56. A Letter from the Past
56. A Letter from the Past
A Savior must place the greater good above personal desire.
No matter how vivid last night felt, the day may come when I have to kill my own heart.
Even if I can never forget him, perhaps I was always fated to lock those feelings away someday.
My child. Before I write what I wish to say, let me first tell you the story of my birth.
In this moment of unearthing the ancestor's prophecy.
Something faint but unmistakable—something you might call hope—began to stir in the heart of the prophet who had been steeling herself to accept it.
As you know, my birth came from the union of my human father and a being one could call a god—one who descended upon this land to bring about its destruction.
Why she who came from beyond chose to bind herself to my father... even I cannot truly claim to know my mother's heart.
Though half my blood was that of a god, my life was no different from my father's—a human life.
And because my perspective never strayed beyond human bounds, any understanding I have of my mother is, at best, mere speculation.
True, the records he left behind had been preserved by the tribe all the way to the present day, but the overwhelming majority concerned prophecies.
In all of them, there was not a single word about why the God of Destruction bound herself to a human, or why she rejected her mission and ascended to the heavens.
Not because the records had been damaged, but because it had been left out deliberately.
A prophet, mere human even with a god's blood, would never have dared presume to fathom a god's heart.
And yet, you, the last of our line, are no doubt weighed down now, agonizing beneath the burden of mission.
In every moment you wonder how to steer the future that lies ahead—and I, who prophesied the very calamity that set this in motion, must bear that responsibility.
So, my child, let me use this letter to set down my guesses—for they are only guesses—based on what I observed of my mother.
My thoughts on why my mother descended to this land to bind herself with a human, and why, instead of completing her mission with her own hands, she departed for the heavens.
"......."
In the silence, a tension creeping in.
Her future self—who must have felt exactly as she did now—turned the page of the translated letter.
My mother left this world when I was very young, so I have almost no memories of her. But as I grew older and awakened to my power, I gained the ability to look back not only upon the future but upon my own past as well.
And when I looked back upon that past, one of the things that caught my attention was what my mother, the one who gave birth to me, said the moment I was born.
Yes. The Apostle of Destruction looked down upon the life she had shaped within her own body, and she said this.
'Child who has inherited my blood. Please, teach me where to draw the line of calamity I must bring to this land—teach me the measure of destruction.'
"...The measure of, destruction?"
The measure of destruction.
Was destruction not meant to be the absolute end of all things?
For her, the God of Destruction, surely the natural answer was to shatter everything in sight for the sake of ruin.
And yet everyone believed she had ascended to the heavens because, when an age of chaos descended upon this world millennia later, she deemed there was no longer any need to destroy it herself....
I deliberately chose not to record my mother's words, because any opinion lacking a clear standard will inevitably be interpreted differently by different minds.
Some would call a world from which all humans like us have vanished 'destruction.' Others would say destruction means not only all sapient beings, but even the lowliest creatures and the very ground they walk upon have disappeared.
But then, if in that place where all else has turned to dust a few miraculously survive... if that small handful of survivors gains the chance to rebuild civilization, can that truly be called destruction?
As long as someone still lives within a fallen world, some might see a glimmer of hope. There are those who see the failure to save everything as destruction—and those who, by rising again after failure, treat past annihilation as though it never happened.
Then, is 'destruction' the state where not even that chance is granted? And by what standard is that chance itself measured?
No. In the first place, all those standards are nothing more than ones built around 'humanity.' And if that is the case, then what if my mother, the God of Destruction, had bound herself not to a human, but to a beast, or to some other sapient race? Would the standard of destruction then be set according to them?
Airi's expression grew steadily stiffer as the chain of thoughts she had never once considered unfolded before her.
Until now she had only focused vaguely on the fact that chaos had descended upon the world, and on stopping it.
Whether that meant the Demon Lord's army trampling humanity, holding back waves of living corpses, or a world annihilated together with them leaving nothing behind—was that what should be called destruction...?
She had come here simply to stop whatever might arrive. She had been wandering thoughtlessly, merely searching for someone who could prevent any future that might come.
When I looked back upon the past, I was able to feel, however faintly, the warmth of my mother's hand as she stroked me.
Though the memory itself is gone, her embrace was warm. The touch that caressed me was gentle.
That much was truth. And perhaps, just perhaps, those acts could be called love.
Even if my existence was nothing more than a means to draw the line of her mission—the line of destruction.
Precisely because she considered it so deeply, my mother must have wished for me—and for all her blood—to take root and live on in this land.
So that instead of blindly wreaking destruction as her name, the God of Destruction, might suggest, she could—in every moment spent watching over her descendants—seek the answer she had been searching for.
-Rustle.
The instant her future self's hand tightened on the translated letter.
Likewise, veins stood out on Airi's own hand as she laid it upon the crystal ball, and cold sweat began to bead across its surface.
My child. I did not wish for my mother's descendants to fight over such uncertain conjecture.
For if each of them lived their own lives and each set their own standard, the clash of those differing standards would inevitably give rise to conflict.
Conversely, if the path is chosen by a single representative entrusted with the future, then surely all who support that individual will show their respect for that choice.
From the very beginning.
She realized now, only now, that gathering everyone's strength from the tribe had been his intention all along.
My child. Ask yourself—you who are reading this letter.
Is the age you live in now truly marching toward destruction?
Yes. Not yet.
Just as he said, it was still in progress. The end had not yet come.
Even if it feels as though it is heading toward destruction, so long as the moment of destruction has not arrived, the chance remains.
At least up until the time period she herself had prophesied, nothing called destruction had yet existed.
And even if such a thing had occurred, she had already evaded it once before.
To speak of destruction and salvation before a clear standard has been set—that is arrogance.
So if the chance remains, then set the mission aside. Set out on a journey to find that line.
Travel the world, weigh what everyone calls justice against your own convictions, and establish the standard you yourself are willing to accept.
And when you, as the representative of our descendants, have set that standard of your own, then build the world around what you must protect in this chaos-filled age.
And in every moment, let there be one thing you never forget.
Know that even now, as I write this letter—as my descendants take root in this land—and now, as you read this letter, you who are both its result and a new present... our mother is watching over us. She is showing us the future of this world.
"......."
That is all I wished to convey to you through this letter.
Please, do not be crushed beneath the mission I passed on to you. Treasure the chance you have now, and build your own convictions at your own pace. Grow.
Airi Heven.
To the descendant who likely bears that name—from the sin-laden ancestor who entrusted his fate to you.
"...Heh."
A soft, mirthless laugh slipped out after she finished reading the letter.
Airi, feeling a pang of empathy for the sentiments she knew her future self must have felt, looked down at the worn bundle of paper placed beside the crystal ball.
A thing so ruined by the flow of ages that its contents were barely recognizable.
And yet here it had reached her, across thousands of years, in this place, at this very moment—the ancestor's true heart.
"'Likely'? That's hardly a word a prophet should use, dear ancestor."
It was meant as a remark on certainty, but the very prophet who had to believe the future she saw would absolutely come to pass had deliberately chosen words that expressed uncertainty.
Even if the prophecy had been accurate, to bring that up at the very end—did that not mean he had no confidence in the words he had written?
'But why, then, does my heart grow lighter at advice founded on uncertainty?'
She understood the reason soon enough.
What breaks a person who longs for hope is, perhaps, the standard set by someone other than themselves.
So if one cannot bear the reality that everyone calls hopeless, then the right answer may be simply to look away from it.
"Yes, ancestor. Perhaps, as you say... we have been thinking about this far too heavily."
Whether that is right or wrong—if the time to know has not yet arrived.
Then perhaps even now, casting aside the standards defined by others and watching over a world not yet destroyed, building her own standard step by step—that was her true mission.
That was the very first attitude one who calls herself a Savior must possess.
"God of Destruction... no. Primordial Mother, who inscribed the name of Heven upon this land."
Airi, praying that this realization was not mistaken, quietly offered a prayer to the crystal ball before her.
To the Primordial Mother who even now granted her strength and showed the path toward the future.
"If there exists even a possibility that the one I wish to walk beside can be reborn as the Savior... I beg you, reveal a fragment of that future here and now."
Power poured out from her with more desperation than ever before. The crystal ball drank it in, and the radiance it cast began to fill the dark tent with brilliant light.
Of course, the future was not decided by her wish alone.
At most, it would only show her the path that this resolution—born from reading the letter—would influence. It would show her, right now, which direction those choices would lead.
But that alone would be more than enough to set her immediate course.
So long as she had even the faintest certainty that the future linking her to him would not be one she would regret.
-Haaahng~♡
And there it was. The familiar noise, as if in answer to her prayer.
The moment she recognized it, Airi felt relief pour through her—and at the same time, the bitter aftertaste she had briefly forgotten began creeping back in.
-Heh heh. Do you like it when I stir you here? Or like this?
-Aahnn~ Right there, so good~♡♡
Her future self was still entwined with him, still crying out in pleasure.
Even though she had been certain the act had cleanly concluded, her future self was, with no hint of difference from before, openly reveling in the act with him.
'It wasn't even under the influence of alcohol this time... what in the world does my future self do with him to end up...?'
No matter how good their relationship was, she had never wanted to fall apart like this.
Still, if she disliked this future, she could simply adjust things little by little. She had been just about to console herself with that thought—to be satisfied that the future with him still remained—when.
-Heh heh. Now, now, my children. You weren't thinking of leaving Mommy out, were you?
A sudden, unfamiliar voice rang out. Doubt flickered across Airi's face as she stared into the crystal ball.
"...Mommy?"
Mommy?
Her own mother had passed away when she was young. Had Mephisto barged in as some kind of prank?
No. There was no sign of her manifesting inside the crystal ball.
She too was a Transcendent, so it was possible she might reappear someday, but at present any future involving her had been excluded.
The one who had appeared now was not her, but 'another Transcendent' already entangled with him.
-Come here, little ones. It's time to eat~♡
Tasian Failoy.
A fallen legend who, before this world began its collapse long ago, had once sought to annihilate humanity.
-Nnnng, Mama...♡
And he burrowed his head under her clothes, making suckling sounds.
Her future self, having likewise buried her head on the other side, began making the same noises alongside him.
-Heh heh. Is it yummy, my daughter?
-Ish sho yummy, *nibble*, *nibble*~♡♡
"...Huh?"
What in the world.
Why was not only he, but she herself, babbling like a baby and suckling at the woman's breast atop the bed?
Could it be, like that time before, that she had lost her mind to drink?
Or had that single incident produced a butterfly effect, leading to this result in the far-flung future?
"...Why in the world?"
Of course, that woman was the worst of all Calamities—a being who posed a threat to annihilate humanity itself.
The fact that she had fallen so far must mean humanity was preserved. But the twisted future that had emerged was not something Airi could simply accept with grace either.
"What in the world happens in the future that keeps turning it into this?!"
What kind of future was the prophecy she had given him leading toward?
How was it that even a fallen legend who sought to annihilate the human race was reaching an outcome where she surrendered her body to him in this very moment?
***
Thus, after parting ways with Airi.
Following the prophecy written on the note she had left behind, I headed straight for Tachia's workshop.
Partly to pick up my armor, but also because her prophecy had said something even more important was waiting there.
"...Ah, you came?"
But when I arrived, what greeted me was a workshop hideously destroyed.
And Tachia's body, covered in blood and dust.
"Hey, Tachia. This spear..."
In a situation where anyone could tell something serious had happened, I held the spear that had flown at me from the wreckage and gave voice to my worry for Tachia.
To find out what in the world had happened here to leave the surroundings in this state.
And to find out why the Ego Weapon she had taken back with her had flown straight at me.
"Ah, yeah. That spear."
Tachia fixed her eyes on it and let out a short snort—*hmph.*
"You know what? I'll give you that spear. So let's make a contract."
The very words that had unmistakably appeared in Airi's prophecy.
Delivered in a voice more feverish than usual.
[When you go to receive your armor, that person will make you an offer—using the weapon you were so reluctant to part with.]
Yes. That was exactly what had been written on the first note Airi pressed into my hand.
It simply came in a slightly different form than I had imagined.
[Whatever reason follows, accept that offer from her without fail. Cutting off the dangers you will face from here begins with securing that weapon.]
Of course, this spear was an object worth trading everything except my life for.
Whatever the situation, if the prophecy was true, I had no choice but to accept Tachia's offer here and now.
"Yes. I'll accept."
But even so, what I really wanted to know right now wasn't something as trivial as the conditions for receiving this spear.
This Ego Weapon forged from mithril.
This weapon anyone would consider priceless—what meaning did it hold for her?
"Tachia, what is it you want from me?"
What I was really asking was what lay in those haggard eyes that now turned toward me after I had accepted.
Was that feeling in them, perhaps, what some would call hope?