Perhaps in a way, that was the final form of a story. If he focused his attention on times that were hard, he could even make a story where he did nothing more than eat a full belly of food. And in any era, it was possible to find happiness by interacting with people.
On the other hand, the stories where the outer gods intervened involved the things he wanted being destroyed. They would also hide the fact that they were stories, and make it seem as if, instead, they were reality.
This, too, was another form of story concluding.
It had taken thousands of years to reach this point, and still stories hid themselves from mankind, he now believed. This belief had started as a doubt, and had only grown stronger. To make the stories flat, Akuto prepared an infinite plane, with a chair and table on it, drinks, and a few fruits. Even here, stories still emerged, but they could be kept under control.
People can only recognize reality through stories. And he was searching for the end of stories. This meant he was looking for the end of reality. For an end to time.
The stories started to fight back, as if they were trying to survive even past humanity’s demise.
An infinite flat plane. Akuto summoned a visitor into that space. There were very few personalities outside his influence now. And only one who could give him advice.
Hiroshi was there, with a blushing smile on his face.
“It’s our first time talking like this, isn’t it?” Hiroshi said. He wasn’t wearing the suit, but he was still Brave.
“We’ve spent a lot of time apart, haven’t we?”
“I never thought about trying to talk with you as an equal.”
“Maybe not. But I think we knew that this time would come.”
“I didn’t come here because you called me. I chose this spacetime to warp to. I knew this time would come. So for me it’s been a few months. For you, a few thousand years? That’s a long time.”
“Sorry I couldn’t find a better place to invite you.” Akuto laughed as he offered a drink.
“This place is... an endless flat plane. Like a desert, I guess.” Hiroshi looked around.
“Of course, I can make it look like anything I want. But I’m trying to keep stories from emerging.”
“This is your world, then.”
“I guess so. What do you want to drink? I haven’t decided what this is yet,” Akuto said casually. When Hiroshi looked in the cup, there was what he could only describe as a liquid that hadn’t become anything yet.
“I’ll take water. Natural mineral water,” Hiroshi said. The liquid bubbled and became cold mineral water.
“I see.” Hiroshi swallowed the water. It felt pleasant and cool as it went down his throat.
“What’s it like being able to do anything?” Hiroshi asked after a moment.
“It feels like I’ve reached the endpoint of the pleasure I can experience as a living thing,” Akuto said. Hiroshi laughed a little.
“I’ve never felt that before.”
“Right?” Akuto smiled. “But right now we’re on the same stage. I think we’re the only ones who haven’t become concepts.”
“Concepts?”
“In this state, I can really understand the fact that a personality is something that can’t be truly understood by another person. If another person’s responses were actually mechanical, we wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Perhaps the infinite personalities that exist inside us right now are actually that.”
“If you have a box that only an individual can look inside, and something with the same name but different is put inside it, can you have a conversation? If you have a dictionary in a foreign language that you don’t know, and it tells you how to respond to different greetings, if you use it are you having a conversation?” Hiroshi asked.
Akuto seemed entertained.
“Yeah. What you just said doesn’t seem like something you’d say.”
“When I’m here, I’m a unified version of the concept of Brave.”
Hiroshi grinned too.
“I see. So concepts really are concepts then.”
“But I do understand what you’re trying to say. You and I are the only incarnate beings in the Law of Identity’s world. We can call being a concept that is equal before its creator being incarnate, right? So in your world, all the people inside are equally incarnate.”
“You use the word creator, but it doesn’t feel like I’m a god. I can feel it. Stories are what are tying us down. Even if we were to attempt to create a world, the only freedom we’d have is what story we would choose. In the end, what I’m trying to do is kill that and escape from this world.”
Akuto’s voice seemed to echo a sense of loneliness.
“So you’ve reconfirmed that your goal is to kill stories.”
“I guess so. When I made the decision, I didn’t think much of it. Ever since I decided to kill the gods,” Akuto said with an exasperated sigh. Hiroshi chuckled.
“Show some consideration for those of us who got caught up in it. If you include the stories you created after that, we’ve lived countless ordinary lives, and countless extraordinary ones. And Korone and Keena are still asleep. I think they could probably endure a few thousand years of that, though.” Despite Hiroshi’s words, there was no harshness behind his criticism.
“That’s why I decided to talk to you. You’re the only one that’s outside my story,” Akuto said, his voice suddenly serious.
“I don’t mind when you sound weak like that. After all, we weren’t very well balanced. I was much lighter than you were,” Hiroshi said, jokingly.
The two of them both laughed, a little embarrassed.
“That’s right. You were always the saner of the two of us. You were normal, so you were never cut out to be caught up in something like this.”
Hiroshi shook his head confidently, however.
“That’s not true anymore. That’s why I can end this story.”
Nothing on Akuto’s face said he believed this, though.
“You mean your decision to kill me, right?”
But Hiroshi was unphased.
“Of course. With you gone, I can rewind the world and restart the story, with all its patterns. You can be there, just not as the demon king.”
“Isn’t that a waste of time? You’ve already killed me a bunch of times, haven’t you?” Akuto asked, confused. Hiroshi pointed at him, as if to say, “That’s exactly the point!”
“That’s the problem! In this world... yes... even in your world... everybody wants to kill the demon king. Of course, so do you. But it doesn’t work because the Law of Identity’s power is still in effect here!”
For the first time, Akuto seemed like he’d figured something out.
“That’s right. It was Keana who stopped me from destroying the world.”
“So first I’ll kill the Law of Identity, and then I’ll kill the demon king. That will solve it.” Hiroshi had a mischievous grin on his face. Akuto sighed and pouted.
“You know that’s impossible.”
“Right now, I’m basically fused with Boichiro. Not only do I have his knowledge, I have his sarcastic personality as well. I’ve lived a whole life without value. As a side character.”
Hiroshi reached out toward one of the fruits on the table. Only then did he realize that it was a peach.
“Well, I feel bad for what I did to you. But I don’t think it was devoid of value... No, I actually suppose I consider my own life devoid of value now.”
Akuto picked up a peach. He took out a knife and made a cut on the peach, then ran his finger down it and the peel came off.
“That’s why I can’t come up with a good solution for this problem. In the end, maybe there isn’t anything I can do. It feels like I called you here to just destroy everything.”
Akuto’s face darkened, but Hiroshi just laughed.
“Haha. I’ll stop being mean to you now.”
“Mean?” Akuto looked into Hiroshi’s eyes.
“I mea
n, I think there’s more you can do. I’ve got an idea, you could say.”
Hiroshi cut into the flesh of his peach with a knife, and took a big bite out of it.
“Is there? Really?” Akuto asked. Hiroshi’s response was immediate.
“If you feel bad, it means you feel some degree of responsibility. The people within you are pawns, but you don’t think of them as pawns.”
Akuto gasped.
“I see. I’ve got a responsibility not just towards you, but to the ghosts who were once personalities too, don’t I? When it comes down to it, I’m the king of the ghosts.” He nibbled his peach in contemplation. “Humanity went extinct, and everyone became data, you could say. But even in the past, people’s actions were digitized.”
“If you became digitized, boss, it means you had a real soul. That’s something Boichiro told me.”
“A real soul? In other words, something that makes me what I am. That was the concept that took root in Zero. And also the meaning of the Law of Identity.”
“Correct. It can’t be called anything but a ‘concept’, but we still need to treat it as something real. We need to assume that anything under the Law of Identity’s influence has a soul.”
“I see. So if we assume that a soul is real, that means there’s a difference between ghosts and data. The black mages always did say that necromancy was an incomplete field.”
“And that’s why you can summon ghosts.”
“Ghosts, huh?” Akuto mused, “And if I can do that, I can figure out what my mistake is, and maybe understand the nature of this world, huh?”
Akuto tossed the peach he’d been eating into the air. When it landed, a long table appeared. There were four chairs there. Before long, someone appeared from beyond the horizon. The image of them seemed to be wavering like a mirage, but as they approached, they became clearer and more distinct. It was a young girl.
Perhaps he hadn’t expected to see her, or perhaps Boichiro’s memories held some degree of influence over him, because Hiroshi gasped in surprise.
“Eiko Teruya!”
A slim, well-proportioned body, with long hair tied behind her back. It was indeed the girl who’d once used a complicated conspiracy to get Akuto to agree to her deal.
“My memories are an absolute mess,” she said, complaining to Akuto as if it had only happened yesterday. She pushed her way past Hiroshi, casting a pridefully indignant expression toward Akuto.
“I understand. You lived in a prison. But if you grow used to introspection, there’s no place easier to live in than a prison. Anyway, sit down. I prepared a table and chairs so we could have a long chat.” Akuto spoke gently to the new arrival.
“Hah! You’re a nasty one, aren’t you? Fine, I will. I’m going to hate you so much that you’ll eventually go crazy from it.”
She went around to the other side of the table, before sitting down in the middle chair and crossing her long legs, as if to show them off. Her underwear was showing, but that seemed entirely deliberate.
“Well, I was never able to come to like you, you know,” Akuto began.
Eiko snorted.
“Sometimes things between men and women don’t go well regardless of whether you like somebody or not. You’ve lived thousands of years, and yet you’re still just a child, Akuto Sai.”
“You’re not even 20 yet,” Hiroshi interrupted. Eiko gave him a scathing glare.
“Age isn’t everything. Before, you seemed like the adult to me.”
“When I was trying to find the Law of Identity, you betrayed me.”
Eiko just grinned.
“We’re not all here to talk about what a bitch I am, are we? And anyway, I did what was right.”
“Right?” Akuto raised an eyebrow. “How were you right? All you did was do what the computer gods told you, and try to raise your status in the real world.”
Eiko smiled.
“I don’t think that’s wrong. Whether the world ended up destroyed or not, that would happen long after my generation. Have fun while you’re alive, and leave a good society for the next generation. If the end of the world only comes a long time after that, what else can you do? You and I, or maybe Boichiro and I, depending on who I’m talking to, could’ve gone to the future together.”
“You tried to take control of society, didn’t you? By altering the gods’ data to deceive people.”
“And what’s wrong with that? You’re so arrogant. Here, you’re trying people as a collective. The citizenry. The masses. The people. The mob. The crowd. It doesn’t matter what word you use. They’ve all sunk into the background, if nothing else. You should’ve figured this out after the end of the world. You did something stupid to try and control people. You tried to give them a religion.”
Akuto fell silent.
“You and I are the same. Maybe I didn’t know the truth about what was coming in the distant future, but if you had infinite time, you would’ve done the same thing I did.”
“That’s right. It’s the same thing.” Akuto was practically choking on the admission.
“Just like you, I didn’t believe in religion. Just like you, I looked down on people who acted without thinking. But the reason you didn’t come with me was that at your core, you believed in eschatology and the creator of the world. You were actually a believer, in something that was illogical.”
Eiko mocked him. There was nothing in her words that he could dispute, though, so he simply slumped into his chair. Both Akuto and Boichiro were believers in the Law of Identity. Eiko’s face warped into a victorious grin.
“I haven’t felt this satisfied since I died,” she said. But Hiroshi cut her off.
“Normally, when you die you don’t get a chance to defend yourself. And the imprisoned are not facing justice, either.”
Hiroshi’s tone suddenly changed. He stepped away from the small table Akuto was sitting at and went around to the longer one.
“Maybe this is to be expected, since you’re the Demon King, but you shouldn’t need that kind of forgiveness. You don’t want to claim that you are the Demon King, I’m sure.”
Hiroshi’s face had, at some point, turned into Boichiro’s.
“Now it’s my turn. My prophecy is now clear. No, my predictions, based on precise data and experience, proved to be right. Of course they did. You ignored my warning. Now the outer gods have invaded us and turned everything into chaos.”
“I’ll have to admit my mistake there,” Akuto nodded.
“I wasn’t the one to be bound to the Law of Identity. But it could’ve been you, instead. You could’ve done what I tried to do, and saved the world. It could have continued eternally, as it was, in another universe.”
Boichiro’s words became heated.
“But you were obsessed with Rimu Sudo and Keena, too, weren’t you? What you’re talking about isn’t the world,” Akuto said, but Boichiro’s response was quick.
“If my ego and my values were in sync, what’s wrong with that? You had the right to destroy the world. Your decision to kill the gods then was wrong.”
“You’re right. I’d given up on thinking. I just let impulse take over and did what Keena calls ‘the way boys settle things.’ I just thought I was doing what Keena’s voice told me to.”
Akuto’s words were only coming out reluctantly. Boichiro laughed.
“...Even the space you have full control over was invaded by the outer gods. The real universe is doubtless no exception. If you attain true satisfaction and go to your death, this space will cease to exist. And then all will turn to dust. Even eternal beings like us, who’ve been reincarnated to carry out our roles, will cease to exist.”
“And I won’t ever save Keena, will I?”
“Outside of this world, Keena and the outer gods are of equal importance, no doubt. The Law of Identity itself is no exception either.”
Akuto thought for a moment about what Boichiro said. Then, he spoke.
“I’ll summon the outer gods.”
&n
bsp; That surprised even Boichiro.
“Can you do that?”
“They’ve become stories too, or at least they should have. I don’t know if I can communicate with them on a deep level. We don’t share any stories. But it should be possible.”
The instant he said this, a black figure was in the chair. No, everyone understood that it was there. When they turned to look at it, it was a shadow whose race couldn’t even be determined. But when they looked away, there was someone there. They could see it out of the corner of their eye, but they couldn’t make out its gender, let alone its expression. But when they went to get a closer look, it was only a shadow.
“I am the Void Universe,” the black figure said. It was a strange voice, only audible if you strained to hear.
“The Void Universe?”
Akuto’s question seemed to get through to it. There was a faint answer, difficult to hear, but clear if you focused on the sound and not the words.
“A universe with no stories. No matter. Only a single voice. The only things there are the occasional voices meaning things like ‘you’, ‘thou’, ‘vous’ or ‘sue’.”
Akuto reconstructed in his mind the meaning of the black figure’s words. He continued his questions, hoping to learn more about this strange figure.
“Only a voice that says ‘you’?”
“The word ‘You’ is shouted, and identity is born. When I first entered this world, it gave birth to a story. The second person pronoun. I am only voice. You! You! You!”
“But if there’s a story, there shouldn’t be a void.”
“The one who is called is never met. No one is ever met. The voice is simply there, alone.”
An image of the Void Universe’s visual senses spread out before them. A darkness that wasn’t a darkness. A void without even light. Only a nameless voice echoing. A voice that was only a single sound. Repeating and repeating. The voice never reached anyone. The only thing there was an existence that thought that there must be something else. It wasn’t even clear if this existence was singular or a plurality. But someone was there, endlessly seeking another.
Demon King Daimaou: Volume 13 Page 7
