John collapsed, his legs giving out as the adrenaline left his body.
“That thing’s definitely more than just a fox.”
He didn’t know what it was. John had a few theories and multiple ways to test them, but all of those tests would involve approaching the fox, and it wasn’t like Fate nor his animal would just let him do whatever he wanted. However, its existence was definitely a good thing. After all, would anybody but the [Protagonist] be wandering around with something like that?
“There has to be some way to figure this out…”
John had derived that he was either in a standard fantasy or what was known as an “isekai,” based on the setting of the world he was in. He’d often maintained that isekais, the story of dying and reincarnating in another world, was once original but had gotten sloppy and boring, while standard fantasies generally required some level of skill to write well.
This world clearly wasn’t written well, so he had a good idea of what kind of story he was in. Here was where he hit a dead end.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he’d left his Earth, but at the time, there were three kinds of “isekai” stories being put out. The old traditional, where someone was summoned to defeat the demon king as the hero. The up and coming, where the main character wasn’t the hero but was secretly more powerful than the “hero of the prophecy.” And finally, stories where someone would be reincarnated as some inanimate object. John ignored the last one. This definitely wasn’t that.
So what kind of story was it?
Hero and protagonist. Two terms that commonly overlapped but weren’t necessarily the same thing. Of course, the story he was in could be a story where- no, that was way too complicated. John didn’t want to think of the implications of more complex settings. Besides, those kinds of stories usually required an [Author] with a brain. John shook his head. He could feel his brain overheating.
“Man. Wouldn’t it be super cool if there was someone who could answer all my questions? I think that would be really nice.”
There was no response.
“Fuck you.”
He didn’t have the energy to move, though, so the only option available to him was to sit and rest. After a while, the aches in his body were beginning to subside, so he got up and looked around, stretching the remaining sore spots. With no one nearby, John’s face had settled into an expression eerily similar to Prota’s: no expression, no emotion, nothing.
He bent down to pick Prota up, slinging her onto his back, wincing while doing so, still not fully recovered from throwing his body around. However, he didn’t feel like waking Prota up. Would she even be able to walk back on her own?
“John. You’re aware of this, but you’re making a very bold assumption.”
“...?” Why was Zero speaking now?
“Are you sure you want to label Fate as the [Protagonist] so early on? There’s tons of other people you have to meet.”
John grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. He knew that making such an assumption was rash, but still…
“It’s easier, all right? If someone else comes along, it’s not like I can’t change my mind, right?”
Zero shrugged. “Look, I’m just giving you the idea. I’m not saying you’re right or wrong. It’s just something to think about. You might end up making an assumption that screws you over.”
“You’re invoking Chekhov’s gun here. I thought we agreed not to do that.”
“Nothing I say invokes Chekhov’s gun,” Zero said smugly. “I’m just messing with you.”
“Fuck you.”
One crisis had been averted, but the conversation had reminded John about something.
Chekhov’s gun.
The principle that every element in a story should be relevant and that irrelevant things should be removed. If a gun is mentioned at some point in the story, it must be fired. And for John, knowing of its existence didn’t mean he couldn’t load it himself. However, it did mean that he could load a gun that would never be fired.
How many guns had been left untriggered? How many guns would never be fired?
If Zero was bringing this up, did it have any relevance? No, Zero had said he was just messing with him. But, at the same time, why mess with the story when it wasn’t needed? How was any of what was happening right now relevant to anything?
“You’re thinking too much,” Zero said. “I can see the steam coming out of your head. Just go back and cool down.”
~~~
“Sir,” Fate said, letting himself into Albert’s office.
“Oh, kid. You’re back. What’s up?”
The burly man leaned back in his chair, chewing on a cigar.
“Their performance was satisfactory.”
“You mean they completed the quest?” Albert exclaimed, leaning forward. “By themselves?”
“Yes. The girl is especially formidable. She has an excellent combat sense, good durability, and seems to be able to dual cast.”
“Dual cast… isn’t that the trait of a B core mage at the very least?”
“Yes. Which makes things all the more strange, doesn’t it?”
“She’s an D class mage, if I remember correctly.” Albert rubbed his chin. “Are you saying we perhaps misjudged her capabilities? That’s something to consider quite seriously…”
Albert looked into Fate’s eyes. “How about the boy?”
John was the one Albert was interested in. Surely someone like that had some kind of secret, right?
“John? John… he’s a good fighter, but nothing special. I’m not sure what you’d expect from him.”
“...is that so?”
Fate nodded. “On top of that… I’m not sure if you want to hear this, but Prota, the girl, defeated most of the goblins on her own. Her stamina was incredible.”
“Does she know mana breathing or something?” Albert exclaimed. “What the hell?”
“I don’t know. All I can say is that John, the boy, did not play any significant part in the subjugation.”
“Then is he even qualified?”
Fate thought back to the strange encounter he’d had with the boy. John wasn’t qualified. That was obvious. But the movements he’d shown during the fight with his fox, the confidence in his abilities…
And the gun. That wasn’t something of this world, was it? John was definitely weaker, but of the two, he was the more interesting one.
“He’s qualified enough.”
Albert sighed in disappointment. And here he thought he’d found someone interesting… But then again, an outstanding child was right in front of him, right now.
“Say. Are you sure you don’t want to become an A class adventurer? The offer still stands, you know.”
“No, thank you, sir. I’ll be leaving then.”
“Kids these days,” Albert grumbled. Fate just nodded and walked out.
~~~
“John. John, wake up,” Prota said, shaking John back and forth.
“I’m tired,” John muttered, pulling his blanket above his head. “Wake me up tomorrow.”
“Nn. Wake up now,” Prota insisted.
There was no response.
“John,” Prota repeated, but there was a hint of danger in her voice.
“I’m up, I’m up!” John gasped, throwing the blanket off. He’d learned the hard way that waking up of your own will was a hell of a lot better than getting frozen.
“Ugh… Everything hurts,” John complained, stretching. He ran his hands through his messy hair, then went out to wash up. Since [Reset] would save him no matter what, he hadn’t been given many recovery based abilities. Well, at a certain level of [Infinity], anything was possible, but something like that wouldn’t be happening any time soon. [Determination], too, was supposed to help with pain, but that wasn’t active either, was it?
All John could do was complain and take some pain killers.
In a few hours, they were back at the adventurer’s guild. The annoying noble was nowhere to be seen, thankfully, so the building was infinitely more bearable.
“Here,” John grumbled, tossing a sack onto the counter. Inside were thirty goblin ears, proof of completion from the goblin subjugation quest.
“Wh- what?” Katheryn gasped, counting carefully. Even after counting, she checked again as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.
“Hey! Quit it with the counting!”
“A-apologies. I’ll go get your reward immediately,” the receptionist muttered, mumbling to herself as she ran to the back.
“You did good, Prota,” John said, patting her head. “Really good.”
Catherine came scrambling back with a bag.
“Forty- forty silver,” she gasped. “Here you go.”
He’d received fifty gold for the demon subjugation quest, which made him rich enough, but… forty silver was pretty good. For reference, the inn they stayed at cost one silver a night, and a meal at said inn was fifty copper a person.
The meals weren’t very good…
Prota, who had no idea about how rich John truly was, stared at the shining silver coins with a watering mouth.
“F-food,” she muttered, her eyes shining. She swallowed and wiped her mouth, then continued to stare.
John looked down at his little sister, and a bit of guilt crept in. She was ridiculously mature for her age, but he had to remember that she was also still a child. It felt strange, the dichotomy between her two mental states, but he’d just chalked it up to bad writing and moved on with it. He’d have to make sure her childish side was preserved as well.
“Come on, Prota. Let’s go eat something.”
“A-actually… the boss wants to see you,” Catherine said. “Something about a deal.”
“Oh, that,” John said dismissively. “Right.”
John opened the door to Albert’s room and was greeted with the thick smell of cigar smoke. It was the expensive stuff, but John still hated it. He coughed a few times and walked in.
“You really did it, you crazy kid,” Albert said, unsure of whether to be pleased or annoyed. “You finished the quest on your own.”
“Yeah. You don’t have to sound so amazed,” John grumbled. “Question, though. Was that really a quest that needed B rank adventurers?”
“You’re calling that easy?” Albert frowned. “You breezed through thirty goblins?”
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“I- well, it wasn’t easy,” John shrugged, “but did it really need the manpower you said it did? The system starts at F rank, right? So C ranks shouldn’t even be that bad.”
Albert sighed. “Listen, kid. I’m sure you have delusions of being a pro adventurer, subjugating powerful monsters like all the others, you’ve got to understand that adventuring is a job like any other. Adventurers are simply people who take requests from others. Most quests are just chores. Collect this. Deliver that. Anyone below C rank is rarely fighting, if they’re fighting at all. Your heroes might be powerful S rank adventurers conquering dungeons, but it’s not all it seems to be.”
“You’re telling me… I would’ve been a chore boy, huh…” John shivered. He didn’t even want to think about collecting mushrooms for a month.
“Well, you’re C rank now. I can’t say that I’m not impressed. Although…”
Albert began to let off an intimidating aura. “I heard you didn’t do anything?”
“...that’s slander to my name.”
“It’s not slander if it’s true, you little punk!”
“Wh- how would you even find out something like that?”
Albert grinned deviously. “Oh, I have my ways.”
John cursed under his breath.
“Well, a deal’s a deal, you little shit. If you can’t handle the heat, then you better prepare to get burned. If you get hurt due to your own incompetence, that’s your own fault.”
The head of the adventurer’s guild slid two cards over, bearing their new ranks. John nodded as he and Prota accepted them, but something about what Albert had said piqued his interest.
“...hey. aren’t dungeons supposed to be really dangerous? If you’re telling me that you needed a party of C rank adventurers to deal with thirty goblins, then how is a party of B ranks supposed to deal with a dungeon?”
Albert sighed again. “Public opinion. People were complaining that we were leaving dungeons and their rewards to only the elite, so we had to lower the restriction from A to B. Honestly, if we wanted to keep everyone alive, we’d leave it at A, but…” he shrugged. “If they want to risk their lives, then that’s their choice. Besides, thirty goblins is a lot. I don’t know what kind of monsters you two are, but to deal with so many… dungeons are gruelling, but you’re usually not fighting more than a few monsters at a time. You’ll see. That is, if you keep going the way you’re going.”
John nodded. “Thanks, old man,” he grinned. “See you around.”
As John and Prota left, Bren slipped out of the shadows.
“You want me to tail them?”
“Yeah. If we can trust them… that would be incredible. Based on what Fate said, the girl has incredible talent. The boy is just her guardian. They’re incredible people. If you told me that they were secret weapons, I’d believe it.”
“How so?”
“They feel like soldiers. It’s crazy, I know, but they seem like people who’ve already been through dozens of battles. That’s not something talent or training can get you. Only raw combat, real fighting with your life on the line.”
“So you’re saying-”
“I’m not saying anything. Just that we’ve got some very interesting kids on our hands.” Albert grinned. “What I’d give to fight by their sides…”
Albert raised his hand in an attempt to summon magic, but stopped as pains spread across his chest, sending him into a violent cough. A bit of blood came out of his mouth, but he ignored it and stared at his hands.
“I wish I could go myself. To stand on the battlefield again…”
“I’m sure there’s a cure for your core, sir.”
“It’s not worth it. I’m old. Let’s leave this to the new generation.”
~~~
“...hey, Prota. Don’t those waiters look kinda weird?”
John frowned as he and Prota were sitting at a table in a restaurant, waiting for their meal to come. John had initially planned on celebrating, but he couldn’t help but notice that the waiters looked a bit strange.
They looked a bit like Prota, not that he would ever say that. Emotionless, never talking, just walking around like robots and serving food without a word. The waiter who’d taken their order just nodded and did a 180 back to the kitchen.
“Mm… they look a little bit like John,” Prota nodded.
“...harsh,” John muttered to himself, but she wasn’t wrong. After all, he wasn’t all that different from her.
The waiters were actually a combination of the worst of both Prota and John. They never reacted to anything, their eyes completely dead inside. John watched as a customer yelled at one of them, but the waiter just nodded and left as soon as the customer was done with their rant. They were a bit creepy, to be honest. To be honest, John no longer had an appetite after seeing something like that, but it didn’t stop Prota from digging in.
“Keep eating,” John said after a while. It wasn’t something Prota needed to worry about, but he had to know.
Something didn’t feel right.
“Hey. Do you guys have a manager or something?” John said to one of the waiters. The man didn’t respond and simply led John to the kitchen, then to a little office in the back.
John was expecting some kind of evil mastermind, but inside was a completely average looking man.
“Oh, hello. I’m a bit busy at the moment. Is there an issue?” the man said.
“...are you the owner of this place?”
“Well, yes. Is there a problem?” the man frowned.
“Uh… well… what’s up with your waiters?”
“Our waiters?”
“Yeah, they’re all… kinda creepy. It’s… it’s a little unnerving.”
“You mean the slaves?”
John nearly gagged. Slaves? Seriously? There was no way the [Author] was pulling this card. Were they scraping the bottom of the barrel for ideas? Surely there was a conflict more creative than a slave camp.
He didn’t say any of that. “Slaves? Really? Is that… well… ethical?”
“Are you new here?” the manager looked annoyed. This must’ve been something the public was aware of.
“Slaves here are criminals. It’s really a very ethical system to help reform them back to society. Any criminals that have committed relatively minor offences such as stealing aren’t imprisoned. Instead, a spell is cast on them to make them very docile, and they are sold to anyone who wants to buy them for menial chores. They can’t refuse, but a portion of the money made is stored away for them so that at the end of their sentence, they can easily re-integrate back into society. Did you really not know this? Our town is quite famous for it. It’s not called the Town of Beginnings for nothing. A lot goes on here.”
John raised his eyebrows. That really did seem like a good system. Had he been mistaken about the conflict they’d be facing?
“Uh… my bad. I just- they were kinda creepy,” he apologized sheepishly.
“Well, if that’s all, I have work to get back to,” the man frowned. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Yeah, thanks,” John said, tossing the man a gold coin. The owner smiled, his opinion of John seemingly better, but John just didn’t want the man causing any problems.
“Zero. Is he telling the truth?”
“You could just ask someone else to determine something like that. Besides, aren’t you usually pretty good at identifying stuff like that? Be a little more confident in yourself.”
John rubbed his chin, returning to the table. Prota was done at this point, so he paid the bill and left, casting one more look back into the restaurant before returning to their inn. Prota fell asleep immediately, probably still exhausted from the amount of work she’d put in earlier, but John was having trouble getting rest. The slaves from before were still bothering him.
“...hey, Zero. You got me to bring up Chekhov’s gun intentionally, right?”
There was no reply, which was basically a yes. Surely the slaves had some kind of importance, right? But then what?
“Nh… no, don’t go!”
John practically jumped out of his bed as he heard Prota cry out in her sleep. Nightmare? He lit a candle and looked over, but she was still asleep. However, she was clutching her pillow tightly, and her body was trembling in fear.
Prota hadn’t had nightmares in ages. Sure, when John had first picked her up, she’d regularly suffered from nightmares, but those had slowly gone away. And besides… don’t go? What did that mean?
“Sorry… I’ll protect… protect you…” the girl continued to mumble. “So don’t leave…”
Oh.
“...maybe I should’ve held back with the [Resets].”
Those words were familiar. The first time he’d died, and subsequently, the first time Prota had reset. Was that still something traumatic for her?
“Stonger… need to get stronger…”
What was she talking about? Stronger?
“You don’t understand people very well, do you?”
“I used to.”
Zero popped out and sighed.
“Do you not understand the relationship between you two? Come on, this isn’t even complex. Just for a second, really think about it from the perspective of a [Story].”
“...”
“John. The whole world was against her. You know what that feels like. You reached out when no one else did. You’re the one person who didn’t hate her. The light at the end of an endlessly dark tunnel.”
“That was because-”
“The why doesn’t matter, dumbass,” Zero said, getting a little annoyed. “You’re being uselessly dense. You saved her, John. You’re the only person she has, and if you leave, she’ll have no one. Not a single soul will help her. So, who do you think she needs to cling to?”
“...that’s stupid.”
“That’s also how people think. It’s not just fiction, John.”
“...”
“That girl doesn’t- no, she can’t care about herself. For a lot of her life, she was treated like trash. She herself thought of herself as trash. Don’t you remember how you found her? Her story? She stopped caring. You yourself said that she might not survive for much longer. You literally gave her a second chance at life, and you told her to be your protector. So she’s going to focus on that task with everything she’s got.”
“So then what? Should I have not told her to protect me?”
“She needs something to dedicate her life to, John,” Zero said sadly. “It’s… this wasn’t something you could avoid. As much as it might pain you, it’s part of the process.”
John grit his teeth as he stared at Prota’s trembling body. Why? Why did she care about him so much? He treated her well, sure, but in the end… well, he didn’t know what would happen then, but he could only get so close to her.
Why was she clinging on to a false hope so desperately?
“Sorry… for being weak…”
After a bit, John let his hands fall to his side. Was this what fate- no, the [Plot] had in store for him? A partner he’d inevitably have to lose? He got up and put his hand on Prota’s head, and she stopped shaking. Her breathing became steadier, and soon she fell back into a relaxed sleep.
“Damn…” John walked over to the window and stared out into the stars.
John was used to being in control of any situation. The world was a [Story], after all. No matter how creative the [Author] was, there were certain rules to writing that had to be followed. [Stories] had to follow paths, and all John needed were certain details in order to know where that path was going.
But Prota was an individual. Someone who acted on their own, someone who was connected to him in a very different way than the [Story] was.
“How do I deal with something like this?”
~~~
“Doctor, sir.”
A large man carrying a massive sword stood in front of Doctor’s desk. Unlike the last underling, he seemed confident but still carried a massive amount of respect towards the small man in front of him.
“What is it?”
“There are two new targets of interest.”
“Two? Really? What’s so interesting about them?”
“A boy named John Quarta and a girl named Prota Char. From our report, the boy is no issue. He has no core. The girl, however…”
The man broke character for a moment and fidgeted. His eyes shifted back and forth, and he was clearly hesitant to say what was coming next.
“Well? What is it? I don’t have all day!”
“Sir. Please keep your calm. The last time you got upset, you ended up breaking a lot of the lab…”
“All right, all right, just spit it out already!”
“The girl might be able to use [Soul Siphon]. It’s just a theory, but a small amount of wind magic was copied-”
The large man stopped talking. Doctor had pulled his legs in, and he was rocking back and forth on his chair.
“Soul… Soul Siphon… it’s been years, years since I heard those words… finally, it’s back. It’s mine. My years of research, my years of studying, back in my hands…”
His haggard face was grinning maliciously, a strange and cruel light in his eyes.
“The ability… to become god…”
He kept muttering to himself over and over, and the large man sighed. He turned around and left, leaving the strange man to mutter to himself.