The Power of the West Reborn (1)

How much time had passed?

The territory's army arrived to find the demon host all but annihilated. Drawing their swords from their belts, the soldiers began cutting down what demons still remained. Remnants was perhaps generous — there were still roughly a thousand of them — but once the demons realized I had killed a successor of the Four Perils and a supreme demon, fear swallowed them whole, and they shook where they stood, unable to move.

Every now and then, one would feign madness and lunge sword-first at me in my exhausted state — but each failed to withstand the attacks of Jeongryeong, who had been summoned at my side all along, and died for it. And so the demons simply trembled in place. They didn't even seem to have the will to move. That was why, even as the territory's army swung its blades at them now, they died without mounting so much as a single proper counterattack.

A man in armor, his helm adorned with a golden plume, came slowly toward us and lifted it away. It was Gerald — the commander who had sent us on ahead into the battle and led the rear detachment himself. Seeing us bleeding, he hurriedly gathered the healers.

"Healers! Is anyone there?!"

At his shout, I could see them rushing desperately toward us. When the healers took in our condition, they froze, unable to hide their alarm. Naturally. I couldn't move my body at all — drained by exhaustion and the backlash of my technique. Fairy had only just come to after fainting from Florence's assault. Ellie still hadn't woken, wounded while throwing herself over Fairy. Even Khan, who had seemed the least worse for wear, was a wreck — the side effects of unleashing his Authority, stacked on top of taking my pain into himself.

The mercy in all of it was that every injury lay within a healer's reach. If Ellie had still been carrying the Authority of Darkness when they arrived, there would have been nothing they could do. My own body had paid the price for preventing that — I was in an even more wretched state than before... but as long as she was alive, nothing else mattered.

In the end, the demons were put down without a hint of resistance. Buried in earth, they grew cold and crumbled into powder. And when the last of them died, only human corpses remained on the battlefield.

Five hundred dead. A thousand wounded. The reason fifteen hundred soldiers had beaten an army of six thousand was partly the ground itself — a defensive siege favors the defenders. But above all, there had been an exceptional commander. The Knight Commander who had trained the Crystal Territory's knights one by one, building its strength with his own hands. Beryl Topaz. Because of him, so few had been able to hold the line.

The surviving soldiers and knights, every last one of them, wept when word of Topaz's death reached them. Now that some healing had taken, we went out to survey the field's losses. To them, Topaz had been a father and a teacher. As it happened, his body was not hard to find — he knelt with his yellow-plumed sword planted in the earth, eyes closed. His final act in life told us everything of how much he, as Knight Commander, had wanted to protect this land.

Soldiers and knights, tears streaming down their faces, began to gather the dead. With painstaking care they straightened muscles gone rigid, removing armor so that only the light under-garments remained. And when the last of the heavy iron plates came away, a girl's voice rang out, calling for someone.

"Dad!!"

A girl with long black hair and golden eyes came to Topaz and wailed before his body.

"Get up! Get up, I said! You promised you'd come home alive! I told you I'd go in your place if it ever came to this...! Why? Dad...!"

As she wailed in grief, I simply watched her. Her name was Beryl Shichurin — a name Topaz had given her when he saw the eyes she was born with. Eyes like his own shining gold, and black hair that took after her mother. The last of his daughters, and the one he cherished most. Before her father's body she kept beating her chest and crying out.

I knew her name because in the game she had been someone of enormous consequence — a character who, depending on the choices the player made, could become a tremendously dependable ally.

She was nothing like Sion. She became something far more formidable — a machine that hunted demons, flaunting her strength. To her own side, humanity, she was unfailingly kind. To demons, merciless.

Of course, I never did learn by what path she came into such power. Sometimes a player who guarded her, protected her, and raised her up ended up with a character who couldn't pull her own weight. And just as often, a player who never spared her a single glance found she had climbed to the summit on sheer skill alone, cutting down everything in her path — a pillar of a person who would fell and smooth the boulders so that others had somewhere to plant their feet.

Setting all of that aside... it was heartbreaking. If I had come just a little sooner, neither she nor her father would ever have had reason to be parted by death. I know it wasn't my fault. But in the middle of that sorrow — two eyes, burning gold, turned on me. Shichurin stared at me, yellow flame searing in her gaze, and spoke.

"Why... didn't you come sooner... Dad sent you, I know he did...! Why! Why did it take you so long!!"

She began to wail at me the way Sion had, before her redemption. She knew, now, that I was not the cause. And still she raged at me, and the reason was a simple one: she wanted someone to blame — but the culprit who had made her father into that thing was already dead and gone. So of course all that pent-up grief and fury turned toward me, the one who had killed him. And still, I accepted her feelings in silence.

Because right now, she was sixteen. A third-year middle schooler by Earth's count. Gerald's face twisted, and he reached out to stop her as she kept spewing grief and rage at me — and it was my hand that checked his as it moved toward her. For now, let her pour it all out. My parents, who softened even a little of my own prickly, closed-off nature, would surely have thought the same, looking at me. So like them, I took her emotions quietly, wordlessly.

I know her. She is wise. My sincere apologies to Sion, the Third Prince, but unlike Sion, this is someone who can look back at her own past deeds and feel ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remorse. So for now — let me accept it. That is the most I can do, however small it may be.

Having spent her grief, Shichurin turned away without even wiping her tears and, groaning with effort, moved Topaz's body herself. I deliberately did not help. I would not have her borrow another's hands for the last thing she could do for her father. I only watched, in silence, as Shichurin — tears dropping steadily — laid her father's body into the coffin.

Time passed, and bearing out every body that remained, we returned to the territory.

Once back, I devoted myself to Ellie's care. She lay quietly, eyes closed.

"Ellie. So this is what it felt like for you... whenever I collapsed."

I could still feel her heartbeat, though compared to mine it was markedly slow. Of course her heart wasn't simply going to stop... and yet apparently I couldn't help being anxious. Thinking that Ellie must have felt like this every time I lay unconscious, it almost seemed like punishment. I had pressed the Authority of Darkness down with the Authority of Purification, but she still hadn't woken. With no way to know how she would react after taking that attack with her own body, I slept and ate right there at her side. Sleep hardly mattered; I had always slept beside her anyway. At most it would be washing her, or changing her clothes? And even that fell mostly to the maids, who saw to her bathing and her meals without being asked.

But there was one moment when I did leave her side.

"I know it's a bother. Thank you for bringing it all this way."

"Not at all. It is only right, for the hero who saved our territory."

Taking the warm food from the maid, I set up a small table and sat down to eat. Steam curled from the creamy stew Ellie loved so much, and still her eyes stayed shut. I gave her a bitter smile and began my meal in silence.

When I finished, the healers handed me medicine steeped in magic to settle the muscles. Told to always take it after eating, I had been following the regimen faithfully. By their account, the muscle fibers in my legs had torn clean through — ruptured muscle, fractures ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and all — and only after a whole swarm of healers had thrown themselves into barely re-knitting my legs and bones could I stand again and walk under my own power, as I did now. Of course, I had another reason to take it diligently: they warned that if I stopped, my muscles would regenerate at a crawl forever. I placed the pale-green dose in my mouth and washed it down with water.

Right. Medicine's down... time to go.

Straight to the council on the Four Perils' successors — to tell them what made those successors different.

I knew that simply having information wouldn't solve everything. Still, I had believed I could block at least a little. But nothing had changed, and someone had shed tears all over again. So then — I would have to change too. Keeping knowledge to myself any longer was nothing but foolishness.

If I admitted outright that I knew the source of this information, people would grow suspicious. Khan and Gerald would trust me, thanks to everything I had done until now... but I couldn't speak for the rest. So I intended to dress up what I knew as knowledge gained from an encounter with the Azure Dragon. Though that, too, had its own complications.

Being a Divine Beast's successor does not mean one can see the Divine Beast. You are merely a vessel of the god who inherited its power. Witnessing a Divine Beast's manifestation is remarkably difficult — and of course, the same holds true for the Perils' successors. To convey even these facts effectively, attributing it all to a message from the Azure Dragon would be the most fitting course.

When I opened the door and stepped into the council chamber, Gerald and his wife, Khan, Fairy, Shichurin — who was staring holes through me even now — and the heads of House Crystal were all gathered in one room. There was nothing remarkable about why Shichurin was here. I had invited her. In the game, when I saw her become a master who bent the power of ice to her will, moving weightlessly and ascending through the air, I had guessed that the power she would one day come to hold might be the White Tiger's. If she truly became a Divine Beast's successor, what I was about to say would be knowledge she simply had to have. And of course, while the odds were great that she would never become one, even if the demons learned of my topic for some reason, it would pose no problem. The Perils, the demons' highest heads, already know I am from another world — they would shrug it off with a lazy he's an otherworlder, that's how he knows~. How did the demons learn I was from another world in the first place? Obviously — because the Four Perils leaked that information on purpose.

Arriving at the council chamber, I arranged my thoughts and took the seat of honor at the head of the room. When it seemed everyone gathered was ready to listen, I slowly parted my lips.

"The reason I have called you all here is to reveal the truth about the successors of the Divine Beasts and the Four Perils."

At my abrupt words, the assembled heads tilted, and they looked at me.

"The truth?" Khan raised his hand and asked, as though my words were nonsense.

I put on a grave expression.

"...After Florence died, one of the Four Perils — Taowu — manifested in his abandoned body."

"!!!!!!"

Some stared at me in open shock; others looked on as if to say, so it has finally come. The room split cleanly into two camps. Among them, Jewelry raised her hand, asking to speak; I nodded, gave her the floor, and she opened her mouth.

"How can you know it was Taowu who manifested in his body after you felled Florence?"

"It is information the manifested one spat out himself. His voice, too, was nothing like Florence's — a hideous thing. How to put it... like vermin crawling right against your ear."

The air in the chamber grew heavy. So — time to turn it on its head.

"Last night, the Azure Dragon came to see me."

Lightly disregarding the Guardian Dragons' stunned reactions, I went on.

"The Azure Dragon told me the secrets of the Divine Beasts' and the Perils' successors — and why a Peril appeared in Florence's body."

The room focused on my words in silence. I let out a long breath and opened my mouth.

"Do you know how a successor of the Four Perils is made?"

Unlike the Divine Beasts' successors, the Perils' successors are born of vicious, despicable deeds. Some are commanded into being — demons ordered to hypnotize and brainwash their victims, who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then commit atrocities against their own will and serve beneath them. Others are those rotten with desire: people who betray humanity's side and choose to become demons themselves, thereby becoming the Perils' successors. Florence belonged to that latter kind.

I cut the explanation short and swiftly held up three fingers.

"To begin with, there are three differences."

"Three differences, you say?"

I nodded in answer.

"First — the Perils inject their Authority all at once into a human or a demon, and so make them their successor."

Injected. Literally. They pour their Authority and grace down into human and demon alike. Fail to endure it, and you die. Endure it, and you live on as a Peril's successor. It sounds grand at first glance, sure. The Divine Beasts do the opposite: they grant their Authority to a human, and so make them their successor. Injection and granting are not the same thing.

"By injection, the Perils' successors can wield tremendous power and Authority freely in a very short time — but they must pay for it with their own life force."

The Divine Beasts, meanwhile, send their power down under the name of a Trait, helping their successors grow into it and wield it in time. Slower, yes — but it is the safest, most peaceful, and most rational method. Since a granted Trait branches differently according to each person's nature, one might say the Divine Beasts send down their Authority with human potential in mind.

"Second — once a Peril's successor exists, the Perils use that successor as a conduit to gather information on the world outside."

In other words, the successor is the Peril's very eyes. They dig for information while sowing disaster wherever they go. The Divine Beasts, by contrast — perhaps because they trust humanity too much — do not intervene. They arrange things so that humans can survive and hold out on their own. Like a mother lion who shows her cubs the way of the hunt a single time, then shoves them out to hunt so they can stand on their own four feet.

"And last — unlike the Divine Beasts, the Perils regard their successors as tools."

From a Peril's standpoint, its successors are simply its eyes — a window onto the outside world. And if a window can't hold and is about to shatter, their mindset is: why not just smash it and fit a new one? That is how they raise their successors. And because the Authority was injected in one burst, they can reclaim what they gave. Take the Authority of Darkness: had Florence developed and evolved it, it would no longer be Taowu's. It would be Florence's — and Taowu could never take it back. To keep one's Authority from being stolen, it must be evolved; but how could a mortal possibly evolve a god's Authority? From the very beginning, the structure itself guarantees it can be taken.

Naturally, since they share out their own Authority, the moment a successor's soul departs and they die, the Peril can use that body as a conduit — Authority and all — and manifest directly within the successor's flesh. Of course, before long the corpse crumbles to dust. But in that brief span, they wield power enough to wipe an entire territory off the map — which is exactly why my mind was razor-sharp when I faced Taowu. The Divine Beasts are nothing like them. From the moment they grant Authority, they send down a diluted version, precisely so it can grow. Once the power becomes truly yours, it can be reinterpreted — and on that foundation, developed into something far greater.

When I had told them everything I remembered from the game, the people fell silent and simply looked at me.

"There will likely be more of the Perils' successors from here on. Officially, three remain — but as I said, they breed successors simply by scattering their Authority."

"It is right to assume more than that."

In short: our numbers were finite, while the other side could churn out soldiers nearly without end. Our side, the Divine Beasts', would have to face them with the one advantage no one else possessed — that no one alive knew my techniques better than I did. Just as I had poured moonlight into my blade and erased Florence's evil spirits in a single stroke. No matter how overwhelming a power is, without proficiency it is worthless.

Sharing the rest of the game knowledge I remembered naturally among them, and asking that this truth be carried to the other territories as well, I rose from my seat. It was time I checked on Ellie.

Not one person in the chamber moved to stop me. Rather, they saw me off with thanks for entrusting them with such information. And so, accepting their consideration, I stepped out of the hall — to find Shichurin standing there, watching me. No doubt she had judged there ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was no reason to remain once I came out.

My eyes went to the epaulettes on her shoulders. Not the yellow that marked a provisional Knight Commander, but ones whose ends were faintly tinged with red. It seemed Gerald meant to raise her up as Knight Commander in the fallen Topaz's stead. Because I had needed to deliver urgent information to the leadership, the funeral had been postponed — the joint rites would begin tomorrow.

Standing in the corridor, I met Shichurin's gaze without turning from it. The flame clinging to her eyes had lost some of its roar, but it still burned bright.

"Right. I said your father died because I didn't come sooner."

"...That's right, Successor of the Azure Dragon. I saw your valor with my own eyes. You wielded a sword so mighty that even I couldn't look away."

"..."

"And still this hatred won't leave me... Hk! Successor! Tell me, please! How am I supposed to resolve this knot in my chest!"

I answered flatly.

"You can't."

At my flat verdict — at the implication that she would carry a wound like that knot for the rest of her life — her eyes flew wide, and the tears fell.

"I said it can't be resolved. I never said there was no way to make it better, even a little."

"...!"

To Shichurin, who lifted her tear-blurred gaze up to me, I stretched out my hand.

"I'm going to see someone precious to me now. Want to come?"

At my words, the little girl who had played the grown-up — affecting poise the way I had when I was young — nodded, and took my outstretched hand as though it were the most natural thing in the world.