Vitra looked at me with his usual gaze. From the calmness of his face, it seemed he had already come to terms with Rikel's death. His features were steady again, yet in his eyes burned a new fire—flames that had been kindled by the loss of his brother. Leaning back in his chair, he studied me for a moment before speaking with a faint smile.
"Are you certain you want to attend the Nalanda Institute?"
"Yes." I answered without a shred of hesitation, meeting his eyes directly.
He exhaled slowly, his tone measured. "Although the issue with your mana core has been miraculously resolved, and your growth rate is commendable… the competition in Nalanda is fierce." He paused, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "Are you sure you can withstand that pressure?"
"Yes." I nodded again, firm and unwavering.
"Hm." His eyes narrowed slightly, though not with doubt—more with the weight of sincerity. "Knowing you, you won't be swayed by the presence of rivals. Still, there are many whose talents could discourage even the most determined." His voice carried genuine concern, like an elder advising a younger one on the thorns ahead.
But what did it matter? Whether others held greater talent or not, it had nothing to do with me. As long as I continued walking forward, no matter how many rushed ahead, it was meaningless—because I only needed to reach the end alone.
"I don't know about others," I finally replied, my tone steady. "Nor do I care about them. I only want what I want. And what I want is to go there—to learn what may be useful for myself."
Hearing my words, Vitra's smile brightened. He rose from his seat and turned toward the window, where sunlight streamed in, clasping his hands behind his back.
"You've heard of the Second Sword Saint, haven't you?" he asked, his voice carrying the weight of an old legend.
I understood at once—he was speaking of the man who had lived over a million years ago, in the medieval era. His name was etched into history as one of unrivaled strength and unparalleled kindness.
"Yes, I know about him," I replied.
"Good." Vitra nodded, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Although there are no reliable records about his life, people say he was the incarnation of a god. More than that, he held a view of divinity far different from those hypocrites of the Holy Alliance." He paused, lifting a hand to brush back his hair as if debating whether to speak further. Then, with quiet weight, he asked:
"Do you believe a god truly exists?"
I fell silent. His question pressed deep into my mind, and I found myself sinking into contemplation. Countless religions spoke of gods, yet each claimed theirs alone was the greatest. And all of them declared the same verdict—that those who refused to believe would suffer eternal damnation.
How foolish. They preach of benevolence and mercy, yet when someone dares to question their god, they cry out "heretic" and demand blood. What kind of god would demand such worship? Would a god so petty, who grows wrathful simply because mortals refuse to bow, truly be worthy of reverence?
No.
If there is a god worthy of worship, then it must be one who does not discriminate between believer and unbeliever, but instead judges people for their actions—for who they are and what they do.
"Yes, I believe there are gods," I said at last. "But I have no faith in them."
It was the truest expression of what I felt. I had always known—deep in my bones—that something greater than all who walked this world must exist. Yet within me, there was not even a hair's breadth of faith.
Why should I have faith in them when I am alive, breathing, and walking this path by my own strength? No. If anything, what I desire is to replace that power, to reach that height myself, and to see with my own eyes what it means to be a god.
Countless beings were born with abnormal strength, with talent that seemed to defy heaven itself. Yet in the end, they all died—and not one of them chose their death willingly. Their lives, in some way or another, were dictated, bound by chains they could not break.
But I do not wish to live like that.
If I want to live, then I will live. If I wish to die, then I will die. I will not allow my life to be controlled by gods, fate, or any other being. There is no meaning in living shackled, dancing on strings pulled by another.
Only I will decide what happens to me.
No matter what, I will pursue that goal—to grasp the power to decide my own existence. And if I fail, if I fall and die along the way, then so be it. It will only mean my efforts were insufficient. But at least I will have walked that path with my own will, not another's.
Vitra nodded slowly, his gaze sharp yet calm.
"Hmm. Your mindset is good," he said, "but it differs from mine. I think gods do not exist at all. It's just people inventing stories to soothe their inferiority and weakness. They say: 'All the sins you've committed will be judged by god, not me—so I forgive you.'"
He paused, letting the words linger before continuing.
"But do you know why they claim they forgave?"
"…" I stayed silent, waiting.
"It is because they are afraid—afraid of their own weakness, afraid that the one who wronged them will escape justice. So they cling to the idea that god will punish in their place." His voice carried disdain. "But tell me—what meaning is there in that?"
No, there isn't, I thought. In truth, there isn't any meaning in life to begin with. And yet… humans are fascinating creatures. We give ourselves meaning—through love, revenge, success, failure, knowledge. Without these self-made meanings, life would be nothing but emptiness, stripped of all excitement.
So why should restrictions like love, morality, or faith be treated as absolutes? Are they not just chains, meant to bind the extreme desires of men? But those who break free of such chains—those who dare to pursue what truly stirs their souls—are the ones who come closest to finding life's true meaning. The tragedy, however, is that by the time most discover it, it is already too late.
For me, it was the same.
In my previous life, when I roamed the battlefield drenched in blood, I began to question my existence. I had already lost my mother and Charlotte. There was no reason left for me to live… and yet I kept moving forward.
And in the end, I discovered my reason.
It was to pursue excitement.
My goal of becoming a god has never been about ruling others or standing unrivaled. In truth, it is about chasing that raw, unrestrained excitement of existence itself. That is why I walk this path. That is why I pursue the impossible.
The way I feel about being free of every restriction… it's almost like death itself. And death too, in its own way, seems like a pursuit of excitement.
Yet sometimes, a sliver of fear creeps in. I wonder—if I truly reach that point, what then? Will I still feel the same thrill I chase so desperately? Or will I find only emptiness waiting at the end of it all?
Deep down, I already know the answer. Perhaps it will be empty. Perhaps the pursuit itself is the only meaning there ever was.
But even so… I want it. I want to feel that excitement with my own hands, even if it lasts only a moment. I want to touch that fleeting meaning, no matter how hollow it proves to be.
That is why I pursue this goal. That is why I will not stop.
"Although you are still young… at the same time, I feel you are not," Vitra said, his voice steady. "That is why I'm telling you these things." He paused, then continued in a gentler tone.
"From your eyes, I can tell—you don't have much interest in the ordinary pursuits others chase. To you, life itself feels like the only true meaning. But listen… you don't have to be like those who are simply strong or kind. You can live however you wish. Make choices for yourself. And sometimes… friends or lovers can become another meaning of life. Bonds like those can carry weight far beyond strength."
He turned back to me with a faint smile.
The man before me felt completely different from the one I remembered in my previous life. Back then, I thought he hated me. Perhaps it was only because I never had the chance to speak with him, to truly understand him. But in this life, even if only a little, I had begun to grasp who he really was.
…Not that it changed anything. I already knew the meaning of my life, and nothing could steer me from that path.
"You can attend the Nalanda Institute," Vitra said at last. "Try to make some friends. You may even find meaning through bonds you never expected."
"Yes. I understand." I replied calmly.