He’s Your Brother

Inside the southern forest of the Empire.

The carriage carrying the White Woodcraftsman and us, along with the returning powers of the world, was progressing through the woods.

The White Woodcraftsman’s carriage had all sorts of magical enhancements.

Because of that, even in the forest, travel was incredibly smooth.

Inside that carriage.

Inside the carriage, there were five individuals, excluding the White Woodcraftsman who was in another carriage.

And they were all strangers to each other.

The noble Saintess, Narea of the Sacred Acrede.

The Berserk Magician Vinesha and Mushika, the reincarnation of Aquilin.

Isabel, who had awakened the Wings of the Goddess.

Zenia Niflheim, the reincarnation of Jerion.

Their only familiarity was from their past lives.

However, Mushika and Isabel were naturally gifted with social skills.

It was certain that there wouldn’t be any particular problems in the carriage.

Except for the fact that Mushika was unusually quiet today.

Musica kept her gaze fixed on me, unwavering.

A most peculiar look, scanning me up and down with subtle scrutiny.

Isabelle, uncharacteristically demure, sat beside me.

She glanced at Xenia now and then, for reasons unknown.

Acrede, needless to say, was quiet.

Without Narea at her side, she struggled to speak to others.

So, in the silence, she fidgeted, striving to maintain her saintly composure.

Lastly, there was the girl who clearly couldn’t acclimate to the atmosphere.

Xenia Nippleheim.

Dressed in the combat attire her house had prepared for her, she was visibly tense.

Her back was ramrod straight, her chin held high.

Undoubtedly, she was the daughter of a Count of the Empire.

But the company gathered here was daunting.

A noble Saint.

The reincarnation of the former hero, Aquilin.

The Awakened of the Goddess’s Wings.

And then there was me, for the time being, a White Arborist’s escort.

No matter how noble a count’s daughter she was, it was hardly a situation where she could relax her shoulders.

Of course, Xenia had her own claim – the reincarnation of Jerion.

But without Jerion’s memories, she was simply Xenia, not Jerion.

With no memories or connections to speak of, Xenia was practically sitting on pins and needles.

‘Especially with the Count of Nippleheim likely giving her a stern lecture.’

An escort to the White Arborist.

He must have repeatedly warned her not to cause any trouble, in any way.

Moreover, she was the youngest by far.

At this age, even a year’s difference feels significant.

The pressure must be immense.

“Vee… Hi… No, Ryuji. Ryu.”

At that moment, Musica attempted to call my name, correcting herself several times before finally speaking.

“What is it, Musica?”

“Have we… met somewhere before?”

We’ve met plenty of times.

But what Musica meant was in this form, it seemed.

Musica had reacted strangely when she first saw me in this guise.

「What’s with that appearance?」

As if she had met me somewhere before.

A question that also meant, had she ever met me in this form.

I tilted my head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Only Sharin had seen me like this.

No one in this world knows this face.

At my reply, Mushika tilted her head this way and that, a subtle expression on her face.

*Why is she doing that?*

“Why? Have you seen me somewhere before?”

“That’s what I don’t know. That’s why I’m so perplexed. It’s a strange feeling, like something’s there in my memory but isn’t.

It’s the feeling of a soul reacting. I’m a little annoyed that I can’t even figure it out.”

Mushika’s eyes bored into me.

I hadn’t the faintest idea what she meant.

More than that, I gestured to Mushika with my eyes, *somebody please defuse this atmosphere.*

Normally, I’d leave it to Isabel, but today she was strangely demure.

If I were a woman, maybe, but trying to steer the conversation in a room full of nothing but males was difficult.

So, I had no choice but to leave it to Mushika.

She, surely, could break through this mood.

Mushika finally accepted this.

“You know…”

And just as Mushika was about to open her mouth…

*Thump!*

Akrede’s chest exploded.

Never in my life did I imagine I’d utter the phrase, *someone’s chest exploded.*

The heaviness, felt even through her clothes, was shocking.

Everyone’s gaze locked onto Akrede.

Even Akrede, not expecting this situation, stood there blankly, her lips agape.

It seemed the cord holding up what concealed her chest had come undone.

Narea would have tied it meticulously, but it was a mistake only Akrede would make.

“Th-that is…”

Akrede felt her pride as a saint crumble as her face flushed crimson.

“…Akrede, were you hiding *that* all this time?”

Mushika made the first move.

Akrede’s lips moved soundlessly.

Mushika didn’t stop there, pushing forward.

“Why did you hide it! That’s such a waste!”

“A-a waste, you say?”

“Of course! To hide such a national-power-grade weapon is such a waste, a waste!”

Akrede’s chest had, in an instant, become national-power-grade.

“Ah, hehe, is that… so?”

And Akrede, rather foolishly, took it as a compliment.

That she was weak to praise was very much like her.

“If it were me, I would have just, like, used it to… uh, like, boom?”

Mushika was explaining something rather fervently, but it was hard to watch with open eyes.

I wish the former hero wouldn’t flaunt her knowledge.

‘Very Musica,’ indeed.

Perhaps it was the memories of Aquilin.

She did not treat Acrede differently simply because Acrede was said to be a saint.

Perhaps that was why Acrede quickly grew fond of Musica.

For people will, in the end, open their hearts to those who approach them without pretense.

“Ryudo, don’t you think so too?”

Just then, the flow of conversation turned back to me.

Such a deft hand at handling conversation.

“Indeed, Lady Acrede is a most admirable person.”

“Ah, hee hee hee.”

Acrede, weak to praise, once again giggled foolishly.

At that moment, Isabel suddenly jabbed me sharply in the ribs.

When I turned to look at Isabel, she averted her gaze, pretending nothing had happened.

I could see beads of sweat on the back of Isabel’s neck.

She reacted as if she, herself, didn’t know why she had done that.

As I looked at Isabel with perplexed eyes, another person caught my attention.

Zenia was still watching her step.

Zenia’s eyes darted back and forth, unsure where to land.

For now, I feel a pang of sympathy for her, being my sister by blood.

I should try to look after her a little.

“Miss Zenia, how goes your preparation for Jerion Academy, where you will be enrolling next year?”

“Ah, uh, yes, yes, that is so.”

Zenia startled at my question and answered hastily.

This is her chance to step into this atmosphere.

I could feel that she was quite nervous.

Like the perfectionist she is, she seemed conscious of not making any mistakes.

“I hear there will be many formidable first-year students next year. And you are entering through the regular examination, not by recommendation.”

I continued the conversation naturally, hoping to ease her tension.

At that, Zenia displayed an awkward reaction.

“Even if I were to enter by recommendation, I would not be able to show my true abilities. I intend to proudly achieve a good score on the entrance examination and enter that way.”

I could feel Zenia’s firm resolve.

It made my younger sister seem reliable and admirable.

“Miss Zenia is remarkable indeed.”

Isabel, who was beside me, nodded in agreement.

“…Miss?”

I turned to look at Isabel.

If it were the usual Isabel, she would have said that Zenia would become her junior and would have acted familiar with her.

But for some reason, her tone was very polite.

Isabel met my gaze, but she shamelessly wore a demure smile.

I don’t know what’s wrong with her today.

I shifted my gaze from the peculiar Isabel and back to Zenia.

Perhaps mitigating her perfectionism had some effect, after all.

Zenia seemed a touch more at ease than before.

“…So, truth be told, it still feels unreal. That I am the reincarnation of Jerion.”

Zenia remained hesitant to accept that she was Jerion’s rebirth.

“It’s alright. Everyone feels that way. Had I not possessed my memories, I’d likely react the same.”

To this, Mushika offered her agreement.

In a way, her talents could all be attributed to her being the reincarnation of a hero.

Talents gained without effort, simply by virtue of being reborn.

A situation she, as a reincarnation, likely found unpalatable.

Thus, Mushika felt a sense of kinship.

“Um, may I ask just one question?”

As if finally finding her voice, Zenia now posed a question herself.

“As many as you like.”

Mushika replied with determined spirit, and Zenia asked, hesitating slightly,

“Are there any other heroes besides us?”

Apart from the heroes present, there were a few more.

It was a perfectly natural thing for Zenia to be curious about.

“The hero Parazon is Prince Ergo.”

I was able to offer that answer.

Ergo, with whom my relationship was, at best, strained.

He was Parazon’s reincarnation.

“Prince Ergo, is that so.”

Ergo was quite famous even in other countries.

As such, Zenia nodded with understanding.

Ergo was the most vital figure in the kingdom.

Unless something unusual, like Acrede, occurred, abduction would prove difficult.

Therefore, we naturally thought of Zenia, who was, comparatively, the easiest to abduct.

“As for the hero, Ordo…”

After a moment of silence, I looked back at Mushika.

Mushika gave a bitter smile and continued,

“He’s already been killed by Vulcan.”

The leader of the mystics.

And the reincarnation of Rozly, Vulcan.

He had already killed and consumed the hero, Ordo’s reincarnation.

Zenia fell silent.

She had become aware of the fact that she, too, nearly met the same fate.

This was precisely why I had acted so swiftly.

One of the many bad endings from the Flame Butterfly Chronicles.

A corrupted flame.

When Vulkan, who has consumed all reincarnations, is completed, he will become a monster that no one can control.

He burns everything in this world with his corrupted flames.

That is the Bad Ending: the Corrupted Flame.

“Excuse me, Lady Zenia, would you mind if I asked you just one question as well?”

Just then, Isabel tossed another question at Zenia.

She was still being uncharacteristically polite.

“What kind of person is your brother, Vikaman?”

It wasn’t so much curiosity as a desire to tease, it seemed.

I saw Isabel glance at me and grin sheepishly.

Isabel knows who I am.

So she must be curious to know what a younger sister thinks of her older brother.

“Vikaman, you say?”

In that moment, Zenia dropped all honorifics and revealed a deeply unsettling aura.

She made no secret of the fact that she was displeased with this topic.

“A fool ruined by self-deprecation.”

Zenia rattled off her brusque reply.

Isabel then turned to look at me, her eyes wide.

It seemed she hadn’t known what the relationship between me and Zenia was like.

“He was alright in his younger years, but after I gained magical talent, he couldn’t bear the jealousy and gave up on magic.

Lost in perfectionism, with strict standards for himself but lacking skill, he’s a pathetic person.”

Zenia was already long tired of Vikaman, it seemed.

Watching this unfold, Mushika cleared his throat.

“W-well, surely there were some good points? Or at least, did he consider other options in his own way!”

“I don’t know. At some point, he avoided all conversations with me.

I’m actually curious now. Just what he’s been thinking all this time.”

Isabel tried to interject, but Zenia wore a troubled expression.

“…He’s not such a bad person.”

Isabel, for no reason, took on a melancholy air.

“I don’t even know where he lives now, so forget it. I’m not interested anymore, anyway. He’s a man who ruined his life with his head turned by women.”

“That’s…”

Isabel turned to look at me.

Her eyes, which had been filled with uncertainty just moments ago, now pouted as if she was sulking.

“True, it is.”

Why is she agreeing there?

When I looked at Isabel, she abruptly turned her head away.

“I wish my brother was even just a little like Master Ryu.”

Then, for some reason, I ended up receiving a compliment.

“You barely look any older than my brother, yet you’re already an attendant to Lord Baekmok, it’s admirable.”

Eastern faces apparently look very young to Western eyes.

So it seems that my own face naturally appears quite youthful.

“Indeed. Ryu is quite remarkable.”

Isabelle readily agreed, there.

Almost as if she herself felt puffed up with pride.

Isabelle’s emotions were swinging wildly today, it seemed.

“Miss Xenia, I am not so very young, you know.”

“Is that so? Forgive my presumption. Though it is true I hold you in high regard.”

Perhaps it was because she had been so diligent in trying to cheer Xenia up, all the way here.

That, unbeknownst to her, my evaluation of her had risen considerably.

To be acknowledged by such a perfectionist.

Perhaps I *was* a rather impressive person.

‘At this rate, I might even be able to fill in for Lucas.’

Of course, if they learned I was a Vikarn, it would all mean nothing.

‘Scorned as a Vikarn, praised as Ryu…’

Though the scorn didn’t bother me in the slightest, perhaps because I hadn’t actually lived any time as a Vikarn.

Rather, I felt a pang of guilt towards Xenia.

Within the austere Nifleheim Dukedom, one’s bloodline was all one had to lean on.

And the Vikarn who should have become that bloodline had turned his back on her, leaving her feeling like she’d lost the world.

“I wish to become a dignified adult, quickly. I want to become strong, even if I must do it alone.”

A perfectly perfectionistic response.

She longed for the stability of adulthood, rather than the incompleteness of childhood.

‘The reality is, adults are hardly different from children.’

Living through an increasingly harsh world, one is bound to long for their younger days.

“…I don’t wish to become an adult,”

Acrede whispered softly, at that moment.

Thankfully, Xenia didn’t seem to hear.

I glanced at Acrede, who made a point of straightening her posture and pretending not to notice.

Judging by how she kept gathering her arms across her chest, she seemed self-conscious about how much cleavage was showing.

I wished she’d stop, lest I start feeling self-conscious as well.

Clunk-

Just then, we heard the sound of the lead carpenter’s carriage coming to a halt.

And with that, the carriage we were riding in finally came to a stop as well.

“Musica.”

“Hehe, that’s right. It’s about time we arrived!”

Acrede inhaled sharply, seemingly nervous.

Cardinal Centriole promptly opened the carriage door.

What was supposed to be a winter event, with a stealth mission.

An event where Lucas would obtain the Shroud Bandage from Vinesha and delve into the mysteries of occultism.

However, this time the situation had changed drastically.

After all, I already knew everything about occultism.

The stealth mission was, at best, simply a lead-in event for the next scenario.

In truth, it hardly sways the grand design.

Practically the sole scenario one could skip without consequence.

‘My own compromise, of sorts.’

What follows this juncture, the tide of the world—I cannot say for certain.

But even with the gaping void left by Lucas, somehow, we navigated thus far.

‘We can do it again.’

There is nothing beyond reach in this world.

Only things yet accomplished.

Thud-

Alighting from the carriage, I sensed an odd current in the air.

A most unsettling atmosphere it was, to be sure.

Then, before my eyes, a vast and precipitous canyon unfolded.

The cliffs, with their gaping maw, evoked images of the infernal abyss itself.

Below, a myriad of creatures I’d never witnessed in reality soared through the air.

Among them, beings that resembled, in a fashion, dragons.

Or rather, mimicked the form of dragons.

The wind howled through the canyon.

A river raged far below, carving its path.

Once, a glacier held sway here, but with the passage of ages, it melted, birthing this chasm.

The Canyon of the Earth Dragon.

Home to one of the three ancient dragons, the Earth Dragon himself.

Mysticism, the flesh of steel, responded instinctively.

I could keenly feel the sheer peril of the mystical force coiled within the canyon.

I know Vulkan’s purpose.

And the being he loathes above all others.

‘To topple the Goddess.’

Vulkan’s true aim: to erase the Goddess from this world.

“Boy.”

Thus, to prevent it, I have gathered the finest.

Bang-

The Pale Carpenter, knuckles cracking, stared with eyes that gleamed with a fierce intensity.

“You’d best keep up.”

Act 5, Scene 5, hastened into being.

Let us call it Act 4, Scene 7, newly written.

Operation: Vulkan Annihilation.

Today, we rewrite this scenario.