Chapter 43
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The One Who Was a Watcher V
Shin No-a
7
Crash-
The sound of glass shattering echoed from all directions. It was proof that the Saintess's aura had activated, though I hadn't caught it with my eyes just now.
The bullets rushing toward me like a school of sharks shattered all at once. The hand axes rolled across the ground. The sight of thousands of bullets being crushed like powder and scattering mixed with the snowfall was truly spectacular.
"...."
The perpetrator of this miracle-like scene, the Saintess—or the corrupted one I would later name the 'Executor'—was staring blankly at me.
"What are you trying to do?"
The Saintess's tone sounded ordinary at first glance. But I had spent countless ages with her and would continue to do so. It was difficult to completely hide emotions from a partner with whom thousands of years of connection were fated.
The Saintess was flustered.
'As expected.'
I nodded.
From the start, this wasn't even a fight.
The Saintess truly had no intention of killing me. Her goal was merely subjugation, nothing more.
I couldn't know exactly what picture she had painted in her mind. Unfortunately, I wouldn't master telepathy until the 554th iteration, and this was still only the 107th.
But there were clues to conjecture.
"Saintess."
"Yes."
"Please stop using time stop. And send back the Awakened you summoned. Otherwise, I will immediately, without any hesitation, commit suicide."
"...."
The Saintess looked into my eyes. For a fleeting moment. Perhaps eternally. Or perhaps while looking at herself through my own eyes. Eyes within eyes.
Thud.
The axe slipped from the Saintess's hand and buried itself in the snowdrift. Light snow continued to fall from the sky. Snow settled upon the thousands, tens of thousands of footprints pressed into the snowy ground.
Time flowed.
"I stopped it."
The Saintess expressed it as having 'stopped.'
I suddenly felt an emotion difficult to endure. Both she and I were kin in that we lived within distorted time flow.
Commonly, those who lived in familiar spaces were called locals, and those who lived in unknown spaces were called outsiders. Then what of time? To ordinary people, wouldn't we both be helpless strangers?
Snow fell. I thought of this place as an exile isolated from every world, a penal colony the world had abandoned.
Coincidentally, exile originally derived from homecoming. Returning to one's homeland had somehow become a punishment.
If so, then this gap in the world was our homeland.
"...Very well. The Saintess doesn't desire my death, and I don't desire the Saintess's death. So we can have a conversation."
"I agree."
The distance between us was about 6 meters.
"Then let's first establish each other's demands. I want the Saintess not to suppress my freedom."
"...I feel the same. I want Undertaker not to block my execution."
The Saintess spoke.
"If regression occurs once more and the 108th world begins, Undertaker will surely try to prevent me from becoming 'this way.'"
"...."
"You wouldn't want me to become a murderer. You'd want to always place me in a just and blameless position. But this—delivering pain with my own hands to those who committed sins—is a conclusion I reached myself."
"So you tried to subjugate me?"
"Yes. I planned to confine Undertaker until I found a way to remove only specific memories. The world is wide and there are many Awakened, so surely somewhere there's an ability to control memories. In the worst case, I could rely on Goyori."
Goyori won't work.
"Come to think of it, you mentioned summoning Goyori earlier. Don't tell me that person is coming here?"
"It was a lie."
The Saintess said expressionlessly, as if it were nothing.
"It was also a lie that I summoned other Awakened in the Constellation's name. It was a strategy to induce Undertaker to make a mistake out of urgency. No one is coming here except us two."
"...I see."
Good heavens. It was all bluffing. I really couldn't let my guard down around this person.
I steadied my breath. Then sheathing my sword, I spoke.
"Saintess. I promise that I will never hide from you the fact that you reached the conclusion to punish evildoers yourself—not in the next iteration, nor the one after, no matter how many regressions occur."
"...."
"I promise. So please, Saintess, calm your anxious heart."
"...."
"Even if you burn the world, I am on your side."
Silence flowed.
Each time snowflakes landed on the Saintess's shoulder, a tiny sound like cracking glass—*crick*—rang out. Only the sound of snow falling throughout the world and glass crumbling echoed softly.
"It is grievous."
The Saintess's voice seeped in like shade among the white, transparent sounds.
"That this memory, this conversation, the next iteration's self won't remember at all. That all the memories from 16 years with Undertaker will melt away like snow."
"...I will remember."
"Yes."
The Saintess slowly lowered her eyes.
"That makes it all the more regrettable."
"...."
"I can only feel remorseful. Undertaker must be sadder than I am. But I truly couldn't bear it. That all the events, memories, and the meaning of someone's death might disappear. ...And the fact that all of it must be placed on one person's shoulders."
"It's all right. I can endure it. And the Saintess is with me."
Snow fell.
With a *crick*, the Saintess's lips opened.
"When an Awakened's ability reaches its peak, they become no different from anomalies."
This was the first time in my regressions.
And the first time in human history that the phenomenon of 'corruption' was elucidated through a human's lips.
"Pardon?"
"From some point, I became able to move freely even within a stopped world. I changed so that not just my own voice, but all sounds I remember could be replayed via telepathy."
The Saintess was utterly serious. She assembled her words at a calm pace that my understanding could follow.
"At first, I thought my ability had simply bloomed. It was a natural inference. But as time passed, a different hypothesis, another possibility, lingered in my mind."
"What possibility?"
"The hypothesis that rather than growing, I might be losing myself—the opposite of growth."
The Saintess's eyes narrowed.
"Originally, telepathy transmitted only 'my' voice. But what if I transcend my own body? If I increasingly depart from being human? Then wouldn't I be able to reproduce not just a human voice, but countless sounds?"
"Um... logically, that's possible. But couldn't the phenomenon you describe also be interpreted as your breadth—the expanse of your ego—simply widening?"
"Yes. But the two aren't very different."
The Saintess slightly shook her head.
"...Explaining this feeling to others is extremely difficult. But there are symptoms too distinct to dismiss as mere psychological anxiety."
"Symptoms?"
"Transparent aura."
For some reason, the moment those words flowed from the Saintess's lips, I too was seized by a certain ominousness.
A sensation as if an invisible tongue had licked down my spine from the nape to the pelvis.
The Saintess was looking straight at me.
"The auras Awakened manifest all have their own colors. Undertaker interpreted my aura having no color as 'the aura has a transparent color.'"
"...That's correct."
"But what if it wasn't aura?"
The Saintess murmured. A question she must have pondered countless times in the stopped time.
"Something that produces effects like aura reinforcement, but isn't aura. Undertaker must have witnessed such phenomena countless times."
"An anomaly...?"
"Yes. A monster."
The Ten Tribes don't use aura.
They simply possess bodies that are innately as if reinforced by aura.
My heart pounded. As if matching my pulse, endless *crick*—*crick*—noises rang from the Saintess's entire body.
"I am increasingly being encroached upon by void poison."
"...."
"That's not all."
Snap.
The Saintess flicked her finger.
In that instant, my vision flipped.
"...?"
No, to be precise, it hadn't flipped.
As if experiencing an out-of-body experience—I came to 'look down at' my own flesh.
The first-person perspective had shifted to a third-person perspective.
"Saintess?"
My lips moved. I saw the sight of my lips moving.
It was an exceedingly strange sensation.
I could see my own back. If I did weight training in this state, I could lift with far greater precision. But the third-person world didn't grant only advantages.
"What on earth is this...?"
A sensation of floating.
A person's ego is ultimately attached to the body.
The body is the most direct objectivity. When the body loses its directness and is placed 'alongside' other objects, becoming merely one object among many, a person's ego too loses its anchor and simply drifts upon the waves of an immeasurable sea.
"That is the world I see. Undertaker."
Rustle.
The Saintess approached me, stepping on snow. I was helpless like a newborn infant who hadn't yet learned to control its body.
"In the past, such a view unfolded only when using clairvoyance. But gradually I became accustomed... Now I've reached the point where I can't distinguish between my own perspective and the third-person perspective."
The Saintess held my hand.
The sensation of the hand chilled by snowfall was vividly felt. Yet that sensation felt somehow 'distant.'
Should I describe it as tactile sensation feeling like color? Despite the texture needing to be felt most closely upon my skin, I felt a sense of distance.
As the Saintess said, it was a sensation difficult to explain to others.
It was bizarre.
It was strange.
An anomaly.
"Perhaps I think I've already become about half an anomaly."
"...."
"When Undertaker discovered my secret, I thought it was a grave matter. But thinking about it now, I'm fortunate to have been caught at this point. If a little more time had passed... I would have lost the most important part of myself."
The Saintess whispered before my eyes / murmured from far away.
The Saintess gathered the slight remaining warmth of her body into both hands and wrapped my hands / the Executor posed as if offering a prayer to the heavens.
"If it had reached that point, I might have been able to stop time to prevent Undertaker's regression from triggering. No. Not 'might have'—I'm certain."
"...."
"Losing my color, losing my sight, losing my form, losing even time, becoming something that merely looks down and watches everything. Such an anomaly."
Vapor flowed from the Saintess's lips / a stream of tender human body heat rose in the middle of a world covered in snow.
"Please remember. Undertaker. This fight, this challenge to save the world, is by no means a game with infinite time given. Only the chances to challenge are infinite; once you enter a stage, a 'time limit' is imposed."
"Time limit..."
"That time limit is probably 15 to 20 years. When Awakened go beyond simply becoming familiar with their abilities and reach the point of being consumed by them, they will approach becoming anomalies like me. Do you understand? An Awakened's ability is not purely a blessing. It's a double-edged sword."
*Crack-*
From somewhere, before my eyes, or perhaps from very far away, the sound of glass cracking rang.
Only now did I reach the thought that perhaps it wasn't glass but a membrane. A transparent membrane surrounding the Saintess, the human called Saintess.
"This time, Undertaker focused on my growth, and as a result, I ended up like this the fastest... but I don't know what will happen in other iterations. My intuition tells me that Awakened who possess powerful abilities are more dangerous. For example... Dang Seo-rin of the Three Thousand Worlds wouldn't be an exception either."
"...."
"20 years. If possible, before 15 years approach, you must return the world to its original form. Please remember, Undertaker. The time limit..."
The sound of glass breaking grew increasingly distinct.
I realized the Saintess's intention. That was why I pulled her hand and embraced her back. In third-person perspective, controlling the body was quite difficult, so perhaps I used too much force.
The Saintess's eyes widened.
"...Ah."
"You intended to kill me. So that regression would occur before you completely change. But that is greed to bear the weight alone."
A small breath / laughter was heard.
"Undertaker really does know me well."
"Let's go together."
"...."
"I just didn't mention it, but I've actually become quite skilled at mental management. I've traveled nationwide for an entire iteration, and I even worked as a convenience store owner."
"Convenience store owner?"
"Yes. The Saintess also needs to learn how to let go a little."
I drew aura from my entire body.
The glass membrane that had been cracking began to shatter in earnest. *Crash-* *Crash-*. As my aura enveloped us both, countless bursting sounds echoed.
Snow fell. Glass broke. Even as snow fell and fell again, the two trails of shadows etched on the white snowfield were not buried.
"...Warm."
The Saintess closed her eyes.
"Why... must a person. A person... kill a person, when they're human."
*Crash.*
The world quietly stopped the snow.
That was the Saintess's last words.
8
There is an aftermath.
This aftermath is not a scene limited to any specific iteration.
The 109th, 110th, 111st... It was a scene invariably reproduced in every iteration where I formed a blood alliance with the Saintess.
"Such a thing happened."
"...."
After hearing my entire story, the Saintess quietly propped her chin. Lost in deep thought, she occasionally tilted her head alone this way and that.
"It's my story, yet it doesn't feel like my story."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
The Saintess looked at my face. Her expression was extremely serious.
"To think I wandered outside so diligently—that's unlike me."
"...."
So that was the issue.
The Saintess stood and fed the fish in the aquarium.
The fish she had carefully raised since before the world became this way quickly gathered at their owner's gesture. Red. White. Yellow. Blue. Beings of various colors swam through the water.
"No matter how cornered I felt psychologically, I find it hard to understand punishing evildoers anonymously. The strategy of placing oneself in a godlike position to make people tremble with fear is effective, but that's the thinking of someone who doesn't trust others. If I was diligent enough to wander outside, shouldn't I have rather announced my own existence and abilities to the world and directly established a government?"
"Hmm. Perhaps I wasn't that diligent?"
"Indeed. It's half-hearted. Even though I chose seclusion to avoid being half-hearted."
The Saintess's fingertips gently grazed the water's surface.
For the fish, the boundary of the world, the water's surface forming this world's membrane, was lightly disturbed. The Saintess seemed to enjoy the sensation.
"Above all, the me of the 107th iteration described it as if corruption occurs automatically when an Awakened's ability blooms. But that's a wrong analysis. There's clear counterevidence."
"Counterevidence..."
"Undertaker."
The Saintess said.
"Undertaker has already regressed through countless ages and continued developing abilities. If my theory were correct, Undertaker should have experienced corruption before anyone else. But seeing that no such phenomenon has occurred to Undertaker, corruption is likely nothing more than a psychological problem."
Nothing more than a psychological problem.
The Saintess was still strict with herself.
"But I do understand the meaning of those last words."
"What meaning?"
"That a person kills a person. That they kill even though they're human. That is always a painful truth. And..."
"And?"
"...."
The Saintess quietly looked back.
I blinked my eyes. Like a crab blinking its compound eyes while clicking its pincers in an aquarium.
Just then, a truly rare event occurred.
The Saintess smiled faintly.
"It's a secret."
- The One Who Was a Watcher. End.
A infinite regressor telling stories.