WorldEnd: What Do You Do at the End of the World? Are You Busy? Will You Save Us?, Vol. 2

by Akira Kareno

  Copyright

  WORLDEND: WHAT DO YOU DO AT THE END OF THE WORLD? ARE YOU BUSY? WILL YOU SAVE US?

  AKIRA KARENO

  Translation by Jasmine Bernhardt

  Cover art by ue

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  SHUMATSU NANI SHITEMASUKA? ISOGASHIIDESUKA? SUKUTTEMORATTEIIDESUKA? Vol. 2

  ©2015 Akira Kareno, ue

  First published in Japan in 2015 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.

  English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.

  English translation © 2018 by Yen Press, LLC

  Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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  First Yen On Edition: November 2018

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Kareno, Akira, author. | ue, illustrator. | Bernhardt, Jasmine, translator.

  Title: WorldEnd : what do you do at the end of the world? are you busy? will you save us? / Akira Kareno ; illustration by ue ; translation by Jasmine Bernhardt.

  Other titles: WorldEnd. English

  Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen On, 2018– | Subtitle translated from Shumatsu Nani Shitemasuka? Isogashiidesuka? Sukuttemoratteiidesuka?

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018016690 | ISBN 9781975326876 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975326883 (v. 2 : pbk.)

  Classification: LCC PZ7.1.K364 Wo 2018 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018016690

  ISBNs: 978-1-9753-2688-3 (paperback)

  978-1-9753-2690-6 (ebook)

  E3-20181010-JV-PC

  Now But a Distant DreamA

  -the fellowship-

  Transport magic wasn’t as convenient as society thought.

  A magical rite tied two distant places together via enchantment, and “cargo” passed along the semi-physical corridor that opened through it. This allowed a long journey that would normally take months to be shortened and made it possible to send both people and things to faraway places— Well, certainly, hearing just that made it sound like dream technology. It even felt like this was the pinnacle of man’s evolution.

  But of course, the world is not so generous. Sometimes the location of the rite had to change depending on the position of the sun or the moon, or the ritualists had to activate their venenum almost to the point of being burned alive to make it work, or they had to take on the large burden when the subject of transfer was a living thing. A harsh reality always hid in the shadows of dream technology.

  That was why there were only two types of people who could benefit from the transport magic on this continent: those from the communication bureau who needed to send crucial information quickly and a small portion of the military and adventurers who could change the tide of battle alone or in a small, elite team.

  Outside of the Tihuana District on the edge of Empire territory, an abandoned cabin.

  “Weren’t we supposed to gather at noon?”

  There were three people in the cabin.

  Willem, one of the trio, looked around the room with a tired expression. No matter how many times he checked, there were only three of them, including himself. Four whole faces were missing from the number that should have been there.

  “Are the others late? Oh, whatever.”

  “Wait, wait, wait! Why are you talking so calmly and shamelessly?! You only got here after the sun started setting!”

  “And if you keep your mouth shut, the other four will never find that out.”

  “Where did you get that idea?! The truth won’t change even if we decided to tell the same story, and we don’t even have a reason to keep our mouths shut!”

  “I don’t really care, but can you stop screeching, Suowong? Cutting across the continent with transport magic has really given me a headache.”

  “And whose fault do you think that is?!”

  After briefly raising his voice, the young thaumaturgist Suowong dropped his shoulders weakly.

  Fluffy blond hair; light-blue eyes; a small, lean frame; and androgynous facial features: It might have seemed like his appearance would make him popular with the opposite sex, but regardless of time or place, he always wore the same pure-white cape, its hem dragging on the ground behind him, spoiling those good looks.

  “Talking with you always ends up like this. I’ve never met anyone else who could break my stride like you—Black Agate Swordmaster.”

  “Haven’t I told you to stop calling me that?”

  “You’re talking nonsense again. It’s a stylish name; what are you unsatisfied with? Well, cool as it may be, it is, of course, vastly inferior to my true name—the Magus of the Polar Star. But I suppose nothing can be done about that, since that’s a difference in ranking.”

  “Okay, just shut up already. Now you’re giving me a different kind of headache.”

  “Hmph! What is that supposed to mean?!”

  Suowong continued to grumble and complain, but Willem paid him no more mind and turned his gaze to the third person in the room.

  “So you did come, Lillia.”

  “Hmm? Whaya meen?”

  The girl, who was munching on biscuits as she read a book for some reason, looked up.

  Her hair, red like burned bricks, wavered slightly.

  “I told you it was okay to run away, didn’t I?”

  “Ahh, that ahain?” She bit into the pieces she had in her mouth. “Well, I had to come. If I don’t do this, who will?”

  “Me.”

  “Still saying that? But you can’t.”

  He gulped.

  Thrust before him was the naked truth, and he had no response.

  “I’m sooo sorry I’m here on the battlefield without a care in the world. Gosh, I mean, I am an incredible genius overflowing with unprecedented talent, after all,” Lillia said obnoxiously, then cackled.

  Willem was dumbfounded, but what remained clear was the bitter taste in his mouth as he groaned in response.

  “Look here, you…”

  “Hey, that’s not how you should be talking. Though it might be a fallen country, I’m still a genuine member of the royal family. Have some respect.”

  “Uh-huh. As for Her Highness, her character is as terrible as usual today.”

  “Oh my. Perhaps it’s due to the rotten people around her? She must choose better companions with whom to spend all her time.” />
  “Does she? Then I guess she won’t be needing these.” He produced a package of cookies from his pocket and waved it gently. “Almaria gave these to me for everyone to share, but I don’t have any obligation to share with people who aren’t my companions.”

  “Allie’s cookies?!” Lillia lunged forward. “Willem, we’re friends forever!”

  “Ugh. Your personality, character, temperament, disposition, and even nature aren’t worth commending. But I do sort of respect how quick you can switch up your attitude.”

  “And while you’re respecting me, why don’t you give me your daughter, Dad?”

  “A Brave would never hand over his child to such a dangerous character.”

  “Hmm. Oh well.”

  Before she even finished speaking, Lillia had turned the bag inside out and emptied the contents into the biscuit tin.

  “Those are for everyone. Leave some for Emi and the others.”

  “I know, I know.” Lillia gave a noncommittal answer and began stuffing the cookies in her mouth. A moment later, Suowong yelled, “No fair!” and joined in.

  “Come on, guys.”

  It was the usual banter among companions.

  “…Hey.”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why do you fight, Lillia?”

  “That again? It doesn’t really matter, does it? People can stand on the battlefield even without a reason, and they can fight well enough with the right talents. Isn’t that good enough?”

  “If you’re serious, then sure, that’s enough. I’m not convinced, but I’ll accept it anyway. But just listening to the way you talk about it—”

  “Makes it sound like I’m lying, you mean? What kind of lie?”

  If he knew, then this wouldn’t always be so difficult.

  When it was clear there would be no response, Lillia smugly spat, “See? You should just keep quiet, stay behind me, and be my herald. Oh yeah, and do Seniorious’s adjustments and that massage of yours. That’s all you’re worth, really. Just stick to what you’re capable of.”

  She sniffed again arrogantly.

  He didn’t have a response.

  There were lots of things he wanted to say. Like how her usual grinning mug looked like it was about to burst into tears for some reason—but he didn’t know why that was, so he couldn’t point that out.

  No matter how much they fought together on the battlefield, no matter how much they joked around like they did just now, he never knew what Lillia was thinking.

  “Hey.”

  “Hmm? Now what?”

  “I really do hate you.”

  “Ohh.”

  Lillia suddenly broke into a wide, bright grin.

  “I knew it!”

  For some reason, she said that full of pride.

  What was Lillia thinking about?

  What was she hiding?

  In the end, Willem never knew.

  Those Who Wait, and Those Who Never Return

  -dice in pot-

  1. Time Since Then

  He’d heard that the end of the hallway on the second floor was leaking recently.

  When he went to go see for himself, he saw how it might need a little handiwork. Since they’d need to call in someone from town later for proper repairs, all he had to do now was just some emergency fixing up. He needed some wooden boards and—

  “—Hey, you know where the hammer is?”

  When he turned around to ask, no one was there.

  Puzzled, he tilted his head.

  There was a girl with hair the color of the cerulean-blue sky who had constantly been by his side recently. Her presence had become normal for him. Thinking she should have been nearby, he called out to her. But—

  “Chtholly?”

  He called her name, but there was no response.

  Slowly, a feeling of unease welled up in his chest.

  “Ithea? Ren?”

  He called the names of Chtholly’s two close friends, but still, no answer.

  He put the repairs for the leak on hold and went to go look for them.

  He walked around the building, from one side of the first-floor hallway to the other. His search took him through the reading room, the recreation room, training gear storage, the kitchen, and the dining hall. He went up to the second floor, meticulously checking each and every area.

  He went outside. He walked through the forest. He searched the swamp. Heading even to the town, he peered inside every shop. The bookstore. The watchmaker. The projection house. The accessory shop. The café. The butcher. They were nowhere. Nowhere to be found.

  He drew aside some faeries he spotted and asked them. But all their answers were the same: I haven’t seen them. I don’t know who that is. I don’t know.

  Just as he cocked his head, puzzled, someone tapped him on his shoulder from behind.

  He turned around, and there was a tall troll woman—Nygglatho, smiling sadly at him.

  “You need to accept it already,” she said, her voice gentle. “Those girls are dead.”

  Huh?

  “You won’t find those girls anywhere anymore.”

  Impossible. What was she talking about?

  Regule Aire was, quite often, in danger of being on the verge of destruction.

  With relative frequency, intruders from the wasteland below would be carried in by the wind. In order to fight back against them, the residents needed to rely on ancient superweapons, which could be activated and used in combat only by faeries who had the forms and hearts of young girls.

  The entirety of the island cluster’s destiny rested on the girls’ tiny shoulders. It was a twisted, precarious world with an uncertain future.

  “Have you forgotten? They were sent off to battle.”

  He remembered. He could never forget.

  But he’d promised. Once she came home, he’d listen to anything she had to say.

  When he told her to come back alive, she smiled and replied, “Leave it to me.”

  That was why she had to.

  “You should get used to it soon. This is the natural course of things in this world.”

  It was a gentle voice, one for calming a disobedient child.

  He followed Nygglatho’s gaze and found her looking at four little faeries, who had gathered there at some point. The little ones, always running around without a care in the world, now stood in a row, oddly quiet.

  Forced expressions still on their faces, the four stared straight at him.

  They each carried familiar-looking swords in their skinny arms.

  “We’ll be back.”

  At that moment, a strong wind blew. He unconsciously shielded his eyes with an arm.

  When he opened his eyes again, the four girls were gone.

  A single white feather floated down before his eyes from some unknown place. But right as it was about to rest on the ground, another gust of wind came, and the feather was once again carried off into the sky.

  “You should get used to it.”

  Nygglatho repeated herself, then simply closed her mouth.

  Wait.

  This isn’t funny.

  He should get used to it. He knew that, but get used to what?

  Where was Chtholly? Ithea? Nephren? When would they be back?

  The four girls—Collon, Lakhesh, Pannibal, and Tiat—where were they going with those swords? What were they doing?

  He could not find the answers to his questions.

  Of course, even if he did, there was no way he could accept them. Not even if he was being told he was only running from the truth, even if he was scolded for throwing a tantrum like a child.

  “Face reality.”

  No. Stop. Don’t say that to me.

  If that was reality, then he no longer wanted to see it.

  So Willem closed his eyes, plugged his ears, and began to recite the names of generations of Legal Braves to hide from his thoughts. The proper nouns he’d memorized as a child washed away all unnecessary thoughts in his head. Abel Melcher
a. Torven Schnoll. Vecker the Ruby. The Nameless in Black.

  “—Twilla Nohten. Wily of the Rusted Blade—”

  His eyes snapped open.

  For several seconds, he stared blankly at the ceiling.

  He looked to the window, spending another few seconds watching how the sunlight poured through from beyond the beige curtains.

  “Foreigner Nils… Lillia Asplay…”

  He pushed back the blanket and slowly sat up.

  He cracked his neck.

  He spent the rest of his time getting a grasp on the situation, and—

  “I’m so glad that was just a dream!”

  His voice wavered behind tears as he cradled his head.

  Not everything in his dream was a vision.

  There was no mistaking that Regule Aire stood on thin ice. It was also true that the ones that held up the world were ancient curios and the girls who wielded them.

  Chtholly, Ithea, Nephren. Three girls had left their home, bound for the site of a harsh battle. And he, Willem Kmetsch, who worked as manager for the faerie soldiers (at least nominally), had seen them off. There was nothing false about that story.

  One more thing he noticed was how faithfully that dream matched reality.

  Half a month had passed since the battle began.

  The girls still had not come home.

  2. On This Side of the Silver Screen

  Two giant lizards stood facing each other, enveloped in a heavy mood.

  One of the lizards was well built, wearing a military uniform with a stiff collar. Judging by the design, this one was male—a guy, rather. Judging by the elegant dress the other wore, it could be surmised that one was a lady.

  They were silent, not exchanging a single word.

  Behind them stood a row of old, historic stone buildings. The two stood on the arched bridge that crossed over the waterways cutting through the city.

  The sun had long since set. The faint light from the gas lamps illuminated the pair against the darkness. There was no trace of another human soul—well, no, of course there wasn’t—but without a sign of any other person, it was almost as though the entire world itself had disappeared, leaving only these two behind.

  The lizard guy’s tongue flitted out from his mouth.