Eternally Regressing in Another World

Chapter 28: Square 23: A Trivial Story

”The wise old man mentioned in that history book, that’s me.”

Old Man Beard opened the book and pointed to the page.

”Two hundred years... I’ve lived in this world for two hundred years now. A dizzying length of time.”

Old Man Beard let out a deep sigh as he brewed some coffee.

”Two hundred years... normally that’d just mean you’re dead.”

He flipped further through the book he was holding and pointed out another passage to me.

”Ageless disease, written right here, see?”

Come to think of it, that was a term I’d seen in Elizabeth’s library too. Ageless, taken literally, wasn’t something that fit neatly into something as small as a mere illness.

”Immortality, that’s basically humanity’s dream, isn’t it!?”

Old Man Beard took a sip of coffee and quietly shook his head.

”You still die. Because you’re ageless.”

I started to say ”but—” when he cut in first.

”Say, for instance, I died right here, right now. I’d come back to life. At some point, as if nothing had happened.”

”There’s no way you could just come back to li—ah...”

I trailed off mid sentence, mouth still open, frozen. You die, but... you don’t die. That contradictory reality was exactly the situation I found myself in right now.

”You’d come back, if you’re a reincarnate like me. Even if I tried to end my own life right here, I’d always come back. The moment you come back, your memories get rewritten too, and you’re dropped right back into ordinary life. So even if you die, you don’t even realize you died, you just find yourself living your life again before you know it. That’s us, the ones who’ve given up on moving forward. I wrote about my own situation in a novel, disguising it as fiction, and called it ’The Fallen.’”

The Fallen. There wasn’t a shred of anything positive in that word.

”Am I one of the Fallen too, then?”

”No, not you. The Fallen are those who’ve given up. People who’ve stopped fighting against the hardships thrown at them, the suffering that comes their way, the trials the world puts before them. People like that get death itself, their only means of escape, taken away by the world’s curse.”

”Taken away by... who?”

”Who knows? A dragon, a demon, or maybe even a god. Either way, once you’re Fallen, living in this world is your only option left. Even if you don’t want to live, you have no choice but to keep living.”

Old Man Beard clutched at his chest, looking pained. Even a bad heart couldn’t grant him death. It was like a cage built into the world itself. An eternal prison, impossible to escape even through death. Maybe I hadn’t been reincarnated at all. Maybe I’d just been locked away somewhere. That thought alone was enough to tighten around my own chest.

”...I know ’way out’ might sound like a strange way to put it, but was there really no path back to your original world?”

”No, there wasn’t. There was a time I searched for one with everything I had. But... there was nothing. Nothing anywhere.”

I sat there stunned, forgetting even to drink the milk tea he’d made me. I’d thought coming here would clear things up, but instead I just had more to worry about. Still, flipping through the pages of the history book, I tried to think of some way forward.

”The other reincarnates... that’s it! If I could find the remaining four listed here...”

”Already tried that.”

Saying that, Old Man Beard pulled out the very novel, set in America, that had led me to him in the first place.

”If someone from our original world saw this, I figured they’d come find me. That’s why I wrote it. ...And you’re the first person who’s ever come because of it.”

I was at a loss for words. This novel had spread twelve years ago. Considering when it was actually written, probably even longer than that. Even if I started searching now, we were talking about a scale of decades, at the very least...

”That’s exactly the problem. Without any information, you can’t search for someone whose name and face you don’t even know. Even the best method I could come up with ended in this.”

A method he’d spent this much time devising. No, he’d probably tried countless other methods before this too, and failed every time.

”...I just want to go home.”

Old Man Beard’s fist clenched tight, trembling on his knee.

”I have a grandchild, just turned four, always hugging me and calling me grandpa...”

Frustration welled up in his eyes, wetting his lap. I didn’t really understand that feeling of wanting to go home. Even if I went back to my old world, there wasn’t really anywhere for me to go back to. More than wanting to go home, I just wanted to escape from a world constantly bordering on death, into somewhere safe and peaceful...

”Huh...”

Tears ran down my cheeks. More than I could hold back even with my hand pressed against my face.

”Why? I don’t even have anything back in my old world...”

”You can’t lie to your own heart.”

Even crying himself, Old Man Beard held out a handkerchief to me.

”I’m not... lying about anything.”

”Yes, you are. Is there really nothing you left behind?”

Wiping my tears with the handkerchief, I closed my eyes and thought back. My mother who’d passed away, my father who’d disappeared, the boss at the company that had fired me. As those unpleasant memories played out in my mind, gentler memories slowly started surfacing too, one after another. The first one to come to mind was of my mother.

”Come to think of it, I hadn’t visited her grave in a while. I wanted to see her again before I died...”

An old friend from high school I used to drink with often.

”He probably would’ve listened to whatever was bothering me. Might’ve actually taken it seriously.”

There were plenty of other people who’d supported me too. And if I’d lost my job, I could’ve gone looking for my father, wherever he’d disappeared to. There were still so many things I hadn’t gotten around to finishing.

”I... want to go home.”

This was arrogant of me. Wanting to go back to a world I’d been ready to throw away myself, that was asking for way too much. But no matter how twisted the logic, no matter how much I’d be criticized for it, I was going home. I was absolutely going to make it home!

”Good eyes you’ve got there. I believe you’re the one who can finally break through in this world. For that, I’ll help you with everything I’ve got. I might not be much for physical action, but I can lend you my wisdom.”

Old Man Beard readjusted his glasses and suddenly stood up.

”Let me show you something worthwhile.”

He raised his right arm, palm facing upward. The air began swirling, and the gathering wind slowly formed into a beautiful, visible sphere. Keeping the sphere intact, he opened the window and shot it straight out. The sphere tore into a nearby tree, uprooting it completely from the base.

”...You’re actually pretty strong, huh, Old Man Beard.”

”No, I’m only level 2. On the weaker end, even among ordinary people.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. It looked like a simple spell, but the power behind it was like a cannon blast. And yet from what I’d heard, level 2 was supposed to be roughly average for an ordinary person.

”That was... level 2...”

”If you’re unlucky, there are even children out there capable of magic stronger than that.”

...Wait, so that means. That bratty kid I’d chased off back at the plaza could’ve potentially unleashed something like a cannon blast at me too. Not even remotely funny as a joke.

”You’re... actually pretty weak yourself, aren’t you?”

”Uh... well, that’s...”

”No need to hide it. These glasses I’m wearing are custom made. They can measure an opponent’s strength up to a certain point... but you’re too low to even register.”

Hearing it stated that plainly made me want to grit my teeth, even though I already knew it deep down. It felt like being told, ”you’re weak, there’s nothing to be done, just give up.” But contrary to what I expected, Old Man Beard offered up a possible way forward.

”That said, magic isn’t quite as all powerful as it looks.”

He lit a tiny flame, about the size of a match, on his fingertip.

”A person’s strong magic is, essentially, limited to one type. For me, it’s wind magic, that’s my primary, personal magic. But when it comes to weaker spells, some people can handle a whole variety of them. Think of these as supporting the main type, subtypes, so to speak. In my case, alongside wind blasts, I can also use this small flame.”

He blew out the flame on his fingertip and sat back down in his chair.

”In other words, there’s no such thing as some all knowing, all powerful being who can do absolutely everything. Fire, douse it with water. Earth, climb to higher ground. Water, run electricity through it. Understand? The strongest weapon in this world is information. Know your opponent, that’s the only way to find a way through.”

I started to see a little bit of hope. Seeing my expression, Old Man Beard grinned broadly, uncrossed his arms, and stood back up.

”...Let me give you something good.”

He stepped up onto a stool and reached toward the top of a closet, pulling down a wooden box.

”...What’s that?”

”Before I hand this over, there’s one thing I need to teach you.”

Saying that, Old Man Beard drew a magic circle onto a stone displayed on the wall. A beautiful stone, glowing red.

”Pretty stone.”

”That’s called a heat ore. Not a rare stone at all in this world, used in things like stoves. Here, try holding it.”

I casually took hold of the stone he offered.

”Ow!! Hot!?”

The instant I touched it, an intense heat hit me, and I dropped the stone onto the floor. It felt exactly like grabbing the lid off a piping hot pot. There was no way I could keep holding it in my hand. Yet Old Man Beard picked the fallen stone back up with a completely neutral expression.

”...Isn’t that hot for you?”

”Ah, that’s just heat from a magic tool.”

That made no sense at all. As if reading right through my confusion, Old Man Beard grinned in an almost mischievous way.

”Heh heh, sorry about that. This is a kind of magic every single person in this world is born with from the start. Officially, it’s called a magic barrier.”

Hearing the word ”barrier,” I pictured something like a shield wrapped around the body.

”To put it simply... let’s see. Think of magic power like sound.”

Old Man Beard taped a large sheet of paper to the wall and started sketching a rather cute little diagram.

”First, imagine you’re wearing headphones listening to music. The greater someone’s magic power, the bigger and more noise cancelling their headphones. And any outside noise represents magic coming from elsewhere.”

He drew a stick figure and a musical note, continuing the explanation.

”Protected by your own music, you can block out noise you don’t want to hear. Of course, there’s a limit to how much this can do.”

”...So basically?”

At my question, Old Man Beard blinked once, cleared his throat firmly, and continued.

”What do you think would be an effective attack against someone wearing headphones?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, I racked my brain.

”Don’t know? The answer’s simple. You just hit them.”

”Wait, I don’t get...”

I turned the idea over in my head, trying to make sense of it. Anyway, going by this explanation, sound represented magic power. If you tried attacking with sound, the headphones would block it, so instead you just hit them physically.

”So, um, basically, punching wins in the end?”

”Not quite. As I just showed you, magic itself is genuinely powerful. Think of it like the enemy throwing an actual sonic bomb at you.”

Well then that doesn’t work either. Just as I was about to point that out, Old Man Beard reached for the lid of the box he’d set down earlier.

”Guess that made it more confusing instead. Well, this world runs almost entirely on magic. Beyond that, people, objects, animals, everything is saturated with magic power. Which is exactly why anything completely devoid of magic power can’t be defended against. Which means you can land a hit that completely bypasses any defense.”

Old Man Beard opened the dusty box with a faintly nostalgic look on his face.

”Of course, this thing is far from the strongest weapon out there. But I believe you’re the one who can put it to proper use. Trusting in that, I’ll entrust this to you.”

What came out of the box. A silver form, with a black grip. A silhouette straight out of a western film, dripping with a certain romantic charm.

”...A revolver!?”

”Magic barriers don’t matter against this. Used well, it might just let you land a solid hit even against someone far stronger than you.”

”But why do you even have something like this...”

In answer, Old Man Beard pointed at my bag. ...Right. Whatever you’re carrying when you die comes along with you. America’s a gun culture country. Not strange at all that he’d have kept one for self defense.

”Listen carefully, don’t put too much faith in this thing.”

Old Man Beard pulled his jacket up sharply. Underneath were deep claw marks etched into his side.

”Got this from a monster I couldn’t finish off, even after putting three rounds into it.”

”Three rounds means...”

”Yeah, this revolver holds six rounds. Three are left, no spares. When the moment really counts, pull the trigger without hesitation, but don’t overestimate what it can do.”

That sounded like a fairly reckless gamble. But this weapon was an incredibly reassuring one to have.

”I’ll make good use of it, thank you.”

”Ah, right. If you ever end up dying and coming back here again, call out my name.”

”Um, Old Man Beard?”

”No, my real name is Peter Dixon. I haven’t given that name to anyone in over a hundred years, keeping it ready for whenever another reincarnate shows up.”

”I see. So if someone shows up already knowing that name, that means they’re a reincarnate who’s already been through a retry.”

”Right, simple and easy to remember, even for an old man.”

Old Man Beard laughed, looking rather pleased with himself. I still hadn’t learned the secret behind this world, but between the crucial information and the weapon, it had still been a huge gain.

”Well, I should get going soon. Thank you for everything.”

I bowed deeply once more. Old Man Beard reached out gently toward me.

”...Do your best, alright.”

”Yes.”

The two of us shook hands firmly. I tucked the gun away in my bag and turned my back on Old Man Beard’s house, walking away.

Whatever Old Man Beard meant by ”do your best” probably carried all sorts of meaning packed into it. The path ahead was unclear. But I’d keep going. No telling what I’d run into. But I’d keep going. No telling how many more times I’d die from here on out. But I’d keep going. To go home. To make it back to my original world. No matter what, I was going to live through this.

”Even if I die, I’m making it back alive!!”

My voice echoed up into the sky. Who might have heard it, I couldn’t say. Somewhere, a certain boy smiled to himself.

This is the story of a man with no skill, average reflexes at best, no special talent to speak of, and not even the faintest grasp of magic, at the weakest level imaginable, fighting, surviving, and striving to escape this world.

A trivial, unremarkable story like that.