Episode 4-a. Tangled and Diverging Timelines (4)

We wandered those endlessly stretching streets, opening doors and peering inside over and over, but the door to the spacetime we desperately sought never appeared.

That said, we didn't just stand around doing nothing—we went into plenty of places.

"If we add the reagent newly developed by Pretties scholars to these existing drugs... There you have it. You can see a whole new direction of possibilities emerging."

"Ooh... Th-that's... incredible..."

"Haha, you there in the seat—you react so well every time I explain something! Now, everyone, look at the next drug. This time, let's talk about the cure for the Konuta Plague, which once drove people to death."

"K-Konuta Plague...!"

From the looks of things right now, we'd become the scholars from the past pharmaceutical research conference that Aberly had excitedly barged into upon seeing it.

"...I don't get any of this, Ain oppa."

"It's fine, I don't get it either."

"I wanna leave Aberly-ajusshi behind and go, but... we can't, right?"

"If you wanna see him stuck here forever as a ghost, sure. Otherwise, no."

"Nngh, guess we have no choice then..."

Time spent in each spacetime was limited, and scholars often turned into ghosts when they got so lost in their passion that they overstayed. Aberly, scribbling away with sparkling eyes, looked like he'd end up the same if we didn't drag him out in time.

"So, kid, where the hell are we this time?"

"This is the pharmaceutical research conference of Sirka, a fallen nation like that Krishna Conference in the Adonia Kingdom where all the scholars piled in last time."

"Never heard of that country myself, but everything here's doomed to fall, huh."

"This one's just naturally faded away. In a world with magic and divine power, a whole nation obsessing over pharmacology was pretty damn stupid."

An idealistic country full of idiots like Aberly, developing medicine for poor commoners with no money or power. Maybe the kind of place Lady Lucia dreamed of—nobles and scholars working for the people. But it stood as stark proof that such naive ideals don't survive in reality. At least not in this world with mages and priests.

That's what I thought as I called out to the engrossed Aberly.

"Aberly."

"Ooh, mixing it that way ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over there would... Yes? Did you call me?"

"Less than ten minutes left. Ask whatever you wanna know before we go."

His eyes sparkled like stars, and I almost wanted to let him stay longer, but time was running out. He nodded frantically and shouted.

"Ah, got it! Scholar, I have a question! If a new plague starts spreading before symptoms appear, what should a doctor and pharmacist do first...?"

Aberly never stuttered when he was deep in his work as a doctor. He'd straighten his hunched back, his eyes shining brighter than ever, and belt it out with confident gusto. Back when I was a green adventurer making constant rookie mistakes, he'd sneak up while I was picking at a fresh wound, offering a vial of his homemade potion. Just like that.

Our spacetime jaunt was more or less like that. We didn't find what we each desperately wanted, but we hit second-best spots and grabbed what we needed. Like becoming pharmaceutical scholars following Aberly, or turning into dwarf blacksmiths together in the spacetime Horn led us to.

"Hey now, pounding like that'll ruin the edge! You call yourself a dwarf after that?!"

"Tch... This is trickier than it looks. Show me once more."

Me, Aberly, and the kids didn't really need blacksmithing skills, so we just cheered from the sidelines without breaking a sweat.

"Tsk tsk, this is why the young ones ain't worth shit. Watch close and copy me. Like this! Right here! Steady strikes, over and over! Hup! See how it shapes up bit by bit? Now you try."

"So... like this! Hup!"

"Gah, what an idiot! Can't even follow something this simple?! Don't you dare call yourself my apprentice out there!"

It was hilarious watching old man Horn flail around, getting chewed out while trying to relearn lost techniques.

"...Show me once more."

"If you screw up again, my hammer's smashing your skull—this is your last shot, so watch proper."

"I'll give it a go."

But damn, the way he'd flare up those indifferent flames with a roar and hammer away was pretty cool.

Clang—clang—

"There, see? It works when you do it right! How much time'd you waste on this basic shit?!"

"Hup, hngh! Like this?!"

"Yeah! Steady power and rhythm, thin edge first, layer by layer!"

Clang—The anvil rang out clear and crisp as always. The tiny red sparks flying from the hammer matched the fire in Horn's eyes.

Once time was up and we bolted out the door...

"...I'm over 500 years old, and here I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠am gettin' treated like some punk."

"You were a dwarf blacksmith apprentice. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Still, you picked up some stuff, right?"

"Yeah, yeah. Next time, I'll hammer your sword too."

Horn sighed deeply, but the corner of his mouth twitched up.

And then.

"Apprentice Knight No. 36, Ain!! Roll left! Roll right! Headbutt the ground! You moron, can't even follow that?!"

"Ah, shit."

"Shit?! You just told your training instructor 'shit,' apprentice knight?!"

"No, that's not—!"

"Talking back, apprentice knight!! No. 36, forget sword training today!! Headbutt!!"

Fuck, for real. We got our asses handed to us every damn time.

"Laughing at corporal punishment during training? Fine. Nos. 37, 38, 39, 40—all of you, headbutt!!"

Don't forget—the kids, Aberly, and old man Horn, giggling at my sorry state, were all trainee knights here too.

"No, fuck. I'm 500 years old, you ill-mannered human brat."

"Fuck?! Apprentice Knight No. 38, Horn!! Headbutting ain't enough for you!!"

So Horn flipped off the screaming instructor and bolted for the door without looking back.

"You idiot, I said headbutt, not actually bash your skull."

"...Yeah, no kidding."

Thinking back, I could've just run too—why'd I keep headbutting?

Anyway.

We kept wandering the streets, opening spacetime doors. Sometimes we'd catch holy knights and priests who'd gone through one marked "Holy War," now lost and searching for the real thing. Or adventurers cursing out a door promising the saintess, only to find whores inside.

Most were just roadside scholars waiting for their field’s conference. Their mad passion didn't fade even as they grew ragged and filthy.

That's when the kids would tug at my clothes.

"Ain hyung, can we give bread to that scholar over there?"

"Ain oppa, I wanna give bread to that scholar too."

Facing shabby scholars slumped against walls with heavy sighs, they'd pull out bread and grin wide.

"Sure, but don't treat 'em like beggars handing out charity."

"“Okay~”"

With my okay, they'd dash over and hand bread to the resting scholars. I approached them too, tossing out questions.

"Hey, scholar."

"Ah, thanks for the bread. I was starving."

Call it simple curiosity.

"No problem. Mind if I ask what conference you're waiting for?"

I wondered what kept them glued to the door even in that state.

Most researched practical magic or divine arts. Or niche stuff like science, pharmacology, archaeology.

From dozens we'd asked, they all waited for doors like that.

"Hm... Me..."

"Sorry if that's too personal. My bad."

I figured this one was the same.

"No, no. I'm waiting for a spacetime on gray magic. Haha... Rare passion, so it's awkward to admit."

"Ah... But everything's respected here, right?"

"Haha, true. There are a few more scattered around. We yell if one's about to open."

He chuckled sheepishly, sharing my interest.

"So, no gray-related spacetimes have opened before?"

"Haha, of course ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they have. But... they're all ones where you face gray magic head-on. Too scary to enter. No proper gray research conference yet—too rare."

"Yeah, fair enough."

"So I just wait blindly. It'll open eventually, right?"

He munched the kids' bread, and I nodded, ready to end it. Time for another useful spacetime.

Of course.

If we hadn't heard that cry from far off.

That shout made the slumped scholar's eyes bulge as he sprang up.

"Wh-what?! Gray academy!! Gotta go— if I miss it, who knows when next!"

He bolted at impossible speed for his scrawny frame. I stared blankly at my companions.

"Idiot, run!"

"...Right. Kids, into my arms—quick!"

Horn's words snapped me out; I scooped up the kids and sprinted.

We rushed past the waving shouter, hands linked, plunging into the ominously flickering spacetime.

Twisted, tangled, diverging, misaligned.

Holding our breath, eyes shut, waiting to cross.

Suddenly—whoosh—a breeze hit our faces. The air thick with blatant mana weighed us down; we shook it off and cracked our eyes open.

And.

Unknown words flew before us. The early ancient language scholars scribbled furiously, deciphering. The few gray researchers hovered nearby, eyes gleaming eagerly beside the busy scribes.

"Kid, shouldn't we stick by those ancient language guys? Can't make heads or tails of this."

"Yeah, that's righ—wait."

We had no clue what they said. But.

The scribes flinched, pens halting.

The ancient debaters' eyes all locked on me.

Chills ran down my spine.

"...Horn, bolt for the door. Now."

"What? Outta nowhere—"

It was the weakling's alarm bell. Sadly, it rang way too late. It should've blared the second we crossed.

One ancient word, and the door enabling spacetime travel slammed shut with a boom, vanishing.

Our only way back, gone before time was up.

The already thick mana began to boil.

Something was very wrong.