Chapter 202: The Wings of a Butterfly

  Anta took on a strange stance, her legs relaxed yet warm, holding her hands out in front of her, palm out but ready to strike. It was somewhat reminiscent of the way John prepared to fight, albeit more trained and professional. Relaxed but confident, displaying minimal signs of practice, yet giving off the atmosphere of incredibly prepared nonetheless.

  “I know you don’t like making contact with other people,” Anta said out loud. “But I don’t have that problem.”

  “...how does that help?” Prota wondered.

  “Well… I’m sure you could make it through this fight as well,” Anta shrugged, rolling her neck. “But to be honest, you’re not used to this body yet. I don’t really seem to have that issue? And… well, you’ll see. There’s an easier way to deal with these kinds of guys than magic. Don’t get me wrong, your method is fine, too. But sometimes…”

  Her mouth curved up into a sadistic grin, mana flowing through her body.

  “You gotta get a little rough.”

  Immediately, Prota felt her body use mana reinforcement. Once. Twice. Her core was empty, but Soul Steal lashed out, drawing the mana from the cultists before them. Three. Four. Five.

  Prota had discovered this method shortly before her final [Reset], but hadn’t made much use of it. It wasn’t like it was hard to do. It was simply a matter of whether or not you could jam more mana into your body. Given that she had a rough understanding of anatomy, she was able to cram mana into her skin, her muscles, her bones, her various bodily systems, so on and so forth, resulting in a far stronger and more durable body.

  Simply put, it was part of the technique Lupin taught.

  Still, that didn’t help. To begin with, her problem had never been durability or strength, but rather mental fatigue, and that was something mana reinforcement didn’t help with. She never needed to be all that much faster or stronger, and maintaining such a state took a toll on her mind, meaning she could cast mana less often.

  But the feeling was somewhat addictive. Right now, she felt like she could do anything.

  Of course, that wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t the one piloting this body.

  “Uh… should we do something? Why’s the kid talking to herself?” one of the cultists said, scratching the back of his head.

  “Dunno. They go crazy sometimes,” the other shrugged. “Let’s just knock her out and put her back in the cell-”

  Before he could finish speaking, Anta flew forward at a frightening speed, the joints of her fingers jabbing into one cultist’s throat. He immediately gagged, doubling over, but Anta was already moving, her body twisting in the air. An explosive roundhouse kick struck the man’s head, a fireball exploding on impact, giving Anta the momentum to spin the other way.

  “What the- hey!” the other cultist yelled, but Anta was faster.

  She bounced off the wall, making use of the narrow corridor, making a beeline straight for the other enemy. To his credit, he managed to raise his club, but it didn’t matter.

  Instead of aiming for the neck again, Anta went down, her legs kicking out in a sweeping motion. With the empowered strength of mana reinforcement, even her small and frail body knocked the man off his feet.

  “Ah- help!” he yelled, but it was too late.

  She jumped up, flipping as ice formed at her feet, forming in a cone-like shape. Her hands reached up, pushing off the ceiling as she came crashing down, driving the point into the man’s head. It split open as the ice shattered under Anta’s weight, killing him instantly.

  “Of course, your method works fine too,” Anta said, panting a little.

  Still, she seemed incredibly undisturbed for how violently she’d dispatched the two men.

  “It’s just that your mind is gonna get tired real quick,” she continued, picking up the man’s club. “This uses a lot less mana. Of course, it needs a setup. But once I’m fighting, the mana reinforcement stays. Well, I mean, we’re at a higher risk of getting hurt. But it’s not like that’s a problem, right?”

  Prota couldn’t help but agree. It was definitely a more efficient form of fighting, especially in the current state their body was in. However…

  “You don’t have to learn this,” Anta said, sensing her other self’s discontent. “Look, just because I show you something doesn’t mean you have to do it too, right? I already told you. Your dear sister is joining you on this adventure. Did you think I was going to sit around and be useless? We’re stuck together now.”

  She began to move, heading in the direction the cultists had come from.

  “I… I wasn’t able to help you nearly enough in your past life,” Anta said, her voice taking on a more wistful tone. “But that’s changing this time. You shouldn’t ever have to bear the weight of everything on your own. Always make sure you’ve got someone to lean on, got it?”

  “But… John-”

  “Staying alone is how that idiot ended up where he is now,” Anta said with disgust. “Don’t you get it? He tried to push us away. Look at where he is now.”

  Prota felt a little uncomfortable. Yes, that was true, but at the same time…

  “That’s why we’re gonna find him and beat some sense into him,” Anta continued, a fierce grin on her face. “We’re gonna show him that he can’t just throw us away. Right?”

  For the first time in a while, Prota felt incredibly hopeful.

  Right. She wasn’t alone. She’d never been alone. If what Anta was saying was true, she had always had someone by her side. Had she truly been alone, she would have perished long ago.

  But she hadn’t given up.

  “Alright!” Anta yelled, barging through a wooden door. “Let’s do it!”

  Immediately, both Prota and Anta noticed a giant set of spikes hanging above a door to the right. There were two cultists sitting on some barrels, but otherwise, the room was clear.

  “What the- how’d you get out of there?” one of them yelled.

  Too late. Anta’s eyes flashed as she stole their mana, immediately using it to push herself with a gust of wind, allowing her to practically fly through the air. The club she was holding immediately coated itself with flames, and she brought it crashing down on a cultist’s head, cracking his skull.

  “What the- no kid is that strong!” the other one yelled, almost tripping over himself as he tried to back up. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Your worst nightmare,” Anta grinned.

  Ice coated her hand until it had practically formed a blade, and she took off once more. The cultist managed to fire off a fireball, but Anta simply punched through it, dispelling the thing with sheer force and pushing through. The ice pierced through the man’s neck, and he made a sick gurgling noise as he fell to the ground, drowning in his own blood.

  “You don’t feel sympathy for these guys, right?” Anta said as she scanned the room.

  “Nn… no.”

  “Good. They’re pretty scummy. We should… It’d be a good idea to free the kids in the basement after this.”

  Suddenly, they heard a noise at the door. A rattling sound, like someone was breaking in. Anta’s head snapped over to take a look. Any second now, someone would walk in.

  The only question was…

  “An enemy?” Anta muttered. “Or someone trying to help?”

  The door opened, revealing a large woman with fiery red hair.

  “What the-”

  Prota felt panic shoot through her heart. “No!”

  Before she could even realize what had happened, she regained control of her body, immediately raising her hands as she froze the spikes above the door. There was a click as some kind of mechanism triggered, and while the ice budged a little, the person underneath remained unharmed.

  “...a kid?” Hestia frowned, looking over. “What… It’s too dark to see anything in here. I thought this was a cultist hideout. Who the hell are you?”

  “I-”

  “Let me take over again!” Anta hissed furiously.

  “But-”

  “You aren’t good at talking! That’s fine, but how are you going to explain the two dead bodies on the ground?”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Prota clenched her teeth, but ultimately, she let go.

  Anta was right. These weren’t the adventurers she remembered. They hadn’t trained her, nor had they fought by her side. The more she progressed in this life, the more she understood how much of a curse [Reset] was, not in its ability to make life seem tedious, but due to the fact that it quite literally changed the world.

  The companions you once knew would no longer be the companions by your side.

  Ultimately, all Hestia saw was a little girl standing in a room, and when she summoned a fireball, she would see that girl standing next to two bodies, their blood on her cloak and dress. If Prota had seen that, she would’ve attacked first and asked questions later. As much as she hated it, this was a time when she was useless. That might eventually change, but eventually was for the future, not the present.

  But Prota still felt an incredible sense of hope. The friends who had nurtured her, nursed her back to health, helped her in her revenge against the Wyntons…

  They were alive.

  But that joy, for now, had to be suppressed until this next hurdle was passed.

  So, when the fireball was inevitably lit, and the adventurers were able to get a good look at the room, it wasn’t Prota who was standing there.

  It was Anta, blood streaked on her thin face, wearing a fierce expression.

  “...are you a cultist?” another voice called out.

  Gorm.

  Right, he’d always been the more logical one of the group. If anyone were going to take things slow, it would be Gorm.

  “Why aren’t you attacking?” Anta called back.

  Everyone immediately flinched. Well, that made sense. No matter how mature either Anta or Prota was, they still had the voice and body of a young girl. That would change as the years passed, but for now, that soft, high-pitched tone would stay with them no matter how upset they were.

  Then, in contrast, the scene before everyone’s eyes made no sense at all.

  “...who are you?” Gale called out. “What is this place?”

  “This is a cultist hideout. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  “Well… yes,” Gale said.

  His sword was already out.

  “You’re not a normal kid, are you?”

  “No.”

  “...I understand.”

  Before anyone could react, Grey launched himself forward, knife at the ready, its tip already pointed at Anta’s throat. Even with all her mana reinforcement, she hadn’t been able to react.

  Well, such was the power of these adventurers. These were people who’d managed to deal with some incredibly strong cultists, after all.

  “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”

  Anta felt a bead of sweat dripping down the side of her face. “I’m not your enemy here.”

  “Yeah? Then why are you in the body of a child?”

  “...why is that something that matters to you?” Anta challenged. “Look around you. That’s two dead cultists, on the floor. If I’m an ally, should you really be fighting me?”

  Her manner of speaking wasn’t helping, but there was nothing they could do about that. The rough, rude pattern of speech didn’t fit the childlike tone her vocal chords produced, but Anta wasn’t going to humiliate herself just to get out of the situation.

  “Then what are you?” Grey said silently.

  For a moment, there was silence. Anta was hesitant to say her next words, not because she didn’t know what to say, but because there would be no going back once she said it.

  “...I am a dragon.”

  Everyone froze.

  A dragon.

  Of course, something like that could easily be seen as a joke, but it also had to be taken seriously. Dragons had no rules against interfering with mortal affairs. They simply refused to do so because mortals were of no interest to them, and trying to rule over them would start wars they couldn’t fight.

  But no one would stop a dragon from clearing out a cultist hideout.

  “Prove it,” Grey said, although his tone was slightly less arrogant. “Prove you’re a dragon.”

  Anta grinned.

  Faking this was easy enough.

  “You asked for it.”

  She activated Soul Steal, sapping away at Grey’s mana, draining at a frighteningly fast rate. He eventually backed off, steeling his mind and cutting off the flow, but it wasn’t like Anta had planned on draining his mana entirely to begin with.

  “You- that’s-”

  Grey’s face had suddenly turned pale. Upon seeing this, everyone else’s faces were also drained of colour.

  A dragon.

  “I apologize!” Gale exclaimed, bowing down.

  The other adventurers quickly followed suit, planting their foreheads to the ground.

  “If I may ask… what are you doing here?” Gorm said quietly. “It’s just…”

  “I’m letting off some steam,” Anta said confidently. “How I do it is of no importance to you, got it?”

  “...yes. My apologies.”

  With that, they left. As abruptly as they’d barged in, they stepped out, not arguing a single bit.

  “...I’m sorry, Prota,” Anta said quietly.

  Prota was confused. Why was Anta apologizing?

  “I… I know you wanted to befriend them again. But that wouldn’t have been possible. I’m not strong enough to save their lives.”

  “...what do you mean?”

  “I mean, either we pretended to be a little kid, or we scared them off. If we acted like someone who didn’t know what was going on, they probably would’ve let us leave.”

  “But… what about…”

  “Do you not remember what we talked about? They said John had saved their lives. Prota, this was a place meant to kill high-level adventurers. I wouldn’t be surprised if Destiny had eventually heard of a strange cult that had killed numerous high-level adventurers.”

  “...nn.”

  “Maybe… maybe another time. Another place. For now, let’s clear this place out, ok?”

  Prota nodded again.

  She could feel Anta preparing herself as they approached the next door. Interestingly, the place was pretty linear in design. The room they were in was practically just a cube, with a single door on three of its walls. One was the door Anta had come from. Another was the door to outside.

  Then, that only left the last door.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Anta suddenly muttered.

  Prota didn’t hear anything else, but she understood what she meant.

  Why hadn’t John cleared this place out? In their previous life, he hadn’t done this out of an attachment to any [Character] or anything of that sort. Or… was that true? To be honest, Prota didn’t know.

  “Do you understand what’s going on, Prota?” Anta said, seating herself on a crate.

  The question sounded rhetorical in nature.

  “No,” Prota said simply.

  “Alright. Look. In our past life, John told Zero that we can’t meet. Zero is obviously doing his job,” Anta said, her tone one of disgust. “However… what does ‘meeting us’ entail? To what extent are we going to be kept separate?”

  “...Zero just keeps us away from John?” Prota wondered.

  “No. That doesn’t make sense,” Anta muttered, biting her thumb. “Zero is a [Reader], but he can’t predict the future. He doesn’t know where we are, what we’re going to do. All he knows is the path the [Story] is meant to take, and what happened in our previous life…”

  Suddenly, Anta’s head snapped up.

  “The butterfly effect.”

  Prota didn’t understand. What did Anta mean by that?

  “Prota, think about it. The bar. Staying in Vulcan. All those things are actions that lead to us meeting John. It wasn’t just a coincidence. The [Author] meant for it to happen. Zero doesn’t know what we’re going to do, but he can predict it. He kept John out of Vulcan in order to stop us from meeting entirely.”

  Suddenly, Prota understood. She got it.

  But something didn’t make sense.

  “It’s all up to you, now,” he said quietly.

  Why had Zero told her that? If they were to be kept separate, what was the soul’s intention?

  “...John needs [DEM],” Prota said quietly. “He… the world is reset. So John needs to find [DEM] again.”

  Anta’s eyes widened.

  “Prota. You… you’re a genius.”

  “If… if we find it first…”

  “He’ll either have to face us, or abandon the energy.”

  “And if he finds us… we fight him.”

  “And if he leaves the energy, we’ll just take it for ourselves, and he’ll have to find us anyway.”

  “...find John.”

  “He can’t stop it from happening forever. Since he’s not allowed to take drastic action, if we somehow meet, it won’t be his fault.” Anta grinned. “That’s what Zero meant.”

  She got up, cracking her neck.

  “All right. Let’s keep moving.”

  Closing her eyes, she focused. The ability to sense mana and souls was a matter of technique rather than power or strength, so it was something they were still capable of doing.

  “Four,” Anta muttered. “That’s… hm. Prota. I don’t think I can handle that.”

  “...me.”

  Anta frowned. “Huh?”

  “My turn.”

  Anta looked a little confused, but she did as Prota said and relinquished control of the body. The eyes and hair turned blue once more, and the aggressive smile faded into a sleepy, passive look once more.

  Prota, now in charge, closed her eyes once more. The enemies were all exactly where they’d been before.

  Good.

  Keeping her eyes closed, she began to concentrate with all her might, pushing every bit of mana out of her core. Her mind began to collapse under the strain of performing such a spell, but if she could pull this off, they could easily recover before moving on.

  Remotely positioning spells was difficult. Having a larger core made it easier, but there was a reason Absolute Zero was a spell Prota hadn’t learned until later. Since mana originated from the mana core, the further the spell was cast, the weaker it was. That was the reason most attacks started from near the caster. Otherwise, winning battles would be a matter of replacing someone’s head with a block of dirt.

  It was hard to do.

  But it was still possible.

  Four co-ordinates. Four souls.

  Four icicles.

  Prota could feel her mind breaking. She had to finish this, fast.

  “Go,” she muttered, her voice faint.

  There was a loud crash from beyond the door, sounds of pained yelling, and then silence. Prota was out of breath, leaning on her knees for support. It was pitiful that she was in this state after casting what was a relatively simple spell, but that was merely the state of her body.

  But more than that, she felt powerful. Incredibly powerful.

  She wouldn’t have thought of this kind of spell until perhaps her third year of Scholaris. Even with a body comparable to the one she’d had in the Town of Beginnings, she was fighting off groups of cultists all on her own. She wasn’t quite sure how they matched up against the enemies from her earlier days, but that didn’t change the fact that she was doing this with the limited resources she had.

  She pushed the door open to see the four cultists in the room, all dead.

  “...that’s not a normal spell, you know, right?” Anta said in her mind, somewhat stunned. “Well, I guess the ability to see people through walls isn’t normal, either…”

  Prota walked up to the door, feeling it.

  “Could’ve just made it go kaboom,” she muttered, somewhat disappointed.

  “Mm… that looks like some kind of anti-magic circle,” Anta said. “I don’t think spells would’ve passed through so easily. You’d have to either open the door… or send mana through, like you did. And… I don’t think the idea of remote spells is exactly popular.”

  Prota was still tired, but it was good to know that they were making progress.

  “...should we stop here?” Anta suddenly said. “Clearing this up… we don’t need to finish it today. If it was the past life, I would’ve said keep going, but we can die now. Let’s… let’s just go get the kids and leave.”

  Prota nodded. It was good to finally have a companion with common sense. Well, Destiny fulfilled that role to some extent, but he wasn’t always around. For a moment, she imagined a world where Anta took her side in arguments against John, allowing her to talk him out of doing something stupid.

  Still half dazed, she wandered back through the door, toward the underground prison, when she spotted a figure coming in from outside.

  “...Prota,” Anta muttered.

  Prota’s vision snapped back into focus. It was a woman, youthful in appearance, carrying a cane and a bag of books.

  “Oh? What’s a child doing in a place like this?” she said, surprised.

  Prota immediately got into a defensive stance. From just one peek at her mana core, Prota could tell this opponent was strong. Incredibly strong.

  Stronger than almost any opponent she’d faced, even in her past life.

  Something about that mana felt familiar…

  “Prota!” Anta hissed. “I’m taking over!”

  Suddenly, Prota was forcefully ejected from the body, watching as the colour scheme switched back to red.

  “...what in the world?” the woman muttered. “Just who are… Prota?”

  The dots clicked. Everything fell into place.

  Prota suddenly understood who this was.

  “Ah. Well, you’ve heard of the demon cultists that got subjugated a while ago, right?”

  Another nod.

  “Well, I was the leader of that group.”

  Right.

  “Jinae,” Anta said, mana filling her body as mana reinforcement activated once more. “...you’re here.”

  “You know my- I see. You knew all along?”

  The illusion vanished, revealing Jinae’s true form, a hunched, old woman. Her physical appearance made her no less of an opponent.

  “It’s not like we ever pretended to know anything else,” Anta growled.

  “I see… then, were you spies sent by the church?” Jinae sighed. “I… I don’t wish to fight.”

  She stood up straight, holding her staff in her hands.

  “But if we must fight, then that is what it shall come to.”