Even a Mastermind Has a Story (2)

True to research materials from Eustonia, the very birthplace of spirits, they were full of peculiar claims—all the more so because they belonged to archaeo-spiritology, a field that did not exist on Earth.

The gist was this: in the beginning, a single spirit had created the world, and that spirit's true identity was Creation Spirit Irelion. Once its work of creation was finished, Irelion gradually lost its power and faded away. Traces of it, the papers claimed, could be found in the evolutionary patterns of spirits, in the folktales handed down among ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the people, and in the wavelengths of the Spirit Stones scattered across the world. Even to my eye as a scholar, it was a remarkably intriguing hypothesis.

"Creation Spirit Irelion? Does this thing actually exist?"

"Haha. Our Junia seems awfully interested in spirits, so Daddy will explain it himself. Creation Spirit Irelion is..."

"The one that created Eustonia and then naturally dissolved. That story?"

"Th-that's right. Just as I thought. You're clever, taking after Daddy."

"And the special mana wavelength observed in certain Spirit Stones—the so-called alpha wave—is the proof."

"......"

The moment I showed that I understood his paper, Folton looked as though the shock had struck him speechless.

Not that I meant to keep playing the little child forever. Leaning into the genius persona from the very start was bound to pay off.

"But if you want to properly test how credible this hypothesis is, a meaningful level of alpha waves would have to be observed in a Primal Spirit Stone. Have you actually studied one?"

"...Junia, I'm sorry, but a Primal Spirit Stone isn't something just anyone can lay a hand on."

"Hmmmm. Is that so."

A Primal Spirit Stone. Unlike an ordinary Spirit Stone, the term referred to one that had reached a state of one hundred percent mana purity. I was the sort who kept up with the news on the television Folton left running every day when he went out, so I already knew that, to each nation, a Primal Spirit Stone was a treasure scarcely different from a national treasure.

"That's why I'm working to get permission from the people high up in the country."

"...Permission. You think you'll actually get it?"

"It may well prove impossible. Even so, that's all right."

With that, Folton hoisted me high into the air. My body rose with a lurch, and the gaze that had been fixed straight ahead lost all sense of direction. In the brief moment I floundered at the sudden shift of view, he looked at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me and broke into a brilliant smile.

"Daddy is so happy that our Junia has already grown this much."

"Y-yeah."

"Honestly, it's almost frightening. When Daddy was little, he wasn't nearly as clever as you."

"Well, obviously. Who do you think I am?"

"That's why it's all right. Even if Daddy fails here and now, someday you'll uncover the mysteries of the world—my share of them included."

I had worried I might have gone too far, but the worry proved needless. Whether because I was his only child or not, Folton's reaction was remarkably optimistic. He seemed to regard me as nothing more than a child who happened to be a little brighter than her peers. If anyone was overdoing it, it was Folton, spinning me overhead in his hands as though I were a toy airplane.

I waited until he finally stopped whirling me through the air. The instant my feet touched the ground, I staggered under the dizziness of the spin and spoke.

"All right. I'll help you, Dad."

"What a dutiful child. Then perhaps a bit of cleaning..."

I cut him off. His answer had come as if he had expected precisely that, but I had no desire whatsoever to help with anything so trivial as cleaning the laboratory. My body might have grown young and frail, yet a researcher's pride had not died with it. Besides, if I tried to clean a lab in this condition, the only thing I was likely to manage was collapsing.

"Not that. The research."

"You'll help with the research?"

"I'm a genius. I can help more than enough."

Folton himself had to know I was not operating on a child's level. Even so, he looked less than pleased. Did he think that no matter how exceptional I was, I was still only a little girl? It felt as though he saw me less as a collaborator and more as manpower for the generation to come.

"But, Junia..."

"Are you doubting me right now?"

"No, it isn't that..."

But the position of a small child was more powerful than one might expect—especially against a man as hopelessly soft for his daughter as Folton. I was someone who could stomach a measure of disgrace, if that was what it took to get what I wanted.

"Liar."

"No, I'm not lying—"

"Liar. I can tell you're doubting me."

"Junia! That's not it!"

"I can tell from the way you're acting. Everything written in here is a lie too, isn't it?"

I shook the papers in my hand, needling him. It was a method that rattled both Folton Raynants at once: the father of a little girl, and the spiritologist. However you looked at it, the logic was nonsense, but coming from a brat, it was invincible all by itself.

Brought down by my psychological assault, Folton let out a pained groan and nodded.

"Hnnngh... Very well. From now on, come to the laboratory with Daddy."

It was a declaration of surrender to Junia Raynant, supernova of the spiritology world—and a silent grant of permission to enter the laboratory.

Three months had passed since I first set foot in Folton's laboratory. Satisfied enough, it seemed, with my competence as an assistant, he had come to place a considerable amount of trust in me. Assisting him, however, was not the only reason I had wanted the laboratory.

It was the dead of night, and everyone else was asleep. I slipped out of my room without Folton knowing, bent on a secret piece of work I could not let him catch me at. To that end I rose onto my heels so my footsteps would make no sound, and crept quietly along—

"Eek...!"

My strength gave out, and I pitched onto the floor. This body was young, and badly short on strength besides. Staying up on my heels the whole way was clearly asking too much. With no other choice, I set my heels back down and walked on, smothering the sound as best I could.

"It has to be around here somewhere..."

The first thing I was after was Folton's lab coat. The coat he put on whenever he headed for the laboratory hung from the rack in the living room. It was hooked at the very top, but the garment was long enough that its pockets fell within reach of my hands. I slipped a hand inside and drew out the bunch of keys. The solid weight of them against my palm was pleasantly satisfying.

"..."

The laboratory key was mine. Now it was time to pay the lab a visit. Flashlight lit in my left hand, I picked my way carefully down the stairs. Even with the light on, the stairwell in the dead of night was frightening enough. I swallowed my fear along with my spit and kept moving toward the laboratory.

Before long, a familiar door surfaced out of the dark, throwing back the flashlight's beam. Click. Click. Creeeak. I opened it with the key from Folton's pocket. Beyond the door, Spirit Stones glimmered in the darkness wherever the beam struck them. I shut the iron door at once and switched on the laboratory lights. A desk left in chaotic disarray, and the biting smell of paper, welcomed me in.

"Finally..."

Five years since I had begun a new life in Eustonia. This was the first moment I set foot in a laboratory that was mine alone. I stretched, let out a small whoop, switched off the flashlight, and began ransacking every corner of the room.

"The Spirit Stones were here. The cage, here."

"And the bigger ones should be somewhere around..."

I had been helping Folton with his research for a full three months. Where everything in the laboratory sat, I had long since committed to memory. Gathering every material for the little experiment I meant to run tonight did not take long at all.

"Hnnngh. Ugh...!"

With every ounce of strength I had, I hauled the rather heavy lumps of Spirit Stone up onto the desk, and set beside them the cage meant to confine a spirit. Last of all, I climbed onto a chair so I could watch what was about to unfold. The preparations were complete. I reached toward the gathered Spirit Stones and whispered into the empty air.

"Spirit Creation."

From the moment it began to collide with eight worlds, the Earth of my past life had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠moved to protect itself. It scattered its own power across the entire world and bestowed a possibility upon every living thing. The translucent message floating before my eyes—Spirit Creation—was one of the countless possibilities that had bloomed from that gift.

It was the only ability I had possessed in my previous life, and a talent whose existence I confirmed anew upon being born in Eustonia. A power engraved upon the soul itself ran down my slender arm and unfurled into the world. Mana bound within the Spirit Stones came loose and began to intertwine in the empty air. Flashes and lingering afterglows, shimmers and brilliance, collided and breathed vitality into the vacant cage.

At last, when the light that had flooded the laboratory subsided entirely, an unfamiliar voice resounded through the room. It was the thing I had most wanted to do in my past life: the moment a grand spirit synthesis, fed by a vast quantity of Spirit Stones, succeeded.