It Can Be Changed
I needed time to sort through the information.
...Not about my current situation, though.
I had anticipated early on that my demonified arm was a piece of the Demon King, that my soul had been altered because of it, and that I might therefore be able to use the Demon King's authority. Or rather, since it felt like I wasn't the one actively wielding it, was it granted? Gifted? I didn't know quite how to put it into words, but one thing was certain: I had become capable of pulling off some prophet-like bullshit.
So that settled that matter. Nothing more to say about it. What I truly needed to sort out was the torrent of memories crammed into my skull—fragments of someone's past, or their future.
"Quino. Halt the training."
"Pardon?"
"I said stop the drills."
"...Understood, my Lord."
After stealing a discreet glance at my face, Quino gave the signal, and an urgent drumbeat rolled across the grounds. The spirited battle cries and cracking impacts filling the training yard gradually died away, and the bustling knights turned puzzled eyes up toward the dais.
I scanned their ranks until a familiar face caught my eye.
"Bernecker. Come here."
My mutter was too soft to carry across the entire training field, but quick-witted Quino relayed my command at the top of his lungs.
"Bernecker! Step forward!"
"Sir!"
Despite the sudden summons, the knight named Bernecker raised no objections and marched straight up to the platform. Having thrown himself into relentless drills until just a moment ago, he was a mess of dirt and smeared blood. He was reasonably tall with a rugged, thickset frame, intense eyes, and firmly set lips. A stubborn, bullheaded sort of face. He looked like the type whose loyalty ran bone-deep.
"Right... Bernecker. Lagos Bernecker, isn't it?"
"It is, my Lord!"
Meeting his gaze as he gave a firm nod, I quietly brought up the information resting in my mind. As if lying in wait, his past and future materialized vividly before my eyes, almost tangible. A wealth of details that had never existed in any lorebook or setting sheet.
"Hmm."
The future I witnessed was the moment of his awakening. Living ordinary, unremarkable days, the instant he finally came to understand the true state of his own body... he awakened. An event destined to take place thirty whole years from now.
"Lagos Bernecker. Are you, by chance, troubled about your role?"
"...?! Y-Yes, my Lord."
His eyes widened in shock, his voice trembling slightly.
The training ground, where a faint murmur had lingered until a moment ago, fell unnaturally still.
"...?"
What's with the sudden quiet?
Only then did I look around, noticing how terrifyingly focused the other knights were. Eyes sparkling, swallowing dry spit—they looked like children waiting for Christmas morning. It was downright suffocating.
"......"
Looks like I picked the wrong timing. Because the Demon King's authority had manifested so abruptly, my eagerness to test it had gotten the better of me. Had I kept a cooler head, I would have called him aside in private later... but backing out now would look terrible, wouldn't it?
"Haah... Lagos Bernecker. You must hold a personal creed."
"I do! I—!"
"Ah, there is no need to explain. I am already well aware of your steadfast loyalty and your burning camaraderie. You wish to protect everything enclosed within the fence of your heart—even if you are weak."
Struck dumb by words that laid him completely bare, a dazed look drifted across Lagos Bernecker's face.
"However, I would like you to ponder something further."
"W-What might that be...?"
Evidently wound tight with tension, his pupils trembled violently.
"Is the swordsmanship you have honed day and night truly a skill capable of protecting what you cherish?"
"...I am striving toward that very end."
"You must already feel an odd dissonance in the Stanasila Secret Sword Technique."
"T-That cannot be! The secret sword technique of Stanasila is far too profound and magnificent for the likes of me! I have not grasped even a fraction of its majesty!"
"Yet hesitation creeps into your steps, does it not? Stray thoughts intrude between your strikes, your stride falters, the tip of your blade wavers, and you tense muscles that should remain relaxed."
"How could you possibly know that...?!"
"You already harbor doubts toward the sword style. Wondering if perhaps it simply does not suit you. Am I wrong?"
"......"
Watching him freeze in sheer astonishment, I downed my cup of liquor in a single draught.
"Khaaah... And those doubts of yours are entirely justified."
"What...?!"
His face twisted in despair, as though confronting the impossible. When I gave a dismissive wave of my hand to signal it was nothing catastrophic, the rigid tension began to seep out of his stiff posture.
"In your youth, you suffered an accident that left you with a collapsed lung."
"Uh... Me? I have no memory of such a thing..."
"Even if it escapes your memory, it remains the truth. Which is why you must cast it aside."
"...Are you telling me to discard the secret sword technique of the Stanasila Knights? Forgive me, but I cannot do that."
"Hmm? And why is that?"
"Because it is my honor, my pride, and my glory! Even if I can never advance my realm, it does not matter!"
"Ho. Incredibly loyal. And terribly foolish."
With a chuckle, I filled another cup to the brim, handed it to Muriel, and gestured with my chin. Muriel caught my drift in an instant, handing the cup over to Lagos Bernecker.
"This is...?"
"Drink."
"...Understood."
Though looking entirely bewildered, he drained the cup in one gulp.
"Khk...!"
Grimacing sharply at the potent alcohol, his face flushed crimson.
"......"
This was a reenactment of circumstances. In the future I had seen, he too had fallen into deep reflection after drinking, leading to his awakening.
"There is no need to abandon the Stanasila Secret Sword Technique. It merely needs to be changed."
"Changing such a magnificent sword art... I could never commit such sacrilege..."
Seeing how his speech slurred after just a single cup, he was clearly a lightweight.
"Ascending to a higher realm is inherently about that. Form and structure are mere foundations. You must break them to climb higher. Lagos Bernecker, close your eyes and circulate the mana through your body."
"...Yes, my Lord."
He really was obedient.
"Do not stop at bone and muscle as you normally do. Peer deeper, into every nook and cranny of your body."
"...Yes."
"The flow of your blood, the shifting of muscle, the path of your nerves... can you perceive them all?"
"...Yes."
"Having lived with it your entire life, you wouldn't know, but your body right now is far from normal."
"...Pardon?"
"Look along the edge of your right lung, behind it, inward. You will feel a damaged spot about the size of a thumb."
"...This is..."
"That is the cause of the dissonance in your swordsmanship. When your breath falters, your motion stutters, and when your motion stutters, your sword cannot flow smoothly."
"......"
"Recall the Stanasila Secret Sword Technique you have repeated thousands, tens of thousands of times. You can do it. You can visualize it. A swordsmanship rebuilt around your own breath."
"...!!"
At that moment, his eyes snapped wide before freezing half-open. His unfocused gaze turned inward rather than outward.
"He is in a state of awakening," Quino observed.
"Is he? Couldn't tell myself."
"It is unequivocally an awakening. This is—! Ahem, my apologies."
Catching himself before raising his voice, Quino cleared his throat and checked my expression. I brushed it off with a casual flick of my wrist and gazed at Lagos Bernecker with a peculiar sensation swelling in my chest.
Right now, I had pulled a future forward by thirty years and changed it. Which meant the future I saw wasn't set in stone. It could be changed.
"Hmm."
With this power, would slaying the Evil God become easier?
...No, it probably wouldn't be that simple. The Demon King, who was the original owner of this power, would ultimately fall to the Hero's party, so it was hardly an omnipotent ability. Even so, having it was infinitely better than not having it. To someone like me, who possessed no inherent combat prowess and only an encyclopedic knowledge of the game settings, even an incomplete authority was something to be grateful for.
"......"
The real problem was that I had zero clue how to deliberately use this authority. To begin with, peering into his past and future just now wasn't something I had done intentionally. It felt more like it had been forcefully crammed into my head... Could it be connected to that giant eye I saw earlier?
If so, I had no choice but to suspect the Demon King.
That crazy menhera bitch... Don't tell me she's watching me this very second?
"Sigh... Huh?"
Absentmindedly lifting my head toward the training grounds, I froze.
How should I put this... It felt like being surrounded by a pack of starving hyenas. Gazes bubbling with raw desire and ambition pricked at me like daggers. It was uncomfortably stifling.
"Looks like you lot are ready to riot. Fine, fine. I get it... Allote Roselly."
"Allote Roselly! Step forward!"
"Sirrr!"
The moment her name was called, a rare sight dashed out: a female knight. And as her name implied, a noblewoman. A stalwart warrior who had endured trials and tribulations far harsher than the glimpses granted by this authority, standing firm through it all.
"Allote Roselly."
"Yes! Lord Stanashila Aljen!"
"I regret that this will not be what you are anticipating... but what will be given to you is not a breakthrough in realm, but a choice."
"A... choice, my Lord?"
"Before long, the lady of House Allote... that is to say, your mother, will die of illness."
"...!!"
Every trace of eagerness vanished, her brow furrowing heavily.
"Whether you will be there by her side or turn away... that choice is yours. Do as you wish."
"...Understood, my Lord."
"You had best make your decision within a week."
"...Thank you."
Bowing deeply, she returned to her place with a grave countenance.
After that, I called out several more knights, warning them of regrets they would face in the future or dropping subtle hints to guide their awakenings.
...Honestly, watching them break through so effortlessly every time I opened my mouth was borderline terrifying.
Is this really okay?
It felt a bit rich worrying about it now, but surely divine retribution or karmic backlash for leaking heavenly secrets wouldn't bite me in the ass, right?
In a world where gods actually existed, the thought left a distinctly unpleasant aftertaste.