Hot. No—stinging.
Only horrific scars remained on the skin the flames had passed over. Just a body that would be fixed the moment the clock turned once, but still.
The pouring rain and wind irritated my skin. This... is useless. It only hurts.
I was sprawled on the ground, half-dead. Naturally. I'd gone on a suicidal charge right up until the brink of real death.
"......"
If only I could just pass out, but my annoyingly stubborn mind kept itself intact even through the endless pain. My fire-resistant body wouldn't even allow me the mercy of death.
Unlike me, who could only breathe, the other prisoners were running around like their feet were on fire. The wave... when is this going to end?
Given how urgent the situation was, it would have been a huge help if I could move. Paradoxically, because it was so urgent, I could only lie here like a corpse.
In other words, the one coordinating those prisoners as a whole, Dante, must be busier than usual by several times over.
Still, the end of this battle was finally starting to come into view.
Six had been reduced to ashes by my self-detonation. After that, the merfolk that were wounded from minor to severe by the attacks I scattered while burning my own body numbered at least in the double digits.
It was a considerable achievement, enough to celebrate, which might be why it ended so quickly.
While I was having these trivial thoughts...
"Haaah... haaah..."
Krrrk, krrrk...
"How many... are left... now...?"
Ishmael was butchering the merfolk like a machine. She looked utterly exhausted now that the fight had dragged on this long, but...
"They're all dealt with."
"Then this must be the last one."
Crack.
With the sound of flesh bursting apart, the last merfolk's life was cut off.
...It was over.
We'd survived. We'd actually broken through the wave.
That said, I still couldn't move right away. Dante must have accumulated all sorts of curiosity during the battle, and would need time to sort through it.
"The merfolk... were they people, by any chance?"
"My explanation must not have been sufficient... Simply living beneath the surface doesn't make something a whale. 'Whales' is the term used for all things in the lake that use humans as hosts. Whales give birth to merfolk."
"...How did these things become merfolk?"
"They were eaten by whales drawn in by the wave. We could end up in the same state. You understand? It may be that the Manager's rewind won't be of any use at all."
Could that be?
Dante's ability was practically closer to restoration. Even if we became merfolk, it would mean rewinding time itself to repair us.
If a whale swallowed a prisoner whole and dragged them down into the depths of the lake, that would certainly become troublesome. In that sense, she might be right.
For now, it was information we couldn't properly verify. We'd never been eaten by a whale, and probably never would be.
But there was someone here who had kept watching those horrific things happen over and over.
Someone with a very sticky, very dark... obsession bordering on madness.
"I have... a goal I absolutely must achieve... and anything that gets in the way of it... I'll eliminate... even if I have to crash down and break apart while falling..."
"Tenacity and fighting spirit. Not a bad set of supplies to start an adventure with."
Wow, that insane woman Otis. Did she really have to pour more oil on that?
She was competent, sure, but I didn't want her anywhere near me. She was far too devious.
Then Rodion, who had been checking the bodies and their condition, noticed me.
"Oh my, Sara... you were alive?"
"......"
"Ah, right. You can't even talk in that state, can you? Dante~! How about turning the clock now?"
Rodion was nice because she was quick on the uptake. Since I was going to die no matter what, the best course was to revive me first without any extra measures.
Tick, the clock turns.
Time passes without mercy.
Tick... tock.
The calm voyage continued.
There was no blood, no rain and wind, and no danger of death.
The value of breaking through a single wave was sweeter than anything. It had shortened our time floating over this filthy, falsely peaceful Great Lake by a full three days.
That didn't mean I planned to do it again. Nor did I plan to self-destruct again. Apparently, running straight into death with my whole body wrapped in flames had involved pain beyond imagination, because Dante had urged me not to pull that stunt in any ordinary battle. Well, Dante's mental state was important, so there was no reason not to agree.
I didn't want to do that crap again either. What kind of lunatic would enjoy such insane nonsense?
Ah, Ryoshu might have liked it a little. She was one of the people here with the least comprehensible sense of art, after all.
Anyway, enough of that.
Lately, I'd been hovering around Ishmael's side. No, not just lately. I was almost always beside her.
A strange relationship, where we were both subtly aware of each other... but never actually spoke to one another.
That didn't mean there was no interaction at all.
"......"
"......"
Though all it amounted to was staring at each other awkwardly before looking away.
An indescribably awkward atmosphere hung between us. We couldn't keep not talking like this, but neither of us could bring ourselves to start a conversation, and we couldn't quite stand being completely apart either... in short, it had become a complicated tangle of a relationship.
"......"
Dante was looking at the two of us with a dumbfounded expression. Or rather, the equivalent of one, since he had no face.
It made sense he'd be stunned. The two of us had been talking just fine right before the last ambush, and now we were like this. Nothing to be done. I didn't exactly feel like talking to her either.
She was simply the best person to ask for that final confirmation back then.
I could tell Ishmael seemed to move her lips a little... but she still couldn't bring herself to speak. Her expression was complicated.
What was she thinking about?
Staaare—.
"...Hey, Sara. Come with me for a second."
"Huh? Ah, yes."
As we were killing time like that, Rodion, looking frustrated, dragged me away.
"If you're just going to keep staring at each other, why not make up already? Just looking at you two is driving me crazy!"
"Ah... um..."
"I get that you're reluctant~ but you're not such an inflexible person, are you? Hm? Try easing up a little and going to her once. Dante doesn't seem bothered at all, does he?"
"...That's true enough. I'll think about it."
"Haa... Fine, that's good enough. I wasn't expecting you to make up right away anyway."
Maybe I should just avoid her like Heathcliff does. That way the two of them glare at each other like sworn enemies, but at least there's no friction.
Come to think of it, maybe that's what I should be doing too...
And yet, had I gotten attached to her without realizing it? I couldn't just leave someone who looked like she might explode any second alone.
I really am an idiot, huh...
I said I'd think about it, but I had a feeling I'd be stuck in this awkward stance for a while. Sorry, Rodion.
Tick... tock.
Then a few more days passed... my sense of time was starting to go strange.
At this rate, I might have spent more time living on the bus than living on the lake.
Looking at the calendar one day at a time, that didn't seem like total nonsense. ...Then had I already been on the outs with Ishmael for several months?
Hopeless. Just like the area we were passing through now.
"......"
I raised my gaze and looked at the zone we were currently crossing.
Pure white fog hung over the entire lake. I couldn't see ahead properly. The ship kept moving regardless.
Highly advanced machines could find their way without needing visual cues.
Come to think of it, impressive. I don't remember the bus having this kind of function when it was still in bus form.
I could practically picture Faust saying, "Faust is a genius." Mm. Let's stop that thought. It's irritating for no reason.
It wasn't easy to find something to talk about on this boring, pointless lake... Ah. There was one more thing.
Recently, Ishmael had been accepting me a little more easily. Or rather, the awkwardness in how she treated me had faded somewhat.
To the point that... she was muttering her thoughts aloud while alone.
"The water of the lake... every time I look at the lake, I see myself wavering."
Ishmael was gazing at the still lake. More precisely... at her own reflection rippling over the water's surface.
"No matter how much the lake changes, my reflection on the water is always distorted... Maybe the twisted, wavering shape is my true form after all... Perhaps the warped image the lake has shown me all along... was the correct one."
...Ah. The conversation that followed was going to be pretty heavy.
I hesitated. Should I leave? Or stay beside her? She didn't seem to care much either way.
Before I knew it, Dante, who had been wandering the deck, was standing nearby too. So much for escaping.
"My hands... were stained with blood... Saltwater got in and stung, and it hurt so badly I felt like I'd lose my mind if I let go of it right then and there... but I couldn't let go. What was it I didn't want to let go of?"
Just as I was starting to get drawn into the story, and the next part was about to come from her mouth...
Otis's booming voice rang out from over there.
"Manager! You need to come here. We seem to be nearing the next coordinates."
"...! Y-yes!"
And then Ishmael, who had been lost in thought, seemed to snap back to reality and jumped to her feet.
"I'll go too...!"
The unfortunate part was that, in that moment, her eyes met mine dead on.
"I-I mean, I'll take a look too!"
After a brief, awkward mouthing of words, Ishmael headed toward Dante as if nothing had happened.
I followed after her at a leisurely pace.
Still, new coordinates, huh... I don't have a good feeling about this. Not that I ever really do.