Jian first heard that voice in the nameless forest that day.
He couldn’t fully grasp what had happened, only that they had been transported in an instant for some unknown reason.
The surroundings were filled with noise.
The unique tranquility of the thick forest was nowhere to be found.
A sound rapidly descending from above.
A sound of something causing a massive explosion.
It was so loud that normal speech couldn’t be heard; only shouting could barely reach the ears of those next to him.
In the midst of it all, his party was surprisingly calm.
The priest, who introduced himself as Matthew Turner, seemed to have experience in places like this. He quickly assessed the situation and shouted for the children to run.
And the children—
Selena glanced at Jian.
Satsuki was fending off beasts and demons up ahead, occasionally turning her head to check Jian’s position.
Indeed, those kids trusted Jian.
When had that bond formed? It couldn’t be clearly stated. They trained together after school. At first, they trained in silence, but with daily repetition of the same actions, gaps of relaxation began to form, and the brief exchanges in that space gradually grew heavier, eventually becoming chatter.
Thus, Jian became friends with Selena, Rina, and Satsuki.
Clara, Aurora, and Linea were no different. Their paths home varied, but the gathering that formed had started with Clara and Rina’s duel.
And though it felt a bit embarrassing to say, Jian was the most skilled among them.
He gripped his sword sheathe in one hand and fiercely drew his sword with the other. Swinging it forward, demons and beasts were cut in half in an instant.
The beast that had appeared before Selena,
And the demon that tried to ambush Satsuki were all sliced apart.
Jian could handle the beasts and demons somehow. The blood of a swordsman flowed through his veins, making it all possible. Though he hadn’t fully bloomed yet, he possessed a talent that was nothing short of overwhelming.
However, that overwhelming power warned Jian.
It wasn’t a warning about the demons or beasts.
Boom!
Something exploded. Dirt and rock fragments fell from above.
That’s right. He could manage the demons and beasts. Selena and Satsuki were no helpless children, and Matthew Turner was nearly matching Jian’s prowess against the demons and beasts.
But—
Those falling things above, possibly bombs or shells—
Were something Jian couldn’t do anything about.
He had the talent to sense that something was coming his way. But that was all. It was too fast to evade. If even one shell hit him directly, both he and the four present wouldn’t leave a trace behind.
‘Damn it!’
What is this innate ability, this overwhelming power?
If he couldn’t properly use it, it was useless.
He had excuses. Jian was still young, and his talent hadn’t fully blossomed. He couldn’t confidently call himself a swordsman.
But still—
Without that capability here, ultimately, whether it was talent or whatever, it would be of no use—
[…Things are getting tangled up.]
The moment Jian heard that voice was then.
*
“…Huh?”
Jian blinked.
Just a moment ago, he was certainly fleeing an artillery attack in some forest.
But in an instant, without even realizing it, he had moved to a completely different place.
[No, you are still in that place.]
A voice that sounded like it shook the very fabric of space.
[Hold on, I made time feel very slow for you. But that’s just how it feels; time is flowing normally, and staying in this state won’t be good for you, so I’ll get straight to the point.]
The voice paused for a moment, as if taking a breath, then continued.
[I am Demon God Baal.]
Introducing itself like that, it proclaimed,
[Become my apostle.]
It wasn’t a voice suggesting something; it simply stated it was what should be done.
[In this moment, I will help your talent bloom. I will allow you to possess all the power you will have in the future, right now.]
“…What if I refuse?”
Jian knew in his head that there had been no other way. If he refused or claimed it was a lie, they would surely die on the spot.
[Do you know why you came to this place?]
“…”
[Not far from here, there is a girl named Clara Anderson. She is preparing to go out to extinguish a magic point.]
“…!”
Before Jian could respond, the voice continued.
[The reason you all ended up here is to have you die at the hands of humans. Perhaps to shatter her spirit with the remains of your bodies.]
The voice paused momentarily, as if it was giving Jian time to think.
[Now you know what you have to do, right?]
Jian nodded.
Whether the voice’s words were true or false was no longer important. He couldn’t ascertain whether Clara was really on the other side or not.
But he did understand that they must not die.
The shells falling from above belonged to humans. The beasts and demons had no such weapons. If they had, survival would be impossible to begin with.
If they died here, the unfolding events might just happen as the voice had described.
[Good.]
Jian thought he could hear a hint of laughter in that voice.
[Then from this moment, you are my apostle. Go. Protect them as much as you can. You have the strength to do so. And—]
This time, the voice added with a distinctly amused tone,
[If you can’t trust me, ask the saintess in the future. Whether I am someone you can believe in. As my only two apostles, her answer will surely prove it.]
“What?”
But the saintess doesn’t exist in this era—
Before he could express his confusion, consciousness slowly returned. The black curtain unfurled in the distance, and he returned to the original world.
[Ah, and don’t die recklessly. You’re quite important. Don’t waste my effort.]
With that voice, the silence vanished, and the surroundings filled with noise.
*
“…”
Jian, regaining his senses, was running. To be accurate, it would be more right to say he lost consciousness while running and regained it. Did the voice really make time stretch that much? He didn’t even stagger in the middle.
He couldn’t distinguish whether what he had just seen was the truth or a fleeting illusion. They were so fleeting, he couldn’t tell if such a vivid delusion could happen.
Without the time to properly clear his confused mind—
Jian sensed something falling from above toward them.
He had no choice but to try.
Otherwise, their only fate left would be death.
Jian gripped the sword tightly with both hands and stopped his moving legs, pivoting to fix his feet on the ground. His body slid, kicking up dust.
“Hey, what are you doing? Run!”
Matthew, who was rushing from behind, shouted that. And it was understandable. Stopping one’s steps with bombs raining from above was akin to giving up on life.
But at that moment, Jian gambled on his instincts toward the future.
He glared at the sky.
Whoosh, something was falling.
Jian took a deep breath and focused his mind.
—He could see it.
From between the dense branches parting below, through a narrow slit in the sky,
The massive shell falling at an incredible speed that he would never normally see.
Jian swung his sword with all his might.
Crack, the blade cracked slightly,
And just like that, the incoming shell split in half.
Thinking back now, it wasn’t that he was gambling on the future at that moment; Jian believed he was merely accepting it.
*
“…”
Jian opened his eyes, blinking at the white ceiling for a long while.
…It was the first time he had seen past memories in a dream just like that.
Was it because of what happened last night?
To be honest, he couldn’t say he hadn’t caught the mood.
The suggestion to ask the saintess turned out to be quite literal after Clara was canonized afterward. The saintess appeared after 50 years, and only then did Jian realize that the saintess mentioned by Demon God Baal was Clara.
Had the voice that claimed to be Demon God Baal been that of a demon or a beast, it would have borrowed Jian’s body to attack Clara already. It was a bit regretful to say this to Clara, who was constantly working hard to enhance her abilities, but her skill was far inferior to Jian’s.
…And if it weren’t for that, he would have been stopped by Clara.
That day, Jian witnessed Demon God Baal borrowing Clara’s body to eliminate a witch.
The black light emanating from Clara’s face, suspended far away.
The very faint voice of Demon God Baal he heard with enhanced hearing.
[But will I forgive you?]
Jian’s memory wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t distinguish that voice he had heard less than an hour ago.
Above all, it was an impressively smooth and deep voice.
And the voice that he had heard before, which was not Clara’s, must have belonged to the goddess.
Just that fact alone effectively proved the existence of Baal.
Yet, he still found it necessary to talk to Clara,
…Well, it was probably because of the atmosphere.
Sitting in a chair bathed in bright moonlight, her figure looked as if crafted by the gods, making him want to strike up a conversation.
He didn’t feel any inhibitions; rather, it felt somewhat like he was looking at a statue in a cathedral.
So, it meant she appeared sacred.
…Well, although the image of her spraying water right after invoking Baal’s name looked like that of an innocent girl, it was all the same. The point was if he remained silent, she wouldn’t be offended.
“I guess I shouldn’t have spoken.”
He had approached her because of that sacred appearance, but her flustered expression upon hearing him only mirrored that of an ordinary girl his age.
What should he say? She seemed small to bear too many burdens.
If he said something like that to Clara herself, she might get angry.
But still, it felt like he burdened the saintess Clara, who had already taken on much.
“…”
He clapped both cheeks with his hands. Then, stretching out his arms, he sprang up.
After all, as the only male among his party, he had the room to do something a bit odd.
Even if he had just woken up, his body felt refreshed. While he had stretched out of habit, he actually didn’t even need to stretch before doing anything most of the time. Having already possessed all the talents he would have in the future was precisely why.
But he still kept to his routine to avoid becoming lazy. After all, he was Lee Jian, the descendant of a swordsman, and he couldn’t bring disgrace to that name. Even if he could no longer grow, he wouldn’t neglect training. While he couldn’t grow, his skill might diminish.
After completing simple morning exercises and taking a shower, he left his room.
…And ran into Clara.
With her still damp hair, she sat in the spot she had occupied yesterday, sipping banana milk.
“…”
“…Why are you staring like that?”
For a brief moment, he had been staring blankly, but Clara raised her brows and asked like that.
Seeing her expression, Jian couldn’t help but chuckle.
Somehow, she looked perfectly fine.
It made what he had just worried about seem foolish.
“…”
Clara’s eyes narrowed. Those eyes were similar to the ones she had when looking at Rina. The eyes that conveyed she was mocking or picking a quarrel with her, at least that was the impression Jian had. He had never seen Clara express those kinds of feelings toward anyone besides Rina.
Honestly, when Clara looked at Rina with those eyes, it didn’t feel like contempt or anger, but rather like she was watching a close friend make a foolish mistake.
It felt like a wall blocking their relationship had suddenly disappeared.
Ah, would Clara get angry if he said that to her?
Jian laughed gleefully while Clara glared at him, not understanding what was amusing him.
—Eventually, what Linea saw as she came out of her room after finishing her shower was Jian holding back laughter, tossing a couch pillow at Clara with all his might.
*
In the end, unable to hold back the infuriating laughter, Jian threw the pillow that had been resting on the sofa and regretted lending an ear to that fellow’s worries last night.
…For some reason, it felt like a character like Rina had multiplied.
…Moreover, that one was the strongest being in the world.
No matter how much Jian struggled, he’d just end up squished in a corner if she pressed down with a finger.
No, more than that, he didn’t even understand why she was making that expression.
While looking at the face of Jian, who approached him with a smile, apologizing while handing over the pillow, he seriously pondered if it might be okay to hit him once or twice since he wouldn’t get hurt anyway.
*
Side Story
~That Day, in the Temple of Gods~
“Huh.”
Baal, having finished interfering with the world, leaned back in the chair he was sitting in. He placed his left ankle over his right knee, with his right hand resting on his belly and his left arm hanging down beside the chair, adopting a completely slovenly posture.
However, considering he was a god to begin with, there was no one to criticize him for that posture.
“Baal.”
There was no ‘person’ to get pointed out.
If it was Ariel, a god of equal standing, she could certainly call him out. But obviously, as suggested by the ‘equal’ term, it was just something Baal would ignore. Conversely, if Baal offered advice that didn’t match Ariel’s character, she could reject it just as easily.
“That kid is tougher than I thought.”
What Baal referred to was, of course, Jian, whom he had just interfered with.
For a brief moment, Baal borrowed Jian’s body. Using divine power to extend his perception of a moment and making time feel elongated, he quickly said the things he wanted to. In normal scenarios, that alone could harm the human.
Of course, he had somewhat predicted this would happen.
There was no choice. At least from Baal and Ariel’s perspective, they were beings that must not die. They would play critical roles later.
…Well, that’s what was written in the ‘creator’s’ notes.
Still, there was a significant difference between having a good hand and not having one.
“Yeah, he’s as tough as young Clara Anderson. The body may endure, despite the soul, but that body was made by us, after all.”
The body of Clara Anderson, in other words, was a body crafted in the Temple of Gods and sent down to the mortal realm. Adhering to the laws from that side to exist, it was originally made here. It wouldn’t be strange for it to withstand divine strength and miraculous power significantly better.
But Jian’s body was different. It was simply a body made according to the laws of that side, without anyone influencing or designing it—a product of sheer coincidence from layers of cause and effect overlapping.
“Surely, this is what being a ‘protagonist’ means.”
Knowing that no matter how much he criticized, Baal wouldn’t sit upright in a proper posture, Ariel spoke plainly while sitting straight in her chair.
“…I see, it’s because it was written that way.”
Baal chewed on the words he just repeated.
“For sure, there are times I envy your powers. How easily you intervene in the world. It’s so hard for me to influence those unaware of my existence.”
“Well, there’s no need to feel inferior about that. Our powers are different; no one can say one is superior. In situations like this, my abilities may just be more convenient.”
Most humans couldn’t withstand any interference. Their bodies would surely suffer some damage somewhere. For that reason, when compared, divine power or miracles are somewhat safer. While a wizard unable to control their mana may get hurt or go mad, a person who couldn’t handle divine power wouldn’t be killed or harmed—unless they were a demon trying to wield it or a human calling forth miraculous power.
In that sense, Jian was certainly a peculiar existence for Baal.
How could a being not directly created by him hold such power?
No, what was truly strange was—
‘Could it really be possible because it was “written” that way?’
Were the words used to write creating a world, even logical?
Moreover, the beginning of the world wasn’t even written; only a small fragment of the world had been casually jotted down, yet could such writing create an entire world?
‘Perhaps, it might be the other way around.’
The worlds affect each other.
It may not have been that that side influenced this side, but rather that this side influenced that side.
Well, if not, perhaps that ‘creator’ had the potential to become a god.
Baal’s gaze shifted to Ariel.
What thoughts were blooming in that woman’s mind as she sat there, seemingly deep in thought with her eyes closed?
What plans were being devised?
It would be useless to doubt.
After all, the story she had thought up had already begun.
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