The heart of justice, the wellspring of the rule of law—in this world, these are determined by the people alone. How a leader stands firm also depends on the people. When an absolute leader stands before you, you’d best weigh carefully how many citizens stand behind him, and how much trust he holds.
— Excerpt from the Cloverfield Chronicles
…
…..
After a burst of commotion, the crowd parted from the center outward, creating a “starlit avenue.” Through that path, a tall woman wearing a distinctive uniform and carrying a greatsword on her back walked gracefully toward me.
Hmm… setting aside her solemn expression, her features were quite captivating—that was my assessment of her this morning, and even now, she remained just as dependable.
I twisted my body, and just as I turned my head, I bent slightly at the waist. An arrow whistled past, grazing my cheek by a hair’s breadth.
A sneak attack wasn’t honorable, but it was certainly effective.
I shook my head vigorously, trying to force myself back to reality from my daze. But my eyes were painfully dry, and my lips tasted unbearably bitter. I was at my breaking point—physically, mentally, both were failing me!
The nausea and anguish drove me to my hands and knees, heaving dryly. The earlier clarity had vanished, replaced by endless confusion and disorientation…
What was happening to me? I felt awful! I needed to vent! But I had to stay calm! What on earth was going on? I—I! I-ugh-ugh-ugh!
I wasn’t sure what I’d even done. All I knew was a blank whiteness before my eyes, and I could only lie there, paralyzed—exhausted, delirious, as if I’d eaten hallucinogenic mushrooms.
In short, I felt like I was about to split apart right now—half my body hot, half cold. It was utterly bizarre! Why? Why?
I asked myself uselessly, but unfortunately, no one answered. I was like a patchwork of fabric, too many patches trying to fix a dying cause—cough, cough! …My body ached with weakness, my legs heavy as lead.
“[Echo] Are you okay?”
Like a bell echoing through a corridor, the voice reached my ears—which had become mere decorations—and fell into my fractured state of mind… A vague, ethereal figure approached quietly as I breathed heavily, and a dreamlike hand reached toward me…
The cure for pain was never time alone—only bitter truths, criticism, and the jumbled mess of life that offered something in return… Why was I suddenly reciting poetry? Why was I pondering philosophy so deeply…
What exactly had happened? I needed to figure this out. Was it… was it because of that potion?! Was it that “elixir” that conjured stillness out of nothing? Was that what was causing me such agony?
At that moment, that feeling of emptiness from a few days ago swept over me once again—
“[Echo] Are you all right?”
“[Echo] Here. Take my hand.”
I wanted to—my heart was full of wounds. I needed a moment to calm down. All of this was just too exhausting…
[Time Stop]
The clicking of gears faded into the distance. The mask pretending everything was fine could finally be removed, revealing its true face…
Day after day, monotonous and routine—where could I find some disinfectant? Could I borrow a taste? Right now, I just wanted to vent to someone, pour out all my frustrations until I had nothing left.
Huh? I wasn’t in pain anymore. Ha ha, what a bizarre situation. Why wasn’t there any explanation? And yet they said everything was fine, as clear as a sunny day… Where was this game’s designer? I really wanted to punch him—though I probably couldn’t get out of here anyway.
I wanted to chat freely, joke around with friends, chase and play without a care—even if I got scolded, I wouldn’t regret it… What mattered was having fun. Then, after that, go back to my mundane routine, occasionally spicing things up—wasn’t that the peaceful life I’d imagined?
Less riddles in daily life, more straightforwardness; less seriousness, more ease; less pretense, more authenticity… Why was I reciting poetry again?! What was wrong with my brain?! Why was I so cringey?! Could someone just give me a good smack and knock some sense into me?!
Ah, if only there were more people like me in this world…
I slumped down, lying flat on my back, gazing up at the dizzying stars scattered across the sky. I wanted to count them one by one, but I always stopped at the same point… That was the lowest star in the sky, yet the most special—the one that pointed toward the [Luminescent Grove] and [Cliff]—and for me, it held an especially personal meaning.
Speaking of which, it was time to write about today’s significance.
I pulled out my journal and flipped to the latest entry, adding today’s date on the next blank page… July 19th… “In the evening, I saw fireworks and was happy… but that good mood crumbled to dust in an instant.”
Mm, I shouldn’t embellish too much, like writing a novel. Here, here… It’s just a diary, after all—only for me to look back on my past absurdities, at best to amuse myself.
Things had unfolded unexpectedly; one day wasn’t enough to process everything I’d been through… Maybe finding the mastermind behind all this would make me feel better… It was 7:50 now. Those guys probably wouldn’t give up hunting me until curfew… I’ll stop here.
I put down my pen, stood up, and slowly returned to my original spot. Previously, I had been the one actively resuming time, but now, I wanted to linger a little longer in this quiet moment—
(“—What a handsome elf. How does she manage to survive in such a hostile world?”)
(“—’She’s been through a lot.'”)
(“—Eh~? How do you know that?”)
Ugh… I think I’m remembering something… ugh…
(“—’Because… hehe, I read this novel with you last night.'”)
(“—Oh~ That’s so sneaky of you.”)
(“—’Hey, don’t hit me, hehe…'”)
If I tried hard enough to recall, maybe I could—!
(“I put the book back on the shelf and turned to look at…”)
(“Her silvery-white hair was still as pure as snow, her gentle smile still as warm as sunshine…”)
(“I took her hand and said, let’s go out and play together.”)
(“She smiled too, leading me to the room door, then the small door, and finally the main gate.”)
(“—’Come on, once you step through this gate, then…'”)
I was about to continue, but the commotion yanked me back to reality. The scene before me switched like a television channel, and what came into view was Caylan’s face, full of emotion.
Concern, sympathy, acceptance—and then anger, surprise, and confusion. It wasn’t hard to understand why she looked that way, but rather, why was she being so ambiguously affectionate toward me here and now… It was very similar to a few days ago in [Malettus], when Lyle offered to help us—
Though the goals were different, the reasons were equally vague and unclear.
Looking past Caylan, I could see Xiong Xin and Mia’s anxious figures behind her. They were worried too, but I knew that was just concern for a companion.
“You… why did you go this far?”
“Me? No, no—I just followed my own… no, I had my reasons, and you have yours too.” I’d intended to say “will” next, but I realized I had no right to say that.
Besides, I couldn’t say Caylan’s name. In front of the crowd, if a “criminal” like me and a “hero” like her appeared so “close,” not only would I suffer, but Caylan would lose face and be dragged down too.
In this situation, the only thing I could do was what I had to do—not make things worse… Many people in novels would say, “Hey, I’ll just have the protagonist cry for help loudly, and everyone will see how cute she is and come running to help.” Well, sorry to disappoint—I’m neither cute nor willing to shout for help. Especially in this world, which is so hostile to me—unfair and unkind. No matter how much I begged, no one would help me, because they themselves were trapped in the “cradle” this world had given them.
—Ah, how painful, how sad. Tch, why was I being so melodramatic?
“Investigator, no matter what I do, you have no right (or way) to stop me, do you?”
Caylan heard this and looked uneasily at the people around her. Their gazes, which should have been full of hope and reliance, had instead turned strange—filled with doubt, dejection, or perhaps just the instinct to protect their own interests. They cast reproachful looks at Caylan…
I needed to think. If I could draw all the conflict toward myself, maybe—huh? What were those orbs?
Just as I was deep in thought, several jarring presences disrupted my focus. They were spherical, fluid-like masses of indescribable color, emitting unknown particles into the surroundings. They could be called magical spells, I suppose? But who had cast them… Mia wouldn’t—she knew the rules and regulations better than anyone. Was it some opportunistic member of the crowd? Perhaps. I hoped it wasn’t like the girl with the mismatched eyes I’d encountered in [Malettus].
Murmurs and discordant music drifted through the air—was that the effect, or was it meant to mask their true target?
“These orbs… what exactly are they?” Caylan asked naturally, feigning ignorance while her hand subtly moved toward the greatsword on her back.
So she knew something about this; otherwise… was she suspecting me? Don’t look at me like that. Wait, something was wrong with those orbs! They were mutating erratically… purple? Cyan? Then blue, green! Fast! Yellow, orange, red—
“Danger! Get down!! It’s—ugh!”
I shouted as fast as I could, but it was useless. The orbs burst like floating explosives, sending scorching magical energy and shockwaves blasting outward. The impact hit me, slamming me backward onto the ground.
Such a strong blast—if I hadn’t braced myself, I might have been thrown further back and crashed into the wall. Speaking of which, did anyone else get caught—
In that instant, my heart twisted reflexively. I had to force myself to hold back the sour sting in my throat, like lemon juice, just to keep from choking… I couldn’t describe what I saw—only the clamor and cries reached me… The lingering magic still hung over the square, bringing with it smoke and fire… It wasn’t that tragic, there wasn’t any gruesome outcome… But why were they looking at me with such strange eyes… Was I really that disgusting? How absurd… Boundless hatred and fury shouldn’t be splattered so carelessly…
All eyes were fixed on me at that moment. I didn’t know how to describe it anymore, so I gritted my teeth and took a step toward Caylan.
She wasn’t badly hurt—just some scorched clothing from the blast, soot marks on her face, and dusty hair. She looked at me, the greatsword now in her hand—its blade covered in magical residue. Had she drawn it in time to defend herself? Impressive—she was the investigator squad leader, after all.
That greatsword was a two-handed weapon. Could she wield it with one hand? She must have been highly specialized in that area.
Caylan’s expression didn’t relax. She gripped her sword tightly and pointed it at me.
One corner of the square was in shambles, with civilians injured and enraged. Yes, they needed a scapegoat to quell the public’s anger and prevent the situation from escalating further.
So this was a “duel,” wasn’t it? This was what a duel really meant.
Without thinking, I clenched my fist, then released it. I walked over to the Windblade Sword and picked it up again.
It was a fine blade, but it wasn’t mine—I couldn’t take it—
I activated [Honesty], [Kindness], and [Perseverance] once more, letting that strange triple radiance coalesce onto the sword that had seen only one night and a few clashes. Then I gripped it tightly and faced Caylan.
“Without a fight, this won’t be settled. Understand?”
With that, I raised the Windblade Sword toward the sky—
“May this duel, under the protection of those who watch over us and those who stand unmoved in the storm, decide the victor between us.”
I didn’t see Caylan’s move—only heard her response.
“This duel cannot be recognized. I must fulfill my duty. For disrupting public order, don’t blame me for abandoning martial courtesy, child. Caylan Ketris, Captain of the Investigators’ Vanguard—here I come!”
And then I heard the crowd rushing toward me, their indignant fury filling the air—
