[Book 1 end] Ch.56— Promise |
When Amy woke up, she could barely see anything. Except for the faint moonlight streaming through the windows, the infirmary room was completely dark.
She stared at the ceiling for a moment, then closed her eyes again, waiting for sleep to return. It didn't.
She turned onto her side. As she did, the bandages pulled slightly at her ribs. She ignored the discomfort and stared at the wall instead. The wall was not particularly interesting, but it was something to look at that wasn't the ceiling, so she gave it her full attention for approximately two minutes before giving up on that as well.
She turned onto her back again, this time facing the window, where her satchel sat on the bedside table. Amy extended her arm sideways off the bed until her fingers brushed against it. She didn't pick it up, choosing instead to just rest her hand against the leather.
She closed her eyes once more, staying like that for a couple of minutes before finally exhaling through her nose, sitting up, and pulling the satchel onto the bed beside her.
She stared fixedly at it. Inside was Libris—or rather, the copy provided by the librarian—as well as the seal required to enter the lost city of Avalon.
Amy's fingers hovered over the clasp. She thought about Azazel's smile and the specific phrasing she had used: “Highly recommend opening it only when you are completely alone.”
Which probably meant that whatever was inside would be either truly useful or truly unpleasant, but still highly necessary, just like Crow's gift had been.
Amy stared at it for a few more seconds before letting her hand drop. She wasn't in the mood for anything that resembled work, effort, or processing new information just to figure out what to do with it. She had killed one of this manga’s final bosses approximately—well, she didn't actually know how many hours ago—and she had done it while bleeding from multiple orifices and running on the absolute dregs of her mana. She believed that earned her, at the very least, one night of not having to think about anything with strategic implications.
She opened her eyes and turned her head toward the window. Unlike the window in her nightmare, the view outside held no chaos creatures, black rain, or colossal obsidian women staring down from above.
Probably…
Amy sat up; she needed air.
She looked at the door, remembering how the nurse had rushed in the last time she tried to leave the bed, right as a faint magic flared up. It was obvious a monitoring spell had been cast on her bed.
She looked at the satchel, then, with another tired sigh, activated her ability.
The familiar pressure settled behind her eyes—duller than usual since her mana wasn't fully restored—but functional. Threads of possibility spread out from the present moment, and she pulled at the one she wanted: leave without being detected.
She committed the golden path to memory, let her ability fade, and began doing exactly what it had shown her.
It involved moving slowly at first, then unlocking the window and silently lifting it at a precise angle. A simple, easy solution for a simple, weak spell, she supposed.
She pulled on her shoes and the coat that had been resting on a nearby chair, grabbed her satchel, and slipped out the first-floor window.
Just like that, she was outside.
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Amy walked aimlessly.
The academy was completely deserted, much like the nightmare had been. The air was cold, but not so bad that she couldn't ignore it. She shoved her hands into her pockets and let her feet carry her wherever they pleased.
She walked along the outer wall of the infirmary building, turned where the path bent, and kept going. It felt strange to think that despite everything she had gone through, the world had stayed exactly as she left it.
If I had died in there, would anything have changed…?
She kept walking for what felt like half an hour until, unable to ignore her aching body any longer, she stopped.
Spotting a lonely stone bench near the edge of the path, she slumped onto it. She leaned her head back and stared at nothing for a minute, letting the cool night air wash over her face while her mind drifted into the void. Or at least, that had been the plan, until a small prickle at the edge of her consciousness kept annoying her enough to deny her rest.
Wasn’t it funny that of all the places she could have gone, she ended up here?
Amy's gaze refocused, and she looked toward the central square in the distance. There, standing out against the stark, dark marble, was a makeshift monument—Elias's shrine.
Amy looked at it for a few seconds, watching the light of the candles left behind by the students, still burning despite weeks having passed since that day.
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So she wasn’t the only one who remembered, huh? The manga had completely skimmed through his death as if he had been worthless… but at least the world remembered.
Would she get one of those the day she died?
Amy stared at it in silence with a tired expression, which gradually transformed into one of confusion, and then, exasperation.
Of course, of all times, he had to be there.
A person was standing right beside it whom she hadn’t noticed initially due to the poor lighting—a man with black hair and black eyes.
Crow, covered in bandages just like her, stood completely still, staring down at the makeshift monument.
What were the chances…?
Amy frowned as she looked at him and swiftly decided on a quick exit; tension was high between them after everything that had happened, and the last thing she wanted was an encounter alone in the middle of the night while she wasn't at her best— not that she thought Crow would attack her, but still…
Amy was about to stand up and leave when, to her misfortune—though not unexpectedly, considering her luck—Crow noticed her.
His dark eyes locked onto her across the square. Their eyes met. Neither of them moved or spoke. For an agonizingly long moment, the silence of the Academy grounds felt twice as heavy, and Amy braced herself for another inevitable and deeply uncomfortable confrontation.
Instead, Crow just kept his eyes on her for a moment longer before turning, walking away, and vanishing into the shadows.
Amy exhaled a long and heavy breath that she didn't realize she'd been holding.
She should turn around, go back to her warm infirmary bed, and pretend none of this had happened; this was clearly a warning from destiny.
Yet, as if moving of their own volition, her legs stood up. Before her brain could formulate a logical protest as to why she was doing what she was doing, her feet were already carrying her across the smooth stone of the central square.
In a couple of steps, she arrived at Elias's shrine.
Amy stopped a few paces away and stared at the framed drawing of Elias.
What was she even doing here? Standing out in the middle of the courtyard at midnight, clad in thin infirmary clothes, covered in bandages, with nothing to protect her from the cold but her coat, lingering by a memorial for a dead student she had never met, instead of sleeping like a normal person would after everything she had experienced. It was completely absurd, an utter waste of the rest she so desperately needed.
After some hesitation, she rubbed the back of her neck and let out a quiet, self-deprecating sigh. There was no one around to hear her anyway. The square was entirely hers.
"To be honest," she suddenly muttered, "I felt really guilty before. Because I couldn't save you." She paused, looking into the frozen eyes of the drawing. "But after some reflection... as bad as it sounds, I kind of have forgiven myself… I realized I really did my best," she continued, her lips twisting into a bitter smile. "I pushed myself to the absolute limit. Yet, my best just wasn't enough at that time. And if I'm being entirely realistic, it probably won't be enough in the future, either."
She took a deep breath, the night air sharp and biting in her lungs. The sheer scale of the threats looming over the Academy—and the world—was terrifying. Even right now, just thinking about it made her hands tremble. After all she had gone through, it still wasn’t enough, and that knowledge filled her with nothing but despair.
"But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop," Amy murmured, her gaze hardening as she stared at the flickering candlelight. "I'm still going to try to save as many as possible."
Amy closed her eyes and took a slow breath. Reaching deep inside her core and pushing past the boundaries of her usual strain, she forced her ability further than she ever had before. She dug deeper, actively searching for a specific golden shine: a future where the impending end of the world was averted, and a truly satisfactory number of people—the people she cared about, the people who actually deserved to live—survived.
Her mind dug deeper into her core through the infinite paths of possibilities until, at some point, she found it.
There. Deep, deep within her, a brilliant golden light appeared. It was a blazing, radiant shine of pure gold, cutting through the darkness. It was blindingly beautiful, containing everything she could ever hope to achieve.
She couldn’t help but lean closer to that path, but the moment her consciousness even brushed against the edge of it, a violent, agonizing spike of pressure slammed into her skull.
The sheer, unimaginable amount of mana, the impossible alignment of lucky coincidences, and the trillions of precise choices required to even begin subtly directing herself toward that path right now were astronomical.
Amy reeled, her breath catching in her throat as a wave of intense nausea hit her. She could feel it with certainty; even just attempting to subtly lean her current timeline toward that specific path would cause her brain to instantly explode.
She severed the connection, snapping her eyes open and gasping for air as her heart hammered violently against her ribs. She pressed the palm of her hand hard against her forehead, waiting for the blinding, phantom throbbing to subside.
Slowly, her vision cleared. She looked back at the drawing of Elias, the brilliant, unattainable light of that future still dancing behind her retinas.
"That gold..." Amy whispered, her voice shaking slightly from the residual pain. "Where everything I have ever wanted is waiting, everyone I have ever remotely liked is alive, and the person I have always wished to become is smiling... I will seek it." She stared directly at the drawing, her eyes still faintly shining. "I promise. I couldn’t save you, but I’ll make sure to save this world."
With nothing left to say, Amy caught her breath and turned away from the shrine.
Her body ached with every movement. Letting out a quiet groan, she braced herself for the climb back up to her window.
The trek back was every bit as miserable as she had anticipated. Her muscles screamed, and by the time she finally hauled herself over the sill and tumbled back onto the cold floorboards of the infirmary, she was entirely out of breath.
She shut the window, locking it at the precise angle her ability—which she had activated once again moments ago—had indicated, and after removing her coat, she collapsed onto the edge of the mattress.
The room was exactly as she had left it: dark and quiet. But as she sat there in the dark, with her heart still beating from the magical and physical exertion and gradually slowing its frantic pace, she realized the atmosphere had changed.
Amy reached out, and her hand found the leather strap of her satchel.
She didn't open it; the copy of Libris could wait until tomorrow since she had earned her night of rest. But her fingers lingered on the bag, gripping it tightly.
For the longest time, she had felt only tired and had been trying to survive rather than actively save the world. But with Abbadon's death, and after seeing the gold when she dug deep into her core, she had come to a realization.
She really could do it.
She didn't care how astronomical the odds were; the now-gone golden light still shone faintly in her mind.
Amy pulled the thin blanket back over her shoulders and lay down, staring up at the ceiling one last time before closing her eyes once again.
She had given her word to Libris, promising that she would kill Abbadon, and she had done it. Now she gave her word again, this time for Elias, and this promise, too, she would keep.
That was a promise.