John clenched his teeth as he stared at the fox woman Fate called Kit. It was strange. John hadn’t felt any energy coming from the fox, and he considered himself to be pretty good at sensing the energy of others. But the woman… that was some considerable energy, and John suspected that this wasn’t all. His face quickly loosened up, but he hadn’t covered his expression fast enough.

“Oh, dear. It seems I wasn’t considerate of those around me.”

Kit’s mouth curved upwards into a mischievous grin, and John’s heart sank. He really didn’t want to deal with this kind of character.

The fox introduced herself with a bow.

“My name is Kit Ninetails. Des- Fate’s mentor, teacher, and partner. But, most of all, a Mythic of the Ninetails clan.”

There was a brief silence, but John was confused. Was that it? He felt like she was supposed to say something impressive. No one said anything, so he turned to see Prota staring with wide eyes.

“Sorry… a what?”

Everyone stared at him.

“Oh, come on, you’ve gotta be kidding me. Is it that big of a deal?”

“Are you kidding? You just asked about one of the most powerful beings on the continent. You don’t know what a Mystic is?”

“What, so she’s a god?”

Kit continued to stare at him, but unlike Fate and Prota, her expression was more that of amusement than surprise. After a while, she unexpectedly burst out into laughter.

“I’ve been watching you, but it seems there’s still so much about you that I don’t understand,” Kit said, wiping her eyes. She cocked her head and looked at him.

“You’re interesting, aren’t you?”

“At least I’m not a ripoff of a certain video game character.”

“...huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Alright then. As an apology, I’ll explain.”

John nodded. And waited. And waited some more. Kit just stood there and smiled mischievously at him.

“Oh. I see. Good one. Come on, Prota, let’s go home.”

“Oh?” Kit’s smile grew wider.

In an instant, she dashed towards John, the force of the wind blowing his hood off. He continued to stare at her with a bored expression. It seemed she was looking for him to react, or even just flinch, but he wasn’t going to be giving anything.

“You truly are curious,” Kit giggled. “Don’t worry, I really will explain this time.”

John shrugged. “Uh, sure. But, um…” he glanced at Prota, who was still lying on his lap.

Fate was feeding her a potion, so she’d recovered, but it was probably better to let her rest, right?

“John,” she wheezed. “I’m ok.”

He looked at her with concerned eyes, but she nodded.

“Well, guess that’s that. So, explain?”

“I can assume that you know what mana beasts are, at least, right?”

“Uh… why don’t you explain? Just as a reminder of sorts.”

Once again, everyone stared at John as if he’d just told her that he needed to think about breathing. Did he not know any of this?

“What’s wrong with being a shut in?”

“You were a shut in? In this world? How did you even manage that?” Fate said.

“Hey. Don’t judge.”

“I- uh, hm. Well, mana beasts are a bit different from regular beasts. Certain animals have a certain affinity with mana that allows them to absorb and use it. In short, they are beasts that can use magic. However, not all beasts that can absorb magic do so. This is what differentiates between a beast and a mana beast.”

John nodded. “Makes sense.”

“A little bit of history now. The gods, Celeste, Solaria, Gaia and Luna, needed help taking care of the world. Due to some rules, they are incapable of directly descending and altering the world. As a result, they granted divinity to exactly two of every mana beast.”

John nodded again, but his ears perked up upon hearing two things.

One, there were four gods, not one, although the way Kit had said “Celeste” made him think that this Celeste was the head honcho, with the other three subservient to her. Besides, there was a clear message behind the names.

Solaria, the sun. Luna, the moon. Gaia, the earth, and Celeste. The author hadn’t made it discreet.

Second, and this was the more important thing, was that the gods couldn’t directly descend. That was good. Very good.

“Those mana beasts gained bipedal form. The form of the gods. Their intelligence and magic skills exploded exponentially, to the point where they could contest with dragons. Each type of Mythic had children, and those children had children, and they all eventually formed clans.”

John nodded. “I can figure out the rest, thanks. So, you’re a Mythic?”

Kit smirked. “What, are you finally in awe of the power before you?”

“Not particularly. How old are you?”

A little bit of killing intent leaked out of Kit. “It’s not polite to ask a lady’s age.”

“You’re like, a hundred or something, right?”

Kit turned back to Fate, who shrugged.

“Just how closely have you been observing Fate? No, even then, you couldn’t have known that I was a Mystic, so just what are you…?”

“Huh? What, was I close?” John grinned.

Kit’s grin disappeared. “Do… do I look old?”

She turned to Fate and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. “Fate! Did I turn into some kind of granny? Quick, do you have a mirror?”

“Wha- wha- stop it- no, you look the same. Like, seventeen, eighteen?”

Kit turned to John with a truly curious look.

“You have incredible intuition. Are you sure you’re not part of the Owlin clan?”

“The what?”

“Another clan of Mythics,” Kit explained. “Although, I can guess what you’re about to say next.”

“Yeah. I’m human.”

Kit looked to Fate, who nodded.

“...how interesting,” Kit grinned, licking her lips. “You’re almost just as interesting as your sister.”

“So, how old are you?”

Prota gasped as Kit suddenly lunged forwards, an incredibly hot fireball in her hand. It stopped just mere inches before John’s face, but John didn’t flinch.

“Really, you never cease to amaze me.”

“Are you gonna answer my question?”

“Why do you care so much?” Kit said with a laugh.

“Just curious.”

Fate nodded.

“...then how old are you?” Kit tried in return.

John shrugged.

“Dunno.”

Fate nodded again.

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you guess?”

“...no?”

Fate shook his head.

“It’s not very nice to lie.”

“I’m not guessing because you’re gonna assume I’m lying.”

“Try me,” Fate said.

“Then… like, ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Something like that, probably. Honestly, I don’t remember, so it’s a bit hard to tell.”

There was a moment of silence.

“...hey,” Fate called out. “I thought you were human.”

Kit whirled around to look at Fate, her eyes shooting a questioning look. This man was telling the truth?

“I am, though?”

“You’re definitely not a normal human.”

“Neither are you,” John pointed out.

“That’s not what I meant,” Fate said. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m John. We went over this already. I can’t give you an answer better than that.”

“...”

Fate looked away. “Fine. We will have another talk, though. I don’t know how you know so much about me, but… well, whatever.”

John turned back to Kit. “Anyways, how old are you?”

“Why do you care so much? Can you drop the question?”

“Oh? Yeah, sure.”

Kit just stared at John. “...really?”

“It’s not like you ever asked me to stop. If you want me to stop, then yeah, sure.”

The fox paused, then burst out laughing.

“I see! Fate, please tell me you’re going to stick around this guy.”

“But I thought you didn’t like him?”

“Didn’t like him? He’s hilarious!” Kit giggled. “I’ve never had someone stand so calmly in front of me before!”

“...you’re weird.”

“You. The reincarnator. You’re the one saying that?”

John sighed. “Anyways, let’s go back to the start. You said you were going to teach Prota. But, are you a good teacher?”

Kit smiled, revealing a row of canine like teeth. “You see that boy over there?”

Fate flinched as he was brought into the conversation.

“I taught him a lot of what he knows about fighting, and quite possibly everything he knows about magic.”

“...so?”

“If you think you’re so qualified to find a good teacher, then beat him.”

“You’re asking a coreless person to fight against someone like that?”

“You can surrender now if you want.”

“Hey, what about my opi-” Fate started, but Kit covered his mouth - or at least where his mouth should’ve been - silencing him.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

“So? How about it?”

John was about to say no. Fate was the [Protagonist], after all. What was the point in fighting? Actually, even if Fate wasn’t the [Protagonist], John would probably lose anyways.

At least, that’s what he’d thought initially.

[Hey, take the fight.]

John frowned as the massage popped up in his system.

“Uh… gimme a sec to think.”

John slowly took Prota’s head off his lap and walked over to a wall, then sat down.

[What?]

[The reason you want Fate on your team is because he’s the [Protagonist], right? The [Plot] treats people with his identifier with favour. On the other hand, [Antagonists] tend to lose. This is-]

[I already know what [Character Intertia] is. Get on with it.]

Fate was rolling his shoulders, getting ready for the fight. John should’ve been doing the same, but his focus was entirely on Zero’s lesson.

[Certain characters have certain traits, depending on their position in the story, which solidifies their chances of winning or losing in a conflict. You lack said trait, because you don’t have a role in the story to begin with. An [Anomaly]. That’s you.]

[Yeah, I saw that in Prota’s [Character Profile]. You explained this already, someone who isn’t supposed to exist in the story. Gonna type some more? Or is that it?]

[Anomalies are not affected by [Story Inertia]. That is all I can tell you. In short… think of this as “reality.” Where the battle is determined by “you.” There is no predetermined winner or loser. Fate’s role as the [Protagonist] isn’t going to help him here. The only person who can determine the outcome is you.]

John wanted to ask more about Prota, but he left it alone. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his fist, then slowly let his breath out as his hands fell to his side, limp.

[This is your power. [Anomaly]. Someone with no predetermined fate.]

[That’s bullshit. I’ve been dancing in the palm of the [Author’s] hands this whole time.]

[...it’s a little complicated. This was a story before you came here, but now that you’re here, the [Plot] has changed. John, your existence itself is something that shouldn’t be here. You don’t have a predetermined role. That’s you.]

[My predetermined role is to suffer.]

[What does that have to do with whether you win or lose?]

John hesitated, but what else was there to say? He got up, stretched, and walked over reluctantly. If the fight was determined by skill, then he would still lose. Zero had hyped him up for nothing.

“Yeah, I’ll fight him. But I’ll do it-”

He was about to say “later,” but then felt a tug on the hem of his hoodie. He looked down to see Prota looking up at him with shining eyes.

“...you want me to fight? Really?”

“Mm.”

“I’m going to get my ass handed to me.”

Prota looked at John with genuine confusion in her eyes. What?

“Seriously?”

Prota nodded. Her energy was starting to come back to her as her wounds healed. She got up and walked over to the wall, providing space for John and Fate to fight.

“Goddammit…”

John got up and brushed his pants off, then looked at Fate with an exasperated look.

“You really want to do this?”

Fate shrugged. “I’m ok with it.”

John sighed. “Fine. Hey, you guys aren’t worried about that guard outside?”

Kit shook her head. “I’ve cast a simple mirage spell. It’ll look normal here.”

“Of course you did,” John grumbled, then bounced up and down a few times to loosen up. He didn’t have any excuses left. He was contemplating whether to ask to use the washroom. It would probably work, since it seemed to be an effective strategy in a [Story], but he wasn’t ready to stoop that low just yet.

“Well, ready when you are.”

Prota was sitting cross legged, watching with interest as Kit sat on her head. Somehow, the Mystic had reverted to fox form and had convinced Prota to let her head become a chair. John shook his head. He was getting distracted.

Unlike Fate, John’s posture was relaxed and full of openings. It was almost as if he wasn’t taking the fight seriously. But it was the posture he was taking, and he had no intention of changing it.

“Are you giving up now?”

“No, this is just how I fight.”

“...fine.”

Fate’s muscles tensed, and then he sprung forward, ready to deliver a powerful blow. His fist never collided with anything, though. As soon as Fate moved, John leaned a little to the right. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough. And that was all he needed. The saying “a miss is as good as a mile” was really coming into play here.

Fortunately or unfortunately, Fate wasn’t fazed in the slightest and quickly regained his composure, sweeping low, forcing John to jump up and dodge. However, once again, there was no tension or rush in his movements. They were all calm, almost lazy, as if he couldn’t be bothered to put in more than the bare minimum.

“You’re pretty good,” Fate commented.

“...is that really something you should be telling me?”

It was time for the counterattack. Fate rushed in again, and instead of dodging, John blocked with the intention of taking the hit in order to return a stronger one. He immediately regretted it. The difference in strength was just too much. Blocking did nothing when Fate’s attack just blew right through John’s defense.

“Kh-!” John gasped as he was pushed back. His arms stung.

“You’re strong for a little kid. Are you sure you’re not using magic or something?”

“No. Maybe you’re just too old,” Fate taunted.

“Yeah, call me an old fart while you’re at it. With age, though, comes…”

His legs tensed up, and for the first time, he rushed in.

“Experience.”

John had barely trained in his life. There was no special technique of his, no custom fighting style, nothing like that. He could’ve trained. He had the time. He was just too lazy to do so, and so he’d never really developed a proper style. Anyone who knew anything about fighting would’ve called his movements sloppy and left, but there was one thing John had more of than almost everyone else.

Experience.

Thousands, even millions, of resets were all a result of battle. John had fought millions of battles, and those were his training sessions, his teachers. Even without practicing, it had to amount to something, right? So while John hadn’t trained, he wasn’t exactly clueless either.

That didn’t mean that he was going to win, though.

John had experience, and while that allowed him to dodge about two thirds of the blows, he was still getting hit. Fate was faster, stronger, and had better technique. It wasn’t perfect, though. John’s style was throwing Fate off a little since there were no clear strengths or weaknesses. After all, it was the result of copying hundreds of other warriors.

But Fate was still stronger.

“Damn!” John grunted as he was pushed back again.

But still…

He looked back at Prota, who was watching with shining eyes. Her fists were clenched as she watched, her eyes not missing a single move. For some reason he still couldn’t understand, she was fascinated with becoming stronger, obsessed with winning and perfection…

“Win,” she whispered, clenching her fists. The fox sitting on her head chuckled softly.

John barely missed it. He didn’t hear it; he saw her lips move, but he read the singular word that escaped them. Win? For what?

Yet, the feeling of someone cheering him on. It felt distant but vaguely familiar. What if he wasn’t fighting for himself but for someone else?

It didn’t matter why she wanted him to win.

“Hmph,” John snorted. “Well, one more try.”

The two faced off one more time. Both knew. This scuffle would be their last.

John gave a shout, rushing in. He threw a straight punch which was easily dodged, but that was never his goal in the first place. Fate responded with a clean roundhouse kick, which John barely managed to block. He winced in pain as the blow carried through his arm to his core, but he had to push through.

His left arm, which was currently being unused, grabbed Fate’s face as John used the momentum of his blow to keep moving forwards, with the intention of slamming Fate’s head into the ground.

“I did it!”

Unfortunately, John didn’t do jackshit.

Fate twisted out of John’s grip and used the moment John had planned to use against him, pushing him forward and causing him to slam into the ground.

~~~

Prota watched in shock as she watched John get slammed into the ground.

John… lost? She thought back. John was strong, wasn’t he? With the goblins, and the bandits, and the…

Oh. Now that she thought about it, he hadn’t done that much necessarily. Sure, he’d been needed, but… she’d been the one to do all the work? There was that one time he’d fought the demon king, but that was an outlier since his abilities…

To her confusion, she heard Kit chuckle from above. She didn’t get why, but her brain was still spinning. John wasn’t weak. That much was certain. But the image of how he’d dealt with things was being reshaped now.

The shift in mentality that had started in the cave had really helped her.

Prota was even more confident now. That she could protect John. It wasn’t exactly great that he was weak, but she was confident that she wouldn’t lose him. She just needed to train even harder.

Prota ran over to John as the two of them were talking.

“How did John lose?” she said.

“...huh?”

“John was so weak,” Prota said. “Usually, John does something and then the bad guys lose. So why did John…”

Fate looked at John, barely containing his laughter. “Your sister really just-”

“Yeah, yeah, shut it.”

“Wait, hold on,” Kit said, still on Prota’s head.

John was surprised. Prota still had a fear of physical contact, but it seemed that the fox form was alright with her.

“Does that mean you weren’t going all out?”

“...” John looked at Prota.

“What did I say about talking about my power?”

“...sorry.”

No words were said, but somehow, the conversation between the two happened anyway.

“Power means different things in different scenarios.”

“What do you mean by that?” Fate said cautiously.

“Sure, in a head on fight, I’d lose. You’re the stronger fighter. It’s not an opinion; it’s a fact. But how about in a guerilla war? How about in a war of information? There’s a lot more to fighting than just pure strength, right? Mental tactics, preparation, methodology… winning isn’t just about being the better fighter.”

Prota poked John’s stomach. “But John still lost?”

“...damn,” John laughed. “You’re still hooked on that?”

Prota was sure of it now.

The bandits. The goblins. The assassins. Every single time she’d seen John fight, she experienced a sort of strength from him that had always made her want to become stronger. But she wasn’t weak. Maybe she wasn’t strong, but she wasn’t weak.

No, that wasn’t it. Fate was strong, and John was a different kind of strong. Unflinching, never hesitating in decisions, calm and collected… maybe it was just a side effect of the way he was, but he was definitely strong. Just in a very different way.

But he wasn’t perfect, either.

So Prota didn’t need to be perfect, either. She needed to grow in her own way. She listened as John spoke up again.

“That’s why I need Prota. I can win. Just not in terms of firepower. But she can do that. She has the capability to plough through what I can’t. Kit. Actually, I always thought you were a good teacher.”

“...sure.” She couldn’t tell if John was being sarcastic or not.

“No, I’m not kidding. I still don’t really get this whole Mystic thing, but you’re a higher kind of being, right? I couldn’t ask for a better teacher.”

“Then what was up with the test?”

John shrugged. “I just wanted to see something.”

“Like what?”

“Secret :D”

“...how did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You- you made this weird sound, like a smile, I swear you-”

Prota closed her eyes as the two bickered. She was sitting next to a Mythic, and yet she wasn’t afraid. Ever since she was a child, she’d been told about Mythics, and yet now that she was in front of one, the being in question felt more like an older sister than some mysterious, godlike being.

She wanted to learn, badly.

“Well, let’s just ask Prota, then. I mean, I never got her opinion on this.”

“You were gonna get her taught not knowing whether or not she wanted to learn?!” Fate exclaimed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Let just ask her, buddy,” John grumbled.

They all turned to Prota.

“So? How about it, Prota?”

Prota’s eyes shot open, and she stared unflinchingly into John’s eyes.

“Please, teach me.”