Chapter 77: Post Mortem

  post·mor·tem

  /?pōs(t)?m?rd?m/

  An analysis or discussion of an event held soon after it has occurred.

  John sat down heavily. [Deus Ex Machina] wasn’t an ability that used energy or stamina, but that didn’t change the fact that he was dead tired. Prota hovered next to him, exhausted as the tears in her eyes dried up. She leaned her head against his shoulder and was soon asleep, her chest rising and falling peacefully as her body gained some much-needed rest. John wanted to sleep, but the adrenaline pumping through his body wouldn’t let him.

  His hand relaxed as his pen fell to his side, the last bits of ink dried out. There was a soft glow as the tool began to scatter into bits of white light, floating through the air into the sky.

  He sighed as he took out a drink, taking a swig of the unknown substance. An energy drink from Earth. It wasn’t a potion, but right now, it was doing far more than any potion could do. The stress seeped out of his body as the sugar and caffeine made their way through his bloodstream.

  The sun shone on his face as he took another swig, the warmth seeping through his body as he closed his eyes. Despite his fatigue, a sense of unease still crept into his mind. It still didn’t feel like a total victory. No matter how powerful he was, there were still things he couldn’t do. Not yet.

  The bodies of every prisoner, every slave, every child, they were all gone. Not a trace of them remained. It was a miracle—no, scratch that, an oversight by the [Author]—that the bodies of the [Characters] John needed had remained at all. There were still those he couldn’t save.

  But… did he really care?

  Besides, wasn’t that the role of a [Side Character]? To disappear without anyone knowing they’d been there in the first place. Who would cry for them? The [Readers]? Those fools probably didn’t even give the deceased a second thought. Who cared about some unnamed, unheard-of random?

  He sure as hell didn’t. Even if he had the energy to spare, he wouldn’t waste it on something like this. Maybe he was the ultimate hypocrite. A [Reader] criticizing the [Readers] for something he did. Well, it wasn’t his place to judge.

  “Damn,” John laughed bitterly. “I’m getting all philosophical now, huh?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t know what had changed, but between the billions of [Resets] and now, he was definitely different. What that difference was, he didn’t know, but it was something.

  It was better than nothing.

  He felt his eyes grow heavy as the energy in his body slowly left him. Even if he wasn’t aware of it, the mental exhaustion of fighting for millions of years was bound to take a toll. Without thinking, he wrapped his arm around Prota and closed his eyes, giving into the world of sleep.

  ~~~

  “What now?”

  John’s head snapped up, the voice bringing him to his senses. He frowned. Where was he?

  He looked around, scanning, only to find… nothing. There was just a vast void with no end in sight. The horizon slowly turned black, giving the illusion of sun and space with fluffy clouds littering the otherwise empty blue sky. Underneath was some kind of white flooring, clear and shiny, reflecting the scenery overhead like a giant mirror.

  The only thing interrupting the endless void was a single tree with a circular patch of grass around it, its branches swaying invitingly despite the lack of wind. There sat Amber, leaning against the trunk, patting the ground next to her invitingly.

  “Come on, John. Let’s talk.”

  No. He shook his head. He was trying to forget about her. Why was she here? That stupid cave should’ve been the last of her. The world he’d once called home was gone. He couldn’t go back

  So why did it keep coming back to plague him?

  Amber smiled invitingly, seemingly unconcerned about the void she was in, waving John over.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of. Unless you’re worried I’m gonna give you another beating?”

  A dream. This had to be a dream. John didn’t know he could dream. He hadn’t done so since learning that he lived in a world of fiction. Well, but then again, if the impossible could happen anywhere, it was here.

  John walked over hesitantly, unsure of what to do. “Uh… hey.”

  “Hey,” Amber replied cheerfully.

  “...where are we?”

  “Why are you asking me? You know the answer to that question.”

  She leaned back against the tree, closing her eyes. A breeze blew by, her brown hair fluttering in the wind.

  “Who are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You can’t be Amber. She’s gone. So who are you?”

  The girl smiled teasingly. “Maybe I’m Amber. Maybe I’m not. But you didn’t answer my question, John. What now?”

  He froze. Yeah. What now?

  And how the hell had he gotten this far?

  Broken. Alone. Driven by one purpose and one purpose only. He just wanted his memories, nothing else. But no matter how hard he tried, he could never find them.

  Years of solitude. Years of wandering aimlessly, accomplishing nothing. There was nothing for him. No reason to be happy. No reason to be sad. He just… was.

  That is, until he found Prota. Broken. Alone. Discarded in a lone alleyway like a doll, afraid to hurt those who hurt her, forced to endure a fate she could not escape on her own.

  “Hey, hey, I’m harmless. I… uh… I’m not gonna hurt you, ok?”

  A year of recovery, of rest. John’s least productive year had somehow been the best since coming to this world. Prota’s request had given him something to do other than search for his memories. She’d given a destination to his wandering—a goal to his monotone life.

  “Help me… save my sister!”

  Prota’s kidnapping. John’s emotions. A rush. A fight. [Infinity]. The obliteration of one group led to the arrival of the Demon King, and with her, the location of his missing memories. His goal, so close, just within reach.

  And yet so far away.

  [[Destiny Bond]: Initiated.]

  [Good luck, John.]

  Breaking the news to Prota about the world, the [Story], the [Plot]. The end of one arc, onto the next, indicated by a simple trek to the village. What started slow had once again exploded into confusion with the introduction of a boy named Fate.

  The [Protagonist].

  “Prota, if this world is a story, then there’s a main character, right?”

  “Then… we need to meet that main character. The [Protagonist]. We have to be friends with him, no matter what.”

  He hadn’t known what kind of person Fate was. All he knew was that the role of the [Protagonist] was one they needed.

  “We don’t think you’re the enemy. And if you’re not the enemy, then why not stick with us?”

  Albert’s offer. Fate’s companionship. A quest that would span the course of a year.

  Just like that, the world had gone from black and white to shades of grey. It had taken just one precious person for his emotions to light up. The coals were hot, just waiting for someone to fan the flames.

  “...is that a yes?”

  Prota nodded, burying her face into John’s chest, and he returned the embrace, a small but sincere smile appearing on his lips.

  “Thank you, Prota.”

  Then there was Kit. Mystics. Learning that Prota was an [Anomaly] like he was, possibly the furthest thing from a [Protagonist] she could be. She was someone just like him.

  And yet she continued to grow. Continued to break free from the chains tying her down, one by one. And while she escaped a jail of her own machination, John was forced to revisit a past he though he’d shed.

  He though he’d broken those chains long ago, but they were still there. Rusty, maybe. Old, yes. But they were still tying him down.

  “You know the answer just as well as I do. I’m not real. The purpose of this cave is to push you further. I did that. There was no need to fight any further.”

  The mansion, Draco, the souls, the organization. Everyone, pushed and pulled by the current of the [Plot], forced to play along, mindlessly obeying the whims of the [Author].

  So much. So much had happened.

  [Character]. They died so easily. Their deaths served purposes, usually, but still.

  Zero’s little story about curses and blessings. Despite how boring it’d been, it stuck to John like a pest in this particular moment, buzzing in his ear. What was a blessing? What was a curse?

  Where was he now? And where would he go?

  “What now?”

  John looked up as he muttered those words. Into a fake sky, built within a fake world, all of which resided in a [Story]. A dream inside a dream, a sky made from his imagination inside of a world made by the imagination of another.

  “What do you want, John?” Amber said quietly. “What will you do with this world?”

  “A [Story] that’s enjoyable for me, a [Story] that’s fun for me, something that challenges me, makes me think, makes me feel. A [Story] where I get to connect to the [Characters], not those bitchass [Readers]. Me! Do you understand me?!”

  What was he going to do? He had no idea. He had a whole array of options before him. Play the hero. Play the villain. Play the role of the observer, the one who sat and watched, play the role of the companion, one who accompanied the hero on his journey.

  Would he fill a [Trope]? Or would he do something else?

  His mouth opened slowly as he prepared himself for what would come next.

  “...I’ll do it.”

  Amber put her hand to her ear, acting as though she hadn’t heard him.

  “What? I wanna hear you say it.”

  John scoffed. “What? No. Fuck you.”

  “Why not? It’s just you and me.”

  “Yeah, right. You’re telling me there are no [Readers]? Well, on second thought, that makes sense. Nobody’s reading this at this point, right?”

  Amber sighed. “John. The [Author] can’t be that bad, right?”

  “Ah, so you’re the [Author]?”

  “No, silly,” Amber laughed. “I’m you. I promise I’m not lying. And you need to answer this question. I- no, we need to hear you say it.”

  “Why? If you’re me, then you know the answer, right?”

  “And if I know the answer, then so do you. If that’s the case, then why not say it out loud?”

  John sighed.

  “I’ll do it. I’ll write my own [Story].” He cringed, physically pained by the words he’d just said. “Look, I wanna do what I want, ok? I want freedom. I want to be happy. I want to do what I want without worrying that some all-powerful force will ruin it all for me. Is it really that hard?”

  Everything came crashing together. Prota. Diaboli. Fate. Kit. Danjo. Albert. Doctor.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  The [Story]. The things he’d influenced, the things he’d changed.

  Some of it was under his control. Other parts weren’t.

  But he didn’t care. He’d change what he could. [Write] what he wanted. Companions. Enemies. Friends. Family. They could be taken from him, they could be destroyed, but he could [Write] them back. He would force the tragedy out of his story as much as he could. He didn’t care how much of a fairy tale this story turned into. He didn’t care if he ended up in a Hollywood ending.

  “I’m a [Writer], right? I’ll choose what I want.”

  Amber smiled. “Thank you. I just… I want you to know that you’re special. You really aren’t just a [Character]. And, well… thank you.”

  “Th- thank you? Hey, what do you-”

  There was a flash of light, and Amber’s body turned pure white, slowly flaking away like pieces of burnt paper floating through the wind, ripping off piece by piece. Soon, there was nobody but John left in the void of pure white. He was left staring a tree with nobody under it.

  Suddenly, a message appeared in his system.

  [Just keep going. We’ll reach the end, eventually. Don’t we all?]

  “Hey, hey, hold on a minute!” John yelled angrily. “Was that… [Author]? Was that you? What the fuck! I thought you couldn’t interact! Hey, you said you weren’t the [Author]! What kinda self-insert was that? What the fu-”

  His rant was interrupted by a voice identical to his own.

  “Simmer down. It’s the [Author]. They can do a little self-insert if they want, right? As a little treat.”

  John whipped around to see Zero standing behind him with a sad smile.

  “Where were you?” John grumbled.

  “Sorry. This is your dream, after all. I thought I’d leave you alone.”

  That was a pretty fair argument. John wanted to argue, but he found that he didn’t have it in him. With a heavy sigh, he slumped down against the tree trunk, covering his face with his hands.

  “I… what now? That was the [Author], Zero. What if this is just all one big bait?”

  “Well, think about it. What did they tell you?”

  What now, John?

  Zero smiled. “Does who they were change anything?”

  “...I guess not.”

  “You’ve got people waiting for you, John.”

  “Yeah. I guess I do.”

  He got up and looked up at the sky. It was identical to its reflection down below, yet one was real and the other wasn’t. By tilting one’s head, they could easily differentiate between real and fake.

  Zero grinned and gave a little salute. “See you on the flip side.”

  He vanished, leaving behind a little puff of smoke. John scoffed. Zero never left a puff of smoke behind. What did he think he was?

  “No more [Resets], then. This is it.”

  A feeling of tension grew in John’s heart, a brief wave of nausea washing over him. He was nervous.

  This was “life.” This was now a “reality.” It didn’t matter if things were fake. He, too, might as well be fake. He had one shot. No more second chances.

  “Yeah. Yeah, this is it. I got this.”

  He could feel the blood pumping from his heart to the tips of his fingers, the warm reaching all the way down to his toes, flowing back up, his eyes lighting up with energy. There was no threat. No enemy.

  But it was the most alive he’d felt in ages.

  ~~~

  John sat straight up, his heart pounding as he went from dream to reality. His breaths were heavy as his body demanded compensation for its work. Looking around, he found himself in the hospital. They must’ve found him and moved him back. Across from him was Fate—well, his name was Destiny, but no need to call him that yet.

  “John? Are you ok?” the hero said, putting down the book he’d been reading.

  John sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a dream.”

  “Must’ve been quite the dream for you to wake up like that.

  Fate looked at him calmly, nodding as if he understood. John did a double take as he saw the boy without his mask on. Right. Just one more reminder.

  It was all over now.

  John nodded once in return, taking a slower look at his surroundings. Prota was asleep in the bed beside his, her chest rising and falling calmly.

  “She woke up a bit before you, then fell back asleep. Truth be told… you’ve been asleep for a day longer than all of us,” Fate explained.

  “...then what’re you still doing in bed? You telling me it’s taking you this long to recover?” John scoffed.

  “The fact that you’re alive is insane,” the boy said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you survived. Our injuries were beyond simple potions. We need at least a week of rest.”

  “...Danjo?” John frowned, scanning the room.

  “He didn’t get hurt too bad. He was standing a bit further back. I’m not sure how that mattered, considering the depth of the crater they found us in, but apparently he’s fine now. His sister, on the other hand…”

  John clenched his fists. What? There was no way. Had [Deus Ex Machina] failed him?

  “She’s in a critical condition. Incredibly unhealthy, signs of torture… it’s incredible she survived that long.”

  Thank god. Everything had worked. Wait, not everything. Where was Kit?

  “Hey, where’s-”

  John’s question was immediately answered as the fox hopped out from under the bed, morphing into her human form.

  “Aw, you care,” she smiled.

  “Yeah, yeah. Go back to being a fox.”

  Kit pouted as she quickly transformed, back, jumping onto Prota’s bed and nestling in for a nap.

  “So.” John just stared at the boy in the bed across from him. “What do I call you now?”

  He stared at the broken mask on the tableside. The mask known as Fate.

  “You told me. Someday, you’d tell me your story,” John insisted. “Now’s a fine time, right? At least tell me your real name.”

  “...Destiny. My name is Destiny.”

  His voice was sombre, but John couldn’t find the situation any funnier. He burst out laughing so loudly that Prota’s eyes snapped open from her sleep.

  “There’s no way. I thought I heard right the first time, but… Destiny? Fate? Really?”

  “I’m not the greatest at naming, alright? It works. And what do you mean, first time? I never told you my name.”

  “I- don’t worry about it,” John said, still suppressing a few snickers.

  He opened his arms as Prota crawled into his bed, burying her face into his chest. Her breathing calmed down as she soon sank back into a deep sleep, this time in his arms.

  “She was really worried about you, you know,” Destiny said, looking at the white-haired girl. “She wouldn’t say anything, just kept calling your name.”

  John shifted into a more comfortable position, making sure not to disturb his sister.

  “So. What now, Destiny?”

  “The Scholaris applications open in April, and then the tests begin in June. It’s March right now.”

  “Lotta yapping, not much information. Get on with it.”

  Destiny stared at John. Somehow, the expression was exactly how John imagined it would be under the mask.

  “Haah… listen. I was sent here by the royal Elvish family to investigate a hidden organization dealing with strange magic. I’m finished now, so, well, I’ll go back home, I guess. There’s nothing left for me here. I’m done. You said you were planning on sending Prota to Scholaris, right?”

  John shrugged. “Yeah. I might as well apply too, I guess.”

  “You? How’re you going to- never mind.”

  The two sat in silence for a bit. There was an obvious question hanging in the air, but Destiny was almost afraid to ask it. Eventually, though, curiosity won out.

  “Hey. What happened?”

  John feigned ignorance, but he knew Destiny wouldn’t just let this one drop. He had to come up with some kind of excuse, and fast.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know. What happened to Doctor? To the facility? All of that?”

  Destiny was clearly disappointed he hadn’t been of any service. But would he have felt any better had he actually fought against the enemy? He didn’t know the atrocities Doctor committed. He didn’t know that Doctor was the man who’d tortured him for ages.

  The only ones who knew were John and Prota, and it was information from lives that no longer existed.

  John could tell him. He could tell Destiny that he’d failed to kill the man that had been the monster of his life. That he’d been so close to revenge, only to fail. Hell, he could tell him about [Reset] now that he didn’t have it, tell him about every failure they’d ever encountered.

  But what was the point? Some things were better left as a secret. Some things were better left undone. John wasn’t the kind of guy to try and hide the truth, but at the same time, was the truth always necessary?

  “You know something,” Destiny said. “Prota froze when we questioned her, then buried her head in her pillow. She’s not good at lying. Without you, she’s an open book. But I know you. Just remember that I’ve got a little trick of my own.”

  John’s mind stopped in its tracks. His breathing and facial expression were perfectly calm, but he was trapped. What kind of excuse could he give? He didn’t speak for a few minutes. He knew it was suspicious. But Fate would use his lie detector. He had to think of something, and quick.

  “What do you want me to say? How would I know about something you don’t?”

  Answer a question with a question. There was no lie to be told. All he could do was point out the obvious.

  “I mean, you’ve got to know something, right? If Prota didn’t want to speak-”

  “She’s stronger than me,” John pointed out. “It makes sense that she’d stay conscious for longer than me, no? I was tied up for, like, a week. What did you expect?”

  Destiny sighed. It was clear John was hiding something, but was it really so important that he pulled it out? He’d been helpful so far. Why should he push a question John clearly didn’t want to answer?

  “...you know what? Fine. I won’t question it. You are absolutely sure we won? Doctor is dead?”

  John nodded. “Yes. I am absolutely sure.”

  “Then… that’s all that matters.”

  ~~~

  Prota blinked her eyes open. She’d opened them just a bit too late. With John asleep, Prota was once again left with her thoughts. She fell back and closed her eyes, letting the events of the previous two years or so wash over her.

  She’d gone from a piece of trash in the streets to where she was now. She could still feel the cold rain pelting down on her body, barely covered by thin rags that she scraped together from the trash bins. Now, she was wrapped in a cloak that kept her warm no matter what, next to a brother who loved her despite all her flaws.

  She still felt uneasy about what she’d done. But something about that speech had change her. Even if she made mistakes, mistakes that could cause catastrophic harm, John would still be there for her. He wouldn’t leave her over something like this.

  He just wanted her to be herself.

  Yes, maybe she’d been the cause of everyone’s death. She’d been the reason John had used up his precious powers.

  But that had been her choice. The resolve to save her friends. The resolve to die for someone who didn’t need saving.

  And now, she realised that she’d done something. Something had changed within John. His eyes weren’t so empty anymore. He wasn’t a lively, happy fellow, but there was just a little more warmth in his eyes,

  In hindsight, she would’ve made this decision again and again. She’d rather live in a dream with John than in a reality that hated her. For her, reality and fiction didn’t matter. What mattered was that she had a home to come back to.

  She brushed a strand of hair away from her face as she watched John curiously. She still didn’t fully understand him. There were still secrets she wasn’t aware of. But that was ok.

  Because no matter what, he was still her brother.

  [Good job.]

  Prota frowned. This again. It’d been a while. Just what was this? Even John didn’t know the answer to that question.

  [Getting near that guy woke me up a little, but it’s not enough. But you’ve done it. You’re no longer a little crybaby.]

  “Who are you?” Prota said quietly.

  [I’m ■■■■■■■■. Oh. Hm. Interesting.]

  “...?”

  [Anyways. You’ve grown a lot. Be proud of yourself. You’ve come a long way.]

  “I… grew?”

  [Look at where you started. Look at where you are now. You’re a strong mage, Prota. And I’ll meet you eventually. So just keep going.]

  “W-wait!” Prota exclaimed, reaching out, but she couldn’t grab the message.

  It wasn’t something she could touch. It vanished, leaving no trace behind.

  “I… thank you.”

  She looked down at her hands and was surprised to find tears dripping into them.

  They weren’t tears of guilt or sadness, though—just tears of raw emotion. She’d been through so much—so, so much. And through it all, she’d forgotten how to cry. She forgot that she, too, was a person.

  The little girl in the village turned into the little demon of the streets. A demon unloved by everyone, save for some strange bartender who had no reason to take care of her. The same bartender had no reason to accept her request, yet he’d agreed anyway.

  Then the little demon became the man’s little sister, only for the man to die at the hands of an actual demon. She’d gone to an old lady to learn magic and take revenge, only for the old lady to die at the hands of those who were supposed to oppose the demons that’d killed her brother.

  And then she’d died.

  But somehow, death wasn’t the end. Instead, it was the start of a whole adventure, a new world, and new meanings. [Stories], [Writers], [Readers] and [Characters], the crushing weight of the reality that she and the world she lived in wasn’t real. As if to counterbalance this, she’d received the [Destiny Bond].

  The one thing that kept her linked to John.

  But that wasn’t the end. They went on a journey, an adventure, meeting a strange boy and his fox. Only, they weren’t just a boy and a fox. They were the hero and his Mystic companion.

  She learned to fight, to kill and be killed, to push forward and keep going. She realized what it meant to protect, to take care of someone who didn’t need protecting. She’d failed, despaired, and then gotten back up, stronger than before. She dropped her fear of abandonment. She learned that she, too, could make her own decisions.

  She learned that she mattered, that to protect John, she, too, had to do what she wanted, and that John would not abandon her, even if she did that.

  So far. She’d come so far. Tears began to pool up, spilling out and soaking the bed. It was a good long while before she was finished. Perhaps her body had been waiting for this moment. A moment where she would finally realize that her emotions mattered.

  That she mattered.

  Her chest heaving, she got up and wiped her eyes, walking over to the window, staring at the bright night sky, the full moon hanging overhead in the trees. She was once a little girl, starving in the streets. Now… she didn’t know what she was now.

  All she knew was that the little girl of the streets would not have recognized the girl here.