True Identity
The dragon. Or, if you prefer, the wyrm.
The race of truth that has mastered every magic there is.
Their power is mighty and merciless enough to hurl mountains, and no spell exists in this world that they do not know.
They are said to be the one and only race capable of conversing with mana, and even the words they speak are steeped in magic—each utterance a phenomenon unto itself.
Even the ground they pass over can become a destination for sightseers, and their nests, called lairs, are said to be lined with the jewels and gold coins of the entire world.
And yet they are never friendly toward humankind, nor toward any other race—for they are supremacists even worse than the elves.
Arrogant, haughty, and utterly singular. Their infamous tempers, too, are yet another factor not to be taken lightly.
They are beings who spare not a single thought for anything beyond themselves, and the people and villages that have vanished as their mere play or amusement are by no means few.
And among them, the dragons who have claimed the most lives are granted a title—an epithet.
A dragon capable of bringing a nation to ruin all on its own is branded a Bane.
A dragon that preys upon innocent lives without reason or cause is branded Evil.
And the dragon most resented and cursed by the people is branded a Devil.
And the name that encompasses them all—those who summon calamity wherever they go—was Annihilation.
Every hair on my body stood on end. Even nerves that had gone dead came back to life, screaming their warnings at me. Run.Stay here, and you die. My whole body howled at me to put distance between myself and that being—now, this instant.
Her small foot took a single step toward me, and in that same breath my knees were driven into the ground, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. And with it came a countless host of presences that had not been there a moment before—fearsome, unsettling energies blanketing her without a single gap, as if they and she were one and the same. They did not feel like something she wielded. They felt like something pouring out of her.
"What, you're not even fainting? Got a little more spine than you look like you would, huh?"
"Haah... hck... haaah..."
"You don't even look all that strong, though..."
"..."
"Hmm... I can't say I like you much... but you might be worth something, at least."
Before I knew it she was at my side, and when she laid her hand on my head, my body mended as if by magic—whole and unmarked, as though nothing had ever happened. Her elongated pupils had already shrunk back to short, blunt rounds, and her ash-gray hair, which had been whipping about of its own accord, simply spilled back down over her shoulders.
With the tension draining away all at once, ragged breaths tore out of my throat unbidden, and she looked down at me without so much as a twitch.
"Hoo... haa..."
"Feeling like revering me yet? And how does it feel, finally knowing what I am?"
"...Not great... ugh."
"Don't go thrashing around like that. Your body's in worse shape than you think."
"I'm well aware of tha—... urk."
"No—not the body you're looking at right now. Your body out there, in reality."
Her finger touched my forehead, and in the same instant the strength left my arms entirely, leaving them to hang limp at my sides.
"Wh-what is this—"
"Entering the Mindscape means one of two things."
"..."
"Either you possess mental strength and power enough to force open this place's door and walk in of your own will."
The finger that had been pointing at her own chest did not stop there; it swung around to point at me.
"Or your body is dying—or the pain has grown so great your consciousness can no longer bear it—and you drift here, half-unconscious, by pure chance."
"..."
"Honestly, you surprised me too. It's been hundreds of years since I last saw the latter."
At some point her voice had stopped coming from in front of me and started coming from behind. She took my limp arms in her hands and swung them this way and that.
"Well, I did take a few measures, but at best they're temporary. Before long, you won't be able to hold your own body up."
"..."
My arms twisted this way and that as she swung them, weaving over and under one another like strands of rope being braided together. Every so often came the crack of a breaking bone—and yet, strangely, there was no pain. No—there was nothing at all. It was as if sensation itself had been erased from my arms. I felt no pressure where her fingers pressed, my joints did not scream as they bent the wrong way, and if anything, an odd sense of comfort even settled over me.
"...Well, that should do. You can grit your teeth through the rest yourself."
"...?"
"There."
"Ugh... AAAAAGH!!!"
Before long, her grip on my arms slowly loosened, and the instant her hands let go, excruciating pain came flooding in. The pain of the broken bones themselves was not as bad as I had expected—it was something else that tore through me. The feeling of countless needles pushing up from within, piercing through my skin and bursting outward. A creeping, crawling agony, equal parts pain and terror, wound its way up both my arms.
"Ughaah... ah..."
"Endure it. I'm reattaching the nerves you ruined."
"..."
"Don't understand what I'm saying? You abused your body that badly and expected it to come out fine?"
"..."
"Do you have any idea what state you were in when I first laid eyes on you?"
Internal bleeding from nearly every part of my body. Burst blood vessels in both eyes. Every bone in my forcibly driven limbs twisted out of true. Corrosion gnawing away at wound after wound. She recited the state of my body like a litany.
"Saying you were half corpse already would have been underselling it."
"Ugh... ughh..."
"Anyway, that's my point—endure it, because I'm forcibly regenerating and stitching back together what nerves I can."
"..."
"Glare all you like; it changes nothing. If I'd left you as you were, you would have been crippled beyond question."
"..."
"So just accept it gratefully and be done with it. It's for my sake too, after all."
"...?"
"Hm? What do I mean by that? For my sake, obviously."
She came toward me where I sat slumped on the floor, barely managing to keep my head up, then knelt down in front of me until our eyes were level. Extending one small, slender finger, she pointed at herself, then at me, then back again.
"...?"
And she said it with a bright, beaming smile—said the one thing in this world that was not the least bit funny.
"Greetings, O beautiful flower of the elves. I am called Azakh, and I hold the post of Minister of Foreign Affairs for the Empire."
"...A pleasure. May the blessing of the Great Forest rest upon you. As you well know, I am the princess of the elves."
While Jenison lingered deep within the Mindscape, the work of recovery outside was still in full swing. The treatment of the wounded had yet to end, and the shattered, ravaged forest and villages alike were in need of rebuilding.
They filled in the earth where the impacts had gouged it deep, cleared away the trunks of trees torn up by the root, and pried free the boulders that had flown far and buried themselves in the distance. Work like this posed no difficulty—no, if anything it came easily. The small things could all be settled with magic, and for the tasks too great for any one pair of hands, the spirits themselves stepped forward to help.
"Hmm... the situation is even more serious than I anticipated."
"Yes. The imperials you sent have been less than helpful."
And yet Sylvia, who now stood receiving those imperials, was in a foul mood. Through the endless restoration and reconstruction of the Great Forest she had endured without a single moment of sleep. She had no wish to show weakness before those who followed her—and with even those weaker than herself laboring so diligently, she could not be the only one to rest.
"...Ahem. Still, Your Highness, you look quite exhausted. Perhaps we might withdraw, so as not to impose further..."
"An imposition it was—barging in unannounced, insisting you had to see the situation with your own eyes. That much rudeness is beyond dispute, so think nothing of it."
"...Haha. We are, of course, deeply sorry for that."
But that did not mean her time was overflowing. At the very least, she had none to spare for entertaining imperials who had stormed in without so much as a warning.
"Get to the matter at hand. Only that. For what reason have you come all this way?"
"...Haha. Naturally, the relations between our Empire and the Great Forest—"
"You would do well not to lie—if you hope my patience with you has not yet run dry."
And so Sylvia did not circle the matter. She needed to go to the aid of the rest of her kin a single hour sooner if she could manage it. She had no time to waste trading words with the old man before her, who stroked his pink beard again and again to hide what lay beneath.
Perhaps he grasped at last that her words were no bluff, for the man cleared his throat once more and let his expression harden.
"Your Highness. Might I ask you to send the others out for a time?"
"...Very well."
"Y-Your Highness?!"
"Your Highness, alone with a human—!"
At a single look from her—one that brooked no reversal—the elves who guarded her and the knights attending the man began slowly filing out of the barracks, until at last everyone had gone and only two remained inside: Sylvia, and the man called Azakh.
"Since you desire only the matter at hand, I shall explain without further preamble."
"...Yes. Go on, then. Let's hear it."
No matter how grave a face the man before her put on, she felt little interest. She wished only to leave this place as quickly as it could be managed and lend her strength to the Great Forest's rebuilding.
"I have a suspicion as to the identity of those who attacked the Great Forest."
"...!"
"N-now, wait a moment—please, calm yourself—"
But that thought was cast aside almost at once, for words had left his mouth that could not be ignored. By the time she came back to her senses, an ice crystal was already trained on his throat, and tree roots had risen from the earth to bind him fast—all while sealing shut the barracks' only entrance.
"...Speak. And speak plainly."
"...W-well, I understand your agitation, of course... but might you not calm yourself just a little first..."
"..."
The ice vanished, and the roots that had bound him sank back into the earth. The entrance to the barracks remained sealed, but neither of them spared it a thought.
"...I would advise you not to lie."
"And how would lying serve my safety, in this position?"
For the conversation about to begin was far too momentous for such trifles to matter.