Once This War Is Over -starry road to tomorrow- 1. That Day Long, Long Ago A long fight finally drew to a close. The sun had set three times and risen three more. Ocean water rushed in where sheer mountains had stood before the war, forming a large bay. The flames of purgatory unleashed upon the trees showed no signs of abating, continuing to spread death and black ash. Countless metal fragments were scattered about. If someone knowledgeable examined the scene closely, it would have been evident they were the remains of ruined talismans. The majority of the shards had once been a part of the Deflect charm, manufactured to the highest of standards at the Holy Empire Central Workshop. The fragmented clusters of bronze floating in the bay’s waves were broken pieces of the Allay Terminal Disease charm, passed down within the West Garmando Sands Federation. The molten iron bubbling red among the trees had, just a few days earlier, been the secret of the Selenzrode School of Magic, the Protection of Fate charm. It was a grand collection of the greatest of battle magic used by all mankind, gathered from quite literally all over the world. They had all been spent and now littered the ground. “—Man, you sure made this take a while.” The young man felt like he didn’t have enough strength to move even a single finger. He tossed away his broken sword and sat on a nearby rock. “No one told me I had to do this much to win, sheesh.” “I should be the one saying that, young one.” The air shuddered at the bitter voice. The old man’s voice sounded like it echoed from the depths of the abyss. “However…I shall acknowledge that you have had your own way thus far by straining that punitive life of yours.” “That doesn’t make me happy. Your recognition isn’t gonna grant me more time… Also, you’re talking like normal, but aren’t you supposed to be dead?” “Indeed. Even I, with my physical form so thoroughly destroyed as it is, must steep this body into the hush of death for a hundred years. What communicates with you now is, simply put, my echoes.” “Oh, great. That’s a relief.” Eleven Percival-series swords with seven ruinous spells, “sharpened” to a level of self-destruction. He had even forced himself to use the Braves’ final sword techniques, which he had no right to activate. If all that hadn’t killed it, there was nothing more he could do. “I say this as I fully accept it, but what a terrifying tale. You wield so much power alone, despite how powerless you are. It is truly, truly frightening. Had you used that power in the realm of man, it could have reduced two or three kingdoms to ash in a single night. But…of course, it seems it was not power without price.” The young man snorted. Long, stringy clouds of mist floated around the young man. As they slowly, slowly grew in number, they coiled around his body, as though trying to bind him. “That is the magnitude of that spell. The reaction becomes a curse and torments the caster. Casting just one is more than enough to shatter a person’s body, and it would not be surprising if your very soul disappeared, as well. To cast seven of them—you may be plagued by unspeakable agony.” “If it’s gonna end with me dying, then it doesn’t matter if I cast one or seven, and if I can’t fight anymore, then it doesn’t matter if it hurts or I’m in pain.” “…That does not seem like sound logic.” “People have been telling me that for years, but hearing it from a real monster makes it feel a little different.” The voice cackled. “You cannot stand up to the gods without such measures, hmm? “—Our time of parting has come to pass. I shall slumber now for a hundred years.” “Hurry up and get outta here. At least let it be quiet when I die.” “Very well. I can recognize that much as your right as the victor—” The voice faded, and along with the overpowering sensation that filled the air around the young man, it vanished into the wind. “Hey, you dead yet?” He called, and no response came. There was a dry creak by the young man’s feet. He used all his strength to lift his head and look down and saw that his ankles and feet had turned into rough, chunky stone. —The hell is this? There was a chorus of quiet crackling noises, and the gray crept up along his body. To his knees. To his thighs. To his waist. Then farther up. One after the other, the seven curses that should have cost him his life…intermingled elaborately, and after a series of mutual interferences, they manifested in a completely divergent form. As his chest began to petrify, the young man smiled again. “I had planned on going home, though. How on earth did this happen?” He looked up at the sky, and he imparted to all those precious to him under that same sky words that would never reach them. “Sorry, Lillia. Get home safely with the master. “Sorry, Suowong. I want you to go along with all of Lillia’s requests from now on. “Emi, I…I didn’t promise you anything. I think you’ll be fine on your own, but, well, at least live on happy and healthy.” Then… Then… As he uttered his last words, the young man’s body was turning to stone with frightening speed. There were too many he wanted to name. He had so little time left. There wasn’t much he could do about it. He sifted through all the names that came to mind until only one remained in his sieve. “Almaria, I’m really sorry—” The last name he chose was that of his daughter, unrelated to him by blood, who awaited him in an orphanage far away. “—I don’t think I’ll be back to eat that butter cake.” At last, there was a quiet ding. All that was left was a hunk of stone in the shape of a young man. 2. The One Who Should Not Be Alive “What is this?” That was the first thing Nygglatho said once she was finished treating him. “What is wrong with your body?” “Ha-ha-ha, I guess you could say I’ve gotten pretty rusty. I haven’t held a sword in ages, so my body couldn’t keep up.” “I don’t need to hear your jokes. You should know very well what this means or, at the very least, what sort of situation you’re in.” Nygglatho wore a serious expression, and on top of that, her eyes were bloodshot for some reason and her voice shaky. It didn’t seem like he’d be able to blow this off with a joke. “To put it frankly? You’re in tatters. You have hairline fractures in almost all your bones, and they’re not healing. You have several weakened tendons, and they haven’t recovered. Almost half your internal organs aren’t working properly. Meditative healing isn’t my specialty, so I’m not entirely sure, but viewed from that angle, it’s safe to say your internal flow of energy is a complete mess.” He thought she was probably right. Willem didn’t know anything about that but was aware that his body was a wreck. “I wouldn’t even have to pull out a knife for the fibers in your meat, either. They’re so full of tears, I could rip them apart with my teeth alone.” He wished she wouldn’t say that with such a sad look on her face. “And these aren’t wounds from yesterday or today. They’re all old. Does that mean you’ve been keeping them a secret all this time?” “It’s not really a secret.” “It’s the same even if you act indifferent and keep quiet about it! How much did you have to exercise to walk and move like this…?” Nygglatho sighed deeply. “…These wounds are the aftereffect of turning into stone, aren’t they?” “It’s more like the damage from the fight before that happened. Well, I was in a state where just being alive was a huge bonus. I’m not asking for much.” “That’s no excuse for treating your life so lightly.” “Guess not.” He shrugged—well, he wanted to, but pain shot throughout his entire body when he tried, so he just smiled vaguely instead. “Don’t push yourself too hard.” Nygglatho gently placed her palm on his hand. Reflexively, his heart beat faster. “You’ll lose your flavor.” He’d thought she was going to say something like that. “Can I tell the children?” “Sure. Like I said, it really wasn’t a secret to begin with. If you feel like you have to, tell them as much as you need.” “All right. I’ll be off, then. You stay here and rest in the meantime. I think you know this already, but anything that will put a strain on your body is absolutely forbidden, okay? I can’t guarantee the life of someone clinging to it under such mysterious circumstances.” “Got it. I’m not gonna do anything that’ll add an extra dish to your dinner,” he strained to say. “This is not funny. I’m being serious.” “…O-okay.” She huffed at him with a serious expression and pouted her lips, but it wasn’t very intimidating. Who was it who’d been talking about flavor just now? He felt like something was unfair about this, but he didn’t protest. That would probably be best for his health, but…more importantly, he knew it wasn’t very good manners to use a joke to hide how embarrassed he was that someone was worried for him. She chose the dining hall as the place for all the faeries to gather. Nygglatho garnered the attention of almost twenty of them, then sighed. “…I see you’re all looking at me with such expectant faces, but it might not be a very fun story, okay?” “Well, we can decide that afterward. We’re, you know…not really excited, but we want to know the truth.” Ithea had spoken. The faeries around her nodded eagerly. It didn’t seem Nygglatho would be getting out of this one. “I suppose I have no choice,” she muttered, readying herself, and began to speak. “It was around spring last year, I think. Just before I was dispatched here. I had to work together with salvagers once, under orders of the Orlandry Alliance.” “Salvagers!!” The eyes of several faeries glittered. The salvagers, chasers of romance who dove headfirst into danger, had a heroic popularity among some of the children in Regule Aire. That being said, they were rather more popular with boys. “They were basically not very good at their jobs. They went down to the surface many times, but they didn’t bring back much. That day, they were just about to return to the islands empty-handed, but a clumsy fellow stepped through the ground and fell in—” There, the troupe had discovered an enormous frozen underground lake. Then they’d spotted a stone statue of a young featureless man sunken at the bottom of the lake, she explained. “It’s like ‘Icicle Coffin.’” One of the girls mentioned the title of a fairy tale. “There wasn’t a princess inside but a statue of a man.” One of their companions who could use Sight noticed that it wasn’t just a statue but a real person turned into stone by some sort of curse. After that, of course, they’d lost the option of just going home and leaving him untouched. They laboriously shattered the ice and pulled out the statue. It was a heavy load, but they managed to take it back to the island. After throwing him in a charity hospital for about a month, the petrification finally wore off, and he woke up. “It was quite the hassle, then. He would act unruly whenever he saw a boggard or an orc, and he couldn’t understand our language at all. We brought in a communications master from the Alliance, and we were able to talk with him for the first time. Eventually, we found out that he was a real emnetwiht. The last surviving soldier of a race that had made enemies of everyone but themselves. I don’t know why, but he slept for hundreds of years at the bottom of that lake…” “He was on the surface that whole time and was never eaten by a Beast?” “Possibly because he had turned to stone. Arguably the only good thing to come of the situation.” The language problem had been comparatively easy to solve. One of the ancient talismans on the ground near the ice was Language Comprehension. The young man used the charm and began talking about himself bit by bit, and he understood the information about the present the salvagers explained to him. Nygglatho still remembered the expression of despair on his face. She couldn’t forget how he’d wailed in lament. He was most likely the last of the emnetwiht, who should have all perished long ago. The companions decided to leave this special being alone, just as he wished. Nygglatho didn’t know much about what happened afterward. The man went on to live on Island No. 28 of all places—making his home where people were most critical of the featureless—and worked incredibly hard to pay off the debt he had incurred from the analeptics, the hospital, the communications master, etc. That was about as much as she heard from one of the salvagers. Then…that’s right. He’d come here. The young man had grown in this past year and a half. His smile came out more now. He even showed how oddly nice he was toward the children. And yet. The pitch-black flame of emptiness that gloomily shivered deep in his eyes had not changed from back then. “That’s all I know.” Withholding some of the more subjective things, Nygglatho finished telling the general story. The girls looked at one another, whispering among themselves in some sort of exchange. “—And that’s all I can tell you. Another thing I can do is ask you a favor. It might not be possible right away, but please don’t be too afraid of him or alienate him too much… That’s all.” With that, Nygglatho took her leave of the dining hall. As Nygglatho walked down the corridor, she thought to herself, I think I made a mistake. The emnetwiht race was detested. Willem himself might not have had anything to do with it, but it had been, without a doubt, the emnetwiht who’d unleashed the Seventeen Beasts to begin destroying the world. She didn’t think these leprechauns would treat him the same as the rest of society. But even if they didn’t act that way, it was possible they would respond similarly. The girls were beings meant to fight against the Seventeen Beasts, weapons that were exhausted in those battles. The responsibility for creating this fate of theirs, if they traced it all the way back, lay with the emnetwiht. And yet. If it was something she could prevent—she didn’t want the kids to reject him. She didn’t want to destroy this place, where that young man somehow managed a smile despite the fact that there was no home for him left in this world. Nygglatho was sure he didn’t wish for something like that. He’d tried to learn the truth about the faeries and had revealed the truth about himself. Nygglatho didn’t want his decisions to go to waste. That was why she brought up the past. Still, that didn’t mean her desire not to give up had disappeared. She knew how selfish it was, but somehow, she wanted the children to stay by Willem’s side, as they always had— She stopped in her tracks. An uneasy sensation tickled the back of her neck. No. Such a thing couldn’t be happening now, not with this timing. But at the same time, she also thought it was something they’d do. Quickly, about-face. She rushed toward the infirmary. Just as she approached the corner in the corridor— “Willie! We heard the story! You were destroyed?” She heard carefree voices. She stumbled forward. “Wow, emnetwiht are a lot like us!” “Very interesting. I hope you’ll tell us stories about your time.” “U-um, I don’t know how to say this very well, but please cheer up.” The infirmary was crowded with faeries. They were crowded around the bed of a patient with serious injuries who’d been on the verge of death just moments earlier, and they were making quite a ruckus. “…” Nygglatho stood absently in front of the door for about ten seconds. Another five seconds to smile at how ridiculous her worries had been. Honestly, she could have easily imagined things ending up this way; what had she been so afraid of? She was so happy to see the girls all trying to encourage Willem each in her own way and took another two seconds to wipe the smile off her face. A full seven seconds to take a deep breath and switch modes. “Girls?” The lot of them froze in place. With the creaky sound of a rusty screw, they all turned their heads to look at her. “The patient is very tired right now and is resting. You need to be quiet. Bad children that don’t listen…” Slowly, calmly, a smile spread across her face like a tear in fabric. “…know what happens to them, don’t they?” It didn’t even take ten seconds. The girls pushed out of the room and sprinted down the hall. “Wow, sure is quiet now.” Ithea peeked out from behind her. “If you’re going to be noisy, then I’ll chase you away, too.” “Nya-ha-ha, I’d prefer you didn’t.” She smiled lightly, a vague expression on her face making it difficult to tell if she was serious or joking. “But there’s something I want to check with the dying man here. You think you can let me do that?” “…What do you want to ask?” Before Nygglatho could say anything, Willem responded. Nygglatho wouldn’t be able to interject now. “Thanks,” Ithea said with her usual smile, slipping into the room and sitting down in a small chair situated by the side of the bed. “First, let me just reconfirm: You’re emnetwiht, right?” “I guess at some point, we started being called that. When I lived on the surface, we didn’t go out of our way to give our race a special name. We were just people, and any other race was treated as a monstrosity.” “Barbarous times, they were.” “Well, I won’t deny that… So what are you getting at?” Ithea smiled complacently. “…So why would such a great emnetwiht bother with us?” she asked, her expression suddenly growing serious, her voice low. “We’re grateful for you, Second Enchantments Officer. But after hearing what you really are, I’m completely lost again as to why you’d use up all your energy in a place like this. Fighting with Chtholly when you’re in such a tattered state just puts your life at risk. It’s kind of weird that you’d do that much without a real reason, y’know?” “Of course I want to be nice to girls.” “…That’s a little straightforward.” Ithea’s expression softened, and she scratched her cheek with the tip of her finger. “Sure, biologists say it’s natural for a male of a species to be kind toward its female counterparts, but I think you know, right? This is just appearance for us.” Leprechauns were all female. She didn’t know why, but it was a truth she couldn’t do anything about. At the very least, she hadn’t found any exceptions. Strictly speaking, they weren’t life-forms, but “things” that multiplied naturally, so there was no inherent liability to not having males. Therefore, no one thought it was much of a problem, but to put it another way: “All of us are girls, so it’s like we don’t have a sex in the first place. We’re basically slugs.” “I don’t get it.” Willem snorted with a smile. “The molding unit at the Capital Puppeteering Troupe would get so mad if they heard that.” “Huh? Sure, I guess, but I don’t know who that is.” “…Then, I guess, it’s like this. You like kittens?” “Huh? Well, I guess as much as anyone else.” “You want to keep them safe?” “Sure, as much as anyone else.” “That’s basically it.” “Wait…I don’t get what you mean.” Willem thought for a moment. “This is something I heard long ago. Things that have adorable outward appearances don’t just spring up randomly. They have an innate nature that wants to be loved, protected, cherished, so they develop that way. “So whether animal or person, that’s why kids are cute, regardless of race. They desperately hope that they’re something people want to protect…understand?” “…Are you saying we’re the same?” “You’re irregular beings. Your origins are souls that could take on whatever aberrant form they wanted, but instead, you’re born not only as children but as little girls. Does that convince you?” “So you’re a big ol’ softy to your whole race, huh—? When we take into account your taste in young girls, Officer, then it all makes sense.” “Hey, come on, where’d you get that from?!” The two laughed together. What was that? Nygglatho wondered. She felt miserable, fretting over what it was that made her worry so much. In the end, neither the faeries nor Willem himself had considered what she’d been concerned about earlier as deeply as Nygglatho had expected; it was terribly egocentric of her. Everyone only ever acted according to their own logic and standards. To put it simply, they were just a herd of idiots. And idiots were idiots because they couldn’t become sharp that quickly. They were idiots because they could laugh so freely. Ohhh, I love you all so much. For some reason, everyone got incredibly frightened when she said things like that out loud, so she settled on yelling it in her heart. 3. The Stray Girl and the Flying Lizard …What am I doing? Chtholly Nota Seniorious ran. She flew from her living quarters known as the warehouse, ran through the forest, ran through the port, and with no more land to run on, she sprouted wings from her back and flew. She didn’t know why. But she had to. She mostly understood what Willem had wanted to convey through that (what Chtholly considered) sham fight. That had been a mistake. And she couldn’t handle it. Comparing the current Guard’s deployable firepower and the strength of the group to Timere, whose attack was imminent, it was impossible to guarantee victory. That was why she had to be ready to be a sacrifice in order to temporarily raise the bar on their power. That was the current situation. But there was another solution: Raise the standard of firepower itself. They’d known all along that they were not using the dug weapons to their fullest potential. They were complicated creations made so long ago, after all, and even if they weren’t, their capabilities had naturally deteriorated. Not only that, but none of them came with an instruction manual, so the users had to feel out how to activate them by trial and error, bypassing the user authentication with dummies—in other words, using faeries to get by. For all their efforts, they just barely managed to force the weapons to activate. It was obvious. Once someone who knew how they were meant to be used showed up, the whole situation changed. It was time to reevaluate their forces. They could once again place their two choices on the scales: “Victory at the expense of countless lives” and “Certain victory with the least amount of sacrifices.” It would be the same as recognizing their fights had been misguided up to that point. It would be the same as rubbing their noses in the fact that everyone they had lost until now had been no more than pointless victims. It would be the same as determining her resolve, as someone prepared for her own death and fully aware that she would be lost along the way just like all who’d gone before her, was in itself worthless. “This isn’t…funny…” Six months ago. The day they’d predicted an attack by an especially large Timere. The moment they’d announced they had no other recourse but to push the leprechaun Chtholly Nota Seniorious into overdrive. “But I was so scared…” Of course she didn’t want to die. Once she knew her time was limited, she’d started thinking of things she wanted to do. Even so, she’d cried and cried, putting on a strong face day after day. “I was finally ready…” Not even a month ago, she’d decided she wouldn’t cry anymore, but now, she couldn’t help the tears clouding her eyes. No, I’m not gonna cry now. The more she forced herself, the less she could hold back the welling tears on the brink of spilling over. “Gh, nghhh…!” She squeezed her eyes shut. She stopped flapping her wings. Her flight turned into a free fall. The wind howled in her ears. Below her was a thick sea of white clouds. Perfect, she thought. She’d get soaked if she flew through the clouds. Then no one would be able to tell she’d been crying. She simply let her body drop. Chtholly entered the clouds. Clouds are essentially thick fog in high places. Though they looked like cotton, they felt like nothing, and though she had dived in, she didn’t make a splash. What was there was simply a whiteness that filled her vision and a dampness—a void of nothingness in the sky. “Oh—” —no, she thought. She’d forgotten a crucial detail. It was autumn. Winter was nearing. Once her whole body was wet, it became terribly cold. “Shoot…” Whether bird or faerie, physical strength is incredibly important during flight. The cold was rapidly stealing her strength. Even more alarming, there were no conveniently placed floating stones for her to rest on. Should she fly to the nearest island? Or just go back the way she came? Neither were totally impossible. But when she thought about getting home, the former wasn’t very realistic. Then, of course, she had no other option but to go the way she came, but she genuinely hesitated to act. What should she do? Her body shivered, falling backward through the clouds, and she weighed her choices. Though there was only one conclusion, she forced the conflict brewing inside her, as though she didn’t want to do it. While that was happening— “Hmm…?” —a black shadow suddenly emerged in a corner of her whitened vision. Five minutes later. The Winged Guard patrol airship Barocupot, inside the small war room on the second deck. It was cramped. Incredibly cramped. It was, of course, the small war room and consequently not very big. However, it was a war room and had to be large enough to fit a certain number of people. There were only two occupants now. So why did she feel so cramped? The answer was simple. One of the two was a giant lizardfolk, easily twice Chtholly’s height. Double her height meant double her weight, and his intensity was eight times as great. The room felt much smaller. After she scrubbed her head with a borrowed towel, Chtholly looked up at the lizardfolk’s face. “…I’m sorry for intruding so suddenly, First Officer Limeskin. I saw you flying nearby, I just…” “I do not mind. The hermitage of wind is alwaysss open to the warrior,” the lizardfolk said as he placed a warm cup of medicinal tea onto the table. There was a surreal humor in the way he hunched over, gently holding the small cup like a toy. “Thank you.” She took the cup and brought it to her lips. It was hot. And bitter. Her body involuntarily stiffened as a prickly sensation tickled the tip of her tongue. “However, I do wonder whhhy you were flying through the cloudss in thisss ssseasson. Not to mention, you have a very important fight before you. What happened?” “Urgh…” She faltered. She hesitated. She wavered. She thought. Then she opened her mouth. “About that fight… It would be bad to say that I am afraid of dying just before it, wouldn’t it?” “Hmm?” The lizardfolk raised an eyebrow, or so it looked. He, of course, didn’t have eyebrows, so it was just her imagination. “It’s…Willem, Second Enchantments Officer Willem.” “Hmm.” Chtholly knew. Second Enchantments Officer Willem Kmetsch currently stationed at the faerie warehouse was a soldier who only existed on paper, nothing but a rank. But nonetheless, he was a soldier who definitely existed in military documents. And his direct superior on paper was the giant lizardfolk that sat before her—First Officer Limeskin. “He said he has a different way of fighting than the one we’ve always used. He actually showed me a bit of it. I couldn’t make out what he did very well, but it made me understand something very clearly. It would certainly have a higher chance of victory, be more effective, and…is much more correct than our way.” “Oh…?” She dropped her gaze into the cup. “I don’t want to accept this. I don’t want to believe that all my sisters before me were wrong and didn’t have to die. That was why I wasn’t going to listen to him. I didn’t have any time left anyhow. I was going to prove it on the battlefield. I thought I had to protect the way my sisters fought, to prove that they were right. But…” “Were you afraid?” She couldn’t nod straightaway. Limeskin was very particular about the word warrior. Perhaps it was characteristic of the lizardfolk race. Chtholly didn’t understand the details of his strict definition, but apparently, she was recognized as a warrior in accordance with his own standards. If she nodded now, he would probably be disappointed in her. He might see it as her losing courage and throwing away her qualifications to be a warrior. But even so… “…Yes.” She could not lie. “Kh-kh-kh, I sssee.” Suddenly— The lizardfolk opened his mouth wide. The rasping clang that sounded like a ceramic bell being whirled about surged from the depths of his throat. “…Huh? Huh?” An odd, loud voice reverberated far above her head. “I sssee. Thiss meanss we musst apologizze to the man. Though hiss battlefield differesss from oursss, he iss undoubtedly a warrior himssself.” It took her a while to realize he was laughing. “Wh-why? Why do you think that? We’re the ones fighting!” “To fight againsst the Beasstsss is our war. But that iss not Willem’ss war. What he iss trying to contend with iss the wind inssside of you.” “…The wind?” “The identity of what you call ‘resssolve.’ Perhapsss it is eassier to underssstand if I call it ‘resssignation’?” Blood rushed to her head. She drank down the entire cup of medicinal tea. Her insides grew hot as though she was being roasted. What on earth do they boil to make something like this? Why would the cold-blooded lizardfolk make something like this anyway? Several absurd questions came to mind, but Chtholly shoved them all into the corner of her thoughts. Now was not the time to be dwelling on such things. “Why—?” Her heart felt lighter. It also felt like a hole had opened inside it, but that probably didn’t make much of a difference. “First Officer, you knew I never had the qualifications to be a warrior, didn’t you? You are quite adept at flattery, after all… I was being quite serious.” “What are you talking about? Like the ssun sssetting in the north, it iss unthinkable for the proud ssscaled people to sspeak liesss.” “But didn’t you just say I was resigned?” “Resssignation and resssolve are, in essence, the sssame thing. Both indicate the abandonment of sssomething important for the ssake of one’sss goalss.” —That’s… That line of thinking jumbled the sacred and the abominable into one. “Isn’t resolve supposed to be, like, something much more important?” “The value of everything iss determined only by the weight of the cossst. There iss worth in the resssolve of throwing away what iss important. And naturally, the resssignation of doing the same iss worth jussst asss much.” “I don’t really understand.” “Cssertainly, I cannot ssay it iss not befitting of a warrior to be confounded by the beauty of wordsss,” he said, his unearthly laugh rattling in his throat. “Then…what should I do?” “That iss up to you.” “…I’m asking because I don’t know. What is the right answer?” “There iss no sssuch fanciful thing asss a ‘right anssswer’ on the battlefield. That iss why the warrior musst embrace the wind that blowsss within her. Ssso that she may be led along on a guidelessss road.” “…First Officer…” Oh no. She had no idea what he was earnestly trying to say. She’d understood everything until a few moments ago. Regardless of whether she was happy with his insight, she’d managed to grasp what he was trying to convey. But likely since he had grown more invested in the subject, his circular way of talking and the details of the conversation itself were growing more and more complicated. She felt like he was saying something important to her, and it wasn’t something that totally escaped her emotional grasp, but she had no idea what he meant. “You ssaid you wisshed to protect the righteousssnesss of your ssissterss’ fight, yesss?” “…Yes.” “Then, before the fight, I want you to disscover what that righteousssness iss. We only understand your fight intellectually. The work itssself, your hissstory, the emotional hisstory that hidesss behind it—everything. Ssso it iss only you who hasss the right to evaluate what iss righteouss.” “…That’s irresponsible of you, First Officer.” “The wind blowsss unburdened.” He brushed it off with (what looked like) a cool expression. Chtholly sighed slightly. For some reason, she now felt like giving up on a lot of things. Right, hadn’t she just been told that resignation and resolve were the same thing? Now that made sense. Now that she thought about it, she certainly felt like she had guts. “…You might get angry at me, but I need to tell you something.” “What?” “I actually never wanted to be a warrior.” His throat rattled in a cackle. “I know. That iss why you have become a sssplendid warrior.” …They really weren’t on the same page. Damn it all… She swallowed her frustration as she gulped down her second cup of medicinal tea. 4. The Starry Sky Beneath the Starry Sky “She’s currently aboard a Winged Guard patrol airship near Island No. 66.” “…How’d that happen?” “I don’t know, but they told me she was coming back now. They said they would take her part of the way and that she would make the rest of the trip on foot.” Nygglatho clicked off the connection on the communication crystal. “Sure was an interesting way to run away from home, huh? Worried me sick.” “I know—I’m so envious of the children with wings. They have such an abundance of ways to express themselves. All I can do to relieve my stress when I’m upset is binge eat.” She sighed, a hint of sorrow in her expression. “They really do adore you. Not only her, but the others as well. I’m a bit jealous, I suppose, as their caretaker.” “Yeah? Like how?” “Oh, have you not noticed?” Nygglatho placed a hand to her mouth with a look of surprise. “Are you the dull sort? Or are you simply good at hiding it?” “The hell do you mean?” “Let’s see. There is a broad group of awful men who insist they have no interest in romance but actually want girls to approach them and feel good.” …What does that mean? “The dull ones actually don’t notice when someone likes them and never do, no matter what happens. It’s rather enjoyable to see the girl’s impatience after nothing she says or does works and the interesting ways her attempts escalate. In another variation, there are the mistaken sort of men who confuse the affection the girl shows him for a different feeling. “The ones who hide it actually realize when someone likes them, but they purposefully act like they don’t. They’re similar to the dull ones but have the characteristic of adding plenty of spice, like feelings of guilt for tricking the other or situations where the smitten ends up realizing he’s pretending not to notice. “So which are you?” “…This is ridiculous. I don’t even know what I should call bullshit on first.” Willem sighed deeply. “Take your fiction somewhere else. I’m not gonna deny they act like they’re interested in me or anything like that.” “Oh.” Nygglatho’s eyes widened. “That was unexpected. Almost as though you plan to go with the disinterested act.” “Don’t call it an act. I’m not putting on a show here.” He scratched his head. “I’m being serious now. Romantic feelings just bubble up from within by themselves when you get old enough, whether you have someone or not. Most people just find someone close at hand to throw their feelings at, whether that’s someone of the opposite sex who happens to be nearby, or a person they look up to who’s out of reach, or even an ideal they might find one day out in the world. In some cases, they channel their feelings and everything at a daydream that doesn’t exist… But those girls have never been able to do any of that. “Then I come in. I took things that were at zero and turned them into one. Now they suddenly have somewhere to direct their feelings. If they can give a good excuse for those feelings they’ve got bottled up, that means they’ve created an excellent romance for themselves— What’s with the stare?” A sharp glare of disgust bored straight through Willem. “It’s a look of astonishment at having found a man far more awful than I’d imagined.” “Why? It’s normal. To be blunt, most girls end up with a strong father complex at one point or another. The fact they like me makes me happy, and it’s an honor, but there’s nothing more to it.” “…That was an incredibly underwhelming answer.” Nygglatho’s tone was clearly dissatisfied, so he just shrugged. “Underwhelming just means things are quiet. Isn’t that a good thing?” “Well… Yes, I won’t deny that. But”—Nygglatho pointed straight at his chest—“let me say this as a girl myself: It is absolutely unbearable to have your feelings ignored so philosophically. The kids might certainly be children, but they are girls. I can’t stand men who refuse to recognize that. I’m sure they’re terrible for my digestion.” As a girl, huh? I’m not sure she’s young enough to call herself that. No, he wouldn’t dare touch that. He was a considerate enough man to do that much. He didn’t want to be digested. “…No matter how young those feelings might be, too. For some of the children, those are their last thoughts, so I want you to confront those emotions properly. No more jokes. I ask you this earnestly, from the bottom of my heart.” “No.” Willem’s response was curt. “…If love and romance are supposed to be so wonderful, then how is a temporary fling in a tiny place like this supposed to help? Regule Aire is huge. There’s a handful of other amazing men. Acting and working as a father means having your daughters snatched up by one of those guys one day,” he insisted. Willem had never looked at his surroundings with that in mind, so all the guys he knew on Regule Aire had green skin or pigs’ faces or were covered in scales. No, wait. Maybe a preoccupation with appearances and differences in races was a sensibility five hundred years outdated. In fact, there were plenty of good guys if he went by personality alone. To test himself, he imagined a scenario. One day, Chtholly, for example, suddenly announces, “I am in a serious relationship,” and brings home a nice young boggard. Could he bless them with a smile in the end if that happened? “Gyah?!” “…Oh, I’m sorry. Felt just a little bloodthirsty there.” “Th-that wasn’t just ‘a little’!! I just saw my grandmother beckoning me from beyond the River of the Dead!! What in the world was that?!” “Well, I was just thinking how Glick and those guys don’t look it but are actually good guys, and I just, y’know.” “There’s a limit to how incoherent you can be, you know!!” He suddenly turned to look out the window. It was a nice, clear night. “I’m going out. If you have anything more to say, save it for later.” “Hey, where are you going?” “Probably look at the stars. Oh, and I’m taking this key with me.” He waved his hand lazily and left the room. “Huh? What? Wait, how did you—?!” He pretended not to hear the screams behind him. He pulled Seniorious out of storage. There was a small hill on the outskirts of Island No. 68. The wind was calm, the air was clear, and the light from the stars soft. It was a convenient night. Willem pulled off the cloth covering Seniorious and exposed the blade to the wind. He let a bit of venenum flow into it. His temples ached slightly but not enough to worry over. Fwoom. Seniorious emitted a soft light. “—Initialize adjustment.” He murmured and touched one of the metal fragments near the center. There was a quiet thunk. The fragment parted from the blade on its own, glided across the air, and stopped in place about five paces from Willem. There came a clear metallic sound, like a metallophone being struck. He touched another piece. That, too, glided across the air and stopped a ways away. A clear sound echoed in a pitch slightly different from the one before it. Another one. And another one. The most ancient holy sword of Seniorious was comprised of a total of forty-one pieces and held together by veins of enchantment. By directly manipulating those veins, he could take the blade apart like this and expose each component individually. Finally, all that was left near Willem was a small fragment of crystal which had been hidden inside the blade. Surrounding it were forty-one fragments emitting faint, starlike light. “All right…” He brushed his hand against the crystal and began assessing what sort of state Seniorious was in. Its anti-poison and anti-curse resistance effects were higher than normal. On the other hand, its anti-confusion and anti-dragonsight effects had almost completely worn out. It also worried him how high the anti-demirace slayer levels were. This all must have been due to how long it’d been fighting without adjustment, influenced by battlefield stimuli and the users’ habits. Next, he checked every parameter. It was actually in terrible shape. Due to how long they’d been handling it by forcing venenum through the hilt, all sorts of functions were out of order. There was a large venenum blockage in the spinal root—five knots of all sizes on either side. Three of the veins around that area had been completely cut off, and the rest of the veins themselves had become impaired and, on average, 30 percent less effective. “You’ve done well, too, fighting like this all this time.” A bitter laugh escaped his lips. He lightly struck the crystal with the tip of his finger. He sent off a bit of venenum into it. The venenum lit a vein that had been invisible before, and it pulled in one of the metal fragments. Again came the metallic sound. He sent off a different sort of venenum. A different vein glowed, and a different fragment played a note. Another. And another. The lights danced one after the other. The sound leaped together. The once sleeping veins of enchantment had been reinforced. The exhausted metal fragments filled with energy again. —Willem felt a presence behind him. “Hey. Welcome back, runaway,” he called out without bothering to turn around. “…What…are you doing?” Without any sort of greeting, the intruder at his rear reprimanded him. “Can’t you tell? Maintenance for your partner.” “Hey. You can’t just do this without permission from its compatible user.” “It’s my responsibility to manage the place. Giving myself permission should be enough.” He cackled. “That laugh doesn’t suit you.” “Hmm, you think?” “I like that softer laugh you always make better.” “Hmm…I—I see.” Willem had mentioned that he was aware the girls adored him. He had simply snubbed their feelings with rationalization, acting like he didn’t really care. And yet, in just that moment, his heart skipped a beat. “Come on. Keep playing.” “Playing?” “You were making some nice music, weren’t you? The melody was all over the place, though.” “I wasn’t performing or anything.” “Then just busk. I don’t have any money, though.” “…Man, I’ve got a weird audience now.” He returned his attention to the nearby crystal. Chtholly sat behind Willem, her back facing his. Gooong, gooong—the clear sound once again echoed through the nighttime hills. “What is this light?” “Each Carillon is like a little microcosm, made up of a collection of many kinds of talismans, tied together with veins of enchantment, and sealed into the shape of a sword. You know what talismans are, right?” “I’ve heard of them.” In the current era, talismans were considered curios and ancient treasures, the detailed manufacturing methods having been lost. They were powerful effects of spells and talents engraved onto small pieces of paper, ceramic, or even metal. Those holding those pieces of paper or ceramic or metal benefited from the spell engraved on that small thing. Even now, they were salvaged from the surface once in a while, and so they commonly circulated within the wealthier circles in Regule Aire. “The one floating in front of you is a talisman to keep your tongue from burning when you drink something hot.” “…Huh?” “Beside it is one for knowing which way is north in a place you visit for the first time. The one above that prevents nightmares while you’re sick. And then from there, there’s one to make you good at imitating a cat’s meow, one to make sure you don’t cut your nails too closely with a blade without venenum, and one to make heads appear sixty percent of the time when you flip a coin.” “Wait, hold on. This is Seniorious, right? The legendary weapon? Not a top hundred list of the greatest good luck items, right?” “It happens with food sometimes. There are some combinations where, if eaten separately, they’re fine, but if you eat them all one after the other, they’ll make you sick. This was made along the same line of thought. Put talismans in a bunch and thread them together with veins of enchantment, then after complicated, mysterious interactions with one another, they start producing completely different effects. I don’t know the details since I’m not a specialist, but that’s what the guys at the Central Workshop said. “Seniorious, especially, is one of the very oldest Carillons. Unlike the ones produced later at the workshop, I heard it was born on the battlefield as a result of a miraculous coincidence. That’s why it uses so many talismans that just seem like makeshift parts.” “…Uh-huh…” Chtholly whipped her head around, looking at all forty-one talismans, forty-one small wishes. “I didn’t know that. It’s a legendary holy sword, so I thought it was brought into existence as a gift from the gods or something like that.” “Yeah, it’s too bad.” The emnetwiht at the time needed them to survive. They used anything they could to accomplish that. War was an ugly reality. And yet, they yearned for beauty… That’s why they called the symbol of the power they finally achieved the Carillon—the holy swords. “I see. I get it.” The girl fell silent. He continued working. The metallic lights and sounds gently enveloped the silent pair. “I just had a talk with the first officer before this,” Chtholly said quietly, beginning her monologue. “He said that if I didn’t feel like it before the day comes, then I don’t have to open the gates to the faerie home. He said I could risk the fate of Island No. 15 based on the potential of my resolve and strength.” “…I see.” “Could I really get stronger?” “I will make you stronger, even if you don’t want to. That’s my responsibility as a manager.” “That’s what I thought you’d say.” Her back twitched in a chuckle. “Then I shall take you up on your kind offer and tell you something. I doooon’t wanna get any stronger!” “Wait. Isn’t this the part where you’re supposed to realize you’ve been so surrounded by love all this time and start being honest with your feelings while breaking into tears?” “…I am being honest. Realize that, idiot.” He pretended not to hear her muttering. Now he saw how he’d become the kind of guy he’d heard about earlier, one who’d “hide it.” The feeling of guilt was way worse than he’d initially imagined. “—Right. Then how about if you come back alive from the fight, I promise to grant you one request. Let’s start with that.” “Huh?” For a second, she gave a shocked response. “I…I don’t really want you to do anything for me. And I mean, you say anything, but I know you won’t do anything major. Like, if I told you to marry me—” “No thanks.” He interrupted, cutting her short. “…I’m not disappointed or anything, but I just want to hear your reasons. Why?” “’Cause it’s just not in the realm of possibility for me. Like it would be impossible if you asked me to bring back the dead or wipe out all the Beasts.” “What? You’re saying that’s on the same level as all of those things?” “Sure is.” It was normal for children of a certain age to grow infatuated with an older, reliable member of the opposite sex close by. It certainly might qualify as a sort of romance, but it was also like a temporary fever, brought on by a lack of options. Therefore, it was also the natural duty of the adult to put some distance between them and watch over the child until that fever died down. “At the very least, y’know, try again when you’ve grown up a bit.” “This wouldn’t be so hard if I had—!” Time—he cut off what would have been her last word. “You do have time.” Chtholly gulped. “That’s something you will fight to earn. Right?” “…I don’t know if it’ll work out like that.” “That’s why you head out with a reason why you can’t die, so you can know. Know what I mean? You might complain, but I heard that soldiers with fiancées waiting for them at home had higher survival rates. I’ve honestly seen some guys with enough spirit to keep living by drinking mud.” “My chance to have a fiancé was just shattered a couple of seconds ago, though.” He could feel her clammy stare. “Oh, well, you know. You can’t go for it if it’s a future that’s too unrealistic. I’m saying you need to find yourself a dream that’s more grounded.” “I think what you’re saying is outrageous. If you’re trying to make me fight for an ideal, then you can’t make me think about reality.” “…That was smart.” Willem could only manage a dry laugh. Head out with a reason why you can’t die—of course, those weren’t Willem’s words. He was just borrowing someone else’s, and after he’d been told that, he’d ended up resorting to a suicide attack, never returning to the place he was meant to. Though she probably hadn’t seen through all of that, she’d noticed how shallow his words were or something to that effect. “I’m smart, so stop treating me like a child.” “Nah, I can’t.” “Why is it that’s the only thing you’re so stubborn about? Sheesh.” In a strangely mature manner, Chtholly exhaled. “…Sweets.” “Hmm?” “You made something in the dining hall several days ago. Do you know any other recipes?” “Oh, well, several.” “Then can you make butter cake?” Hah. “Of all things, huh?” “Huh?” “Nope, it’s nothing.” It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected it. He sort of felt like that was where the conversation was headed. “I know how to make it. My master forced me to learn. Someone close by could make it way better than me, though, so I’ve never really baked it myself.” “As long as you can make it, that’s fine. Whenever one of the older girls came home from a fight, she would always wolf down and savor the butter cake. But by the time I was old enough to hold a sword, it was already off the dessert menu, and I could never do the same. So please.” He inhaled deeply. He held his breath, then exhaled. “Guess I don’t have much of a choice.” Willem resumed the work at hand. He finished adjusting Seniorious. He reset all the resistance levels, leaving only curse resistance slightly higher. It was probably a safe enough guess that Chtholly wouldn’t be fighting other demiraces, so he reset all the slayer levels to default. By doing so, the stabilization of basic functions spread throughout all the veins capable of taking it. He flicked the crystal fragment with the tip of his finger. The metal pieces that floated around them glided through the air, one by one, gathering around the crystal. When one returned to its original spot, a quiet strum echoed. Once the short performance was over, the single large blade had finally regained its shape. The heavy weight was profound in Willem’s hands. “All right, all right. Okay. I’ll make you eat so much cake, you’ll get heartburn. You understand, yeah? So you have to come back.” He handed Seniorious over to the correct false owner. “Leave it to me,” the girl said and smiled. 5. Even When That War Ends They wore informal armor over their military uniforms. Awkwardly large swords had been strapped to their backs. All three girls were finished preparing for battle. “All righty, then, we’ll be back!” Ithea waved with her usual smile. “…Mm.” Nephren nodded slightly. It was only Chtholly who did not turn back. She didn’t say anything. The silver brooch on her uniform breast glinted dully, as though speaking. And so the three faeries flew off. Their figures melted into the sunset. “…Dude, are you an idiot?!” That was the first thing Glick said after hearing the story. “Why’d you come all the way here? Just to eat with me?!” “Why? I just told you. I’m giving you my status report and my thanks.” “You could do that literally any other time! Don’t you understand that now is called now because now only exists now?!” “…I mean, do you even understand what you’re saying?” “I don’t care about me! We’re talking about you! YOU!!” Well, that was true. Slightly perplexed by his boggard friend’s unexpected indignation, Willem tilted his cup of salty coffee. “My head’s already full knowing there’ve been victims and drama behind Regule Aire’s shadow of peace, damn it. I mean, even if I didn’t know, it’s the Guard’s job to spill blood, and the more I think about it, it should be a given, but imagining it and actually hearing about it are way different. I feel like I’m gonna be crushed by the sinfulness of not knowing, and I want to go give those kids a hug right now—and what is up with that scary face of yours?” “Nothing.” While on the receiving end of a fierce look that would certainly bring timid children to tears, Willem emptied his cup. Glick heaved a heavy sigh. “I heard it was light and easy work, so I offered it to you. Whether that was a good idea or not in the end, just thinking about what would’ve happened if I hadn’t thought much of it and just gave it to some other guy makes me scared.” He threw back his coffee. “…And. Why are you here?” “Dunno what to say, but they’re fighting tomorrow on Island No. 15 and will be for days. We’re not gonna get any correspondence until much later. There’s not a lot I can do right now.” “That’s not what I mean! This is usually the part where you’re so worried your food won’t go down your throat and you can’t sleep at night! So why are you so set on passing time like nothing’s happening?!” “Worrying about it now isn’t gonna change their chances of victory. I’ve told them all I could up till yesterday, and I’ve adjusted their swords best I could. But still, their chances of safely winning is only a little more than half. If I let myself start worrying, I don’t think my body could handle it.” “Come on, something’s wrong here. You’re not supposed to doubt their victory!” “It goes against my principles to look away from reality.” “I’m saying, you’re not supposed to look away from hope and dreams! A believing heart might have some mysterious power, y’know!” “Everyone struggles because it doesn’t. You can’t return to reality when something unexpected happens if you desperately convince yourself it does. I need to be able to accept whatever happens to them, especially since I do believe in them.” “You wet blanket! Where’s the fiery passion in your words?!” “Guess I’m not the kind of person meant for a life of salvaging.” Willem cackled and stood from his seat. “What? You got something to do?” “Yeah, just need to pick up some ingredients.” “Come on… You really serious about living life like nothing’s going on?” “Absolutely. There are girls out there fighting for this life.” Glick fell silent. With a word of parting, Willem rose from his chair, but “…Oh, right.” He recalled he had one thing to ask and stopped. “Hey. You know where I can get butter and flour for cheap around here?” Then, Willem returned to Orlandry Alliance Warehouse No. 4. “Willie!!” The girls, who had been chasing a ball in the field, noticed him and all trotted over. “Where were you? We were looking for you.” “Um, um, would you mind playing with us? It’s been a while.” “We haven’t heard from you lately, since you’ve been injured and whatnot. So I won’t punish you if you play with us today.” They tugged on his sleeves. But— “Sorry. I’ve got something I need to do today.” “Awww,” came cries of objection. “Next time.” Leaving the complaints behind him, he headed straight for the kitchen. He flipped through all the recipes for easy desserts popular with small children in his head. He found the page for butter cake. He’d never managed this successfully at the orphanage (since his attempts were always compared to his daughter’s), so the details were fuzzy. But he’d manage somehow. He had time to practice. And he was sure that just a tablespoon of love could change the flavor drastically. Suddenly. From somewhere. He thought he heard a voice. “…Almaria?” He turned around, looked up at the sky. Of course, no one was there. Beyond the crimson-and-vermilion gradient spread of silklike clouds… The owner of that voice no longer existed in this world. She’d left without ever welcoming home the one for whom she’d been waiting, waiting and baking butter cakes at the orphanage. He never returned. “I’m sorry.” He felt like he was doing something terrible. It wasn’t just to Almaria. He apologized to the companions he’d fought alongside then, too. And to the members of the royal family who’d seen them off with such high expectations. Why couldn’t he have died with her and the others? Moreover, why hadn’t he ended his life as soon as he woke up in this world? Wasn’t living as he was now betraying all the promises he’d once made? And yet. He knew all of this, but now— “I’m so, so sorry.” He bowed his head to the heavens. There was no home for him in this world. But if there was someone out there who would be his home… Then he would stay so they could welcome him back. His decision settling in his heart, he reached for his apron.
Chapter 6
51 min read