Lipsberg University of Technology
The return trip was smooth in a way the outward journey had never been.
The sea parted for us right on schedule, and the land remained quiet, without any of the usual uproar.
Two days of cutting through calm waters, four more after reaching the port city and changing transport.
It was hard to believe this was the same road that had left me suffering for a little over half a month.
“Haa.”
I leaned against the railing, which trembled with a faint vibration under my weight.
All around me, the world was spread wide and bare, with no distinct forests or hills in sight. Wild grass was the only thing sprouting from the wasteland, and the barren expanse stretched endlessly in every direction.
We were now at the far edge of the wasteland, heading toward Lipsberg—the city I had left behind.
The enormous vessel cut through the wasteland at a steady pace, moving slowly but relentlessly onward.
The landship I was riding on carried both cargo and passengers, sailing across the desolation that filled the space between cities.
It was the height of inefficiency, but there was no helping it.
Crossing the wasteland on foot or with a small vehicle was a mad idea.
Drifting dust, brutal terrain, the calamities that struck without warning, gates, stray Origin Species…
To protect cargo and people alike while still making progress, you needed a massive ship.
A great vessel that could carve its way across the harsh earth.
“And my arm still looks like this.”
It was a pointless mutter to myself.
I lifted my eyes toward the wind blowing in from the opposite side. There was hardly any moisture in it.
Every so often, a faint breeze would sweep past with the smell of grass tangled into it.
A purification tower, cleansing the wasteland of its polluted dust, slipped behind me along with that distant landscape. As I made my way back to a city that had become even more familiar than my hometown, my thoughts began to wander backward.
I mean the things that had happened lately.
After spending a week unconscious and then another week recovering my senses in the hospital in Nordfjord, I was finally discharged.
It seemed no one had thought my connection to the Gate of Yggdrasil was relevant.
Despite how tightly wound I’d been, the only people who came to see me were the nurse who checked on me regularly and the professor, who dropped by irregularly.
I could understand it.
If I had been an outsider and didn’t know the details, I wouldn’t have guessed there was any link, either.
So that week had been a quiet one, a time for still reflection.
Who I was, what waited ahead, what I was supposed to do, what resources I had at hand, and how much time had been granted to me—those kinds of questions.
Some had easy answers. Others remained uncertain. A few were questions I couldn’t answer at all.
And among them were questions that no one knew the answer to.
“Professor… did you bring me to the hospital?”
“The first time I saw you was here.”
“…”
Then who had?
I knew instinctively this was a problem I could think over and over without ever arriving at an answer.
In that case, there was no reason to force a solution right away. I set the matter aside for later.
More than that—
The professor’s way of speaking had something almost like a soliloquy to it.
Morning, noon, evening. At all hours, without warning, the strange little girl would appear, and in that short span of time she had become something of a local celebrity at Nordfjord Public Hospital.
The girl-faced professor seemed to take great delight in the looks of curiosity and bewilderment she drew from everyone.
And it was the same when she talked to me.
“Everyone keeps staring at me like I’m some kind of weirdo, and I have no idea why.”
“Ha.”
She enjoyed this even though she knew exactly why.
When my expression on the hospital bed grew strange, her smile deepened just a little more, as if she found even that amusing.
Honestly, I didn’t mind.
The hospital was lonely.
Like I said, the only people who came to see me were the doctor and nurses doing their rounds, and the professor who would suddenly open the door and walk in.
In other words, I didn’t have much to occupy my time.
As far as news from Nordfjord went, it was only ever the same two things day after day: the mysterious tree-shaped apparition and the great fire. Beyond that, there were articles about tungsten market trends, the temporary aid ordinance passed by the city council, and the occasional vague report about countermeasures.
Even reviewing blueprints and old papers was, for the most part, something I’d done long ago.
So of course I was glad to have someone visit.
“Still, a university.”
It felt strangely unreal.
If I had to pick the period of my life that felt most distinct, it would have been my university years.
An age too young to keep a lid on the heat rising in your head, too young to restrain the impulses that surged through the body from the extremities inward.
A vivid passion that let you throw yourself wholly into one thing without worrying about anything else.
Emotions that had no choice but to show themselves plainly.
Those were the days when I would fall asleep each night with expectations and anxiety tangled together, unable to know what was coiled ahead of me in the world, or in front of me.
That was why I hadn’t understood, or even imagined, just how unfortunate my circumstances would be at that time.
Even when I thought I had adapted completely to this body, a foreignness would rise from some corner of my mind and tickle at my chest.
Whenever my consciousness briefly looked down upon my own body, that sense of incompatibility would drift at the edge of me like a slight fever and then disappear.
I’d catch myself wondering if I shouldn’t be adjusting this easily, and then find myself too readily seized by movements finer than a man’s body ever allowed, by a subconscious that didn’t originally belong to me.
There wasn’t much else that came to mind. I tried to end my thoughts with a sigh.
“Justina.”
The sound of leather soles striking the floor.
My consciousness returned as though clouds had parting.
From the doorway at the edge of my vision, a pale-gold girl walked toward me.
The wind stirred the tips of her hair. She raised a hand and smoothed back the stray strands, as if they were bothering her.
The smile beneath that hand faltered for a moment, then returned.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was just walking, and somehow ended up here.”
I’d walked because I was thinking, and by the time I realized it, I’d come all the way up to the topmost level of the landship.
Perhaps she caught the gist of it without needing an explanation, because she gave an easy nod.
At some point, she’d wound the end of her side hair around the tip of her left index finger. It was purely unconscious.
When the wind picked up again, she let the strands slip free. Released from her fingers, her hair floated lightly on the breeze.
“When we get back, you’ll have a lot to do. That includes treating your arm.”
“Didn’t you say treatment was impossible?”
“I said there wasn’t a way right now.”
At that, my gaze shifted slightly.
The end of a bandage was just visible beneath the cuff of my white shirt.
The fresh wrap that had been applied before I left the hospital was still blindingly white.
Suddenly, I remembered my right arm as it had looked when the bandages were changed.
No matter what, I couldn’t bring myself to look at it with my eyes open, so I had only managed to catch a whiff of it.
The smell was unmistakable. Just from that, it was easy to imagine what lay beneath.
The stench of dead tissue rotting as it fell away, and the thick, wet smell of seepage rising from between it all, layered over my right arm.
That complicated odor had mixed with the sharp medicinal scent of the tray brought into the room, turning into something that made my skin crawl.
I found it hard to believe the doctor’s words that I would be fine and that this would only happen once.
“You’re not surprised.”
“I told you already. I’m going to do whatever I can.”
Even then, and even now, my thoughts were the same.
I didn’t think I’d lose the use of my right arm forever. I only figured I’d have to endure for a while—maybe for quite a long while.
“Oddly enough, you really do resemble him, down to that reckless streak.”
There was no malice in her voice. I let out a weak laugh.
For a moment, I thought about what had been loaded into the cargo hold.
Three suitcases. One belonged to Professor Jernefelt, and the other two were mine.
One of mine had been newly bought because my luggage had grown.
It wasn’t as if I had failed to pack properly.
On the contrary, my original baggage had dwindled sharply.
I’d had to throw away the clothes that were no longer usable.
And into the spaces emptied by clothes I’d discarded before I’d even grown used to them, and would never grow used to again, I’d put the things I’d salvaged.
Things pulled from the ruins that had once been my home.
Old books that had somehow miraculously held their shape, a few remaining paper photographs, unprocessed gemstones, and rune stones.
I had tried to take nearly everything that could be held in my hands, everything that could be scratched and felt.
It wasn’t only because of memories or lingering attachment.
I had the right—and the responsibility—to inherit my parents’ knowledge and build upon it.
Maybe it was regret from the past, too.
…
No, I still didn’t know. Thoughts again. This time I would finish them for good, I told myself, shaking my head. Just then, the intercom came to life over the ship.
“Attention passengers. Our vessel will arrive at Lipsberg First Harbor in three hours. Please prepare for disembarkation.”
Ah, I see.
I turned my head toward the bow of the landship, letting the wind meet me head-on.
A gray line stretched across the horizon, wavering faintly in the heat haze.
It was so far away that I could hardly tell where the earth ended and the wall began, but one thing was certain.
“Welcome to Lipsberg, the city of linden trees and learning.”
I was home.
Truly, after so long.
My heart gave a sudden, eager thud.