Scarlet
Who knows how long passes as Shirou regales me of her tale. Of her life’s story. Mostly because I have nothing else to do while I’m recovering from the battle.
And what a doozy it is.
As it turns out, Shirou is over a hundred thousand years old.
Very old.
“Rude,” she comments, interrupting my inner monologue.
Which is rude.
She scoffs at that, temporarily taking the place of Tar in my internal comedy routine that is not a comedy routine.
Anyways, she didn’t say the entire story. Instead only going over bits of it. Mostly because of the whole ‘hundred thousand years old thing’ making the story too long. And I’m not one to pry. But what she did say is interesting.
Shirou is from another world that isn’t Earth. And back then, having magic and growing stronger was much more commonplace. Her world had a much more medieval structure than ours as well. With those holding power ruling over everyone else with an iron fist.
There were dozens of nations across the world, each of which were ruled by tyrants. Albeit with some of those tyrants being nice tyrants. Tyrants who, while their rule is still absolute, aren’t cruel to their people and are actually nice and care for them.
The people across the world weren’t exactly as happy as the people on Earth. Nor were they constantly at war with each other either.
They just lived their lives hoping to be initialized into their own world’s version of our System. Which, while also very videogame-like, is quite different from ours as well.
I glance at her with a frown, still kinda wishing she would tell me how it was different. But she just casually looks away as if admiring a random part of the pitch black void around us.
After that glance, I return to staring up at the endless darkness above me.
Unlike on Earth or Tartarus, their System was set to initialize for people either at random or who had a strong affinity for their magic. So it was a lot better for people in that way.
And her journey began the instant she was initialized into the System.
When she awakened to a particular magic that is different from the magic she has now. What with her magic apparently evolving to take on a prophetic form instead over the years.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Her original magic was origin magic.
She could make things. New things that don’t exist in reality.
But her main specialty in that area was to make perfect clones of herself that she could send out anywhere. Clones that didn’t cost her anything beyond the mana it took to make them when they died.
It was an incredible power. Yet, at the same time, a weak one.
Because it didn’t automatically make her stronger or anything. She was just a young, eighteen-year-old princess – yes, princess – who could make perfect copies of herself and nothing more at the time.
Then some politics happened, she ran away from home and started working for herself.
Some other stuff happened, wars broke out, and she started to become more active in them as she raised her level. All while her parents, the rulers of one of those tyrant nations, kept searching for her to return her home.
Overall, a lot of drama for one teenage girl.
Then again…
I glance at said no-longer teenage girl with a single raised brow.
Guess she isn’t exactly normal herself.
“How rude,” she says, repeating the same thing she’s said quite the number of times so far. Only to puff out her cheeks a little and look away at my current line of thoughts.
Cute.
Also odd, considering she’s blind.
Even if she can sense and get a clear picture of her surroundings using magic.
Anyways, lots of things happened and she evolved multiple times, eventually sacrificing her sight and the few combat powers she did have. Although she still has her original magic that lets her make clones of herself.
But those clones are only as strong as she is. Even if she is still technically strong enough to kill a Class V with a flick of her finger.
That’s just normal for a Class VI after all.
Although, to be completely honest, I forgot half of what you told me.
She just turns towards me and narrows her blind eyes, making me glance away with a look of pure and utter innocence on my face.
Not like you can blame me. After all, how am I supposed to remember all of that?
On another note, do you know how long it’ll take for me to recover?
She stops squinting as she answers, “Well, it’s been about fifteen years so far, and your body isn’t fully restored yet. If I had to guess… probably another five years or so.”
I stare at her for a few seconds before muttering out loud rather dully, “I have to sit here in this void… for five years?”
The girl nods her head and says, “Yeah, so it shouldn’t be too long.”
I stare at her again.
Right. She’s over a hundred thousand years old.
Five years probably isn’t much to her.
“Could we stop talking about my age, please?” she says, somehow sounding both embarrassed and not at the same time.
Come to think of it, why is it that your face barely changes regardless of how you sound? It’s kind of bizarre to look at.
The only thing that seems to change is the occasional puffing of her cheeks, the raising of a brow, or the furrowing of a brow or squinting. Nothing else.
She furrows her brows a little bit before shrugging and saying, “Thing’s happened.”
Huh.
Guess I’ll just leave it at that.
And I’m guessing you won’t be spending the entire five years here with me, so this will be-
“Why wouldn’t I spend the entire time here?” she asks while tilting her head, cutting my thoughts off.
Oh. Right.
Five years isn’t much to you.
“I also have nothing else to do,” she adds, reminding me that she hasn’t exactly been able to talk to anyone until me for a while.
Right. Well, guess we can go back to sharing stories for now.
We have plenty of time after all.
Although I feel bad for missing their wedding.