“These are the original models that gave birth to the universes.”
Their voices compelled him to look behind them. He did so, looking out towards the horizon. There were shadows! Shadows! Shadows! as far as he could see. These were not simple figures like the ones he’d seen so far. They had different clothes. Different genders. Their shadows flickered in the corner of his eye. And within them, they had billions of beings. Each of the shadows had ghosts within them, just like Akuto.
“Are they all like me?” he asked, and the outer gods disappeared without answering. The people, or universes, that he’d glimpsed vanished as well. Only Boichiro and Akuto remained at the table.
“They’re probably the same as us.”
They sat in shocked silence for a while, but eventually Boichiro was the first to speak.
“They, and you, are universes. God Universes, I guess you could call them. No, you could say that until you unleashed the possibilities of the world, you alone were like them.”
Boichiro pointed at Akuto, Akuto let out a long sigh and nodded.
“The birth of a universe is like the birth of a story. If a universe is a collection of stories, there could be any number of beings on the outside that are like us.”
“Which means there should be a spectrum,” Boichiro said, suddenly sure of himself.
“A spectrum? Of what?” Akuto asked. And the outer gods responded.
“A spectrum. In other words, they can be divided into levels. Levels of ‘story density’, you could call it. Each of them has been turned into a story at different levels. That’s one way to think of it, anyway.”
“And our level of storification is strong?”
“We realize our world is fictional. So it must be strong. Don’t you think?”
Boichiro’s words made Akuto remember something. Those stories which seemed under the outer gods’ influence seemed to be those where the world’s fictional nature could not be realized. These stories were always those of people who’d only been incarnated once.
“After looking outside, only now do I feel like I understand myself.” Akuto nodded.
“But in the end, the outer gods themselves are fictional. They just can’t tell the difference between gods, humanity, and ghosts themselves. Only when a higher being tells you, and your universe is walled off, can you clearly understand what’s a god, what’s a human, and what’s a ghost. You understand who they are inside.”
Akuto thought to himself as he listened to Boichiro’s analysis.
“Now... that means we have to think of what we say to our own higher power in answer. I want to save not just what’s inside me, but everything in the Law of Identity’s universe. I want to free them from their stories. That is my wish,” Akuto said. Now it was Boichiro’s turn to think.
“...We’ll just have to assume that stories are viruses. Originally, when living creatures were born from the anti-gravity universe, they should have been considered complete. No matter how complex a creature’s cells become, and how complex their reflexes, creatures consume, kill, and give birth. That’s all. There’s no sin or forgiveness there. There can’t be.”
“But the outer gods brought the idea of an unreasonable death into me. Their story density should be low.”
“Then an unreasonable death is natural. There’s no reason needed for murder. That explains it.”
“But we should still try to avoid meaningless murder.”
“You only say that because the stories tell you that you should. But you said that stories were the greatest murderers of all.”
Boichiro’s words made Akuto pause in thought for a moment, and call someone else. He waved a hand out towards the horizon. A dark-skinned, heavily-built man walked towards them from beyond the horizon.
Marine.
The man who’d once lead the Republic, used the Faceless Power, and battled with Akuto. He was also the one who, through no will of his own, caused the destruction of the world.
“I feel like I’ve been called as a representative of ideology, and I have to say it upsets me.”
Like the other ghosts that had been summoned, Marine opened with a complaint.
“Ghosts are always complaining to me.” Akuto shrugged.
“Because, of course, you killed us. But you’re here before me, unafraid of my condemnation. You deserve credit for that, at least.”
Marine laughed loudly, and sat down in the chair with bold, exaggerated movements.
“If you’re my ghost, then that’s just me praising myself,” Akuto whispered.
“Don’t worry about it. Humans and ghosts are indistinguishable from the outside,” Marine said.
“Yeah. That’s starting to seem to me to be the reason why murder should be avoided. If you’re really someone else, people should have no laws but those of living things.”
“That’s the good part of stories. If you allow others to exist inside you as ghosts, you can love them, and thus avoid consuming and murdering them. Even if that gives you no advantages in reproducing and splitting.”
Marine looked at him as if surprised that it took Akuto this long to understand.
“But I’m looking at you as a manifestation of the bad side of stories. That’s why I’m here.”
Akuto looked back at Marine.
“That can only take us back to the first debate we began with. The nature of a ghost creates others. The ghosts of the Republic citizens were oppressed by the ghosts of the Empire. Pointing out that this oppression was only a fantasy also means throwing away the good side of stories,” Marine responded.
Akuto flinched, as if he’d been caught by a weakness in his argument.
“I see. And I was a man who was willing to throw that good side away.”
“You were a man without love, is what that means.” Marine laughed.
“And that’s my sin?”
Akuto always had a serious look on his face, but now his expression was completely frozen. Marine flashed a natural smile.
“My friend, the answer of the condemned has been given. Isn’t that enough?”
“But, what does that matter? Basically, I’m stuck, unable to break out from within myself. I can’t free everyone, if it’s been decided that I’m carrying a contradiction I can’t solve.”
“Then perhaps I have a solution.”
Suddenly Boichiro spoke.
“First, erase everything but us.”
Akuto didn’t know what to make of that.
“What are you going to do?”
“Just do it.”
There was resolve in Boichiro’s words. So Akuto did as he was told, erasing both Marine and the table. There was silence, as Akuto and Hiroshi sat alone across from each other.
“Will this... do?”
“Yes.”
Hiroshi nodded, and began to speak, as if he was reluctant to say anything.
“Actually, I’d been resolved to do this from the start.”
“Resolved?”
“No, I mean I knew from the start. That it was a problem you wouldn’t be able to solve yourself.”
“That’s rather rude... But yes, I’m afraid you’re right. There’s a reason they called me the Demon King. I’m a weapon. In the end, all I have is logic, not love.”
“You should’ve noticed that when you were alive.” Hiroshi laughed.
Akuto laughed too, this time.
“You’ve got that right.”
“Now, on to the point...” Hiroshi leaned forward.
“Make a world where I’m the hero.”
“Huh?” Akuto was stunned.
“A world where I’m the hero, I said. One with as low a story density as possible.”
“You just want to be the hero? ... No, that doesn’t feel likely.”
“Correct. A world where I’m a normal person. That’s what I want you to make.”
Hiroshi was serious. And that only made Akuto more confused.
“What happens then?”
“I’m going to redo my life, with my memories, in a world which isn’t very story-fied. And there, I’m going to write a story about destroying stories.”
Akuto’s eyes went wide.
“That’s... an unexpected idea.”
“Stories have their good sides... so maybe it’s impossible to get rid of them entirely. But if nothing else, I’ll be able to put an end to your story.”
“In other words, you’re going to write my story... and end it.”
“Yes.”
Akuto wasn’t sure what to think. This was an idea he’d never come up with.
“Is it okay for me to ask you that?”
He couldn’t predict what would happen, but he knew that if it worked, it would put him on a course for a true ending.
“It’s fine. It’s something only I can do, and anyway, killing you is my goal. And by doing that, I can save this world. That’s how it feels to me,” Hiroshi said softly.
Akuto stared him in the eyes for a moment, and then smiled.
“Alright. I’ll rebuild the afterlife then. You want me to strengthen the influence of the outer gods, and return the world to its pre-mana-civilization form, right?”
“That’s right. Maybe sometime in the 1990s?”
“I’ll try it. How it works... is up to you.” Akuto balled up the world in his hands again, and then let it spread out wide.