Episode 39

A deep forest—so thick with trees that even in daytime the sunlight was blocked—had become the field where two forces clashed.

“Do you understand what you’re doing!? Our nations signed a non-aggression pact!”

“We know… which is why we’ll return things to how they were!”

Steel met steel and spells traded fire. A small spark was swelling into a broadening war.

“Don’t use fire magic! If this turns into a forest fire, it will be disastrous!”

“But they’re using it without hesitation!”

Their side kept weapons to defense and used magic only as warning shots. Perhaps impatient with that restrained method, the enemy broke taboo and hurled fire-attribute spells.

“Douse it with water magic! …Are they sane!? If a wildfire starts, they won’t get off lightly either!”

Amid the ongoing battle, a lone figure appeared behind them.

“…I’m late. …Are those the enemies?”

The muffled voice cut into the soldiers’ exchange. It belonged to someone encased head-to-toe in armor.

“You’re here… Yasha-dono. Don’t kill them. We need them taken alive.”

The face could not be seen, the voice was indistinct, and the personage was hard to place—yet most striking was the armor that covered the entire body. It was stained a uniform red, as though drenched in a flood of blood.

“I’ll do what I can. …I bear you no grudge, but I will restrain you. Deeds that willingly invite conflict cannot be overlooked.”

From nowhere, the armored figure produced a spear. Its hue was as ominous as the armor itself.

“How shameful to lean on an outsider… Keep that spearman away! Loose all spells! No matter if that one dies!”

Most combatants shifted to magical attacks. They targeted the spearman—aiming to kill.

“…You ask the impossible.”

The armored figure leveled the spear and stepped forward—new battle began. The two lines seemed about to collide—only to be halted by an out-of-place presence.

“So this is a buffer zone, is it…? Fools, every last one of you.”

The voice, strangely magnetic, drew others in.

A black-haired boy of perhaps his mid-teens stood there. His noble-like attire felt utterly out of place in the deep forest, and everyone felt the wrongness of it.

“Why is a child in a place like this…?”

“If you’ve leisure to fret about others, worry about your own heads.”

He showed not a trace of fear before armed soldiers—perhaps the privilege of nobility.

“…Some sheltered noble brat. Regret trespassing here, and die. …No mercy—bury the brat with the rest!”

“…Foolish. Boy, do not move carelessly.”

Spells streaked in. The armored figure stepped to intercept. But the first to act before either side was the black-haired boy—Zeke, the villain.

“My body… won’t move…”

“W-what is this!?”

The spells vanished, and both forces found themselves unable to move. Ice spread at their feet, pinning them to the earth.

“Take this farce elsewhere. You’re an eyesore.”

Zeke wore an unaffected expression, wholly unconcerned.

Ignoring their existence, he strode straight through the center of the battlefield. His arrogance left several onlookers gaping.

“W-wait! You think you’ll get away with this!?”

“I need none of your permission. Go become nourishment for the soil at best.”

The man who seemed to be a commander blanched at Zeke’s words. He struggled to break free of the bind, but it didn’t budge. He ranted and raved, but Zeke never looked back.

“…Boy, where did you learn magic of this level?”

The single voice came from the armored figure—Yasha—who alone had slipped the restraint.

“Oh? So there is someone here with a modicum of sense.”

“…This equipment is… special.”

Zeke stopped and turned. The armored figure faced him. Tension rippled through those nearby.

“Yasha-dono… can you engage?”

“…He bears no hostility. And I can tell you this: even with everyone here together, it would be difficult.”

Still bound, the man who seemed to be their leader nonetheless conversed deftly with the one called Yasha. His nerve was steady.

“Difficult? Hah, don’t make me laugh. Even if you swarmed me, the result is plain… Shall we test it?”

An evil smile curved Zeke’s lips. Magic surged, and chill filled the air. Frost seized the surrounding trees and sent shards scattering, a vision of the world’s end. Those who grasped the gulf between them trembled.

“…No, I’ll pass. I retract my earlier words.”

“Hmph. Empty-posturing cowards, the lot of you.”

Apparently losing interest, Zeke turned for good and left the scene, striding alone into the deep woods.

“…He didn’t flinch even before me.”

“Did you say something, Yasha-dono?”

“…A fancy. More importantly, let’s restrain them.”

While the enemy howled, Yasha calmly robbed each of consciousness and bound them one by one—the image was unsettling to behold.

A waterborne city built atop broad canals. A scenic capital that had measured long years alongside its waterways. Several bridges arched across the channels, and boats plied the currents.

Zeke (Hiroto) visited Waterl, capital of the Republic of Ignote—also known for its polity without a monarch.

(The model’s obviously that city… even if I’ve never been.)

Seeing a cityscape in this world that resembled one from the world he came from stirred an indescribable feeling. Of course, he hadn’t come for sightseeing. He had reached this place with firm intent and purpose.

The Republic of Ignote lay beyond several countries from the Kingdom of Diabalet. In the world of Wish Soul, it was rare: a democracy without kings or nobles. Its national leader was elected by the people, and governance was run by a parliament.

(It gives me a strange sense of familiarity.)

In the game, it had gotten brief mention but no real story role. So why was Hiroto in such a country now?—For reconnaissance.

He had planned from the start to flee abroad. Before putting it into action, he had come all the way to Ignote to scout.

Three years had passed since he possessed Zeke. When he realized he was the villain slated by the story to die for certain, despair had crushed him.

He had cursed fate—why me—but that alone would change nothing. So he had honed power, broadened knowledge, and tried to learn this world. He had avoided getting too close to the main players, avoided hostility. If the scenario advanced and he stayed alive, that would be enough.

(And yet… I couldn’t change a thing.)

He had done whatever it took to gain strength. He had resisted again and again. He had never stopped, even coughing blood. All to survive. For that alone, he had thrown away everything unnecessary.

(Then what I can do is limited.)

If forced into a villain’s role, he would resist to the bitter end. No matter who the opponent was—it didn’t matter. If needed, he was ready to stain his hands red. To oppose the world, one needed resolve to match.

And still, doubts sometimes whispered: to risk one’s life just to live—was that truly right?

(What was I getting so earnest about? I already planned an escape…)

No matter how strong he became as Zeke, he was still human. He could do more than most, but overturning everything was unrealistic. Then there was no need to charge head-on. In other words, he could run.

(Who cares about the scenario. I was just a high-school kid.)

Somewhere far from Lagias, from Zeke—far even from the Kingdom of Diabalet. To Hiroto, the Republic of Ignote—without kings and nobles, nearer to a modern nation—was a perfect bolt-hole.

There were, of course, risks. It was an unknown country where his knowledge of the original story wouldn’t help.

(The heroes would probably say they’re doing it “for the world,” right? Completely deranged…)

He had already gathered the funds needed to flee. Lived frugally, it would be enough to stay comfortable. He had done all of that alone… well, with an occasional companion.

(There’s no guarantee I can go back to my world. I should prepare multiple plans.)

On this scouting trip, he would learn Ignote and look for a place to live. Work could be modest. Starting over as an anonymous adventurer wouldn’t be bad. When exhausted, he could rest somewhere without mortal danger.

(My fight starts here…!)

“…You there, may we have a word?”

He turned to find two soldiers. Both wore their wariness openly.

As an aside: on the way to Ignote, Hiroto had crossed several borders—but he had never once gone through formal entry and exit. He feared leaving a Lagias-shaped trail. He had vaulted city gates with bodily skill, bypassed barriers with magic, and sprinted with blinding speed.

On suspicion of illegal entry, Zeke was taken into custody by the soldiers.