The other side of Reincarnation

　I found Eris and Elaine together that evening, the whole weight of my own impulsive promise still sitting heavy in my chest.

”I need your help,” I said, direct. ”I think I just promised to rebuild an entire kingdom, and I have no idea how to actually do that.”

　Eris laughed, warm despite the gravity of the situation, reaching over to pat my head with exaggerated fondness.

”There he goes again. Promising things before thinking them through.”

”I heard that,” I said, dry.

”You were meant to,” she said, entirely unrepentant.

　Nyxara, who had apparently decided this was an excellent time to visit, watched the exchange with open, delighted amusement.

”He still thinks he has Arcane Creation,” she said, to no one in particular. ”Adorable, really.”

...Right. I don’t have that anymore. Forgot, apparently, in the heat of my own dramatic promise.

　Enzo, standing nearby, looked entirely unbothered by any of it—proud, if anything, without a trace of guilt for what had started this whole situation.

”I would suggest,” Anti-Subconsciousness offered, cutting through the teasing, ”that Elaine use her own creation magic, supplied with Null mana directly from you.”

”Is that even possible?” I asked.

”Since Elaine is connected to you through the name you gave her,” it explained, ”you can supply her with any amount of Null mana required. The limitation would not be power. It would be her creation magic’s own current capacity to actually use that power at the necessary scale.”

　I turned to Elaine.

”Would that work?”

”It’s not that it’s impossible,” she said, careful. ”The amount of anti-mana required to rebuild an entire kingdom is comparable to what a high-ranking dragon like Enzo would need to provide. Enzo could theoretically do this himself, if he wished.”

”I refuse,” Enzo said, simple. ”Their king insulted Kai. I won’t lift a finger to undo the consequences of that insult on his behalf.”

Fair, honestly, given everything. Doesn’t solve my actual problem, though.

　Then I remembered something.

”Wait—the people I’ve named don’t have anti-mana anymore. They have Null mana. That changes things, doesn’t it?”

”It does,” Elaine said, something thoughtful crossing her expression. ”Though there’s still another problem. I don’t know if creation magic, even supplied with unlimited Null, is actually capable of rebuilding something this scale. I’ve never attempted anything close to it.”

”I have a suggestion,” Anti-Subconsciousness said. ”Kai could grant Elaine a skill that would evolve her creation magic into something considerably stronger.”

”Wait,” I said. ”You can actually do that? Give someone a new skill directly?”

”Yes,” Anti-Subconsciousness confirmed.

”What skill?” I asked.

”Genesis Core,” it said. ”A skill born from Null mana itself.”

　I turned to Elaine.

”I want to give you this. If you’re willing.”

　She stared at me, genuinely stunned, and beside her, Eris and the others went equally quiet.

”You’re serious,” Elaine said, finally.

”Completely,” I said.

　She knelt before me, closing her eyes, the same formal solemnity she’d shown the night I first gave her the name Elaine.

　I stretched my hand forward, just above her.

”Do you wish to gift the individual known as Elaine the skill Genesis Core?” Anti-Subconsciousness asked.

”Yes,” I said.

　Null mana particles began flowing from my hand into her, visible, radiant, unlike anything I’d done before.

　Even Nyxara—a primordial demon who had lived since the very beginning of things—went utterly silent, her own expectations visibly shattering in real time.

　Ivy’s own composure slipped, just slightly, watching the working unfold.

”Elaine’s creation magic has fused with Genesis Core,” Anti-Subconsciousness reported, ”evolving into Authority of Genesis.”

　Her aura shifted.

　Deepened.

　Something ancient and vast settled into it that hadn’t been there a moment before.

　She opened her eyes.

”It’s done,” I said, quiet, still slightly disbelieving myself.

”Thank you,” Elaine said, once she’d fully steadied herself, something reverent in the simple words.

　Nyxara, silent through most of the aftermath, finally spoke, mostly to herself.

This toy is more interesting than I gave him credit for.

　The room settled, practical matters taking over once more.

”Let’s prepare to head to the site,” I said. ”Time to actually see if this works.”

　We got fortunate news that same day—Myrath’s prince, Sieg, had not been present with the army that Enzo destroyed.

　He’d survived, quietly grieving, considerably more grounded than his father had apparently ever been.

　I invited him to Horizoncrest personally, and we spoke at length about what rebuilding his kingdom would actually mean—under Horizoncrest’s protection, but his people’s own to govern, going forward.

　Enzo, listening nearby, offered his own blunt commentary.

”If you become a ruler like your father, I will erase the kingdom again.”

”He’s joking,” I said quickly, watching Sieg’s face go pale.

”I am only partially joking,” Enzo said.

　Nyxara, sighing, simply grabbed him by the collar and dragged him bodily out of the room like a misbehaving child, while Eris calmly poured tea for everyone else as though nothing unusual had happened at all.

　Once Sieg had agreed, properly, to the arrangement, I gathered the final group—myself, Ace, Ivy, Eris, Sieg, and Elaine—and teleported us all to the empty crater where Myrath’s capital had once stood.

　Enzo remained behind, per Nyxara’s own insistence that he’d caused quite enough excitement for one week.