The Prelude
So it was. Thus, I once again set foot upon the path of my journey. Though I had left everyone behind and become alone once more, destined to walk this arduous road in solitude, this time was different. This time, it was because I had to. Because I had chosen it. Because I had accepted it. It was undeniably different from before.
I had a dream I must achieve. I had an ideal I must grasp. And to seize it all with these hands, I would endure any absurdity or suffering that came my way. If only I could protect everyone. The journey that began to safeguard humanity had grown into one meant to protect both races, yet my heart remained unchanged, unwavering. Because I had always loved you all. But, but—this was far too long a journey to walk in human time.
Water that had never fully drained from my shoes sloshed inside, steadily soaking my feet. My completely drenched hair and tattered clothes clung to me, trying to drag me back down beneath the surface. Yet I stumbled, pushed off the ground again, and thrust my upper body forward. “...Haa.”
Exhaling a warm breath into the cold air, watching the white plume dissipate, I leaned forward once more and pressed on. My feet were utterly swollen. The seawater’s salt had cracked my nails, and all moisture had fled my throat, so that every breath felt like a blade scraping raw flesh. Though my body felt parched to the bone from the maddening thirst and pain, such sensations would vanish if I simply closed my eyes.
What truly tormented me was the fact that I had only seven years left. That this civilization had only seven years remaining. The anguish that would not fade even with eyes shut was the memories of Yustitia, Karman, Jeren, Pietro, Marian, Sevia, Felt, Kain, Evan, Selma, Yuz, Siphel, Chris, and Yuda—memories that still shimmered before me. The joyful recollections of sharing mulled wine warmed slowly over a hearth, of secretly mixing it into Siphel’s cocoa because she still clung to a child’s palate, and of the times we spent together in the Demon King’s castle—memories to which I could never return.
The small pains and discomforts afflicting my body now were nothing compared to those memories turned to scars. The memories of the women in the Demon King’s castle had not become scars for me, but in their hearts, the memory of me would become a scar. And one day, when I met them again, I would wage a battle that would leave scars upon all their hearts.
“····”
Yet even so, I crossed the Bridge of Return with courage. I pushed through the storm, escaped the gulf teeming with sea monsters, and drew near the sunlit shore. Because for a heart as riddled with scars as mine, there existed at least one certainty: that I would never turn the memories of those women into scars as well. However, no possibility of that existed. The only things that existed were faith in that outcome and the intangible trust that I would make it so.
In other words, I had not fled that place to fight. I had not left to carve deep scars into their hearts. I had not returned to humanity to stand against them. What I desired was, above all, harmony for everyone—a world where all could love one another with hearts free of excess. To create that, I had departed carrying everyone’s hearts and farewells in my chest. To create that, to struggle for one final gamble, I had broken free. Therefore—
“Haa···, ha·····, haa·······”
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you, I miss you. Yustitia. Karman, Jeren. As the Caspia border region came into view and drew nearer, I recalled the various incidents and memories that had occurred there, exhaling ragged breaths that felt as though my throat were tearing—yet my mind held only, only—
“Kain···· haha····, that’s right··”
—the memory of meeting Kain here and the amusing recollections born from the time we all stayed briefly in this place.
In the end, squelch—my feet left the bridge of corpses and landed upon the sandy beach. Thud—unable to withstand the sensation of my feet sinking in, I collapsed forward like a puppet with its strings cut. “·····” I began to push myself up from the sand to rise again. As though the ground itself had adhered to me, I strained to lift my face, then “····” paused for a moment to brush the fine golden grains of the beach—still unaccustomed to such vibrant beauty—before dusting the powder from my face and thud—once more stamping the ground, staggering yet forcing my body upright.
From the vantage where Caspia’s distinctive terrain spread before me, I felt an inexplicable elation, then—again—took a stumbling step forward, driven solely by the sense of duty that I must keep moving. Thud—! Yet “···· ah.” Was my body at its limit? The city was still far away; the border garrison was still distant. Yet when I tried to straighten my knees, my legs would no longer accept any strength. From the very beginning, all sensation had long since fled my legs. So I gazed for a moment at my pale limbs and murmured, “Just a little more···· just a little more····” If only there had been a little more muscle. If only there had been just a tiny bit more muscle, then perhaps I would not have collapsed so pointlessly, so emptily. With that sigh, flop—my arms, too, failed to support me, and I collapsed onto the sand like a screw drawn to a magnet.
“····” It was still too far for anyone to find me. So I tried to crawl forward, even a little more, a little more, hoping someone would discover me—hoping someone would find me before I died. Having spent what felt like four days crossing that impossibly long bridge, my condition was dire. Clinging desperately to a consciousness that threatened to snap at any moment, slide—just like that day. The day I first met the Demon King, fought her for the first and last time, and was defeated. Just as I had crawled across the floor, wretched yet courageous, resolved to survive, I tried to drag my body forward with one arm, attempting to crawl ahead. But, as expected, just like that day when I had given up—
“Ah, ugh····” My vision was too blurred. Was it the aftereffect of enduring so long upon the sea? The aftereffect of prolonged exposure to harsh conditions without a proper robe? Even with their protection, my frail body simply could not endure. It had been impossible to withstand such a violent storm with nothing but flesh. Still, still—this could not be the end. My story had not even begun yet; only the prelude had played. The era when I was a hero had reached its chorus, but my present as Karia had not even finished its prelude. Therefore, I forced my hazy vision to focus once more and clutched the sand with both hands. But at that moment, I felt as though the taut rubber bands of every muscle in my body had snapped. “Kkgh——” My vision went dark.
“····” Truly, it seemed I had reached my limit. Only the labored thump, thump of my heartbeat echoed in my ears; nothing else could be felt. Truly, truly—must it end like this? No matter how I tried to move my eyelids, my body no longer obeyed anywhere. I had pushed myself far too hard. If I collapsed now, unable to withstand the overload, then what could I possibly do if I could not even manage this? Nothing. So I had struggled desperately to accomplish at least this much. Yet “Haa····· ha····” Even the sound of my own breathing began to scatter into the air. No sound, no heartbeat could be heard. Now, now—what could I do? At the very least, I had wanted to reach the city of Caspia. But now, I “····” had no choice but to hope that someone would find me. That someone, anyone, would find me, take me away, and treat me. It was mortifying, but there was nothing I could do. So from now on, I would entrust everything to fate. I had already done everything I could until crossing this bridge. Therefore, please—please, let someone find this place····
Yet had someone answered my desperate wish? Just before my consciousness completely faded, slide— “Hehe~” A voice laced with laughter, as though harboring strange intentions, reached me from somewhere. “What on earth is this···” Muttering softly to herself, she seemed to roll my collapsed body over and examine it from various angles. “Why would such a cute girl be in a place like this····” When I managed, with great difficulty, to flutter my eyelids open just a sliver, she said, “Oh, you’re awake···.” Taking a water bottle from her bag, she began pouring it into my mouth. For some reason—some reason—“Did you sleep well?” She wore an eerie smile that any being with emotions would instinctively fear, and her eyes were so deep and dark that no emotional being could accept them. With half her face hidden beneath bangs gently stirred by the sea breeze, her hair—long enough to reach her waist—tied into twin tails, she murmured, “You can’t drink properly···” Gazing down at me with a pitying look as I lay collapsed and helpless, she slide—without the slightest hesitation, took water into her own mouth and “Haup——” “———” pressed her lips directly to mine, helping me drink little by little, allowing me to take in the fresh water.
I closed my eyes tightly for a moment, overwhelmed by the unbelievable coolness of drinking proper water for the first time in days, then began to feel an equally unbelievable sweetness from within her mouth. Slightly flustered, I opened my eyes again. Only then could I properly see her pupils. “····” I wanted to believe it was a mistake, to dismiss it as such, but it was already too clear to deny. Her pupils—her pupils nearly filled her entire irises. As though they would completely devour my reflection within them. Who. Who are you? What exactly is your identity?