Untying the Knotted Thread
Edel arrived on Earth by following the torn path that ran between dimensions.
She already knew that there were countless gods besides herself, and that there were just as many worlds, diverse beyond imagining.
Even so, when she first took in the shape of Earth, she couldn’t help but stare in awe.
It was a world utterly unlike Silia, the one she had created.
It wasn’t that she felt inferior. She had simply been astonished that the difference could be so great.
With help from Earth’s god, Edel quickly learned the ways of the world.
For a human, even centuries or millennia might not have been enough. For Edel, though, it hadn’t taken nearly that long.
Once she felt she knew enough, Edel realized something.
This is going to be rough.
Earth’s weapons were certainly powerful.
But if you asked whether they would actually work against Dimensional Beasts, the answer was doubtful.
Even if there were bombs that could turn an entire region into a sea of fire, they couldn’t simply be dropped on a city packed with people.
Fine, suppose you bent the rules and did it once or twice. If you repeated that every time a Dimensional Beast appeared, humanity would be wiped out faster than the beasts themselves.
What kind of idiocy was it, to let the very means of protecting the world become the thing that ruined it?
And even setting that aside, Earth’s weapons were still too weak to stop the invasion of Dimensional Beasts at its root.
So what was she supposed to do?
While Edel was thinking, something caught her eye.
Games.
More specifically, virtual-reality games—worlds fabricated for people to step into and enjoy.
The moment she saw them, it felt as though lightning had struck her head.
Lower the dimension into a game, and make Earth’s humans kill the Dimensional Beasts.
Let the players slaughter the beasts and weaken their power.
Of course, the only things they’d be able to kill would be the weaklings—the equivalent of minnows and little fish—but even that would buy them time.
After securing Earth’s god’s agreement, Edel got to work immediately.
First, she turned the Dimensional Beasts’ own power against them and created fictional dimensions severed from the world of Silia, abbreviated as “subdimensions.”
What happened inside these subdimensions had no effect whatsoever on the original dimension.
Even if a powerful monster was killed, even if someone from the world of Silia died.
The moment the subdimension disappeared, it was as if nothing had ever happened.
They looked like living creatures moving as though they were real, but they were nothing more than soulless shadows, merely copying the behavior of their originals.
This was the system known as an instance dungeon.
A subdimension was, quite literally, a virtual dimension.
But if nothing of value remained, there’d be no reason for players to enjoy it, so she made sure that items obtained within them and the experience earned there could be carried out intact.
Channels were another system created through dimensional severance, much like instance dungeons.
Edel had two major reasons for creating channels.
One was to prevent people from crowding together too much and losing interest.
The other was to deal an even greater blow to the Dimensional Beasts.
Ordinarily, nothing that happened in a subdimension could affect the original dimension.
But the Dimensional Beasts were, true to their name, creatures specialized in dimensions, and even things that happened in a subdimension could wound their true bodies.
Instance dungeons, channels, growth, classes, and more…
After creating every system a game needed, Edel looked over what she had made and let out a sigh.
…Well.
She hadn’t thought this would be enough to repel the Dimensional Beasts.
Still, she hoped it might buy some time.
Until the sword she had her eye on was sharpened to a deadly edge.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
“That’s how it happened.”
Those were Edel’s words, bringing the long story to an end.
She’d talked that long without taking even a sip of water.
Gods really were gods, I guess.
“I mean, thanks for admitting it, but that’s a pretty weird place to land.”
Edel looked at me as if I were being absurd, then spoke again in a voice lower and quieter than before.
“It’s not like I don’t care about my children’s lives. They’re my creations; of course I’d care. So I put in as many safety measures as I could, but… I couldn’t seal everything off completely.”
“Still, to them, it’s just a game.”
“But if I hadn’t done it this way, many more lives would have been lost.”
Far more lives than the ones taken by accidents caused by Earth’s people.
“Wasn’t there any other way? Like giving them temporary bodies, the way Apostles have, or putting the players only in subdimensions instead of the original dimension?”
“You think I didn’t consider that?”
Edel sounded as if she were making excuses, saying that this had been the best she could do after the world had already been chewed away so badly.
“Anyway… that’s how I created the subdimensions. But there’s one soul I couldn’t copy into a subdimension. Because it crossed the barrier of dimensions and endured the vortex, it became resistant to most dimensional pressure, so I couldn’t replicate it.”
You probably know who that soul belongs to, even if I don’t say it outright.
At her question-without-being-a-question, I nodded.
I wasn’t so stupid that I couldn’t understand even that much.
“So that means this dimension I’m in is the original one.”
“Yep. Correct.”
“...I get that. Then is the reason I sense something is off about the Apostles, unlike everyone else, because of my soul too?”
“You could say that. Your level of power plays a part too, of course, but even that level wouldn’t have been possible without the uniqueness of your soul. Still, I never imagined you’d grow strong enough that the filtering wouldn’t work at all—I was honestly shocked.”
“Filtering, huh…”
So that was it after all.
I’d thought it was strange that no one reacted to Daeun muttering to herself.
It wasn’t that nobody reacted. It was that they couldn’t react.
When they couldn’t even recognize that she was speaking—let alone hear her—how could they possibly answer?
“If I raise my level enough, can I get rid of the filtering?”
“You can’t get rid of it completely, but you can lessen its effect. In fact, children who are around your level should already be feeling that sense of unease.”
Children around my level.
At those words, a number of faces flashed through my mind.
Among the faces appearing and disappearing in rapid succession, one lingered far longer than the others.
…
I scrunched up my face.
My mood soured all at once, and to clear the face from my head, I changed the subject.
“So, if we don’t stop the Dimensional Beasts, Earth will be in danger too?”
“Why? Does hearing that the people you like will be in danger make you feel more motivated?”
“...That’s not it.”
If we don’t stop them, everyone dies, so it’s not like I have a choice.
That’s all.
Just like Edel had done earlier, I muttered the words as if I were making an excuse.
“Funny, weren’t you acting like you wouldn’t care if you died?”
“...Shut up.”
As I frowned, Edel gave a low laugh and said in a sly voice, “’I promise I won’t leave—’”
“...?!“
Wham!
I lunged at Edel and clapped a hand over her mouth.
Over the small palm covering her lips, I could still see the corners of her mouth curved into a bright, unmistakable smile.
“H-h-h-how...?”
“How what?”
“How do you know about that...!”
“Oh, that?”
Edel shrugged.
Unlike my insides, which were practically being roasted alive, she looked completely at ease.
“My power’s gotten weaker, so I can’t see everything, but I can still see what happens inside the Holy Kingdom. It’s my home turf, after all. I’d better be able to manage that much, don’t you think?”
...
“Ohhh, are you embarrassed? Puh-hahaha…! It was such a touching scene I nearly teared up myself!”
...Forget it.
“Hm? What was that?”
“Forget it, I said!!”
...Why are you even watching stuff like that!
I grabbed Edel by the shoulders and shook her hard.
But she paid no attention to the violent shaking at all, simply letting her body sway back and forth as she laughed in airy amusement.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Moonlight falling softly, and a girl beneath it.
If this had been the usual Daeun, she would have stared at the scene in a trance, lost in its dreamlike beauty—but not now.
Because she could feel that this moment would decide the fate of her bond with Kana.
Daeun faced Kana.
Kana faced Daeun.
Within time as vast as eternity, the girl’s lips parted slowly.
“...Dad was my whole life.”
With her body turned young, her sex changed, and a world she’d never seen before, everything in Kana’s childhood had been unfamiliar.
But Kana had never been given the luxury of time to adjust.
Her parents had seen Kana not as a person, but as a tool for making money, so she naturally received none of the love or care a child should have been given.
And after her parents died, things didn’t become any better.
The only difference was that there was no one left to work her to the bone; she still had to worry about surviving the day.
If she showed even the slightest displeasure after being hit with fists and kicks, even more violence would come her way.
If something good happened and she let it show, the hyenas might come running.
In that kind of situation, Kana’s hardened personality had been only natural.
To survive, Kana had learned to kill her feelings.
She buried the confusion brought on by her young body, her changed sex, and her unfamiliar world deep in the recesses of her heart.
And then, for the first time, someone reached out to her.
Warm words she had never heard before, warmth she had never felt before.
There was no need to say how much comfort those things gave to the little girl.
“I knew Dad wasn’t well.”
She knew it, but she still hoped.
She hoped for a miracle—that his health would recover, that he would live long and happily with her.
But Kana’s hope was brutally crushed.
As Garid’s health worsened day by day, he eventually left Kana’s side.
The little bird was left behind, bereft of her nest.
“...I’ve got nothing left.”
In the end, she was nothing but an impurity.
Every time she looked around and confirmed that there was no one else like her anywhere nearby, Kana felt it to her bones: she did not truly belong to this world.
If that was how it was, then she wouldn’t even leave behind a shred of regret.
She would stay unentangled with anyone, and when the end came, she would meet it at Garid’s side.
“...That’s what I thought.”
So why do you keep coming closer?
A single tear fell from the girl’s eyes.
Her expression didn’t move at all, and yet somehow that very stillness made her look even more heartbreaking.
Daeun, who had been listening in silence, slipped a hand into her own clothes.
When she drew it out, there was a flower resting in her palm.
“...?”
As Daeun approached Kana, she carefully tucked the flower into Kana’s hair.
Then she smiled gently at the girl, who was staring up in confusion, tears still spilling down her face.
“Mm. Yeah, it suits you.”
How could such a pretty girl not bother to dress herself up? It was practically a global tragedy.
Daeun nodded with satisfaction and said, “You asked why I keep coming toward you, didn’t you?”
The answer was simple.
Because she liked Kana. Because she wanted to get close to her.
Because she wanted to take care of her like a little sister.
But even before that—
“Because Kana wanted it.”
“...I wanted it?”
“Yeah.”
What stood before Daeun now was not the empire’s nemesis, not a swordswoman who could cut down dozens of knights with a single stroke, not the worst raid boss of all.
It was a pitiful little child who didn’t even know her own heart.