'What is magic to you?'
"Power. Pure power—the strength to forge a new era for myself."
'And what does magic mean to you, specifically?'
"Lightning."
'Then, what kind of magic are you striving for?'
"To become lightning itself—swift as a flash, allowing me to seize that fleeting moment. Lightning that's unpredictable, lightning that can cross vast distances in an instant. Maybe it's just a faint glow, but I want that faint light to illuminate my future."
'...To grasp fate itself. What a naive dream.'
"Yeah, I'm that kind of naive guy."
The world before Bell shifted dramatically. A colossal black dragon stood in front of him. Its flesh-covered wings had been violently torn off, and a thick black miasma spread outward, quickly engulfing Bell. But he didn't back down—not even a step.
The grinding of clenched teeth echoed from his mouth. It wasn't that he didn't want to retreat—he couldn't. Behind him loomed an endless abyss. There had never been a path back.
This was his fate. This was his choice!
The dragon's massive eyes locked onto Bell, who stood his ground, teeth bared in defiance. Though the creature bore only hatred and disdain for humanity, even it withdrew its scorn. It didn't fear any human challenger—granting humans the right to fight was its fate. Just as it was destined to be challenged by humanity, everything was part of fate's design.
It offered no contempt to those who could meet its gaze. One by one, humanity's champions had left their marks upon its body. The wounds it bore were proof of that acknowledgment. Just like how it now acknowledged this frail challenger standing before it.
[Try to surpass me, hero of mankind!]
The voice rang suddenly in Bell's ears. Surpass me? For the Black Dragon—an embodiment of "evil"—to say such a thing...
But Bell didn't have time to contemplate its meaning. He wasn't particularly clever, and he didn't understand the true significance of the Black Dragon's existence. What he did know was that this was a dead end—a trial he had to face head-on.
"Zzzt—!"
Crackling arcs of blue lightning surged across Bell's skin. A second later, his entire body was enveloped in flashing blue and white currents. The crushing pressure around him lifted. His feet, once paralyzed, stepped forward—and in a flash, he became lightning itself, hurtling toward the Black Dragon.
'Let me surpass you!'
Bell knew he wasn't a hero. He was just a nobody. A counterpart from another world? Were they even the same person? Maybe, at their core, each of them was completely different—their desires and thoughts never fully aligned. Yet, they were all doing the same thing. In that one purpose, they were the same.
To overcome the insurmountable!
Excitement. Joy. Longing. Dreams. Power.
Everything he'd ever imagined was here. But it had all come together into one worn-out, clichéd tale that wasn't even particularly satisfying.
Bell, who usually kept his expressions in check, couldn't help but break into a wide grin. Transformed into lightning, he stomped down hard, leapt into the air, and with fists raised like a fool, charged straight toward the Black Dragon's maw.
'You are my dead end.'
'That's why I have to surpass you—and kill you with my own hands!'
There was no deeper reason. Simply put, the Black Dragon was standing in his way, blocking the path forward. Bell didn't care about anything else.
Saving the world? That kind of lofty purpose was way too grand for someone like him.
People like him didn't need grand ideals—just one reason was enough.
The moment Bell's fist collided with the Black Dragon's maw, everything began to dissolve into nothingness. The two consciousnesses that had come into contact returned to their own bodies.
...
"!?"
Bell's eyes snapped open as he gasped for air, his oxygen-starved body forcing deep, frantic breaths. That black dragon he saw, the voice he heard—they didn't feel fake. So... were those so-called "counterparts" real?
"No way."
"The real Bell Cranel wouldn't think like that. Failure was never an option, and someone in his position wouldn't allow it."
Yeah, Bell couldn't accept that those people were his former selves—or Bell Cranel at all. Anyone who admits defeat could never be the protagonist. At least, he didn't believe that naive, saint-like guy would give up so easily. Maybe that guy was just some melodramatic brat at heart.
"Was it some kind of guidance?"
Bell wasn't sure. Everything had happened so fast, and his brain wasn't exactly keeping up. But one thing he was certain of—it wasn't something the Black Dragon orchestrated. From what it had said, that dragon wasn't the type to play cheap tricks.
He didn't know exactly what just happened, but he accepted it—he was just a transmigrator. Whether or not he was a counterpart didn't matter. The responsibilities tied to this identity were still his to bear. It was a fate he couldn't run from.
Bell let out a slow breath, his overstimulated brain beginning to settle. Maybe it was all just a hallucination from his overactive imagination. That would actually make sense. It sounded like something someone like him—bad at expressing himself—would dream up. Maybe the whole experience was just a side effect of reading that Spell Tome.
'My brain really isn't built for thinking through complicated stuff.'
Bell sighed in exasperation at his own mind. Sure, he was great at daydreaming, but whenever it came to actual thought, he hit a wall. After some consideration, he figured it didn't matter whether it was real, fake, or just a fantasy—he should write it all down before he forgot.
After jotting down some quick notes, Bell flopped back onto the bed. The whole ordeal had left him mentally drained. He'd only just woken up, but reading that Spell Tome had already made him sleepy again. He stretched out his limbs to relax, but his foot bumped into something hard. Sitting up, he saw the Spell Tome lying near his feet. Curious, he picked it up and flipped it open.
'The text disappeared. Looks like it's useless now.'
Tossing the Spell Tome into his four-dimensional space, Bell lay back down and shut his eyes.