This Time's Lesson

Deep blue.

““............””

Darakerus and Fret lay on their backs on the small meadow, scorched in the fighting, gazing up at the cloudless early summer sky.

The wind was a pleasant breeze, and the sunlight pouring down was toasty warm......

But it wasn't as if the two of them were having a friendly sunbathe.

They were simply so exhausted that they lacked the will to move.

“............”

Then, over the course of about 10 minutes.

Having finally scraped together just enough energy to get up, Fret sat up in silence, nudged his glasses up with a fingertip, the frame all bent and the lenses cracked...... and looked at the hideout, at Hidden Inheritor.

Still throwing off little sparks and trailing thin wisps of black smoke, it was now, whatever anyone might say, “wreckage.”

First of all, the part of the hideout that had stretched upward like a mushroom had been completely blown away and was gone.

It had vanished in the explosion caused by Fret shooting through the magic power reservoir.

By rights, Fret and the others could easily have been caught in that explosion and died, too.

Cornered and pushed to the limit or not, that had been quite a reckless thing to do.

As for why they were still alive, it was thanks to Emi.

In the few seconds between Fret's bullet destroying the magic power reservoir and the magic power running wild and exploding...... Emi had wrapped those eerie, pitch-black giant arms of hers, stretched from her shoulders, round and round Hidden Inheritor, and made a wall.

Thanks to that, the blast and flames did not burn Fret and the others, but instead shot high into the sky.

The force of it was tremendous: that hideout, as cute as something out of a fairy tale, had been wiped out entirely.

Meanwhile, the part that had crawled out from underground like a cicada nymph had barely kept some of its shape.

Only to a degree, mind you.

It was charred black all over, and more than half of it had been blown away...... at this rate, the magic tools hidden inside, the blueprints and the rest of Gyashikinu's legacy...... must have burned up completely.

Obtaining the legacy, returning to Zenalini in triumph, regaining his position as the heir, getting back at his brother, and heading toward a glorious future......

Now, having calmed down a bit...... he could see it.

It was a picture of the future with no substance, one that would blow away in the wind.

How, on that day...... the day he was removed as heir to the Full Trading Company, he could have stormed out of the house with this picture of the future in hand...... he had no idea at all.

Fret was now calm enough, at least, to see it that way.

It felt as if the “haze” that had nested in his head for years had cleared, and his thoughts had become truly lucid.

Still, well.

Lacking in substance or not, it had been the mental pillar that kept him going these past few days.

And now, it had completely burned out, turning into soot.

Fret was at a loss and quietly clutched his head.

“......So, what now, from here?”

Then a voice reached him from behind, one that sounded bone-tired...... truly worn out, and Fret slowly turned around.

It was Darakerus's voice.

Darakerus apparently still lacked the will to stand up, and was lying on his back in the grass, blankly staring up at the blue sky.

“That explosion, just now...... it was probably observed, even from Zenalini, so......”

“Give it a few days, and scout-type adventurers lookin' for pocket money, like me, are gonna take a situation-check request and come pokin' around.”

“Exactly...... so I, will seek protection, from those people......”

“Stuuupid.”

“Wha......”

A sudden insult!

Fret flushed red and was about to yell back with 10 times the vocabulary, but his mouth wouldn't move.

It was because he was tired.

“Before that, those guys are gonna move.”

Before Fret could respond, Darakerus finally sat up and shifted his gaze toward the black-suits who were still stuck headfirst in the ground like idiots...... the members of the Dongozugozu Society.

They hadn't moved a muscle, but he didn't think they were dead.

The inhabitants of this world were, for the most part, sturdy.

“So, what of it......”

“This time around, those guys gettin' stuck in the ground was pretty much their own doin'.”

“Exactly.”

“But that, their higher-ups ain't gonna swallow......”

“Haah!?”

“If they don't make someone the bad guy and make 'em pay, they won't be able to stomach it.”

Having lived at the bottom of society and watched underground organizations at work from a distance, Darakerus understood.

The Dongozugozu Society, which held violence as the supreme value, especially hated defeat and failure.

Because they didn't want to be looked down upon.

And by the logic of ‘as long as you win in the end’, they would go for revenge, without fail.

Whether the target of that retaliation was actually the person who deserved it didn't matter.

They would retaliate, it would succeed, and the organization's face would be saved.

Appearances would be kept up.

That was what those people cared about most.

“Then, who gets to be the bad guy......? You get it, right?”

The people involved in this incident.

In other words, the survivors, Darakerus and Fret.

Fret was lost for words, his mouth flapping open and shut.

Incidentally, once Emi had held back the explosion and made sure Darakerus and Fret were safe, she had gone off somewhere without a word.

With the hideout destroyed, that superhuman girl probably had no reason to stay here anymore.

She probably wouldn't come back.

“Is running away, our only choice......”

“Yeah, that's right. I'm a ‘pro at running away’, always running, every time. I've lived a life of nothin' but runnin'. That's exactly why I can feel it in my bones. Right now, is the perfect moment to run. No doubt about it!”

“What is that, that pathetic certainty, backed by pathetic confidence!?”

Even as he shot back, Fret understood how important Darakerus's words were.

Staggering to his feet, he looked at the black-suits stuck in the ground in such an idiotic fashion.

True enough, now, with Badengaju and the rest unconscious...... it would be easy to fake their deaths and slip away.

It might be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

......Fake their deaths?

That meant throwing everything away.

So for just a moment, Fret hesitated, but......

He looked again at the charred Hidden Inheritor throwing off sparks...... at the picture of the future turned to soot, shook his head, and tossed that hesitation aside at once.

Because he had nothing left to lose.

The picture of the future was gone.

And he absolutely did not want to return to the trading company that was now becoming his brother's.

If so...... running away was the only way.

“......Then, I'll ask the ‘pro at running away’...... you wretch...... you, where do you plan to run......?”

His mind made up, Fret put that question to Darakerus, who was laboriously getting up.

Darakerus turned those sleepy, listless eyes of his straight on Fret...... and said.

“......Dunno.”

“Haah!?”

“'Cause I don't really remember maps and stuff......”

“Quit screwing around, some ‘pro at running away’ you are!?”

Fret furrowed his brow and clawed his slicked-back hair into a mess, thinking at top speed!

“Then...... south!! We head for the Karanzamumu Territory!! It's a bit of a distance, but the Holy Maiden Consortium's branch there is powerful!! Underground organizations can't do as they please!! What's more, the entry tax can be paid later!! Even penniless, we won't be turned away at the gate!! They're fairly generous with welfare, too, so it's easier to get set up for a comeback!!”

“Ooooh.”

“Don't ‘Ooooh’ me!! You, use your head a little!!”

Darakerus was honestly impressed and gave him a round of applause; Fret, face flushing red, yelled at him, then turned on his heel and started walking.

Toward the future!

“......Hey, that way's north.”

“............”

But it was completely the wrong direction......!

Fret stopped in his tracks in silence, his face turning red once again.

“Look at the shadows. 'Round about this time of day, the way they stretch, is north.”

Darakerus was a bottom-rung adventurer.

He didn't have a watch or a compass.

But, precisely because he didn't have them, he had naturally built up a fairly accurate internal clock, and the know-how to survive.

“......That's right!! Faking our deaths!! I almost forgot!!”

Fret raised his voice as if to hide his embarrassment and took off his jacket.

Then he...... pressed it against the sparks flying from Hidden Inheritor.

The jacket began to smolder, sending up smoke, and caught fire.

Once it was nicely charred, Fret waved it around to put out the fire, then hooked it on a clump of grass so the wind wouldn't carry it off.

“Ohhh.”

Darakerus let out a dopey noise of admiration and followed suit.

After a few more touches to fake their deaths, they were finally, truly ready to set off...... and at that moment.

Darakerus and Fret faced each other in silence.

......Probably, both of them wanted to say the same thing.

But, alas, Darakerus had always lived alone.

That was exactly why, at a time like this, however simple it might be...... he didn't know how, to get the words out.

Because he didn't know, he had always been alone.

So it was Fret who said the words that were needed.

“Hey, Darakerus...... let's go, together!! I need, your strength...... though whether it'll go well, I can't say!!”

Red-faced, brow furrowed...... Fret rattled that off at top speed and held out his right hand.

The old Fret wouldn't have thought twice about talking Darakerus into heading for Zenalini and using him as a decoy.

But the “haze” in his thoughts had cleared, and, just a little...... he had become more honest.

He had become able to admit the things he lacked.

“............”

Darakerus stared hard at that right hand, and then.

He too...... went to hold out his own right hand.

Noticed it was pretty filthy.

Gave it a good scrub on his clothes, and then.

Gripped Fret's right hand tight in his own, and grinned.

“......Eh, it'll work out somehow.”

And so.

Two men different in personality, ability and taste...... who had been at odds from the start, joined hands, and the plunge of their lives toward ruin came to a stop.

They had begun to carve out a path to a future even the gods could not read, however slender!

“Seriously, man.”

Having finished the handshake, Darakerus scratched his messy hair and gave a wry smile.

“If we'd just done this from the start...... we'd have gotten that hideout too, huh.”

“......Don't say it!! It makes it all feel pointless......!!”

Fret furrowed his brow and clutched his forehead.

Byuu, a north wind blew, cold for early summer.

And yet that wind gave their backs a strong push!

【Holy Maiden Consortium】

Since there has been no description of the organization yet, I won't go into detail, but anyway, it's an organization concerned with ‘Saintesses’.

They classify the abilities of Saintesses, grade them, and officially certify them.

Apparently they were at odds with him (her?), enough to be suspected of masterminding the Great Mage Majurog's ‘murder’.

The one person clearly established so far as connected to it is Ad Bahns, who appeared in Arc 22.

【End-of-Arc Greetings】

Words of thanks for all of you readers who keep sticking with this clumsy amateur novel.

Thank you truly, as always.

The theme of this arc is ‘Fighting is pointless, isn't it’.

Quite cliché, isn't it!

If Darakerus, Fret, and Emi had compromised instead of being stubborn, they could have obtained the hideout.

And yet, because all three tried to hog it for themselves, Gyashikinu's legacy has been lost forever......

Pointless, huh!

But all three of them will probably go on living as they please, squabbling now and then as it suits them!

Emi in particular will keep moving forward, getting dragged into conflicts big and small, or stirring them up herself.

There will be comedies and tragedies.

I would be happy if you continue to stay with us.

I designed this arc to be short from the start, and it really did end up short, but it took an awfully long time to put out.

‘The Omake Reincarnator’ is also this author's practice piece for learning to make stories, and so it is written with a ‘Let's try anything!’ attitude.

That practice piece has gotten so long that lately an ominous thought has started crossing my mind, “Can this author even finish this while still healthy?” but, well, let's set that aside.

Anyway, that's why you get stories like this arc, where Emi stays fairly in the background, and when that happens, it's really hard to write......

Since Emi was designed as a character who is “simply easy for me to write,” that's only natural.

I feel my lack of skill keenly!

Or rather, has my skill not grown at all?

Sad, huh!

......I've rambled on about things that don't matter, but anyway, with this, Arc 30 is complete!

The next arc properly stars Emi.

I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you very much.