What waited beyond that was nothing but lethargy.
"To know everything is the same as stagnation. There is no progress, no refinement, no joy. —I didn't think I'd be subjected to such a fate even after death."
Ah, so this is all it is. That had been his only impression upon reaching the zenith of Truth.
"I have knowledge, but no friends to share it with. I have power, but nothing to prove it against. —In the end, all that remained of 'me' was my consciousness."
"..."
"—So, I slept. My consciousness won't disappear, and death has been stripped away from me. Sleeping was the only freedom I had left."
A consciousness without purpose is a heavy burden.
Ah, why is the Truth so incredibly boring? He had been slumbering in a half-daze, mid-yawn.
And then, he said, he heard my cry.
"You said you found something you wanted to do after you died. It was the polar opposite of my own experience. To be honest, I was intrigued. Vivid innocence and stagnant omnipotence. Looking back, we were total opposites, weren't we?"
"Vivid innocence... and stagnant omnipotence."
"—But you have grown so brilliantly. You have refined yourself and now stand before me. That fact... makes me happy."
It began as a whim, but she had answered it.
She had shown him a magnificent, shining story.
"The journey you showed me was truly enjoyable. It gave me a sense of emotion and excitement I haven't felt in... well, perhaps ever. To think a human could reach the level of a god simply by the merit of their soul."
"—That is only because everything surrounding me was so full of light. Because of everything that shaped me, and because you were the one who let me dive into that world."
That was a truth that would never change.
I reached this place because everyone was there for me.
The "Fate" of meeting them all is what made me.
"...I see. You chose that path, and you chose that 'self.'"
Suddenly, my body felt light, as if floating.
"Thank you. —For giving a single point of pride to this hollow, lethargic omnipotence. Being the catalyst for your existence is one of my few proudest achievements."
Slowly, my consciousness began to drift away.
"—Your soul is alive. When one is reincarnated, they are often granted many boons, but your 'gift' is the very fact that you are living."
"Wait, you...!"
"'You are the living being who will change destiny and its conclusion.' Never forget that. Your very existence is indispensable to the future you desire."
The voice grew distant. Further and further away.
"Goodbye. I was glad we could talk. Thank you for giving thanks to someone like me."
"—You...!"
"—Oh, right. A name. It would be far too rude not to give you my name at the very least."
The name was whispered into the void.
"I am Akashic. ...And your name?"
"—Ea! My name... is Ea!"
"—I see. I won't forget it. It's a fine name. —Safe travels. Your journey will soon reach its end."
That warm voice echoed one last time.
"From there, live your own time exactly as you wish. —I'll be watching. Your journey... always."
Give my regards to that 'Fou' creature. With those final words, Ea's consciousness ascended—
"—Nn."
When I opened my eyes, I was in a study.
Waking the soul that always rests by the King's side, I rubbed my eyes.
"Alright, the manuscript is done. You certainly made me work for it. Accept it with gratitude for my motivation, you insufferable 'King of High Spirits.'"
With a sarcastic remark, Andersen tossed a book over.
"'A Story for You'... write a name at the end there. It'll take the form of whatever that person desires."
"So you finished by the deadline. It seems you have at least a modicum of professional pride, playwright."
"Of course I do. The deadline was a mile away and the workspace was perfect. I'd have to be insane to fail under these conditions. ...Though, if I have one complaint..."
Andersen kicked his legs up with a thud.
"I couldn't quite pin down the 'form' you're aiming for—the source of your good mood. That's my only regret."
"Is that why the name is blank? A sharp-eyed author indeed."
"Obviously. Your sudden burst of 'productivity' is well beyond the level of just being 'in a good mood.' —I've left a blank space for the cause of it. Write that in as the period at the end of the sentence. That will complete the Noble Phantasm."
Do the final touch yourself—
That was the prickly author's final act of encouragement.
"Hmph. I shall accept your service with grace. —The revelation of that cause shall take place in the proper setting. Look forward to it."
"Oh, I'm counting on it. I couldn't stop my pen because I was so busy wondering what the hell it was! You'd better make me a decent stew to make it worth my while!"
—Mr. Andersen.
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