N Years, The Weakest Body and an Indomitable Spirit - 1
A while after the day of the secret negotiation between the hero and the Demon King.
Frey knelt before the Demon King Kanos. The continent raged, but their powerless fury was nothing more than the screams of the weak. One by one, the continent fell.
Kanos bound his loyal right arm, Oscar, framing him with various false charges under the authority of the Demon King.
In a trial where the prosecutor, the defense, the accuser, and the judge were all Kanos, the only thing Oscar could do was fight back with force. And that was also what Kanos had hoped for.
Because in accordance with the promise he had made with Frey, before sending Joker back in time, he wanted to see Oscar's level. The martial prowess of Oscar, called the second-in-command of the world. And his potential for growth.
"Screw you! Kanos! I don't know what scheme you're using to lock me up, but there's no way I'm going to accept some shoddy trick like that!"
"Your will is not important. The mere fact that I 'intend to do it' means the future where you are executed is as good as decided. That is what fate is."
"Eat shit! Fate? If that's what fate is, I'll chew it up and spit it out! Ah, should I take out your gold teeth? You can sell them at a pawn shop and use it for surgery costs!"
"Oscar. Fight back for all you're worth."
Sharak—
"Who the hell is Oscar! Right now, I'm Chaos!"
"…You used the Joker Card."
Oscar used all his power to target Kanos's throat. A cataclysm occurred—the sky split and the earth collapsed.
Every time Oscar wiggled a finger or swung back and threw a fully loaded punch, explosions erupted. Like a monkey, Oscar bounded this way and that, traversing the battlefield.
Kanos, in the position of punishing him, did not go all out from the beginning. His purpose was to ascertain Oscar's objective level.
Kurrrung—!
"Kyaaah!"
"Oscar—no, Chaos. Struggle. At your absolute maximum."
"You arrogant bastard! You've already transcended the measure of a Demon King! The Demon God himself would tremble before you!"
"Is that all?"
"Hell no! I'm still… cough! Ah, damn Merlin. Who puts a curse like this on someone, still making me convulse…!"
One-tenth, two-tenths, three-tenths, four-tenths… As Kanos raised his power output, cracks began to appear in the space around them, and Oscar's body was torn to shreds.
An egg against a boulder. The violent disparity became more and more pronounced.
One hour and twenty-five minutes after the fight broke out—and when Kanos's output reached sixty percent—Oscar was finally subdued. Around that time, Kanos's eyes held a glimmer of surprise and anticipation.
With his limbs torn apart and his body a wrecked mess, Oscar panted roughly and spoke.
"What… the hell…! Just how strong are you…!"
"About six-tenths. This is the first time I've used this much power."
"A Demon King, a creation of the Demon God, producing power beyond the Demon God…! Are you even really the Demon King?! What the hell is your identity…!"
"Shh. Shut your mouth. Oscar Lucifer. You will now be escorted to Tartarus."
Kanos's cold sentencing. A wide grin spread across Oscar's lips.
"Hahahahaha! Yeah! With this much, I'm perfectly willing to die! But don't get it twisted! I may die, but death is not an end—it's a beginning! Someday, I will return! And I will bite off your head, Kanos!"
Leaving those final words, the Northern Grand Duke of the demon realm, Oscar Lucifer, was imprisoned in Tartarus. With a sentence of 111 days.
About 104 days after that, Maria, the saint and daughter of the Holy Order who had been resisting millions of the Demon King's army all on her own, was finally captured. Kanos sent the saint Maria to Tartarus of Babel Tower. Just as he had planned with Frey.
Three days before the simultaneous execution of the two, Frey visited Tartarus. Frey disguised herself as a hero consumed by jealousy and inferiority, and her few actions during her academy days lent credibility to that mask.
She even drew her sword as if consumed by rage. There was no killing intent. Frey's purpose was to draw Oscar and Maria closer together.
She willingly played the villain, and the result was a success. Oscar set out to peel away the hero's 'dual mask' by provoking Frey having bullied Maria, and in response, Maria even brought out the Shield of the Sun for Oscar.
Of course, unlike Oscar—who hadn't had much connection with Frey—Maria, who had always stuck close to Frey, noticed something was off. Maria felt a 'sense of discord' in Frey's actions. That discord later led her to speculate that Frey was behind the regression.
Oscar picked up on Maria's unease. But he hadn't directly asked her about it, so he couldn't interpret it accurately and misunderstood.
He assumed that Maria knew about Frey's 'dual mask' but was acting innocent as if she knew nothing—thinking that if Frey were to go berserk, his own life might be in danger.
The day after Frey's visit, Kanos also visited Tartarus. It was to make them—more precisely, Oscar—comprehend that he was their 'enemy'. In the process, he put on the mask of a heartless political power-holder, but Maria did slap some sense into him.
On the day of execution, Frey and Kanos went to the Temple of Time. They summoned Chronos, the God of Time, and waited for the prepared 111 days to be fulfilled.
They rewound time to coincide with the exact moment Oscar and Maria were executed simultaneously. The targets of the regression were four: the Demon King Kanos, the God of Time Chronos, Joker Oscar, and the hero Frey. But they did not know—did not know that Saint Maria would insert herself into that regression.
"Hoh? An uninvited guest has hitched a ride on the flow."
"Chronos? What do you mean…?"
"What do I mean? I mean Saint Maria has boarded the time-travel train. She's got good instincts. Picking up on us in that short time. As I always say, the world sure is interesting."
"Th-then…! What price will you demand?!"
"That's for me to figure out now. Hero Frey de Zikfried, you just fulfill your promise to me. Don't focus on extraneous things."
"Tch…!"
Kanos, standing above Chronos, was exempt from the laws of causality, but the others were not. In particular, Frey—who bore the destiny of having to bear even Oscar's causality—had to accept a price that was by no means light.
"It's 500 years. How old are you?"
"…Twenty-eight."
"Then think of it as living roughly twenty times the life you've lived so far. Don't forget. If you lose even a single time, the causality will warp and the rewound time will be restored. That is my 'restriction'."
"So defeat is not permitted."
"The place you'll be going is the Divine Realm. A blessed land. After a fight, your body will automatically heal itself, but your mind won't. Clench your teeth and be prepared. The fate of the world rests on your shoulders. I, the God of Time, set the causality in motion, but its weight is fixed. That is not my domain."
"…."
"Just so you know, I'm rooting for you, young hero. I'm a 'god' created by this world's faith, and if you fail to endure that causality, I'll be destroyed by that damn Demon King's hands. So I picked the lightest causality possible. Well, it's still the lightest among heavy ones."
Listening to Chronos's few sincere words, Frey headed to the Divine Realm, and Kanos headed to the Demon Realm. Oscar also returned to his childhood in the Demon Realm, and Maria, a soul with nowhere to go, was bound to the Spirit Realm.
Thus, the world—
Burying the return of the defeated, to create a round where all the main actors of this world would be victorious—
Went back to the past.
"…That's everything, Maria."
"…."
"I'm sorry. Sending you to Joker, ordering him to damage your eyes… even if I had ten mouths, I'd have no excuse. If you want to curse me, curse me. If you want to hit me, hit me. Whatever revenge you choose, I'll accept it."
Frey's calm confession came to an end. Though her tone surged like waves, rising and falling with emotion in the middle, Frey held back the feelings welling up and confessed the past until the very end.
Frey's golden eyes closed like a child waiting for punishment after committing a wrong. Right now, she was afraid of the resentment from Maria that would follow.
But Maria's response was far from what Frey had expected.
Woooung—
"…?"
"Oh great and merciful Lord, your precious and pitiable lamb… has grown weak while following a noble will. Please bestow your loving grace, pour down the waters of healing, and grant shelter."
A clear voice politely reciting a prayer resounded. White holy power rose in a cloud and seeped into Frey's wounds. Her creaking knees began moving as smoothly as if oiled, and vitality was injected into the girl's exhausted body.
Startled, Frey raised her head. In her line of sight was Maria, looking at her with an endlessly gentle smile.
"How could you have decided on such a dangerous matter without consulting me?"
"You… you're forgiving me…? After what I did to you…?"
"For a person who cannot repent for their past mistakes, the 'past' must be endlessly revisited, but if that is not the case, then the 'future' to move forward is more important."
"But… Maria, the wounds you received… and besides, you, you must have suffered for the past five hundred years too…"
"Surely, not as much as you, Hero."
Maria did not get angry, nor scold, nor lose her temper. Instead, with an infinitely generous smile, she embraced Frey's exhausted body.
"You're hurt. So much that even holy power can't heal it."
"Ah, this? It's fine. Anyway, in the Divine Realm, all wounds heal quickly. Even this much will be fine after resting a few hours…"
"No. I mean your soul. You're very hurt."
"…."
Frey's trembling eyes met Maria's straight white irises. As if those round eyes were too heavy, Frey dropped her gaze. Maria lifted her hand and pulled the deeply bowed head into her arms.
"You've worked so hard."
"…!"
Just one sentence. No more than seven syllables—but it melted the frozen lock on Frey's heart, little by little. It could be seen as an oasis appearing in a barren wasteland where not a single drop of rain had fallen.
It had been a lonely battle. Every day she fought monsters she'd never seen before, wearing down like a rock being chiseled by a nail hammer. A pressure and responsibility close to terror weighed down on her shoulders. The 'condition' that she must not lose even once carried a weight beyond imagination.
Just fighting—a repetition of fighting days. As that continued for years, dozens of years, hundreds of years, Frey's soul inevitably eroded. It couldn't be helped. Loneliness was like a leech that gnawed at the human soul.
The more Frey won, the more the gods cheered and celebrated her—but that was not what Frey wished for. Because at the same time they cheered, they brought new monsters for her to face.
Above all, the pressure was the greatest burden.
The lives of the entire continent rested on her shoulders. The gods kept throwing unheard-of, bizarre monsters into the arena—where they got them from was unknown—but things never improved. She did gain experience and learned know-how to suppress monsters more easily, but know-how wasn't everything.
There was a time she won with only her teeth after all her limbs had been crushed. There was a time she had her upper and lower body separated and barely managed to behead the enemy with a single sword aura. Life-and-death struggles balanced on a razor's edge. Frey had experienced them countless times.
Going through such hardships, it would be a lie to say she never thought, 'I want to give up.' Whenever she felt that way, Frey erased the distracting thoughts from her mind.
She must not step back, must not hesitate, must not give up. Because she was not standing here for her own safety or fame.
The lives of the entire continent were at stake. The moment she thought, 'What if I lose?' all sorts of hopeless imagination spread its wings. She had to erase those primal distracting thoughts.
The statement, 'Defeat cannot be tolerated' was the same as 'Every single time I swing my sword, I must give it my full concentration.' If ordinary people feel strange tension and abdominal pain during an interview or exam, for Frey, every single moment was a day of testing.
An exam where even one wrong answer meant instant failure. Maintaining that razor-sharp concentration eternally was pain that no torture could compare to.
That pain—which no one had ever acknowledged—
"From now on, I will help you too."
"Hic, sob…!"
"You've been through so much."
Now she met someone who finally acknowledged it, empathized with it, and soothed her for the first time.
Jureureuk—
Clear droplets poured from the hero's eyes.
The young girl, for the first time in five hundred years, sobbed her heart out.