The warm morning sun dappled through the leaves, painting shifting patterns on the forest floor. Naomi and I sat there, a comfortable silence settling between us after the whirlwind of the capital. She was a few feet away, knees drawn up to her chest, occasionally glancing at me, then at the empty sky. I, too, was looking up, waiting. Ryu. He was supposed to be back by now.
Naomi shifted, her gaze still worried. She was definitely on edge. The events of the trial, Myne's forced confessions, the stark exposure of the slave mark's power, and her own brave but terrifying decision had taken their toll. She was quiet, almost fragile. Her dependence on me, which had blossomed from pure necessity, was now palpable, a silent plea in her every glance. I knew I couldn't stay.
"He'll be here," I said, my voice cutting through her anxious silence. "Ryu's not one to dawdle when he says he'll do something."
She nodded, though the slight tremble in her hands belied her calm demeanor. "He... he was very kind," she whispered, a faint blush on her cheeks as she thought of the massive dragon. It was endearing, really, the way this terrified girl found solace in a monstrous beast.
We sat for a bit longer, the forest sounds filling the quiet. I knew what was coming. I had to leave. My mission here was largely complete, at least the part I could directly influence. Her innocence was established. Myne was exposed. The King was forced to act. My personal quest for answers, for a way back, for strength, lay beyond this world.
"Will... will you leave now?" Naomi asked, her voice barely a whisper, the question hanging heavy in the air. Her eyes, so often filled with fear or resolve, now held a deep, profound sadness. She looked at me like a lost child abandoned in a vast, indifferent world.
My gut twisted. This girl, broken by her own world, had latched onto me, a complete stranger from another dimension, as her sole anchor. And I was about to cut that anchor. "Yes," I said, the word feeling rough on my tongue. "I have to. There are other things I need to do, other places I need to be."
Her head dropped slightly, her shoulders slumping. The silence that followed was heavier than before, laced with her unspoken disappointment, her renewed vulnerability. It hurt to see, to know I was causing it. But I couldn't be her permanent protector. I had my own path. And staying would only hinder her own growth.
A low rumble, growing in intensity, vibrated through the ground. A shadow fell over us. Ryu. He landed in front of us with a powerful beat of his wings, shaking the very trees, then settled into a crouch. His massive head dipped towards me.
"Is your task done?" I asked, looking up at his enormous eyes.
He rumbled an affirmative, a deep, satisfied sound. I knew what that "task" was. He had gone to find his own variant in this universe, to connect, perhaps to gather information about other dragons. It was something we'd discussed offhandedly while Naomi was asleep, a personal favor for allowing him to tag along. I didn't elaborate in front of Naomi; some things were better left unsaid.
I stood up, dusting off my clothes. The moment of departure had arrived. "Well," I said, my voice trying to be firm, "I have to go now."
Naomi gasped. Her head shot up, her eyes wide with a fresh wave of panic. She scrambled forward, grabbing my hand, her fingers surprisingly strong as they gripped my wrist. "No!" she pleaded, her voice cracking. "Don't go! Please!"
"What's wrong?" I asked, though I knew exactly what was wrong. Her fear of being alone.
Her grip tightened. "Where... where will you go after this?" she asked, desperation etching her features. "Can... can I join you on your journey? Please! I... I won't be a bother! I can help!"
I looked at her, at her earnest, hopeful, terrified face. And I knew the answer. "No," I said, the word a flat, definitive cut. "You can't."
Her hand went limp on my wrist. Her eyes clouded over, glistening with unshed tears, her face crumpling into despair. The sadness was instant, profound. I felt like a villain, ripping away her last shred of hope.
"There's no need to be sad," I said, trying to soften the blow, pushing the next part of my plan into action. "I'm leaving Ryu with you here. He'll train you."
Ryu shifted, his gaze moving from me to Naomi. He let out a low rumble. "Huh? W-well yeah. Even though I am a dragon, I couldn't leave a vulnerable girl alone like that." His words, of course, were for Naomi's sake. I knew the truth. Ryu wanted to stay here. He wanted to continue to meet his variant from this universe, to explore his own existence in this new reality. My allowing him to stay here wasn't out of altruism; it was a convenient overlap of our goals. I just grinned slightly, ignoring his feigned noble intentions.
I patted Naomi's head once, briefly, then pulled my hand from her grasp. "Goodbye, both of you," I said.
As I turned, activating the Multiversal Pass, I saw them. Tears, glistening in Naomi's eyes, rolling silently down her cheeks. A single, crystalline drop of despair.
And then, the world dissolved. The forest, Ryu, Naomi and her silent tears. All of it faded into the familiar shimmer of teleportation.
In Original Universe
Melty's POV:~
My name is Melty Melromarc, second princess of Melromarc, and, by some twist of fate, first in line of succession. Most of my life, I've been traveling with my mother, the Queen. It's her job to navigate the treacherous waters of international diplomacy, ensuring our kingdom doesn't stumble into war. My purpose on these journeys is to learn from her, to absorb the intricate dance of negotiations and veiled threats that keeps the world turning.
About two months ago, everything changed. A strange phenomenon, dubbed the Waves of Destruction, began to plague our world. The first wave struck while Mother and I were still traveling. Before we could even consider going home, we were summoned to an international conference in Faubrey, specifically to discuss these new, terrifying threats. We were slated to attend a panel on national defense, but the air was thick with tension, not cooperation.
Our kingdom's unique ability to summon the Holy Heroes usually granted us significant diplomatic leverage. It was a card Mother often played with subtle grace. This conference was no exception. There was a lot of talk about the summoning ceremony itself, a peculiar show-and-tell where representatives from each country would observe how it was performed in different places. The first ceremony was to take place in Faubrey, the host nation. But it was a catastrophic failure. The Heroes never arrived.
"Mother," I remember asking, genuinely puzzled, "why don't they hold the conference after the Heroes have arrived? Wouldn't that make more sense?"
Mother sighed, a soft, almost imperceptible sound as she adjusted her fan. "Some things are too difficult to decide simply pragmatically, Melty," she explained, her voice as calm as a summer breeze, yet full of underlying wisdom. "Whether they be between people or between countries. The world wants a show of unity, even if it's a facade."
So, every country was to attempt the ceremony, and we were expected to participate, even if just to demonstrate our supposed good faith. The façade cracked, however, when it became glaringly clear that Melromarc had already performed the summoning ceremony without notifying any of the other nations.
The world was already a complicated, hostile place before this happened. Our premature summoning was like throwing oil on a bonfire. It ignited a serious international dispute. Accusations, threats, and thinly veiled contempt filled every meeting room. Things spiraled rapidly after that. Assassins were sent after my mother, a chilling testament to the anger we'd provoked, and the conference itself descended into chaos.
I couldn't help but feel it was Father's fault, and the church associates he surrounded himself with. But then, a creeping suspicion began to form in my mind – perhaps my sister, Malty, had a hand in it too. Her ambition was boundless, and her loyalty… debatable.
"You Melromarc weasels! You want sole control over the Heroes, is that it?!" a delegate from a rival nation roared, thrusting an accusatory finger at my mother. He was red-faced, veins bulging in his neck.
Mother, ever the picture of composure, didn't flinch. She simply covered her mouth with her folding fan, her eyes calm and assessing. I was shocked when she responded, her voice as cool as ice. "Would you like me to say that we aim to take over the world?"
"What was that?!" the delegate sputtered, clearly caught off guard.
"Perhaps you mean to declare war against my country, which possesses all of the four Holy Heroes?" Mother continued, her gaze unwavering, her voice gaining an almost imperceptible edge of steel. "Think carefully about that."
"Ugh…" The delegate visibly deflated, his accusations dying in his throat.
I knew my mother well enough to see past her calm exterior. Beneath that unflappable demeanor, she was deeply troubled. The strain of the negotiations, the accusations, the constant threats, all weighed heavily on her. Soon, she fell sick. A fever gripped her, making it difficult to swallow, yet she hid her discomfort with incredible willpower. She participated in every meeting, pushing the narrative that we summoned the Heroes purely for our own protection. Her resilience, her unyielding dedication, filled me with immense respect. She had a willpower like no other.
"However," Mother conceded, her voice still strong despite her illness, "depending on the conditions you propose, we are not opposed to sharing the Heroes. Depending on the conditions, naturally."
"We can't trust you!" another voice cried out.
"Is that so?" Mother countered, her gaze sweeping across the room, challenging every delegate present. "The world is in a deep crisis, and you would accuse my country of only protecting itself? Are there no other countries here that wish to pull ahead of the others?" The accusatory speaker swallowed his response. Mother had cornered him.
Then, with a flourish, my mother produced a report, a meticulously gathered document based on intelligence from her spies. It contained compromising information, secrets of other nations' ambitions. She turned the conversation on the most influential figure present. "King Faubrey?" she said, her voice dripping with politeness, "What do you think?"
To be honest, King Faubrey was a truly disturbing man. He was immense, like a writhing ball of flesh, bloated and unsettling. He reminded me of some monstrous pig you'd desperately want to avoid.
"Ahahaha…" King Faubrey chortled, his voice a low, guttural rumble. "Queen Melromarc, you know very well what it is I desire."
"Yes," Mother replied, her face unreadable. "All I need to do is agree to your conditions?"
The delegates around us were utterly shocked by the audacity of the conditions King Faubrey proposed. I knew then that my mother had to make an incredibly difficult decision, one that went against her personal principles, to satisfy his demands. She had walked a very difficult path to get to these negotiations, sacrificing much to preserve peace.
"Very well then," she announced, her voice firm. "All of your great nations will send envoys to Melromarc. They will meet with the Heroes, respect the wishes of the Heroes, and the Heroes will accompany them back to your lands."
The delegates all nodded along with my mother, a palpable sense of relief washing over the room. This tense, difficult truce was brokered just a few days after Melromarc had secretly summoned the Heroes.
A week later, however, the outcome surprised all of us, including me. All four of the Heroes had declined to meet with the envoys.
"That's not what we agreed to!" one delegate exploded, his face turning purple. The various countries had all been making extensive preparations for the Heroes' supposed visits, expecting their diplomatic boon. Now, they were furious, and the blame, naturally, fell back on my mother.
Mother remained calm. "It seems that the Heroes have discovered a disease within our kingdom," she stated, her voice a calm balm over the rising anger, "and they are currently making efforts to expunge it. They need a little more time." It was a plausible lie, one that shifted the focus, even if just for a moment.
"You liar!" A representative of Siltvelt, the demi-human nation, jumped up on his table in anger. The demi-humans of Siltvelt, I knew, held a particular reverence for the Shield Hero, bordering on worship.
"Really?" Mother challenged him, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. "Have you heard that the Shield Hero has asked to be left alone?"
Just then, a new voice, surprisingly calm and deep, cut through the clamor, coming from the entry gate of the conference hall. "I myself said it."