"I'm different from Shirone. I can do anything if I set my mind to it. So, you'd better pray that Shirone comes back and takes care of me."
Iruki's eyes narrowed, and sparks seemed to flicker in his pupils.
"If Shirone stays dead, I'll kill you first, no matter what."
Canis' mental channel opened, and Harvest's voice echoed in his mind.
-Canis, this is a warning. You're in danger of being targeted.
-Understood. I already knew what a Servant is.
-It's not like that. The speed of their calculations is incredibly fast. It's estimated to be over 10,000 times faster than our mental channels.
Canis couldn't believe it. The speed of thought exchange was faster than human comprehension—10,000 times faster.
-What level is that?
-It's the equivalent of analyzing all the events in the city in just three seconds. You'll need a special strategy to handle them. But we're criminals, so if we cause an accident here, it'll put us at a disadvantage.
Canis wasn't backing down, his stubbornness being the reason he was chosen as Arcane's disciple. But now wasn't the right time. Arin, seeing the situation escalating, intervened.
"But doesn't that mean you think Shirone isn't really dead?"
Iruki's Spirit Zone vanished. Arin, who could sense things through menarche, felt the atmosphere lighten as Iruki regained control. He had to be calm, more so than anyone else. It was enough for the people in the infirmary to let their emotions take over.
"Shirone is dead. If you don't accept that fact, there's no solution. I'm just thinking rationally."
"No. You believe Shirone is alive, maybe more than those two people in the room."
Iruki glared at Arin. The Servant's ability to calculate the causality of events was unmatched. There was no room for irrational emotions.
"What do you know about me?"
"I have menarche. I see everything as though it's happening for the first time. I don't remember the shape of things, so everything appears differently each time."
"So?"
"I can see your emotions, in a form no one else can."
"I'm fine. Dead is dead. There's no room for emotions."
"No. It's different."
Arin shook her head.
"You're crying, with a very sad expression right now."
Iruki had no answer.
As Arin had said, there was no arguing against menarche.
That night, the door to the infirmary slowly creaked open.
Amy lay on the cot, exhausted from crying, while Neid slept in a chair in the corner.
Iruki approached Shirone's body. Sleeping and being dead felt different, but seeing Shirone's cold face made him feel like he might break down.
In the morning, the teachers would come to check on Shirone, and preparations for a funeral would begin, starting with embalming. But there was no way to save Shirone now.
Iruki fought to control his emotions and pulled out the scalpel he had hidden.
'I will save you, no matter what.'
He looked over at Amy and Neid—neither of them showed any sign of moving. They had been there for two days, exhausted and stressed. No wonder they were still.
With a sigh, Iruki finally used the scalpel. The blade glinted in the moonlight as it cut through Shirone's skin.
Shirone felt as if he'd been struck on the head with a hammer. Even if this place was part of the afterlife, meeting a god was on a completely different level.
"Are you... a god?" he asked.
"Do you not believe it?" the woman replied with a gentle smile.
"Well, I didn't even know a god existed in the first place," Shirone said. "But if one did, I didn't expect them to look so... human."
She smiled knowingly.
"Every creation inevitably resembles its creator. Just as human-made objects reflect human thought and form, the same applies to nature. Plants, animals, mountains, seas—they all reflect God in their own way. The difference lies in their creativity. A squirrel, for example, is more creative than a rock. In that sense, humans are especially godlike. And you, Shirone... you are one of the most godlike of them all."
She reached out and gently touched Shirone's face.
"Shirone, would you like to create a world with me?"
He was overwhelmed. Everything felt sudden, unreal. But above all, her earlier words echoed in his mind—that this place wasn't the afterlife. Was that... hope?
"Is there a way for me to go back?" he asked hesitantly.
The woman looked surprised. Then she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Shirone. There is no way back. Didn't you choose to end your life? Do you wish to return now?"
"It's not that," Shirone said quickly. "I was prepared for it. And if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have even regained this much clarity. But... may I call you this way?"
"Of course. 'God' is just a concept. I have no name."
"Then... may I ask you something else?"
She laughed softly. "Go ahead."
"Why are you lying?"
Her expression stiffened, and the entire temple trembled from the tension.
"God does not lie," she said. "In fact, I cannot lie."
It was a strange claim. If a god were truly omnipotent, lying wouldn't be possible—because anything they said would become the truth. But Shirone saw something in her eyes. She was hiding something.
"When I asked if there was a way back, you said no. But that's not true, is it?"
"There's no way back without me. That's why I said there's no way."
"That's still a lie."
"You don't understand, Shirone! There's no possible way for me to return. That means I can't go back. Ever!"
"Then let me ask again. I'm not asking about your choice. I'm asking factually—is there a way to return to the world I came from?"
"There is no way!" she insisted.
"That's another lie."
The woman flinched. Shirone caught it. She was shaken, and the temple around them flickered like light dancing through water.
"Are you really a god?"
He had doubted from the beginning. Of course, no one truly knows what a god should look like—but even so, her behavior felt too human.
The woman gave a small nod, as if she'd been expecting the question.
"Shirone, our understanding of God differs. That's where the confusion lies. God is not some lofty, unreachable being. A god is simply the designer of a world."
She raised her hand, and a glass sphere floated above her palm. Inside, a small village scene unfolded—quiet and peaceful, with a few people going about their day.
"See this village? I created it. It's just a model, but I can move the people within it."
She reached her finger into the sphere and shifted a farmer from his barn to a nearby field.
"Now the farmer has moved. Moving space is like bending time. Do you see anything different from the world you used to live in? No. That's what a god is—someone who can create a world one level below their own."
She held the glass ball close to Shirone.
"A god is, at most, a designer of a lesser dimension. Why do you still think a god is absolute? Here's the interesting part: the farmer has no idea he was moved. He doesn't feel any force acting on him."
She lifted the sphere again, and the village inside suddenly expanded—stretching out to engulf the temple.
When Shirone looked around, he realized he was now in the village. The two of them stood at the edge of a path, surrounded by still, frozen people.
She walked over to the farmer, who was tilling the land.
"This man doesn't realize how incomplete this world is. To him, it's reality—because he was born here. There's only one way to realize the truth."
"The Immortal Function," Shirone said.
"Exactly. The Immortal Function expands the senses entirely. This world is enclosed in a glass sphere. So in a way, there's no world beyond it."
She touched the farmer's shoulder. He shimmered, turned to light, and spread across the sky. Then, as she closed her hand into a fist, the entire scene collapsed, shrinking the village back into the glass sphere.
Shirone watched in silence, the farmer's light still lingering in his vision.
"The farmer's senses were fully expanded through the Immortal Function," the woman said. "But even then, he couldn't perceive me. The same goes for you, Shirone."
Shirone stared at the sphere. The farmer's fate didn't feel far from his own. Had he not resisted, he too might have dissolved into meaningless light.
"What do you want from me? Even if I understand... what can I actually do?"
"This," she replied softly.
She pressed the glass sphere between her palms. It compressed into a single, dark speck.
"A dot…?"
"Yes. That is the true nature of our world. The world you lived in—it's just a dot. But inside it lies an infinite universe. That's the space-time matrix."
She opened her palms again. The dot vanished, and a new world appeared. A world within a world, and then another world within that. On and on. Then she closed her palms again, and everything vanished. Billions of universes were gone in an instant.
"Enter the space-time I created. Make your own space-time within it. Then a perfect universe will be born."
She seemed eager to reform her world. It wasn't an unreasonable offer. In fact, for someone who had faced death, becoming a god of another world felt like a fitting conclusion.
But Shirone shook his head.
"I can't."
The woman spoke as if she couldn't understand.
"Why? There's no reason for you to refuse."
Shirone answered calmly.
"Because if I step into your time-space again, someone like me will have to be sacrificed."
A flicker of sadness passed through the woman's eyes. But it quickly vanished, replaced by her usual cold expression as she responded.
"What does that matter? This is the world you created."
"But you're not a god," Shirone said firmly.
For the first time, a hint of hostility appeared in the woman's gaze.
"You're just a human, living in the same world as me. The fact that I was summoned here before I completely vanished proves that. If you were truly a god, you'd exist outside this world."
The woman didn't argue. But her silence didn't change anything.
"Shirone," she said, her tone sharper, "you must obey me. I summoned you for a reason. If you refuse, I can dissolve you right here and now."
She was right—the form Shirone now had was a spirit, reconstructed by her power. Technically, he could be dismissed at any moment. But as long as there was even a sliver of hope of returning to the real world, Shirone had no intention of backing down.
"I won't disappear," he said firmly.
The woman extended her hand and cast the Almighty of Destruction. But Shirone didn't fade. He had already entered the Spirit Zone.
The woman paused and gave a small nod of recognition.
"You figured out the problem. A wise decision."
She slowly lowered her hand.
"I see now. The Spirit Zone was another 'spot' all along."
The spot—an area that could be infinitely penetrated through the space-time matrix—was the reason Shirone's spirit body was able to re-enter the Spirit Zone.
"And this place… it's your Spirit Zone," he said.
Shirone began to focus the energy of light within him. The woman frowned, clearly displeased. A red aura flared from Shirone's body, radiating a fierce pressure that pushed back against her presence.