Wortenia Senki (LN) - Volume 2 - Chapter Pr

Prologue 

A single man walked through the pleasure quarter in the northern districts of the imperial capital, clad in a hood and mantle and mingling with the darkness of the night, trying to avoid attention. The cries of the drunkards and the coquettish voices of the barmaids echoed distantly in his ears. He hurried to his destination, the unpleasant scent of alcohol mixed with smoke invading his nostrils. 

He’d already given his report to his official superior— the Emperor— but right now he was about to report to his other, behind-the-scenes superior. 

While Shardina was delivering the account of what happened to the Emperor, Saitou had simply kneeled with a grave expression, but this more shadowy superior would require him to make a more detailed explanation of what happened. 

The Organization. Such a gathering of people existed on this Earth, and its members simply referred to it as such. A place which those plucked away from their home world and thrown into this one could congregate in. And, at the same time, where those burning with endless hatred and loathing resided. 

“Heh... What a vexing matter.” Imagining the face of his superior made a leaden sigh escape Saitou’s lips. 

Saitou’s behind-the-scenes superior, Akitake Sudou, was by no means the kind of man who didn’t take circumstances into consideration, nor did he have the kind of personality that made him hard to get along with. In fact, considering it was Sudou who granted Saitou a place in the Organization, the man was effectively the savior of his life. If one were to look past the fact that he was something of a cynic who took a bit of pleasure in teasing other people, Sudou was an ideal employer. 

But the one thing he wasn’t was a soft person. 

If one were to consider the recent incident from the perspective of Saitou’s position as the vice-captain of the Succubus Knights, this whole affair was far from a failure. True, the fact that Ryoma Mikoshiba had slipped through their fingers after he had briefly been in their grasp was a strike against him, but the chances of catching him in the first place were already slim, and Shardina had to assume all responsibility for the matter as captain. 

In fact, after the audience, the Emperor personally gave Saitou a few words of encouragement. He’d more than just fulfilled his role as the vice-captain of the Succubus Knights which supported the empire, and as Shardina’s right hand man. 

But from the perspective of whether he succeeded here as a member of the Organization, the outlook was a touch more dubious. Part of the mission appointed to Saitou was to advance Shardina’s political standing. 

After receiving permission to come in, Saitou opened the door and was greeted with the sight of Sudou sitting on the room’s sofa, enjoying a meal and a bottle of wine sitting on the table. 

“I hear things have been quite hectic for you. My, you’ve worked hard indeed, have you not?” 

Having been greeted in a teasing, superficial fashion, Saitou’s expression stiffened. There was a lot he wanted to say, but no matter how much of a mean-spirited, twisted person the man sitting before him was, he was still his superior. 

Saitou moved to sit down on the opposite sofa without asking for permission, aware of how impolite that was. Such was his silent form of protest. Watching Saitou’s expression with amusement, Sudou poured some wine into the glass in front of him. 

“My, this is something of a surprise... From your expression, I assume Mr. Mikoshiba’s escape from Princess Shardina’s grasp wasn’t a result of your scheming. And here I was convinced you purposely gave him an opening...” 

Sudou’s gaze suddenly took on a sharpness that could seemingly cut through everything, and Saitou felt a chill slithering down his spine. 

“Are you implying I allowed my personal feelings to mingle with my responsibility?” Saitou nearly stood up, the words he feared hearing the most reaching his ears. 

If Sudou were to answer this question in the affirmative, it would spell a death sentence for Saitou. The Organization was fundamentally intolerant of failures, and if one’s actions were perceived as trying to deliberately hinder the mission, it would result in instant execution. That was an obvious form of self-defense for an illegal organization. 

The Organization had ordered Saitou to aid Shardina, or to be more exact, to help her gain merit and increase her influence in the court; in that regard, this turn of events was a particularly painful blow for the organization. 

True, the Emperor had covered for his beloved daughter Shardina and granted her a chance at conquering Xarooda, but there was no avoiding the fact that some nobles would likely go on to doubt her capabilities. Shardina’s influence had been reduced somewhat, and that was an irrefutable truth. 

However, he had won Shardina’s deep trust in numerous ways; the fact that he was able to quickly set up the blockade by the border and lead Ryoma Mikoshiba into the forest as she had planned, the fact that he advised her to slay Ryoma upon his capture despite his understanding of the Emperor’s wishes, and most of all, throwing himself onto Shardina to protect her when the wind generated by the verbal thaumaturgy spell swept through the camp. 

If the Organization were to kill Saitou now, they would have to send someone else to serve under Shardina, but that hypothetical replacement would take a considerable amount of time to build up the degree of trust Saitou had earned. Ergo, it wasn’t profitable for them to kill Saitou now. 

But that all hinged on the Organization’s understanding that Saitou put his all into capturing Ryoma Mikoshiba. Saitou was both an operative and a spy for the Organization, and as such, allowing his personal emotions to influence his mission was unforgivable. 

In the end, whether the Organization recognized that this chain of events was beyond Saitou’s control depended on Sudou’s opinion. It was only natural, then, that he would go pale upon hearing Sudou’s words. 

But Saitou’s cautious expression merely made Sudou raise his voice in pleasant laughter, without a sliver of the sharp look he’d had before. 

“Well, perhaps I’ve threatened you a bit too hard... Come now, no need to be so nervous. If I were seriously intent on disposing of you, you’d have bid this mortal coil farewell a long time ago.” 

Their gazes remained locked together for a single, interminable moment. 

“Yes... I suppose that’s true.” Saitou said, evidently convinced. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, he sat back down on the sofa. 

What a terrifying man... He knew everything about the situation before I even reported it to him. 

He realized Sudou’s words were said in jest, but that also meant his power and influence extended far and deep into the Empire. Yes, deep enough to know even the most minute details of one of the Emperor’s meetings. 

Saitou’s throat was dry from the suspense, and he felt an innate need to quench his thirst. He took the glass sitting in front of him and downed it in one gulp; the sour flavor of red wine, matured and ripened by years of storage, filled his mouth. He would have liked to linger on its taste a bit longer, but right now it was nothing more than liquid to erase the dryness from his throat. 

Seeing Saitou’s face contort as he gulped the wine down, Sudou’s smile deepened as he handed him a glass of water. 

“Well, while it’s certain that Princess Shardina’s influence took a blow as a result of recent events, her trust in you has increased just the same. The murder of the court thaumaturgist, Gaius Valkland, was not something we planned for, but it has merely moved things slightly ahead of schedule... Unfortunate as it may be for those who wished to slay Gaius themselves.” 

“Which is to say?” 

“Well, I do not find much fault in your judgment during this incident, Saitou, and I intend to say as much in our planned meeting two weeks from now... Oh, yes, since I’ve gone to the trouble of having this meal prepared, feel free to help yourself.” 

Relieved by those words, Saitou reached for the dishes set in front of him. 

“But to think there’s a man who could take one such as you by surprise... That Mikoshiba fellow is quite impressive, given his youth.” 

“Yes... Though I would not say he is strong, so much as I would say he is terrifying.” 

“Terrifying?” 

Feeling Sudou’s probing gaze on him, Saitou stopped moving the spoon in his hand. 

“Yes. I find his ruthlessness and adaptability to be rather frightening, if I am to be honest.” 

Were things to come down to simply arm strength and agility, Saitou would surely overwhelm Ryoma Mikoshiba. Having lived in this world for nearly eight years and fought through countless battles, Saitou had developed one of the skills unique to this world, martial thaumaturgy, allowing him to exhibit a strength exceeding what human muscles could normally produce. If Saitou and Ryoma were to clash, Saitou would, objectively speaking, no doubt be the stronger of the two. 

But in a battle to the death... Well, I’ve slipped through many of those in the past. I have confidence I won’t lose to some brat, but he... 

What made Ryoma Mikoshiba so frightening was not his physical strength or his transcendent martial arts skills, but rather, the way his method of thinking wasn’t bound by common sense, and how ruthless he could be against his enemy. 

That was a strength Saitou sought; a strength he had lacked in his younger days. 

“I see... the strength of his heart.” Sudou seemed to have picked up on everything from the look on Saitou’s face. “But if that’s the case, it makes his talent all the more outstanding. To say one’s potential is ominous truly must mean people like him.” 

“Which is to say?” 

Gazing at Saitou’s doubtful, questioning face, Sudou smiled like a mischievous prankster. 

“You’ve spoken to him yourself, Saitou. How old would you say our young Mr. Mikoshiba is?” 

Regarding the unexpected question doubtfully, Saitou gave his honest impression. 

“Yes, let’s see... Well, I’d assume he’s the same age as me, or a bit younger, perhaps?” 

“Hmm, hmm. So, in his mid twenties or so... Yes, I see, I see.” 

That was a reasonable assessment. Had anyone else asked the question, Sudou and Saitou would have answered the same way. Assuming, of course, they didn’t know the answer ahead of time... 

“Apparently, he is actually sixteen years old.” 

Sudou’s words rang decidedly loud in Saitou’s ears, but he couldn’t quite understand them. Or perhaps it would be more apt to say, he didn’t want to believe them. 

“What?” 

Glancing at Saitou’s face, Sudou tilted the glass in his hand. He likely felt the same way as Saitou deep down. 

“I refer to Mr. Mikoshiba’s age, of course.” 

“It can’t be... Are you sure that’s true?” 

“I confirmed the documents he submitted when he registered at the capital’s guild. There’s no mistaking it.” 

Those words made Saitou fall silent. 

Sixteen? I suppose I could believe if you’d tell me he was a teen who just happens to look a bit older... But sixteen? No, wait. He did mention he was a high-schooler back then... 

It was certainly possible for a person to fake how old they looked, the countenance they had, and the impression they left. Makeup and one’s attire could greatly influence how old they looked. Depending on the circumstances, a sixteen-year-old could be made up to appear thirty years old, and vice versa. 

Things were so hectic in that moment, and it had been pushed to the back of his mind after having to deal with the aftermath of the incident and returning to the capital, but those words clicked with what Saitou had now remembered. 

“Come to think of it, he did say something about that... But if that’s true... He truly is a monster.” Saitou said, verbalizing the terror surging up in his heart. 

If that’s true, just what kind of life did he lead in Japan? This can’t be chalked up to just his personality or talent... It’s like he had always been ready for the moment he’d be summoned. 

Compared to how Saitou was in his high school days, Ryoma Mikoshiba was far too unusual of a person. 

A long, long silence fell over the room. Saitou stared intently at Sudou, who sat silently, deep in thought. 

“Very well... Considering what went down, there’s quite a bit to mull over, but in the end, we’ll have to take a ‘wait and see’ approach with Mr. Mikoshiba.” 

“Meaning?” 

“Well, toying with him needlessly could very well end badly. I would have considered having the Hunting Dogs dispose of him if the situation permitted, but given how much awe he struck into you, I’ll inform the Organization that he is not to be approached carelessly... Your words have forced me to slightly reconsider things.” 

The Hunting Dogs... The Organization’s elite force. He’d even considered sending out those monsters that surpass Rank S... 

The level of force felt almost too excessive, considering it was all for the aim of killing one summoned boy. Sudou feigned composure, but it seemed the Organization saw this matter as one of vital importance. 

Well, given how well the plan is progressing, it makes sense they’d want to eliminate any uncertain factors... But going that far? 

Judging from Sudou’s words, the plan seemed to have changed. 

“Whatever the case, now that he’s escaped the empire, the first thing he would do is seek a method to return to our world.” 

Saitou nodded silently at Sudou’s words. Returning to their home, Earth, was the greatest dream of every member of the Organization. But they called it a dream because they knew it could never be... That was a truth Saitou and Sudou were all too bitterly aware of. 

“Despair will soon descend upon our Mr. Mikoshiba, and once that happens, he will come to a parting of the ways. We can decide on how to handle him, depending on the choice he will make. I have no desire to needlessly antagonize such a promising, prospective young man, after all.” 

“You’re considering recruiting him?” 

“It’s hard to say at this point. It all depends on our good Mr. Mikoshiba, I suppose...” Sudou regarded his subordinate’s question with a smirk before changing the topic. “Well, leaving our young friend aside, let us discuss what comes next for us, shall we?” 

“We’re moving away from the capital?” 

“Yes, just as you’ve surmised. His Grace the Emperor himself has ordered us to expedite work on what Gaius was working on in preparation for the invasion of the Kingdom of Xarooda.” 

“So you’re driving a wedge into the kingdom of Rhoadseria...” Saitou said, his expression changing at those words. 

“Yes, and as such I’ll be away from the capital for a while. I’m actually quite looking forward to working on-site for once.” Sudou said, and raised his voice in jovial laughter.

Three travelers moved through the Dosh Desert, dirtied by its warm, billowing yellow sands. They were currently in the Kingdom of Helnesgoula, ruler of the north of the western continent. The Dosh Desert lay at its center, a land of sands and winds covering a tenth of the country’s surface. However, it was far from an infertile land where no vegetation grew, thanks to its countless oases and the Avul river that cut through the southern mountain range and flowed into the sea. 

If nothing else, the land around those oases and the river allowed for the prosperous raising of crops and stock farming. And in addition, since trying to circumvent it only increased the journey by far too many needless days, a trade route was built across the desert. Cities were built around the oases dotting the land for the sake of the merchants, which flourished as relay points for trade. 

Still, it was by no means a safe land. The cloaks the three travelers wore made it clear their journey was not an easy one. 

“It should be right past that dune.” Laura pointed to the dune towering ahead of them, while shielding her eyes from the sunlight. 

Beyond that dune was an oasis, and the city built around it was their destination. The town of Mireish, a local center of commerce and trade. 

Using the trade through the Avul river, Mireish, which had deep connections with the cities sitting on the river’s mouth, boasted a prominent size even within the Kingdom of Helnesgoula. People naturally gathered where goods would gather; and where people gathered, information was abundant. 

“Will she really be there? That woman...” 

Removing the hood that shielded his eyes from the blowing sand, a virile man scoured the sky spreading out over the desert. His eyes were filled with a tragic light, borne of deep despair mixed with a flicker of hope. 

His name was Ryoma Mikoshiba. 

An unfortunate young man, plucked out of his ordinary life in Japan at the hands of the late court thaumaturgist Gaius Valkland of the Empire of O’ltormea, and summoned into this other world full of chaos. 

“I’ll spare your time and cut to the chase. Sad as I am to say it, returning you to your old world is essentially impossible.” 

The dim room was full of tomes covered in yellowing bindings. It was the very image of a scholar’s room. Ryoma stood in front of the desk, as there was no place to sit with how crammed with books the room was; he looked at the room’s owner with a clinging, pleading gaze as she mercilessly cut down his expectations. 

The mistress of this room filled with moldy, somehow moist air was a woman clad from head to foot in linen. She looked to be in her mid thirties or forties, and her appearance seemed unremarkable overall. The same held true for her attire, which was the sort of plain outfit worn by commoners. If one had to point out anything remarkable about her, it was that her black, sleek hair was a bit conspicuous. 

She looked to be a common individual, the type one could encounter anywhere. But this woman’s true value lay in something one wouldn’t be able to judge from her seedy appearance. Her true value lay in her intellect, in her vast knowledge that made her among the most knowledgeable ones in the continent when it came to thaumaturgy. That was what decided her value, and the reason Ryoma crossed a perilous desert to arrive in Mireish. To meet Annamaria, the woman known as “Mireish’s Recluse,” and find a way back home... 

“Do you mean it’s impossible with the current techniques?” A hint of mocking glinted in Ryoma’s eyes. 

In the two months since he had escaped Shardina’s pursuit, Ryoma went in all directions, seeking out famed thaumaturgists. Annamaria’s words were the same ones spoken by the many thaumaturgists he’d spoken to up until now. 

The same from her, too... Shit. 

Ryoma clicked his tongue, annoyed by his efforts once again coming up in vain. But what the woman said next exceeded Ryoma’s expectations. 

“No, it’s not because I have no technique to send someone back. It’s because a technique to send someone back simply cannot be produced.” 

“What?!” These unexpected words made Ryoma raise his voice in anger. 

It was a countenance of wrath that the Malfist sisters hadn’t seen on Ryoma’s face in the two months he’d traveled with them. For two months, the three of them ignored all guild-related work, traveling in search of thaumaturgists who might have a way to send him back to his Earth. 

Of course, having killed Gaius and been driven out of the empire of O’ltormea, Ryoma couldn’t visit any thaumaturgists in the empire’s sphere of influence, so he put them aside... And so they went from place to place, but whoever they visited, they always gave the same answer. 

There was no way back. 

But they also said that the technique simply hadn’t been developed yet. Which prompted Ryoma to ask them, “Can you develop that technique?” But their answer was unanimous. “It is impossible for me.” 

Very few verbal thaumaturgists were capable of making use of the technique to summon someone from another world, which was a guarded, secret art. Its existence may have been well known, but very few could actually make use of the technique, and Ryoma was asking them to reverse engineer the craft and form an entirely new one. Anyone would naturally hesitate. 

He’d heard that same answer repeated more times than he could count already. Some of those he asked named a few people who might be capable of creating a new technique, and one of them was the woman before him, Annamaria. 

If a technique to take him home didn’t exist, it only needed to be made. That was what Ryoma simply thought. And he was aware that it was far more easily said than done. He was prepared for the process to take years and require vast resources. But if the technique simply could not be produced, that would be entirely different. 

His escaping from Shardina’s clutches and traveling from place to place, evading his pursuers, would have all been for naught. It was only natural Ryoma would lose his temper. 

“Calm yourself. Getting angry will not change that answer.” 

Even in the face of Ryoma’s anger, Annamaria didn’t change her expression. Apparently, she had once been a civil official for some country and had to leave her post for opposing a minister over national policies. Ryoma could agree with those rumors being plausible. 

Even before the threatening pressure Ryoma’s massive frame gave off, her expression didn’t so much as budge. She had a grit one wouldn’t expect out of a woman. Realizing threatening her wouldn’t help him here, Ryoma changed his tone. Buying Annamaria’s ire here wouldn’t do him any good. He needed to gather any information that might help him get back home. 

“I apologize for losing my temper... I’m fine. Could you explain why it’s impossible for me to go back?” 

Suppressing the hatred and anger brewing in his heart, Ryoma found the presence of mind to speak those words. Shouting here wouldn’t change the facts. If he was to advance even a single step forward, what he needed was to remain cool-headed, not to stew in anger. 

Perhaps he’d clenched his teeth too strongly, because the taste of rust spread out in his mouth. 

“The reason is clear enough... Before I explain it, though, I need to confirm something. How much do you understand about how thaumaturgy works?” 

“How thaumaturgy works...?” 

Annamaria’s question caused what the Malfist sisters had taught him about thaumaturgy to resurface in his mind. Thaumaturgy was a general term for techniques that made use of prana, the fundamental life energy that all living beings in this world had. And depending on how it was used, thaumaturgy could be divided into three main categories. 

The first employed the prana within oneself to strengthen one’s body; martial thaumaturgy. This technique required no incantations and was used to augment one’s physical ability, making it extremely menacing when used during close quarters combat. Its greatest flaw was that the scope of its influence ended with strengthening one’s body; it only augmented what the human body was capable of to begin with. So in other words, it could boost your muscle strength and stamina, but couldn’t enable you to fire flames or anything of the sort. 

The second was closer to what fantasy novels described as magic; verbal thaumaturgy. This allowed the user to temporarily borrow a bit of the power of existing gods, demons and spirits in exchange for their prana. It required reciting incantations, but it allowed one to unleash flames, fire bolts of electricity, and to make use of all kinds of powers and phenomena that humans wouldn’t normally be capable of exhibiting. At its core, verbal thaumaturgy was a method for humans to achieve what was normally impossible. 

And as for its biggest flaw, it was certainly the requirement of the incantation itself. It was possible to shorten and omit parts of the incantation depending on the caster’s skill, but all the same, mortal combat rarely allowed one the time to recite a spell. As such, verbal thaumaturgists showed their value only when given distance between their foes. 

In addition, since they were asking for the assistance of others, i.e. gods and demons, they would need to have a thaumaturgical technique made up of knowledge regarding the one whose power they were borrowing. Those were, however, secret arts only held by those in positions of power within the different countries; since the rate of illiteracy in this world was exceptionally high, very few people had the freedom to choose to learn by reading books. 

In other words, compared to martial thaumaturgy, verbal thaumaturgy had a much higher running cost on the battlefield. It was for this reason that among the many thaumaturgists, only very few employed verbal thaumaturgy. 

The final type was endowed thaumaturgy. It involved carving thaumaturgy into a tool that lacked prana of its own, like a sword or a spear, allowing it to exhibit a predetermined effect when enveloped with a user’s prana, and in so doing endowing an effect on the material. 

While it required no incantations, on the other hand it required the thaumaturgic carving to be etched by a knowledgeable craftsman, and was only capable of the single effect it was endowed with. But since the user himself didn’t need to be the one doing the engraving, the number of weapons wasn’t very limited. 

Of course, depending on the quality and material, endowed weapons could be extremely expensive, so in other words, this was effectively something the power of money could acquire. 

Each system had its own pros and cons, and the system one chose to make use of depended on the environment they were in and the skills they had. 

Ryoma’s explanation made Annamaria break into a grin. 

“Correct. So you understand the basics... Then allow me to ask. Which system of thaumaturgy does the spell to summon someone from another world fall under?” 

She wore a smile like that of a teacher testing a bad student. Ryoma whispered, as if spitting out the answer distastefully. 

“Verbal thaumaturgy...” 

“Exactly.” Annamaria nodded with a smile. “And the biggest hurdle with sending someone back to another world is in determining: to which god do you offer up your prana?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m here, in this world. This world’s thaumaturgy is what called me here!” Ryoma’s voice grew rougher. “So just tell the god they told to summon me to put me back where I was!” 

His face, usually serene and calm, was uncharacteristically awash with panic and annoyance. And that was obvious, in a way. It had now been two months since Ryoma was summoned to this world. His patience was at its limit. 

“Yes, leaving this world is possible.” Annamaria said, not changing her expression one bit. 

“Then—!” 

Ryoma tried to cut in, but the next words Annamaria spoke would send him plummeting to despair. 

“But you would be cast out to wander the fabric of space-time for all eternity.” 

“What...?” 

The moment they heard those words, a shiver ran through the Malfist sisters’ shoulders. Annamaria, however, continued speaking without budging an eyebrow, even as Ryoma cast his verbal wrath and fiery gaze in her direction. 

“And wandering within the fabric of space-time... would effectively mean death, or even a fate worse than that.” 

“Don’t bullshit me!” At that moment, something that had been bottled up inside Ryoma ever since he was summoned to this world loudly crumbled to pieces. 

The powerful sound of a blow echoed through the room. Ryoma’s clenched fist bashed into the wooden table, causing countless cracks to run through it. The table seemed rather valuable, but Ryoma could hardly care at the moment. His fist would have surely flown into Annamaria’s face, if not something else to unleash his anger upon. 

“Master Ryoma!” 

“Your hand!” 

The Malfist twins, who were standing at his side, screamed in shock. 

He’d probably broken the skin. As he struck his fist without restraint, reddish blood dripped down to the floor. 

“Master Ryoma, your hand! Sara, get a clean cloth!” 

“Fuck off! Don’t get in my way!” 

Shooing away the sisters who rushed over to treat his wound, Ryoma ignored his bleeding and glared at Annamaria. 

“Hey. I dare you to say that again.” He growled in a subdued voice, that almost felt like a grumble from the pit of the earth. 

Cold, dark hatred burned in Ryoma’s eyes, and his voice was steeped in blatant murderous intent. Neither notions of respect for his elders nor the worried glances from the Malfist sisters held any meaning for Ryoma right now. 

Emotions that he’d kept restrained until now shook Ryoma’s whole being. The man standing there with his eyes bloodshot seemed to be nothing less than a savage, frenzied demon. 

“Threaten me all you want, it won’t change the conclusion. There’s no going back to your world, which is to say, Rearth.” 

“Rearth?” 

“Yes, your original world. We call it Reverse Earth— Rearth for short. The other side of this world we live on, Earth.” 

Annamaria spoke without a hint of wavering in her expression, which made Ryoma regain a bit of composure. No amount of anger would overturn the facts, which meant that listening to Annamaria’s words right now was of the utmost importance. 

I gotta keep it together. What I need right now is information. 

Annamaria wasn’t guilty here, and Ryoma understood this perfectly. But his heart still rumbled with anger and hatred at how her merciless words shattered the hope in his heart. So Ryoma focused on the reasons for keeping her alive. He repeated in his head time after time that if he was to survive, he needed Annamaria’s information. 

So they call this world Earth, and the world I came from is Rearth... Well, I guess that makes sense. That’s just how the people in this world call it... 

This happened a lot in his old reality, too. The sun shines equally on all countries of the world, but Japan still called itself the land of the rising sun, and the world is round, which meant no matter where you were, you were never in the middle. That didn’t stop China from calling itself the Middle Kingdom. 

If there existed two sides to the world, it would only make sense for people to name the world they live in the ‘true’ side and the other side as ‘the reverse.’ 

“Of course, there’s no true and reverse side, at least not physically.” Annamaria continued, noticing the anger had diminished in Ryoma’s expression. “But the only worlds we’ve discovered that are inhabited by humans are ours and your own, and the people of the past conveniently named them as such.” 

“I don’t give two shits which side is true and which side is reverse. Why can’t I go home?” 

“It’s a simple matter.” Annamaria answered with a light shrug. “In order to summon someone from Rearth to Earth, one is required to offer up their prana to a god residing in Earth. That’s because there’s a barrier set around the world that prevents anyone from encroaching on it from outside. The same barrier is set around Rearth.” 

“Wait a second... Let’s leave the whole barrier thing aside for a second. As a matter of fact, I’ve been summoned here. Why can’t we just pray to the God that let me into this world?” 

Rationally speaking, any entrance could serve as an exit. 

“No. Whether anyone can enter a barrier is bound to the approval of the gods governing each world. What this means is that after you leave Earth, you’ll need the approval of the god who set up the barrier around Rearth to enter.” 

Ryoma tried to organize Annamaria’s words in a more understandable manner. 

So I’m welcome to leave, but if I want to get in I need to be approved... So it’s like when the door to a hotel room locks by itself and leaves you stuck outside, then. 

Auto-lock systems were common in hotels. Getting out from the inside was easy enough, but once the door closes, it locks automatically, and there’s no going back in without the key. Imagining the worlds were like hotel rooms and the fabric of space-time was the corridor made it easier to understand. 

So the key to the room is the name of the God in my world... That’s tricky. 

The two big differences, though, were that in this case, you couldn’t phone the front desk to have them unlock the door for you, and there was no guarantee he could survive while wandering the fabric of space-time. 

“So I can get through the barrier on Earth’s side, but the problem is getting through Rearth’s barrier, and me getting lost in the fabric of space-time and dying...” 

“Yes, put concisely.” Annamaria said with the same unchanging expression. “Sadly, no one’s ever returned from there, so it’s unknown what would happen to you out there. But your way of putting it is apt.” 

“But what if I do figure out the name of the god who put up the barrier around Rearth?” Even as Ryoma continued refuting Annamaria’s words, he tried predicting her next answer in the back of his mind. 

He didn’t know how long the people of this Earth had been summoning people from Rearth, but it certainly wasn’t just ten or twenty years. A century or two also seemed inadequate. 

Which meant that for centuries, perhaps even for millennia, people were forcibly summoned from his world to this one, all to be convenient pawns in a war. But what if some of those summoned escaped their summoners like Ryoma did and tried to find their way back home? If nothing else, Ryoma doubted he was the first person summoned to try to make his way home. 

Annamaria placed a faded book she retrieved from the bookcase on top of the cracked table. 

“This is a record of otherworlders who have tried to return to your old world.” Opening the book, which was thick enough to pass off as a dictionary, she continued. “Crafting a thaumaturgical technique to send you back isn’t complicated in and of itself, but that alone won’t take you back to your world.” 

Opening the tome to a certain page, Annamaria stuck it out in front of Ryoma. 

“The names of gods from your world are chronicled here. In other worlds, all the names written here are ones that were used for the spell but showed no effect.” 

“So you’re saying that so long as I don’t have the name of a god that isn’t chronicled here...” 

“Returning to your world would be impossible, yes.” 

Annamaria’s icy warning stabbed into Ryoma’s heart. Ryoma snatched the book as if stealing it away, and left with it under his arm. He then went to a tool store to buy ink and parchments, and shut himself off in his room at the inn.

“Tsukuyomi, Susanoo, Amaterasu... Yahweh, Jehovah... Indra, Agni, the Thousand-Armed Avalokiteshvara...” 

These were all the names of Gods passed down since antiquity. All famous names anyone had heard at one point or another, but the book also contained the names of unknown Gods that were buried in the sands of history and time. 

After Poseidon’s name was Odin’s. The names were listed without a trace of order or regularity. Ryoma’s predecessors were grasping at straws, indeed; they wrote down any name they could think of, without regard for religion or ethnicity. 

“Dammit! Like hell I’m giving up. I’m gonna get back home if it’s the last thing I do.” 

Those emotions spurred Ryoma onward. He repeated to himself that, so long as he took every advantage he could, no matter how low the probability of success was it wasn’t at zero. As if trying to fool himself into believing it... 

The sisters stood in the corridor leading up to Ryoma’s room. Ever since they had returned from Annamaria’s home, Ryoma’s expression was thick with gloom, and he didn’t respond to any of the Malfist sisters’ words. 

“It’s been five hours...” Sara said, and Laura nodded in silent agreement. 

Nighttime was already approaching, the time when most people would be setting off to the world of dreams. 

“Master Ryoma...” 

The Malfist sisters knew Ryoma’s feelings painfully well. Imagining themselves in his position made a shiver run through them. But they couldn’t save Ryoma from this. The only thing they could do was wait in front of his room, concerned for his well-being. 

At some point, the morning sunlight began streaming through the windows. It was sunrise. Exchanging a glance, the sisters hardened their resolve and knocked on the door. In their hands was a tray with a late night meal they had especially asked the innkeeper to prepare for them. 

Ryoma didn’t leave his room once from nightfall to daybreak. He’d ignored the twins’ suggestion to get dinner, and the late night meal they presented him. The only thing they could hear through the door was the faint sound of him flipping through the pages of the book he borrowed from Annamaria. 

The sisters’ faces were thick with signs of exhaustion from staying up all night. Still, the only thing on their minds was concern for Ryoma’s health, as he continued leafing through the book like a man possessed. 

They knocked a bit harder this time. The sisters had no intention of getting in the way of his research, but they couldn’t leave him be when he hadn’t taken any food or drink since the previous night. 

“Master Ryoma...?” Laura timidly spoke through the door, but no response came from Ryoma, and the only sound she could hear was the faint movement of paper. And eventually, even that sound ceased. 

“Sara...” 

“Yes... It seems we have but one option left, Laura.” 

Exchanging a gaze, the Malfist sisters placed the tray on the floor and faced the wooden door. The two took deep breaths and crouched down. 

The next moment, their legs, reinforced by martial thaumaturgy, crashed against the wooden door with a thud like that of a large hammer, tearing it clear off its hinges. 

““Master Ryoma!”” Calling out Ryoma’s name, the girls rushed into the room governed by darkness. 

Despite the sunlight filtering in through the windows, the air in the room was terribly bleak and cold. And the source of it was, without a doubt, the man sitting at the back of the room. 

“Master Ryoma...?” Sara’s fearful question blew into the gloomy air. 

But without even regarding the Malfist sisters’ kicking their way into his room, Ryoma simply gazed at the book lying upon the table. He’d read through it countless times. The pages were partially torn and the paper was moist with his sweat. Pieces of parchment littered the table and the floor around it, filled with crossed out names. 

Good God... He wrote down the names of all the gods he knew and referenced them against the ones in the book... 

Laura could tell with a glance that there were dozens of pages lying around. 

“Laura...” Sara pointed at two pieces of parchment lying on the floor. Names were scribbled onto one of them in dense lines, and they were all crossed out. The other one had the same lines in the same order. 

“He...” Sara whispered, and Laura nodded at her assertion. 

Ryoma listed off all the gods he knew and checked against the book, crossing out any that were mentioned. And after crossing them all out, he started over, making sure there were no mistakes, making sure that he didn’t overlook or fail to notice something. He’d repeated it time after time after time... In search of a hope that wasn’t there. 

“...Nothing...” A small whisper escaped Ryoma’s lips. 

“Master Ryoma?” 

“I... I can’t go back...” This time the sisters heard him clearly. 

“Can’t go back... Can’t go back... Can’t go back...” The words leaving Ryoma’s mouth gradually grew louder. 

His body filled with strength and his muscles tensed up, and the darkness in the room grew thicker in accordance to that. Rage and hatred filled his expression... Alongside bottomless despair. 

It wasn’t anger aimed at any one person in particular, but anger against this world itself. His wrath turned to burning black flames, and his hatred to a sharpened blade of ice. 

It had been two months since he’d been summoned to this world, and the feelings he’d suppressed all that time had now crushed the shackles of his reason and common sense which had bound them until now. 

“Laura!” 

“Yes!” 

The Malfist sisters felt something was awfully wrong since the moment they barged into the room. Their image of Ryoma was that of a calm, cold-hearted and yet kind person. But the Ryoma standing before their eyes gave off a feel that seemed awfully fragile and unstable, and at the same terribly ominous and frightening. 

The two exchanged wordless nods and gently cradled Ryoma’s head in their arms, pressing it against their bosoms. It was as if they were soothing a baby, encouraging a weeping child. 

“It will be all right, Master Ryoma. We are at your side. We will always be there for you...” 

How much time passed afterwards? The dark, oppressive atmosphere that overturned the room dissipated, leaving only the gentle morning sunlight flowing in from outside. 

And with his head cradled between the sisters’ bosoms, peaceful, rhythmic breathing emerged from between Ryoma’s lips as he fell asleep. 

“Laura, let us carry him to bed.” Sara said, looking down at him. 

“Yes... You hold onto him on that side. Let’s carry him.” 

Carrying Ryoma’s body of one hundred kilograms, the two sisters somehow managed to put Ryoma in bed. 

“What do we do now?” Sara’s gaze turned to the broken door. 

They may have had no other choice, but a kick from two people reinforced with martial thaumaturgy had blown the door away and smashed it to bits. The inn wouldn’t easily forgive them for leaving behind such conspicuous marks of destruction. 

“He hadn’t slept all of last night, so I don’t believe he will wake up until sundown...” Laura said hesitantly, looking at Ryoma as he slept on the bed. “Until he does awaken, let us explain the circumstances around the door and pay him generously in apology.” 

“Master Ryoma... I was so scared...” Sara whispered faintly, slight fear wavering in her eyes. 

“Yes... But that doesn’t matter. We owe Master Ryoma our lives, and so, we belong to him. We need only serve him.” 

If one were to honestly ask, Laura was frightened by the expression Ryoma showed, too. It was the madness of a man beset by despair, the kind that struck fear in any person who saw it. But that was all the more reason for them not to abandon him. 

But were those feelings simply from the fact he saved them from the bandits’ evil hands, or proof of a deeper affection? The sisters couldn’t discern that yet. 

“Yes, you’re right, Laura...” Sara nodded at her sister’s words, casting her gaze on their master, resting on the bed. 

With gentle smiles on their faces, they prayed for his well-being, as he peacefully slept away...

What is this place... Where am I? 

Ryoma’s consciousness was submerged in deep darkness. Cold and black, it threatened to freeze his heart over. Ryoma simply floated through that dark void. 

I... Right! I was in my room at the inn, researching something... 

Ryoma’s consciousness was gradually growing clearer. 

“This is the depths of your heart.” An artificial, emotionless voice resonated in Ryoma’s ears. 

The depths of my heart...? This is inside my consciousness? 

“Correct.” The voice replied. 

But I’m not speaking words here. 

“This is the depths of your heart; words are meaningless here.” 

But you are speaking. 

“No. That is simply how you perceive it.” 

Who are you? 

“Me? I am the one who is closest to you, who understands you better than any other.” 

The hell? 

“For now, that will do... You will someday come to the answer on your own.” The voice then asked Ryoma, “What do you desire?” 

I want... to go home. After a moment of thought, Ryoma said his deepest, most ardent wish. I want to meet Asuka and Gramps again. I want my old life back. 

Honestly speaking, Ryoma’s life wasn’t the most blessed one could wish for. He was born with a strong will and body, but that overwhelmed others and made them avoid his presence. Being stronger than others made Ryoma feared and excluded from the rest of the pack. 

But still, he had a family that loved and supported him. A grandfather that, despite his vicious tongue, raised him in place of the parents he never had. A cousin that was his childhood friend, who always meddled in his business like a nosy sister. 

True, some people tried to exclude him, but on the other hand, there were those who loved and cherished him. 

“But that wish cannot be granted.” The voice mercilessly cut Ryoma’s wish down. “You’ve seen that for yourself.” 

I can’t go back? I’ll never live that life again? 

“No going back. The chances aren’t quite zero, and you would have to resolve yourself to make a terrifying amount of sacrifices, but your only way is to cling to luck. And you know this. All that remains is whether you’re willing to make those sacrifices, or if you’re going to give up.” 

What? What do you mean? What are you saying? 

Even as he understood the truth behind the voice’s words, Ryoma pretended with all his mind that he had no idea what it meant. 

“You know and understand everything perfectly... You simply do not wish to acknowledge that answer.” The voice coldly discarded Ryoma’s lie. 

If this cold, merciless voice truly was a manifestation of Ryoma’s heart, then it was only sensible that it would see through him. He could spin his lies as well as he would like, but there was no deceiving himself... 

“If you let loose your wrath, grinding this world into dust would be easy. You’ve been thrown into Earth against your will to fight a war that has nothing to do with you. Whose fault is that?” 

That’s... the fault of that shitty old man and his empire. 

Gaius’s face surfaced in Ryoma’s mind as he answered the question. The source of it all was that old man, who had summoned Ryoma into this war-torn world to use him as a pawn in his conflict. 

“Wrong.” The voiced denied his answer. “The problem lies with the fundamental structure of this world. This is a distorted world, made up by the premise of taking advantage of you people, who have been summoned from that world.” 

Distorted world...? 

“That’s right, this is a world that presupposes one would pillage away from the other! Shatter this world. Kill. Ravage. Take back what was taken from you. You have the privilege, nay, the right to do so!” 

I have... the right? 

Such sweet, gratifying seduction. 

The voice whispered, trying to unshackle the desires that had been held in check for years within Ryoma. 

I... 

Emotions he’d bottled up turned into surging, violent currents. There was no clear reason for it; suddenly, an anger Ryoma couldn’t quite attribute a reason to flared up in his heart. 

Anger was simply anger, and hatred was simply hatred. The particularities of why and how faded away, and any sense of morals or ethics disappeared. The anger and hatred overflowed from Ryoma’s heart. It was fundamentally different from how, upon being summoned to this inexplicable Earth, Ryoma’s sense of morals disappeared momentarily when he had to defend himself in times of emergency. 

If the situation were to linger, the man known as Ryoma Mikoshiba would shed away his heart and become a demon spurred forward by nothing but hatred and wrath. 

But just as Ryoma was about to give in to the merciless voice’s seduction, the voices of the sisters rang out across this world of his unconscious. 

“It will be all right, Master Ryoma. We are at your side. We will always be there for you...” 

Those were warm, soft words, filled with tranquility. And as he heard those words, Ryoma once again lost consciousness and disappeared from that dark world. 

“Hmph. So you went back without unleashing me... Well, so be it. You will make the choice someday, whether you wish to or not. Will you subdue me, or will you be consumed by me...? That is something only you can decide... For I am you yourself.” 

With Ryoma gone, the cold, inhuman voice echoed alone in the darkness.

When Ryoma woke up on top of his bed, the sun had already gone down, and the curtain of night hung over the view outside the window. 

“Mm... Ah... Wait, what’s with that hole?” After stretching, a large yawn escaped Ryoma’s mouth. 

He’d felt truly refreshed, but as if to shatter his pleasant awakening, the first thing Ryoma saw upon surveying the room was the pitiful sight of the broken door. It had been ruthlessly smashed, and light poured in from the exposed hallway. 

The next thing on his mind was his current position. The last thing he could recall was sitting at the table reading, but now he was somehow lying in bed. His luggage, which had been in the room before, was also missing, so that was another point of concern. 

The bag with my money is still on me, so that’s good, but... 

Confirming the weight of the sack that he hid inside his clothes as an impromptu wallet was still there, Ryoma tilted his head as he surveyed the room. It looked as though it had been ransacked by robbers. 

Well, I guess I can ask the twins later... That aside, though, I’m really hungry. 

He’d ended up fasting the whole day yesterday, so it was only natural Ryoma would be hungry. And as if picking up on the cue of his grumbling stomach, the tantalizing smell of food wafted in from the missing door. It seemed food was being served in the dining hall on the floor below. 

Between the hole in place of where the door was and him being in bed despite not remembering how he got there, there were a lot of questions that begged answering. None of them triumphed over his empty stomach’s protests, though. 

Patting his ruffled hair down and adjusting his outfit, Ryoma went downstairs. 

“Oh! You’re finally awake!” The innkeeper raised his voice when he noticed Ryoma approaching. 

He was apparently in the middle of tending to his business ledger. 

“Oh, hello. Good morning.” 

Ryoma hadn’t really greeted them since checking in, but the innkeeper greeted Ryoma with a smile. 

“The girls who came with you paid the fee for fixing the room, so you don’t need to worry about that.” 

The innkeeper’s casual words made Ryoma’s expression turn dubious. Having been asleep up until now, he didn’t have a grasp on what situation he was now in. 

“Oh, I see. You’ve been asleep the whole time. You can ask the girls for the details, then. They did it for you, you know.” 

“Yeah...” Ryoma replied vaguely. 

“We’ve already been reimbursed for the damages, so don’t let it bother you. You’ll move to a new room tonight. Those two already took your luggage there.” 

He’d be staying in another room, it seemed. Ryoma could hardly object, since he wasn’t privy to the idea of sleeping in a room with no door and no privacy. 

“All right.” 

“Oh, right! You didn’t eat anything yesterday, right... The wife made some stew, so take it to your room.” With that said, the innkeeper called out to his wife, who was standing in the inn’s kitchen. “Hey, that boy’s awake now, could you fix him something to eat?” 

Almost as soon as those words were said, the plump, aged proprietress walked out of the kitchen with a tray in hand. 

“Sure thing! No need to shout, I got everything ready!” Apparently she heard Ryoma and the innkeeper talking and got everything ready. “Here! Take it and scramble to your room.” 

She vigorously stuck the tray out for Ryoma to take. The scent of well-simmered stew whetted his appetite. There was also a basket full of bread, whose aroma signaled it had been freshly baked. 

Still, Ryoma was stricken with doubt. The tray had food for three on it. The stew, which was poured into a largish plate, was certainly not just for Ryoma. And even if they were to assume Ryoma’s hunger would prompt him to take extra servings, it wouldn’t be poured into other plates; a small pot would have been enough. So why were there three plates on the tray? 

As the confusion showed on his face, Ryoma felt a light impact against his right leg’s shin. 

“That’s the share for the girls!” The proprietress said with furrowed brows, as Ryoma’s 190 centimeter tall, 100 kilogram physique jolted in surprise from a kick to the shins. “Do you have any idea how worried those girls were over you? Huh?! You big lummox!” 

She apparently didn’t like the look on Ryoma’s face. The proprietress continued explaining the situation to Ryoma, who still seemed oblivious. 

“I don’t know what you were reading in there, but you came back with your eyes bloodshot, and shut yourself in your room without a bite to eat... Now, if you don’t want to eat, that’s up to you! But those girls said they couldn’t eat if you’re not eating, and went hungry the whole time!” 

“Huh? They haven’t eaten?” Ryoma went pale the moment he heard her say that. 

He hadn’t expected the two of them to abstain from food for him. 

“That’s right. I swear, all you men are the same... Listen up! Those girls should be waking up right around now! Take that to your room and eat together with them!” 

Heaving a heavy sigh, the proprietress headed back to the kitchen with her shoulders sagged in exasperation. 

“Just goes to show you’re not alone, y’know? I dunno what’s eating at you, son, but dwelling on it will just make you lose other things you hold dear.” 

Tapping Ryoma on the shoulder as he stood stock still, the innkeeper went back to work on his business ledger. 

That was a warning from those with greater age and wisdom to a young man who was on the verge of losing his way. The innkeeper’s words were said casually, but they sank deeply and sharply into Ryoma’s heart. 

I... 

The words those two people left him with spiraled around in his mind. All he’d cared about was going back to his world, and that was his only purpose in traveling. But he’d become acutely aware of just how much Laura and Sara had supported him since the day they met. 

I haven’t been paying mind to anyone else at all... 

That thought was a barrier around Ryoma’s heart. This world stood as nothing but suffering for Ryoma, and he could never come to like it when he’d been thrown into it against his will. If anything, Ryoma loathed this world. 

But even in this world he hated, there were people who supported him. Looking back, even in O’ltormea’s capital, he’d met the owner of that back alley restaurant and the clerks in the guild, who taught him things he had to know to survive in this world, when he needed it the most. 

Such were the connections between people. In the end, a person can’t survive all on their own, and hate this world as he might, that was one fact that would never change. 

Whatever god governs fate, it must have been a cruel, whimsical and ill-natured bastard with a taste for irony. He’d robbed Ryoma of the family he loved and trusted on the one hand, but granted him two irreplaceable girls in the Malfist sisters. 

Ryoma hesitantly knocked on the door to the sisters’ room. 

“Yes, one moment...” Laura’s serene voice said from behind the door. 

“It’s me. Mind if I come in?” 

“Ah! I’ll be right there!” Realizing their guest was Ryoma prompted Sara to hastily open the door. 

Ryoma walked into the room slowly and cautiously, so as to not spill the contents of the tray. 

“Is something the matter?” Sara looked at Ryoma’s face quizzically. 

Laura, who was sitting on a bed set in the back of the room, had the same expression. 

“Nothing major... I just thought it’d be nice if we could eat together.” 

Seeing Ryoma place the tray on the table with an awkward smile, the sisters broke into happy grins. 

The meal Ryoma had that day with the Malfist twins was by no means a luxurious one, but to him it felt like the warmest, tastiest meal he’d had since arriving in this world.