88 – Test

Because a conversation of such gravity was about to begin.

“..What are you saying? What does that mean?”

Slowly, she approaches me.

Kneeling before me as she does.

Her canary yellow pupils draw near,

and simultaneously, my body recoils.

Like a grazing animal before a predator,

my form twitches.

“Surely, you have some understanding

of what this implies, yes?”

“….”

“Yes, that’s right. Side effect.”

Words resurface.

Words I’d seen in the status window.

*The will of the dragon dwells within your eyes.*

*It will test you relentlessly.*

*And it may even try to seize your body.*

‘..But is that what it truly meant?’

“Well, ordinarily, we wouldn’t be able to meet like this.

It should have ended with you merely hearing my voice.

“..But why?”

“I don’t know.”

“…?”

“Whether it’s coincidence, or the power of that status window you mentioned,

you’ve been pulled into the mental realm, so, for me, it’s all the better.”

Here, I don’t need to concern myself with outside eyes.

Her pupils narrow once more, growing elongated,

and a subtle air of coercion begins to emanate from her,

and a cold sweat trickles down my back as

her final words send a chill down my spine.

Then, with a flick of her fingers,

something begins to resonate all around us.

“Wh-What is this..?”

“Ah, just stay still.

It’s nothing bad.”

The crystals around us stir.

No, they are vibrating.

The crystals, which bloomed like flowers everywhere,

all respond in a unified manner.

And it surfaces.

The crystals blooming from the floor.

Crystals of all hues, embedded in the black floor and walls,

all ascending toward the sky,

erupting with light befitting their individual colors,

flying towards me.

One, two, three.

The crystals accumulate.

Even those invisible before,

now rise from the ground, soaring towards me.

As if sculpting a mountain,

they pile upon each other, layer by layer.

“…What is this?”

“…?”

“What kind of life have you lived?

No, are you even human?”

She speaks, gazing at the mountainous

tower of crystal unfolding before me.

Her voice betraying a shade more

bewilderment than before.

“How could a mere Short-Lived have

so many memories?”

“…?”

“And all of them the worst, the most horrific,

cherry-picked and gathered together?”

“Wait, what are you ta—”

“This shouldn’t be…hold on.

Why are there seven of those?”

With her last words,

her gaze locks onto something.

An inexplicably sharp stare

fixated on the very bottom of the crystal tower.

And below, as she stated,

precisely seven, each a different size.

Black crystals rested there.

“…Hey, you…what the hell are you?”

“G-gr…Kkh…Su…Suddenly…”

“You’re definitely human, your appearance, your scent too.

Everything points to you being human.”

My throat seized by an unknown force.

Caught, and lifted into the air just so.

A hasty hand reaches out, grasping, but

the formless energy slips through, untouchable.

Only a tightening of her prayer remains.

“But tell me, why is it that these black crystals…

…are so abundant within you?”

“Ka… hak…”

“Ah, you can’t understand what I’m saying?

Let me be so kind as to explain.”

The Inner World.

A space of unconsciousness formed from

a life’s memories, experiences, and heart;

a place where, more than anywhere,

one’s true self is laid bare.

“At first, when I arrived here before you,

I thought, ‘What is this, even?'”

“….”

“I’d never heard of an Inner World

where everything writhed only in black.”

“Keuh…!”

“Do you know that the atmosphere of an Inner World

reflects the life one has lived?

It reveals what kind of spirit you lived with,

what sort of emotions you harbored.”

The grip around her throat intensifies, and at once,

her hair ripples once more.

Not only that.

Small horns began to sprout from her head,

and her fine skin slowly peels away, revealing scales.

“And each and every one of these crystals here

represents memories, experiences, thoughts

etched deeply into your mind.”

“….”

“Every person’s experiences and memories are different,

so their colors are bound to vary wildly,

but there is one color, unique,

that appears in everyone. No,

in every living thing.”

She approaches me, held aloft in the air.

Her pupils, slit vertically,

and one arm, now completely covered in scales, reaching out.

“That color is birth, and death.”

“Truly, save for a precious few exceptions,

everyone possesses only a single, solitary hue.”

“….”

“But you… what are you, then?”

Finally, from beneath me,

she gazed up at me.

Tapping the very tip

of her fully matured horns with a finger.

“You bear seven black crystals, representing the dying moment,

something one could only experience at the very end of life?”

“….”

“Just a human, at best,

a creature with a finite lifespan.”

How does one repeat death so?

Her voice shifts, changes.

A voice that sends shivers crawling across my skin,

erupting from her small mouth.

“You do not crave life.

One only needs to sense the atmosphere here to know it.

Yet eternal death

does not find purchase within you either.

A contradiction, a perfect contradiction.”

“..Kkk.. Hngh..”

“And as far as I know,

only one being embodies such a thing.

Granting power to mere creations,

allowing them to escape the respite called death,

and sucking dry their faith like parasitic vermin.”

“….”

“God… what is your connection to such things?”

Ashes spill forth from her mouth.

Ashes like a black fog.

Ominous ashes that feel as though

inhaling even a wisp would bring instant demise.

They filled the black void,

and the pressure on my neck released.

My body plummeted downwards.

With a thud, a gentle shock ran through me,

and I gasped for air.

She watched me, continuing to stare.

From her shoulders, a pair of wings unfurls.

Torn and tattered, as if they were nothing more than rags,

wings that flutter like a cape.

“…Well, no matter.”

“…Huh?”

And then they vanish.

The oppressiveness, so incredibly potent, disappears as well.

The hot ash,

scattered before it could cling to my skin,

the ragged wings gone without a trace,

and even the horns that had sprouted from her head have left no sign of their existence.

“…Sorry, I got worked up for nothing.”

“….”

“Let’s postpone the conversation and take the test first,

neither of us are really in the mood for that right now anyway.”

“…Test?”

“Yes, to determine your worthiness.”

“…?”

“Originally, I was just going to take your body,

but… I’ve changed my mind.”

The language of dragons is reality itself,

a phenomenon, truth, a mystery incarnate.

And above all, the sole property of dragons.

“No other race can take what is ours

without permission.

If such a creature were to be discovered by one of our own,

they would be torn limb from limb.”

“….”

“But there have been rare exceptions.

Those who could wield the dragon tongue.”

The Dragonians, distant descendants of dragons,

and those named as Dragon Familiars.

The only beings able to draw close to dragons.

“You’re not a Dragonian, I’m certain of that.

So that leaves only one possibility, does it not?”

“….”

“The way to become a Familiar is to pass a dragon’s trial.

And that trial differs from dragon to dragon.”

The crystal tower, still until now, begins to tremble,

and then crumbles into a ruin.

And again, it surfaces.

Those obsidian pillars, supporting the tower from the very bottom.

“My test is simple.”

“..What?!”

“Just endure it, don’t lose consciousness.

Remember only that, and things will take care of themselves.”

The obsidian shards, suspended in the air,

rush towards me.

Without any warning,

at an impossible speed.

Unable to evade the black crystals,

the moment of impact, the surrounding scenery shifts.

And she vanishes.

The woman who stood before me, arms crossed.

At the same instant, my body turns transparent,

and the landscapes, painted in shades of black,

are abruptly imbued with vibrant colors,

color takes on substance,

implements touch,

and activates sight.

“..Who… who is it? The one who ordered this.

By whose command are you doing this?”

As sight is activated,

smell and touch follow in quick succession.

Freshly spilled, still-warm blood

splatters onto my hand with a wet *thwack*.

The chilling screech of metal against metal

tickles my ears,

and the odor of rusted iron, the briny scent of blood,

conjure memories long past.

“..Let’s see if you can endure *this*, eh?!”

“Kkeueueu…aaargh!!”

Multiple branding irons, inside a fiercely burning brazier.

Beside it, neatly arranged, lie

instruments designed for rending and tearing.

Some, already used, have

blood still dripping, uncleaned.

A torture chamber, in the most generous of terms.

Perhaps because of something from long ago, a sudden, splitting headache.

Clutching at a head threatening to shatter,

I barely managed to turn toward the sound of commotion.

A man was furiously striking something – a chair –

over and over.

Blood sprayed with each blow,

as if torture were currently in progress.

And tied to the chair before him, being tortured, was

“…I don’t know! Why can’t you understand?”

“…So, even an assassin has their code of honor, eh?”

“No…heh, I really don’t know.”

It was me, my former self.

Number 8…no, me, after being betrayed by Jill,

tortured and left for dead.

Even stunned by the scene unfolding before my eyes,

only one phrase echoed in my mind.

‘Just endure, don’t lose consciousness.

If you remember that, everything will fall into place.’

“…Haha, so that’s what she meant?”

She told me to endure.

She told me the obsidian was the color of death.

So, in other words.

‘She’s telling me…not to lose consciousness even after experiencing death…ugh!!”

“Where do you think you’re going?! Let’s see you act like a son of a b*tch until the very end!!”

Each time he struck “my” head,

my own head throbbed with the same pain.

A club, and not just any club, but one studded with iron spikes,

the kind thugs would carry – it crashed into my skull.

My head split, blood flowed,

and my skull felt as if it had cracked from the spikes.

Then, my body was shredded,

indiscriminately.

Thwack, thump, splinter, the sounds erupted from the man’s club.

Eerie sounds echoed within the cramped room.

“Tch, hey!! Is anyone there?!”

“Puh…hehe…What a pity that it’s broken?”

“…Looks perfectly fine to me.”

After those words,

the violence continued.

Not with a club, but with fists.

My whole body was broken and torn apart.

A moan, laced with agony, began to resonate like music.

But, even at the very end, “I” did not lose consciousness.

Rather, the man gave up first, exhausted by his own efforts, and left.

And enduring until the bitter end,

that too, was “I.”

‘hhh…huh…’

“Tch, of all people to meet, it had to be this stubborn one…!”

“..Cagh…ugh…fuck..you. Fucking…hurts─”

“..Rest comfortably, if only for a little while,

so you’ll have strength left to scream.”

The door opens momentarily, then shuts.

The man, enraged ,left, abandoning his spot.

And at that very instant,

the scenery around me shifts once more.

Like the scenery inside and outside the door,

it shifts into a completely different vista.

Snow falling in sheets,

a frigid wind blowing through the streets.

A night adorned with beautifully scattered stars.

And beneath the beautiful moonlight,

an orphaned child shines alone.

The clothes they wear were closer to rags,

and the whole body of the child has been unwashed, leaving a greasy residue.

Desperate to endure this cold,

the child curls up, hugging their knees.

“….”

‘..Ah, shit.’

That too, was me.