Dreams and Reality (2)

I died to get here. It would make sense that I’d die to get back.

By “get back”, what I really meant to say was “wake up from my dream”. It was becoming increasingly clear that I was in a coma of some sort—logically, I’d like to believe that I was actually hit by a truck right before my supposed exchange with the person claiming to be Saint Alicia, and that is what triggered my brain to start filling the gaps.

There was no such thing as the concept of a life after death, let alone being transported into a new world based on a fantasy of your favourite video game. I understood this. It was part of the reason I wanted to become a doctor, of course—to save lives and prevent the need for people to succumb to delusions of “what comes next”. It’s only at the very last moment of someone’s life, where even doctors and modern medicine had thrown in the towel, that you called in the chaplain or the priest or whomever it was they put their faith in to hopefully offer some hope and make their exit from the living world less of a struggle.

But that is not what I needed right now.

Aunt Sumire’s condition was the wake-up call for me to start doing something with my life. At the very least, to stop lying to her. My struggle was over. All I wanted was to head to the convenience store to freshen up and steel my resolve before heading back and telling her, I was being selfish. My own suffering blinded me from the fact that you’d lost your sister on that flight too. I didn’t need whatever this charade my brain was putting on. I’d read stories of people who lived entire lives in comas, fantasizing about a wife and children they never actually had, then abruptly waking up once they realised that the lamp in the corner that should have been a particular shape was actually a square, or that they couldn’t check their phone, or that their internet stopped working…

I didn’t want to be like that. I’d already been coping too long, living in a fantasy of my own. A second one wasn’t necessary.

I don’t deserve to be playing games like this.

It’s time to wake up.

“NO!” Annabelle screamed, throwing her arms around me.

…Huh?

“No. You can’t… you can’t die.”

“What? No, I’m not suici—”

“You can’t die!” she screamed.

I wanted to say I was touched, but I wasn’t. Even the weight of her hug felt like nothing to my body. The armour I was wearing was too thick, and the situation too contrived, and the only feeling coursing through my veins was numbness. I couldn’t engage with it emotionally, no matter how loud or how genuine the outburst of this girl was.

You wouldn’t understand. Just let me go.

“Yui—I mean, Anna—I’m okay. I’m not depressed. I’m just saying that, in this sequence of events, the natural progression of things should be that you return me to where I came from.”

“You say that, but it’s an excuse…”

“What excuse? Going back to my loved ones?”

“It’s an excuse!” she snapped.

“…”

“You don’t have to die… You don’t know if dying will bring you back to where you came from. There isn’t a way to tell! If you really had loved ones you couldn’t let down no matter what, you wouldn’t risk the chance of losing them forever!”

“But there isn’t a way to find out besides trying,” I said. “If I wait for answers, it could take me months or even years to go back. By that time, it might be too late to finish the things that I need to do. Or I could just risk it now. Besides, if you kill me, maybe Rowan and I will swap places again.”

“No! Don’t use duty as an excuse for your selfishness!”

Whether it was due to pure luck or my incompetence, Annabelle of Friesland very quickly called my bluff.

“I know that you probably have loved ones that you have left behind… and you’re scared… but this isn’t the way to do things. Please, let me help you.”

Oh. So it was just pure luck.

Honestly, maybe I was happy when I actually got hit by that truck. Have you ever considered that?

“…You’re right. I was overreacting. Sorry.”

Sensing that I’d calmed down, Annabelle let go of me. Although I realised at some point that I could have easily overpowered her given her small frame, there was an indifference in me that made my body lethargic and unresponsive. It was like there was a tourniquet tied around my artery of desire that left me resigned to wherever the current of the situation would take me. But the moment that blood rushed back to me, instantly, I—

“STOP!”

A green circle enveloped Annabelle’s hands where she was gripping her staff, and in a flash, vines emerged from the ground at a miraculous pace. They ensnared both my hands and neck at superhuman speeds, covering the last few vestiges of this worthless body that weren’t protected by armour. Rowan’s shortsword, the item that he’s canonically killed with, clatters dully against the spring grass.

Even in my own dreams, I was powerless.

“Tch.”

“Stop it… stop,” she heaved.

Ensnaring Roots. A Life card.

Figures that this shitty druid would be the most upstanding, grandstanding piece of shit imposing their warped sense of morality on everyone. I hate her.

You know nothing. You have seen nothing. If you saw the things I saw, lived through the things I’d lived through, you would understand why I didn’t want to be here. Now quickly—break up with me, let me go, and go live your life without feeling like you’re responsible for my failures.

“Okay, okay. You got me. You’re very powerful, Anna. You can let me go, and I won’t bother you again. Just let me—”

“Stop it…”

Tears beading in her blue eyes.

Her rose-touched hair is frazzled, and she regards you with a deep pity.

Armed with staff and holy book, her gold-trimmed robes flutter with every seized breath.

“I don’t know what you are going through, and I know you must be desperate to get back, but let me help you. Okay? Please.”

“Respectfully, you can’t help me.”

“…Why?” she says, her voice weak.

“We’re complete strangers. I don’t trust you.”

“We don’t have to be. I can help you. I know what it’s like to be powerless and to lose everything dear to you… maybe, if you just give it time, you’ll learn to trust me, and then—”

“No, that will never happen. You aren’t real.”

The snares on my wrist tightened, and I could feel the metal of Rowan’s gauntlets deforming, pressing painfully into my skin. A slight wetness crawled down my arm—most likely blood, but the injury was inconsequential and unlikely to make me die or even pass out. Even when I got her blood boiling, she still wasn’t letting me die.

Then suddenly—like a switch—she was a different person.

“My master, Edgar, told me that salvation must sometimes be delivered with force. I see what he means now.”

Opening her holy book with one hand while maintaining the roots with her staff, Annabelle of Friesland magically flipped to a page within.

That must be her Codex.

“If you would go as far to try and use deceit to further your means… then I will save you by force.”

Saving someone by force, huh? How ironic.

Apparently finding something suitable to torture me with, she manipulated a singular rectangle of pure green energy—no bigger than a playing card—and levitated it in front of my face.

“I’m not sure if you can read Calicean, so I will narrate everything out for you. This is Razor Hound, a companion that I’ve inscribed. Unfortunately, I lack the ability to maintain his form as I lack the Quanta to do so, therefore, I carry him in reserve in my Codex.”

…Razor Hound. A Life summon that costs three quanta. Ensnaring Roots, on the other hand, is a two quanta card. So her limit must be two. And she’s carrying this in “reserve”, which probably means she’s not main-decking it.

Fuck. It really is just a card game after all.

“I get the feeling that you understand some of what I’m saying, so follow along. I have one charged pendulum that I could drain to summon Razor Hound, get him to follow you around, and apprehend you if you try something dangerous again. There’s no chance that you’ll be able to defeat him since I don’t sense any quanta from you.”

“Are you seriously threatening me? At that point, just kill me.”

“No. I refuse to let you die,” she said matter-of-factly. “But you also don’t seem dishonourable. And you seem to understand the value of a pendulum to a mage. And given that my mentor Rowan is now missing, I’ll need all the resources I have to make it back to my sect alive, let alone uninjured.”

“So, just let me go, or kill me and be on your way? I don’t understand. Is this a religious thing? If it is, I can explain to you why religion—”

“I know you take me for a fool, Primot. But you’re also the mystery figure that replaced Rowan. So as it stands, I need to bring you back alive. You can’t die—for all three sakes of my beliefs, my circumstances, and your value as a living being. Unless, on top of dealing with the guilt of killing you, you want me to be persecuted for disappearing my Vigil as well?”

“...”

“Let’s make a deal. Behave yourself and follow me back, at least until I get some answers and rank up to Initiate like I was supposed to. Then, whatever they decide to do with you at the sect—whether that’s throw you in jail or execute you or keep you around—at that point, it’s fair to say that you don’t owe me anything. And if you still want to die then, I’ll let you. But until then, keep an open mind, and let me convince you that this life is worth living. And if you change your mind at any point…

“I promise I will help you,” she declared. “On my honour as a Templar.”

This was an awfully aggressive suicide negotiation. Was this really the same Annabelle from before—the same one who was undoubtedly based on the 3rd quintuplet?

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”

I didn’t have much room to bargain, so all I could do was agree to her terms.

“No,” she said, suddenly quivering. “You have to promise me.”

“...”

Suddenly, the image of Aunt Sumire crossed my mind. If it were true that I was already in a coma, and people lived for decades in a dream only to wake up a few months later, then the concept of time dilation in this realm as Saint Alicia presented to me before I’d teleported here might be a real thing. In any case, it was clear as day that this girl was not going to let me die no matter how genuine my reasons were, so I wasn’t going to get anywhere by stalling out.

Not that my reasons for dying in the first place were genuine.

“...Okay, Annabelle. I promise.”

“You have to mean it. Don’t ever use the excuse of going back as a reason to try dying again.”

“...Okay, I won’t.”

I probably would.

The roots holding up my arms and neck slithered back into the earth, and so did my body, crumpling weakly against the floor. And surprisingly, so did Annabelle.

She sank onto her knees and hugged her staff, tears beading up again. “Please… please, let’s not ever fight again, Primot.”