Chapter 201: Genesis

  “So. What now?”

  Prota barely registered Anta’s words. She hadn’t been this out of shape in ages.

  Well, that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Ages ago. This was, in [Story] terms, the start of her story.

  Her body was a complete mess. She barely had any muscle, she was completely malnourished, and she had no mana to help with any of that. Come to think of it, she had spent a literal year simply recovering. Not becoming a combat maniac, not developing into the fighter that could rival John, but recovery.

  Just bringing her body back to a healthy state.

  “Hey! Prota! Did you hear me?”

  The words came through a little clearer this time. Prota’s head snapped up, her chest heaving as she struggled to breathe.

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “...no.”

  “Ugh. Great. I suppose we could’ve thought this through a little more… well, this should help you feel better.”

  A faint light shone as Prota’s cloak, staff and ring fell out of the air. Right, warmth. Prota quickly put the cloak on, and the climate control function quickly kicked in. Slowly, the cold and wet of the rain faded away, replaced by a comforting heat that made its way into the core of her body.

  Even with this, though, it wasn’t enough to help her body recover. Potions or charms wouldn’t help, either.

  In the end, she needed nutrition and exercise. The exercise would be easy enough. After all, she wouldn’t feel the pain that came along with it.

  But getting food was its own issue.

  “I’ll leave to you, I guess,” Anta sighed. “I need to rest a little. Get moving, alright?”

  Prota nodded, then remembered she was the only one who could hear Anta’s voice. Shaking her head, she continued to limp down the streets.

  Even without the pain, her progress was painfully slow. It’d been so long since she’d felt like this that she’d forgotten what it was like to be weak. Her legs giving out underneath her weight. Her breath, restricted and heavy, struggling to take in air from the simple action of walking. Her arms, barely able to hold the staff in her hands.

  She desperately wanted food.

  “...the bar,” she muttered.

  Suddenly, thoughts of food vanished from her mind. She knew she wasn’t supposed to approach John, but… what if?

  What if it’d all been a bad dream? What if…

  It wasn’t realistic. But Prota’s desperation overcame her logic. Slowly, she navigated the streets, only to wind up lost.

  The system. If she could just use the system…

  But the system was gone.

  “It’s not there,” Anta said suddenly. “You can’t [Reset], either. The [Destiny Bond] was disconnected. If you want it back… well, you know what you need to do, right?”

  Prota nodded again. Still, she was determined to find the bar. Slowly but surely, she made her way through the streets until she recognized where she was, then made her way to where her mind said the Lucky Myth was.

  It was poetic, in a sense. In both timelines, she’d received this cloak. In both timelines, she’d struggled to even make it to shelter. But that thought alone was enough to keep her going.

  “...gone.”

  Prota fell to her knees.

  The bar was gone. There wasn’t even a sign to indicate that it’d opened in the first place. The place was completely deserted, not a trace of life remaining.

  “That’s… I’m sorry, Prota,” Anta said sadly. “But you wouldn’t have believed me if I told you.”

  Prota opened her mouth, ready to argue, but then held back. Anta was right. She wouldn’t have believed the soul. She would have gone stubbornly anyway, and the result would’ve been the same.

  “Still, it’s empty. We can spend the night in here,” Anta continued. “...it’s better than nothing.”

  Prota nodded in agreement, pushing through. Upon opening the door, she stumbled to her knees, her strength giving out.

  “Rest,” Anta said as Prota crawled in.

  The floor was dusty but otherwise clean. It was smooth, hard, but better than sleeping on the streets. Paired with the cloak…

  “Nn,” Prota nodded, her eyes already closing.

  She couldn’t do anything if she was exhausted. How pathetic. Defeated, not by an enemy or trial, but by her body’s condition.

  But she knew what she was getting into. In the end, her resolve remained the same.

  That night was filled with a dreamless sleep.

  ~~~

  “What do we have here?”

  Prota’s eyes snapped open, flinching as she scrambled for her staff. She immediately scurried back, holding her weapon out before her, the mana in her core gathering for the single icicle she could cast.

  Still, as her vision slowly swam into focus, she thought the silhouette before her seemed familiar.

  She couldn’t quite make out the person’s face, but those features… they looked so familiar.

  That hunched over back. That stout figure. Long, braided hair, hands clasped behind the back, a somewhat lopsided gait…

  “Jinae?” she muttered, her voice weak.

  “...not many know that name,” the old lady chuckled.

  Still, she immediately became wary. Her hands came up ever so slightly in a defensive stance, and Prota could see the mana gathering at her fingertips.

  Right. This wasn’t the Jinae she knew. This wasn’t the Jinae who’d shown her incredible magic, the one who’d defended her from terrible monsters, the Jinae who had guided her through a terrible lab and helped her find the truth.

  This wasn’t even the Jinae who had sacrificed her life to keep Prota alive. To keep Prota going. The Jinae who’d taught Prota magic. The Jinae who’d first introduced the beauty of mana to her.

  And it wasn’t the Jinae who knew Prota, the little girl, sister of John. Nothing more, nothing less, just a strange man’s broken family.

  No.

  This Jinae did not know Prota at all. The name “Prota” did not ring any bells, did not bring up fond memories…

  There was nothing at all.

  For a moment, Prota felt a deep and terrible despair. Who was Jinae? Or, perhaps the better question was what? What was Jinae? Was Jinae the head of some mystical organization with the ability to unravel magic into mana? Was she Prota’s mentor? Was she the old lady who sold food in a stall on the side of the road? Or was she just a stranger?

  Prota didn’t know.

  She knew this woman. Or did she? That remained to be seen.

  All those memories, good and bad, gone in the blink of an eye.

  Suddenly, Prota wanted to give up. Not because the crushing weight of reality was too much, but because she understood John a bit better.

  What was the point in companionship? In family? In friends? One battle, one war, and you might [Reset] into a timeline where all your accomplishments and relationships disappeared, just like that. Prota had struggled for nearly four years, nine if her time unconscious counted, and for what?

  For this? To lose everyone she’d ever cared about? To start from the beginning, to build her way up all over again?

  What was the point?

  Still, one thought cleared her head. One thought pushed her to her goal.

  Even if [Resetting] here was a terrible curse, she couldn’t let it be for nothing. She couldn’t let all this pain, all this suffering, she couldn’t let it be for naught.

  She’d [Reset] for a reason. She’d had the opportunity to live a good life, but she’d chosen to keep her memories intact instead.

  “John,” she wheezed, trying to sit up. “You… you know John.”

  “...who? Surely you’re not just throwing out names, young one,” Jinae frowned.

  She drew up a dusty chair and brushed it off with her hand, carefully taking a seat. The legs creaked but ultimately held her weight, and she looked at Prota as if observing a strange specimen.

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  “Just what are you? I thought I sensed something interesting in this deserted building, but… it’s just a young child.”

  Prota’s heart sank. Everything lined up. John truly wasn’t here. The world had changed completely.

  But, in a last-ditch effort, her mind came up with an excuse. It wasn’t the most thought-out, although it had some credibility. However, it was what she needed to stay sane.

  To push through.

  Jinae was pretending. Obviously, the truth of the world was not so easily discussed. Thus, she would pretend not to know John in order to hide her secret.

  “Um… who are you?” Prota said timidly.

  For now, she needed food and shelter. She wasn’t sure how quickly John would act, but she definitely couldn’t fight him in this state. Hell, she wouldn’t be able to fight a John with no powers in this state. Any child her age could easily beat her up if they really wanted to.

  “Hm… maybe I misheard. Are you alone, little one?” Jinae said, looking kindly.

  That, at least, hadn’t changed.

  “Nn,” Prota nodded.

  “Come with me. Children shouldn’t be left in this state. Although, I suppose it’s not uncommon…” Jinae said, clicking her tongue. “Do you have no parents? No family?”

  Family. Prota wanted to say yes. Desperately so.

  “No,” she said quietly.

  “Strange, very strange,” Jinae sighed. “Well, what are you waiting for? I’ll treat you to a meal.”

  Prota stood up, albeit a little unsteadily, but she managed.

  She would manage.

  She didn’t have any other choice.

  ~~~

  Surprisingly, Jinae took Prota in for far longer than she’d expected. Of course, things were a little different now.

  For one, she didn’t introduce herself as Jinae. She claimed to be Uriel, an old lady living alone.

  Another difference was that she was no longer running her stall. In fact, Prota didn’t know what Jinae did. The old lady would occasionally head out without a word, telling Prota to stay still. Of course, Prota did as she was told, but she often wondered where Jinae was going.

  Still, she was being fed well, and she now had a warm bed to sleep in. She’d washed up, of course, but the dirt and grime no longer surprised her. Neither did the bruises.

  Whenever Jinae wasn’t around, she’d use mana recovery with what little resources she had, trying to strengthen her body. And, to her credit, it was working. She wasn’t recovering all that quickly, but she was definitely improving without a strict diet and training regimen.

  Of course, she’d nearly slipped up the first few times she’d tried to recover. Anta was the one who’d come to her rescue.

  “Are you crazy?” the soul had hissed in her ear. “You can’t let her know we can use mana.”

  “But…”

  “That’s Jinae. But that’s not the Jinae we know. She was friendly to us because of John, but that’s no longer the case. She took us in for another reason, and to be honest, you should have figured out what that reason was by now.”

  “...huh?”

  “I can’t tell you. You’re just going to have to figure it out on your own. If you don’t… whatever. But no magic in front of her, understood? You’re a sick, frail child. Got it?”

  Of course, Prota didn’t immediately get it, but Anta was always quick to remind her. Strangely enough, Jinae never noticed the little girl suddenly flinching or jumping at random, but then again, given her condition, perhaps it wasn’t the strangest of things for Prota to do.

  Like that, the days passed. It was definitely a tense moment, but as she settled into a rhythm, she began to relax. This iteration of Jinae seemed to bear no ill will against Prota, and was letting her stay and eat for free.

  A month later, Prota was starting to feel well. Repeated use of mana recovery was slowly helping her core grow, and it was helping her body heal faster as well. Since her bodily functions weren’t as focused on recovering from more present injuries, they could focus on recovering other parts instead, and combined with the accelerated healing time of mana recovery, she was on track to be “normal” within a year.

  And it happened. No tricks, no twists, just a slow but steady recovery that ultimately resulted in Prota being back to normal far faster than she’d been in her previous life.

  “...can I leave?” she said one day.

  “Hm?” Jinae, who’d been eating breakfast, turned to her. “Is something making you uncomfortable?”

  “Oh. Ah… um… not permanently,” Prota tried to explain. “Just… go outside.”

  “Of course!” Jinae laughed. “This isn’t a jail, you know. Feel free to come and go as you please.”

  With that, Prota began to venture out. She kept her hood up most of the time, and thankfully, no one seemed to recognize her.

  Her purpose for leaving the home was twofold. The first was to sap the mana from the dozens of citizens walking around her at all times. Now that her Soul Steal was under control, she could use it in this city without drawing attention.

  With this, she could cast mana recovery much more often. In Jinae’s house, she’d only been able to draw from her staff, and she’d done so sparingly, as it seemed to lack most of the mana it had held before. Now, however, she could both take bits of mana here and there, not only casting mana recovery, but refilling her staff as well.

  The second reason for coming out was to see if she could gather any hints as to what was going on. She understood that John wasn’t at his bar, but surely he was here somewhere. Or, if not, there was a chance rumours of his existence were floating around. The chances were slim, but there was no reason to just sit around and do nothing.

  However, the city was far different than what Prota had imagined. It was still clean. Still relatively peaceful. But there was a sense of unease she hadn’t noticed the last time she was here. Adventurers seemed to be on guard rather than cheerful and carefree. The walking pace of citizens was hurried rather than leisurely.

  They were small differences. But they were differences nonetheless.

  The most obvious change, however, was the mentions of disappearing children, and of cultists.

  Cultists.

  In her previous life, cultists had been the main antagonists for quite some time. However, cultists had not been the enemy in this city. So what were people talking about? Why was that group of people suddenly being brought up?

  She suddenly began to feel nervous. Normally, the mention of cultists wouldn’t have scared her, but she was weak now. She could easily be defeated, and without a second life, that would mean game over. Of course, these cultists had no reason to target her specifically…

  Or did they?

  Sure, children were being kidnapped. But Prota was one child out of many. What were the odds she would be the one to get taken? She just had to stay in crowds, avoid going off on her own, and she’d be fine.

  The more pressing problem was why they were here to begin with. From what she remembered, Vulcan was an incredibly safe city with no mention of cultists at all. So what was going on?

  “You’re not the brightest, huh?” she heard Anta say.

  Prota wanted to be mad, but she found that, when hearing Anta’s voice, she couldn’t. Perhaps this was what John felt toward Zero? Regardless, there was something she was clearly missing.

  “Hm… oh. Well, maybe I was a little harsh,” Anta snickered. “John never taught you the butterfly effect, did he?”

  Butterfly effect. She vaguely recalled hearing him mention those words once or twice, but… no, she didn’t know what that was.

  Butterfly? She knew what those were. Pretty little things, quite fascinating to watch as they fluttered around, bright and vibrant colours flying through the air. But what did that have to do with her current situation, or anything at all, really?

  “Alright. Keep moving, by the way,” Anta continued, her tone a little more serious.

  Prota nodded, pushing on into the crowd, wandering aimlessly. Of course, she was focused enough to avoid bumping into people, but otherwise she was busy listening.

  “The saying is that the wings of a butterfly can cause a tornado. Or something like that,” Anta said after a pause. “The point is, it’s this complicated thing where one tiny action can make a big impact later on.”

  “...ok,” Prota said slowly.

  It wasn’t that it didn’t make sense, but Prota didn’t really understand what that would look like. And besides, how was that applicable here?

  “Fine. Um… I’m not really good at coming up with examples… ah! Remember that version of you we saw in the illusion?”

  Prota nodded. That was a scary thing to think about, what she could’ve become. That alternate version of her was something she never hoped to see again. A Prota with such angry eyes, with such hatred in her heart…

  Ah.

  “Oh, great, you get it now. So I don’t have to finish explaining now, right?”

  Prota nodded again.

  That was a prime example of the butterfly effect. If John had never met her, that would be what she would have become. Obviously, the two meeting was a relatively minor event. It hadn’t caused a huge impact on the world. All it had been was a quiet encounter in a side alley on a rainy day.

  But it had led to such an incredible ending.

  The flap of a butterfly’s wings, creating a tornado elsewhere.

  Well, that was great. But what was Prota supposed to do with this information? She still didn’t quite get how it was applicable. Of course, she assumed it had something to do with the cultists, given that Anta was bringing it up, but she didn’t quite see the clues that would allow her to make the connection.

  “Fine, I’ll spell it out for you,” she heard Anta sigh. “How much do you remember of John’s backstory?”

  “...Earth?” Prota said with a faint frown.

  “No, no, not that. Right before he met you. Do you remember what he was doing?”

  Prota closed her eyes and thought hard. She remembered that he’d been a bartender, but…

  Oh. There was that.

  “Um… subjugation,” she nodded.

  Suddenly, everything was clear.

  John had been involved in subjugating a section of cultists. From what she remembered, Hestia and the others had always spoken very highly of him, saying that he’d saved their lives on numerous occasions.

  Then, if he wasn’t running the bar, it was possible he wasn’t in Vulcan.

  And if he wasn’t in Vulcan…

  “Right,” Anta said. “That group never got subjugated.”

  “...what about…”

  There was silence in her mind.

  Prota wasn’t naive. She wasn’t so stupid as to believe that her old mentors had somehow survived. But what if they’d never taken on the request? What if…

  “I’m sorry,” Anta apologized. “I’m not Zero. I don’t know how the [Plot] works and stuff. So… I don’t know. I suppose you could ask, but… maybe it’s best to just leave it unknown.”

  Right. There was no need to make herself depressed. All she could do was carry on as best she could.

  Suddenly, Prota looked around. She had no clue where she was. Her surroundings were that of a side alley, dark and somewhat dirty, but otherwise unrecognizable.

  Just where had she ended up?

  She made a disgruntled noise, turning around to leave, but—

  “What’s this?”

  There were two men standing in her way. Her body began to move, but her mind and body weren’t quite synced up yet. She expected to dodge, but her muscles weren’t at the level where she could move in time.

  A heavy club smashed into her side, and she blacked out.

  ~~~

  Prota slowly blinked her eyes open, finding herself in a strange, dark room. She blinked a few more times, vision swimming into focus, only to find that she seemed to be in a cell.

  “...where?” Prota muttered, sitting up.

  Her hands were in some kind of heavy handcuffs that were chained to the ground. She could worry about that later. For now, she was trying to regain her bearings.

  She’d been walking around, talking to Anta, and…

  “The cultists got you, idiot,” her soul laughed. “And you knew not to walk into dark alleyways.”

  “Nn.” Prota just shook her head.

  She didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Alright. How are we getting out of here?”

  Prota hesitated, then summoned a fireball. It wasn’t hot enough for what she needed, though. Thankfully, it seemed she still had all her items on her, including her staff, so she withdrew some mana and refined the fireball until it was like a knife made of magma. It sliced through the cuffs, and they fell to the ground with a clatter.

  The same method was used to break the lock, and Prota burst out.

  Immediately, she found herself in a hallway full of cell doors. They might’ve had children behind them as well, but she had no time to check.

  “Over there!” she heard.

  Immediately, two men came running in, brandishing weapons. Prota clenched her teeth. She wasn’t sure if she could beat them in her current state.

  “...fine,” she heard Anta say.

  She had no clue what the soul was talking about.

  “I guess I’ll help you out one more time.”

  Suddenly, Prota felt a strange energy invading her body. At first, she tried to resist.

  “Idiot. It’s me. Just let go for a second, won’t you?”

  For a moment, Prota was stunned, but that moment of hesitation was enough. She felt as if her spirit were leaving her body. No, that was literally what was happening.

  She looked down to see she had taken on a spectral form. Her colours and shape were still the same, but she was now floating around, intangible and semi-transparent.

  Looking back at herself, she saw that a few changes had been made. For one, the expression on her face was now an aggressive frown, an expression that had not once been present at any time in her life. The second was that the inner lining of her hair, once blue, was now red. Finally, her eyes, just like her hair, had changed hue.

  Anta. It was Anta. What had she said?

  “Hm… still a little tricky for someone to tell us apart… then how about this?”

  Was this the reason she’d made this change?

  “Alright, Prota,” she heard in her mind.

  Was this what it was like to be a soul? Prota wasn’t sure, but this felt natural, as if she’d been a soul all her life. She let go, and her spirit form disappeared, her vision once again taking place within her body. All her senses were back. She could see what Anta saw, feel what Anta felt…

  They were essentially the same person.

  “One more time. I’ll help you out.”