Located underground in the deepest and most secure part of the Base—in other words, where I had connected the Akashic Record to the world—was the place where the Song of the End was sealed away. It was the most spacious room in all of the Base, roughly the size of the Spiritual Church convent’s courtyard. It contained not a single piece of furnishing, being almost entirely empty save for a magic circle drawn in the far back in white alchemical paint. Kneeling on the magic circle and standing right before it were two people Maha recognized.
“You’ve come.” With her massive blade resting on her shoulder, Ney turned around and greeted Maha. Past her, Ruri was kneeled on the magic circle with her eyes closed and her hands clasped together.
“Give Ruri back,” Maha demanded. She came fully equipped for a battle—a war even. There were more vials than usual on her hip, and she brought a backup dagger for good measure. Her clothes were no different than her usual combat wear, but Diriyah had used her alchemy to make it extra cut-resistant.
“Oh? You’ve come to take her back, not save the world? Is she more important to you than the world?” Ney teased.
“Cut it out. I’m not here to play games.”
“I take it you haven’t come to try and persuade me either then?”
“No, I’ll make you see reason one way or another. But before we start, tell me one thing: why do you want to end the world?” This was the thing that had bothered Maha the most since Ney’s betrayal. Ending the world was something the demons were after. As a former human, Ney should want anything but that.
“When you live as long as I, there are many things you come to learn. Things both good and bad.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I shall get there, dear. You’ve always been too eager to get to the conclusion. Didn’t I tell you some things can’t be understood unless you break them down piece by piece?”
“…Go ahead then.” Maha urged Ney to continue as she warily scanned the room, then Ney and Ruri.
“At first blush, it might seem as though the values of demons are incompatible with those of humans. But over time, I’ve come to think their belief system is the truly correct one.”
“Impossible.”
“There you go again, rushing to conclusions.” Ney smiled wryly. “I’ve had many worries since I gained the power of a god. I’ve faced all of them as sincerely as I can, and I’ve solved many, but there’s one thing I can do nothing about. Not even my great power is of any aid… This never-ending war. Poverty. Hunger. Disease. I’ve borne witness to too much suffering to name and have realized that no matter what star one is born under, one cannot avoid suffering in life. Though the suffering one experiences may vary, no life can ever be without suffering.”
“…Why?”
“Happiness and suffering are relative concepts. One defines the other. Put another way, without happiness there is no suffering, and without suffering there is no happiness. A life of only happiness is a logical impossibility.”
Just as “left” presupposes the existence of “right,” for happiness to exist, so too must suffering.
Ney continued. “But despite the guarantee of suffering, people continue to bring new life into this world. To that, I ask ‘why?’ It was once said ‘tis because what is in store for a life is unknown, so we must bring our children into this world for it to be known—but is that not the same as gambling with their lives? We cannot know if our children will come to deem their lives good or bad. Who are we to roll the dice and make that gamble for them when they will have to bear any debt incurred?”
Ney was essentially saying creating life could be seen as an act of harm due to the fact that one could not know if the born would have wished to live.
“So what are you suggesting people do then?” Maha asked.
“Not bring life into this world to begin with. The never-was cannot know suffering. ‘Tis the most simple and ideal solution there is. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“No. One can’t know happiness either if they’re never born.”
“An absence of happiness is only a problem for the living; the unborn cannot be inconvenienced by the same. Or do you believe people should be born precisely because they’re deprived of happiness before existence? Does that make sense to you?”
“Well…” Maha faltered. She wanted to argue against what Ney was saying, but she couldn’t find any counter to her logic. It didn’t help that Maha even found herself swayed a little bit by Ney’s words, as she had previously wished she wasn’t alive herself.
“Once logically thought out, ‘tis clear that life isn’t to be desired. Better to never be born to begin with. Rather than cling to what happiness one has to forget the suffering, it is better to become nothing and do away with suffering altogether. And the Song of the End can make that possible.”
“I thought the Song of the End was a spell to bring ruin to the world.”
“No. Human beings named and decided what the Song of the End did on their own. The spell’s true purpose is to return everything to oblivion.”
“…It’s the same thing.”
“To you humans, perhaps. But ‘tis all the difference to me. You’ve wished yourself you were never born, haven’t you? Returning everything to nothingness will grant just that.”
“Only you believe that,” Maha said coldly. “You’ve grown twisted from living too long.”
Ney just smiled and said, “That’s not true. Ruri understands me. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“…Yes.” Ruri nodded from behind Ney. She opened her eyes. None of the cheerfulness they once held could be seen. Instead, her eyes only held a deep despair.
“Ruri, come back to your senses,” Maha pleaded. “There’s no way you could agree with Ney.”
“Miss Maha. I have my senses. I just… I had no idea this world was so sad…” She made a pained look as she muttered her words out. She claimed to be of sound mind, but no matter how you cut it, she seemed to be under some kind of mental control.
“Ney… What have you done to Ruri?” Maha questioned.
“Nothing, really. Nothing except show her the constant cries of grief echoing all around the world.” A dangerous glint filled Ney’s eyes. “Shall I show you as well? All the suffering I’ve witnessed thus far?”
“Wha—”
In an instant, Ney connected to Maha’s heart, and a torrent of emotions flooded in. Maha felt the lived misfortune of countless others as though they were her own, experiencing everything with all five senses.
She felt the hunger of a man from an impoverished nation who cried as he ate the body of a friend who had starved to death; the agony of a woman whose leg was blown off by magic, leaving her to writhe in pain unable to receive proper care on the battlefield; the despair of a girl whose body was sold to strangers by her own parents; and the suffering of myriad more.