Regressor, Possessor, Reincarnator

At the southern tip of the continent—

Unlike in the east and west, where the various countries and races lived in harmony, and in the north, where the demi-humans’ queen resided, there were few traces of tolerance in the south.

Then there was the Plains of Nastrond, blocking the path toward the north.

There lay a dense jungle full of monsters, a place where superstitions of all sorts and paganism ruled. The only ones living there were rarer races such as the lizardmen, siren, harpies, and a few humans. 

A group of people traipsed through the bushes into that place where so few cities existed.

"Is this the right way? If it’s wrong again, I might start getting mad."

"Y-yes, I believe so, Master Skyna."

The sorcerer, claiming to be a guide, trembled under the pressure accompanying the threat of her displeasure.

"I should have just researched in peace, but I applied for this for no reason. Ah, if it weren’t for his sweet-talking… Sigh.”

She had been told that there was an opportunity to directly observe a demon transformation.

‘We haven’t even gotten a whiff of them.’

It had been months since they followed it, the first sign of a trail of demons to be seen on the continent. People made a fuss, speculating on the return of the Demon King.

"There’s a lingering scent of demons here."

But as the head of the Emergency Task Force assembled for this incident, she could not rid herself of the feeling of having been deceived by Barden.

"If you get it wrong again, I know you'll break that damn magic thingie."

"…I’ll make sure to guide you to my utmost ability," Beritte answered resolutely, gripping onto the ancient relic in his hand.

No one sympathized with him.

Most of the party was already nervous about the months-long commitment, not to mention his personality—as condescending as the typical Tower of Light student.

‘I wonder when we can go back?’

Francisca rubbed her tired eyes.

She hadn’t been acting on impulse. She wanted to return to the Reinhart manor, and was waiting for the prophecy to be fulfilled. Then suddenly, her face contorted with disgust as she remembered the person who made her go there in the first place.

Whisse Arona, the grandson of Grandel, Master of the Tower of Wind.

‘If only that hadn't come up then.’

He’d done the same thing as he had in childhood, shamelessly approaching her again as if nothing had happened. 

She felt like she was bound to do something reckless while in his presence, so she applied to join the emergency task force to investigate and escape him.

As a result, she suffered all sorts of hardships for months, with her hatred for him growing in kind.

'But still…’

Slip.

When she put her hand in her pocket, feeling the unmistakable texture of the wrinkled paper that she’d read over and over again.

'Knowing he’s the subject of the prophecy gave me some confidence.’

As a result of studying chimera, she rose to become a Rank 5 sorcerer, and was taught by Skyna, the head of the mutation school.

As she tried to carry on with her thoughts, the man leading the group shouted, "I found something! Over here! There's a lot of demons here… Who…?”

When she snapped out of her meanderings and looked ahead, she saw a woman lying on the blackened, devastated terrain.

"Miss, are you all right?"

"There are civilians here…?”

"Wait a minute!"

The sorcerers began to approach her as if possessed. Skyna’s cries were of no use. Only Skyna and Francisca maintained their positions.

"What's the matter, Master Skyna?"

"There's no way there's a civilian here…!”

"Hmm… Hmm?"

The woman opened her eyes as soon as they approached, as if she had been waiting for them. Skyna was immediately wary of the sudden change in her consciousness.

The woman looked around with a sad face, appearing afraid.

"Where am I…?"

"How are you feeling? Are you hurt?”

Her pitiful demeanor and innocent face along with the rugged hem of her clothes—torn as if she had been attacked by something—merged with the blindly compassionate atmosphere to stimulate the sorcerers’ protective instincts.

"We've been sent from the magic towers to investigate…”

"Beritte! You little shit!" His shoulder hunched as Skyna approached him, visibly angered by his hasty action. "We don't even know who she is, yet you revealed our identities? Have you gone insane?"

"B-but I'm really a civilian…”

"Shut up and step back. We need to do a thorough interrogation from hereon.”

"Yes, o-okay."

Though he’d just recently been trying to protect her, Beritte quickly came to his senses, looking at her sunken eyes. He was only a disciple of the Tower of Light, and his opponent was the head of the entire mutation school. They were by no means a fair match.

"So… what's your name? Where are you from? Do you have any memories at all?"

"I…" Seemingly frightened by their small quarrel, the woman only just parted her lips to answer Skyna's question. "My name is Lillith, well… My name was Lillith.”

“It was Lillith?”

The woman who’d introduced herself as Lillith lowered her eyes hastily, feeling the weight of their gazes gather upon her.

‘……?’

Francisca felt strange looking at her.

"Yes… Other than that, I don't remember anything, I don’t think."

The feeling was just slightly off. 

"…I'm sorry, I don't know anything."

Francisca looked at her eyes. They were crinkled in a clear smile.

* * *

Yaaahhh!

Amidst the loud cheers, he saw two figures swinging their swords, generating wailing clangs of steel hitting steel on either side of the drill field.

More precisely, they were pushing each other back to either side of the field.

"Is that the best you can do, Benjamin?"

"You're pretty good at pretending to be a commoner, aren't you?"

"I trusted the Vice President and came out here… but it's over."

Rumors had circulated around the Academy and three days later, the battle broke out as predicted.

Their venue was the drill field of the official training center located in the main building.

This future coincided with what was written in the black book.

No restrictions. No interventions. A setting fostering a fierce battle that could truly result in life for the victor and death for the defeated.

…Thus, most people thought a decently fierce battle was about to take place.

Benjamin clenched his teeth and blocked the attack.

"Senior, why did you pick a fight, huh?

"Haha…"

The opposite result came about.

Someone’s sword struck quickly in a blitz of light.

The sword swung from top to bottom in a diagonal arc, and again from the bottom to his top left side. He didn't know that the movement of a sword—which he’d been practicing his whole life—could feel so unfamiliar.

"He’s doing great going against an upperclassman.”

"Did he come out swinging too hard in the beginning?"

"But didn't someone say he was in the supplementary class? Just by looking at him… shouldn’t he be at the top of the class?”

He hadn’t meant for this to happen. As an upperclassman, Benjamin was trying to show off his skills and warn the freshmen who hadn’t yet lost their undue pride from life outside.

"Senior, why did you come to the supplementary class with such an air of condescension when this was the best you could do?"

He was just trying to let other commoner students at the Academy know that they could succeed.

"Did you think you could just take on anyone in a supplementary class? Or did you see this as an opportunity to symbolically defeat the aristocracy? Huh?"

“No, it’s nothing like that, not at all.”

"Tell me the truth. Then I’ll let you go."

"No, I really—”

The crowd roared.

He shut his mouth, right before saying it.

It had been some scathing rebuke or another. Countless anonymous accusations from behind the opaque curtain covering the gymnasium filled his eardrums.

"Even despite all this? You're famous, sir. They wouldn’t be here for no reason.”

“……”

Benjamin wore a disheartened smile.

To those who didn’t know his true intentions, Benjamin's actions were no less than some run-of-the-mill, arrogant commoner who thought rankings were everything.

"…Then hurry up, you fucking punk."

"So now you show your true colors. I guess that means that I'll go all out…”

Smiling at Benjamin's confession, Julius unleashed a blitz attack.

"Let’s go."

Boom!

With a blue flash of lightning, blood-red mana burst up before him.

* * *

* * *

The battle was over. The victor was Julius, who had cleanly dominated the match.

As soon as the sparring match had concluded, Benjamin was moved to the medical office.

‘After this big of an event, he'll really be in the dog house with the student council.’

It was clear just by looking at the results that Allen’s wishes had come true.

No, it was meant to be this way, even if it wasn’t what he’d been hoping for.

Hadn't the same thing happened in the past?

But…

"…Not like this, it shouldn't have turned out like this."

Stare.

Turning his head toward the soft clamor, he saw the second heir, Elijah, wearing a contorted expression.

"H-how could you do this?!"

"Vice President, I mean, Your Highness…”

Benjamin smiled bitterly.

"Didn't you know this would happen one day? I didn't want it to, but…”

"It was all for the Academy."

"I mixed my own personal interest into it."

Allen stared as Benjamin struggled to breathe.

"Even so, isn't this too much?"

He didn’t look good. He was covered in wounds, his complexion pale, and in critical condition. 

"Even if he can be saved, he may never recover even half the strength he once possessed…”

The medic who was examining him blurted out the prognosis.

Permanent damage.

Benjamin didn't say anything in response, but knew that his life as a warrior was now almost over.

He may never be able to even wield a sword again.

"He didn't mean for this to end so seriously, haha…”

Benjamin hid his trembling hands deep in the blanket covering his shivering frame.

A dark, dull atmosphere hung above the infirmary.

Allen saw all this from a step away.

‘…Could I have prevented this battle?’

Or maybe he could've at least prevented his injury.

Then again, he and Benjamin weren’t well acquainted. And they’d only spoken for the first and last time three days ago. Thinking logically, the same result would’ve come about, regardless if Allen had warned him of his future.

And if it weren’t him, someone else would have had to go through the same experience.

‘Is that really true?’

Hadn’t he left Benjamin unattended just because these people becoming Julius's enemies was a more favorable situation for him?

Would it really have been so much harder to produce another outcome?

His mind raced.

Though it was just Benjamin—someone with whom he had no real acquaintance—he shouldn’t  have waited and ruined his life.

However, Benjamin’s sacrifice was indispensable in the mission to confront Julius.

Wasn't it arrogant to think that he could deal with everything on his own, without any sacrifice at all?

They needed allies. They needed shared causes.

Guilt, avoidance, pity, and hypocrisy—the wave of emotion flowing over him wasn’t any of those.

‘This is something I prepared myself for.’

The important thing was how to deal with it in the aftermath.

Before his return, Allen had experienced the limitations and consequences of fighting alone in the truest sense. He was just worried because he wasn't sure how to act now that things were different.

That was how it happened…

‘The time is now.'

An opportunity in the making for a long time.

Allen left the infirmary with a sense of resolution.

The light poured into the passage at a sharp angle.

Woo! Whoa!

Cheers surged from the other side of the dark passage.

"Are you all right, Julius? If you’re hurt…”

"Great job! I was worried since you were going up against an upperclassman, but Julius…”

"I really didn't expect him to win. You truly are a scoundrel…”

「Unlike the main character in the , Julius felt comfortable, having created an exciting and exhilarating spectacle.」

Step, step.

「“—have some cider. You had a pretty good beatdown, so I won’t try to attack you any further. But I'm not going to treat you like a pushover either.”」

Julius was surrounded by several women who rushed to him shortly after he’d made his way outside the training grounds.

"Oh, Brother! There you are! Where have you been?"

"I was watching from afar. You fought well."

Allen has just watched a man's life crumble before his eyes, yet he laughed and joked with the one who did it.

"Haha, you were watching?"

It was repulsive.

"Yes, congratulations on your victory."

"If I knew you were there, I would have fought harder. Hahaha."

Almost overwhelmingly so.

* * *

Allen walked aimlessly.

He didn't mind going back to the dorm, but… he wanted to organize his thoughts by going for a little walk today.

Allen suddenly spoke while walking through a deserted alley. "Do you think I’m going about things wrong?"

⟬There’s no way to know, right? It's all in the past now.⟭

"…It's already happened.”

⟬You can’t predict the future. There's really nothing you can do now in the present. Don't look so sad, and think about what to do in the future. If you regret the past, then you can choose to act differently in the future.⟭

For some reason, Vestla was talkative.

⟬That's right. And ah, that sword! Now that your life at the Academy is stable, why don't you fix my sword? When you give a gift, both the person giving it and receiving it feel good! Didn’t you see the Sindri siblings earlier? They looked pretty talented, so how about you find me a sword that suits me, please. You’d enjoy that, too, right? Right?⟭

"Thank you for your consolation.”

⟬What? I didn't mean to do that.⟭

A small smile crept up Allen's stiff face.

"Then let's do that."

⟬… Look, I didn't really mean it. I was really just doing all that for myself. Really.⟭

His heavy footsteps felt a little lighter.

‘Yeah, not everything can be in my hands.’

He’d already decided how to act.

"Then shall we go back? I'll wipe you down with the best fish oil you’ve had in a long time. As a treat.”

⟬…This is a treat to you?⟭

Vestla grumbled about nothing.

Just as he was about to turn around, a ball of brown fur popped out of the next alley.

Meow.

"There are street cats living in places like this…?”

Had one of the students cast it aside while raising it?

Just as he resumed his steps, he stalled again, looking at the cat for a while longer.

“……?”

"…I didn't expect to meet you here."

With white eyes, white hair, and a blankly expressionless sort of beauty—one where the observer could never tell what she was thinking—there was a woman who claimed to be the descendant of one of the great warriors.

"…Good morning."

Maria Caritas.

She walked slowly out of the alley.

"Hello.”