How much time had passed since then?
There was probably no more meaningless question than that in a place like this.
[Haaam~ Mm, how boring.]
As everyone had probably already realized, this place was the inner world within the mental landscape of the boy Bell Cranel.
In other words, it was the space of the mind.
In a place like this, the passage of time held little meaning.
In practical terms, a single day here would amount to only a few minutes outside.
Even so, that did not mean it was completely irrelevant.
As the Caster, who had been idly passing the time beside him, felt it,
by the time quite a bit of time had passed,
[Hm?]
something interesting caught his eye.
No, contrary to his expectations, that "time" had arrived astonishingly quickly.
[Oh-ho, what do we have here?]
As expected of the seed of a hero recognized by a Magus in his own way.
[And he's not even a max-level rabbit... so he's not entirely without merit, is that it?]
The Caster was not a warrior who used weapons or his own body.
Nor was he a Magus who handled mystery.
He had been registered on the Throne of Heroes as a world-famous figure, yes.
But he was nothing more than a mere fairy-tale author.
A powerless man who knew only how to write.
His combat ability, in and of itself, was close to zero.
But.
That did not mean he had no eye for things at all.
Especially since what was happening now was not some lofty or grand domain that would be incomprehensible even to someone utterly ignorant of combat.
It was simply something ordinary.
Something that would one day come naturally.
The only problem was this.
That the time had come far earlier than the Caster had expected.
That was all.
The boy's growth had astonishingly ignored his "observation" and run far ahead on its own, way off into the distance.
It was none other than that Caster's "eyes" that had failed to predict it.
It was unquestionably his miscalculation.
And yet, at the same time,
his honest feeling was that it was not such an unpleasant failure.
[Ha! I'm in no position to criticize others, huh.]
Clang!Kang!Kreeeek!
"Guh! Haaah!"
Sword met sword.
Flame tangled with flame.
No more red life scattered through the air.
Within that, the "living rabbit" and the "white mannequin" matched each other's rhythm and tested one another's dance.
In other words, to put it another way,
before long, the boy Bell Cranel
was standing his ground evenly against the "White" before him.
[Let's see... roughly how many times was it? About seventy deaths, give or take?]
He had not bothered to count carefully because it was a pain.
But it seemed to be around that number.
By contrast, the number of deaths the Caster had estimated it would take for such a scene to unfold was well over three hundred.
Even that had been a conservative estimate on his part.
And yet the actual result was this.
Even seeing it with his own eyes, he could hardly believe it.
This was nothing short of a miracle.
An astonishing rate of growth no different from yet another cheat.
[Well, well. What a cheeky little brat.]
Despite his rough tone, the Caster's expression was mischievously amused.
That was how delighted and pleased he was by his own misjudgment.
It was not merely because he could escape this trivial place early.
More than that, the reason he was pleased was not so different from the usual of that foolish old Master who was not here now.
[Well, he's still a little lacking if I were to use him as material.]
Even so, he was a rookie with a promising future ahead of him.
And if possible, I'd like to watch a little longer and write down the story of that future.
[Ha, what am I even...]
The Caster, who had briefly entertained such thoughts, shook his head without lingering on them.
What could not be done could not be done.
In that case, at the very least, let him carve this miraculous sight before his eyes into memory.
Let him remember it and take it back to the Throne.
Even if that too would amount to nothing more than a single line in a dream.
It would still have meaning in its own way.
"Haa... haa..."
Meanwhile, Bell Cranel had somehow forgotten the passage of time.
How many times had he been killed? What was happening outside? Were his companions all right now?
He had also stopped worrying about those things.
For him now, even that was nothing more than a luxury.
He had no room for such things.
The opponent before him allowed none of it.
Whoosh!
"Guh!"
Clang! Kang!
The moment he caught his breath, the other side closed in and swung the knife twice.
Bell desperately blocked the ambush.
Before he knew it, he had begun to see the movements of the white doppelganger before him.
Not only could he see them now, but little by little, he was beginning to understand them.
Thanks to that, despite the overwhelming difference in physical specs between them,
he was able to respond to the opponent's movements.
Whoosh!
"...Amazing."
So I can move like that too.
That brief exclamation came amid the relentless offensive.
Only then did Bell begin to understand the White before him.
The opponent was unquestionably an enemy.
And yet at the same time, not an enemy.
He... this doppelganger before him...
"...Me."
White was none other than Bell Cranel himself.
It was not merely that they looked alike or had the same fighting style.
It was something more fundamental than that.
As they crossed blades, mixed bodies, and were occasionally killed and revived, Bell began to understand the opponent before him.
He began to hear the cries in his heart.
"I don't want to fight!"
This was a corner of the heart.
Bell's immaturity, which he had somehow already forgotten.
"I don't want to be hurt!"
This was a corner of the heart.
Bell's weakness, which he still possessed and forcibly suppressed.
"I don't want to die!"
This was a corner of the heart.
Bell's primal instinct, which he would have to carry not only now but into the future as well.
And beyond those three cries, something even larger.
"I... don't want to be separated from anyone ever again!"
This was a corner of the heart.
The childhood trauma the boy carried.
The pain and fear born from parting with that precious "person" in the past.
"Grandpa..."
That was why Bell understood.
He could understand.
The White before him was not something that had merely copied him.
That thing... that pure white shadow before his eyes was...
"...Myself from childhood."
[Yes, that's right.]
At that moment, the Caster, who had been silently watching until now, cut in.
As if declaring that this was his true role.
[Didn't someone say a hero is one who puts himself on the line? A truly apt expression.]
"Caster..."
[Forget me and listen. You're still the weaker one here. Don't stop moving.]
"...Yes!"
At the fairy-tale author's irritable advice, Bell moved.
In response, White swung the sword.
Watching the clash between the two, the Caster continued.
[People often forget something simple: that the past they've lived through is also part of themselves.]
And by forgetting that, they mistake themselves for having grown.
Even though the opposite is true.
[They say a country that forgets its past has no future. The same goes for people. The past you've lived through is, in the end, yourself. How can forgetting that be called growth?]
"Then... does that mean I haven't grown at all?"
[You idiot. Someone as needlessly earnest and good as you—do you really think you'd be that kind of person? You can tell that much at a glance.]
Just as he said.
Bell Cranel had never once forgotten the past.
He had simply buried it in a corner of his heart.
In that dark little corner, he had only occasionally brushed over it whenever he happened to remember.
Yes, in that way.
He had merely wrapped his past in the shell of something called "memories" and left it alone.
[That was enough until now. But from here on, it's different. The heroes I know, the ones that brat has seen, are beings beyond that. If you want to stand alongside those kinds of people, you have to pass through this checkpoint.]
This was not merely about reflecting on one's shortcomings.
What Bell had to do now was face directly the childishness and weakness of the past he had left behind as mere memories.
And then acknowledge and accept all of it himself.
["Know thyself." That was what the famous philosopher Socrates said. Indeed. For human growth, what better or more direct advice could there be?]
This was the optimal method by which a human grows into the next stage.
The story of a person truly overcoming himself.
Only a human who could surpass himself like that could move on to the next stage.
[Well, let's set all that mental stuff aside for now.]
It's about time we settled this, isn't it?
"Yes."
At the Caster's words, Bell nodded and took his stance.
And White did the same.
Swish
Both of them simultaneously assumed the exact same posture.
It was a stance they had seen, received, and imitated countless times here.
-[Fireball.]
Fwoosh
The boy's ultra-short incantation, repeated again and again.
At its end, two flames bloomed on both sides.
However, the flames were aimed not at each other, but at themselves.
"Hoo."
Then.
Tap!
"Haaahhhhh!"
The two knives brushed past each other.
But neither of them fell.
Only a small flame blossomed on one body.
[Good work.]
The Caster, who had been watching it all from behind, gave a brief assessment with a snort of laughter.
Yes, the victor was...
[Your victory.]
Bell Cranel.
With that declaration.
Fwoooosh!
White's body burst into flames and collapsed.
Without a word, without even a scream.
Just blankly, silently disappearing like an actor who had finished the role assigned to him.
Bell watched that end with, for some reason, a bitter expression.
[Don't think too much of it. It was only an accident, not something the creator intended. In any case, this and that are all mirage-like fakes. They're also real at the same time, but it's not like you need to make that face. In the end, it all just returns to yourself anyway.]
"Caster..."
[What is it? I'm in a good mood now that I'm finally getting out of this boring place. I'll even take a few trivial questions as a special service.]
Of course, whether I answer them is up to me.
At that mischievous yet strangely considerate remark, Bell fell silent for a moment.
Then he finally opened his mouth.
"Please tell me."
About the Magus you know, Caster.
And at that bold question, the fairy-tale author still smiled wickedly.
[Well now... that's a very good question.]
Without hesitation, he began to speak.
About another world called Earth, completely different from this place.
And about the humans called Magi and the great beings called Heroic Spirits who existed there.
About a great ritual born from them.
About the two who met there, fought, helped each other, clashed, overcame it all, and in the end parted ways.
[Well, that's roughly how it went. I too returned to the Throne back then. The me here is nothing more than a leftover fragment of thought, mere dregs not even fit to be called a shadow.]
"A war with heroes... As expected, the Magus was an incredible person."
[If you call that incredible, then sure, I suppose he was. Even by the common sense of that world, people like that are rare. No, I can say with absolute certainty that he was the first and the last. That damned romance-obsessed fool.]
From the very beginning, the motive for all this was rotten.
He probably just wanted to bully that Apollo Familia bunch and have himself a grand old time as he pleased. It's obvious without even looking. The ones caught up in it for no reason were the poor fools who had to suffer for it.
Despite the sharp tone of criticism, the Caster's expression was clearly smiling.
Though it was only a mischievous smile, Bell could still tell.
The bond between the two men.
The friendship the Caster held for that Magus.
[Well, that's enough of the trivial talk. This boring space ends here too. There won't be any more reason to come. I'll be dismissed as well and return to where I ought to be.]
"I... thank you for everything until now."
[What a fool. At times like this, you're supposed to curse me out for making you go through unnecessary trouble. Don't you even know that much common sense?]
"Ah, haha..."
[Hmph! What an unnecessarily good-natured idiot.]
Go on, get going.
Your companions are waiting.
The exit is over there.
Saying that, the Caster turned away, and from his toes upward, he began to disappear little by little.
Watching that final figure, Bell showed a brief trace of sadness.
Then he hardened his expression.
"I'll be going now! It was only for a moment, but... thank you, Caster!"
With that farewell as his last words, he too turned around.
And he hurried off in the direction the Caster had shown him.
For the sake of the precious companions waiting for him outside.
[Ha, honestly. What a frustratingly foolish idiot.]
And the Caster, who had subtly checked that back view with a sidelong glance, said,
[Still, giving a little final service to a guy like that doesn't seem so bad.]
Isn't that right, Master?
As if he did not need any answer at all, he unfolded a book made of magical energy in his hand.
Then, on the blank pages within, he wrote several lines of elegant prose.
At the end of it all, the story's ending was, needless to say, a happy ending.
The ending of the story his old Master had loved and wanted so much.
[It's only a simple abridged version, and even that is just one bit of help this time... but shall I write out your lives? The title... yes.]
"Märchen Meines Lebens" (A Story for You).
And from within the book, a single light rose.
In response, the world answered faintly.
And then, with that,
Shaa...
the old bond returned completely to where it had always belonged.
Farewell, my friend.
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