The next day, Maha went out into town, which was situated toward the border of the continent. It had been a research hub with academies dedicated to studying alchemy before the demons appeared, but now it stood on the front lines of the war against them. Not even a shadow remained of what it once was like. The people’s expressions were grim. To live here, in these times, was a struggle.
The town was mostly carved out of stone like the Base, except for some buildings that were made out of brick. Unlike the Base, however, the people of the town cared for appearances and embellished their stone and brick with reliefs here and there, giving the town a sense of beauty that the cold and practical Base lacked.
Maha ran through the town with no particular destination in mind. As part of her training, she ran ten kilometers every morning, always traversing the same path.
The slums came into sight not long after leaving the Base. The town as a whole was by no means well off, but the people here were particularly down on their luck and public safety was at its worst. Normally, it would be a poor place to cross through, but most of the men had already died fighting demons, leaving mainly women and children in the slums. Maha was well-known for being a powerful alchemist, so most people left her alone. Only a few idiots hoping to make a name for themselves ever tried to pick fights with her.
Everyone’s got it rough, she thought, confirming the obvious as she jogged through the slum. There were a few buildings that, though weathered, still held shape, but many seemed only just barely able to withstand the elements, and some seemed not even capable of that.
“I’m sure Ney’s reminded you countless times already, but don’t stop for the beggars.”
“I know.”
Beggars weakly pleaded for money on the edges of the road. Some were covered in bandages, and there were even children among them. Though she was hesitant, Maha didn’t stop.
A line of people waiting for food came into sight next. A religious organization called the Spiritual Church ran this soup kitchen as an act of charity, and most of those living in the slums relied on it to survive. Today, a salt-based soup with meat dumplings was being served. It was a basic meal, the meat likely only junk scraps from a butcher, but it was a godsend to the people of the slum. The line of hungry people stretched far.
“People supposedly used to eat for pleasure in the past.”
“But now everyone has their hands full just surviving.”
Alchemists could synthesize food as long as they had materials to use, but materials were by no means free. To create something with nutritional value, you need materials of nutritional value. The principle of equivalent exchange was one of the fundamentals of alchemy. Though some thought alchemy to be all-powerful, in truth, it was far from it.
“Maha, I know I’ve said this before, but you should really consider changing your running route.”
“Why?”
“For your own mental wellbeing. This area isn’t good for you.” Maha was a soldier. Her heart was weary enough just fighting all day. I saw no reason why she should burden herself further by seeing all this.
“No. I’m fine with this route.”
“Why?”
“Because. I get to remind myself.”
I didn’t bother asking what she meant. I already knew. She needed to tell herself she wasn’t the only one suffering. She needed daily proof that the lives of the people here were just as bad, if not worse, than her own life of constant fighting.
“Can you not go on if you don’t?”
She didn’t answer. But her silence alone said it all.
Neither of us spoke for a time. Only the rhythm of her breathing filled the void.
Maha did not particularly like running, but she didn’t hate it either. That same sentiment extended to training in general. Her training was the only time she didn’t feel tortured by her thoughts. She didn’t like thinking about the more difficult aspects of her life, though she certainly wasn’t stupid. On the contrary, it was her intellect that made her overthink too much. That’s why she liked being able to turn her mind off and just run without worrying about what was behind her. In a way, she lived her whole life like that.
I felt sorry for her. She had no choice but to live this way and had nobody who could tell her why such a way of living was so wrong.
“You should share your worries with others more, Maha.”
“…Trying once was enough.”
“Are you still hung up over what happened with Ney?”
“It was unnecessary. I shouldn’t have.”
“I wouldn’t say that. She understands your circumstances and can sympathize. Maha, you’re still only—”
“Be quiet for a bit. I want to focus on running.”
I obliged and stopped talking. But, really, I wanted to ask her: Do you still wish you weren’t born? It seemed to me she was running from such questions, though.