For Now (4)
Even early on, I never gave much thought to the Demon Knight as he had existed before I logged in.
In games, a playable character’s past usually ends up a MacGuffin, or else gets revealed somewhere along the story—so it was only natural.
But the moment I began to suspect this place might be real, I was half resigned to the possibility.
If this body had been created the instant I logged in, fine. But there was no guarantee I hadn’t simply possessed a man who already lived and breathed.
Even knowing that, I deliberately looked away. The first case would have been one thing; the second piled far too many questions onto me, and so I fled from them.
Still, if the time ever came—if a situation like this one arrived and the truth was within reach—I had no intention of running.
As I always say, my life’s motto has been this: nothing is more useless than the words that can’t be, and so it is better to focus on the present.
"You said you were full of questions and speculation. What does that mean?"
—It isn’t nearly as profound as it sounds. You moved alone without ever announcing your whereabouts, so every kind of rumor got stuck onto you. There weren’t even many eyewitness accounts of how you traveled from place to place.
But could I manage it again this time?
—And on top of that—hah. I’ll just say it straight. The few reports that did come in were all the same: he only listens to stories about criminals or demons, then leaves, he seems obsessed with killing them… Who wouldn’t start wondering? Anyone who likes talking about other people’s business would have said it at least once.
Could I focus on the truth I’d been given, endure the weight that came crashing down with it, and hold on?
—Is that the last of your questions?
The way I had once, at a turning point in my life—could I overcome this too?
"…One last thing. How were you so sure?"
—Uh, I’m not sure what you mean?
"That I am the same person as the one from back then."
—Ahh. That… well, you’re using a knight’s name, aren’t you?
"……?"
—……? I mean, if you impersonate a knight, there are sanctions. Whether you’re an adventurer or a mercenary—especially if you’re registered with any organization—it’s even stricter. And yet you’ve been freely using a knight’s name… and in the last forty years, you’re the only adventurer who’s ever been granted one. So of course I assumed it was you……?
I don’t know. As of this moment, I simply cannot be certain.
"…Understood."
Whether a trial is the size of a house or the size of an apartment building, when it’s standing right in front of you, both feel like the same unscalable wall.
—Then, um—may I ask one question of my own?
"Speak."
—Given that your memories aren’t clear… is there anything I should be doing?
I fell silent at the Lord of Belgart’s question.
Anything he should be doing. Was he saying that because he knew there was a demon in my right arm? Or simply because I was his benefactor, and he was worried?
"Nothing."
Either way, there was only one answer I could choose. With that, I cut the connection.
I leaned back the other way, undoing the forward tilt I’d held throughout the conversation. Pfoom. The soft sofa caught my back.
"Is there nothing further you require?"
"No."
The mage took the hint and left as well, and at last I had time to think alone. My right hand settled over my eyes.
So much was rising that my ears rang with a dull, oppressive fullness.
But stopping my thoughts was hard.
Whether everything I’d just heard was the official character’s past, a reflection of the concept I’d built, or someone else’s trail of deeds—that too was hard to stop turning over.
If the Demon Knight of two years ago had worn different equipment, then where had what I was wearing now come from—that question as well.
If it was a reflection of my concept, what unknown force had made it so? If it was someone else’s trail, where had the real Demon Knight gone—those doubts too.
All of it was hard to stop.
"Hah."
Unfortunately, I had not a single answer I could produce right now.
Of course not. These were not answers someone who had barged in midway could dig up without prior information. They were things to hear from the system that had staged this farce—or……
From the real Demon Knight, who had either vanished somewhere or was still in hiding.
"Huu."
For a long while I sank into the darkness inside my palm.
And the moment I took my hand away, I gathered every last thought and put them in order. Fortunately, it wasn’t that difficult.
The problem was the sheer number of hypotheses and guesses; my emotions hadn’t surged enough to blot out what was in front of me.
As for why—well. Maybe emptying out all that rage in the bathroom had helped. I simply didn’t have the energy left to cry, laugh, or get angry.
Like a hearth with no firewood, unable to burn—it felt as if there was nothing left even to exhaust.
"…What meaning does any of this even have."
Only the cynicism I’d barely managed to put off earlier kept finding its way back with such ease.
Well, it wasn’t hard to understand.
Even knowing this wasn’t a game, hadn’t I been stubbornly looking away, clinging to whatever made it easier to endure?
And then they had to drop a bomb like this into the middle of it. If they were going to make me fully accept it, fine—but feeding me only this vague sense of reality left me with nothing but self-reproach.
"If this is how it’s going to be."
If there was no ending—if every struggle, every fight and every mouthful of blood I’d spat out trying to reach one might well be meaningless—
Then of course the thought would come: better to drop everything and bury myself in some rural hole.
"If this is how it’s going to be……"
Or, or……
I lowered the arm that had been covering my eyes for a moment.
My right arm, sheathed in the gauntlet—and the flesh that must be hiding inside it—looked blacker than anything.
Probably not mere setting, that.
"Goddamn it."
Tuk.
I covered my eyes again without managing the last of the words.
For the sake of you, my beloved ones, I crushed that final impulse alone.
Sure, however unfilial I might be, there are still scenes I don’t want to show you—not even at the very end. Even if none of this will ever reach you.
"Then that’s enough. Fail if you must. Fall apart if you must. If you can give your life meaning, I’ll cheer you on for that alone."
Because that was the only thing I could ever give back to you.
Creak.
And in that same spirit, I chose once more to stand. It was a choice that clung to the threadbare hope that an ending might still mean something—even if it might not.
Or perhaps, having come this far, it was pure stubbornness: at least thrash a little longer until I knew the bare outline of the truth. Grit is a base stat for any decent K-gamer, after all.
My legs, forced upright, trembled for a moment, but a few steps later the shaking was gone.
It was time to take the stage again.
Click.
"…Finally out, are you."
"……?"
But when I opened the door to leave, the Archmage and Deathbringer were waiting.
Behind them, the two young lords were reading the room.
"What."
Uh—had they come looking for me? Why? Because I’d left the temple without a word?
"You……"
Ah. Come to think of it, there were plenty of reasons to come looking. Even without many, looking for me was the right call.
If someone who woke after eleven days emptied not only his sickroom but the entire hospital, a guardian or attending physician—someone—ought to come drag him back.
Though the priests playing doctor had mostly been too intimidated by me to do much of anything.
"First, let us return to the temple. The young lord who kindly provided the room also asks us to convey his thanks."
"O-oh, it was nothing. Please rest as long as you like."
"No. We cannot impose for too long."
The Archmage, in the role of guardian, was trying to lead me away with his teeth practically gritted.
Beside him, Deathbringer kept stealing glances. From his arms dangled a longsword that had no business being there.
"Business."
I wondered why Deathbringer was carrying a longsword he didn’t even use, but I let it pass without much suspicion.
Instead—because the concept’s charm point was not listening—I planted myself in front of the reception room door.
The Archmage wore a face that wanted to be angry and couldn’t quite manage it. An expression that said this was driving him up the wall.
"…You. Is that really what you ought to be saying right now."
"Sir! My lord, you need to hear how things stand, and you also need to eat……"
But before that irritation could tip into real anger, Dev shouted loudly. That, at least, was something worth listening to.
I did wonder why he was telling me now when he hadn’t earlier—though I’d already heard some of it from the young lords.
Still, I needed to hear the next part of the schedule.
"…I don’t know if this is the right thing to do."
"……."
More than anything, the word meal properly woke my hunger. Damn it—I’d forgotten until now!
Had she asked Berserk for sparring lessons to shore up her own weakness?
Once became twice, twice became three times, and before she knew it the entire morning had vanished.
The Inquisitor made her way back to the dining hall as a matter of course. Lunch hour had arrived; training had left her starving; and somewhere in her unconscious she had learned that everyone would be there.
"Uwahaha! I’m starving!"
"We’ve arri— …uh……"
But what on earth was this atmosphere?
The Inquisitor gathered every scrap of social sense she did and didn’t possess and rolled her eyes around the room. The quiet dining hall looked much as usual, and yet somehow stranger.
A subtle difference she couldn’t put into words.
"Oh! Comrade! You’re awake?!"
"Y-you’ve woken? Are you all right?"
Of course it was a good thing that the Demon Knight’s seat, empty for the past ten days, was filled again. Watching him eat felt like proof of health, and that was a relief.
But—but……
"Berserk is hungry too. Let’s eat together."
The Inquisitor looked at the Demon Knight eating in silence, then at the Archmage and Slicker across from him with utensils in hand.
And Slicker still had that longsword in his arms—the one he’d said he would gift to the Demon Knight.
Something was off. She didn’t understand it well, but something was off all the same.
She blinked.
"Um……"
"You’ve arrived."
She didn’t know. The Inquisitor looked at the Archmage, who seemed as composed as ever, then shifted her gaze back to Slicker.
And glared at him with everything she had. What is going on. Just sit down and eat already. Desperate eye-contact communication flew back and forth.
"But what’s this? There’s so much food today!"
"…I thought you two would come, so I had it prepared ahead. Soup will be out shortly—if you’re hungry, eat something else first."
"Ohh! Thanks!"
She didn’t know. She’d just sit for now.
The Inquisitor carefully read the room as she always did, and settled her rear into the seat two seats over from the Demon Knight’s side.
Perhaps because he’d woken after ten days and was finally eating—the Demon Knight’s place was piled with roughly twice his usual portion. Fish sat there in place of meat.
"…Since you’re here, let us discuss the schedule."
"Yes, sir."
At least there was fish. That was something.
Remembering how the Demon Knight grew thinner by the day, she prayed he would eat as much as possible this time.
"As I mentioned before, the road from Ednium to other cities is inconvenient, so we will be returning to Camborer. And since we are going back to Camborer anyway, we have decided to coordinate our schedule with the young lord. As such, departure will likely be delayed by a few days. The young lord is rather busy, I’m told."
"Y-yes…? Yes?"
But the Archmage’s explanation planted a question in her. It differed a little from what she had heard.
Coordinating with the young lord was right—but hadn’t he said they would adjust entirely to their side?
"And there is still no word of the demon that fled with Biryuho’s corpse."
And word of the fleeing demon, on top of that.
As she recalled it, the search for the demon had been fully abandoned two days ago—hadn’t it?
"Um, Archmage, about that news……"
The Inquisitor started to raise her hand, wanting to confirm the truth.
If she had misheard, it was a serious mistake on her part; if new information had come in and only she hadn’t been told, that was another problem entirely.
Squeeze.
But pressure on her foot instinctively stopped her.
The Inquisitor shut her mouth by reflex, narrowed her once-round eyes to sharp slits, and stared at the seat directly across from her.
Why are you stepping on me!
Read the room!
A brief, furious exchange of glares passed between the Inquisitor and Deathbringer.
"Once this is settled, our next destination will likely be Bemyurhen. It takes over a month simply to get there, but… it is home to the largest Magic Tower in the east."
In the meantime, the Archmage calmly laid out the matters that had been discussed and decided while the Demon Knight slept.
He spoke as if addressing everyone, but it was as good as speaking for the Demon Knight alone to hear.
"Once we reach Bemyurhen……"
Moreover, Bemyurhen was not only the city with the largest Magic Tower—it was a city at war with the mermen.
Going there meant nothing but fighting, so returning his body to the best possible condition beforehand was something he especially needed to hear.
"…I was thinking we might check your body once more while we’re there."
That, at least, was how she had heard it. For some reason the Archmage wasn’t saying it now.
The Inquisitor wondered why he was leaving that out—but she closed her mouth, figuring he must have his reasons for not speaking.
Misreporting and omitting were different things, after all.
"So if possible, take care of yourself until then."
But why had he said it differently earlier?
She decided to ask him privately later, and stared blankly at the table. She was hungry. The scent of delicious food kept creeping into a stomach that had been empty from moving all morning.
"As for other matters… ah. Biryuho’s remains are yours. How do you intend to handle them? If you wish to have something made, I can put you in touch with a craftsman."
"I’ll sell them."
"…I’ll arrange something reasonable."
Fortunately the Archmage’s words weren’t long. As a bonus, her share of the soup arrived at just the right moment.
Which meant a situation had unfolded in which it would not be strange for her to pick up a spoon.
"…What are you waiting for."
And with Slicker’s glare on top of that—
It was all right to eat now, right? The Inquisitor rolled her eyes twice, then carefully took up her spoon.
Berserk, for her part, was already shoving everything that had come out into her mouth—soup or no soup that was supposed to mark the start of the meal—but even so, being able to eat now was a relief.
A silent lunch began.