Day Fifteen: Prologue

He had been leaking tears in fits and starts for a long while before the crackle of the campfire finally dragged him back to himself.

Facing Franc was mortifying. Shameful. To go and show her tears again, so unmanly... He turned from her gentle smile, hastily wiped the tracks from his cheeks, and, pretending nothing at all was wrong, went back to the fire to check the skewers.

Four of them had become lumps of black charcoal. One still sizzled, fat dripping, cooked through to a crisp.

He tossed the burnt meat into the flames. Sparks scattered in every direction and briefly lit the dark, and he watched them a moment before planting four fresh skewers in front of the fire and settling comfortably onto the land-penguin hide. Franc sat down right beside him, pressed close.

"......Ahem."

Still self-conscious about having cried, he cleared his throat for no good reason—and noticed tiny grains of light drifting around his arm. It was past seven, and the dark made them unmistakable. The motes were gathering, glowing with the faintest light.

Franc must have noticed them long ago. That would be why she had been flitting about as if excited.

His heart stirred. How long until those grains of light grew large enough to take him home?

He tried to recall what the survival manual had said, but there was nothing detailed about the grains of light. Only that they grew, and that growing meant going home—back to reality.

Damn it. Whoever wrote that book was definitely not an ability user. Just some ordinary person! Returning to reality was a thing that set the heart pounding, and they had reduced it to a single flat sentence: you will be returned.

Sizzle. Hiss.

He lifted a skewer browned a little darker, and oil dripped into the fire, thickening the savory smell. One bite and it crumbled like a cracker, overcooked, tasting of almost nothing—but as he chewed it down, a faint nutty flavor came through. Edible enough. He blew on the rest and finished it, turning the other skewers as they began to cook, and looked down at Franc where her head rested against his shoulder.

Sensing his gaze, she lifted her head slightly and looked up at him. Feeling the impulse to stroke that soft-looking hair, he opened his mouth.

"Once we're back in reality, there's a lot to do. I'll have to go to the Ability User Alliance headquarters, register as an ability user, take the class test, get my ability verified."

And that wasn't all.

"I want to learn English, and lip-reading, so I can actually talk with you, Franc. And I ought to visit your hometown, too."

At that, Franc's eyes went wide. The look of someone who had never even considered the matter ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of home.

Watching her face, he spoke with all the sincerity he had.

"Even if you've been trapped here for sixty years, your family must all still be alive. So before you pass on, I'll help you meet them."

But Franc did not look happy. She lowered her gaze instead, and smiled a sad smile.

......Ah. Don't tell me... He had stepped on it. A mistake.

The feeling of having planted a foot on an enormous landmine made him study her expression, and she offered a false smile and nodded. ......Not so much false as a smile thick with sorrow.

Ugh. Definitely a landmine. Sixty years had passed; had she lived, Franc would be eighty-seven by now. Her parents would have been gone long ago.

Ah. Opening his mouth without a thought in his head...

He was scratching his head and cursing his own stupidity when he felt a tickle against his cheek. He turned, and Franc had brought her lips close to his cheek, wearing a soft smile.

A face that said, don't worry about it.

She had to be sad herself, and still she was looking after him...

......Ah.

This was bad. What was he supposed to do? He was liking Franc more and more.

If this feeling kept piling up, he was almost afraid of where it would go. They said morbid jealousy was love twisted out of shape—was he about to set a foot on that same road?

Even so, he ought to visit her hometown. Even if not her parents, her brothers and sisters might still be alive. And even if she didn't show it, she would want to know how her home had changed.

But he was eighteen. How was he supposed to get to Britain? Did he need a visa? If he went with a guardian, it ought to be fine... Maybe he could coax his sister into it.

While his thoughts wandered, a skewer finished cooking. He picked one up and took a bite.

"......!"

A texture somewhere between tender and chewy tore springily in his mouth, and juice flooded out. He hadn't seasoned it at all, and yet the salty meat-flavor hit as if it had been salted—he thought he might fall in love with it.

The moment the meat entered his mouth, every cell in his body seemed to demand food. He grabbed skewers in both hands, barely chewed, gulped them down, and crammed the water leaves into his mouth as well, chewing like a man possessed.

Delicious. Unbelievably delicious!

As if someone had gathered only the best of pork and beef and chicken, the rush of savoriness stabbing at his taste buds made him forget even to breathe. Spellbound, he devoured twenty of the thirty thick, steak-cut skewers, and his belly swelled up like a tadpole's. Having put away nearly forty-five pounds on his own, he earned a look of astonishment from Franc, who stroked his enormously distended stomach.

Ahem. For some reason his chest felt all ticklish.

He had demolished twenty skewers, but the body's demand for meat had not gone quiet, so he talked with Franc—he talking, she only clapping or nodding—while he roasted the rest slowly and pushed it into his mouth a little at a time.

Watching Franc listen with a smile on her lips, the nape of his neck itched for no reason at all. The outer corners of her eyes curved prettily when she laughed, and with the moonlight falling across that face she was so beautiful, so lovable, it almost hurt to look...

In this moment, he envied no billionaire alive.

The thirty skewers were eventually all gone, the conversation ran dry, and a silent night arrived, without so much as a cricket.

He had thought sitting wordlessly with another person would be unbearably awkward, like sitting on pins and needles—and yet simply sitting together like this, saying nothing, felt good. Was this what the feeling called love was?

Ugh. The backs of his ears itched, somehow.

If he kept thinking about it he was going to breakdance out of sheer weirdness, so he unfolded Search and turned his attention to the Phase Power steadily vanishing around him.

Perhaps because he had just fought, and because his emotions had swung so hard, the efficiency of Search had dropped considerably. He closed his eyes and focused. Then he could see seven orbs of light, each no bigger than a little fingernail, absorbing the natural Phase Power nearby.

He described the scene in his mind to Franc as he checked the amount of Phase Power flowing in, and guessed it at about 0.12 an hour.

Hmm. On what principle did this work? He wanted to touch one, just lightly, but he had no idea what might happen, so he gave it up.

"Franc, do you happen to know how long it takes before the return activates? Before we go back?"

She pointed at the numbers on the ground—first 12h, then 24h.

"Between twelve and twenty-four hours?"

A nod.

"Mm. Then, since it was four o'clock when you told me earlier, we only have to wait twenty hours at most."

She beamed.

Franc had calmed down now and returned to her usual self, but this time he was the one who couldn't settle.

Heh heh heh. So in about twenty hours, he was going home?

He closed his eyes and was lost in watching Phase Power gather into the fingernail-sized orbs when he felt a tapping poke against his cheek. He looked aside, and Franc was smiling with her eyes, tapping the land-penguin hide and making a gesture that meant sleep.

He considered it, but his heart was too stirred; lying down didn't seem likely to bring sleep. He would just watch the Phase Power collect in the orbs and practice Phase Power control. If he closed his eyes and lay still, Franc would think he was asleep.

"The two-tailed fox that ran off might come back... so keep a good watch, please."

He decided he would get up after a reasonable stretch and switch with her. He rebuilt the campfire, gathered kindling beside it, and stretched out on the penguin hide.

Listening to the crackle of the fire, he closed his eyes.

Partway through he got up, switched with Franc, and nursed the embers; Franc slept a little, then rose and switched with him. Taking rest in turns like that, before he knew it the day had begun to pale toward dawn.

Careful not to sink in too deep, modulating the intensity as he went, he watched all the while the Phase Power being drawn into the orbs and the way the orbs themselves shimmered, and the time passed quickly.

......Mm. Something like inspiration was on the verge of surfacing. Not about Phase Power control, and not about his ability either...

Huh? Ah—the orbs! The Phase Power being absorbed!

He shot up from where he sat, abandoned the control practice, and fixed his focus on the orbs. The image of one magnified, and the way Phase Power flowed into it drew itself in his mind in greater detail.

If he studied this well, he might be able to fill the Soul Stone with Phase Power!

His hand rose of its own accord toward the Soul Stone pouch, but he didn't take the stone out; he lowered it again. He couldn't experiment directly on the Soul Stone. Later, once he got his hands on even a small Phase Stone, he would test it.

He opened his eyes and turned to Franc, floating in the air, and found her wearing a startled face at his sudden movement. He forcibly stopped his gaze from sweeping, on instinct, over her chest, and shouted.

"Franc! I think I've found a way to fill the Soul Stone with Phase Power!"

Hearing the shout, Franc settled into a ladylike seat, folded her arms, narrowed her eyes, and began to stare at him.

Why... why was she looking at him like that?

Ah. She had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠caught him pretending to sleep.

......Hoo. Nothing for it.

"It just hit me that the orbs absorb Phase Power, so I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked closer, and I could tell they're a kind of energy mass, similar to a Phase Stone, you know? So I was watching how the Phase Power gets absorbed, and I thought if I studied it carefully enough, it might actually be possible! So once we're back in reality, if I get my hands on even a tiny Phase Stone and experiment with putting Phase Power into it, it might work! Then we wouldn't have to worry about Phase Power at all, and you could throw lightning as much as you wanted, right?! And you could stay in reality for as long as you wanted, too!"

He poured it out like a machine gun, not even pausing for breath, mixing in gestures as he went, and Franc raised a hand with a face that said so that's why you didn't sleep... no, that's why—! Just a moment, if I might speak...!—but he would not stop, and in the end she set both hands on her knees and listened with a sulky expression.

Now.

"So... it's not like I didn't rest at all, right?"

He finished, sneaking a glance at her mood, and Franc let out a long sigh, the way an older sister sighs at someone hopeless. The crisis seemed to have passed. He giggled, got up to fetch firewood, and had taken only a few steps when an Aberrant entered his detection range. One of them.

He had sensed it in the gap of a blink, so he flinched, closed his eyes, and confirmed it for certain.

......Huh?

That was the two-tailed fox that had run away!

He couldn't tell when it had climbed onto the island, but it was hiding behind the pile of Aberrant carcasses stacked on the western side, tearing into the dead flesh in a frenzy.

The reason he hadn't noticed it must have been the firelight. His position had been given away to the thing.

So the creature had avoided the light, circled the long way, and come up onto the island using the carcass pile as cover—and that very action had ended up saving its life. That, and because he hadn't wanted the pile inside his Search range, he had gathered the Aberrant carcasses at the western edge while he himself stayed at the eastern edge.

The two-tailed fox was soaked to the bone, its ribs showing stark from hunger. Which was why it hadn't even realized it had been spotted, wholly absorbed in going after the land penguin's flesh.

Its Phase Power had climbed to 33—it must have absorbed a little while the fighting was at its height.

......Past 26? Then a Low-Rank Variant? But he didn't feel the pressure, or the oppressive presence, of something like the No-Head Mantis.

Franc, seeing him frozen and staring fixedly in one direction, finally turned her head the way he was looking, wearing an expression of what's over there? as she began to search.

"The two-tailed fox that ran off is back."

At his words her face hardened. She lifted off and flew toward the carcass pile, then turned back midway. She must have found it.

He nodded to the grim-faced Franc, returned to the campfire, and took up the claw-knife.

"The sun should be up before long, so let's wait until then and catch it. Fighting in the dark doesn't look like a good idea."

With Search, fighting in darkness wasn't difficult, but the guess that the thing had evolved into a Low-Rank made him uneasy about moving rashly.

"I'll keep an eye on that fox, so get a little more rest, Franc."

She shook her head.

"If anything happens, I'll wake you, so you really should sleep a bit more..."

She shook her head!

"But you need to sleep too..."

She shook it, and shook it again!!

......So this was how Franc had felt, when he had dug in and refused to sleep. As if taking revenge for last time, she kept shaking her head, refusing.

Deciding there was nothing for it, he raised his hands in surrender.

"All right. But if you get even a little sleepy, you have to sleep. Deal?"

A firm nod!

He set the claw-knife aside and checked the size of the orbs that would let them return. A little bigger and brighter than when he had first noticed them... about twelve hours left?

The two-tailed fox had grown a bit since it fled, too. Maybe two inches, though the soaked-flat fur made it hard to be sure.

He practiced Phase Power control while keeping watch on the fox until sunrise, and Franc spent what remained of the night watching him.

When the sun rose and a bluish cast began to gather, he weighed the claw-knife against the wooden spear, and picked up the claw-knife.

The moment he chose it, Franc started to look flustered. She must have thought he would take the thing down with a thrown spear.

He had meant to throw the wooden spear at first, too. But in that instant doubt seized him. If he couldn't handle a single Lowest-Rank Variant up close—if it had to be an ambush, or an attack from range—could he really call himself an ability user?

Of course, his main ability was Search, a support type. But Analysis let him receive a bonus on every action, and by circulating Phase Power he could enhance his body as well. If he couldn't take down an Aberrant like that with abilities of this level... he had the feeling he would never be able to operate in the Phase World at all.

He drew a breath and told Franc what he had been thinking, and she clasped her hands together with a serious face and gave a small nod, as if cheering him on.

He gripped the claw-knife and rose, and his heart pounded and lurched all over again.

He could do this. He had taken down the big field rat and the snout-wolf, hadn't he? So a fox of that level was nothing. Analysis would help him this time, just as it had then.

......But his heart was hammering, and he could not calm down at all. He needed a sedative. A highly effective one.

And that sedative was right beside him!

He gazed steadily at Franc's sculpture-perfect naked body, and the heart that had been beating out of rhythm began to beat in time.

"Good. I'm calm."

"Except for you-know-what."

Leaving the dumbfounded Franc behind—she had caught the mutter—he walked slowly toward the two-tailed fox, which was in the middle of breakfast.

He clenched the handle of the claw-knife in his right hand with all his strength and circulated Phase Power, and strength surged through his body, courage welling up with it.

The two-tailed fox might be a Low-Rank Variant, but even the No-Head Mantis, with higher Phase Power than this thing, had had its body run through by his thrown spear. This claw-knife would work just fine.

He deliberately walked with soft, audible steps, and through Detection he could see the fox clearly—pausing mid-bite in the land-penguin carcass, dropping low, ears pricking up. When he closed to fifty yards from the pile, the thing grew tense as well, ears swiveling toward him, body flinching.

He moved counterclockwise around the carcass pile, and the two-tailed fox began to retreat, hesitating—visible now even to the naked eye.

A small fox's face and body. Triangular ears. Fur divided red above and white below. Four paws ringed in black, and behind them two tails tipped in white, swaying.

Looking into its eyes, he saw fear mixed with hostility—the expression of something deciding whether to fight or flee.

Strange. The established theory was that Aberrants hated ability users. Wasn't it normal for them to charge the moment they saw him?

When the distance shrank to twenty yards, the two-tailed fox seemed to have chosen flight, and quietly turned. The instant he saw it, he kicked the blood-soaked dirt at his feet toward the thing, meaning to provoke.

With a fwap, dirt sprayed into its face. It shut its eyes, shook its head, and began sending a markedly stronger hostility his way.

Yeah. That's an Aberrant.

Waoooong! Uwaaaang!

Maybe dirt had gotten in its eyes; it seemed angrier than he had expected. His impression of a fox's cry, heard for the first time: similar to a wolf's howl, but thinner, sharper.

Nothing much. Not even Fear, and compared to the pressure of that young Imugi, this was the sort of thing that made you want to yawn.

It was entering a combat stance. Its two tails split left and right and fluttered, looking ready to lance at him at any moment. Fangs bared to the full, malice dripping from its eyes. Fully prepared to fight.

Now the thing began to approach him as well, stepping lightly, drawing a circle toward him. It didn't look as if it would run anymore. Time for him to prepare, too.

He lowered his body slightly, left foot forward, right foot stretched back, feet set shoulder-width, then brought out the claw-knife he had hidden behind his back and held it upright. In his left hand he gripped the horn awl, to keep the thing in check.

Euuuuuong.

Two weapons appearing out of nowhere seemed to startle it; it hesitated and made a threatening sound. He was particularly satisfied to see it wary of the claw-knife in his right hand.

The moment he confirmed its eyes were fixed on the blade—

"Haaaaah!!"

He sent Phase Power into both legs, kicked off the ground, and charged the two-tailed fox!

Kaaaaang!

The fox screamed like struck metal and lunged, and in that instant a portion of Phase Power flowed into his head. His mind cinched extremely tight, and the thing's movements began, little by little, to slow.

In a flash he had closed to a dozen feet, and Analysis told him strength was gathering in the hind legs, teaching him even the trajectory as a translucent image. A virtual image of it jumping while twisting its hips, splitting the tails up and down to stab.

He dodged the tails aimed at his head and right arm, put strength into his lower abdomen, and sprang to the right as if kicking off the ground, swinging the claw-knife up hard on a diagonal toward the two tails!

"Hup!"

The thing's speed had dropped a little, and his had risen a little, and in that situation one of the fox's tails, moving exactly as the virtual image had shown, came precisely into the blade's range.

The fox's eyes flew wide in shock. He saw the belated motion of it trying to pull the tail back.

I'm faster.

The moment one of the two tails caught on the claw-knife's edge, it sheared in half with a wet shhk.

Kyaaaang!

Through the fur and blood scattering in the air, he stepped in with his left foot, then drove his right into the ground and leapt at the fox, which was only now trying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to land. And as Analysis directed, he thrust the horn awl in his left hand at the fox's face and brought the claw-knife down again toward its tail.

Shk—kiaaaang!!

Busy dodging the awl coming at its face, the thing failed to pull its tail clear in time, and rolled across the ground screaming a tearing scream. Both tails had been shortened all the way to the rump, and they bled.

Behind the rolling creature, a virtual image drew it springing away like a coil and fleeing. Seeing that, he moved first, rushing in as if to pounce, swinging his arm wide and slashing the claw-knife sideways.

Ssk.

Half of a hind leg covered in jet-black fur sheared away, red blood stitching the air. He saw the fox's eyes fly wide and then squeeze shut, its muzzle opening, a scream about to burst out.

Kyaaaeng!

Paying no mind to the blood sprayed through the air spattering his body, the fox collapsed to the ground with a thud. He watched the real fox, madly scraping the earth with its front paws, and the virtual image together, and brought the claw-knife down toward its waist.

Kyaaang! Kyaa...!

The feeling of bone severing and flesh parting traveled up through the claw-knife.

From the two-tailed fox's waist, cut through in a single stroke, the innards surged and spilled. The fox didn't even seem to know its waist had been severed; it thrashed its front paws, heaved its body, and flailed without cease, as if trying to escape.

Kyaeng! Kyaaaeng!

He looked down at the convulsing fox, and slowly the screams dwindled, the thrashing lessened, and it vomited a gush of blood from its muzzle and dropped its head with a thud.

He could see Franc flying slowly toward him, her face bright. Only after seeing her did he realize he hadn't been breathing, and he drew a great breath.

"Puhah! Hah! Hah!"

As he gasped roughly, the mind that had been cinched so tight loosened back to normal—and the speed of Franc, who had been flying slowly, suddenly increased.

She reached him, cupped his cheeks in both hands, kissed his forehead, and smiled radiantly. Feeling his heart pound at the victory kiss, he smiled back at her.

But... what had that been, just now? Franc's speed had abruptly increased partway through. Come to think of it, he had let it pass without a thought, all his attention poured into killing the fox, but when he had first clashed with it, the fox's speed had slowed, hadn't it?

On a sudden impulse he checked his remaining Phase Power, and found the number had dropped to 130.

Huh? He'd burned through 350 in less than a minute?

"......Agh! Ah—aigoo, my arms, my legs..."

The moment he moved, a sharp pain lanced through his arms, his legs, his waist, and before he knew it he had dropped the claw-knife and collapsed to a sit. The muscles of his limbs trembled, and his waist throbbed.

He groaned and pounded his lower back, and Franc erased her smile and looked at him with worry in her face.

"Ugh..."

What was this? Muscle pain, out of nowhere?

......Was this the aftereffect of fighting while moving as Analysis directed? He hadn't been like this against the big field rat or the snout-wolf, so maybe that was it.

"I'm fine. I used muscles I don't usually use, so they got a shock. If I circulate Phase Power and raise my healing, it'll be better soon."

He reassured Franc, who was anxiously checking him over, picked up the claw-knife and the horn awl again, and looked at the two-tailed fox, dead with its waist severed.

......The reason he had used so much Phase Power in close combat seemed, if anything, to lie in that feeling of time's flow having slowed.

Certainly he had circulated Phase Power through his whole body to raise his physical ability while moving as Analysis directed, but the rate of consumption for that was by no means high. Enough to maintain comfortably for about thirty minutes.

Of course, tension had made him overconsume; that tendency wasn't absent... but the point was, it wasn't the sort of thing that would burn 300 Phase Power in a minute.

So there was only one reason. That feeling of time's flow slowing was the cause.

The moment he tried to find why the slow-motion phenomenon had occurred, Phase Power surged from the fox's corpse like a wave and spread outward in ripples.

"Huh?"

And in answer to that ripple, the orbs of light orbiting him began to pour out a radiance bright enough to see with the naked eye.

The instant he saw it, he knew.

They were going back.

Home.

Seven orbs of light, blazing so bright they hid him from sight. Franc's eyes changed as well, and she gazed without end at the dazzling light, tears falling, drop by drop.

He said it as he set a hand on her slender shoulder, she who was weeping with the weight of long feeling, and Franc, face wet with crying, gave him a small smile that had nothing arranged about it.

Then came a dizziness, body and mind alike sucked toward a single point, like the drop of a roller coaster. Afraid his legs would give out if he slackened, he locked strength into both of them—and in that instant the world around him began to stretch, violently.

A white flash burst.

Light too fierce to open his eyes against covered him and Franc both.

The Supergiant Turtle—the being to whom Jung Seoha had given that name—felt his presence vanish from the same space, together with the sensation of space rippling, ever so slightly.

It turned its gaze toward the direction where he had existed until a moment ago.

All that could be seen was water, and the trees rising above that water—and yet those eyes, as if they held the cosmos, had been following Jung Seoha all the while.

Shiiiiik.

From its own foreleg, dozens of miles below, came the metallic hiss of a serpent, but the Supergiant Turtle did not so much as turn its head.

Shii! Shiiiiik!

Shiiiiiiik!

Shiiik......

Shiiii.

At that short metallic sound, resentful and wounded in its pride, the Supergiant Turtle lifted its mountain-sized foreleg just slightly—and the Rogue Imugi, its entire body pinned save for the head, shuddered as if in a fit and began, little by little, to move its long length.

Shiiiii. Shiik. Shiit.

At the Imugi's sound, like a sulk, the Supergiant Turtle quietly closed its eyes.

If only he would pay a little more mind...... a futile hope, surely.

Across the retinas of those closed eyes, a faint image of the future flickered past.

An unfixed future, witnessed for the first time.

The future was immutable history—and yet the moment he appeared, the future of this world became mutable history.

The Imugi glared at the Supergiant Turtle, standing with its eyes closed, upright like a pillar of the world.

That one possessed a standing equal to the One of the Great Sea whom the Imugi served, and yet this, it thought, was an abuse of power...... no. An overstepping of authority.

The right to stop its actions belonged to that One alone......

It thought so for a moment, and then the Imugi put away its complaining gaze and began to slither toward its nest in the mountain range.

Having put some distance between itself and the cliff, the Imugi turned its head and looked up at the Supergiant Turtle's head, rising past the clouds to the very end of the sky.

Shii.

......Shiit.

At the Supergiant Turtle's answerless response, the Imugi flicked its tongue, as if all the wind had gone out of it.

It regretted, just slightly, that it had been wrong to covet out of curiosity a Phase Stone that had felt different from the rest...... and then decided to forget. Instead, it resolved that the next time they met, it would not act so softly as it had this time.

Not knowing that the lesser choice it had made—unwilling to soak its body in filthy water—had already become a future closing around its own throat.