The mages of this world had a ruthless streak. They would do anything to perfect themselves, to reach the ultimate heights. They casually committed acts that would horrify anyone else. Using innocent people as test subjects and leaving them worse off than dead was commonplace.
And so, seeking to abandon their broken world and claim a new one, they set their sights on the “heroes.”
“These things certainly are sturdy.”
“Elder, what should we do with this one?”
“The strongest of all the monsters. Perfect for the core. You there, put it up on that. I shall work on it myself.”
“Yes, Elder.”
The court mages conducted their experiments in Arjio’s tomb, where the evil god was sealed. Even acts previously prohibited on ethical grounds proved easy to carry out, whether because the world was in chaos or because no one would come all the way to the evil god’s tomb to stop them.
“With the evil god sealed here, there is energy in abundance. Yes, good. The perfect place for us to write a new chapter in history. With the strength of these monsters and the evil god, dragging the chief god down to this troubled land need not remain a mere dream...”
Utter nonsense.
‘Drag a god down to earth?’
They would kill the Creator, steal his powers, and make a new world? Rather than try to repair and cultivate the land in which their own souls were rooted, they meant to abandon it and make something else?
‘Fools.’
There was no way they could.
“W-what is this...!”
“Why is this happening?! What went wrong?!”
“N-nothing went wrong! We definitely succeeded in drawing on the chief god’s powers!”
“Then why in the world...!”
Naturally, their attempt ended in failure.
The man confined in the cramped, dark prison of thorns knew nothing of the precise circumstances. He could only surmise that the mages had failed to kill the god, that the chief god had consequently abandoned this world, and that their attempt to make a “new world” with the portion of the Creator’s powers they had copied had instead produced a terrible hell.
‘That was inevitable from the start.’
Humans could never harm a god.
‘They called us monsters so often they seem to have forgotten what they used as materials.’
Idiots. Such utterly stupid bastards.
‘We were humans, not monsters...’
They were too powerful to be called human, yet human they remained. Even a three-year-old knew that beings born of the chief god could not harm him. And above all, would the evil god’s energy, likewise used as material, truly have cooperated with the mages?
‘Of course not.’
Amid the pain, the screams, and the cries of anguish, mockery of the mages swelled. It was not his alone. All the “materials” confined alongside him in these prisons of thorns mocked the mages with every ounce of strength they had.
“You failed, you morons!!”
“Urgh... Ehehe, hehehehehehe!!”
“Failures who can’t even live up to your own names...!!”
“Die! Die! Die!!!”
Amid blood, flesh, and the remnants of the evil god, the mages gradually lost their reason.
“You were the one who devised this plan in the first place, Elder!!”
“What?! Are you saying I was wrong?!”
“Yes, you were! You were wrong! The world is utterly ruined!!”
“How dare you forget your place...!!”
“Even begging the chief god would not have been enough, and you drove him away!!”
“Get over here this instant! I’ll tear that mouth of yours apart!!”
To the mockery of the “materials,” they slaughtered one another. It was only natural: they were all that remained in the world. Apparently, every human outside the Black Forest had long since died.
The failures of a ruined world. The losers. For all their horrific experiments, they had only damaged the world far more than it already was. Such a miserable, pathetic end suited them perfectly.
“...”
“... Ugh, urgh...”
“Bleurgh...”
Even the few who survived the carnage succumbed to the Black Forest’s poison. What an absurd spectacle it must have been, for him to hear even those lofty mages vomiting and whimpering.
And so all the mages died.
“Aaaaargh...! Aah, ugh, uh...”
“... Hnnngh...”
“Cough, ack. Urgh...!”
Only then did the “materials” in their thorn prisons slowly begin to die.
“... Th-the next time we meet...”
“... In God’s embrace...”
People who should have died long ago finally breathed their last, long after the deaths of the mages who had forcibly kept them alive, only when even their life-support devices had grown old and broken down. The stench of blood filled the air.
“...”
And only the man remained.
“... Why, why?”
Please, no.
“Aah... Aaaaaaah...!! Aaaaaaaaaah!!!”
CLANK, CLANK-CLANK!!!
“Kill me, please...!!! Kill me!!! It hurts, I can’t take it!!! I’m begging you!!!!”
Why? What could possibly be the reason? The elder mage’s declaration that he would use the strongest hero as the “core” flashed through his mind. But overwhelming rage, despair, and terror gripped him, and he could not pursue even that thought.
“Aaaaargh!! Aaaaaah!! Cough, cough, uuuurgh...! Ugh...!”
He thrashed in agony, screamed in terror at being the only one left, and eventually sank into an exhausted daze, over and over, countless times. He had long since taken death into a friendly embrace, yet still he could not die.
“...”
And for something close to eternity, he simply sank into darkness. Unable to think at all, he sometimes twitched like an insect with all its limbs torn off. Sometimes he regained a lucidity worse than having none, only to sink back into emptiness.
“...”
He no longer knew what he was saying, what he was thinking, or even what state he was in.
One day, boredom grew greater even than his pain and terror, and he tried counting the passing time. He stopped after 742 years, nine months, three days, two hours, and nineteen seconds.
“...”
Sometimes visions seized him. He remembered the days when he had lived as a human being.
He resented the “materials” nearby, every one of whom had received death’s mercy except him. He felt loneliness more painful than pain itself. Was he truly the only one left in the world? Was there no one else?
Then.
“...?”
He heard something like footsteps.
“... Ah, uh, ngh...”
He heard a voice that seemed to be coaxing and soothing someone.
‘Who is it?’
No, it did not matter. Anyone would do. A human who had somehow survived that calamity, an expedition from a new age born after countless years, even a descendant of the talking beasts.
‘Please, please, just...’
If only they would look at him once.
“...”
“... Oh dear.”
“...”
“Are you alive?”
“... Ngh...”
“You poor thing.”
As though aware of the desperate trembling of his breath, the voice outside the prison continues.
“There, calm down. I’ll have you out soon.”
At last, it was over.
* * *
“... Ah...”
It was a long time afterward before the man first regained anything that could be called awareness.
“Awake?”
“... Wh-who are you...?”
“You’re a little more human now.”
“...”
His eyes. Ah, in his eyes. There was something in his field of vision.
“... H-hold...”
“Do you need a hug? Are you afraid I might be an illusion?”
“Please hold me. Just once... Please, please...”
“You still seem terrified. It’s all right. I’m no hallucination.”
It had been so long since he had seen anything that his eyes stung. The liquid streaming from them was ordinary tears, not blood, and that felt so unfamiliar it sickened him. His breath caught, and his hands and feet shook.
The presence he had not dared look upon approached gently and embraced him, in contrast to its rough, sharp-edged voice. Its body was cool. Yet the hand patting his back was warm, and the soothing voice was kind.
“Yes, you must have been frightened.”
“...”
A dazed feeling. And just like that, he lost consciousness again.
* * *
Afterward, he continued waking and losing consciousness more times than he could count. Much later, when he had recovered enough to realize he was waking for the 182nd time, he finally understood something. Throughout all that time, the person before him had kept soothing him.
“...”
“...”
“Oh, my.”
A young man with vivid red hair looked at him with a broad grin.
“You can see me now, can’t you?”
“... Ah...”
The man managed a clumsy nod.
“... I-I... How long have I...”
“It must have been quite some time.”
“...”
“Now, let’s have a look.”
The young man approached and held out a hand.
“May I take your hand?”
“... Yes.”
“Good. Give it here.”
For some reason, the body temperature that should have felt quite cold was familiar to him. No, it had become familiar. As he sat dazed, unable to fathom how long the young man had stayed beside him, the young man unhurriedly took his hand. Then he stroked it gently and pressed it in several places. The man flinched and trembled briefly, but soon calmed.
“Look. This is your palm.”
“... Yes.”
“These are your fingers, and here are your nails. One, two, three, four, five. You have five in all.”
He spoke slowly and gently, as though teaching a newborn animal how to live.
“See how pressing here and letting go makes it turn yellow, then red again?”
“... Yes.”
“That means blood is flowing through it. Can you feel your bones, nerves, and blood vessels reaching all the way to these fingertips?”
“... Yes.”
“You’re doing well. Excellent.”
The young man continued in much the same way.
“And this is your foot. Here is the sole, and these little fellows are your toes. Much shorter than your fingers, aren’t they? That’s how they’re meant to be, so don’t worry. Mine are the same.”
“...”
“Now, my fingertips are touching the sole of your foot. How many do you think there are?”
“... Three?”
“Mm, good. Very well done. Does it hurt when I press here?”
“No, it just... feels good.”
“And here?”
“There too.”
“Well done. Now, take my hand. Hold on to me with this hand and the other one. Then put your feet on the ground. It will still be difficult to put weight on your legs, so don’t worry. Lean on me.”
The young man grasped his hands and pulled him upright in one swift movement. Unsteady on his feet, he naturally leaned against him. Though a little shorter than he was, the young man supported him firmly, like a tree rooted in the earth.
“Can you feel the cool, smooth ground through the skin of your soles? Good. Now put some strength into those toes. Start with the biggest, then the one beside it, then the next, and on down to the last little fellow.”
“...”
“Excellent.”
Once they had gone through that and the man could stand on his own, the young man took a step back.
“Good.”
“...”
“Now, can you see me?”
“... I can... see you.”
He was a tall young man. It struck him that it had been quite some time since he had seen someone tall enough to look him almost in the eye. Of course, in his circumstances, what hadn’t it been a long time since...? But that was simply how it felt.
Veins showed through skin so pallid it seemed never to have seen the sun. His thick, wavy hair was knotted and hung long to one side, and ornaments of glittering gold and jewels crowded his neck.
Smooth cloth gently draping his body, and an animal hide covered in thick fur. Feet bare like his own. A neck hung with ornaments. Lips curved in a sharp smile. A nose. And...
“...”
Eyes suffused with molten gold.
“... I can see you... clearly.”
“Very well done!”
The young man smiled.
“Congratulations on becoming human again!”
(To be continued)
