Dimensions Collide: Destiny Bond

Zero disappeared as the story concluded, his role now complete. There wasn’t a sound remaining in the bar. It was so quiet you could hear Prota’s breathing, along with the occasional drip of water from the tap. His face looked blank, but inwardly, he was fuming, frozen by an indescribable rage. He wasn’t even breathing, let alone moving.

Prota was sitting across from John, seemingly unaffected by her tale having been retold, but with a face like hers, it was impossible to tell. One look into her eyes said everything one needed to know. It still hurt. She was still afraid. She didn’t want to look up at John for fear of showing what she was feeling.

“Goddamn!” John yelled suddenly, slamming his fists on the table. “Fuck!”

Prota jumped, scared. She shrunk back, thinking that she’d done something wrong, but then looked into John’s eyes. Not knowing why, she reached out hesitantly. Slowly, trembling, she touched his hand. Just a single touch. Her hand shot back right away, but that one point of contact was more than enough. All at once, his tense body relaxed, his eyes focusing once more as he took in a deep breath of air.

“Ah. I… I- sorry about that,” John said, shaking his head.

“...?” Prota cocked her head to the side. “John… is angry?”

“No, I’m not mad at you, I’m-” John stopped as he saw Prota shaking her head. “What are you talking about?”

“John looked upset. John… John never gets upset.”

John recoiled as if he’d been accused of something terrible. But she was right. He’d gotten upset. Over what? A story? This was a [Character] in front of him, he had to remember. Since when did he get upset about something like this?

And since when did he show something like that so openly?

He got up and looked out the window, the sun setting. People were walking by. None of them were looking into the bar, but he could see them going about their daily lives. There were so many of them, to the point that even if he tried, he would’ve never been able to remember all of them. In a group like this, they were numbers. Statistics. Unmemorable, unnoticeable, and forgettable.

He continued to watch, but the streets didn’t grow any less busy.

“I’ll help you, Prota,” John said suddenly. “I’ll help you find your sister.”

“...?”

“You said you wanted to stay, right? You want me to help you find your sister? Fine. Let’s do it.”

Prota stared for a bit, momentarily stunned. She’d asked for help, but she hadn’t expected such a sudden response. For a moment, she didn’t even understand what John was saying, but after a moment, she realized that he was offering what she wanted.

Help.

“A- ah, ok…”

John walked over, sitting across from Prota once again.

“Haah… I didn’t think I’d be getting involved with demons. Well, I suppose it was inevitable in a world like this.”

Prota cocked her head to the side.

“Ignore me. Don’t worry about it. You want to rescue your sister, right?”

Prota nodded.

“Fine. We’ll do that.”

Prota’s heart rose. So soon?

“But not now. It’ll take a few years.”

That caught her off guard. What?

“Did you- have you thought this through? Like, at all? Prota. You’re… what, six? You’re a child. I’m not quite sure what’s up with kids being combat monsters in all these fantasy worlds, but I’m personally not quite for all that, especially when said kid is in front of me like this.”

Prota stared at John. What was he rambling on about?

“That being said, this is something you want to do, so what do I know? But look at yourself. You’re frail. You’re weak. Do you even know how to use magic? We can’t rely on that special ability of yours the whole journey through. You need to train. You need to learn.”

He beckoned for her to follow him upstairs, and then he pulled out a scroll from his bookshelf. Blowing the dust off the top, he unfurled it to reveal an application letter.

“I got this as a reward for being part of the demon worshipper subjugation squad, among other things, but since I don’t have a mana core, it was useless. Well, maybe it’ll turn out to be useful now.” He looked up at Prota. “This is an application letter to Scholaris. Have you ever heard of it?”

Prota’s eyes widened. There wasn’t a single child who hadn’t heard of it.

Scholaris, the school of the ancients and Mystics, was a school where only the top went to learn magic and battle. Anyone who was anyone went there. It was a school that brought out the best in you. Admission was based on potential talent, not skill. It wasn’t a place that was just for show. It was a school that supposedly brought out your full potential.

“I’m going to teach you how to read, how to write… honestly, I know nothing about Scholaris. But surely it’ll help, right?”

Prota seemed overwhelmed with all of the info John was giving her. Why was he talking about all this? What was the point?

“...confused? Look, you need to understand. We can’t just snap our fingers and make you strong. This isn’t a story- scratch that. This isn’t that kind of story. You need to be strong. You want to save your sister, right? How are you going to do that the way you are?”

“I…”

“You need to be strong. Not just strong enough to win one fight. You want to save your sister. So you need to be strong enough to protect her from anyone who tries to take her away from you.”

“Protect…”

Protect. A foreign word to someone like Prota. She’d never even considered such a thing. It was all about survival for a year. The reason why was obvious. For an entire year, she hadn’t been able to protect anyone. Not herself, not her parents, not the people she’d killed…

Not her sister.

She hadn’t realized it, but this was a source of shame for her. She’d failed to protect everything she held dear. Everything, gone. Lost. Destroyed. And now here she was, being given a second chance. She could find her sister. She could protect what she held close to her once more.

How could she refuse?

John looked at Prota. He couldn’t really tell what she was thinking based on her facial expression, but something seemed to have changed.

“So you understand?”

Prota turned to John. “...John, too.”

“...what?”

“I’ll protect you, too,” Prota said. “I’ll become strong enough to protect everyone.”

John looked at Prota. The statement was so childish to the point that he would’ve called it delusion. However, he refrained from doing so. Delusion, in a world like this? Prota protecting him wasn’t the most ridiculous thing he’d heard.

“You’ll protect me, huh?” He looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll hold you to that. From now on, you’re my protector, all right? I expect you to keep me safe.”

Prota nodded twice. John didn’t know it at the time, but this was a great show of energy for her. She only ever nodded once at a time.

John got up from his seat and walked towards the door. “Alright. Let’s get started.”

~~~

“Aiden was killed?”

The mercenary’s guild was a dark place. It looked clean, but anyone who knew anything knew that it stank of blood, death and money. Jobs were given, and jobs were taken, no questions asked. It didn’t matter what the job was. All that mattered was that you got paid.

There wasn’t exactly a lot of comradery between the people in the building. They died all the time, after all. They were handymen, doing the dirty jobs of those who paid enough money. They weren’t respected by the public, but respect wasn’t what they were going for. However, there were those who garnered a sort of fame among the mercenaries. Those who were good at their jobs, those who were reliable, their names stuck out as professionals who knew what they were doing.

Aiden Freyen was one of those names.

“He was hired by the nobles to take care of some bartender.”

“A bartender? Seriously? Aiden took a job like that?”

“I heard a ridiculous amount of money was being offered.”

“So what are you saying? Aiden was killed by some bartender?”

“Beats me.”

~~~

Prota had been all excited at first, but soon grew confused. For six months, they did nothing but rest and recover. It was a journey, not of combat, but of healing. It wasn’t as if she wasn’t learning anything. John taught Prota how to read and how to do simple math, and to his surprise, she was quite the quick learner. Prota often heard John muttering something about “protagonist” and “lazy writing,” but she was never curious enough to look into it.

John also prioritized Prota’s health. He was somewhat strict about her learning, but whenever her health was an issue, all matters regarding her work were dropped. He made sure she was eating well, sleeping well, moving well, checking that her body was regaining muscle and growing properly. They watched as her hollowed cheeks began to fill in, her ribcage slowly fading, her stamina improving, and while it wasn’t quite there yet, she was slowly becoming a normal girl.

As she grew physically, it seemed she was also growing emotionally. She never voluntarily made contact with him, but she didn’t mind him giving her a head pat here and there, and she let him comb her hair or help her if she stumbled. Her face remained as monotone as always, but somehow, their communication seemed to improve. Her sentences usually consisted of less than ten words, but John was beginning to understand what she wanted with what little words she gave. More than that, her eyes were capable of expressing how she was feeling, even without her face changing, and John was picking up on that, too.

And while John was noticing all these changes, Prota was noticing changes within John. He would’ve never realized the things he was doing differently, but Prota did. He laughed a bit more. His smile wasn’t as present, but he felt a little more genuine. A little more kind. His actions didn’t feel as forced, and his facial expressions didn’t feel as fake. It’d taken Prota a while to be able to differentiate between genuine and not, but she was learning.

At the end of those six months, Prota was a new girl. No more was the girl who’d lived in poverty on the streets for a year; this Prota was healthy and clean, still a little skinny, still a little frail, but she’d improved immensely from the time she’d met John till now. She looked so different that it was safe for her to go out and move around.

That wasn’t the end of it, though.

~~~

“Hey, guys,” John said as the old demon worshipper subjugation squad was assembled in his bar. “This is Prota. She’s, ah… my little sister. Yeah.”

“You have a little sister?” Hestia laughed. “And you never introduced her? What, is she some kind of secret weapon like you?”

“Hestia, she’s a kid. What do you think I am?”

“And why haven’t you introduced her to us after all this time?”

“Don’t worry about it,” John said dismissively, glancing at Grey, who looked away. “Anyways.”

“Ok. You guys are gonna call me crazy, but… I want to send her to Scholaris.”

John’s statement was met with an immediate flurry of talk.

“Hah! That school of prissies? What for?”

“...the swordsmen they produce aren’t the greatest,” Gale said quietly. “But it’s true that their mages are excellent, and their instructors are incredible.”

“Their professors have wise advice. The mystics are beings that are beyond our mortal lives.”

Grey looked at John. “Are you trying to make her strong?”

“What do you think?”

Gorm nodded silently, watching the little girl carefully. She was hugging onto John’s leg, nervous at being put in front of so many people at once, but she showed no signs of anything special. He smiled kindly at her, and she seemed to relax just a little.

“Then it’s a good choice for her. But that doesn’t explain anything. So you want to send her to Scholaris. So what? Why are we here?”

John cleared his throat and continued. “So, uh… I was wondering if you could, you know, train her. Just a little.”

“What’s a little, John?” Gorm frowned. He was beating around the bush. That wasn’t a good sign.

“...six months?”

The entire group stared at John as if he had gone mad.

“Look. She’s not exactly very fit. She had a, um, rare disease for most of her life. So she was in bed a lot. Yeah. She recovered recently, but she’s very weak, and to go to Scholaris in that state…”

“Hm… I understand where you’re coming from. But what’s in it for us?” Gale said, pushing his glasses up. “You’re asking for a lot, Quarta.”

John pulled his revolver out and slammed it on the bar counter. This was something he was ready for. After all, there were very few free things in the world.

“I’ll explain how this thing works. I’ll explain it so well even Hestia will understand, and I’ll explain it in enough detail that Gale can analyze it, maybe even recreate it.”

“That’s a bold claim,” Grey snickered. “But I’m game. That sounds like an interesting offer indeed.”

“Bah, a weapon? That’s it?” Hestia scoffed. “Come on. You’re asking us for six months of work here. Weapons are for prissies. I don’t need to know how this works. I’ve got enough firepower on my own. Come one, give us something worthwhile.”

John stared at her. “Free drinks for as long as I run this bar.”

Hestia leapt forward and slammed her hands on the counter, grinning madly. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

A new type of life was about to begin for Prota.

~~~

The training regiment was hellish, designed by high level adventurers who knew what it took to be the best. Well, it would’ve been hellish for anyone but Prota. Her body was frail, but every time she fell, she would just pick herself up and continue, unfazed. John was worried. He questioned whether or not she was pushing herself past her limits, but the truth was that her pain tolerance was proving to be a blessing.

The blessing wasn’t without consequences, though. The injuries remained, even if they didn’t really hurt. This meant that she often had to stop to rest and recover, but her training quality was so high that it worked out in the end.

“Why don’t you try mana recovery?” Hestia had suggested one day.

“Mana recovery? What’s that?”

“It involves circulating the mana inside your body,” the fire mage explained. “When used, you recover stamina and injuries at an incredible rate, but it exhausts you of all your mana at once. It’s a pretty standard mana technique. Think she could do it?”

“...Hestia, she’s, like, six.”

Despite this, John kept that in mind for later. It wasn’t as if he planned on having Prota become a martial master or something crazy like that. He just needed her body to be strong enough that she would be able to survive in battle.

Soon, a pattern emerged. Prota would train for a day with all four party members, pushing herself so hard that she would injure herself to the point where she could no longer continue. After that, she would rest for three days, and with the help of Gorm, her body recovered and came back even stronger. During the three days of rest, John would have her train her mana-absorbing abilities while he tended to the now-open bar.

Initially clumsy and weak, Prota slowly but surely strengthened her body. Her greatest strength was her agility, which Grey often praised. Hestia wasn’t very good with children, so she’d often make strange requirements of Prota, but her strength training was coming along fine. Gale was in charge of Prota’s speed and footwork, and while he’d initially had his doubts, Prota proved to be fine as her body continued to grow. She also had a great affinity for meditation, considering all the days she’d spent doing nothing but waiting for the next day to arrive. In fact, her concentration levels were so excellent that Gorm had told John that there really wasn’t anything for him to do. Her mental strength was incredible.

Just like that, another 6 months flew by.

~~~

“Hm…” John sighed as he looked out the window. It was a lazy day, and there was nothing interesting going on. Prota was washing dishes in the sink since, for whatever reason, she found the task entertaining. She said she liked the feeling of the liquid soap and bubbles, and since John was too lazy to do the dishes until they piled up, it was an arrangement that worked out.

“Is there anything interesting you want to do, Prota?” John said suddenly.

“...?”

“I mean, in the capital. We’ll be leaving to become adventurers soon, right? So, we’ll be leaving here soon. Is there anything you want to try before that?”

“Nn…” Prota watched some bubbles float through the air. “No.”

“Sure,” John shrugged and returned to the window. “Life sure is boring, though… I thought it would become more interesting after meeting the [Protagonist], but nothing’s happened.”

“You’re making assumptions, John,” Zero warned inside his mind.

“So she’s not the [Protagonist]?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re a piece of shit.”

Prota ignored John’s ramblings. She’d initially been confused but soon learned that John only ever talked to himself if he was talking to Zero. She had once found it strange, but after a while, it had become a source of comfort. Only the John she knew would do such a thing.

“Hey. Are you gonna do anything?” Zero continued, still speaking directly to John’s mind.

“...like what? There’s nothing to do here. Should I go rob a bank or something?”

“Why is that the first thing you think of? How did you even- What’s wrong with you?” Zero sighed. “John. Prota’s birthday is soon, remember?”

John’s eyes widened in surprise. “I- huh? Really?”

“It’s been a year, John. Do you not remember? Prota met you one year after her birthday. The day of your meeting was her birthday. I told you this in her story. Were you not paying attention?”

John frowned. “What?

“Oh my god, you’re so stupid. Better get going.”

John just held his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

~~~

“No new bounties?”

Grey was scanning the boards of the Mercenary Guild, looking for another job to take. It wasn’t that he needed the money, but he wanted to stay occupied. He grimaced as he looked at the jobs. Someday, he’d stop coming here and work honestly as an adventurer.

Just then, the door slammed open, and everyone froze. A fat noble stormed in, somewhat drunk, chased by half a dozen retainers. Was someone getting arrested? Clients almost never showed themselves, especially not in the guild building itself. This was a rare event.

“No more. No more! I’ve ignored him for a year, and it still bothered me,” the noble seethed, his hands trembling. “That bartender! That stupid demon! They dared to touch me… me! One thousand gold. Whoever brings me the head of that bartender and his little demon girl. Those idiots messed with the wrong person this time!” he cackled.

He slapped a piece of paper on the job board, and there was a stampede as all the mercenaries rushed over to look at it. Nobody watched as the noble fell unconscious and was dragged out by worried retainers.

“He… he wasn’t lying. One thousand gold coins.”

“I could quit my job. I’d bet set for the rest of my life.”

“You? You think you can do what Aiden couldn’t? Isn’t this that guy that killed him a year ago? Besides, there’s no way this is real. It’s probably an asshole pulling some kinda prank.”

“That guy’s an asshole… but he’s a rich asshole. That’s an official bounty. All we have to do is claim it. How hard can it be?”

“Rich enough to put a thousand gold bounty on a bartender? Who the hell is this bartender? Some kinda royal?”

Grey had moved to the back, lurking in the shadows, avoiding attention, but his keen eyes also saw the price and the name associated with the bounty.

He shook his head. It didn’t really matter. Whatever the reason…

“Quarta… what did you get yourself into now?” he muttered, disappearing without a trace. “I warned you. Something was going to happen.”

~~~

“Hey, Prota?”

The moon was high in the sky, the stars shining overhead like a blanket of light, not a single cloud in the sky to obscure their beauty. A warm spring breeze blew through the open windows, bringing in the smell of new grass and trees. It was the day before Prota’s birthday.

“Thanks.”

“...?” Prota didn’t understand. What was John thanking her for?

“I just… you wouldn’t get it, but… it was kind of boring, living alone for so long. So thanks, I guess. For sticking with me. The past year… it’s been really nice. So… thank you.”

Over the past year, his time with Prota had let his feelings grow more and more. He wasn’t exactly normal, but it was comparable to the feelings someone got while reading a book. They were real, but they would go away quickly, as if the brain was telling him that the emotions they were feeling weren’t supposed to be there.

But they were emotions nonetheless. It was infinitely more than what he’d felt before.

“Anyways, go to sleep. Tomorrow… well, you’ll see,” John said, collapsing onto the couch.

“Mm… ok,” Prota said. She was too tired to think about it. “Nn… thank you. Thank you. Thank you…” she muttered as she, too, fell onto the bed, going from the world of the living to a world of dreams.