by Akira Kareno
“Even among the Braves, who carried these into battle, there were barely even a handful who could look after their own swords. That was normal. If someone wanted to repair their Carillon, then they had no choice but to gather a team of specialist engineers and spend time doing so at a fully equipped workshop.
“And despite all that, what was this report? He adjusted it by itself? And it was the strongest blade, Seniorious? And the same man even adjusted the other swords? Ha-ha!”
He spat it out, almost enjoying it.
“It is probably an exaggeration to sell himself, but this is too much. Such a monster that managed such skill did not exist even in the emnetwiht world. This isn’t the rebirth of a miracle; it’s just some big talk way beyond that.”
“A monster…? I recall you using those words before. It was the Black Agate Swordmaster…yes?”
“Ah—right.”
The old man’s mood improved slightly as the officer led to the next topic.
This corridor was needlessly long, and there wasn’t much to look at. He wouldn’t be able to stand all the walking without even the most meager of small talk.
“That man may have been able to make that big talk into reality.” The Great Sage spoke of him, his eyes gazing into the distance in nostalgia. “It was terrifying how much of a mystery he was. He didn’t really have any talents that could be called a talent. The venenum he could produce was below average. He could not even produce simple thaumaturgy. Even on the path of swordsmanship that he chose, he could use nothing greater than the moves he learned at his public training hall.”
“Was he…a normal person, perhaps?”
“Quite. The most normal of normal. At the very least, that is what he should have been in the beginning.
“However, he wished to become a Legal Brave. And no matter how many times he was presented with the reality that he was talentless, he never gave up on that path. He did all he could to take on as many things as possible in order to bury what he lacked. And he did all he could to cultivate the few things that he made his own. In the end, what happened? Born was a monster, who, in a battle outside the emnetwiht realm that was crawling with beings who held legendary swords and could unleash legendary techniques, brought and fought techniques that were no greater than what one could find at the average training hall, achieved the greatest military results, and came home safely.”
It was dread, or respect, or perhaps something else. The Great Sage’s body shivered slightly.
“Even I, who was still immature at the time, was a few steps ahead of him in regards to the power I could wield and the breadth of the things I could accomplish with that power. And yet, even now, after I have gained even more power, I cannot imagine being victorious over him if we fought.”
“Imagine?” The officer hung her head and smiled conservatively. “We do not know what sort of things these legendary swords and techniques might have been. To say that he was more of a man of valor than you are, Great Sage, then I cannot even begin to imagine as such.”
“—Perhaps that is a good thing. Things that are lost will never return. Memories of that time, recollections of those from that era, are all nothing but my nostalgia. You, who live now, should live carrying this era on your shoulders.” With an audible step, they stopped walking. “This room?”
“Yes. Are you ready?”
“Well, I’ve been brought all this way, so I have no choice. At least let me look upon the face of the swindler—”
The knob turned, and the door opened.
A young man with black hair sat with his knee resting on the reception desk, yawning in boredom.
“…Hmm?”
The young man looked at him.
“Hey, Suowong. Nice to see you—man, you really changed your look, huh?”
The Great Sage’s jaw dropped to the floor.
“You got real tall, didn’t you? I almost didn’t recognize you, since you’re not wearing your cape.”
“The Black Agate…Swordmaster…?”
With a hoarse voice, the Great Sage—Suowong—called the young man’s name.
“Been a long time since I’ve been called that, Magus of the Polar Star. Glad to see we’re both doing well.”
Suowong Kandel.
Like Willem, he was a member of the band of Braves assembled more than five hundred years ago to defeat the Visitor Elq Hrqstn.
Suowong was the favored disciple in the Imperial Tower of Sages, a thaumaturgist who hid in himself rare abilities. His power, which could crack the ground and pierce the heavens, was on the level of Quasi Braves wielding Carillons on the battlefield. Though he had fatal flaws in his naming and fashion sense, and though he was a little shorter than other boys his age, and though he was a little too confident in his own abilities, he more or less lived up to his legendary reputation. He most certainly had enough talent that he took pride in himself and enough diligence that he did not let that get to his head, which allowed him to work hard, and he had enough humility to recognize the skills of the people around him, and he had enough cooperativeness to unify these people and powers for the sake of one goal—he had it all.
To Willem, he was a companion whom he could rely on without a doubt—and one he could confide in. Of course, that was not something he could tell the man himself.
And naturally, he thought Willem died fighting five hundred years ago.
However, since that wasn’t the case—and since he had been acting as a prominent authority figure since the birth of Regule Aire, there were some things that fell into place.
It had always struck him as odd. Many things in this island cluster were based on the emnetwiht and their culture.
It was not natural in the first place that a great many races escaping to the sky after the surface was destroyed led directly to their building towns and thriving. Normally speaking, suddenly gathering all these races, which had lived separately on the surface, would have immediately sparked sectarian conflicts, leaving only the strongest at the top of society.
Additionally, it was also strange how all the architecture bore a striking resemblance to the things that emnetwiht once built.
Back on the surface, the semifer lived in the treetops and in the cracks between stones. Orcs piled up dirt and made their dwellings in things that looked like trenches. Lizardfolk lived in tentlike houses, made of braided grass. Ballmen and prima and similar races had no concept of housing.
These kinds of people were all gathered in one place, everyone on their best behavior, building towns that were a striking copy of emnetwiht settlements, and beginning to live there—that was not something that happened naturally.
There were countless other things Willem could point out. Food culture, the coin system, garment manufacturing techniques, social systems, paper manufacturing and bookbinding systems, and so on and so forth. The skies where everyone but emnetwiht lived bore an unbelievable resemblance to the world the emnetwiht did live in; it was almost impossible to find exceptions.
Now, he could easily point to a solution in regards to all this unnaturalness.
It was Suowong’s doing.
In the creation of Regule Aire, he was the one who had come up with the plan of the skyward civilization itself by demonstrating intense leadership.
He was from the Empire, and he was knowledgeable in history. And the Empire’s history was a repetition of invasion and annexation, so it was a treasure trove of precedent and an example of those born in different cultures gathered together in one place. That was why he didn’t find it odd that Suowong pulled off creating and leading a singular world culture.
After all, he was a universally acknowledged genius.
“You were petrified on the surface?!”
The stern-faced old man raised his voice in hysteria.
“No matter how hard we searched with the heart-rate detector back then, we found no responses, so we were certain you’d died—”
“Well, I was petrified, so my heart wasn’t moving. That heart-rate
detector of yours tracks inherent venenum before it’s activated, right? You would’ve never found me.”
“—Give back the tears I cried that day.”
“Huh? You cried for me?”
“N-n-no! I’d never do anything like that for you. I knew you were like a cockroach; ooh, I knew it!”
He floundered about in frustration, and it didn’t suit him at all.
“You say that, but it’s been pretty rough on my end. I never heard people could be revived after being turned into stone until that happened to me. Back then, I didn’t think any help would come, so I assumed I was dead. The doctor’s bill was pretty high just for treating everything besides the petrification. It took a lot of time and money to release the multiple curses and spells that bound me. So thanks to that, I’ve been living life in debt since the moment I woke up.”
“This is ridiculous…”
Willem thought he heard Suowong grumble, “That’s why I don’t like you,” as the old man gazed at the ceiling.
It wasn’t like he turned to stone because he wanted to, and he wasn’t revived because he wanted to be. He had things he sort of wanted to say back, but he understood how he felt, so he kept silent.
“Forget about me—what about you? I heard the emnetwiht all died out? Well, even if they didn’t, it’s been a long time since then. Looks like you’ve aged a lot, but how are you still alive? Don’t tell me there are others still running about, too?”
“Don’t ask so much all at once. You’re too excitable. Well, one answer can explain those three questions,” Suowong said, removing his coat and exposing his chest.
There was a large cavity in the place where his heart should have been.
“That’s…”
“I was killed in the battle five hundred years ago, too. I was fighting Jade Nail. One of three Poteau guarding the Visitors. It was Emissa and I who fought against it, and the two of us were easily killed. But before I lost consciousness, I improvised and cast some thaumaturgy on myself. I can’t explain to you the detailed theory behind it, but it interfered with how my life works and fundamentally changed it so that I cannot die via conventional means. So now, I will not die of wounds or old age. And of course, now I’m—not an emnetwiht anymore.”
“Oh…”
“Let me just say this beforehand, but don’t pity me. I am rather fond of myself now, and to have you sympathize with me sends shivers down my spine.”
“No, not you. I’m more shocked to hear Emissa was killed.”
“Hey!”
But you seem on top of it no matter how I look at you, he thought but decided not to say.
“That explosive devil is gone, huh? I thought I had enough of being sad, but man, does it hurt to hear it again. So I guess the others died in the battle, too, huh?”
“No—not everyone. Lillia and Navrutri lived.”
Suowong hadn’t survived beyond time like Willem, who had turned into stone. He had lived for five hundred years until now, his eyes open, moving around. So he should know everything that happened while Willem slept as a dumb rock.
“Hey—”
He had a mountain of things he wanted to know. He was about to ask.
Where did the master go while we couldn’t get ahold of him?
What happened to the army of monsters marching on the capital?
Did the princess and king, who had always supported us, survive?
“Just tell me one thing. What are the Seventeen Beasts? What happened, and where, to draw those things out while we were off fighting the Visitors?”
He swallowed most of what he wanted to know and asked just one thing.
The outcome of Lillia’s fight. The safety of his companions. There was no point in checking on that now. His race had died out a long time ago, and he already knew the answer.
What he should at least know now were things that were worth knowing.
“—Do you remember the True World?”
He nodded. It was one of the armed cults that revolted against the Empire’s governance at the time, five hundred years ago. At the request of the royal family, Willem and the others under Brave Lillia crushed them.
“The remnants of their organization…apparently set up a base in a small town outside of the Empire and began research on biological weapons or such. Those Beasts were the results of their research.”
“I see. That’s why they say the emnetwiht destroyed the world.”
Though the people directly responsible were just an extremely small portion of the emnetwiht, it was all the same to the other races, who were on the verge of extinction. And no one wanted to bring back the honor of a race that died out long ago.
“…According to the military police report, you’re now working as an enchantments officer, correct?”
It wasn’t a topic he really wanted to talk about, but Suowong had clearly changed the subject. There were still things about the past he wanted to know, but he decided not to go against him.
“Just on paper, so I feel bad for the real enchantments officer.”
“What are you talking about? You think there’s a second enchantments officer besides the one on paper?”
“Huh?”
Suowong looked irritated when he saw Willem staring at him blankly.
“The second officer has different qualities than those of the first or third and below. That is to say, it’s a fictional position for internal and external appearances, to show that enchantment research, which we all know is not making any progress, is being conducted anyway. The only thing in the job requirements is to exist, and nothing else is expected. Because the real work is research that is already being conducted under the presupposition that it will never make any headway. Even progress reports would be a waste of time and paper.
“I will say, however, that it isn’t as though there is no precedent for a warm body to fill the position of second officer. But that’s when we politically demote a troublesome officer. They receive nothing more than the minimal power and pay, and it is rather useful as a final useless post… In the end, it’s a job that isn’t much more than what’s on paper.” There, he sighed deeply. “What represented our discontinued research was investigating the laws of the Carillon. So you being the second officer might shake up the very reason the second officer exists.”
“That’s fine; no one’s gonna worry about it. I’m glad I can relax at a useless post. I’m not gonna ask for any more power or pay than I already have.”
“—Aaaargh!!”
Suowong put his elbows on the desk and grasped his head.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know if I should call you the right man for the job or if I should liken you to a battle-ax splitting walnuts. You’re the only one who can pull off the feat of maintaining the Carillon, and that would be the best choice militarily, but to keep you there for the rest of your life would be such a disservice to all of Regule Aire…”
He was muttering about something, but the second half he spoke in such a quiet voice, he couldn’t hear.
“Oh yeah, that military police officer said I should ask the Great Sage about what I should do with my treatment. Sorry to ask while you’re distressed, but can you decide quickly, please? I promised ’em I’d go home right away.”
“Go home?” Suowong lifted his head. “Go home to that faerie warehouse?”
“I have no other home, do I? I don’t think my house on the surface is still around. Sure, since it’s our first time meeting after a long while, I guess we could renew our old friendship or whatever. We both are fortunately doing pretty well. Let’s just reschedule for another day.”
“No… Wait—” He faltered. “…Before that, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
“What, again? It’s been two days since I got here. There are kids at home who’ll go hungry if I don’t get back soon.”
“He’ll want to meet you once he knows you’re alive. And you— Well, you probably never wanted to see him again. Bu
t you can’t ignore him. You can’t.”
That was a strange way of putting it.
“What? Someone I know? And since you’re a mutual—an old acquaintance?”
Suowong didn’t respond.
“Don’t be so pompous. Who is it? I’m a regular emnetwiht; I don’t know a single other person besides you who could’ve lived for hundreds of years—”
His words stopped in their tracks.
Someone he met in the old world. Someone both he and Suowong knew. A timeless, undying being.
He realized he could think of one such entity.
“—No way.”
“We’ll finish our talk while we walk.”
Suowong spoke bluntly, getting to his feet.
“Wait, I didn’t say I’d go yet.”
“Then will you say you won’t go?”
His words caught in his throat.
Suowong must have taken that response as his answer. He flung open the door, faced the officer who stood waiting there quietly, and announced with a loud voice:
“We are going to Island No. 2. Prepare the airship immediately! …Oh, no, no need to be afraid. It’s not your fault. It is mine for raising my voice. I should have opened the door calmly. You don’t need to shrink down so much, really.”
Island No. 2.
Also known as “The Pith of the World Tree.”
Looking at Regule Aire from directly above, it was almost right in the center.
So of course, it sounded like it would be an important place of trade. However, not a single one of the presently active airship routes came to this island.
There were three reasons.
One was that there were no settlements of any race on this island, so there was no value in traveling to it for trade. Another reason was that it was not only floating much higher than the other islands, it was also constantly surrounded by storm clouds, so regular ships could not even get close.
And the final reason was that it served as a sanctuary.
Fundamentally, all things fall down. Despite that immutable rule, more than a hundred islands were floating in the sky. This mysterious secret that was the premise of this world called Regule Aire lay within this Island No. 2. And so it was taboo to brazenly enter and violate its hallowed ground, as it might send Regule Aire plummeting straight to the earth.