His father was a taciturn man.
When he closed his eyes and thought back on it, he was able to recall his face immediately. Lacking any excitement, his expression never changed. It was as if all his emotions had faded away. He was a man who sat atop a wheelchair like a statue. Yakagi Kazamitsu.
Whenever he was at home, he would sit in the rocking chair by the veranda, looking up at the horizon beyond the sky through the glass of the window. He was that kind of magician from the Orient.
True to his taciturn nature, he was quiet and didn’t speak much. Because words brought consequences, he was the type who preferred not to open his mouth at all. And even though their family lineage was one of excellent magicians, the relationship between Suimei and his father was not all that different from any normal father and son.
But Suimei hardly had any memories at all of exchanging words with his father in their everyday life. The most his father had ever spoken to him was while he was instructing him in the ways of magicka. Other than that, he was only verbose on rare occasions: demonstrating the mysteries; advocating that a magician should be calm; and just the once at the end, as if recalling a passion he had left behind somewhere, the ideology of the Society and the goals of their leader.
“What I desire is definitely there. That’s why, using the mysteries, I must pursue my possibilities.”
Any stranger would have likely thought it was a childlike aspiration with no grip on reality. And as a child, Suimei had thought the same thing. But his father advocated the Society’s ideology until the very end.
“There was a woman I wanted to protect.”
A woman damned by the curse of ruin. Her sorrow was matched only by the wet, stabbing pain of cold, hard rain. A woman who could bloom in neither shadow nor sunlight. Because of the destiny that she carried with her body, everyone had given up on her as someone who would die miserably. She was a pitiful woman, an unfortunate that people averted their eyes from.
She was always with his father, always sobbing into his arms. He only ever saw her smile from the bottom of her heart just once. Even her smile on the verge of her death was one filled with pity for her husband. Right up until the end, he said he would protect the woman he loved, but when it was all said and done, that was a lie.
“I couldn’t protect... your mother.”
That was what Suimei’s father had said before breathing his last. It was at the end of a fight with an ancient dragon revived in the modern age. Suimei had unleashed a spell to stop the beast, and his father had acted as his shield.
Why did he only say it after all that time? He should have had plenty of opportunities to say it before then. Why had he hidden it away within him? Even before his only son, he’d kept quiet for so long.
When Suimei asked, his father replied: “I didn’t want you to carry the burden. You’re a child born of an unfortunate woman and a foolish man. If I spoke of it, you would undoubtedly pursue the same path I did and have your wish denied to you, just as I did. That’s why I never said anything.”
But then why tell him at the very end? What made him change his mind and utter the curse anyway? What made him release the self-imposed stricture of keeping it absolutely hidden? Now that he was at death’s door, his father was incomparably talkative after all. Not just compared to usual, but far more than even when he’d taught Suimei magicka.
And his father let out a long sigh. Was he mocking his own hidden shame? Or did he perhaps find it amusing that he’d taken to talking up a storm all of a sudden? Either way, what he confessed after that long sigh was truly unlike him.
He had regrets. He didn’t mind that his body was crumbling away as it was, but he didn’t want the dream that he aimed for together with that women—those feelings that they shared together—to be forgotten. Those feelings had never been rewarded, not even in the bitter end. So even if it was ultimately a thorny one painted in grief and anguish, he wanted his one and only son to remember the road they’d walked. To remember that there were a man and woman who’d aimed for a happy dream that they ran toward with all their might once.
But only after all that time, only there and then did he speak of it. What did he expect Suimei to do? There was only one answer he was willing to give. There was no way he would decide anything else. Suimei was also a magician, just like his father. That’s why he’d never forget those words.
“Suimei. For me, who only ever chose magicka, and Shizuma... I don’t have anyone else to pass this down to, so I’m entrusting it to you. Pursue the Society’s ideology. If the principle of the world that the leader desires truly exists in this world, then there isn’t a single person that cannot be saved. That’s why―”
In place of me who couldn’t save her, save the woman who can’t be saved.
And then, with a single sorry, the man who dreamed of a future with a happy family left this world. Without listening to Suimei’s reply, he passed on what he had to pass on, and then truly did become just like a statue. All without ever realizing the dream he imagined as he tranquilly stared out the window, the dream he never stopped wishing for... of being a family that you could find anywhere.
He was selfish. Though he’d forced Suimei down the path of heresy, one fraught with nothing but danger, he preached that happy dream in the end. That’s why it had never come sooner.
That was why Suimei howled at the red dragon who was unleashing its final roar.
“I’ll show you that I can absolutely fulfill your dream! Absolutely!”
But this was all quite some time ago now. The day he’d lost his father and screamed at the tyranny looming over him, what he’d really shouted then was a vow. A vow that he wouldn’t ever reconsider even once. And that’s why he was here now. In this world, there didn’t exist anyone who couldn’t be saved. He walked forward to prove that.
It was a childish, idealistic wish. It had no hold on reality, and there was practically no prospect of it coming true. It was an uncertain desire, like a silhouette within the dark morning mist. But nonetheless, it was his dream. One he was determined to make come true.
Magicka, science... Regardless of the field of study, the wisdom that lay at the end of the struggle to explain all the principles of the world was the Akashic Records. It was a record of the past, the present, the future, and even matters of parallel worlds. If even one future was recorded in it where those who could not be saved were happy, then it was possible to save them. That was the ideology of the Society’s leader, whose goal was a reality where anyone and everyone was happy. If that could be realized, then surely, surely it would prove that the path these two were walking down was not pointless.
That’s why, right here and now, Suimei pledged that vow to himself once more.
“Father, just as you said, those words you left me very well may have been a curse that bound my future. But I am your son, a magician. That’s exactly why I want to try and see what it was you were aiming for. That’s why―”
Just like you, I will go and help those who can’t be saved. Prove that I can save them. Be it in our world or this one.
That declaration, like he was persuading himself, reverberated in his throat. He would never forget it. Closing his eyes, he turned those words into courage. He would save her. He would keep going so that he could save that girl, who, even now, was crying because of her misfortune.
And when he opened his eyes, he could see the foul evil and carnage spread out in the clearing before him. Just looking on the corruption of these beings could make one nauseous. And like a swarm of carrion-eating maggots, they were packed together far beyond what his eyes could see.
It was a strange story, really. It was exactly because he didn’t want to face these things that he’d ranted and raved in the castle. So how ironic was it that he voluntarily chose to face them now?
“Hmph.”
As self-mockery filled his mind, Suimei scoffed and blew it away. And then, recalling what Rajas had said to Lefille, he glared over those in fron
t of him from right to left.
These were likely the subordinates the demon general had brought along. He really did have some nerve to gather so many of them so needlessly. Was it a thousand? Ten? The number didn’t really matter at this point; he wasn’t pleased with the amount either way.
But Suimei took one step, and then another, towards that sea of repulsiveness.
When he approached, the demons seemed to notice him. They rushed in, all striving to be the first to reach him. The Evil God was gunning for this world from the astral plane, and by its support, these grotesque creatures had been granted a grotesque superpower that was not mana, not life force, and not strength from their astral bodies. It was a blackened aura that swirled in and around their hands like raw power.
“Man...”
How stupid. Demons? Cliché evil monsters that hated humans. Something straight out of a fantasy book or game. Why did a modern magician like him have to fight against such silly things? Yes, how stupid. He was pursuing the Society’s ideology and his father’s wish. So why should this boy with such a humble dream have to fight against something like a Demon Lord trying to bring the world to ruin?
That cold, sober portion of his heart assessed the situation with a distant look.
Man, how stupid. There could be nothing dumber.
As he shut both his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh with a tired expression, a demon came rushing at him with its claws clad in black power. Straightforward. Like a wild boar. Without even a feint, as if it knew nothing of the subtleties of battle.
“Evanescito et exito.”
[Vanish and begone.]
With those words, a flash of lightning shot out past the demon’s upper body. It happened in the blink of an eye. The only signs left that anything had happened at all were the pale magicka circle at Suimei’s feet and the hand he casually held out like a blade in front of him. That, of course, and the demon that was blown back with its arm torn to shreds, but Suimei didn’t care at all about that right now.
He suddenly sensed a psychic cold from deep within the hedge of demons, and focused his senses on it. It was a mass of power. Was it supposed to be some kind of cover? Just like the demonic arts used by heathens, the aura the demons unleashed turned into a bolide and shot out from the group of them without hesitation or mercy.
Of course, it was aimed at none other than Suimei. But it was slow. Compared to a HEAT round from a tank cannon, how could something like this possibly be described as fast? Even if he gave it a generous benefit of the doubt, Suimei would easily have time to fire off three separate magickas by the time it reached him.
Without so much as glancing at the incoming meteor, Suimei simply stepped to the side. He let it fly right past him and explode on impact as it collided with something behind him. Yet even that could do nothing against him. If he expanded his golden defensive magicka, not even a fighter jet going at Mach 20 would be able to penetrate it. The rubble from the explosion certainly didn’t stand a chance. He needn’t even pay any mind to the meager blast of heat it sent towards his back. No, what he wanted was ahead of him. He would only look forward.
Even when a demon came flying in from the skies overhead, he refused to yield.
“Volvito.”
[Grovel.]
A single word was all it took. Without even looking at the demon that had tumbled to the ground with that lone word, he charged mana into his right foot and trampled over it as he advanced. How weak and pathetic. It seemed that Suimei had grossly overestimated the threat these things posed. With his knowledge of battle, perhaps this was the only inevitable result. Seeing them now, it was unthinkable that they could ever do him harm. They weren’t even obstacles on his path forward.
So why must he be forced to stoop to fighting these things? How stupid. It was utterly outrageous, but he didn’t stop. He’d already made up his mind.
“I...”
I decided to come here. I decided to walk down this path. I decided it all back then.
Even if he tripped, even if he fell along the way, he’d decided on that fateful day that he would never stop advancing. That he would prove it wasn’t impossible to save those who wanted to be saved. He would attain the Akashic Records, and properly realize his father’s dream—the wish that they both longed for.
Heading into the middle of a demon army was a foolish path, but it was the one he was walking now towards a greater good.
“Archiatius overload.”
With those words, a magicka circle shining brightly like a rainbow expanded around Suimei. At its full diameter, it was about five meters across and was filled with a complex clutter of words and numbers. It released the shackles that were yearned for since time eternal.
Suimei had unleashed his mana. His furnace raged and rotated with a roar like the booming of an internal combustion engine. The explosive shock wave of mana it released spread into the surroundings, even emitted lightning. A strong gale swooped down like a tornado, and the wall of demons was blown up into the heavens by the force of it all.
The air howled and the earth shook. Anything and everything around him not firmly rooted into the ground was hurled upward, smashed to pieces, and reduced to rubble that hung in the skies overhead. The sight of it was awe-inspiring. And just as his rampaging surplus mana began stabilizing, those grotesque beings gushing forth in droves once more came swooping down on him. His furnace was like an explosion that triggered an avalanche. Except in the place of snow, it was their collective pitch black aura that came down on him. They all charged like wild boars, scrambling to get to him first.
Suimei fixed his coat, which had been ruffled in the maelstrom of mana. The demons swarmed around him as far as the eye could see, like there was no end to their numbers. But looking at them trying to block his way, strangely enough, what came back to mind was what his father had said on that day.
“My wish will be denied to me, huh? Ha, bring it on!”
Suimei shook off those words with a laugh. Who cared about some Demon Lord? Even going back to his own world could be set aside for now. All that mattered was protecting that girl, and he wouldn’t let anyone stop him from doing that.
★
“AAAAAAAAAAAH!”
An emotional voice rang out in the clearing. Was it a battle cry? Or was it the sorrowful scream of a woman struggling against despair?
Pouring her violent emotions into her sword, Lefille slashed at the demon general Rajas with a vertical strike. What wrapped that slash, was a deep crimson storm firing out a glimmering red light. The earth, the mountains, the sky, all things large and small, no matter their scale, up until now, it had cut apart anything and everything. However, Rajas stopped the blow by sticking out his arm wrapped in a jet black aura like it was a shield.
The power of the spirits which massacred many monsters and demons was repelled without even touching his skin, let alone cutting into his flesh. It was as if he was telling her with his body, that such a power didn’t even itch him.
“Grrr...!”
“HAHAHA! What’s wrong, swordswoman from Noshias?! Is that all a bastard like you can do?!”
“SHUT UUUUUP!”
When Rajas poured his scorn on her, she screamed as if to strike back at him. What followed was a torrent of red slashes like an early summer storm. Middle, low, rising and falling, back to low and then overhead. She unleashed all kinds of strikes one after another in a violent fury. Rajas’s unusually sturdy fist cloaked in dark miasma countered each blow unerringly.
Webs of red lines and clouds of inky darkness burst forth as their powers collided. Both opponents dug their heels into the ground, and unable to withstand the ferocity of it, the earth broke apart underneath their feet.
Comparing the two side by side, things were slanted in Rajas’s favor. Lefille was at a disadvantage. If she took even a single step back, he would press forward two. If she let fly ten blows, he would throw eleven. No matter what she did, she couldn’t get the edge on him, and her
injuries were adding up.
“HAAA!”
As he drove her back, perhaps having realized his chance, Rajas lunged forward with a big, powerful attack. With her keen sight, Lefille could see that it left him open...
Yet her body wouldn’t respond. Normally, a wide attack like that would give her time to counter with five separate slashes. But her injured body couldn’t even manage one. It took all her might just to lift her sword and use it as a shield as she resigned herself to the fist clad in its dark aura.
The impact drove her backwards a great distance. Anguish from the heavy blow ringing through her entire body leaked from her lips as a grunt.
“U-Ugh...”
Falling to one knee, Lefille gasped for air. Rajas looked down at her with a smirk.
“Heh, this is just a repeat of that time, isn’t it?”
“...A repeat?”
“That’s right. Of back when we attacked the naive land you bastards called home.”
Hearing those words, memories of the day the demons attacked Noshias came flooding back to her. Even now, she could still see it all. What had appeared as she resolutely fought her way through the seemingly endless horde of small fries was Rajas. And wielding a darkness several times more deadly than what she’d seen from any demon, he destroyed everything.
Before that overwhelming power, both then and now, she was also forced to her knees.
She’d never felt more helpless than being unable to do anything as she watched her countrymen be brutally slaughtered right in front of her. And it wasn’t just the once. The day changed, the place changed—she fought many times over until the royal capital fell—but in the end, history only repeated itself. Every time they fought, Rajas would get the better of her and knock her down. Then, meaning to protect her, someone would inevitably sacrifice themselves. Her countrymen and comrades, those important to her... Every time without fail. She was always being protected because she was powerless against this demon.
“N-Ngh...”
Seized by such nightmarish memories, Lefille groaned. The corners of Rajas’s mouth lifted into a twisted grin.
The Magic in this Other World is Too Far Behind! Volume 2 Page 23