Iron Extremity (1)
Is one living, or being lived?
- Can humans truly change the future?
Shirone opened his eyes.
What lingered in the torn fragments of consciousness might have been nothing more than the voice he had so desperately wanted to hear.
"Am I alive?"
Sensation returned slowly.
He thought he was somewhere loud and chaotic, but even that noise felt distant.
"Shirone."
The door opened and Nade came in.
"Nade——?"
Shirone, mouth parting, realized his voice was hoarse and frowned.
How loudly had he been shouting?
"You woke up. You were unconscious for three days. Here, drink some water. Miro said there was nothing she could do but watch over you, but she's been swamped too. Sorry."
Nade kept talking.
A sip of the water he offered took some of the dryness out of Shirone's throat.
"Nade."
Shirone croaked.
"What about Amy?" There was no answer. When Shirone realized this wasn't a dream, he closed his eyes again.
"Shirone."
"No."
He couldn't even say what he was denying.
He only spoke because if he didn't, the anger that had calmed for a moment felt like it would explode again.
"Where is this?"
Shirone changed the subject.
"The Airon Kingdom."
"Airon?"
Unexpected.
"You know—Anke Ra set up altars to open the spirit gate. She ordered the Council of Ten. There are over two hundred of those sites."
"...And?"
"Underneath them are shelters prepared for contingencies. Well, 'contingencies' is putting it mildly. In any case, this place is safe. Don't be tense. Rest."
Relief that there was no immediate fighting washed over him, but questions remained.
"Who made this? Who would build something like this?"
"Th—"
Fermi walked in through the open door.
"Feeling a bit more lucid?"
Shirone, lying there and meeting his gaze, couldn't hold back and asked first.
"Amy..."
"I knew."
Shirone drew a breath and spoke again.
"Did I forget—?"
"I erased it."
Fermi cut him off.
"Of course, with your consent. You already guessed the shock you'd suffer, and the state you'd be in now."
That made sense.
"Why?"
But one thing was indisputable: he would never sacrifice Amy in any situation.
"Why did I agree? What could you have said to make me accept a deal?"
Fermi hesitated, then asked,
"Can you move?"
Shirone nodded, but Nade held him back.
"You're still weak in body and mind. If you get worked up now, it could make things worse."
"There's no time. You know that."
Nade exchanged a look with Fermi, sighed, and then supported Shirone.
"All right. I'll take you."
Shirone couldn't follow all of their conversation, but he didn't press it. He was exhausted.
Supported, he left the room. Liz was waiting with Nade.
"Ah——?"
When she met Shirone's eyes she gave an awkward bow; he nodded and passed.
People tended to treat him as hard to approach, and most who passed him behaved the same.
They went down a corridor into a plaza where stretchers were lined up and medics moved among them.
Amid the chaos, Shirone spotted Rian sitting at the edge of a stretcher.
Nade guided him over. Rian, who'd been talking with Tess, managed a bitter little smile.
"Hey."
Shirone's gaze dropped to Rian's right arm.
"Oh, this?"
It wasn't pretty, but a crude mechanical steel frame had been fitted there.
"It's serviceable. I don't know how it was done, but Ellice took care of it. They said they're friends with Professor Kwan."
That didn't answer his question.
Why had Rian's arm ended up like that? Why couldn't it be healed?
Tess spoke, knowing what he'd want to ask.
"Rian brought you here. If it hadn't been this bad, he probably couldn't have managed it."
She couldn't entirely hide the resentment in her voice.
"Rian's just glad he could save you. So… it's okay."
Tess forced a bright smile.
"Ah."
Shirone wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind.
"Go. There'll be a lot you'll want to hear."
Her kindness felt sincere, but somehow he felt like a stranger.
They left the plaza and another long corridor stretched ahead, rooms set into every wall.
"Damn it! How long are we supposed to stay in this filthy place? You expect me to eat food without an appetizer? Am I a dog? I am the Minister of the Interior!"
Shirone stopped and glanced back.
Of course, in an emergency you don't pick and choose who to rescue, but aides would think differently.
"I'm sorry! We've requested assistance from headquarters right now—"
"I am the headquarters! Who here outranks me?"
Shirone watched coldly as the scene played out, and a shrill voice rang from the end of the hall.
"What's all this racket?"
It was headquarters.
"Mito Shirano."
Mito Shirano, head of the International Tribunal of the Temple, strode in with Bebeto Socrates.
Shirano paused when she saw Shirone, then dismissed it and went into a room.
"Quiet down. Don't you know there are wounded here?"
"You! How dare you treat me like this! Don't you know who I am? At least give me a larger room!"
Shirano gave a hollow laugh.
"Madman."
"What? What?"
"You're under a big misunderstanding: you're no longer a minister. Your nation is gone. Forever." "And you're not a noble, either. Ninety-nine percent of humanity is dead. The people left here are the whole world now. You have no policies to make, no papers to sign."
"Ninety-nine percent."
Shirone felt dizzy.
"What have I… done?" The result was too catastrophic to be just the price of him losing his reason and charging the deity.
The Minister of the Interior began to cry.
"S-still… it's so cold. Couldn't I have one more blanket?"
Shirano sighed and turned away.
"Give him one more blanket."
"Yes!"
Her aide saluted and Shirano headed for the plaza. Socrates asked,
"Should we allow exceptions?"
"What do I care? The world's ended—someone whining about the cold doesn't deserve special treatment. Better to soothe them than let them cry all night; it's kinder to others."
"Hmm. So we need someone who can fight?"
"Yahweh has awakened, so we need to move too. The world's leadership will be decided tonight. Rom, Garto, Temika. The rules remain."
"It sounds easy but it won't be. With only two people, one will try to dominate the other. Even if the world's ended, politicians won't give up vested interests. It's instinct."
"That's fine."
Shirano didn't care.
"Strength is power now."
In the plaza, the strongmen she'd mentioned—the heads of the mages' associations from each country—were meeting.
"Everyone."
They all stood when Shirano arrived.
"Thank you for coming in such difficult times. There's no time. To seize this last chance we must unite every remaining force. For that we need a representative."
Rupist stepped forward.
"We were just discussing that. We've already settled on Thormia."
Thormia had the kind of centripetal force they wanted—a place with the power to fight.
"Good. The vote will be tonight. Everyone, return and persuade your nations' delegates."
Plu spoke up.
"May I ask—will that really be okay? If someone refuses, things could get more complicated."
Shirano's answer was simple.
"Then kill them. Bring a new king to Thormia."
Plu shrugged, convinced.
Given precedent, arguing felt pointless.
Albino added,
"The result doesn't matter. What matters is that we held a vote. It gives the illusion that we're still civilized."
A blunt remark.
"Albino, glad you're safe."
"Ha! Lucky to be alive. I'm at the age where stubbing my toe could kill me; never thought the world would end before me."
"No—I mean it. We're short on troops. We'll need your strategy."
"What can I say… I have a son." Iruki, now leader of the Valkyries, was surveying each nation's troop situation. Socrates then gestured across the plaza.
"Hey, look over there."
Shirano grimaced.
"Ugh."
Michea Gaold walked in, hair loose like a ronin's, lost in thought.
One of the association heads muttered,
"...Michea Gaold."
He'd shown up several times during their chairmanship days but had always been treated like a madman.
Nothing had changed now, but his accomplishments couldn't be denied.
"Move aside. This is my spot."
Where the intimidated heads made way, Shirano planted herself.
"Ugh, that lunatic."
They'd clashed relentlessly in the past.
"But he's effective."
Given the state of the world, they'd better bury the past and keep him close.
Gaold stopped before Shirano.
An awkward silence stretched, and finally Gaold spoke.
"What?"
"What—?"
"What?"
"What?"
Any hope of friendly relations vanished.
Annoyed, Shirano stepped aside and Gaold strode past toward a wall.
Rupist asked,
"What will you do?"
No answer came.
"Decide for sure. Whether we should include you in our forces or not."
"Exclude me."
He said it shortly, then suddenly turned.
"Just one thing."
Madness flashed in eyes that seemed to have reached the end of philosophy.
"When I fight, never be at my side."
Those who understood the meaning swallowed hard. Gaold sank into a corner.
Plu, who had once followed him, looked sorrowful.
"I still respect him, but… he seems beyond help now."
Meanwhile, Shirone, leaning on Nade, entered a large room.
From how neatly it was arranged with limited resources, he could tell this room's importance.
"Shirone."
Seriel stood. Jin Seongeum, who lay on a bed, lifted his eyelids.
"...You returned."
He looked far thinner than when he'd come back from hell, and Shirone was shocked.
Fermi explained.
"There are about two hundred altars set up in Airon. King Basak—well, more precisely Shura—built 147 shelters beneath them. We evacuated the last of humanity there, using ether waves."
Imagining the scale of that operation was staggering.
"You can't go back to the surface. Everything burned; the buildings are dust. We had to gather the leaders scattered across those shelters. Jin Seongeum worked hard to coordinate that. Simple matters can be relayed by communication magic, but—"
"Wait."
Shirone asked.
"We're going to fight again?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Seriel and Jin Seongeum exchanged pitying looks.
"We're not the ones fighting."
"Then who?"
"You."
Shirone.
"This is a fight only for you."
For Yahweh, who had given everything for the world, this was the only thing Fermi could do.