Chapter 4

The summit of Lindholm Spirit Mountain, as the spirits had mentioned, was indeed a harsh environment.

Not only was the climate and temperature severe, but there were also times when the air felt oppressively heavy, making it a place that truly lived up to the name "Spirit Mountain."

Additionally, there were other factors that contributed to the harshness of nature.

Occasionally, creatures that Merea did not know would pass overhead.

These creatures often had shapes that made her think of them as "monsters" or "beasts," which scratched at her heart.

One day, while watching the monsters pass overhead, Merea suddenly noticed a familiar figure.

— I've seen something like that before...

It was unmistakable. — It was a "dragon."

Among the highest peaks in the surrounding area, Lindholm Spirit Mountain sometimes pierced through the clouds.

This happened when the clouds were low.

When this occurred, winged monsters that often flew above the clouds would become visible, and on that day, Merea had seen the form of a dragon.

Seeing the dragon, which she had only seen in fairy tales before, made her heart race.

On the other side, the dragon, facing the hundred spirits on the summit of Lindholm Spirit Mountain and the one mysterious, tangible boy among them, said with a resonant, cheerful voice while descending to the summit,

"What's this? Are those heroes over there doing something interesting again?"

◆◆◆

Flapping its large wings, the dragon brought its flying body to a stop and then landed lightly.

The dragon stood tall on the summit of Lindholm Spirit Mountain, and Merea was overwhelmed by its presence.

"Wow... it's really a dragon. A dragon."

"More precisely, it's a 'Heavenly Dragon.' There are also Earth Dragons, so remember the difference."

"Ah, y-yes."

It had been about a week since Merea had been reincarnated.

Life was surprisingly smooth.

He had been living by consuming the prepared cave, the mysterious frozen meat, and fruits, managing to survive.

It seemed that the spirits had prepared a certain amount of sustenance for his survival.

For Merea, listening to complicated talks while shivering in the cold wind of the Spirit Mountain was quite a challenge.

So, at first, he focused on getting used to the environment, living day by day while listening to the spirits' stories to a reasonable extent.

"So, why is there a flesh-and-blood child in such a dangerous place?"

The dragon tilted its head.

Then, a handsome man among the spirits—Flandre Crow, who had brought Merea—stepped forward and said to the dragon with a gentle smile,

"He's our son."

"Ah, the 'Interworld Grass.' I didn't think it would really succeed. Perhaps it was fortunate that only powerful heroes remained in this place."

"Well, they were all failed heroes in their lifetimes."

"…That's true."

To Flandre's self-deprecating smile, the dragon's voice dropped slightly.

"Still, it's quite an unusual appearance."

The dragon then turned its gaze back to Merea.

"Snow-white hair. Eyes the color of fresh blood. You look more like a ghost."

"The white hair is from 'Lailas,' and the red eyes are from me. It's a combination of various heroes' traits, which might make it a bit mysterious. But Lailas' hair is really beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. The hair of the white beauty, a hero praised as the most beautiful, is undoubtedly beautiful. —And what about Lailas?"

"…She 'left.'"

"What?"

"Lailas witnessed Merea's birth and then left. Her regret wasn't about being betrayed and killed, but about dying without giving birth to a child."

"…I see…"

The dragon's face showed a hint of sadness.

Though it was a dragon's face, Merea could tell.

"Well, it will be lonely, but it's probably a blessing for you…"

"Yes. If her regret is gone, it must be a happy thing."

While listening to Flandre and the dragon, Merea had been guessing the origins of the spirits.

Heroes, and then spirits.

Flandre had referred to himself as "a character from an old hero's tale," somewhat humbly, but from the way the dragon spoke, it didn't seem like he should be so humble.

It seemed that the spirits here were indeed once called heroes and remained as spirits in this place.

"Spirits are surprisingly fragile. Strong joy can erase their existence."

Lindholm Spirit Mountain was a unique place in this world.

A forbidden realm where the dead, who should have been gone, were allowed to play.

Simultaneously, it was a place where spirits with regrets could "accomplish" something, which is why living beings rarely visited.

—Well, Flandre and the others are normal.

Merea had spent a week with them and got to know them.

They were no different from living beings.

Well, he hadn't met any human-shaped living beings in this world yet, so he couldn't say for sure, but they weren't much different from the living beings in the place he used to live.

However, according to the spirits, there were many spirits hostile to living beings in the lower levels of the mountain.

—Due to their regrets.

"Anyway, that leaves ninety-nine of us."

"That will be up to Merea gradually."

"Will he be the savior of the spirits?"

"Who knows. I just hope he becomes a fine hero."

"That seems to be your common regret. Sacrificing yourself for the world but not being able to die as a hero. —But don't forget. The world moves. The world changes. And sometimes, without you realizing it, the future you wished for may no longer be attainable."

"Coming from a Heavenly Dragon who observes the world, that sounds convincing."

"Yes. …However, I'm also curious about how Merea will grow. I'll come back to check on him when the clouds are low again."

"Thank you. Merea won't have friends for a while."

—Declared a loner by his parents.

"There won't be many living beings who visit the Spirit Mountain."

"Right. See you later."

"Ah."

With that, the dragon flew back into the sky.

—Spirits were already mysterious, but this world seemed quite fantastical.

Merea, who had learned that creatures that once existed only in people's imaginations were real, felt his heart race with excitement and a bit of anxiety.

Fantasy is powerful.

If it turned against him, could he survive in this world?

◆◆◆

—He realized he could survive. If he fought for his life. …Wait? Isn't that the wrong way around? It feels like I'm trying to die to live!

A week after the Heavenly Dragon's visit, Merea was running around the summit of Lindholm Spirit Mountain that day.

That was because he was being chased by a "fireball" that was burning fiercely.

"Hey! Run for your life! You've gotten used to the environment, so it's special training!"

"For what…!"

"To become a hero, of course!"

—It's tyrannical.

After hearing the spirits' stories, Merea learned why they had called him.

—They wanted to make him a hero.

A hero who saves the country.

A hero who saves the world.

A hero who saves someone.

There are various types, but basically, being a hero is a glorious title.

The spirits here were once called that.

However, they met tragic ends due to horrific events.

Betrayed by allies, used as sacrifices, or discarded.

Occasionally, the word "Demon King" would appear in these tragic stories.

In this world, "Demon King" is a term with a special meaning.

The reason for the vague expression is that the object referred to by "Demon King" seems to vary by era.

He hadn't heard the details yet.

But the spirits all said in unison,

"The term 'Demon King' is like a label that can be attached and changed."

That was what they said.

The spirits seemed to have bitter memories associated with the term "Demon King," as they didn't talk about it in detail.

As a result, it was hard to understand how it related to the tragedies.

Still, from the fragmented information he gathered, he inferred that "Demon King" referred to—

—A "powerful" and "embodiment of evil" existence.

Once, he asked Flandre to confirm this.

Flandre smiled wryly and said,

"Not exactly, but close enough."

When he asked other spirits, he got answers like,

"In the past…"

or,

"It was used to refer to such things."

or,

"In my time, the meaning had already changed."

These answers didn't sit well with him.

The meaning had changed?

From what to what?

After asking around the spirits, he eventually returned to Flandre, who reluctantly said,

"The term 'Demon King' changed from referring to a powerful and evil existence to just a powerful being."

The meaning of "embodiment of evil" had been removed from the term "Demon King."

Was it removed naturally, or by someone's intention?

—What exactly is a Demon King?

In the end, a vague feeling lingered in Merea's heart.

◆◆◆

"Do I really need to do this at my age!?"

"Absolutely, it's necessary. What would you do if you faced a Demon King? Demon Kings often advance their own 'power research.' Some start with elite education from a young age and inherit mystical rituals. That's how it was in my time."

Still, he had been hearing this term more frequently from the spirits recently.

On the other hand, Merea was also gathering information about the Demon King through his own independent routes.

"I still don't quite understand what a Demon King is!"

"Well, Flandre will talk about it when the time is right."

"That's a cheap way to dodge the question…!"

Merea said in a reproachful tone while dodging the fireball.

"By the way, I heard that Demon Kings are declining these days."

This was information about the Demon King he had obtained through his own independent route.

It was fragmented, but it was information he hadn't heard from the spirits.

When Merea asked in a probing manner, the large male spirit supervising his training—Tyrant—looked surprised and asked,

"Who told you that?"

Then, Tyrant's face changed to one of realization,

"—Ah, Curtista."

That was the name of the Heavenly Dragon who had visited the summit of Lindholm Spirit Mountain a few days ago.

Merea's independent information source was not a spirit but that Heavenly Dragon, Curtista.

"Sure, he knows a lot."

"I only heard that much… Oh!"

A fireball passed by Merea's feet.

He jumped over it and continued,

"So, what do you think?"

Tyrant fell silent for a moment, thinking,

"Even if they are declining, similar ones will appear. The name will just change."

Tyrant's words were strangely serious.

Before Merea could ask what he meant, Tyrant continued,

"The words don't matter. The problem is that if such a 'powerful existence' turns against you and, for example, targets your friends, it's better to have the power to protect yourself."

"That's true, but…"

The meaning of this training was there.

To train him to become a hero who can protect others.

"Then let's work hard. You have good potential. You can keep up in this harsh environment. Being dead once must have given you a different kind of resolve, a resolve to live."

Tyrant said quickly, changing the subject.

Merea noticed the intentional change of topic and, as the fireballs flying around him wouldn't let him talk, reluctantly went along with it.

"I never had the time to make a resolve…!!"

Merea had no lingering regrets from his previous life. He had lived to the best of his ability.

Although his life was short, he felt he had done what he could.

However, the sadness of spending his life in a heavy, unyielding body was strongly etched in his mind.

Therefore, he was deeply grateful to be born into a body that could move.

If he were to reincarnate again after dying, there was no guarantee that he would be born into a body that could move.

—This might be the last time I can be 'me.'

He might only have this one chance to carry his knowledge and memories and traverse the world.

When he thought about such things, Merea became determined to live in the present.

This determination might have been due to his experience of reincarnation.

"Alright, two more hours."

"Two, two hours!?"

"Don't worry, you've gotten used to the altitude. I'll be playing a board game with Flandre over there, so keep dodging the fireballs until then. See you."

With that, the large-bodied spirit Tyrant turned and waved, heading towards Flandre, who was watching Merea run around with a smile.

—Just watching.

He wasn't going to stop it.

—Flandre is quite sadistic with that smile…

Merea, seeing this, sighed and said,

"Whoa! Close call! My hair is getting singed!"

For the remaining two hours, he continued to dodge the fireballs.