Chapter 113

The four years Edwin lived with his uncle Harold Bertholdt were an ordeal.

Edwin couldn't lie about it. That stretch of his life had been brutal. He'd rather have been a baby again. At least then he'd had the certainty that his body was growing, that if he just held out, things would get better — but this...

"You know, Edwin."

Edgar said it gloomily. For Edwin, who remembered the earlier Edgar — the one who couldn't sit still, who used to laugh so brightly — it was torment.

Edgar didn't smile the way he used to anymore. Edwin wasn't sure Edgar even remembered how. Nor did he know how to get Edgar smiling again.

Would Albrecht have known?

"Edwin, the Duke of Lambert..."

Edgar stopped. His eyes went blank. He didn't smile the way he had as a small child, and the blue eyes had forgotten how to sparkle innocently.

After Albrecht died, Edwin was lost. That stupid mobile game had never breathed a word about anything like this. Well, of course. The game was still set decades ahead of where he was now.

Edgar fidgeted and avoided Edwin's eyes for a long while before he finally got it out:

"...Never mind, Edwin. You don't have to worry about it."

That kind of answer only put Edwin more on edge.

Depression must be a family trait or something.

Had it been the Barbosa family too? If he remembered right, Albrecht's depression had come from his wife's disappearance.

...Even without any genetic issue, this wasn't something a small child could bear.

Right. His mother had gone missing and his father had died. That alone was more than enough to leave massive childhood trauma, and on top of that — the butler's abuse and their uncle's death.

Edwin had to admit Edgar was holding up well.

That was exactly why their uncle had been a disaster. Because their uncle had made Edgar happy. For a child who'd only just started to recover, losing that pillar had to have been the final blow.

If only their uncle had never come. If only...

Edwin apologized to his uncle.

The man had done nothing wrong. If Harold had committed any sin, it was giving up everything for his nephews. If you could even call that a sin.

Still, it would have been better if he'd lived. Harold's real crime was dying early. Leaving his young nephews behind. Just like Albrecht, who had died leaving his young sons behind.

"Listen, Edgar."

When Harold had cut through the winter snow to rescue Edwin and Edgar, Edgar hadn't been in his right mind. Edwin had been terrified it was permanent damage from the fever and trauma. No child should have to break under that kind of pain.

Edwin wasn't a psychiatrist. But he was Edgar's family — and so was Harold, who'd suddenly found himself looking after his nephews.

Was patience a knight's virtue?

Edgar recovered. At last he could look at Harold without flinching, could smile, could get up to mischief with Edwin the way they used to.

"Edgar."

Their uncle's death had pushed Edgar back into the mire.

"..."

Whether he hadn't heard Edwin calling or was hearing it and ignoring it, Edgar didn't budge — he only turned when Edwin caught hold of his arm.

Still, the blue eyes he'd inherited from Albrecht hadn't changed. Tense as he was, when their eyes met he couldn't help giving Edwin a faint smile.

Edgar took Edwin's hand.

"Edwin, don't worry."

The very source of Edwin's biggest worry was the one saying it.

"I'll protect you."

Being "protected" by a twelve-year-old only made him feel worse about himself. But Edwin said nothing. He just gave Edgar a broad smile, the way he used to. The way Edgar himself used to.

Even if Edgar didn't remember, it was thanks to that very smile that Edwin had decided to put down roots in this world. Edgar's smile.

"I... I can do it. I'm going to keep you safe. As long as you're here, I'm okay."

What did Edgar need right now?

He wanted to just wrap Edgar in his arms and take a nap like they used to. Well-fed on sweets and fast asleep, Edgar had been the happiest baby in the world.

Ah.

Edwin blinked slowly.

Thoughts he couldn't quite put into words filled his mouth, then scattered.

If Edgar found a goal, that alone would be a relief. Back when the boy had been afraid even to leave his room, there'd been a day Edwin had promised him: as long as he stopped crawling under the bed to hide from the sunlight, he could do whatever else he wanted.

If Edgar went running toward something dangerous, Edwin could stop him himself. Grisha Lambert was more than enough of a shield for Edgar too.

Edwin looked around the Lambert estate — the new home they'd moved into after their uncle's funeral. Grisha Lambert wouldn't mind being Edgar's goal.

"All right, Edgar."

Edwin smiled, imitating the way little Edgar used to.

With no idea what that smile actually meant, Edgar relaxed and gave a faint smile.

---

Fifteen years after the Great Mana Surge.

The former capital of the Kingdom of Alharn. Explorers' Camp 2, near the collapsed royal palace.

At last, standing here, Edwin looked back on the end of the world.

"You're really going in?"

"Yes."

"All the way to the first floor?"

"Probably."

One of the explorers had struck up a conversation. Edwin's replies were curt, but the explorer, apparently taking any reply at all as encouragement, wouldn't leave.

Leaving the explorer chattering on alone, Edwin looked up at the sky. Over the capital, epicenter of the surge, green waves rippled across the sky every so often, as if it were covered by an aurora. Mana.

Mana was an easily corrupted form of energy.

Any use of the mana in the atmosphere tainted it. Tainted mana wasn't harmful in itself. It simply grew heavier than air, and once it touched ground, it quickly dissolved.

Magic existed in this world. The Eshan Empire, which had fallen a thousand years ago, had been built on magic, and even after the empire was gone, countless mages had shown off their powers.

But magic, once called a miracle-working power, had gradually fallen out of use. Magic no longer produced miracles — at best it had become a curious relic that only historians dug into. Occasionally wealthy eccentrics, looking for exotic toys, would fund magic research institutes.

No one had predicted that the mana dissolved into the earth would one day destroy the world.

"Of course, we all know how capable you are, Sir Edwin, but... how about at least wearing a mana filter?"

"No. This is enough."

Edwin brushed off every attempt. They had to know what he'd been doing for the past ten years, and still they wouldn't give up — it was almost funny.

Edwin had absolutely no intention of putting one of those damn mana filters on his body.

A mana filter would make adapting to this world easier. But it wouldn't let you stay human. Edwin still had things he had to do as a human. If everything went to plan, he wouldn't have to look at one of those filters again.

"Who was the last one to see him?"

"That was me!"

A young woman raised her hand from the corner of the camp. Sparkling jewels ran the length of her arm, embedded in the skin. Mana filters.

Half of the filters, which should have shone in all five colors, had gone dead black. Edwin gave her a light nod in greeting.

"Fifth floor?"

"Yes. My filter burned out and I couldn't push any deeper. I thought I'd come up empty this time, but luckily he came out to me."

The woman grinned fiercely and hefted the sword propped up beside her.

"Got a great enhancement out of it, too! Ah, Mr. Bertholdt really is on another level. Now that the Spirit of Mana himself blessed it, I feel a lot more secure. It hasn't quite fit my hand yet, so I've got to break it in a bit, but I should be back out on the border soon."

She was reeling off things he hadn't asked about. Edwin tuned out the rest and checked the map.

Over the past ten years, the map had come close to completion. As for the parts still missing... never mind.

Edwin took his eyes off the map and lifted his head. Almost nothing of the city where he'd been born and raised was still recognizable.

The former capital of the Kingdom of Alharn.

This was where the world had ended. Fifteen years ago.

Edwin still didn't know what had caused it. All he knew was that the mana that had seeped into the earth had exploded.

Had tainted mana only been in Alharn? The explosion that had wiped the Alharn capital off the map was just the beginning. Collapses had struck all across the continent. The natural disasters that followed had also come from mana.

The world had died slowly, through one disaster after another. Because life hadn't been cut off in a single stroke, those who survived found ways to keep going somehow. The mana filters embedded in their skin were one of them.

Everything was broken, but somehow, a thin thread of breath still ran through it. The world wasn't going to get any better — but it wasn't going to die tomorrow either.

And this was how it would stay. Come on — that's how these things go. That's how a live-service mobile game works. Familiar setups get roughly stitched together. Cataclysm ends the world, heroes are born. The player takes those heroes and works through all sorts of challenges. But the underlying problem never gets solved. Nor does the world visibly improve.

That was how this world kept going.

"H-hey! Sir Edwin!"

"Please, be careful!"

"Just in case — a mana filter—"

Ignoring the people trailing after him, Edwin headed toward the collapsed palace. The preparations were done.

The source of the explosion had been the palace.

And yet for the epicenter of it all, the palace had held its shape reasonably well. Even if it had sunk clean into the ground.

Edwin stood at the edge and looked down at the palace. The tip of a spire that had somehow escaped collapse just barely poked up above ground.

Was there a "player" out there somewhere?

He didn't know. And whether such a person existed or not, Edwin didn't much care. That was their problem; Edwin was living in this world. He had reasons to keep living.

This wasn't a game. He'd realized that in his bones the day Albrecht Bertholdt died. In that moment — in a cold, unheated room, checking on his twin burning with a terrifying fever, worrying what he'd do if he never opened his eyes again.

So he'd made it through the mana surge that ended the world, and through the twenty years since, one way or another.

Ten years ago, a rumor had gone around that a Spirit of Mana was appearing in the sunken palace.

The spirit blessed the weapons of adventurers who visited the palace. The form the blessing took was something of a lottery, but most people came away with some kind of new "power."

Edwin knew the system. Back when he'd been playing the game, he'd used it himself.

And now? The moment Edwin heard that the Spirit of Mana went by the name "Bertholdt," he was out of choices.

Feeling every eye on him, Edwin stepped out into empty air.

"Ah—!"

Rough breathing and running footsteps came from behind. Even though they all knew the Mage of the New Dawn wasn't going to hurt himself falling off a cliff.

Edwin picked a likely window and slipped into the palace.

He had to meet the Spirit of Mana. If his hunch was right, that spirit was...