Arima Kanna (2)
‘…….’
As the sun that had lit up the world dipped below the horizon, the sky started to grow dim.
I glanced around.
Most of the shops were already shutting off their lights or wrapping up for the day.
From this angle, it really didn't feel any different from reality.
"What if I told you this world isn't real?"
"Oh, you mean the unreality theory?"
"Yeah, something like that."
Mana, monster gates—one of the fields always churning out new theories.
Stuff like the simulation hypothesis or holographic principle.
"Hm, I'm not really sold on it. The relic creation theory was the most plausible one, I guess?"
Relic Creation Theory.
Relics are the highest concept of all, containing the power called 'Laws.' And one theory tied to that is the relic creation theory.
It's the idea that gates, monsters, and mana weren't created by relics. Gates and mana have already been analyzed to a decent degree.
From classifying gate types like labyrinths, towers, and dungeons, to special ones like Gold Gates.
Mana's one of the most researched powers out there too. It's the key to innovations from teleportation—once just a pipe dream—to all sorts of tech.
Well, technically it's 'magic' more than raw mana.
Monsters are similar. We know the ecology and breeding methods for some, and we've even replicated 'artificial monsters.'
But 'Laws' remain a total mystery. That's where relic creation theory comes in: maybe someone used a relic beyond Transcendent grade to build this world.
My head was starting to ache.
"Sorry for the boring talk."
Arima Kanna flashed a grin at my words.
"As long as you get it."
Then she continued.
"You know, I've wanted to be a hero since I was little?"
"……."
"A hero who saves the world. Cool, right? But lately, I've been wondering if I really have to be one.
At some point, I got more into being recognized than actually saving people."
I already knew that.
"Because of the guild?"
"What? Was it that obvious?"
Arima Kanna cautiously tilted her head up to gaze at the sky. The city's harsh lights meant there wasn't a single star visible, though.
"Yeah, I don't want to inherit the guild. Truth is, I wished my brother would take it instead.
Anyone who knows knows—I didn't inherit any of the Arima family traits. Not the golden eyes or the beast transformation or anything."
Arima Kanna closed her eyes and let out a breath.
"It's kinda funny, but I had it all wrong. Embarrassing as it is, I had some real talent as a kid.
But... at some point, I realized my brother, born with those golden eyes... hm...."
Arima Kanna gave a wry smile.
"This is a secret, but I'm actually the older sister."
The Arima family has one tradition: the firstborn inherits the family legacy.
"Black eyes can't beat golden eyes.... The moment I first lost to Arima Kisho—who'd never even held a sword—and hit the floor, I got it. I didn't want to be a hero; I just loved winning. I wanted recognition, to soar higher. So even though I hated it, I decided to take the guild. Because putting 'Shinsen' at the top of the world? That'd feel amazing."
Arima Kanna rose from the bench and slowly approached me. Then she stared right into my eyes.
"Yi Han-su, you're the most outstanding student I've ever seen. You might even fly higher than the genius Han Sia."
Arima Kanna slowly raised both hands. It felt like I was seeing something she'd always kept hidden, laid bare.
Her cool hands touched my cheeks.
"You're warm."
Then she leaned in closer. Her obsidian eyes looked deeper, more intense.
"Join Shinsen Guild. I'll make you the greatest hero. Even if you fall to the abyss or hell, I'll pull you back up. A hero who saves the world. Cool, right?"
Zzzt... zzzt...
Coincidence or not, the streetlamp by the bench flickered with a buzz. One moment it bathed us in light, the next it plunged us into shadow.
Just one light deciding brightness and darkness.
I could almost feel Tyrbing stirring inside me.
****
This pitch-black place all around was the Prayer Space.
And here waited a woman with long, flame-like red hair.
A woman known by the epithet 'Puppeteer.'
Crack... creak...
Beside the Puppeteer stood a massive figure. More machine than man, with twelve arms and three heads.
The archbishop of the flame priest order, emitting a unique mechanical whir with every movement.
Creak-! Crrrk...
As the sound of misaligned gears kept grinding on, the Puppeteer tilted her head.
"That's weird."
She'd definitely fixed it just recently.
The Puppeteer stopped manipulating the archbishop and opened his body, revealing hundreds of intricate mechanical parts.
Inside was something close to a demigod—or rather, not even a demigod.
Just a corpse.
The Puppeteer pulled a small flame from her bosom and breathed it into the corpse. The stalled parts sprang back to life.
Rattle, rattle-.
"You've been stalling more often lately, Your Grace."
The archbishop beamed at the Puppeteer's words and replied.
> ❸ⅤⅥ❹㎤◆ □ ■◈▣△
"Oh, right."
The Puppeteer had split her own soul and breathed it into her 'masterpiece.'
The one who'd taught her the great flame when she knew nothing of faith. Though dead, out of gratitude for that gift, the Puppeteer maintained and repaired him herself.
"Ah, sorry. I blacked out for a second."
The Puppeteer smiled brightly.
The archbishop nodded in understanding.
"You must be busy with all your work, Your Grace. I fixed it good, so no worries."
"……."
"……."
A strange silence hung in the Prayer Space. Then both burst into laughter at the same time.
"Hahaha!"
"Hahaha!"
Seemed they'd gotten mixed up. It happened sometimes when you played with puppets too much.
Last time, she'd accidentally acted like a grandpa in a kid's body and freaked out the parents. Or the reverse, acting childish in a grandpa's body and worrying the kids.
"Adjusted it again, so you're good now."
"That was a close one."
After the little mishap, the Puppeteer murmured softly.
"Ah... should I call the priests now?"
Knock knock.
The Puppeteer tapped the air like knocking, and the space cracked open, revealing a man.
Wearing a faceless mask and a golden prosthetic arm.
"You called?"
"……."
The Puppeteer stared at Allstain without a word. Eyes devoid of emotion.
Allstain glanced at the massive puppet beside her.
‘…….’
Then he bowed carefully, politely.
"Greetings, Your Grace."
Clap-!
The Puppeteer clapped happily, satisfied.
"Allstain, bring me the child with the flame in their heart."
"…Understood."
"Oh, and...."
"I'll bring Satain too."
The Puppeteer beamed at Allstain's words.
"Allstain, you get it without me spelling it out. Love that."
. . .
Boom-! Kwang-!
The place resounding with explosions was a small dojo in Mexico. And here, a bald man with hair that could never produce highlights swung a long spear.
Satain, the bald warrior.
Kwachik-! Kwajijik-!
Space shattered in the center of the dojo, and a man appeared.
"Hm?"
Satain glanced toward the presence.
"Come this way."
"Chad's already here?"
Satain stroked his chin. A faint whiff of alcohol—he'd clearly been drinking.
Satain was a battle maniac and a heavy drinker who loved a good fight.
"He's already here."
"I see."
****
Waiting in the middle of the desert, someone leaped out from a rift.
"You're already here, Chad."
I, masked and fully geared as Chad, nodded cautiously.
The Beast of Embers.... Realistically, judging by the mana I sensed from the bald guy, it shouldn't be an issue. But Bleach-style, it's Ikkaku and Chad duo—pretty grim.
‘Damn...!’
Shouldn't have gone with Chad. My spiritual pressure's already fading.
"Let's head out then."
The bald guy strode ahead confidently. Good thing he knew the way.