After King of Plagues’s Defeat, Kingdom of Altar, Ajani County
Mahr first heard of King of Plagues’s defeat from Arcal, then from the workers in the offices where he was currently staying.
With that, he understood that black mist—the professional killer—who had accepted his request had actually done what To’ori could not and defeated King of Plagues. The people here told Mahr that although Masters couldn’t die, the crimes King of Plagues had committed were so serious that he would never leave the gaol.
With the incident finally in the past, Altar was overcome by relief.
But now that it was all over, Mahr was left with absolutely nothing.
He’d lost his homeland, his family, his friends, and now even the person responsible for all of that loss was gone.
Recent examinations of Mahem’s lands proved that the bacteria were on the decline and that it would soon be a place where people could live again, but that didn’t mean anyone had survived.
The people that made up Mahr’s life—those he had any ties to—were all dead.
In silence, Mahr looked back upon those days that would never return, his eyes fixed in the direction of Mahem. The office workers had already tried talking to Mahr about his life from now on, and the town had a state-sponsored orphanage that had asked if he would like to live there. The suggestion was made out of kindness on their part, and it was probably the best path Mahr could have taken, but Mahr just couldn’t see it that way.
Altar was still Altar. It wasn’t the homeland in which he’d lived his entire life so far.
The fact that the homeland was all but eradicated didn’t change that.
The office workers concluded that the boy just needed time to think, and so they let him stay as long as he needed.
However, Mahr was planning to leave this place soon. He had no means of surviving on his own and would probably die, but he didn’t feel that it would be a particularly unfortunate outcome. In fact, he was gradually feeling less and less of anything, becoming more hollow as time passed.
Even when Arcal or the people in Altar’s government offices told him that King of Plagues was defeated, Mahr didn’t feel anything that resembled happiness. It made the burden on him a little lighter, but he did not get any positive emotion out of the news.
Mahr didn’t even feel sadness or rage anymore, let alone joy. The moment he’d asked the hit man to kill King of Plagues might’ve been the last time he’d felt any kind of intense emotion whatsoever.
Now, with a hollow heart, he merely stared in Mahem’s direction from dawn until dusk.
But as he was doing exactly that, Mahr thought he saw something strange in the sky—a distortion in the air, so vague it would likely vanish if he glanced away.
This strange object that his eyes captured by pure chance seemed to have the shape of a creature. If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, it looked like a translucent dragon, swimming through the sky.
“It has been long indeed since the eyes of mankind have caught my reflection.” A moment after Mahr saw that hazy dragon, he heard an unfamiliar voice by his side.
Silently and showing little surprise, the boy looked toward its source. This was the second time something like this happened in a short while. It couldn’t shock him any longer. His heart and mind had become too lifeless for that.
What Mahr saw looked like a miniaturized version of the dragon he’d seen in the sky. He couldn’t tell dragons apart by their faces, but he felt as though this one was somewhat similar to the dragon he already knew—Arcal.
“This reflection is woven from spirit and nature’s lingering magic. To witness it is a sign that your heart is profoundly hollow—that you are attached to nothing. There is not a single thing that concerns you now—even the question of your own life or death is a distant thing. Am I wrong?”
Mahr said nothing and didn’t even nod in response, but he did feel that the dragon was right.
“Hmm,” the dragon said. “So this is more than a state of mind.”
The transparent dragon gazed into Mahr’s eyes. It was no doubt an unsettling scene, but the boy wasn’t scared in the least.
“Keh heh heh...how unusual indeed. You even have the talent. You carry what it takes to inherit the throne of the lost Superior Job that has stood vacant since the pre-ancient times.”
“Hm...?” Mahr finally spoke.
“Had you not suffered a tragedy such as this, you would have died without this potential ever coming into bloom.” Mahr understood the spectral dragon’s words, but the deeper meaning was lost on him.
It almost seemed as though it was saying that Mahr was...special.
“Young Mahr.” The dragon spoke the boy’s name easily, as though he already knew everything about him. “You are special.” The creature clearly affirmed the very thing that Mahr had assumed was a misapprehension. “Were you to train with me, you would soon—at least in terms of the outside world’s time—become a being of great power. You would be someone truly special, just like The Hero himself.”
Silence.
“Shall I take you under my wing?” the dragon asked.
To become special, just like The Hero To’ori Kusanagi—this used to be one of Mahr’s greatest desires. He’d dreamed of being someone truly special and living out amazing adventures.
Back then, he would’ve immediately agreed to all of this, but there were things he’d come to understand since those days. He now knew that being special didn’t stop To’ori from feeling exactly the same way, and Mahr had realized with painful clarity that the adventures he’d envisioned were nothing but catastrophes for most everyone involved.
Mahr no longer wanted anything special. What he wanted—what his nearly hollow heart wished for—were those simple days that would never come back.