WorldEnd: What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us?, Vol. 1

by Akira Kareno

  “…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 strug
gles 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.

  Before This World EndsB

  -promise/result-

  In the dark of night.

  A lone Beast howled in the center of the gray expanse.

  Its voice did not resonate the air to make what we would call sound.

  And of course, not a single living being existed within the range of its call.

  So there was nothing to hear or understand the Beast’s—Chanteur, the First Beast Who Laments for the Moon’s—voice.

  Still, the Beast continued to howl. A meaningless sound, which would never reach a soul, without fatigue or despair, or even an understanding of those concepts—forever.

  By the way, this gray land might all have seemed the same when viewed from above in Regule Aire, but to actually go down onto the surface would surprisingly show how richly the contours of the land had been preserved. Rolling sand dunes where hills once sat. Gray peaks where steep mountains once stood. Ruins that held remnants of what had once been stone buildings standing in place. That was why the salvagers could weave through these remnants, searching for traces of a long-lost civilization.

  Now, let us talk about what sat at the feet of the howling Beast.

  A small town had stood there a little over five hundred years ago.

  It had been neither particularly prosperous, nor did it have any sort of industry for which it was known, but it had a long, respectable history. From the cobbled streets to the trees lining them to the theater to the commuter cart stops to the cheap apartments—they all held a certain dignity, as though embodying a pride from having stood there for centuries.

  On the outskirts of town once sat a small orphanage. It had been converted from what was once an ages-old nursery school, so this building, too, had held the air of a long and storied history. In other words, it had been shabby. Whenever it rained, whenever the wind blew, those who’d lived there ran around with boards and hammers.

  About three thousand people had lived in the town.

  The orphanage had boasted only twenty.

  That had been 526 years ago. The scenery of that time now only exists in a certain someone’s memory.

  And now.

  The Beast was howling.

  It continued to utter an aimless cry.

  Let me spoil something for you.

  Once, in the age of the elven elders, it was said members of their community could communicate through their spirits without vibrating the air. What the Beast was doing was very similar to that. A sort of telepathic communication that only those of the same race, of similar mind, could receive.

  And each of the Seventeen Beasts were of different races. Chanteur’s words could only reach Chanteur.

  Chanteur was the only one of its kind. A being so infinitely close to coming to an end in a single body. A search far and wide across the world would never produce anything it could call kin.

  That was why there was no destination for this Beast’s voice.

  No one could hear this Beast’s wail.

  That was all it has done since first appearing in this world, and the Beast would continue to sing its silent cry.

  The voice of the kinless Beast.

  It reached no one. It resonated with no one.

  It simply vanished into the gray wasteland.

  Afterword

  Or Rather, Behind the Scenes

  Greetings, everyone. I’m a new author, Akira Kareno.

  I’m sorry. I’m partially kidding. I’m not that new, but this is my first time publishing a book with Sneaker Bunko. I’m glad to meet you through this new series.

  For those who start reading from the afterword: The culprit was the master. He did it with an icicle. Just kidding.

  The title of this work is WorldEnd: What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us? (I’m a little late, but wow, that’s long!), but by the end of this first book, no one has really been saved yet. The main character is a bit delicate, so there are no battle-like battles. That’s a real spoiler.

  In the corner of a dying world, little survivors who wish to live for just a little longer lead desperate, do-or-die, comfortable, lazy, declining lives. Does salvation really exist for them? If it does, what does it look like?

  That’s the sort of feel I want to evoke with this story, and I hope to put out the second volume soon. As of now, I can’t promise anything after that (I am thankful for your support!), but I hope I can go as far as possible.

  I had the help of many people while this book was being completed.

  ue-san, who gave expression to the faeries through warm il
lustrations as the schedule picked up speed like a runaway train. Editor G-san, who managed that schedule. My friends, who kept saying, “You need to write sometimes!” The neighborhood cats that soothed my soul in the middle of carnage.

  And of course, all of you who are reading this right now.

  Thank you so much. I hope you will stick with me.

  The next volume is entirely action. A giant intercontinental ballistic robot created by the combination of the double ties of love and hatred mows down a swarm of space monsters. Just kidding.

  Summer 2014

  AKIRA KARENO

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