I Prefer the Cold (2)
A haze of faint, shadowless light filled the night sky with a strange brilliance. Above, the shimmering Milky Way arched across the heavens, looking so sorrowfully beautiful it felt as if it might pour down right into me.
Two hundred days had passed since I plummeted into this realm.
And now, at the summit of a volcano, I stood face-to-face with an enormous dragon.
“[It’s not a dragon, it’s an elemental spirit,]” Belba corrected me. “[A fire spirit. In every known dimension, their kind is classified as an intelligent species.]”
“I know that.”
“What is it you claim to know, oldest mortal?”
The spirit’s resonant voice echoed in my ears. Something about the way it spoke felt sarcastic, grating on my nerves.
Hmm...
“Why do you insist on tacking on that word, ‘mortal’?”
I had faced countless adversaries up to this point, and the most crucial step in surviving every single encounter was sizing up the enemy. My sharpened senses mapped out the physical form before me, while the Dimensional Power radiating into the surroundings registered the opponent’s internal mana. From that sensory data, I could draw up a rough estimate of the fight: was it winnable, or was it impossible? If I resolved to fight to the death, how much would I have to sacrifice?
This encounter was no different. It was an incorporeal spirit, but that only made gauging it easier; all I needed to do was analyze the wavelength of its mana.
The verdict? The bastard was weak. Incomparably weaker than me.
This world hadn’t even existed for five years. Thinking back on it, those dinosaurs I’d encountered at the very beginning were an absurd exception—everything else had been thoroughly unimpressive. Which meant this spirit had zero justification to act cocky around me. It wasn't even a dinosaur.
I was the strong one, and it was the weak one. If it couldn't grasp that glaringly obvious hierarchy, I could confidently predict that it would end up a corpse before long.
“N-no, that is not what I meant! It was merely a habit of speech, nothing more. Please, understand!”
The moment I flared my aggression, the spirit instantly lowered its posture. In that regard, at least, it truly was an intelligent creature.
“I don't believe in letting mistakes happen twice,” I said cold-eyed.
“I—I agree entirely! I offer my sincerest apologies.”
Had it been anything else, I wouldn’t have reacted so prickly. But mortal... That word grated on my nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. Just thinking about it made my blood boil. Even with my Heat Resistance raised considerably so the crater didn't feel as scorching as before, the heat rushed straight to my head in an instant.
Suppressing my irritation, I glared down at the spirit nestled inside the volcanic caldera.
“How were you born?” I asked.
According to Belba, intelligent life-forms had been springing up like bamboo shoots lately. Had something changed in this world? Coincidentally, the sudden spike in their birth rates aligned almost perfectly with the period after I began absorbing Dimensional Power. There had to be a connection between the two.
At my question, the spirit pondered for a moment before replying that it had heard a voice. Then, with the sensation of falling from the sky above, it had opened its eyes.
What kind of nonsense is that? It wasn't like a kid having a growth-spurt falling dream.
I threatened it to cough up more details, but the spirit insisted that it couldn't remember anything beyond that. It didn't seem to be lying. Which meant it genuinely heard a voice and then plummeted down here...
“Do you remember what it said? Even just the general gist?”
It replied that it couldn't remember at all.
That raised another question: where had this spirit acquired its basic common sense and instincts? When I threatened it, it clearly flinched. That was an instinctual reaction born of the will to preserve its own life. It proved that this wasn't some primitive newborn life-form with an empty mind like an infant. In fact, if you thought about it, holding a coherent conversation with me like this was bizarre enough on its own for a creature that hadn't even existed for a year.
It wasn't a matter of learning speed, either. The spirit was massive enough to fill a crater one kilometer in diameter. If it had traveled anywhere to learn, Belba would never have missed it.
I formulated a cautious hypothesis. Whatever voice the spirit heard was actively sending intelligent life-forms to this world. Whether it erased their memories beforehand or injected basic common sense into them, it left them with just enough survival instincts and communicative ability before dumping them here. That was my theory.
And inevitably, that voice was bound to be linked to Belba. Regardless of their cognitive faculties or the development of their egos, Belba always distinguished whether an entity was an intelligent life-form or not. She wasn't judging by her own whim; she appeared to have been given criteria by someone else, and whenever those standards conflicted with her own observations, she would show bewilderment. If that classification standard was based on whether an entity had been sent by the voice the spirit spoke of, everything clicked into place.
“[...It’s certainly a plausible theory,]” Belba admitted. “[However, where I am, there’s no one who would do such a thing.]”
“Are you sure?”
“[I’m certain. There would be no reason for it.]”
Through numerous conversations, I had confirmed that Belba didn't merely exist as text messages—she possessed a physical form, even if she wasn't human. That only made me more suspicious, because now I understood the true value of this dimension: a pre-Great Cataclysm world, holding vast stores of Dimensional Power before it was consumed.
Belba had mentioned that Dimensional Power was an extraordinarily precious and rare resource. Anyone who knew its true worth would scramble frantically to get their hands on it. In that case, would Belba’s superiors or peers be any different? Belba herself had been envious of me.
“[......]”
My suspicion didn't fade in the slightest. I didn't particularly care if they seeded this realm with intelligent beings, but I doubted it was being done out of pure goodwill. After telling Belba to check again, I turned my attention back to the spirit.
“Hey.”
“...What is it?”
“Can’t you bestow a blessing or something?”
To be honest, I had been anticipating this ever since we first met. The Blessing of the Fire Dragon, the Blessing of the Spirit... that sort of thing. Fantasy tropes existed for a reason, didn't they? It should have one.
When I casually began gathering my mana, the spirit nodded in frantic haste.
“I can! Of course I can! I was practically born to bestow blessings!”
“Glad to hear it. What’s the effect?”
“F-fire-related magic receives additional augmentation! And your resistance to fire will increase!”
“Don’t be so vague. Give me specifics. What exactly does ‘additional augmentation’ mean?”
“Even I am not entirely sure of that... I merely spoke what came to mind. But I am certain it will be so!”
A memory it wasn't even certain of itself. How unsettling. The thought of someone tampering with a mind at will made a wave of disgust rise within me.
For now, I picked up the fox beside me. Miho had curled herself into a tight ball, as if mimicking the spirit.
“Wake up, you lazy bum.”
She had fattened up so much that she was now roughly the size of a leopard. Seriously, was she a fox or a pig? Granted, getting a little chubby wouldn't naturally balloon a fox to the size of a big cat, but it was also true that her plump body had swelled like a steamed bun. I’d have to put her on an exercise regimen later.
“A mystical creature,” the spirit murmured. “It harbors an intense flame within. Is this the one upon whom I shall bestow the blessing?”
“Yeah.”
Upon my confirmation, an ethereal light flowed from the spirit’s body, condensing into a single point before sinking into the fox’s flank. When I checked, an intricate crest was clearly etched into her fur and flesh.
Hmm...
It’s simpler than I expected.
“[What is?]”
The blessing. It was a much lighter construct than I’d anticipated. It was certainly an interesting method, but it didn't seem to offer much real merit.
“A blessing is not something just anyone can bestow!” the spirit puffed up proudly.
“It’s literally just an auxiliary circuit,” I retorted. “Acting all smug over something so basic.”
The spirit clamped its mouth shut. After all, I wasn't wrong. While its complexity and precision deserved some credit, a blessing was fundamentally nothing more than a secondary circuit. In computer terms, it was an external hard drive—creating a small auxiliary circuit outside the body's internal channels to expand the volume of mana one could operate. That was the core principle of a blessing.
“Still, it was a good learning experience. I hadn’t thought about approaching it like this.”
Etching a circuit like a tattoo by exploiting the fact that mana conducts well just beneath the dermal layer—it was an extraordinarily novel concept. Its execution was crude, though, so it was a shame that it only aided in manipulating fire-attribute mana. Well, nothing could be done about that now. I’d just have to optimize the blessing etched into Miho and re-engrave it myself later.
As that thought crossed my mind, I looked back at the spirit. Its expression had turned utterly dismal, looking as though it had lost all will to live.
Hilarious. Anyone watching would think I just plagiarized its life's work.
“[Isn’t that pretty much what you did?]” Belba chimed in.
To be fair, she wasn't wrong. I was currently basking in the feelings of a celebrated novelist who had ripped off an unknown author's unpublished draft to churn out a bestseller. Not that I’d ever experienced that personally, but that was the vibe. Stealing someone else’s invention and claiming it as my own—this thrilling sense of delinquency. It reminded me of Phantom from that one game. Come to think of it, he had been my favorite character. Did I have a knack for being a thief all along?
“[Quit rambling like a degenerate and let’s get moving,]” Belba snapped.
Offering the despairing spirit a sunny smile, I set off toward my next destination. Apparently, there was a scrawny intelligent life-form hovering on the verge of death somewhere ahead. From what I’d heard, it was humanoid like me, so I couldn't help but look forward to it. Could I finally have a proper, civilized conversation—you know, a high-level discussion enriched with nonverbal gestures?
My spirits lifted.
Above, the sky remained dark and tranquil. For a modern person accustomed to brilliant neon signs, ironically, there wasn't a single streetlight to guide my steps.
Whenever I walked with my eyes closed, sounds resonated inside my ears. Things I could hear even if I clamped my hands over them: the sound of blood bursting forth, the crunch of shattering bone, agonized shrieks, and muffled sobs choked through gritted teeth. The despair and agony resurfacing from my memories were sharper than reality itself. Truly remarkable.
Well... it was all in the past now.
I strolled leisurely beneath a sky laden with volcanic ash. My stride carried neither despair nor suffering any longer. It traced a clean, unflinching line, cutting straight toward where I needed to go.