Arc 9, Part 52: "Aldebaran I"

"—No one can beat you, for you are my creation."

Aldebaran could remember those words from the "Witch" as if they were spoken yesterday.

In real-time, it was nearly twenty years ago; in terms of subjective time, it wasn't even a contest. He remembered the number of times he had retried a single situation, but he couldn't remember the total sum of all his attempts, let alone the staggering, unthinkable amount of time he had spent. One thing was certain: he had spent far longer than a single lifetime of simply living and dying.

That said, if one were to ask if Aldebaran’s spirit, having spent all that time, had reached the same heights as an elf who had lived for hundreds of years in agelessness, the answer was no. If a human spirit matures from immaturity to ripeness and eventually reaches a state of enlightened detachment, it is because they have experienced the bitter and the sweet over time, and their spirit was given room to grow.

However, the time Aldebaran spent outside of real-time was a series of stagnant moments—so to speak—spent trying to break through the obstacles lying before him. In reality, those moments lasted from a few seconds to a few minutes at most. No matter how many countless times one repeats such a brief span of time, human growth cannot be expected.

Therefore, Aldebaran considered the accumulation of time repeated through his Authority to be a hollow waste—time that did nothing but wear down his heart without allowing it to grow.

Even in such hollow time, if one repeats it hundreds, thousands, millions, or billions of times, the brain naturally begins to organize memories, attempting to strip Aldebaran of his genuine recollections. Yet, there were memories that refused to fade—memories carved into the soul rather than the brain—and the words at the beginning were exactly that.

Of course, if Aldebaran were to say he didn't remember all that time and didn't want to, he could easily picture that incarnation of curiosity who wanted to know everything, the "Witch," muttering a lonely, "I see, that’s a shame."

Despite feigning an inability to understand emotions, the "Witch" was skilled at acting to bend others to her will. Even knowing this, Aldebaran could not go against her words or attitude. He had been disciplined and remade that way—to put it in a way that might rival the inhumanity of the Shinobi Village he had heard a bit about from Yae. In this case, it was a toss-up whether the Shinobi Village was crazy for being on par with the "Witch," or if the "Witch," who contended with the history of the Shinobi Village all by herself, was simply too dangerous.

—Regardless, the current Aldebaran was a thing created by the "Witch."

"Even so, you have the right to live your own life. That is a domain that even a creator must not unilaterally violate. So, if you truly feel you cannot follow me from the bottom of your heart, you may leave the plan at any time. That is your freedom."

From time to time, the "Witch" would say such things, as if testing Aldebaran’s resolve. It was a rare display of consideration for her. Generally, her standard tactic was to secure a person's consent once and then maneuver so they could never take back their word. In fact, among the lessons and tasks the "Witch" imposed on Aldebaran, there were many nightmarish things that would have made him recoil if he hadn't been made to agree beforehand not to give up. When she made him do those things, she never asked if he wanted to stop after he had nodded once.

And yet, she frequently questioned his fundamental, original, initial resolve.

Aldebaran interpreted this as the "Witch’s" own form of guilt or conflict, though he wondered if that was truly the case. The "Witch," who claimed not to understand emotions, surely wasn't ignorant of anger, sadness, or joy. If she could manifest those feelings, couldn't she also harbor guilt or fear for the future? At the very least, in the time he spent with her, Aldebaran might have thought she was a Witch who didn't understand the human heart, but he never thought she was a Witch who didn't have one.

Between "not having" and "not understanding," entirely different landscapes unfold. Perhaps that was what manifested in the form of her questions. If so, had she hesitated as many times as she had asked? Had there been a conflict within her, grieving the harsh path she was making Aldebaran walk, respecting his will, and trying to let him choose his own life?

If, if, by some one-in-a-billion chance, the "Witch" had felt that way—ironically, that would be the very reason Aldebaran would never turn back on his resolve. Therefore—

"—I see."

To Aldebaran’s always-identical reply, the "Witch’s" reaction was always the same.

Perhaps he was being deceived. Perhaps from the moment of his birth until that day, the "Witch" had spent ample time brainwashing him. Perhaps she didn't possess a shred of the guilt or hesitation he hoped for.

She might be that kind of wicked "Witch." But even if he asked her point-blank, she would only flash that beautiful black-and-white smile and say:

"Naturally. —After all, I’m a wicked wizard."

And so, with an answer that could be truth or lie, she would toy with him.

Amidst the roaring wind, Aldebaran was in the middle of a high-speed glide. With wings made of stone spread across his back, catching the wind as he flew, he thought he must look terribly ridiculous, but he couldn't afford to care about appearances. While Yae was holding them back, he had to gain as much distance as possible and erase the height difference.

"I don't think they were specifically aiming for my 'Domain,' but..."

Aldebaran muttered, though most of his consciousness was consumed by the concentration required to form and operate the stone wings. Forming them required a delicate balance; their size and hardness needed precise adjustment. If they were too large, the wind would buffet them too much; if too small, they wouldn't serve their purpose. The strength of their hardness and density also related to their weight—shaving off too much or too little would lead to an inevitable crash.

"I respect Icarus for succeeding on his first try...!"

Speaking of flying with artificial wings, the great predecessor Icarus, who made wings of wax, came to mind. Setting aside his end, the fact that he not only glided but flapped his wings and flew close to the sun was genuinely admirable. As for Aldebaran, he had crashed countless times due to poorly made wings. —Realizing that crashing was exactly what the enemy wanted, he had finally managed to create these stone wings after numerous retries. Even so, it was a feat that could only be maintained with extreme focus and meticulous care—

"I couldn't just keep falling like that."

That fact and the sense of urgency were the main reasons Aldebaran had frantically leveled up from "Stone Wings Level 1" to a level where he could at least fly. Though he prided himself on having an invincible Authority, his "Domain" was not without weaknesses. This enemy ambush had, unintentionally, struck two of those weaknesses simultaneously. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say they attacked the same weakness from two different angles.

Aldebaran’s Authority, the "Domain," has an effective range. The teleportation brought about by the ambush forced Aldebaran out of the area he had set as his "Domain." On top of that, the destination involved a fall from an ultra-high altitude, which served as the second "Domain-killer" to strike him.

As a result, while falling at high speeds, Aldebaran repeatedly committed suicide before he could fly out of the "Domain," restarting from the middle of the fall over and over again. Through those repetitions, he judged it impossible to resolve the situation while falling from such a height where he had no freedom of movement. After trying various other methods, he eventually arrived at the attempt to escape using stone wings.

At least with this, the change in altitude became gradual, making it relatively easier to maintain the "Domain." Just as Aldebaran managed to untie one of the tangled knots—

"—Al!!"

A sharp, bell-like voice called out to him as he struggled to stabilize himself. Glancing back, he saw an angel—no, Emilia—flying through the air toward him from a much lower altitude but in the same direction. She bore wings made of ice on her slender back. Using the same method as Aldebaran, she was rapidly closing the gap, though the aesthetic quality of her wings put his to shame.

"I can't believe it."

It was only natural that a stunned, almost impressed groan escaped him. As mentioned, Aldebaran had struggled immensely to complete these unsightly stone wings. It was because of that hardship that he respected Icarus and his wax wings. Yet, seeing Emilia succeed with artificial wings on her first try, just like the mythical Icarus, and achieve the same result as Aldebaran after his countless failures, he felt a sense of defeat rather than respect—a decisive gap in talent.

"It’s no comfort that the idea of me being a failure after crashing over six hundred times is more plausible than the lady being a genius."

The strength of Aldebaran’s "Domain" lay in a war of attrition—the ability to persist through infinite trials until a single sliver of a chance for victory appeared. His greatest advantage was being able to keep flipping cards until the opponent made a mistake and a situation favorable to him arose. However, as seen in his fight with Reinhard, there are rare beings in the world who constantly pull the correct answer. That "correct answer" varies depending on individual abilities and victory goals, but what they have in common is that, unlike Aldebaran, they are loved by fate.

—Aldebaran is hated by fate.

Whether Aldebaran hated fate first or fate hated him first was no longer clear, but that was an unshakeable fact. Regardless of what else loved or hated him, fate was Aldebaran’s absolute enemy.

That was why he had to kill it. —Even if it meant turning the world against him, he would kill fate.

Because it didn't want that to happen, fate sent its favorites one after another as assassins. Here and now, those were Emilia and Rem.

"—Hmph. What a twist of karma."

Who was it that suggested choosing Rem as the initial ambusher? Whoever proposed it, she was the perfect choice in terms of creating a "blank" in Aldebaran. When she was a victim of the Authority of 'Gluttony,' Aldebaran, who was under its influence, couldn't perceive the abnormality of Rem’s existence and had unintentionally built a proper relationship with her. Therefore, at the moment of that memory flash-grenade—when he realized Priscilla was dead and Rem had been released from the shackles of 'Gluttony'—he suffered a larger "blank" than anyone else.

—Because he had encountered an existence that shouldn't be here, someone who should originally be dead.

"————"

There was no room for debate on how that result had been brought about. He had undoubtedly done it. Natsuki Subaru had defied fate and triumphed over it. Natsuki Subaru had that power. Rem’s existence was the proof.

And yet, despite that—he did not save Priscilla Barielle.

"—If that’s how you’re going to play it, then I won't show any mercy either."

The tears shed, the fists that bruised himself, the consideration that tried to draw close—none of it mattered. What he wanted wasn't tears, wounds, or comfort. It was the life of a single person.

"——!"

Inside his helmet, Aldebaran gritted his teeth until he tasted blood and looked back. Simultaneously, he altered the angle and thickness of his wings, minimizing the loss of speed and maneuverability as his gaze locked with Emilia’s in mid-air as she pursued him. Though the beautiful ice wings suited her perfectly, no matter how lovely and angelic she was, she couldn't gain speed or altitude by flapping artificial wings. Her initial speed came from the recoil of Rem striking the ice disc, but her subsequent pursuit was achieved by another method—

"Ya! Ta! Tei!"

Emilia gave the same lighthearted shouts she used when attacking, but with every shout, her speed and altitude increased by another notch. The method was simple and clear—she was using magic to create ice pillars in mid-air as footholds, kicking off them to gain momentum and speed. The created ice pillars would stall for a moment before being kicked down toward the depths by Emilia’s leg strength, only to dissipate into mana and return to the atmosphere, where they would be reborn as new footholds. By repeating this, she was chasing Aldebaran down.

"This is ridiculous...!"

It was a brute-force solution possible only because she possessed extraordinary magical talent and could exhaust vast amounts of mana. Thanks to his "path" with 'Aldebaran,' Al could borrow the power of the 'Divine Dragon' as an external mana tank, but even if told to do the same thing as Emilia, he simply couldn't. It wasn't a matter of mana capacity; the gap in talent and physical ability was too great. —Talent could be bridged through infinite trials, but the difference in physical ability could not.

The canyon stretched long and wide, and the rock walls flanking the two flyers continued just as far. As long as they headed in the same direction, Emilia’s pursuit would not cease. Seeing this, Emilia kicked another ice pillar and, while maintaining distance, matched his height. Then, balancing with her ice wings—

"—Al! Please, let’s talk! I’ll listen properly!"

"You say that, but you're trying to freeze me solid without a word or any holding back. If I’d fallen all the way to the bottom, you were planning to freeze the whole river and take me in, weren't you?"

"But! That plan already failed!"

"You're too honest for your own good, Royal Candidate!"

The route where he fell to the bottom while doing nothing was a pattern that would have completely fallen into the enemy's trap. To escape that, he chose the path of deviating from the ice disc's falling trajectory at all costs. If he could at least separate Emilia and Rem instead of facing both at once, he should count it as a win. The answer to that was—

"I’m giving it to you now. —My attitude hasn't changed since the Royal Capital!"

Holding out his hand, Aldebaran created stone blocks in the air to shake off the pursuing Emilia, forcing her to fly into a barrage of projectiles. Unexpectedly, a scene like a real-life shooting game unfolded. As Emilia was greeted by the barrage of stones, her ice wings shimmered—

"I’ll say it as many times as it takes! I don't want to cry anymore because I thought it couldn't be helped that someone was gone!!"

Emilia shouted as she dove into the barrage. The screams of shattering ice and freezing air echoed shrilly through the Agzad Valley.

—Aldebaran had never really worried much about his purpose as a "Following Star."

It seems everyone experiences something like a reasonless rebellion against their parents during puberty, wondering why they were born or where life comes from and where it goes. However, for Aldebaran, these were somewhat distant propositions.

In Aldebaran’s case, it was difficult to define who the parent was that he should rebel against. Furthermore, due to the nature of his Authority, he didn't really feel the sensation of lost lives disappearing. As for why he was born, he had been given a clear answer, and as for how he was born, he supposed he could answer "Love," in a way. Thus, Aldebaran never faced the questions one should harbor during puberty.

He didn't think of this as a failure or a missed opportunity. There’s a saying that one should seek out hardship while young, but there’s no value in experiences that only make you feel ashamed of your "cringe-worthy past" once you become an adult. Experiences you don't need to have are better left unhad. —Just as everyone only needs to die once, at the very end of their life.

"I see. So I cannot expect any adolescent emotions or impulses from you? That is a bit of a shame. I had thought of various ways to respond to your rebellious phase."

This was the lament of the "Witch"—who, while not heartless, frequently made heartless comments—toward Aldebaran, who grew up without being a handful.

For Aldebaran, the "Witch" was the person he had spent the most time with since birth. She had the bad habit of wanting to witness every human choice, emotion, and countless possibilities. Furthermore, in most cases, the "Witch’s" nature was such that she could not restrain those desires. Aldebaran had met other "Witches," and while they differed in degree, he felt it was terribly blasphemous that they couldn't resist that nature.

Therefore, the "Witch’s" attitude of waiting expectantly for Aldebaran’s puberty was also something brought about by an irresistible nature, so there was an aspect of it that couldn't be helped. That said, it made no sense to act out a rebellious phase just to please her. —In a way, perhaps that very resistance was an adolescent-like emotion.

"I suppose it is too convenient for me, who is not even a parent, to try and mimic a parental experience on the surface. ...I wonder if I could have experienced that if I had created Beatrice."

As the "Witch" questioned herself in a monologue, the sense of loneliness Aldebaran felt was something else entirely, unrelated to puberty. However, it was difficult to define what that was, and their relationship was too complex to do so. Therefore, as the "Witch" had decreed, the relationship between Aldebaran and her was—

"—Teacher."

When he called out, the "Witch," who had been enjoying her exploration in the labyrinth of thought, looked up. Her black eyes reflected Aldebaran, and every time he saw her white hair flowing over her shoulders as she tilted her head and asked, "What is it?" he thought what a cunning "Witch" she was. She was always absorbed in her own affairs, honest about her desires, and never bothered to consider the hearts of others—yet, whenever Aldebaran called her, she always met his eyes.

It was only natural that no adolescent rebellion occurred toward that "Witch." His motivation was weak to begin with, and his mind and body had long since succumbed to the futility of defying her. Under the guise of performance experiments to master his Authority, the "Witch" had granted Aldebaran over a million "deaths," and the hierarchy had already been established. Of course, no matter how much he talked about it, the "Witch" herself would simply brush it off, saying, "Since it doesn't remain in my memory even once, it’s troubling to be told to feel guilty."

Regardless, he understood why the "Witch" went that far. After all, at that time, the only "Witch" still alive besides the one before him was the one who was the direct or indirect cause of the other Witches' deaths. Aldebaran’s contact with the other Witches was not with them while they were alive. He could only meet them in the limited space prepared by the "Witch." The ones he met there were already dead, existences consisting only of collected souls. And under the "Witch’s" tutelage, Aldebaran was to—

"—Have to kill her."

That was the purpose given to Aldebaran, the "Following Star," before he even reached puberty—the life goal he had to fulfill even if he died a million times. To make Aldebaran this way, the "Witch" was condemned by the other Witches and broke ties with her companions, so her resolve was absolute.

"—No one can beat you, for you are my creation."

Being told that was Aldebaran’s pride and the basis of his existence. Honestly, he thought the "Witch’s" personality was the worst, and there were many parts of her discipline and guidance he wanted to complain about, but he never hesitated to meet her expectations.

He believed he could do it. Back then, when he still had his left arm, Aldebaran knew "death" but didn't know true defeat, so he was able to believe.

He didn't have a rebellious phase—but it was, without a doubt, an inescapably foolish, cringe-worthy past.

"Tch—!"

As Emilia dove head-on into the barrage of projectiles, Aldebaran suppressed the hesitation in his heart and unleashed his full power without holding back.

As in the clash at the Royal Capital, Aldebaran was instinctively weak against Emilia. This was a kind of fundamental weakness inherent to his very being, which was why he couldn't take the same drastic measures against her as he could against others in the capital. Back then, he had used the power of 'Aldebaran' to drop a giant rock, forcing her to stop her pursuit to protect the city, but here, there was nothing to use as collateral. In that sense, dropping him into a massive canyon showed that the previous battle had been well-studied.

"I’m not in a position to be grateful for that growth!"

Unfortunately, Aldebaran’s heart was not enriched enough to rejoice in his own or his enemy's growth. For a moment, he felt resistance to defining Emilia as an enemy, but he squeezed his eyes shut. That resolve had been made long ago, even before he met Priscilla. Strictly speaking, the target of Aldebaran’s resolve wasn't the Emilia before him, but—

"Even a recycled resolve can serve as a decent facade."

Holding up that facade of a resolve, he moved to cut off Emilia’s pursuit.

Emilia dove straight into the storm of fist-sized rock fragments, her ice wings shining grandly. It was an attack meant to force her into a defensive or evasive posture, hoping to slow her down even slightly, but as he feared, Emilia went for a direct confrontation via the shortest distance—firing ice pillars as footholds, ice spikes to counter the barrage, and even using twin ice swords in her hands to strike down the projectiles that made it through.

The "Witch" had taught him that simultaneous activation of magic was difficult even for skilled wizards. Even with magic of the same attribute, it required the strength to perform impossible tasks, like holding a pen in each hand and writing a sentence with the right while drawing an illustration with the left. If the attributes were different, it was a feat that supposedly required adding more brains, and Aldebaran had once seen the "Witch" handle five attributes simultaneously. Honestly, he had seriously wondered if the "Witch," whose head was smaller than average, had five small brains inside.

Even setting aside such outlier cases, simultaneously activating four types of magic—wings, pillars, spikes, and twin swords—even if they were all of the fire attribute (ice), was quite a feat. On top of that, she was displaying athletic performance beyond that of an Olympic athlete to utilize her unconventional pursuit techniques. He felt like he had used up all his "surprise points" for the day.

"So, I’ll welcome you with a low dose of agitation!"

Against the storm of projectiles, Emilia chose to break through with courage and physical strength. But what if she were faced with a threat that couldn't be broken by strength alone?

"————"

As the next move was prepared, Emilia’s cheeks stiffened as she tried to close the distance. Before her eyes, a net of sand and gravel—even smaller than the projectiles and easy to overlook—spread out, leaving no room for escape. It was like diving into a torrential downpour; unless one had the absurdity to dodge rain in mid-air, taking zero hits was impossible. Of course, scattering sand wasn't just to block her vision—

"—It’s... heavy!?"

Emilia cried out in surprise as she swung her arms to brush off the clinging sand. The sand grains that touched her limbs or white clothes clumped together with surrounding grains, hindering her movement with weight and hardness. It was the same debuff attack he had used against Reinhard in the Sea of Sand—Reinhard, who exceeded the speed of sound, had torn it off with sheer momentum, but that method was impossible for Emilia. Furthermore—

"The wings—"

The primary goal of the sand was to interfere with the ice wings supporting Emilia’s flight. The ice wings that dove into the sandstorm were eroded by the sand and could no longer perform their function of catching the wind. Emilia lost her balance and plummeted toward the ground—to prevent that, she immediately discarded her hindered wings, reverting from an angel back to an angelic girl to escape the danger.

"—You purged them!"

But making her do that was Aldebaran’s true aim. Even if she discarded her ice wings, Emilia could immediately redeploy the same ones and restart without losing her upward and forward momentum. However, no matter how extraordinary her physical abilities, she couldn't catch up to an improvised hang glider exceeding a hundred kilometers per hour. Therefore, Aldebaran pressed his advantage to prevent her from redeploying her wings.

With a roar, giant stone arms jutted out from the rock walls, attempting to catch Emilia as she flew through the canyon. If they could kill her momentum, even if she gained a second pair of wings, she wouldn't be able to chase Aldebaran, whose speed remained intact. Moreover, the giant arms standing in Emilia’s way were not just one or two. —The stone arms protruding from the rock walls numbered nearly a hundred.

"It’s less like a 'Thousand-Armed Kannon' and more like the backside of a haunted house."

The visual was close to the haunted house staple where hands suddenly burst out from sliding doors all at once. However, unlike those meant for a cheap scare, these giant arms were seriously trying to catch Emilia. If even one leg was grabbed, the pursuit would end completely, and Aldebaran’s escape would be a success—

"Can you—" "—I’ll do my best!!"

The words he was about to say were drowned out by her sheer spirit. He didn't think "doing her best" would be enough, but the terrifying thing about Emilia was that she was the type of person who could make things work just by doing her best.

Emilia, having lost her wings, displayed that terror to its fullest—spinning her ice swords, she sliced off the fingers of the first giant arm and used the neutralized limb as a foothold to jump high. Her momentum hadn't died. She was regaining significant height. However, even if the giant arms didn't reach a thousand, there were still over a hundred waiting—

"—Soldiers, lend me your strength!"

In response to Emilia’s call, the ice soldiers with that abominable appearance appeared once more. The ice soldiers, who should have been helplessly shattered during the fall of the ice disc, stood bravely upon the giant stone arms trying to swarm Emilia. They showed a variety of actions: some stopped the arms with their bodies, some punched them to deflect their trajectory, and some were destroyed while striking a pose as they were overwhelmed. In particular, what irritated Aldebaran were the individuals who took Emilia’s hand and helped her advance by throwing her, all while helping her escape the clutches of the giant arms.

Seven ice Natsuki Subarus repeatedly shattered after fulfilling their roles, only to be reborn to support Emilia, being crushed and then resurrected again. Without breaking the rule of a maximum of seven, they continued to protect and assist Emilia from the hundreds of encroaching stone hands.

—The "Witch" had said that magic is something that gives shape to thoughts and wishes.

He had thought it was a rather romantic thing for that "Witch" to say, but considering that turning wind into blades to slice an opponent or creating crimson flames to burn them in anger could be argued as the manifestation of thoughts and wishes, perhaps she wasn't wrong.

If so, what kind of wish was manifested in the sight Aldebaran was currently witnessing—the ice soldiers in the form of Natsuki Subaru helping Emilia? His stomach churned. Not in a metaphorical sense, but truly, literally.

Aldebaran channeled that surging negative emotion into his next attack. That was—

"—Sorry for the repetition, but here’s the trump card again."

Above the heads of Aldebaran and Emilia—a massive, powerful block of rock, the full width of the Agzad Valley, came crashing down. An inescapable crushing death by mass—it was a recurrence of the trap he had set in the Royal Capital.

What he wanted—no, what he needed—was a single victory in his entire life.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that Aldebaran’s life existed solely for that victory. Since his birth, everything given to him, poured into him, and blessed upon him were signposts prepared to obtain, grasp, and win that victory. He understood the meaning and heavy responsibility of it well—or so he thought.

However, when the opportunity to test that meaning finally arrived, the resolve he should have possessed, the plan that should have been prepared, and the soul he should have polished—all of it came to nothing.

"—No one can beat you, for you are my creation."

Those words given by the "Witch" were the signpost of Aldebaran’s life. As long as he believed them, no matter what obstacle stood in his way, he could not be stopped. And the idea of him ever being unable to believe in the "Witch"—though he would never say it to her or let her hear it—was something he thought impossible. Therefore, just as the "Witch" said, he believed he would never lose to anyone.

—When that faith was shattered, Aldebaran surely died once.

He had experienced "death" so many times it was foolish to count. He thought it was foolish to count, but since he was told to count, he did. Yet, he had tasted it so much that even recording the actual number didn't diminish the foolishness one bit. But he believed he tasted true "death" on that day, at that time.

It was the "Witch’s" long-cherished wish, and for that purpose, she had gone so far as to create Aldebaran and prepare a battle that could happen only once in a lifetime—a battle that absolutely must not be lost. And yet—

"—In the place where you must not lose, you lost."

In the familiar meadow, seeing the "Witch" savoring the scent of tea at the white table of the tea party, Aldebaran was struck with despair at how sinful a thing he had done. The "Witch," who could be described as the pinnacle of beauty expressed in just two colors, black and white—the fact that her hateful, beautiful form was without a single scratch was proof that this was a dream world.

Because the "Witch" had shielded Aldebaran, who couldn't win the battle he had to win, and had been reduced to a wretched state, having lost all her limbs and merely waiting for death. Staring blankly at her, Aldebaran had vaguely thought of the terribly obvious fact that red blood flowed through this "Witch" as well.

The heat, the smell, and the sensation of that blood couldn't have been a lie. If so, then this world, where all of that was lost and reality was painted over with fiction, was clearly a mass of lies.

"I don't much like the expression 'fiction.' Even knowing it’s strictly a different word, it reminds me of someone I dislike."

Whether that was the "Witch’s" own joke or if she truly just wanted to say something out of place, Aldebaran never understood her true intentions to the end. He simply thought he was hated. Or perhaps she was disappointed and had completely given up on him. However—

"It seems your arm cannot be recovered."

The "Witch’s" gaze turned to Aldebaran’s left arm, which had been taken by the shadows from the shoulder. There was no pain. That, too, was proof that this was the "Witch’s" dream castle—if he returned to reality, unimaginable pain would surely sear his brain. A true pain that could never be erased, even by "death."

"You lost an arm and lost a battle you couldn't afford to lose. It seems my plan will end in failure. I can already see my friends saying all sorts of things. —In the end, I’ll have to leave it to those who try to inherit Flugel’s will. How frustrating."

It was too sad that his defeat had stripped everything away from the "Witch." Seeking understanding from no one, separating herself from her fellow Witches and the companions she had traveled with—Aldebaran had ruined the wish she had gone so far to fulfill. And what was most pathetic was that, even knowing this, the resolve and heat he had before his defeat would not return to his hollow soul.

Having lost the battle he must not lose, Aldebaran’s heart had broken. His first battle, the only one where defeat was not permitted, had shattered his heart into pieces. By witnessing the unavoidable death of the "Witch," the person closest to him, he would surely suffer a wound that would make him truly beyond recovery.

"—No one can beat you, for you are my creation."

That was why Aldebaran didn't understand the meaning of those words when they were said once more.

"Now that it’s come to this, I can't afford to care about appearances. Let’s change the victory conditions. We’ll leave her to the others... and we will prevent the secondary damage."

The "Witch" was clever and selfish. Leaving aside Aldebaran, whose mind wasn't working properly due to the guilt of blaming himself, she reached a conclusion on her own and tried to move the conversation forward without letting him object. The changed victory conditions, the newly presented goal of preventing secondary damage—but he didn't think even that could be achieved. After all, he had already failed. And yet—

"—No one can beat you, for you are my creation."

Aldebaran didn't know what made the "Witch" say that. Without saying much to the dazed Aldebaran, the "Witch" stood up, walked over slowly, and faced him head-on. The face of the "Witch" he had seen most often and for the longest time in his life—there was an expression there he was seeing for the first time.

"—The stars were just bad."

He understood that meant it wasn't his fault.

Without being able to reach a conclusion about the emotions welling up within him, the dream castle abruptly came to an end. A violent ending, like tearing the stage of a picture play itself, and what appeared beyond it was a wretched reality. Instantly, pain and a sense of loss dominated his brain, and noise and fresh blood eroded his understanding. Heaven and earth were dyed black to the point where even the sense of time was lost, and Aldebaran’s wailing was drowned out by the screams of the breaking world, failing to reach even himself.

However, in that world where everything had gone mad, amidst noise so loud he couldn't even hear his own voice, he clearly heard that hoarse, weak, dying sound. The final incantation of the "Witch" that he didn't want to miss—

"—Al Shamak."

The next time Aldebaran regained consciousness was after everything had ended—or rather, after it had ended and begun again, begun and ended, and begun and ended once more. It was a world where no trace of the "Witch" remained, seemingly after repeating such things many, many times.

Whether it was due to a difference in preconditions or because it was a spell cast by a "Witch" with immense power, his daze at the effect of the magic, which was different from when he used it, lasted only a moment—

"—You, where did you come from? Who are you?"

The question came from the voice of someone he didn't know at all. The man, whose appearance was no less shabby and wretched than the tattered Aldebaran, looked at him with a mix of fear and caution.

He understood the words. His experience with people was meager, but in a sense, that wasn't a problem. What mattered was where this was and when it was.

"Ginunhive... Gladiator Island. 'The Witch'? That’s a story from hundreds of years ago, isn't it?"

At the words of the man who looked at him suspiciously as if he’d been asked something strange, Aldebaran exhaled. Seeing that, the man’s expression changed from suspicion to shock. Because the breath he exhaled became a sob, and Aldebaran, collapsing, began to shed a torrent of tears.

'—No one can beat you, for you are my creation.'

The words of the "Witch" he had left behind hundreds of years ago clung to his soul and wouldn't let go. For the sin of making that person a liar, Aldebaran wanted to die.

He could not die.