Chapter 67: The End...?

At that moment, the battlefield came to a standstill.

Everyone—even the mechanical soldiers—was struck speechless by what they saw, frozen in place.

The one who shattered absolute calculations was a girl’s single, pitch-black flash of a blade.

That one slash had brought something new to the chaotic battlefield: a new kind of stagnation.

――As I watched the scene unfold, a thought came to me.

Kizuna and Rene.

Just as I once told the barbarian girl Piska by the lakeside, I consider the relationship between those two to be a precarious one. It resembles codependency, yet it is something different. Yes... if I had to compare it to something, I would call it a “mirror.”

Kizuna sees himself through Rene. Rene sees herself through Kizuna. Neither of them has their memories, so they recognize who they are through one another.

It is an illusory relationship, one that exists only through a thin, fragile mirror.

The moment either one of them—or both—regains their memories and recognizes who they truly are, won't that relationship shatter as easily as a broken mirror? That vague anxiety has lingered in the back of my mind, refusing to go away.

And yet...

I've also come to realize that this peculiar relationship is by no means something ugly and contemptible. On the contrary, it is something beautiful.

A mirror does more than reflect oneself. It also allows us to observe ourselves objectively and encourages us to change.

We look in a mirror while applying makeup, straightening our clothes, or styling our hair... Through a mirror, we perform all sorts of acts to improve ourselves. The reflection of who we are “now” can also guide us toward what comes “next.”

That is exactly what Kizuna and Rene are doing.

Without a doubt, Kizuna would never have entrusted someone other than Rene with that charge so readily—not even if he had been certain of victory. He's simply too kindhearted. The moment he considers the possibility that someone might get hurt, he hesitates.

Rene, too, would never have charged toward a destination indicated by anyone other than Kizuna—not for any reason. After all, she has no memories, and therefore cannot have confidence in her own abilities.

But Kizuna did it because it was Rene. And Rene did it because it was Kizuna.

Their relationship is unlike that of friends, lovers, or spouses. It is a kind of bond that ordinarily should be impossible to establish. Two people whose pasts remain unclear trust each other more than they trust themselves. Through the existence of the other, they define who they are, and together they press forward toward a shared goal. It is an inexplicable, almost unreal relationship.

And yet, precisely because of that...

Because that strike came from a move born of a relationship that should never have been possible, no one could predict it or stop it. It had even surpassed the perfect calculations of Machine City.

I don't know whether the relationship between those two is right or wrong. It doesn't feel like something that can be judged in terms of good and evil, either.

But today, at this moment, and for this instant alone...

――That single flash of a blade was, without a doubt, the “VICTOR.”

I understood that through the tightly pursed lips of the barbarian girl watching the two of them.

And so, although that wasn't the reason...

Never, ever, under any circumstances. It was absolutely NOT because I wanted to drag the consciousness of a girl whose mind was clearly somewhere else back into the battle. Not even one percent. No, really!

It was simply because this was the optimal move necessary for victory. Nothing more.

At any rate, I...

Shouted at the top of my lungs.

"Now's your chance, Himeros―――!"

"...! Stop hiding away already! Hurry up and help us, GRANDPA――!!"

Immediately afterward...

The boy's words, shouted toward the green sphere of light...

Reached their destination without fail.

Deep within the forest of stagnation.

Even in the chaotic world where all manner of things gathered, the flow of time treated everything equally and mercilessly, sweeping it all away.

Feelings, memories, lives――everything withered away in the passage of time.

Once, there was a man hailed as the strongest elf.

And just like countless other young people, regardless of their world or race, he too had yearned to leave the boring forest, where he had no one left to compete against, and venture outside to test his own abilities.

But he never did.

He couldn't.

His father, the previous elder, had fallen ill and returned to the earth while the man was still young.

To preserve the peace his grandfather, father, and ancestors had protected for generations, and to pass it on to those who came after him, he succeeded his father as the leader of the elves.

The man completely suppressed his own feelings and chose to live as a guardian.

From then on, he devoted himself to protecting the forest's stagnation. He watched season after season pass, seeing one acquaintance after another depart before him. He lived through a long, long――almost unfathomable span of years.

His youthful desire to “see the world beyond the forest.” The passion he had once felt so strongly that he believed he would never yield it to anyone... None of it remained. It had withered away long, long ago.

To be honest, the old man still did not believe that the “stagnation” he had spent his life protecting was wrong.

Even when his own grandson rejected it. Even when the overwhelming threat of Machine City drew near. Even when the very spirit he worshipped voiced its disapproval.

Even so, the old man would not admit it. His will and courage had withered too much for him to find the strength to deny the life he had lived.

That's right.

That's how it was.

Everything withers away in the passage of time――

"Stop hiding away already! Hurry up and help us, Grandpa――!!"

――And yet, that was precisely why it was passed down.

The old man knew this. With his aged eyes, he had watched countless times as new buds sprouted from withered trees.

Look. Someone who had inherited the old man's blood had ventured beyond the forest, driven by the very same desire the old man once held, despite never having been taught or told about it.

Living, nurturing, dying, and being succeeded. That “cycle of stagnation” was the very essence of life. An absolute truth that remained unchanged, no matter how different the world.

And therefore――

He did not believe the stagnation of this forest was wrong. The old man would not admit otherwise.

Even so...

There was no reason, anywhere in this world, why the young buds inheriting the future should be cut down before the old trees.

And therefore――

――And therefore, the dragon of the great tree appeared.

Using the magical energy his grandson had accumulated to “break through stagnation,”

the old man adorned himself with the World Tree, the “symbol of peace” worshipped by the elves,

and, by his own will,

broke the absolute “law” and stepped beyond the forest.

The World Tree Dragon and the Mechanical Giant.

It was truly a battle between two “worlds.”

The histories they had woven, the civilizations they had built, the feelings they had passed down――all of it collided, with everything at stake.

To recount the details of that battle, the words of a mere person... of this great chronicler, are woefully inadequate.

But no matter.

One world proclaimed “innovation,” yet, without relying on the “unknown,” could only arrive at a solution that clung to relics of the past.

The other world was trapped in “stagnation,” yet, with the help of “them,” took a single step toward new possibilities.

There is no need to explain which of the two would emerge victorious. The answer is plain to see.

Therefore,

I, the chronicler, shall calmly and dutifully record only the result in my diary.

The city of “innovation” was defeated because of the “stagnation” within itself.

The forest of “stagnation” emerged victorious because of the “innovation” that had grown within itself.

The title of this tale shall be――“The Idealism of ‘Innovation’ and ‘Stagnation.’”

And with that, the curtain falls.

Suppose, hypothetically, that this closed story were to have a continuation.

Such a thing could only be an unnecessary appendage――and would rightly be described as “MALICE.”

Chronicler: Akuru Irmphis

"Now, now! Gather round, everyone! Let us begin the greatest show of all!"

"What begins here is an opening no one asked for! An encore without applause! The name of this performance is――‘Malice’! Now, now, the show is about to begin!"