WorldEnd: What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us?, Vol. 3

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WorldEnd: What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us?, Vol. 3 Page 16

by Akira Kareno


  “I’m sorry. I will never be able to be happier than this.”

  She sent a slight amount of venenum through Desperatio. It melded smoothly with the blade, as though it was a part of her body to begin with.

  “Because I finally realized that I have always been happy.”

  A broad, tooth-baring smile crossed her face.

  And the girl leaped into the unending sky.

  Her hair whipped around violently in the wind.

  Her whole body was overflowing with venenum without her having to kindle any more.

  Many books

  burning as they fall.

  A serpent swimming in flames.

  The silver moon

  crumbling to pieces.

  Her soul fell to pieces with quiet ding, dings audible only to herself.

  One piece fell. And then another one.

  A ship sailing

  across the stars.

  Rows of coffins, all lined up.

  A cracked canopy.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  So many things slipped from her mind. All the fun times; all the bad times. She could feel her heart being erased, turning into a blank canvas. But—

  “Good luck.”

  Her lips spontaneously bent into a smile.

  He deeply regretted, from the bottom of his heart, that he never finished studying midair techniques. Well, it was obvious that the greater question was whether his talentless self could’ve produced good results in the first place, even if he’d studied them, but that was irrelevant right now. He just couldn’t scratch away the feeling of what if.

  He first cleared the area of Beasts as he clutched the unconscious Nephren. Now, he was currently supercharging all the venenum he could possibly activate so that most of it could bear the impact of their fall. Nevertheless, the shock battered Willem’s whole body, one that could rip him into pieces and still not be enough.

  With Nephren in his arms, he rolled far across the gray sand. The friction of the sand ripped and tore at his skin, rubbing away even further at the exposed blood and flesh.

  “Rgh… Agh…!”

  They stopped spinning. He coughed up a mass of air and blood from his crushed lungs.

  His entire body was numb. Maybe he should be thankful for that. If he hadn’t been paralyzed—if his pain receptors were fully functional—then he probably wouldn’t be able to stay conscious. That was how bad Willem’s wounds were.

  (—Shit.)

  He had ventured beyond the realm of desperation. He couldn’t move and probably wouldn’t ever again. But they weren’t out of danger yet. All the Beasts he hadn’t been able to fight off during the fall were slowly starting to lift themselves up from the dunes of sand. And he could tell the horde of Beasts left on the ground when the airship took off were silently closing the distance from far away. Their numbers were probably easily over a hundred.

  (There has to be something. A way, anything.)

  He barely managed to string together his consciousness, as it still felt like it could vanish at any moment, and forced himself to think like there was literally no tomorrow. But he thought of nothing. He could think of a hundred ways and a hundred outcomes, a thousand ways and a thousand outcomes, and they would all lead to their death.

  (This isn’t funny.)

  He gritted his teeth, most of which were broken.

  (I—I can’t just give up on these kids’ futures—)

  “You saying you’ll always be right by their side protecting them?”

  He suddenly heard his master’s snide remark from the back of his mind.

  Shut up, go away, this isn’t the time to be remembering you, he thought, but it didn’t go away that easily.

  “Ahhh—be glad, Quasi Brave. Because you can never become a Legal Brave.”

  …Right. He’d simply ignored it back then, but now he wondered what that meant. One needed a special background in order to become a Legal Brave. Whether it be birth or upbringing or destiny, Willem knew well that he had absolutely nothing to do with that kind of stuff. So then why had his master felt the need to say that to remind him all over again?

  (—That doesn’t matter right now!)

  A Beast was drawing straight toward them. He wanted to counterattack, but he couldn’t move a single finger.

  This is it, huh?

  A small seed of defeat sprouted in his heart. From that moment, his consciousness began to fade rapidly.

  Sorry, Nephren. I couldn’t protect you.

  I’m sorry, Chtholly. I couldn’t make you happy.

  And, and—

  It was the very last moment before his consciousness was completely swallowed by darkness.

  He thought he saw someone land gently on the ground by their side.

  5. The End of a Dream

  It was like swimming in a dream.

  A raring impatience clung incessantly to her limbs.

  Time stretched out indefinitely. Her consciousness was accelerating.

  Every single time she swung her right arm once, she lost two things.

  A Beast evaporated, swallowed up by the raging inferno of venenum.

  With quiet ding, dings audible only to her, the pieces of “Chtholly” that were barely left in the girl were slowly chiseled away.

  (—Ahhh—)

  She must have had memories she never wanted to lose.

  But she could no longer remember what those were.

  She must have had futures she never wanted to give up on.

  But she could no longer even picture what a future was.

  She lost everything.

  She let it all go.

  She didn’t regret it. At least, she didn’t think so. Probably. She couldn’t really tell. The memories to show her how to make that judgment were already gone.

  How long had she spent doing that?

  She thought the battle would be never ending, but it still came to a conclusion in the end.

  The number of sliced, pummeled, burned Beasts was 715.

  That was all of them.

  She saw that all the Beasts in the area were no more, and she finally stopped.

  The wind died down.

  Her fiery red hair reflected the moonlight, shimmering softly.

  Someone was collapsed on the ground.

  Who is it? she thought.

  She struggled to put her head to one side, then she looked over to them.

  In the darkness of night, she saw a young man with black hair cradling a girl to his chest, both unconscious.

  “Ah…”

  She lifted her head, about to say something. But her throat had been completely worn out from her reckless breathing in the earlier battle, and she didn’t even know what she would say in the first place.

  The man’s expression made him seem close to tears. For some reason, she thought that was sad.

  Who was he?

  He must have been someone incredibly dear and precious to her.

  But she couldn’t remember who he was.

  She couldn’t even feel a sense of loss.

  I want him to laugh, she thought.

  I want him to make that cheeky smile, she thought.

  But at the same time, she also thought, I want him to cry.

  She also desperately wished he would love her, the empty shell that she had become, so much so that she wanted to burst into tears. I am terrible. I am truly, truly terrible.

  She thought she saw the young man just barely open his eyes and look at her. Joy burst from deep within her heart. Now, she could tell him. Even after her heart had lost everything else, even after she lost sight of who she was herself, the only thing that remained was her last wish.

  There was something she wanted to tell him, no matter what, before she disappeared completely.

  “Thank…you.”

  She managed to somehow move her lips to form the words.

  In the end, she used all the strength she could muster to smile.

  And this time, the girl’s c
onsciousness ceased for good.

  The damage report was thick enough to be its own tome.

  It wasn’t entirely unheard of. The value of a large-size airship didn’t start and stop with it just being a complicated machine. The detailed rights of which routes it could fly on and which ports it could dock at cost a bit of money themselves. And on top of that, if someone was considering flying it down to the surface, then the rights that must be purchased would outnumber the number of fingers and toes on both hands and both feet (we’re thinking about races with five fingers on one hand, five toes on one foot, and two hands and two feet, here).

  That said, the correspondence sent to the faerie warehouse was simple.

  It said: In the sudden battle that broke out at Ground Level K96, MAL Ruins, Second Officer Willem Kmetsch and his secretary went missing in action.

  Additionally, the equipment listed below was lost in the battle:

  Dug weapon Insania.

  Dug weapon Desperatio.

  Dug weapon compatible user, faerie soldier Nephren Ruq Insania.

  Since Second Officer Kmetsch did not have any family, the compensation will be passed on to his workplace, the Orlandry Alliance Warehouse No. 4, and added to its operating fees, in accordance with his life’s wishes—

  Now But a Distant Dream—B

  -la chanteuse-

  This is a story from a little while ago.

  When one girl was still very young, just after she was born.

  On the outskirts of Island No. 94, in a deep and dark forest, the girl stood before a mossy stone monument, crying, Waaah, waaah. Her loud cries echoed throughout the forest as she continued her tempest of tears.

  She was sad. She had no idea why, but a profound sense of loss continued to bubble from deep within her heart, and it didn’t stop.

  “Wow, that’s loud!”

  One faerie soldier, who had just finished a fight nearby, plugged her ears as she spoke with a smile.

  “The feelings from her past life are really influencing her! This child must be pure!”

  The other faerie soldier also plugged her ears to answer.

  “You mean she’s simple and easily swayed?!”

  “You could say that!”

  The two exchanged glances and approached the girl.

  They stooped down to the girl’s eye level and spoke to her softly.

  “Good evening. How are you feeling?”

  Waaah.

  “…She’s not listening.”

  “She probably can’t hear, geez.”

  “This is what you’re supposed to do in times like these!” one of the faerie soldiers announced as she grabbed the girl and forced her into a hug. Children needed to breathe in order to bawl. So when their faces were pushed into someone’s chest, they couldn’t breathe very well. The girl stopped crying quickly, began to flail her arms and legs about, then suddenly stopped.

  “Good, that’s settled.”

  “…Are you sure she’s not dead?”

  “She was just tired and fell asleep. Look.”

  They both strained their ears to hear again, and they heard soft snoring—it was almost impossible to think how loudly she had been bawling only moments earlier. The wind swept through, rustling the trees.

  “—Welcome, little one, to a world frantic about the end but yet one without salvation. I welcome you.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’re welcoming her.”

  “It’s fiiine. It’s a predecessor’s obligation and right to teach children about reality.”

  “You’re terrible.”

  “I sure am.”

  As they chatted, the two faeries both peered at the snoozing girl’s face.

  “I wonder what kind of dreams she’s having?” said one faerie, poking the girl’s chubby cheek.

  “Who knows. Well, I mean, she’s the only one who knows.”

  “Oh. That was a little smile just now. Is it a good dream?”

  “I sure hope so.”

  It had been two weeks since the faerie warehouse received the message.

  Some wailed, some seemed calm on the surface, some reeled, some looked on blankly, some disappeared to hunt bears—

  It took two weeks for everyone to sort out their feelings.

  “Aaargh!”

  The sun was close to setting over the playing field at the faerie warehouse. Tiat Siba Ignareo gave a confident cheer as she ran laps by herself around the field.

  “You can push yourself, but it won’t really give you a better time.”

  She didn’t even look back when Ithea sighed at her, concentrating on nothing but running forward, pushing her steps one in front of the other.

  Clinging to her chest was a silver brooch, which was still a little too big for her.

  “She sure is working hard.” Nygglatho approached them, and Ithea turned her head only slightly toward her.

  “It also feels like she’s a little too enthusiastic, though.”

  After the incident, Nygglatho had given herself a drastic haircut.

  The little ones pestered her as to why, and all she gave was the vague answer of “Just a little change of mood,” but that of course wasn’t the reason. She had sent all her cut hair off with the wind from the port, scattering it to the surface. In the old troll custom, two people taking part of the other’s flesh was a ceremony that tied them together forever.

  “She hasn’t accepted yet that Chtholly’s never coming back. ’S why she’s desperate to make herself as close to her as possible.”

  “That brings back memories. Chtholly was like that once.” Nygglatho made a fragile smile. “The sadness of losing an older-sister figure became her spring, and she became incredibly strong.”

  “And thus the world keeps turning, huh,” Ithea said carelessly, throwing herself backward onto the ground. “Nopht and the others are out of the hospital next week, right? Should we throw a welcome back party?”

  “Yes. I know we’re still sad about the girls who couldn’t come home, but we should be happy to welcome back the ones who did.”

  “Man, you’re so grown-up…” Ithea kicked her feet and stared at the distant sky above her. “…I guess it’s about time for me to learn from you, huh?”

  There was a faint glint in her eyes as she murmured to herself.

  “I just doooooon’t get it.”

  Nopht grumbled, sitting with her feet apart on the white sheets and resting her chin on her knees.

  Nopht and Rhantolk, who survived the battle on the surface, had both been thrown into another island’s clinic by the airship crew members, their entire bodies injured and their life forces depleted as a result of venenum overuse. They spent several days on the brink of death. It was only very recently that they could finally sit up and talk.

  “What the hell did she mean, ‘I have always been happy’? Did she think that would make me understand her? Hooray, she scattered to the wind beautifully, and we lived happily ever after? Nothing about this is happy at all, damn it!”

  “Nopht, be quiet,” Rhantolk said coolly, flipping through a local newspaper. “Happiness is something that only the person in question can see, something only they can understand. Only fools and selfish individuals try to decide or deny what that is for them.”

  “Well, sorry for being a fool,” Nopht raged.

  “…But I understand…”

  …From time to time, it is the foolish and the selfish who make others happy and find happiness themselves. But Rhantolk didn’t finish her sentence and just closed her eyes.

  Rhantolk hadn’t liked Chtholly very much. But that didn’t mean she hated her all that much, either. And that’s why she thought:

  At the very end, if Chtholly really was as happy as she’d declared, then maybe that was the best ending she could have hoped for.

  The winter sky extended for eternity.

  The stars began to twinkle silently, replacing the light of the setting sun and the lost cerulean sky.

  —Or maybe this
was the end of just one story.

  It was someone’s dream world.

  Full of phantasms, a world that couldn’t possibly be real.

  A nostalgic scent tickled his nose. Bread with nuts in it. Scrambled eggs. Crispy salad. Freshly squeezed oranges.

  It was the smell of morning—what else could it be?

  It was the scent of the beginning of the day, one so familiar to him he felt no longing for it.

  “Mm…”

  He stirred briefly.

  “Oh, are you finally up?”

  He could hear the faint sound of slippers slapping against the floor. He knew the sound of these footsteps so well.

  Slowly, he opened his eyes. He could see the faded plaster on the ceiling.

  “This is—”

  It looked a lot like somewhere he once knew. It was very similar to a place he once wanted to go home to.

  Joy welled up deep inside his heart. But something inside those depths strongly rejected the joy. This couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be.

  “Almaria.”

  “Hmm?”

  He called her name, and he received a response. The inside of his mind still felt murky.

  “Was I asleep?”

  “You seemed to be having a tough time of it. Nightmares?”

  Small presences began to make themselves known throughout the building. The smell of morning struck equally each and every one who lived in the orphanage. Soon, one after the other, the children would leave their rooms and come down the stairs to show themselves.

  Had he been dreaming? Could it be?

  It was an incredibly realistic dream if it was. In his dream, he found himself on the brink of death countless times. He lost so much, gained so much, then lost it all again. He was so sad that the tears wouldn’t come. But he was also so happy to the point that he couldn’t manage a smile.

  Despite how vivid dreams could be, in the end, they were nothing but dreams. He would always wake up from them. They would melt in the morning light and be forgotten. He knew that his memory of it, of something so precious to him, would soon sink into a deep place in his heart, and he would never remember it again.

 

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