We Are the Ancestors of This Land
A wasteland where time itself had twisted.
The Cartadia of the future, where the Angolo Outpost now stood, was swept by a chill sand-laden wind.
In the midst of it, Melchior — goggles and mask in place — gazed up at the cluster of stars floating overhead.
The beautiful constellations were identical to Cartadia's own, even after two hundred years.
"......"
Melchior's expedition currently used the ruins as their base of operations.
The site held many relics, and was believed to have once been a branch of the Association. The ruins sat on elevated ground with a commanding view of the wasteland. Much of the building was broken and collapsed, making it dangerous — but to uncover the secrets of two hundred years hence, such fears had to be overcome.
The royal scribe Biopia stood beside the prince.
"Your Highness."
Melchior briefly lifted his goggles to look at her.
"What is it?"
"You seem terribly distressed."
Melchior blinked.
"......Do I look that way?"
Biopia nodded firmly.
"Yes."
"You're right."
A wretched future. His own ambitions. Everything pressed down on Melchior's chest at once. As a prince of this kingdom — of Cartadia — he had begun to wonder whether he himself might have played a part in its destruction.
"How do we change this future?"
Biopia had no answer. All of this was surreal. A mere scribe's mind could never reach a conclusion. Of course, Melchior hadn't expected one. It was only self-mockery.
"If I become king, will this future change? Or rather — is it because I became king that Cartadia turned out this way? Then is Adelaide becoming king the best path? Or would Diego on the throne be the right choice?"
"Your Highness, thoughts like that..."
"What actions of ours contributed to this future?"
Knowing the end was ruin, Melchior dared not take a step. He still wanted the throne — and yet he also wanted to pass it to his younger siblings. But which of those choices would lead to the correct future? Melchior could not decide.
Biopia chewed on her words before finally speaking.
"......It's still a long way off."
"Yes. Two hundred years is certainly far. Even if I lived another life after dying, I wouldn't live to see the fall. And yet — is it not right beneath our feet this very moment?"
Melchior crushed the sand underfoot. His footprint pressed deep into the sandy ground.
"How did the royal family let things come to this..."
Melchior clenched his fist.
The continuity of the nation was what everyone desired. It was the royal family's promise, founded on the safety of all, and the guiding star of whoever ascended the throne. And the result of that was a dead land with not a single living thing?
Melchior muttered under his breath.
"This expedition... I don't want to see any more of it..."
"Your Highness!"
Biopia suddenly raised her voice and called out to him.
"How long are you going to stay like this? Standing around accomplishes nothing. And it doesn't suit you. Putting on airs like you know everything when you actually know nothing — isn't that exactly who you are, Your Highness?"
"......Biopia."
"We clearly know nothing. Why this happened. What took place. So no matter how much we don't want to look, we have a responsibility to witness all of it with our own eyes."
Biopia's appeal restored the light to Melchior's dulled eyes.
"Because we are the ancestors of this land."
Yes.
Melchior blinked. Surely the appearance of this wasteland was no coincidence. One way or another, they had to witness everything. Whatever the reason for its appearance, this was an opportunity. A chance to prevent the same future from arriving.
Melchior pushed his goggles up onto his forehead and looked at Biopia with clear eyes.
"Biopia. You're right."
"Your Highness..."
"But what was that you just said? Putting on airs... what?"
"Oh come on, can't we just let that slide? Honestly, it was true."
"You little—"
Melchior's eyes went wide, then he let the tension go.
"Fine. Whatever."
"Oh, he's actually letting it go."
"......"
"I'm joking, joking. I'm deeply moved in real time by Your Highness's ocean-wide generosity. Sniffle—"
Should I just hit her once?
Biopia really had only said true things. Yes — she'd carefully selected the words that would get her thoroughly beaten. Melchior looked at Biopia, who was pretending to cry, with cold eyes. He wasn't even angry. Just dumbfounded.
Melchior waved her off.
"Enough. Stop acting and give me the report."
"Yes, sir. Understood."
The two talked as they returned to the temporary base.
"......As expected, the subject of that statue appears to be Hunter Alice. It's coming up at the Association."
"Is that so. For example?"
"A portrait on the Master Hunter roster, among other things."
"......Master Hunter, is it."
Melchior let out a short laugh.
"What an interesting fate."
"It was inevitable, I suppose. A talent that can't be hidden, right?"
Her talent was so exceptional that even after being swept into the past, she had found her rightful place again.
"The subjugation list is impressive too. Everything from all sorts of high-grade monsters to Steel — absolutely dazzling."
The Fire Serpent. Steel. The serpent wreathed in flame was a mythical monster that could melt anything.
Melchior blinked at Biopia's words.
"Steel actually existed?!"
Biopia nodded.
"It seems to be beyond the sea."
Beyond the sea. Melchior touched the corner of his mouth.
"Good to know. A monster from beyond the sea. Far beyond our reach for now. Stabilizing the inland regions is still our priority."
Had their descendants two hundred years later extended their reach to the sea? Melchior felt something swell in his chest.
"Then Steel isn't the cause of the destruction."
"No, not for the time being."
"...I see."
"There may be other accounts somewhere."
Biopia tilted her head as she spoke.
"But why has Hunter Alice stayed quiet about all this until now?"
"Who knows."
A cold wind blew. The sand on the ground rose like pale smoke.
"There must be some problem."
"Right."
"Hmm."
She might act as if she didn't know, but she could well be aware. Melchior fretted, touching the corner of his mouth. There was clearly some circumstance she couldn't speak of. What it was, he had no idea.
At last Melchior spoke.
"Even if she knew, she couldn't have said it easily."
Who would readily believe someone claiming to be from the future? She would have had to live alone in this world, completely isolated, knowing no one.
Melchior tried to understand Alice. Then he shook his head. Crossing time was something no one could understand unless they had experienced it themselves.
"Still. She's an extraordinary hunter, isn't she?"
Melchior smiled faintly.
"In a hopeless situation, she keeps showing her own path without wavering."
Holding one's ground no matter the circumstances was the hardest thing of all. Even Melchior found working in this land as a prince somewhat taxing — how much harder must it be for Alice, still living as a hunter in a place where time and space had both been overturned?
Melchior held Alice in high regard.
"Isn't she the one who can resolve all of this?"
"......Not necessarily. Everyone is contributing their strength. It'll be solved by the combined efforts of everyone, including Hunter Alice. The royal army and the hunters, united as one."
Melchior was impressed by Biopia's words.
"That's a rather fine thing to say."
"Isn't it? The night brings out the sentimentality."
"Yes, you really are perfectly suited to being a scribe. That earlier incident included."
"Please forgive me for that. I shall follow you with faith, Your Highness."
Biopia grinned and bowed and scraped. Melchior let out a short sigh looking at her.
Suddenly, someone appeared before the two of them. Like Biopia and Melchior, the figure wore goggles and a mask — and from the attire, it was a female hunter.
The female hunter removed her goggles and spoke.
"Your Highness."
The hunter who revealed her face was Noah. Noah peeled the stifling goggles and mask from her face and exhaled sharply.
Melchior acknowledged her.
"Ah, Hunter Noah."
"Thank you for remembering me."
"Of course I remember. You're the one who informed us that this place is the Cartadia of the future."
Noah scratched the back of her head, looking awkward at Melchior's words.
"So what is it? If you've been exploring until now, go back and rest."
"......I have something important to discuss."
"Very well. Let's hear it."
Noah hesitated, then spoke.
"Regarding Alice — I believe you've come to understand a little by now."
Melchior was silent for a moment, then tilted his head.
"......You speak as if you already knew."
"Yes. I knew."
Noah nodded.
"I saw a statue of her elsewhere."
"I see. Did Alice herself not reveal her identity? Is there nothing more you know?"
"You'd want to know. I did too..."
Noah hesitated a little. Then, with a resolute expression, she tapped her forehead with a finger.
"But Alice has no memories. She doesn't."
"......She lost her memories?"
"That must be it."
Noah clenched her fist.
"Even after losing her memories, Alice never forgot how to kill monsters. That was how we first met."
"......Yes, there were rumors about that."
The Slaughterer. A hunter who slaughtered monsters without end. And the story that she was a victim of the Anomalies. They had been mere rumors — but in the end, all of them were true.
Among the Anomalies that twisted time, she was likely the greatest victim of all. Perhaps a directionless rage had remained in her body even without her memories, and driven Alice forward.
"The reason I came... is that I'd prefer you not bring any of this up with Alice."
"I see."
If she knew nothing, there was nothing to share.
"Alice is still working hard, after all."
Bringing it up would only make miserable the Alice who was living so earnestly in the present.
"......Then we must do our part."
Melchior could not simply leave it alone.
"We find Alice's traces. We search for the traces of the future and gather them together."
Because Alice, one way or another, was a citizen of Cartadia. Then wasn't finding the traces of the memories Alice had lost also something they ought to do in this wasteland?
That was what Melchior thought.