Cause.
"Are you Yupra?"
Those trapped inside the Pyramid of Truth experienced countless causes that had shaped their lives.
The Great Swordlord Yupra frowned.
'Damn—how long is this going to keep showing me?'
What his eyes showed was himself in his mid-thirties, a period shameful for someone called the Great Swordlord.
Still, he'd managed his reputation well enough that swordsmen who wanted to face him sometimes came looking.
"Is that so?"
The Yupra of that time sensed the swordsman who had come to see him was astonishingly strong.
Perhaps stronger than himself.
"I've heard the rumor that you're a master of the broken blade. Yet I, too, have my own way with the sword. I challenge you."
Yupra inspected the man with an air of indifference.
'To be honest… I was afraid. My heart was pounding, and the image of my sword being mercilessly shattered by his blade churned in my head.'
"Sorry. Today's my friend's death anniversary. I don't want to commit needless killing."
'I said that lie.'
He'd had countless dead friends.
'I've always been like that.'
While other swordsmen risked everything for their dreams, he fought only those he could beat.
The present-day Yupra spat out, "Damn! So what?" — a surge of wounded pride.
At the time he'd turned his back and walked away, so he couldn't see the other man's face. But—
"...!"
The look in the man's eyes that the Pyramid of Truth had shown him was pure contempt.
"Argh!"
Yupra lunged forward.
"All right! I'll fight! Come at me! You think I can't beat you?"
In the past he'd always fled, but now his skill had improved considerably.
Bang.
The moment blades met, the young swordsman's face shifted into the visage of his old friend Balzac.
"You're unchanged, Yupra. You always drew your sword only when you could win."
"Ugh!"
His heart hammered again.
"You knew. You knew that if you held out like that, many rivals would simply disappear."
"No." No matter how he shook his head, lies didn't work inside the Pyramid of Truth.
The scenery shifted, and Yupra saw Balzac cutting down foes across the battlefield.
'A genius. A real genius.'
Only decades later could Yupra properly gauge his friend's skill.
'What was I doing back then?'
The view shifted quickly, revealing him idly patrolling a civilian district.
'The safest place.'
Killing an enemy general could win glory, but it was likely a death sentence.
'I didn't want to gamble. I was fine living like that.'
While on patrol, Yupra saw flames flickering on the horizon.
"Area magic?"
The mages' tactical bombardment had scorched the whole area—there were no survivors.
He cried out, thinking of his friend. "Balzac!"
He drew his sword and tried to run for the battlefield, but his subordinates grabbed his arms.
"Captain! Please—hold! We can't break formation!"
"Let go of me, you bastards! Balzac is over there!"
Could he truly not break free?
"No." Was his concern for his friend the only thing?
"Cut it out, you bastard!"
Perhaps I… while staring at those consuming flames, had I dreamed of some new hope?
"Argh! Damn it! What do you want me to do?"
When the scene shifted to the funeral, the shouting Yupra's face went pale.
'No.'
The widow Eliana was far more beautiful than he remembered.
Yupra in his thirties thought, 'I loved her first.'
As if that private reason could absolve him, he walked toward her.
"Eliana, you must be very sad."
He stayed at her side through the funeral.
"Was Balzac mad about the sword? He left as a swordsman; it was the finest ending."
She said nothing, and Yupra talked too much.
"I heard Balzac left little inheritance. I'll help you."
"Yupra." Eliana's first words were, "Please don't do this."
The way she looked at him was the same as the man who'd challenged him—contempt and disgust.
"What are you gonna do about it, you pieces of shit!"
Bang!
Yupra's twin blades were stopped by Balzac's sword.
"Yes! I loved her! I loved her so much! So what—did I touch your wife?"
He swung his sword to forget.
He avoided strong opponents, inflated his victories, and after decades of that…
"Da. Great. Swordlord. Yupra."
"Shut up! You think you're any different? If you're so sure, expose your past! It's all the same—cowardly, shameful! Everyone lives like that!"
Yupra was half out of his mind.
"I had many good things in my life! I had pride! Who are you to look down on me?!"
Balzac smiled sadly.
"Yupra."
The voice felt out of time, and for the first time Yupra thought it might not be a hallucination.
"Be happy."
As Balzac sheathed his sword and walked away, the scene around him began to recede.
"Happy?"
Yupra lowered his sword.
"Turn my whole life upside down and tell me to be happy? Is that really what you want to say to me?"
A murderous intent flickered in his eyes as he stared into the darkness.
"How long are you going to stay, Canis?"
In the narrow chamber of the Pyramid, Canis and Arin sat side by side with their backs against the wall.
Quite some time had passed, but neither felt like moving.
"No way," Canis said. "This insane space wants to drive us mad. Think about it—twins? Do you and I resemble each other in any way?"
They did. Not identical like twins, but in House Ilan, it wasn't impossible.
Arin lowered her head.
"What's going to happen to us?"
"No need to think about it! Nothing's going to change. Arin, remember the years we spent together!"
Someone more precious than life.
'I wanted you. I meant to spend my life with you. And now the same blood runs through us?'
Seized by rage, Canis grabbed Arin's shoulders and roughly kissed her.
A bold move, and Arin might have accepted it.
"No!"
She pushed him away, and Canis hit the floor, dazed.
"Why—why are you doing this?"
The girl who could read Canis's emotions since her first period began to cry.
"I'm sorry. I love you too, but what if—"
"No! That can't be. No—we chose to live believing that couldn't be true!"
They'd never said it aloud, but—
"We did. But now we know. At least until we were certain, we felt—"
"This—"
Just as Canis was about to scream in despair,
"There you are."
Red, burning eyes approached from the dark.
"Ares."
"Is everyone safe? We need to find Siok."
Murmuring that as he drew nearer, he was surprised to see Canis and Arin's faces.
"What happened? Why do you two look like that?"
There was no answer.
"Right—you two were affected too."
"Did Ares see the past as well?"
"Hmm. I keep resetting with the crimson-eye ability, but it's a dreadful task. The timelines here are twisted. The fact our party scattered is evidence of that."
Canis muttered, "Why on earth is this doing this to us?"
"There probably isn't a reason."
Ares studied the characters flowing along the wall.
"It's just that kind of space. Here, all causality seems to be dismantled regardless of time. It's like—"
"A god's perspective, right?"
Ares nodded.
"Yes. From outside the universe, time might be just a line. Maybe a god really lives here."
"Let's go."
Canis rose.
"I'll meet it myself. I'll force it to undo what it's done to us. If a god really exists—I'll kill that god."
Each member of the WHO delegation was given a private room.
Seriel, who set her large bag on the desk, was annoyed her morning had been ruined.
"Annoying."
Fermi's face came to mind.
A small incident from schooldays she'd never told anyone.
'If Amy found out she'd try to kill me.' Her face flushed, but at the same time she wondered, 'Would she, though?'
Everyone has secrets.
If you break a person's life down into causes and effects, there are impulses, shames, and pleasures no one else could imagine.
'I didn't know the world would come to this back then.'
She perched on the desk, put a cigarette to her lips, and lit it.
"Phew."
Why had she taken to smoking? Perhaps that, too, was a cause.
When Seriel was in her graduating year.
That day, the nineteenth week of training had ended and they were given a day off.
Amy and Seriel were close friends, but graduates couldn't even dream of leisure.
"Amy, it's a day off—what are you doing?"
"Spirit Zone reinforcement training. You?"
Unlike the tireless Karmis, Seriel was an ordinary person who needed rest.
"I'll probably just get coffee or something."
"Okay, then…let's go to the cafe." Amy said cheerfully, but a troubled look crossed her face.
Sensing it, Seriel clapped her hands together.
"Oh, right! The Primordial Snare sequel comes out today! Amy, sorry—coffee later."
"All right. Let's go to the bookstore."
Not wanting to interrupt her friend's training, Seriel made an excuse.
"No way. That book's dangerous. For people without immunity like you, it's fatal. I'm going. See you tomorrow."
"Hey! Seriel!"
Amy called urgently, but Seriel was already sprinting down the corridor and around the corner.
Could she really not be caught?
The thought flickered briefly, but there was no time for distractions with training ahead.
"…I have to train."
Outside, Seriel exhaled relief that she hadn't been a nuisance.
"I'll amuse myself."
Heading away from school with a light heart, she arrived at a run-down bookstore.
"Hello."
Her hideout away from the noble district, where dark books often drifted—her private refuge.
"You're the one I expected. In the corner."
Seriel, wrapped in a scarf and wearing large glasses, was immediately recognized by the shopkeeper.
She bowed, and her eyes sparkled behind the lenses.
'There it is—the Primordial Snare sequel.' A far-from-beautiful love story between a noble and his maid.
Decadent and explicit enough to be adult fare, but Seriel, who'd devoured romance since childhood, wasn't shocked.
From the first page, the characters from the previous book were making love.
She swallowed and read, slipping deeper into the story.
'The positions reversed.'
The maid had chained the nobleman and approached with a whip.
'Her breath made the man's fine hair stand on end. The jelly-like, wet tongue that slipped from between red lips licked the man's nape—?'
Startled by a sudden voice, Seriel snapped the book shut.
"Eek! Wh-who is it?"
She turned and saw a familiar, but not welcome, face.
"Fermi?"
She pushed her big glasses down to check, and Fermi waved cheerily.
"Hi?"
That mischievous smile of his.