Chapter 27

In the Mist above the Sky -uncomplete sonnets- 1. The Visitor Elq Hrqstn She just wanted to become someone. In the beginning, that’s all there was. A single child dozed within a small, sturdy barrier. The barrier basically encapsulated a small world on its own, completely isolated from the outside. From the second she was born to that very moment, the child had never left the confines of the barrier. “It’s because you Visitors have a presence much too massive, you see. You crush the souls of all those who live in the outside world simply by existing.” So said Ebo, one of the child’s family members. “Your mommies and daddies broke their own souls into fragments in order to live on this land. But we don’t want you to follow in their footsteps. You are our last master. We want you to stay with us forever.” So said another one of her family members, Carmy. “Us three Poteau are here to guide you alone now that most of the Visitors have left this ship. My mistress, Elq Hrqstn—I will put my life and soul on the line to protect you from all outside enemies.” And those were the words of yet another one of her family members, Jay. Ever since the child—Elq—gained what we call consciousness, these three were always by her side. They tenderly supported her, taught her many things, granted her many wishes. And yet, there was just one thing: No matter what, they would never allow her to leave the barrier, where she had been born and grew up in, which meant she never got a chance to see the outside world with her own eyes. At one point, Jay disappeared. Then Ebo stopped showing up, too. When Elq asked where they went, Carmy wouldn’t respond. “They’ll come right back once their missions are over.” All she gave was a vague response and looked away. Miss-shun? What’s that? The foggy thought crossed Elq’s mind. But she was much too ignorant to think any more of it and much too young to contemplate her own ignorance. Eventually, Carmy also went off somewhere, leaving the girl alone in the tiny barrier. Without any feelings of bewilderment or unease, the girl simply thought about how bored she was in the cramped space. The hours of boredom felt much longer than she’d thought at first. The child waited idly for her family to return to the barrier, where there was no sun or moon. She wore out all the toys she had inside. Just being a little rough with the stuffed animals was enough to push them closer to breaking. She placed them up against the wall to make sure they wouldn’t get any worse and stayed away from them. Once Jay came home, he would surely fix them for her. And so she would patiently await their return. Or so she thought. A loud boom accompanied the destruction of the barrier wall. What is it? Elq thought. Clearly, it wasn’t Ebo and the others. The Poteau were never this noisy when they went through the barrier. Then, who would it be…? The answer soon appeared before Elq’s eyes. It was a human, probably about sixteen years of age. She held in her hand a peculiar great sword, made up of a collection of metal fragments. The redheaded girl named Lillia Asplay was a Legal Brave, a type of weapon sent by the Church of Exalted Light in order to kill the Visitor Elq Hrqstn, possessor of an overwhelming power. “…Rrgh… Gah…” Lillia was on the brink of death. Her body was covered in wounds. She was bleeding. Countless gashes lined both her clothes and the skin underneath. All the cuts were deep ones that would’ve surely been fatal had they been in slightly different locations. “—Who are you?” Elq sent this simple question to Lillia in the form of a thought. There was no hostility or malice—only pure and simple doubt. But the overwhelming power contained within it produced a brutal shock wave that reverberated throughout the enclosed barrier, pummeling Lillia’s mind itself. Lillia gave a cry of agony, like a waterfowl as a hunter snapped its neck. What Ebo had said wasn’t an exaggeration of any sort. Smaller fish would be tossed around if they swam close to a large whale as it twisted about. Compared with Elq’s overwhelmingly massive soul, Lillia’s puny human soul was like a speck of dust. “Gah… Hurgh—” Lillia’s knees crumpled beneath her. It almost seemed like she would collapse on the spot. She used the great sword, her Carillon Seniorious, as a cane and somehow kept herself up. Slowly, she staggered. She took one step forward, dragging her feet. Elq stared blankly. She was still young and didn’t understand death. Both how the girl before her was on the verge of dying and how she herself was on the verge of snuffing out this stranger’s life were completely beyond the young girl’s comprehension. And because it was beyond her comprehension, it interested her. What was this standing before her? What was it trying to do? That’s what she wondered. “What…do you need?” Lillia was struck by another impact. She stumbled and crashed into the wall. Her gushing blood stained the wall and the floor, and yet, she still stood up. Incredible. She didn’t quite understand it, but it was incredible. Elq’s interest was piqued by this unknown entity she had never seen before. And her excitement granted even greater power to her psychic emanations. “I’m…” There was a bubbling noise. The girl paused for a moment to spit out the blood that came from her throat. “I’m Lillia Asplay. I’m just any old Brave, here to kill you and save the world.” “That sounds like a lot of work.” Lillia shivered as if she was being jolted by lightning. And yet— “It is.” —she smiled, undaunted, a trail of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Elq didn’t understand death or pain or suffering. The only thing she could sense from looking at Lillia was that she stood there with unmatched determination. Ebo and Jay and Carmy were all such sublime beings in their own ways that they’d never taught her about what she was seeing now. “Why are you saving the world?” “…Uhhh…” Lillia leaned against her great sword, thinking for a moment. Ah, whatever. I guess I can be honest now, she wordlessly murmured to herself. “’Cause there’s someone I love.” Her expression, her smile—they were so gentle and bright. I want to be like her, Elq thought. She did it unconsciously. She looked up to someone without ever meaning to. “Even I think I’m a real idiot to go running off killing gods just for that. But, y’know, what can I do? He’s simpleminded, and he’s an idiot. If I don’t rush ahead and do stupid stuff first, then he’ll eventually do something stupid himself. Because Willem really is an idiot.” Lillia’s consciousness was crumbling after being subjected to repeated shocks. Her eyes were distant as though lost in a daydream, yet she didn’t stop pressing forward. With one step, then another step, Lillia closed the distance between the two until finally, she stood right before Elq. “Well then, little goddess. Don’t take this personally, but it’s time to go to sleep.” I hope you at least have good dreams. She readied her great sword. Slowly, carefully, she plunged the sword straight into Elq’s chest. With the tranquility of stroking a baby’s hair, the sword pierced the girl’s small body. Elq blinked, her expression still blank. The Visitors were immortal. They could find death only in the world where they were born, and they had long lost the way back there. So though she could feel the pain, Elq couldn’t feel any danger. Blood began to spill out. Several fissures appeared along the blade of the great sword. They spread slightly, and a faint light seeped from the cracks. The talent unique to Seniorious, the greatest Carillon of the mortal world, manifested itself. Its power to turn anyone into the dead wouldn’t make an exception for an immortal opponent. The weak light slowly faded then disappeared. Lillia, now drained of all strength after her heart had completely shattered, closed her eyes. —Huh? Fwoom—Elq’s vision went dark, like a curtain had dropped. A feeling of weightlessness enveloped her. It felt like she was endlessly falling. She plunged into the surrounding blackness—far, deep, and heavy. Down, down. And so the young Visitor drifted into the long sleep that was death. The Brave succeeded in felling the evil Visitor, and the threat to the world was gone. Justice would always prevail, and the strong would always protect the weak. The battle came to an end, tracing the steps of what was expected of common hero stories. Those who perished before accomplishing anything were unlucky, but their deaths weren’t in vain. It was thanks to their sacrifices that the people could live on. There was meaning behind every death. And so for now, let us rejoice in this joyous happy ending… He slipped through the blind spots of the peoples’ innocent celebrations. One night, Quasi Brave Navrutri Teigozak carried out the corpse of Visitor Elq Hrqstn, which should’ve been kept in sealed storage, through a back passage. Fragments of the Visitors’ souls were one of the materials used in creating humanity. They were the keys to saving humanity from destruction. The True World’s goal was to make this salvation a reality, and so with great trouble, they extracted the soul from the body Navrutri had fetched and tried to shatter it into thousands of pieces. But it didn’t go well. There were plenty of reasons why: Nils D. Foreigner, the founder of the True World, went missing during the recent battle; the medical association realized that their various research results could lead to a breakthrough in countering many diseases, so a great number of researchers were diverted to that project at the last moment; they were attacked by righteous adventurers looking to strike down an evil organization that bore a grudge against the Empire. Various factors interacted with one another in a complicated web of action and reaction, bringing everything to their inevitable conclusion. The True World needed to smash the Visitor’s soul into tiny grains of sand, but they only managed to get halfway there—roughly the size of small pebbles. And of course, that could never become the key to their salvation. The certainty of common hero stories was of no use anymore. There were no prayers to invoke any miracles, no one to reverse the course of events, and no ancient wisdom ready to awaken and solve everything. Accordingly, the appropriate result was the destruction of humankind. Left behind in their place were hordes of terrible, seething Beasts, who ran wild, intent on destroying all the living things that inhabited the land. There were also a small number of fugitives who barely managed to survive that first year, who later sought a land of repose above the sky. And the final remainders were the fragments of Elq Hrqstn’s soul, still in pieces, with nowhere to go. “—I had another dream above the sky.” They were in the illusory space created by Chanteur, the First Beast Who Laments for the Moon. The redheaded girl spoke to the space around her as she held back a long yawn. “About that faerie, you mean? The little one who dragged the semifer into—?” A large sky fish, one size bigger than a grown man could hold, slithered out of thin air. “No. She was killed almost immediately after that. This time, it was about different girls. It was just faeries, and they gathered together in the forest and had a grand time. They couldn’t speak words, so they cried, and laughed, and yelled.” “Sounds like a neighborhood nuisance.” “Yeah, it was a bit freaky.” The sky fish nodded several times in agreement. “…Who were they?” “Hmm? What sort of question is that?” “In my dream. I was somewhere I hadn’t been in a long time. It was inside that little barrier, when Ebo and Jay were still around.” “Ah, in that old ship of ours.” “I dunno how to describe it. There were all these, like, stories collapsing. They were in the holes in the walls, caught in the side of a drawer, hiding in the pictures of a picture book… And when I found them, I learned about the faeries. I learned where they were, what they were doing, what they were thinking, what they were feeling. It was like reading a book—I could read their lives.” “Leave it to a girl your age to have a dream even inside a world that’s already like a dream.” The girl didn’t quite understand what the fish meant. “Everything you saw is a part of you, Elq.” “Me?” “Those damn brutes who shattered your soul didn’t have very advanced power or technology. Their work was shoddy, I mean. The sizes of the fragments they created weren’t uniform, and though they were broken into pieces, they still have a connection. The faeries you see in your dream are simply shadows of your soul, which was once a part of you. I suppose it’s like…hair you cut off a long time ago. The fragments of your soul couldn’t stay dead, because your death was only superficial. And you see their lives in the form of dreams through the connection that you have with the pieces of your soul.” “So those dreams were things that really happened outside this barrier?” “Exactly.” “And those girls who were causing trouble and got punished and made a big fuss and felt weird to me—that all really happened?” “That’s right.” Ohhh. Elq fell silent. In all honesty, she found it amusing. The enclosed world that Elq herself lived in now, created by the First Beast, was entertaining enough for a naive little girl. But the fleeting, misty lives the faeries lived provided an entirely different type of stimulation for her. She enjoyed the lives she saw in her dreams…the fragments of herself that had been separated from her, sources of entertainment she could experience as short, gleeful stories. Time passed. There was no meaning to the passage of time in the world of the First Beast. Every day passed as a regular day that could happen anywhere. The typical sense of the next day becoming today and today becoming the previous day as the sun rose and set did not exist here, as every day was always today. It was only in Elq’s dreams that things changed slowly. Several of the floating islands fell due to the Sixth Beast’s attacks as it drifted through the air. A number of the faeries pushed their venenum into overdrive to prevent that. Some people noticed it happening; they captured the faeries, who had been nothing but nuisances deep in the forest before then, and came up with the idea to use them as weapons to protect the island. “The dreams aren’t as fun anymore.” Her dreams had been entertaining because the faeries had been risking their very bodies and souls in pursuit of fun things. But she rarely saw dreams about faeries like that anymore. All she had now were the shadows of faeries treated like tools, killing themselves to let others live. More time passed. Every time night fell, Elq savored the stories of the faeries’ lives. She watched as the faeries learned how to speak, were given swords, turned into soldiers, and were ultimately treated like disposable weapons. Around the time that happened, faeries with a firm sense of self and a desire to live started appearing. For some reason, Elq couldn’t see these faeries very well at birth, and her dreams only properly connected to their stories after they grew up a certain amount. Carmy surmised, “Maybe as the same fragments are reborn over and over again, they get closer and closer to an independent existence, and their connection with you weakens.” Which meant that before long, Elq wouldn’t be able to see any more stories about the outside world. It was a little sad, since her entertainment was being taken away. And a little more time passed. Elq dreamed of one particular faerie. This one had hair the color of a clear blue sky and eyes the color of the calm seas. She was a font of great power. And how she should use that power was decided for her in detail: She would take the Carillon Seniorious, rush a particularly large Timere, and they would both perish in battle—the end of a brief tale prepared just for her. It was the reason she had been born and what she would die for. Oh, again. Elq felt gloomy simply watching the opening act. This girl would be the same as all the previous faeries. She knew the girl would never know fun, never wish for happiness, and live a short, disposable life. Her resignation wasn’t misguided. If things stayed the same, that was exactly how the girl would live and die. There were three turning points. The faerie indulged a momentary whim to walk around an unfamiliar town, just once. There was a cat that snatched her precious brooch and ran off with it. And then, shamefully yet gracefully crushed beneath her rear when she fell from a high place, there was a single, black-haired young man. “A-are you hurt?! Are you alive?! Are your insides still inta— Oh.” The two ran around the city. They parted. Then reunited. “—Well then, I’ll see you around, Mr. Manager.” The faerie struggled to measure the distance between them. She acknowledged him. Realized how she felt. “…Like, if I asked you to kiss me, would you?” She revolted. She hated how her determination to face impending death had been completely dashed. And yet, she still raised her head, wanting to follow her hopes. Before she realized it, Elq was engrossed in the story of the life of a girl who was separated from her but also a part of her. She got a sense that the girl had found something that should’ve been important but didn’t know or understand what it was. The faerie had someone she loved. She gave up on her own happiness for him. She walked without hesitation into a battle she knew she would not walk away from. …Oh, I remember now. She reminds me of Lillia. That was the human Legal Brave who once killed Elq Hrqstn. Ever since she learned about Lillia, Elq admired her way of life, and while wishing she could one day be like her, Elq died. To be exact, her juvenile wish had technically come true. All the faeries up until that point had never thought about their own happiness and simply threw themselves away one after the other. Having loved ones and personal happiness never played a part because Elq herself didn’t really fully grasp them. Recently, all her dreams were a bit…boring? That was no joke. It was because she wanted that. She wanted to see the outside world. She wanted to wield a huge sword like Lillia, and she wanted to try sacrificing herself once or twice. All she had done was fulfill her childish desires by literally using up countless lives. But now, this blue-haired girl…Chtholly Nota Seniorious, was an existence free of this ridiculous charade. She had someone she held so dear, and she didn’t hide it. She wanted him to be happy, and she even thought she might find happiness for herself. Though she was frightened, though she was suffering, she headed for a battle from which she might never return. In dreams, Elq was still a young child who lived in the ruins of the ship. So she felt nothing, since she didn’t understand what she did. But it wasn’t like that when she left the dream and woke up in the barrier world. What an awful farce it all was. She felt nauseous. The Church of Exalted Light was right—Elq Hrqstn was an evil demon. Of course she had to be destroyed. “There’s no need to worry about it, really,” Carmy said nonchalantly. “Everyone dying and coming to life is actually a part of you, after all. It might have gotten a little over-the-top at times, but in the end, you’re just playing by yourself. You’re not causing anyone trouble—I’d actually say that it’s your power keeping the islands in the sky safe, right? You’re doing something good.” That was wrong. That wasn’t it. Chtholly might be Elq, but Elq wasn’t Chtholly. The faeries might still be a part of Elq, but they were all their own people. They all lived with their own desires. She didn’t get desperate about things like they did. She never would. All she could do was pine after those who could and watch from afar. Time passed. Chtholly was falling apart in the battle. Elq observed silently. This dream should’ve been entertainment, where she could indulge in a short, gleeful story. Experiences she could enjoy that couldn’t be found anywhere in her quiet barrier world—that was all. And yet… “I do have one request. But this is probably my last.” I know. “I can’t really remember the details, but there’s someone I want to help. There are feelings I want to express.” I know that, too. I might not be you, but you are still me. I’ve watched how you’ve fallen for Willie this whole time. “I understand everything. That is why I’m asking you.” You’re right. I thought you’d say that. I want you to hold your ground; I want you to live on; I want your story to play out a little more—the young Elq in the dream world said none of these things. Good luck. That was all she said before pushing her forward. In the dream, Elq never shed a single tear. But with a steady gaze, she watched the tale of the blue-haired girl and the black-haired boy come to an end. 2. What Was Once Nephren Poke, poke, poke. Something small and soft was poking her cheek. Just let me sleep a little more, she thought. She didn’t really understand why, but she was extremely tired. “Hey, come on!” Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke. When she ignored it, the poking became a fast assault. Her cheek was wobbling all over the place. It didn’t hurt, but it was annoying. She rolled over to brush the thing away. There was a quiet splash. “Come on already, it’s about time for you to get up now.” Shush, go away. Didn’t I say that already? She hadn’t, but she really was exhausted. She wanted to sleep for as long as possible. “You’ll get sick if you stay like this.” …Oh right… She first noticed the cold only after it was mentioned. It felt like her whole body was damp with cold water. It wasn’t very comfortable. She wanted a warm pillow and blanket. As those thoughts lazily rolled about her head, Nephren slowly opened her eyes— DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROY “—Ah!!” The overwhelming impulse to destroy that suddenly boiled up from within threatened to take over her entire consciousness. She frantically shut her eyes. The storm of destructive urges slowly abated. What was that? A perfectly reasonable fear slowly took the place of those unreasonable feelings inside Nephren. There was something she didn’t recognize inside her. No—it was more than that. Her whole body had transformed into something she didn’t know. She could feel it. “O-oh my… Things are going quite terribly for you, aren’t they?” She could hear the astonishment in the unidentified person’s voice. It sounded like…the husky tones of a middle-aged woman. At the very least, it wasn’t someone she knew. “…Who are you?” “We’ll cover that later. For now, just open your right eye.” “But—” “It’s all right. Just trust me for now.” Nephren couldn’t trust a person she knew nothing about. Still, she didn’t sense any malice in the stranger’s tone, and it was true that she couldn’t stay here shivering, both eyes shut, forever. Nephren steeled herself for whatever was to come and slowly, cautiously, did as she was told. Her gradually returning vision revealed a scarlet fish floating in midair. “…Um…” “…Are you all right? Can you see?” “My eyes are broken. It looks like there’s a flying fish in front of me.” “That’s normal. Look, can’t you see my gorgeous scales?” The fish twirled around in the air. Her vermilion-silver scales gave off a dewy glimmer. It was just as she said—they really were dreamy and gorgeous. The incomprehensible impulse wasn’t completely gone, but it was much quieter than it had been before. The lingering inclination she felt was still annoying but not a serious problem. Where am I? Nephren looked around. There were cliff-like earthen walls surrounding her. When she glanced down, there was a shallow pool of clear water, and she was halfway submerged in it. When she peered up, there was a large tear in the ceiling far above her. A blue sky peeked through. “Did I fall from all the way up there?” “Looks like it.” She shivered slightly. “It’s cold.” “That’s why I said you’d get sick if you kept sleeping there… Well, I suppose you’d be fine for the rest of your life.” The odd fish said something equally odd. “What do you mean?” “We’ll…cover that later. Why don’t we search for a path up for now? Staying down here would be depressing, and I personally miss the real sun.” She had a point. “This area was originally full of holes—it seems the bedrock was weak to begin with. That’s also why this big one opened up. If we follow these little paths, I believe we’ll eventually find our way up.” Nephren, her left eye still closed shut, kindled her venenum. Phantasmal, gray wings sprouted from her back. Her venenum was working without a hitch—in fact, it flowed smoother than usual. Her body hovered off the ground. “…Hold on—you should have told me right off the bat that you were a flying kid.” “I’m going ahead.” She flapped her wings and headed for the surface. Why am I still alive? Nephren wondered. She had suffered fatal wounds in the battle on the Plantaginesta and fell to the earth. And in the final seconds before death, her consciousness alone had been entrapped in a strange barrier world, along with Willem’s. Then they destroyed that little world and leaped back outside. While that was happening, she jumped into this odd, black thing that was about to swallow Willem whole, and she even somehow pulled about half of it into herself. …Right. No matter how she thought about it, the whole experience would have killed a regular faerie three, four times over. And Nephren Ruq Insania was very much a regular faerie, one without any special powers like, say, Chtholly. She looked back down to check herself over. Though her uniform was in tatters and was barely even recognizable as clothing anymore, she didn’t see anything on herself she could call a wound. It was an uncanny level of restoration that the word heal couldn’t properly explain. Somehow, in her mind, the crazy idea that someone had prepared a new body for her and moved her consciousness over made more sense. The wind was calm. If she kept her eye on the wide blue sky above her, she would find that it was no different from the one she would look up to on Regule Aire. But when she turned around, a whole surface of gray spread endlessly for as far as she could see. “…There’s nothing here, hmm,” the fish murmured with concern after gently fluttering up beside Nephren. Nephren ignored her and tried to spot the person she was looking for. But she couldn’t. “Willem’s not here.” The two of them should have been together this entire time. From the moment they entered the illusory world to the time they destroyed it, Nephren should’ve been in Willem’s arms. Even if there was some kind of impact that sent only her flying off, they shouldn’t have gotten this separated. “I don’t see my little partner anywhere, either. She is in no state to be moving around, but she might be wandering about.” Nephren turned and took another look at this odd fish. She was huge… Not quite big enough to swallow Nephren whole, but the fish could easily strangle and kill her with that massive body. Fish generally lived in the water. Nephren had once read about things called “sky fish” that swam through the air instead, but that was mostly about tiny fish that swam in groups out of sight. She had never read about any kind of sky fish this big. Not to mention one that could speak. “—And who are you?” “Hmm, I suppose it is about time I introduce myself. My name is Carmine Lake. As you can see, I am the Poteau who controls the wind and the rain.” “…Hmm?” Poteau. She’d read about them in a book once. They were subordinate deities who once served the Visitors and were, in essence, the creator gods of this world as they were the ones who shaped this world. In short, they were incredible beings. “Huh.” This fish could call herself whatever she wanted. And she could say “it should be obvious” as much as she wanted. At the end of the day, the only thing Nephren saw in front of her was a strange-looking, talking sky fish. Although she could tell that the fish wasn’t normal, she didn’t feel like there was anything particularly divine, either. “Really, now.” “Really, really.” The fish swirled around merrily in the face of Nephren’s unconvinced reply. “Oh, but don’t get the wrong idea here. I haven’t always looked like this, you know. See, I once had a body that was much more beautiful and graceful and splendid!” Okay. “I lost that body about five hundred years ago. Ever since, I could only preserve my self by freeloading off someone else’s soul, which is how I became such a pitiful, illusory being.” “Illusory being”—that wasn’t exactly a combination of words she’d heard before, but Nephren got the nuance. “…Meaning this isn’t your real body?” “Exactly. You’re the only one who can see and hear me. Well? Does it feel like you’re the chosen one yet?” “…No.” There wasn’t anyone else around them anyway—what point did this unwanted privilege have? “And why has a god attached herself to me?” “Yes! That’s the main issue here!” the fish abruptly shouted and flailed her fins about. She was so loud. “I originally had a girl who acted as my proper host. We were sealed in that barrier world together for such a long time.” The barrier world. An eternal sandbox constructed by Chanteur—Almaria—that beckoned to all who lived in what was once the city of Gomag. “But you were the ones who destroyed the barrier world, right? The shock of that cut me off from my host’s soul. I lost track of her.” “Huh…?” “I flew into a panic. I thought, Oh no, I’m going to disappear! But I found you nearby. I knew this was the will of the gods, so I let myself in right away, you see. Well, I suppose the real gods aren’t that considerate, though.” Nephren wished the fish would wait for a second. That world was a prison. And a special type, one that trapped a whole mass of emnetwiht. It wouldn’t be strange if this self-proclaimed Poteau had been trapped inside as well. But… “How long were you in there?” “Oh, such a long time.” “Without your physical body, you shouldn’t have been able to come back to life after being freed from the barrier.” “You’re right. That’s why I was in such a pinch, you see.” “That’s not what I mean. You had a host, didn’t you? Is she okay?” “My, my! Are you worried about a girl you’ve never seen or met? How kind of you.” That wasn’t what Nephren wanted to know, though. “Or have you noticed that the girl isn’t a complete stranger to you?” That wasn’t it, ei— Wait, what? In the slight momentary shock, Nephren opened her left eye slightly. DESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTROYDESTR— “Agh… Urgh…” She closed it right back up. In that briefest of moments when both eyes were open, Nephren had been struck by a pain as bad as a massive hammer smashing into her head. It lingered even after shutting her eye. She crouched down on the sand, weathering the agony. “I hope you’ve noticed, at least? One wrong move, and that will take you over.” “…What…do you mean…?” “Most likely, the spirit of Chanteur has ended up inside you. Possibly through the exact same way that I let myself in… The Beasts have no sense of self, so they’re simply a mass of pure desire and impulse, though.” Pure desire. Pure impulse. That made sense. It certainly felt that way. “Will I turn into a Beast…? Like the emnetwiht did?” “Ummm… I don’t think so, no. Though you don’t strictly have a physical body, your body was always yours to begin with.” “To begin with?” “By the looks of it, you’ve become oh so close to being an emnetwiht after multiple reincarnations, but you haven’t actually turned into one. Though your spirit may be confused, I don’t think you’d be able to get your body back.” …Nephren didn’t really understand. After walking for a little while, they came across strange remains. There were traces of a camp, the charred remains of firewood within a circle of stones. Beside them were several wooden crates and tin canisters half-buried in sand. “What inconsiderate tourists. The surface isn’t a garbage dump,” Carmine Lake murmured idly to herself. Nephren was starting to learn that there was no need to comment on every single thing. These were probably left over from salvagers who came down to the surface to excavate. They probably got their hands on a surprising amount of treasure and, as a result, discarded a portion of the cargo already on their airship. Or something like that. She dug up one of the tin canisters closest to her. It was big enough for her to cradle in one arm. The inside was empty. The scrawled writing on its face was almost completely faded, having been rubbed off by the sand, but she could just barely make out L7 STANDARD PROVISIONS—M. “Provisions…” For a moment, she thought these were traces left behind by the Plantaginesta. But she immediately corrected herself. That couldn’t be right. Once the ship had left, Chanteur, the First Beast, had appeared here. These tin canisters wouldn’t have been able to maintain their shape in the presence of a Beast powerful enough to render everything nearby to dust. The people who camped here must have come after Willem impaled Chanteur and the barrier world vanished. “Was I really sleeping for that long underground?” “About ten days, I’d say.” That ridiculous answer came so readily. “…I’m not hungry, though.” “That’s because you’ve taken an eternal being inside you. Your body hasn’t just been taken over, it’s been meddled with.” Another ridiculous answer that came just as readily. “Let’s see… You’ve become a bit of a Beast now. You’ll never age, never die. You’re everlasting, imperishable. Is it easier to understand if you think about it that way?” It was. It was easier, but she didn’t want to understand. “You mean eternal life?” “In a way, yes. You’re not indestructible, though. There are several ways you can be killed.” “I see.” Was this some kind of satire? Nephren had been prepared for death, accepted it. Even though there were several times she’d only narrowly avoided it, she was just realizing how much her current situation was the complete opposite of what she’d prepared for. “…I don’t have anywhere to go back to.” Though it was only a bit, a Beast was still a Beast. They probably would never let her stay in Regule Aire. The days she spent in the faerie warehouse—those normal days all seemed so far away in her memory now. “Are you all right?” “Mm.” Nephren murmured in response, neither affirming nor denying—since she herself didn’t really know which it was—and then pulled a large piece of red fabric from one of the crates buried in the sand. She wrapped it around her body in place of the tattered guard uniform. She walked for days across the sand. Nephren’s body, which was now closer to that of a Beast, didn’t become tired or feel any fatigue. She could keep on walking for as long as she wanted. But she didn’t feel like it. Every few hours, she would stop and rest on a nice-looking rock formation. When night fell, she would lay down and close her eyes. Luckily, her body never forgot the habit of sleeping. Even though she wasn’t tired, she could still slumber. She could even still dream. Surely, one day, these memories of hers would all vanish into the gray sand. But for now, she could still warm her heart with thoughts of her pleasant past. On one occasion, she came across a cluster of Beasts. At the top of a gentle, sandy slope, about ten Auroras stood with their ropelike bodies straight and taut, the needles that poked out from them resting against their bodies, bathing in the sunlight. Nephren drew near, but they didn’t respond. She poked at them, and all they did was writhe a little in irritation, but they ultimately didn’t attack her. Do they think I’m the same as them? The Beasts, who were as close to immortal as possible, did not need to eat. That’s why they didn’t prey on one another. They thought of nothing but brutally destroying all non-Beast life, but conversely, in places populated by only Beasts, they were docile to the point of disappointment. Or maybe this was how the Beasts were originally. Perhaps it was specifically because they so badly yearned for this peace and quiet that they tried to do everything they could to expel all the foreign objects that might ruin it… It was possible that was all they were really trying to do, and they would spend all their time quietly like this if there weren’t any outsiders nearby. She grasped a relatively small Aurora and gently hugged it. It twisted about in protest, but it never stuck out its needles to try and stab her. “Oh dear,” Carmine Lake grumbled. The two of them didn’t mesh that well, but on the empty sands of the surface, they were valuable conversation partners. Carmine Lake tentatively turned to face Nephren and invited her to speak. “Elq’s presence is so far away. And judging by the angle, she’s above us.” “…Is that the girl who was your host?” “Yes, that’s right.” “Above us—meaning Regule Aire?” “Perhaps…” The sky fish squirmed as she swirled around her. “Nephren, can you fly that far?” “…Maybe if I tried.” It was a reckless idea by normal standards. Regule Aire was much too far, much too high up for a living faerie’s wings to reach. But Nephren wasn’t normal anymore. Now that her body never tired or fatigued, she could fly for days without any sleep or rest. But she hesitated. What would it mean for her to approach Regule Aire now that she’d become more like a Beast, of all things? Nephren knew well what the answer was, of course. After all, she was one of many leprechauns, and the sole reason for their existence was to protect Regule Aire from the menace of the Beasts. She tried to imagine it—she saw Ithea and Rhantolk, their ethereal wings spread, the tips of their dug weapons pointed at Nephren the Beast. “…I don’t want to.” “What if I ask nicely?” “No. If you want to go, go by yourself.” “I’d have done it long ago if I could! You know I’m dependent on you!” Carmine Lake swirled gracefully around her. “Ohhh, and just when I was relieved that we finally got out of that silly barrier world, things have only gotten sillier! I don’t know where Ebon Candle and Jade Nail have gone off to mess around, but they better come get me this instant!” —Where could Willem be? Nephren ignored the flailing, self-proclaimed Poteau and began ruminating. She didn’t know about this Elq person or whoever it was, but Willem was definitely somewhere here on the surface. Of course, she wasn’t so optimistic as to think that he was safe and whole. Unlike herself, he was an out-and-out emnetwiht. There was no reason for his sense of self to persist after that black thing, Chanteur’s spirit or whatnot, poured into him. It wasn’t hard to imagine that both his body and mind had been taken over by the Beast and he had transformed into something completely different. And yet, still— I told Almaria I would take care of him. Nephren wanted to go to him. If he’d fully transformed into a Beast, then she wanted to snuggle up to that Beast. That was all Nephren wished for her future on this gray earth. 3. An Undesired Return There was a bad guy. The strong guy beat the bad guy. Bad was gone from the world, and everyone was happy. It was perfectly fine for stories to start that way. It was perfectly fine for stories to end that way. But unfortunately, their story wasn’t like that. They were never given a great evil that was the source of all the world’s wrongs, nor were they given the power to handily bring down that evil. So their story started from a place that was a little unorthodox. And their story would follow their own footsteps as they wandered through the darkness, ending right where they wound up. Regule Aire, in the sky above Island No. 11. A single airship flew, hiding among the thunderclouds. On the outside, it looked like a civilian surface-observation vessel. The whole outside of the ship’s body seemed somewhat shabby. The dustproof plates, which had received multiple runs of Wessex Bordering, had an elegant mottled pattern painted on them; the specs on the left and right propellers didn’t match; several windows along the side of the ship had cracked glass, so the shutters inside were sealed tight. Scrawled in paint on the side was the profile of a black cat’s face and the words BATO ADVENTURING AGENCY. But if there was anyone knowledgeable enough nearby, they would have been able to tell that the entire ship’s appearance was a little off. The dustproof plates were practically unscathed, almost brand-new even, and wholly at odds with how dirty the rest of the thing was; it was flying relatively steadily despite how many makeshift parts were attached to it; the shutters visible behind the windows along the side of the ship were far too sturdy-looking given the make of the ship; and most importantly, the steady thundering sound was clearly coming from a large enchanted furnace—definitely not something that suited a small-size civilian airship. To put it simply, this wasn’t the common airship that its appearance would have anyone believe. The official name of this ship was Tomorrow Grasper No. 7. It was a respectable military airship, belonging to the Elpis Air Defense Force, which was based out of Island No. 13. The cockpit. With his large, round eyes, the frogger soldier checked the meters on the wall. All the gauges, from the very right to the very left of the wall, were continuously keeping dull, uninteresting, safe numbers. They were flying smoothly. On their current course, this airship would arrive before dawn at Island No. 11’s first docking district. Then they could hand over the loot they’d just seized on the surface to the Air Defense Force’s research technicians. “—Um, Officer?” The frogger whirled his head around. “I really think we should just throw that cargo away. It might be against our orders, but I believe it’s much too dangerous.” “What’s that? You got the heebie-jeebies?” The corner of the lycanthrope officer’s mouth lifted in a jeer, revealing a fang. “No, that’s not it. I’m just a little…uncomfortable. Especially those things in freight rooms two and three. I’ve never heard of a Beast that looks like that.” The frogger shivered. “We don’t know what unthinkable disaster it might bring.” “There’s nothing to be afraid of. We just need to trust in the vice marshal and his plan.” The vice marshal. The frogger couldn’t keep his eyes from swimming the moment that title came up. “It’s not that I’m doubting him or anything. I…” “The only people insisting those things are dangerous are The Winged Guards. They’re scoundrels who’re getting money for fighting with these dangers. You’d be a fool to take anything they say at face value.” “…What do you mean?” “The ones publicly claiming that the enemy is more dangerous than they really are can get cash from sponsors. If they keep the fights all to themselves, then outsiders will never find out about their lies. What I’m saying is, they’re not as bad as those guys say—The Winged Guard are making them out to be strong foes all for business.” “That can’t be!” The frogger’s voice shuddered. “One of the islands actually fell, remember?! The house I grew up in was on Island No. 15!” “Of course. They’ll lose on interest and principal if it all their battles look like easy wins. If they hold back and make a few sacrifices every once in a while, then the danger seems that much more convincing. It’s show business.” “That’s… No, but—” “As for all those salvagers who went to the surface and got themselves killed, I’d say of course that’s what’d happen to inexperienced civilians. Trained soldiers who know real battle, like you and me, have no reason to fear those things any more than we need to.” “Uh—” “And even if they were truly dangerous, the ones onboard have been rendered completely powerless by our barrier tech. At this point, that whole spiel about these things being impenetrable, untouchable calamities has already been proven to be an outrageous lie.” The frogger fell silent. The lycanthrope hummed lightly. “I know very well how anxious you are about Regule Aire’s future. We’re attempting to bring something forbidden onto Island No. 11, where a great number of people live—I can also tell how insecure it makes you feel. But think about it more simply.” “How…so?” “We should fight and win our own futures by our own hands…is what the marshal said,” the lycanthrope drawled. “Do you think he’s wrong?” “Er… Uh, n-no.” “Indeed—you’re correct. That is the absolute truth, and it is righteous. Which means The Winged Guard, who are monopolizing the battles with the Beasts for themselves, cannot possibly have any truth or righteousness.” “That’s—” “We sometimes have to pay sacrifices in order to do what is right. That is a truth we cannot look away from. However, that’s the very reason why we must courageously walk down this path. That is the responsibility and pride of those who are members of the Elpis Air Defense Force.” “I…” Is that really it? the frogger wondered, tilting his head. That didn’t quite feel right to him. But he wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong, either. If there was nothing wrong about it, then that had to mean it was right, which would make his hesitation nothing but embarrassing cowardice. “I—I understand. Please forget my report on the matter.” “I shall. I’m happy to see that the fire of courage has been lit inside you.” The lycanthrope nodded vigorously, satisfied. Cargo holds one through four on the ship. Each of them was like its own stronghold. There was a thin layer of silver, fixed with enchanted properties, painted on the layers of steel plates that made up the walls. Embedded along the floor was an array of wood, minerals, and fragments of bone, laid in concentric circles. Each of these circles imitated the various elements that made up the world—the sun, the earth, life itself… Every single one portrayed the world in a miniaturized fashion. These formed a simple but strong multiplex barrier. Barrier spells were a method to maintain walls that cut off a space from the world itself. Once completed, the inside of a barrier became a different world from the outside. When that happened, the rules inside the barrier became slightly different. And the moment those differences manifested, the worlds would no longer be able to interact with each other. Walls of the world made in this manner would never break, no matter how strong a person. Much like how a wolf painted onto a canvas could never eat its painter, anything that lay within these barriers could never hurt anything on the outside. There was something crouching down in the center of the multiplex barrier. And that thing took the form of a featureless, black-haired young man. “…Rgh, agh…” It let slip a low, cry-like noise. Was it aware it had been captured? And did it know it could not easily escape from this place? It was stooped low, biting back its agony in this small, closed-off world. —And suddenly, there was a heavy impact. The ship shuddered violently. “What was that? Did a dragon stone drift into our way?” The lycanthrope furrowed his brow. “No, that was just a little drifter stone. Sheesh, it was hidden in the thunderclouds, so I didn’t notice it.” Despite the content of his words, there was no tension in the frogger’s voice. His large eyes swirled around, checking the meters. “Well, it’s not a huge problem. This is a military ship, after all—our vessel isn’t so fragile that a little banging like that would sink us. The paint might’ve peeled a bit, but the maintenance crew will do something about that later.” “I see—that’s a little disappointing. A regular round of drinks isn’t enough to put those guys in a good mood. And accounting will scowl if you bring them all those receipts.” “I trust you can do something about that… Hmm?” The frogger’s finger lightly rubbed one of the gauges. There was a slight blur in the inclination meter display, which regularly measured every part of the ship’s interior. “What is it?” the lycanthrope asked. “Oh no… This probably means there’s some warping in the ship’s frame. Something that would bankrupt a civilian if they wanted to fix it. We’re the military, so we don’t have to worry about that.” “Hold on—that is a problem. Now we have to treat the maintenance crew to even more alcohol.” “Oh well, I trust you can do something ab—” The frogger lifted his head. “—Did you hear something?” “Hmm? What are you talking about?” “It was like a little boom or something.” His gaze swiveled toward a single door. On the other side was a hallway, and at the end of that hallway was the second cargo hold. “Are you sure you’re not imagining things?” “Hmm, you might be right.” As it so happened, the frogger’s judgment was correct. The true culprit behind the shock that rocked the ship was nothing more than the impact of a stray drifter stone. They hadn’t been attacked by an enemy ship hiding within the thunderclouds or infiltrated by a saboteur who was beginning their activities, nor had their “cargo” in the hold started to act out. His assessment of the damage wasn’t wrong, either. The impact had warped one of the dragon bones slightly, deforming the makeup of the entire ship’s body. That was the entirety of the damage that had been caused. And of course, that wasn’t enough to cause problems with the ship’s flight. If this were a civilian ship, then the owners would probably dread the cost of repair and simply leave the ship in storage. That’s all the damage amounted to. His conclusions up to that point were all correct. However, the crew didn’t understand much about the barrier spell set up in their own hold. Barrier spells this small were unstable given the current level of technology available to the Elpis Defense Force. The framework they were based on was experimental, and there was nothing to guarantee it would work out in practice. The absurd idea of creating a new world inside a world that already existed could stay intact only because of the careful handling of such fine details, so delicate that the slightest mistake was unforgivable. They’d read all the material. They had all the knowledge. But they didn’t understand any of it. Then again, it wasn’t like the outcome would’ve changed even if they did. Suddenly, the back third of the military-grade airship Tomorrow Grasper No. 7 literally disintegrated. In a fraction of a second, what was once part of the ship’s hull crumbled into gray sand that was blown away by torrential rains and melted down. The weight balance was ruined, and the ship nosedived. With a loud crackling sound, even the safest of places began to be pulled apart by their own weight. One group of propellers was ripped off its base under the destructive torque. Now, with nowhere for its pressure to go, the enchanted furnace explosively erupted into flames. The screams and shouting lasted for only a second. Those, too, were washed away by the rain. And so, Tomorrow Grasper No. 7 fell. “—Look, a shooting star!” It was a stormy night atop Collina di Luce, the sprawling city on the south side of Island No. 11. Despite the foul weather, several people had gathered and were watching the sky, layered in thick clouds. That was when they saw it. It was a great, burning ball of fire, one that didn’t die down despite the wind and the rain. “A wish, a wish! Ummm…” A real shooting star would’ve never been visible among such dark clouds. But no one watching realized that. The only thing that felt off to them was that it seemed a little brighter than usual, shining a little longer than usual. One of them, a young ailuranthrope looking up from his bed, unable to sleep, hurriedly spoke his wish: “May there always be peace on Regule Aire.” There was a thundering noise and a blast of air. Trees were mowed down, dirt and rocks unearthed. A great cloud of black smoke rose before getting swallowed up by the dusky, rainy sky. The burning flames showed no signs of weakening, even under the downpour of rain. “Urgh…gh, agh…” A slight distance away from the burning mass that was once an airship, a single man—a thing that looked like a man—lay on the ground. It was in pain. The pain wasn’t just from the impact of falling from a great height—the intense impulse to destroy bubbling up inside it became a fiery fervor and tormented its body. “…The…rim…” It reached out with a shivering arm and dragged itself forward. He understood that he couldn’t stay here. No matter how much his reasoning tried to resist, he couldn’t hold out against the screams of his instincts forever. It wanted to turn everything in this sky, this land of unnatural intruders, back into dust. Even now, he could feel that heartrending cry of desire slowly gnawing away at his soul. That was why he had to throw this body off the outer rim of this island as quickly as he could. He didn’t know how tough this new body of his was. He might die, of course, falling all the way from the floating islands down to the surface. But he didn’t care. The most important thing was that he could never come back to the world in the sky ever again. He didn’t know which way the rim was. The freezing torrent of rain and dark of night enveloped his whole body. None of his senses were working. He simply crawled forward, no thought in mind. “…Hey.” As his body weaved underneath the raindrops hitting his back, he heard a man’s voice. He turned to look in that direction, and he saw standing there a large man holding a brightly burning torch—when had he shown up? There was a smaller person on his back. DESTROY. Without a second thought, the impulse rose from its chest. It unconsciously reached out with its right hand and grabbed an olive tree growing nearby. There was a quiet foom. And in the next moment, its fist closed without resistance. When it opened its fist, a handful of muddied sand washed away in the rain. A moment later, the olive tree, with half its trunk washed away, fell over with a mournful creak. “Stay…away…” He had been assailed by the desire to destroy anything that came into his field of vision. So he did the least he could do to fight back and covered both his eyes with his left hand. “Run…! I’m…dangerous…!” he screamed in the man’s direction. “Holy shit. Had no idea it’d actually be you, Willem.” The man’s voice wasn’t growing more distant—it was getting closer. He could clearly hear the sound of thick hide boots tromping through the mud. “I mean, it ain’t like I doubted it was him. Just finding it a little hard to believe. I’m feeling way more like No freakin’ way! instead of happy to be reunited with him after five hundred years, y’know?” the man griped to the person on his back, his tone light and casual. What are you doing? Get the hell out of here! I won’t make it at this rate. “Stay…back…!” “…Wait, don’t tell me you’re still in there, Willem?” He was. But that wouldn’t last for long. He didn’t have any strength left to answer. He hadn’t even recognized the strangeness of the question itself. “Guess you’re a hairbreadth away. Unusually tenacious as always.” With a bitter laugh, the speaker came right up to him. “Yeah, I know.” That must’ve been directed to the person on his back. “This ain’t some random nobody; even I can’t just ignore ’im. But I dunno if that’ll be good for him. You know it might cause him more pain than necessary, right?” There was a short silence, and his attention turned behind him, as though waiting for a response. “—Yeah, true. You’re absolutely right. I’ll let you have your way this time, Princess.” The speaker then turned again to face him with a calm expression. “Be thankful. My powers dried up a long time ago, but there’s no relationship that can compare with the one between master and pupil. I’ll squeeze out whatever I can for you, just one more time.” The speaker placed the palm of his hand gently on the young man’s forehead. “This’ll be my first and last time going up against a Beast. This is special. I’ll put you, and only you, to sleep with my hand.” …He didn’t understand what this man was saying. But finally, finally, he realized something. He knew the owner of this voice. Somewhere a long, long time ago, he’d often spoken to this voice. At one point in his life, he must’ve looked up to the speaker with admiration. And maybe, in a way, he still did even now. He must’ve constantly told himself that he would never grow up to be an adult like him. “Gaze up at the moon in the infinite darkness of nighttime…” There was a strange inflection to the man’s words, as though he was reciting an old poem. An odd sensation began to seep from the hand touching his forehead in response to the inflection. The young man had a gut feeling that something odd was happening. He understood that it might be something dangerous. And yet, his body didn’t move. “The sludge of the night will envelop your eyes…” His quiet whisper was like a command. And a moment later, like the thud of a heavy curtain, the young man fell unconscious. 4. The End of the Fight Time was slowly flowing. The grass on the side of the roads was turning green, flowers on the trees frantically bloomed as if in competition, and the blowing wind felt just a touch gentler and warmer. Meanwhile, there were two new faces in the faerie warehouse. The Winged Guard’s search and rescue organization picked one up who was born in the woods of Island No. 26, another by the lake on Island No. 40, and brought them both to the faerie warehouse. Almita and the others, who had been the youngest ones up until that point, were overly excited to have younger ones to look after. “You need to be more responsible now that you’re big sisters,” Tiat reminded them. And on a truly felicitous twist of fate—they hadn’t lost any old faces. There had been no Timere attacks at all recently. There was no one to send to the battlefield and no lives to turn to dust. Chtholly, Nephren, Willem. In a terrible irony, ever since they’d lost those irreplaceable three, the faerie warehouse had been as peaceful as they always hoped it would be. “There’sss ssstill no word of a battle forecassst,” said a giant, unfriendly lizard from the other side of the communication crystal. “Sshould there be any Timere attack in the future, it would cssertainly passss through the sssilver eye of the forecassst. It iss but a brief resssspite, but it sseemss there iss time for the warriorss to ressst their bladessss.” “…I see.” Nygglatho sighed in relief. She was always nervous during her regular calls with The Winged Guard—with First Officer Limeskin. There was nothing about him in particular that made her feel that way—it was always because of the topic. Discussing sending the precious children of the faerie warehouse off to battle was something she could never do with a calm presence of mind. But that was why she was so glad to hear that nothing would be happening for a while. It was only times like these that she was honestly ever grateful for the primas—the fish-eyed race’s tactical precognition, which they prided as being 100 percent precise. Since there was no sign of an impending battle, the possibility of a sudden fight was unthinkable. It was confirmation that this time of calm would continue for a while. “What a relief.” Her feelings were genuine. “This peace has lasted quite a while, hasn’t it? It wasn’t that long ago that we were sending them off on missions two, three times a month… There’s been nothing for a few months now.” “Mm.” Was that response a murmur of assent or something different? The lizardfolk officer made a noise she didn’t quite understand and fell silent. Nygglatho paid no mind to him and continued, letting the happiness pour out of her. “Eudea and the others are doing so well. They’re the ones who just arrived this past month, remember? They seem to be scared to sleep on their own at night, so I’ve been sleeping together with them every day. Their little sleeping faces are so cute, I just want to gobble them up!” “Ah, I sssee…” The murmured voice in response was somehow preoccupied. And Nygglatho, too, soon picked up on the fact that something was off. “What’s wrong?” “Well… Thiss isss not eassy to talk about.” He was hesitating. That was unusual. “Oh, I know what you’re talking about. They dispatched a survey team in a big rush because Chanteur vanished, right? Did they find anything?” “That isss not it. All the reportsss of the sssurvey team have been cut off far above me.” “What?” Limeskin was a first officer. While Nygglatho wasn’t entirely sure of the hierarchy of The Winged Guard, she understood that his was a relatively high rank. It wasn’t normal that information was kept from him. That meant they’d found something on the surface. And the information surrounding their findings would have such an impact that the first officer couldn’t know. “Thiss iss about the battle forecassst.” “Yes.” “I do not mean today or tomorrow, you sssee. There iss not a sssingle foressight of Timere vissiting at all.” She didn’t know what that meant. Nygglatho tilted her head slightly. “Not for at leasst a few yearsss. Perhapsss even forever. That iss how long thiss peacsse is predicted to lassst.” “A few years…or even forever…?” Not exactly understanding at first, she ruminated over those words for a while in her mind, then— “Really?!” Still bursting with joy, she drew closer, double-checking. Forever was too much to ask for, of course, but as long as she didn’t have to force the girls to fight for several years, that was good enough news for her. She didn’t want to feel so pained and sad as she had been before, nor did she want to cause anyone else to feel that way. “Ahhh! Woooow! Ohhh woooow!” She couldn’t stop making weird noises. She brought her lightly balled fists together before her chest, desperately suppressing her urge to prance around the room. “…After recsseiving thisss report, the generalss above usss officssersss had sssplit opinionsss.” Limeskin spoke in a monotone. She sensed not even a fragment of happiness from either his words or expression. “At the moment, we mussst ssay that we are in the leassst favorable possition imaginable.” “Wait, what? What do you mean?” “There are a few who ssay that we musst disssband the faerie warehousse.” Nygglatho’s jaw dropped to the floor. “What…does that…?” “Warriorsss require a battlefield in order to remain warriorsss. Warriorsss without a placsse or enemy to fight can no longer gain the veneration or offeringsss of the people.” He said all this as if it was so simple… At least, that’s how he sounded to Nygglatho. “No banner can fly oncsse the wind sssstopssss.” “I can’t…believe…” The lizardfolk officer was hard to understand, as usual. But he and Nygglatho had known each other for a while by that point, and she had a grasp on what he meant. She hated that she understood. Neither The Winged Guard nor the Orlandry Merchants Alliance was a monolithic entity. There were plenty of members who did not take kindly to the ongoing conflict, which centered around the combination of leprechauns and dug weapons as the deciding weapons. It wasn’t entirely difficult to imagine why. They were using power that the emnetwiht left behind. The ones literally carrying Regule Aire’s fate on their shoulders were featureless. They had to rely on powers of inscrutable makeup and logic. Their fates were in the hands of living ghosts. Pure hatred for monsters that took the form of children. The exorbitant costs to collect dug weapons… There were plenty of reasons why others hated them. People despised the existence of the leprechauns for their various reasons based on their differing values. And yet, the reason the girls still ended up wielding the greatest weapons that could be found was simply because it was absolutely necessary. Regule Aire could continue to exist only if buoyed by their fighting and sacrifice. Without this premise, everything changed. If Timere was no longer going to attack, then the critics wouldn’t stay silent. Everyone would justify their pent-up animosity and take them out on the girls. That’s what Limeskin was inferring. The “weapons” that were the leprechauns had plenty of problems, the first of which was their instability. Hence why there were plenty of those within the Guard suggesting that this was a good opportunity to let them go, now that the threat of Six was gone. In that case— “But then…what would happen to the girls? They wouldn’t just be set free all of a sudden, would they…?” Even she knew—that wouldn’t happen. The girls were basically clothed, walking time bombs, after all. Actually, Nygglatho was the only one putting clothes on them, so without the faerie warehouse, they’d just be naked walking time bombs… But that aside, there was no way the authorities would let them roam freely and allow them to do as they pleased without any management. “—Ssseveral cssity militiasss sspeak of ssstrengthening their own fangsss againssst the Beassstsss.” The reality Limeskin informed her of was unforgiving. “They have long ssstated that they are uneassy leaving the battle with the Beassstsss sssolely in the handsss of The Winged Guard and the leprechaunsss. In their eyesss, thisss isss an opportunity for them to have their own way.” “Then, does that mean they’re asking that other forces be able to keep their own leprechauns? Not like now, where The Winged Guard gathers everyone they discover?” “Yesss. Thosse who agree with that sssentiment are not in the minority, even within The Winged Guard.” Ah, I get it now. By losing their label as the definitive counter against Timere, the leprechauns’ position changed to that of powerful but unstable explosives. They were difficult to use, so of course, there would be people who loathed the thought of needing to maintain them. And it wasn’t entirely odd that there were those who did want to have them. Such great power would give peace of mind to anyone who possessed it and bring their neighbors unease. Regule Aire wasn’t a monolith. The Elpis Collective in the Winged Empire, the Boreal Woodland in Hydrangea Tea County… There were plenty of islands and cities that wanted to display their military might to the surrounding islands and increase their political influence. However, that meant— “You can’t be serious. I’m not about to hand over my precious children to anyone else.” Not that they would all necessarily end up anywhere bad, of course. If she pulled back the curtain, a nice life might be waiting for them inside. And yet, there was no way there could be anyone who’d shower them with more love than Nygglatho. All the time she’d spent here, all the tears she’d shed could attest to that. She didn’t want the girls to be taken away from her. “Nothing hasss been decssided yet. Do not be ssso hasssty.” “But it’s a perfectly reasonable outcome to expect, isn’t it?” “Ssslow down. I have recsseived plenty of ssspiteful remarksss myssself—” He spoke firmly, but Limeskin continued with something that didn’t even need to be said: “—but do be ready for it.” She suddenly recalled a moment when she was a student. If memory served her right, it had been when she was in a history lecture. Her armored armando history professor spoke in a muffled voice that was difficult to hear. He basically said conflict was a constant of nature, the fate of all living things. Peace was unnatural, and that was why it was noble. The unnatural essence of peace meant that it was unattainable, even if it was just there. It was something someone could get for the first time only when they repressed their instincts, constantly pursued reason, and made efforts and sacrifices for it. And peace seemed to shine so beautifully because it was something gained for the first time. It had made sense to her back then. Peace was noble because it didn’t exist in the natural world—it was something they’d painstakingly built up with their own sweat and tears. Now that he mentioned it, one could say that about anything and everything. It wasn’t logical that peace was the only exception. She knew that well. But then, at the end of the lecture that day, the professor tacked on an addendum, as though he’d just remembered: “Things that are unnatural are ultimately unsustainable. If you try to preserve something unsustainable, you will, of course, lose more than you need to. “You might think it’s a little strange. But peace is much costlier than wartime, especially in places where it’s hard to notice at first. And the greatest reason for that is because from time immemorial, even though everyone strives so hard for peace, no one has ever been able to maintain it.” “…Why does it have to be like this…?” Right after the communications cut out, Nygglatho laid her head down on the desk. She was the only one in the room. And because she was alone, she began to bawl, her face still buried in her sleeve. “If they don’t have to fight anymore, then that should be good enough. If they can live in peace, then that should be good enough. Why can’t it just stay simple like that…?” If this was a story of fiction, of poetic justice, then once the evil enemy was defeated, once the world got better again, that would be the end. The world would wrap up with a And they lived happily ever after, and the future beyond that wouldn’t be illustrated. Reality was a little more complicated than the worlds of fiction. Time continued to flow, even after the story was over. The happiness they seized would fade and eventually get smashed to pieces. There was nothing that came to an end as beautifully as it began. “…Willem, you idiot…” Her sobbing turned into a gripe about someone who wasn’t there. “You said it would be too hard for someone to feel this way alone, didn’t you…? You promised that we’d share this pain, didn’t you…?” She knew it was an unsightly grudge to hold. But did she care? Nygglatho was the only person in this room. There was no one here to feel bad that her complaints were directed at someone who wasn’t around to hear them in the first place. 5. Facing the Past Nygglatho had been acting strange as of late. She’d often stare blankly out the window, look like she was on the verge of tears, writhe about in worry, then wander off to the other side of the mountain to hunt bears. No—that simple list of things didn’t make it seem like much had changed from her usual routine. But even if she seemed normal at a glance, there was definitely something off about her, although that something was very hard to put into words. Well, for now, let’s put that aside. Rhantolk Ytri Historia had a problem. She baked a pound cake. She ground coffee beans and kneaded them into the dough, then added brandy for flavor. Next, she added roasted nuts for a satisfying crunch. Making sweets had always been one of Rhantolk’s hobbies. For a change of pace on days without any training scheduled, she’d occasionally borrow a corner of the kitchen to bake. There was one point in time when she was obsessed with the pursuit of the perfect flavor, so she thought she wasn’t all too terrible at it. She felt like she’d done a good job of baking the pound cake this time. This was some of her best work. She desperately tried to hide her uncontrollable grin. She arranged the pieces on plates and placed them before the little ones, expecting words of praise. But every single one of them, without exception, looked doubtful. “Something’s off,” Tiat mumbled. “It tastes fake.” Pannibal went straight for where it hurt. “So bitter!” Collon cried bluntly, pieces of food still stuck to her cheek. The cake was unanimously unpopular. “…I’ve made a mistake.” She understood immediately why she’d failed. The flavor she strove for was different from the flavors the little ones wanted to eat. She’d forgotten to take such a simple thing into account. That was all. It was such an elementary mistake that she couldn’t have made if she’d simply thought about who was going to be eating the cake. Feeling like her lack of skill was being thrust before her, Rhantolk plopped down on the spot. “Oh, but—but I thought it tasted really good! It tastes so adult!” Lakhesh abruptly stood from her chair, hurriedly doing her best to cheer her up. She was so attentive to the little things and such a good kid. Rhantolk wanted to squeeze her tight. But at the moment, her kindness stung a little. She joined a ball game. The game that was “in” now was one that Rhantolk wasn’t familiar with, so she first listened to the rules. It was a team game. Each team tried to put the ball in the other’s goal. The match was decided when the whole team reached a certain number of points or when every member on the team had scored at least one goal. Interesting. “Willem taught us how to play. He said it’d help train us for cooperative battle.” She found herself irritated by that additional piece of information, but she didn’t show it. She hated how she was being made to think about that second officer even in situations like these, but she put up with it. Instead, she decided to make herself feel better by dominating in the game. She’d underestimated it. Rhantolk was a matured faerie, so her basic physical ability was much greater than that of the young ones. She obviously wouldn’t do something as childish as play with all her strength, but she had assumed the whole game would be ruined if she didn’t hold back the right amount. In reality, they made her go all-out. And she still lost. The reason was clear. One of the victory conditions was having every team member score, and obviously, one person couldn’t accomplish that on her own. And creating opportunities for a teammate to score wasn’t something that could be done simply by being strong or being fast. More than anything, it required comprehensive skills like teamwork, knowing how to provide support, and a strong grasp of the entire battlefield. And so Rhantolk was no match for the little ones when it came to those areas. “The theory is that you save people who can score goals on their own for the second half of the match. You use them as a feint.” “It’s more important to make your teammates the strikers instead of being the striker.” “Guts and spirit!” It was hard to tell if the words that showered the defeated soldier were meant to be support or advice. Rhantolk plopped down on the spot. “I-it’s okay, Rhantolk! I know you’ll get really good in no time!” As always, Lakhesh gave her encouragement, adorably pumping her small fist in front of her chest. She really was a good kid. And again, her kindness made the sulking underdog’s heart sting a little. “Whatcha doin’?” Ithea asked, her head poking out from the rec room window. “What indeed…” Rhantolk’s response was languid as she leaned against the wall. At the end of the day, she still had her pride as one of the eldest faeries. As someone who’d been raised in this faerie warehouse and served as an example for the littlest kids, she couldn’t afford to be beaten by some man who had suddenly shown up out of nowhere. It was almost like Rhantolk was gearing up to fight someone who wasn’t around… And she’d lost spectacularly. “Does the officer really bother you? You know you’re no match against the illusion of someone who’s not here anymore, right?” “That’s not it.” Rhantolk huffed and looked away. “Nya-ha!” “…What? Did I say something funny?” “Naaah, just memories. When the officer first came here, Chtholly said something real similar.” Hold on what do you mean by that listen that is not something I can simply ignore because it’s absolutely not like I feel the same way about him as Chtholly did because I feel the exact opposite in fact and it’s all a coincidence that I had the same reaction so don’t you force that association! “Is that so?” She wanted to scream those honest feelings of hers, but she held them back and responded quietly and simply. They could hear Nopht’s voice carried on the soft wind as she gleefully played with a ball. Whoa, nice! C’mon, don’t lose now! Judging by what they could hear, Nopht had somehow gotten used to the unique ball game without a hitch and was coping well with the little ones. That meant, regardless of age, the only quitter in this game was Rhantolk. Overcome with an intense sense of defeat, she slid her back down the wall, her rear eventually finding the ground. She stifled a sigh and changed the subject. “…By the way, Ithea, I haven’t seen you in the reading room recently.” Up until just a few days ago, Ithea Myse Valgulious had spent all her time holed up in the reading room and the material room, concentrating on some kind of research. It felt like the only time Rhantolk ever saw her outside of those two rooms was during meals, bath time, and bedtime. “Did you find what you wanted to know?” “Nope. The opposite, actually.” Ithea folded her arms on the windowsill, rested her chin on top, and exhaled deeply. “It just made me realize there’s only so much I can look up here.” “If you need documents you can stretch as research relating to us or the dug weapons, you could ask Nygglatho and have the Alliance send you some. Is it material in a different field?” Officially, the faerie warehouse also served as a leprechaun and dug weapon research facility. That was why the accounting division’s purse strings would loosen a bit for specialist material, even if the relevance was a bit of a reach. The research material for the ancient script—the language the emnetwiht of the surface used—that Rhantolk had sunk her teeth into a little before was originally something Nephren, the most omnivorous reader of the whole faerie warehouse, had been wholly interested in for some time. “Nah, ’s not an issue of the subject matter. I’d’a asked for it right away if it was something they could send to me.” Ithea pouted. “It’s apparently a super-rare old text, and only five copies exist on the island cluster. There’s not enough money in the world to buy it, never mind getting permission to see the inside.” “There’s…nothing you can do about that, is there?” “Nope. Nothing I can do.” The two sighed heavily in tandem. Leprechauns were weapons. They weren’t even allowed to leave the faerie warehouse and walk around wherever they pleased. There was no way they had the social credibility to gain access to such a valuable book. “We’re nothing alike, are we?” “Whatcha mean?” “Us and Chtholly. She wouldn’t have stopped at ‘there’s nothing I can do about that.’” “Yeah, you’re right.” Chtholly Nota Seniorious. That certainly was the kind of girl she was. It wasn’t that she was so idiotic that she didn’t understand what was and wasn’t possible. She fully understood the reasoning, and she accepted it. But she was fatally bad at making her logic agree with her emotions. Her logic and feelings would grow further and further and further apart, until she eventually wound up totally losing her grasp on one of them—or suddenly acting supremely weird. It didn’t seem like a smart way to live at all. But to the others, there were times that they thought it was a fun way to live. It was definitely a way to have fun that no one else could copy. …Well, it’s not like I’d want to copy her anyway. Rhantolk thought, pretending not to notice the stinging pain in her heart. “And? What is it you’ve been researching?” “Hmm? You wanna know?” “Yeah, I guess.” Of course she wanted to know. But until that point, she’d somehow never managed to hear it. Just after Ithea lost her best friends, she had swallowed her tears and silently holed herself up in the material room. Rhantolk had found it too hard to approach her then. “May I ask?” “It’s not a secret. All I wanted to know is what we are in the first place, that’s all.” “…So philosophy.” “Nah, that’s not what I mean. I mean that in a more realistic, I guess more physical sense. The officer said that leprechauns themselves existed a long time ago, but they were apparently super different from what we are now.” “How so?” “He said they were smaller and didn’t think about anything.” Rhantolk unconsciously looked toward the field. Little faeries who didn’t seem to be thinking about anything were gleefully running around, covered in mud. Plus, Nopht fit right in, rolling around with them. “Nope, not like that, either.” Ithea waved her hand. “They were apparently small enough to sit on the palm of an emnetwiht’s hand. And since they were a type of ghost, just a natural phenomenon where a fragment of the soul of the dead made a mistake and accidentally took on a physical form, they weren’t much more than illusions that you couldn’t touch.” “Huh…” Faeries were a kind of ghost. Rhantolk knew that. They were a type of natural phenomenon, born as a result of souls that didn’t understand they’d died and wandered aimlessly around the world. She knew that, too. And so…sure, following that line of logic, it was unnatural for the faeries to have solid bodies and a firm sense of self. It made more sense for them to appear as hazy beings like the past faeries Ithea just mentioned—and probably just like what Willem Kmetsch once talked about. “The materialization of souls itself apparently isn’t that unusual. But the souls of those creatures just weren’t big enough, so the most they could do was take the form of a thin mist.” “…That is odd,” Rhantolk remarked, her interest piqued. “If that’s what faeries are supposed to be, then how should we rationalize our existence?” “That’s exactly it. We’re ghosts, but we have all this meat on us… Well, not that much meat.” Why did you look at my body when you said that? You’re much skinnier than I am and I am still much more substantial compared with the rest of the faeries but that isn’t what this is about. “But when I read through current spirit research reports, they talk about stuff that isn’t much different from that. Faeries are souls of the dead, the souls of the dead are spirits, and they’re basically supposed to be incorporeal. They’re physically unstable and quickly go back to nothingness, ’s what they say.” “But…they’re not wrong. This faerie warehouse is a gathering place for the legacies of the past that haven’t been properly analyzed yet. People would be uncomfortable if it wasn’t; we could explode at any time, and that’s exactly why we’ve been shoved off to the outskirts here on Island No. 68.” “That’s true. But there are people who’ve come up with new theories. There’s a manuscript written by one of the old managers who used to work here.” One of the old managers? Maybe she knew who it was. She started to rewind her memory when that thought crossed her mind, but she quickly stopped. The people dispatched here as managers typically did their jobs without ever physically showing up. Of course she’d never remember the face of anyone like that. There was only one face she could think of when hearing the title of faerie warehouse manager—that of the second enchantments officer. “The paper basically said those creatures have souls that’re too small, but if we imagine that there used to be something with a massive soul to begin with, then that could easily explain the existence of the leprechauns or something.” “I’m sorry, what?” It was a more unreasonable theory than she had expected, and she couldn’t help but voice her honest opinion. “They certainly have to do some serious mental gymnastics for that to make sense. Even though that idea could theoretically explain some inconsistencies, it requires us to throw any sense of reality out the window.” “We’re already talking about souls and spirits and stuff anyway, remember? I dunno if it makes sense to start talking about reality so late in the conversation.” “We’re talking about us, and we’re real, so it should be our priority!” “Sure, but…” Ithea beamed. “We’re ghosts and monsters—the fact we’re not real is the main point here.” —That’s… “…But if you put it that way, doesn’t that mean this conversation is…already over?” “Not at all. It’s just the beginning. After all, our existences are the dreams that some kid has during their death. There’s no point looking away from that. And that unknown kid is our precious starting line.” …Sure, that did make some sense somehow. “And by the way, my— No, well, Ithea’s past life was a leprechaun, too. She was here almost twenty years ago, died at eighteen swinging the dug weapon Parchem around.” “…What?” Rhantolk glanced at Ithea in spite of herself. All she saw was that hard-to-read smile she always wore. “And that theory I told you about doesn’t contradict my memory. If we suppose that the leprechauns themselves are just fragments of a huge soul, then that explains how the requirement for a huge soul is met. That’s where the material for new leprechauns comes from.” “Ithea, you…” “Oh, and please keep this a secret from everyone else. Subjectively, I’ve lived for a pretty long time, but the only people I’ve talked about this with are you and Chtholly.” She cackled like she always did. Maybe she’s forgotten how to make the other faces she’s supposed to make at times like these… Rhantolk couldn’t help the thought that crossed her mind. “Oh, and obviously, it’s too early to come to the conclusion that we were the same leprechauns in all of our past lives just from hearing that. And even if we were reborn as the same race over and over again, it’s possible that if we go back far enough, we’ll find that our roots are different, at least. I just wanted to know what the start of it all was.” She couldn’t respond, let alone find the right words in the first place. Rhantolk swallowed a bitter lump of spit. “But, well, I’m at a dead end, so that’s where the conversation’ll end. If the second officer were still here, I might’ve gotten some good advice from ’im. But he’s not, so whatever. “I started all this because I wanted to see if I could find a hint that’d help Chtholly. But I didn’t make it in time, so there’s really no point in continuing anymore.” Ithea burst into laughter. Unusually for her, who usually hid all her other emotions behind her smile, her laugh was so lonely, it made anyone watching want to cry. 6. Emergency Surface Survey Team The enchanted furnace and propellers whirred in a lively manner. The agitated air current was being blasted every which way. Far above the sandy surface, an airship flew, enveloped in the thin, silky wisps of the clouds. The observation crate they’d dropped had reached the sands of the surface without a problem. When they pulled it up to check on it, they couldn’t find anything amiss. That meant they were not within the First Beast Chanteur’s area of control, which weathered everything that came within range into sand. “There’s no sign of it movin’ away… Can’t say with complete confidence that Chanteur suddenly breakin’ down and dying is a farce,” the young boggard muttered doubtfully, scratching his bald head. “Wish it was true, though. If it went off without any notice, then that means it’d probably come back without notice.” “Heh. Intelligent life deals with primitive fear and anxiety with logic and technology.” The gremian, clad in a Guard uniform, wagged his finger and huffed. The first officer rank insignia was embroidered on his shoulder. “We’ve already placed explosives far off in all directions around us. They’re specially made so that if any of their outer wrappings are damaged by something other than a simple shock, they will promptly create a very loud noise. Is this Chanteur or whatever you call it constantly disintegrating things? If so, then one of those barrels will definitely explode the moment it appears. We just need to leisurely make our way outta here if we hear that noise.” “That sure sounds handy. But what should we do if the enemy comes crawling up from below us?” The gremian, who’d been standing with his chest puffed out in pride, suddenly stopped. “…Does the Beast hide under the sand?” “Uh, I dunno. It’s not weird for any of ’em to be up to no good, though. There’s just a lot of mysteries around Chanteur especially.” “W-we cannot possibly do anything to counter that much. Technology exists to solve problems with known details.” “If you say so, then I don’t mind.” The airship began to lower its altitude. The boggard put his goggles back on and turned his attention down to the vast, gray surface. “It’s not like all the problems that come rollin’ our way are gonna be polite enough to introduce themselves, y’know. You’re the type to start panicking only after the situation gets out of hand, aren’t you?” “Mrgh…” He probably wanted to say something back. But it was only a few months ago that this very gremian had lost the initiative in a situation just like this one and made a very sorry display of himself. He stayed silent for a moment, likely recalling what had happened. “Well, that’s it, really. Just don’t let your guard down. I’m not gonna ask you to perfectly deal with everything that happens from here on out. Just want you to do something, whatever happens.” “…I will do what I can.” He spoke quietly, bitterly. The boggard, Glick Graycrack, was silently impressed with how much more understanding the gremian had become. It was just the other day that this first officer was not the type to lend an ear to what other people had to say. Though there was still some resistance in him, Glick’s words had somehow made it to his ears, unlike back then. The very fact that he’d taken on the job to lead this expedition to the surface meant that what he’d experienced that day had been a huge turning point for him. That day—the day a huge swarm of Sixes, Timeres, attacked and sank the airship Plantaginesta, they had all lost so many things. So many lives snuffed out, so many injuries sustained. And more than anything, after watching those girls fight, they’d lost the precious asset of ignorance. They had been protected this entire time. It was thanks to the faeries’ battles that they had been able to enjoy peaceful days. Their daily lives were built on the corpses of girls who died every day. A heavy mixture of guilt and powerlessness sat deep in their stomachs. Once they learned that, they could never unlearn it. They also became painfully aware of the reason why the leprechauns and dug weapons were treated as classified information even within The Winged Guard. It was obvious that the fewer who felt this way, the better. Even the ones who were simply being protected felt this way. How had Willem, that powerless emnetwiht who desperately wanted to keep those girls safe, felt about all this…? “…Weird.” Glick could see several things out of place as he stared hard at the ground. “Wh-what is it? A Beast?” “Nah.” He shook his head. Those weren’t traces left by a Beast—the opposite, in fact. In an obscured spot behind a rock, there were small stones arranged in a circle. Charred pieces of wood. Abandoned crates. “Remains of a camp.” And these remains still retained their obvious shape, despite how strong the wind was on the ground. That meant these weren’t very old. “Looks like someone caught a whiff of Chanteur’s disappearance and came down before us. Dunno which salvagers they might’ve been, but they’ve got sharp noses.” “What?” The gremian’s beady eyes widened, but his eyesight wasn’t suited for such long distances as a boggard’s. He strained his eyes as hard as he could toward the ground. However, when he couldn’t find anything, he just tilted his head. “Does that mean they’ve made a mess of things before we could get to it?” “We’re about to find out.” Glick removed the binoculars that hung around his neck and handed them over. The gremian snatched them away without a word of thanks and leaned over the window, looking down to the ground. “The K96-M.A.L. Ruins. It sure is a miracle to find an emnetwiht ruin that’s still in such good shape, so it’s a delicious spot for salvagers…but still.” Glick crossed his arms, and since he didn’t have eyebrows, he just wrinkled his forehead. “But is it really worth coming down to take a bite so soon after hearing that one Beast might’ve disappeared? …It’s weird.” “Do you mean it’s not profitable?” “Nah, that’s not the problem…” As he was about to deny it, a thought crossed his mind. It sure was strange in that sense, too. Coming down to the surface was a huge gamble for salvagers. Even simply crossing the barrier that covered the island cluster was costly. The energy costs and rations for a round trip weren’t something to be sneezed at. If he was going to hire workers besides his own fellow salvagers, then he’d need to shell out for danger pay. Depending on the contract, there were times they had to leave a solatium with a specialist office ahead of time to send to their employees’ families in the worst-case scenario. Even though it cost so much to go down to the surface, there were no promises of a payout. No one knew what was down there, but that was exactly why they never knew what they’d find—that was the allure of the surface, and at the same time, that was the reality of life as a salvager. There were times they’d find riches that dazzled them, but there were also times they didn’t find anything worth even a fraction of a cent. The ratio of success leaned very heavily toward the latter. That’s why the salvagers, Glick himself included, were all such laid-back types. They might come across some nice stuff. Something good might happen. Even in the face of such uncertain information, they’d still all willingly get on board to go and find out what was waiting for them. All salvagers had this bad habit. And yet— “This is way too early to come for a taste. Whoever it was that got here first was gathering way more detailed info on the area, more than the Guard’s monitoring collected.” “Hmm?” It didn’t look like he understood what Glick was saying. “But even then, a trip down here costs an obscene amount of money. Y’never know what you’re gonna get in the salvager line of work, so it’s unnatural to suddenly drop that much money.” “Hmmmm?” It didn’t sound like the gremian understood any better. “It’s just weird that they’d come here immediately after a Beast disappeared. They don’t stand to gain anything from doing that—it’s just dangerous. If I had to guess, I’d say they could be doing it to get a head start on other salvagers… Wait, I mean the opposite. They’re convinced it’s worth the cost and risk—basically, they’re absolutely sure it’s profitable to get a head start…” “Hmmmmmm?” The gremian’s little hand firmly smacked the boggard’s back. Glick couldn’t keep himself from stumbling forward, almost falling out the window. “Ow, dude!” “That’s because you left me behind to go into your own world. Don’t worry about that anymore and start getting ready.” “…For what?” “To disembark, of course. What can we do just staring down from up here? You know we flew all this way to go to the surface, right?” —Yeah. You’re absolutely right. K96-M.A.L. Ruins—a resting place that once housed a great many emnetwiht. They had business here. “Oh, but there’s something I need to check before we do that. How’s it looking, adviser? Does it seem safe for us to land?” “Hmm… Yeah, sure. I don’t see anything that looks like an obvious danger.” “Very well. Tell the chief engineer to close off the second and sixth control wings to prepare for landing and stop the sub-furnace for now, but make sure to be ready to start up again at any moment!” he hollered into the intercom, and the gremian’s tiny body dashed down the corridor. It made Glick feel a little sick being asked for proper advice like that. But he didn’t voice how he really felt and swallowed, turning his gaze toward a spot near the horizon. “…Huh?” He saw a red speck. He squinted. He couldn’t tell what it was. He put his eyes up to the binoculars. This time, he could see the little details. It was a small girl, a red cloth wrapped around her body. “……Huh?” He tilted his head. He looked up from the binoculars, checked to make sure they weren’t broken, then once again confirmed there was a girl walking along the horizon, and then— “Th-that’s the little gray girlie?!” he exclaimed, neither in anguish nor joy.