It took us some time to travel back.
Though there were fewer monsters on the road than before, those that did appear were still enough to trouble us.
Each encounter slowed our pace, each battle a reminder of how fragile our strength had become.
But it was worth it. By the time we reached the capital, Miraculum was back to his normal self, or at least, he appeared to be.
After reporting everything to Mirabel and checking Cassio for any signs of the illness, relief washed over me when we confirmed she was unaffected.
We made our way to their new quarters, which Mirabel had been preparing while I was away.
Normally, the children of nobles are raised by servants, typically by the head maid who oversees their upbringing until they are old enough for formal training.
Our circumstances, however, never allowed for such arrangements.
Even if they had, Mirabel had waited too long to have children just to hand them off to someone else.
We chose a different path. Once they turned five, we would train them ourselves, raising and guiding them together.
Only four days remained until the war with Drandafal began.
The armies prepared, recruits trained, and the kingdom itself seemed to run on borrowed time.
The room Mirabel prepared was large and warm.
Two beds stood opposite each other with a blue-and-black carpet embroidered with black roses between them.
Dozens of folded clothes lined the walls; Mirabel changed them often, sometimes several times a day, a habit born of quiet care.
Ri'Ishtar had been given a small plot of land near the castle, complete with his own personal office.
Now, he stood beside us, carefully watching over Miraculum as he released a slow flow of mana into a crystal orb.
Cassio sat quietly on her bed nearby, reading a slim book on mana theory, her small hands turning the pages with practiced patience.
I observed the orb, its light pulsing faintly as Ri'Ishtar's medicine flowed through Miraculum's veins.
The boy looked exhausted but not suffering. The treatment was holding.
The illness was insidious. When it first takes hold, the victim experiences internal bleeding.
During combat, it is almost indistinguishable from wounds, as most attacks bypass external durability.
Yet the blood that spills is tainted with mana, draining one's power rapidly.
The second stage weakens the senses, sight, hearing, touch, all diminishing as the body's foundation collapses.
The final stage brings the cracks, the body fracturing under its own failing lifeforce.
Much like a mage who burns lifeforce when their mana runs dry, the illness consumes the very essence of its host until nothing remains.
I stared at my own fingers and brought them to my lips. "Alright. So how do you make this?"
Mirabel, curious, glanced at Ri'Ishtar. He exhaled slowly. "To be perfectly honest, it's difficult."
I tilted my head. "Difficult how?"
"Combining mana with lifeforce is nearly impossible," he said, his tone sharp yet calm.
Lifeforce fuels life, the very concept of being. Mana is the building block of all that exists.
What I'm doing with the medicine is essentially reconstructing myself from the inside out, at a speed and potency healing magic could never accomplish.
"Healing magic can bring someone back from the brink," he continued, pushing his glasses up.
"But it cannot create mana because it consumes mana. My formula first rebuilds the vessel, the body, and then restores the life within. Think of it as creating a replacement structure where the illness has devoured the old one."
Once you surpass the tenth wall, you encounter the Core.
Unlike nature or will, a Core isn't a tangible thing. It's more of a concept, the essence of you.
As long as memory of oneself endures, so do you. The Trinity of Self ensures you cannot be erased by magic.
He looked at me, eyes narrowing. "Memory magic ties to the Historic Veil. To transcend it, one needs an unshakable bond with their Trinity of Self. Strength of self determines whether you survive the crossing."
[Nicholas did not know this, but the Trinity of Self was wholly encompassing over the value it embodied, ruling it without rival.]
It seems The Trinity of Self was complacent and locked in a moment, regardless of events.
Composite Time disregarded, they transcended the concept, so if they were attacked in the "past" it would do nothing to the present self.
The same for me, now that I had fully actualized my power, any attack in the past in my eyes wouldn't affect me currently.
I let out a long breath. "Don't worry about time or money. Just focus on making it."
Ri'Ishtar nodded. "I'll comply. But I implore you to take your vial as well. This one will last him a week, if I'm lucky."
I reached into my pocket, pulled the vial free, and gently lifted Miraculum's head.
Pouring the contents down his throat, I steadied him as he coughed, his expression twisting.
"Nasty," he muttered, looking up at me.
Mirabel sighed in relief, while Ri'Ishtar chuckled softly.
He clapped his hands. "I'll start producing more, then. I'll leave you two to discuss the important matters."
He left the room mumbling something about becoming rich, the greedy bastard never changing.
Compared to Ouroboros, his greed was tame, even endearing. Ouroboros's, however, was vile.
"Alright," I said in a low, steady tone. "You can go."
Miraculum hopped off the bed and ran over to Cassio, peeking over her shoulder at her book. Mirabel turned to me, smiling softly.
"So, what do you want to do?" she asked. "I don't suppose you plan on becoming a doctor?"
I almost laughed, but instead I brought my hands up and gently cupped Mirabel's cheeks. My thumbs brushed against her skin, cool yet soft, as her eyes searched mine. "If it means you three can live," I said quietly, "I'll become anything."
[Among the many worlds, timelines, and possibilities, there seemed to be only one where this could be possible when Nicholas was involved.]
Perhaps it was my dark, controlling nature. Or perhaps it was simply my own laziness catching up to me.
[Nicholas made it hard to see the future, hard to warp time, hard to change events, and it was all in an attempt to grasp a fragile thread.]
Mirabel's voice broke through my thoughts, soft but steady.
She spoke even as my palms pressed against her cheeks. "I don't want you to die, so I'll become the podium on which you stand."
[It was because of this that Nicholas was called the Fragile King, a truly fitting name.]
I gritted my teeth at the voice's words.
Mirabel noticed the tension instantly; her brows knit in quiet worry. "Do you not want that?" she asked, her tone barely above a whisper.
Before I could answer, she moved.
In a sudden, fluid motion she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close with such force that even from a fighter's perspective it was an impressive feat.
Her embrace pressed against me like a shield, warm yet unyielding. I couldn't break free. I didn't want to.
"Nick," she said, her voice fierce but trembling. "I won't let you become what you were during the fight against Griffin. You must allow me to do this."
I exhaled and raised my hands slowly, sliding them from her sides to her waist.
Her warmth pressed against me, steadying me even as my heart raced. "Trust me," I murmured, "I would never refuse your commands."
[Nicholas was a pushover, and a fool, an Endless Fool, who was also fragile.]
I ignored the voice and simply let myself enjoy her embrace. For a moment, the noise of the world dimmed. Then it spoke again, far more ominously.
[His happiness would last little. He would suffer and struggle unless he rose above his past self.]
I clung to her tightly, tighter than I cared to admit.
My fingers trembled as they gripped the fabric at her back, and she shivered as though she could feel every thought running through my mind.
As if reading it, she began stroking my hair in slow, deliberate motions.
"Don't worry," she whispered, her lips close to my ear.
"Miraculum and Cassio will be safe. I won't die. You won't die. Our story will have a happy ending. I promise it."
[Nicholas had the nerve of a deity, so much so that he could openly contest this world.]
I had realized many things during this life of mine, or rather, this new life.
For starters, I am strong. Wholly encompassing of my unique nature, as all are.
But my uniqueness comes from being infinitely distinct from everything else.
When I used Dark Alter to manipulate the Darkness and then affect Earth, what I truly did was use the Darkness to alter Earth's Set Time.
I created a predestined event in this world, something that, regardless of what occurred, would inevitably happen.
The first event in that manipulation was the death of Griffin.
The second is the passing of my illness to my child.
However, there are more. There must be more. There is no way this world would be so lenient.
[Nicholas was right. Or rather, he had made himself right. Seven distinct events would occur. He had willed it so.]
It is my one wish that my family be able to continue living despite my greed.
I have an overwhelming greed to change, a lust to conquer, an envy to feel, a gluttony to live, a pride to succeed, and a wrath to act.
Yes, it was all of these sins that gave birth to my choice, but what defined that choice was not them.
It was sloth.
It was because of my infinite slothfulness that instead of starting from the end, I chose to rewrite the beginning. I was too lazy to do otherwise.
[Nicholas was right. He's a lazy fool. The Lazy Fool.]