Cheolgeuk (3)
"Beron."
Shirone knew.
The story of the toad that attained enlightenment just before being swallowed by a snake and became incarnated as a human.
The question he held in the final moment of immortality was…
"Can human will change the future?"
The Beron question.
If the core of thought were driven in, perhaps in infinite universes one could find a home for the mind.
"Thanks."
Shirone said.
"But I can't. No—impossible. I'm not Yahweh anymore."
Tachyon was the inverse concept of Hexa.
"Right. Amy died and I lost my universal love. But it's not just Amy anymore. Ninety-nine percent of humanity is gone. Our parents too."
He'd kept that unsaid because everyone here had lost someone they loved.
"If it's the same universe—meaning the same space—then I could meet Amy, the one I love. But even if that happened, nothing changes. I can't come here." Adam said.
"Because the timeframes are different."
"Exactly. The moment you save Amy, the universe will split off into another world. The fact that humanity was destroyed in this time and space won't change. That means I can't have universal love again, and consequently…"
Shirone said bleakly.
"Because I'm not Yahweh, I can't even reverse causality."
Silence fell.
"You're misunderstanding something. A multiverse is a topological coordinate with infinite space and infinite time. Countless versions of me making endless choices at the same moment live in other universes, and countless versions of me connect past to future within the same space. Beron's Cheolgeuk only solves the spatial problem. Even if I go back and save Amy, the present won't change."
It would hurt Shirone most to say it, but surprisingly the others weren't solemn.
When Shirone blinked, Nade grinned.
"Figured you'd say that. You didn't think we hadn't considered a time paradox, did you? We know at least that going into the past can't change the future of the same universe."
"What—?"
Fermi said.
"First, fix the spatial coordinates with the Cheolgeuk."
Shirone slowly turned his head.
"Then the remaining problem is the many timeframes in the same space. If you can't change the future by going to the past, you just merge past and future into one present."
"Wait, how would that—"
Shirone stopped.
"Ah."
"Right. Time Burst."
Fermi said.
"From the moment you save Amy up to our current point, we blow up every temporal barrier between. Then you and we aren't past and future—we're a single present coexisting in the same time frame."
The time paradox would be resolved.
"But—"
Shirone's voice became urgent.
"The Time Burst is integrated into the Eleven Senses, isn't it? Even if we try, without Tachyon you can't evade the Law of God. You can't handle two states at once."
"The Depreciation Trade contract." Fermi produced a sheet of paper.
"The thing I like about this ability is you can adjust contract terms. This document is far more important than which spell you lease when. Anyway, your signature transferring the Time Vibration is written here very precisely. You can check it." Shirone had no memory of it.
"With the Depreciation Trade you can only lease magic using income earned from abilities. I thought I was going to die trying to match the sums. I'll leave the transaction cost to your imagination."
There was no humor in it.
"In any case, it can be exchanged for a chip at any time. More precisely—I can pull you into the present."
"Fermi—"
"At first it was just a hypothesis." He disliked the syrupy tone.
"Honestly, I didn't expect you'd be persuaded. Back then there was no concrete plan—only a concept for deceiving a god. Amy could have truly died. In a state beyond revival."
"Then why—did you accept the deal?"
Did he really accept it?
"He said he'd trust me. That's what you said." "Honestly, I didn't expect those words. I wrestled with you for days and found no solution. Whether you were that desperate or you truly esteemed me, I couldn't tell…"
Fermi smiled bitterly.
"It was a burden—I felt my blood dry. For the first time in my life I made a losing deal."
"You—"
Seeing Shirone's voice tremble, Fermi clapped his hands to change the mood.
"Okay, now it's my turn to answer. If you save Amy in the same space, I'll pull you into the same time. Then what happens?"
Fermi snapped his fingers and echoed what Shirone had said a moment before.
"Poof—and Amy appears."
It was reality.
"Huu…"
A sob escaped.
"Then you'll be Yahweh again, and civilizations scattered to dust will rise like magic. The ninety-nine percent of humanity who were sacrificed will ride the surge of the time wave and be restored in our reality. How's that—enough for you?"
The world's most demanding customer.
"Really…?"
Tears streamed from Shirone's eyes.
"You can save Amy? I… can I really meet Amy again?"
Nade smiled.
"You'll change the future, Shirone. Let's land a blow on the god who mocked us."
After a moment of bowing and choked breaths, light welled from Shirone's body.
Hexa—Miracle Stream.
When he looked up again, there was no trace of defeat in his eyes.
"I'll do it. I'll save Amy—no matter what."
A fight for himself alone.
But since Shirone's victory would ultimately save all humanity, Fermi had been right.
Nade gave a wry smile.
How far ahead are you looking? The memory of school days still left a sour taste, but he could understand Seriel's feelings.
I really had no idea they were that close. I should ask Amy later.
Fermi said, "Shall we start the briefing now?"
Iruki sipped tea and stared across the table at Lanstin and Rin.
Surprisingly not arrogant.
They simply kept their eyes down, appearing somewhat withdrawn.
Indifferent.
A sign that they'd willingly lose a power struggle—please don't interfere in my life.
This won't be easy.
To Iruki, the artist was like an unfamiliar neighbor in the same building. He thought he knew the man, but actually knew nothing—so he'd start from there.
"I heard you parted from your daughter long ago."
A killing intent.
An aura equal to Gaold churned, but the door did open.
"It was a cold."
Lanstin spoke for the first time.
"A trivial illness. She was always a bit sick. Well, it was probably my fault. Bad things are always my fault."
"Couldn't you take her to the hospital?"
"…I must've been in the studio. Probably playing guitar. She liked when I played."
He sharpened his tone on that last line, as if that one thing could never be taken from him—an almost desperate defense.
Does he really not remember?
The report said he'd been beaten by loan sharks while trying to borrow money.
"I won't do it."
Lanstin continued.
"I appreciate you saving her, I suppose. But it doesn't matter. I won't do anything."
"Mr. Lanstin."
"I'm not a hitman. I kill people, but I've never taken money. I don't know. I don't want to think. Let me go back."
"We're not asking you to kill someone."
Rin lifted her head.
As expected from the leader of humanity, she wasn't going to ask for someone to be disposed of.
"This is far harder. Only you can do it. If you fail, everyone dies."
Lanstin didn't seem displeased.
Whether because everyone would die or because only he could do it, no one could tell.
"So I just play the guitar?"
"Lanstin's ability: Saman. He alters bio-vibrations to induce death. Its power increases with population size, as I've heard."
"And?"
"In eight hours a catastrophe called Selbuster will occur at the Arctic. A species called Antisel will combine with humans and reduce cellular counts to zero."
Rin's eyes widened.
"Wow."
Iruki said, "Please postpone that catastrophe by seven days."
"Postpone?"
Not destroy it?
"You can't stop it with Saman. It's an unsolvable code. Kill one and two will form; destroy two and four will return."
So… seven days.
"Are you telling me—after calling me here—to let us die?"
"This is humanity's last chance. The life of this planet is in your hands."
"That doesn't matter."
Lanstin said.
"What matters is being the last guitarist. I don't care whether the world ends."
"Not necessarily. If you save all humanity, wouldn't your daughter be happy?"
His first smile sounded almost like a sneer, and Iruki fell silent.
I don't know.
Still an unfamiliar neighbor.
Fermi said, "Even if we solve the time paradox, it makes things trickier. Events in the past will then affect the future. If you alter any event besides Amy's, everything in the present could change."
"That's troublesome."
He had no right to complain, but the one to quarrel with over causality was Lanstin himself.
"History must be preserved. To solve this we need three things. First, a blueprint containing all of humanity's history. Second, the ability to compute that history. Third, an execution unit to enforce the computed history."
Not just tricky.
"And."
Fermi said, "We have all three."
Shirone listened.
"First: the blueprint of humanity's entire history—that's with Uorin. Second: the ability to compute that history—that's possible by combining Richard with the Holy Brain. And third: ensuring the existing history remains unchanged regardless of your actions will be handled by the Twelve Apostles."
"Messiah."
From the darkness the Twelve Apostles emerged.
"You—?" Shirone asked. "What have you been doing hiding there this whole time?"
Asriker stepped forward.
"Our Messiah is the Yahweh of the age. There's no reason to speak to one who has lost his realm." When Shirone's eyes sank into sorrow, Asriker glanced at his comrades in awkwardness.
"J-just joking."
The draconic Poine said, "Anyway, since you've regained your realm, congratulations. Fight as you wish. We'll guard history."
Yes—these were…
Apostles of Time.
Those who had perfectly preserved humanity's history against Anke Ra's three resets.