Chapter 271: Ship of Theseus Part 9

It was all over.

There were no reserve forces left, and the self-evolution system was broken.

There’s no time to repair it.

Even if it were repaired, with the foundation completely destroyed, the dream of reaching space could never be realized.

“Total defeat.”

Precise calculation had always been his specialty, and the design of the script itself was flawless.

There was only one thing he lacked: actual combat experience.

That was why he lost to such a crude trick.

“……”

The Scriptwriter looked up at the sky.

He saw nothing.

As Asterion fell, it had destroyed every ceiling in its path, yet the very last layer still remained intact.

Just one layer. Only a single floor.

Because of that one floor, the Scriptwriter could not see the starry sky he had dreamed of.

– Ha……

It was unfair.

He had failed. This was the end.

So he should just accept it?

After having the dream of a lifetime obstructed?

Yes, the self-evolution system was dead, and his output had dropped so low that resistance itself was meaningless.

– But I can’t accept it.

He couldn’t simply resign himself so easily.

Even if it was pointless, he wanted to resist until the very end.

Bang!

The Scriptwriter who had been slumped as if he had accepted everything, suddenly swung his fist at Theseus.

For Theseus, who thought it was all over, it was completely bewildering.

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

It didn’t hurt.

It was just irritating to be suddenly punched.

Of course, since it was a metal fist, it did carry some force.

– I’m just pissed off!

“No, what kind of childish tantrum is—?!”

The self-evolution system was broken.

Along with it, the combat support system was also destroyed.

The punches thrown by an old man who had spent half his life in a workshop were light.

– It’s unfair. It’s so damn unfair! That I have to stop here!

Just as Theseus said, it was nothing more than a tantrum.

He had lived his entire life clinging to a dream.

But he had never truly believed that he would definitely achieve it.

After all, only a tiny fraction of people ever manage to realize their dreams.

That was why he had considered the possibility of failure.

He had even accepted that his dream might be trampled by someone else’s.

– I haven’t given it my all yet! I could’ve done more!

“……”

Tap!

Theseus calmly blocked the Scriptwriter’s fist.

Theseus remembered.

Beyond those playful eyes, he knew the old man’s passion…how he was always looking up at his dream.

That was why he also understood the meaning behind this completely pointless outburst.

“No. It’s over. You lost without achieving your dream.”

– ……!

Cruel words, utterly unlike Theseus.

At them, the Scriptwriter’s body trembled violently as he poured out his emotions.

– I know that without you telling me! No one knows it better than I do! That’s why this is just me venting my anger!

Crunch!

Theseus pinned the Scriptwriter’s arm down with his sword and shattered it.

Even after losing an arm, the Scriptwriter did not stop attacking.

Block. Slash. Break.

Theseus knew.

To take a dream away from an old man who had chased it his entire life, you had no choice but to destroy him completely.

The Scriptwriter did not stop. No…he could not stop.

He had already been running with broken brakes.

And so, the only moment he could stop was the moment he was smashed to pieces.

Crunch!

As if finishing a task, Theseus broke the Scriptwriter apart.

Just as he had done in the Veldani Mountains, he thoroughly destroyed his opponent.

“Hup!”

Crunch!

But there was one difference from back then.

This time, he fought while recognizing that his opponent was a person.

With his own hands, he destroyed an old man who had been no different from family to him.

“Are you satisfied?”

After severing all of the Scriptwriter’s limbs and finally driving his sword into the torso, Theseus asked in a calm voice.

– Of course not.

“Then please depart while carrying that regret with you.”

– =So it shall be.

The life of the old man who had run toward his dream finally came to a halt here.

The inventor who had built a ship aimed at the cosmos still kept his eyes fixed on the stars.

Even at the very end, he could not abandon his dream.

Knowing that, the Scriptwriter asked, carrying deep regret.

– Theseus.

“Yes.”

– What is your dream?

“Didn’t you know?”

– Well, you’re such a dull fellow, I wondered if you even had something like a dream.

“I do.”

– You? Really?

It wasn’t just my imagination that it sounded like “You, of all people?”

“My dream is…”

Theseus looked up at the sky.

Beyond the gaping hole that ran from underground to the surface, the lights attached to the final ceiling were still shining.

“……”

Crash!

Theseus swung his radiance and shattered that last ceiling.

Far away, the stars came into view.

Seen from underground, the stars were unimpressive, obscured by building walls and scattered debris.

And so, from within that small well, the frogs looked up at the sky.

“Someday, it is to escape this well and head out into the world. Into the world beyond that starry sky.”

– …….

The Scriptwriter had agonized for a long time before using the self-evolution system.

For someone who had spent his entire life running straight toward his dream, that hesitation was unusual.

Why was that?

Was he afraid of no longer being himself?

He had asked himself the question again and again.

He had even asked others about his own identity.

But now, he understood.

There had been another way for him.

Another way to achieve his dream.

– It’s a fine dream.

“Yes. I believe it truly is.”

Long ago, a naïve crown prince who had fled the imperial castle wandered the world.

Theseus who had merely fled the imperial castle wandered the world aimlessly, with no destination to speak of.

It was Deus who took him in.

The ill-tempered old man didn’t care whether Theseus was of imperial blood or not. He put him to work in exchange for food and a place to sleep.

He made no effort to hide his identity.

He didn’t particularly conceal the experiments he was conducting and even went so far as to use Theseus for them.

Even back then, Theseus knew at least that Ex Machina was a terrorist organization.

Yet the reason he followed Deus in silence was—

“It must have been a dream magnificent enough to be utterly captivating.”

Because he had seen the stars those eyes were chasing.

Because in the eyes of a withering old man, he had seen a yearning more pure than that of a child.

– Theseus.

Theseus was a dull man. That was because he was too upright.

But that upright man was always looking in the same direction as the mischievous old man.

To Theseus, the Scriptwriter Deus was both family and an object of admiration.

– Go and fulfill your dream.

And he was a single ship sailing together toward the stars.

Of course, that ship would sometimes break down, and there were times when its parts had to be replaced.

After replacing its components one by one, the ship eventually lost its original form.

– It doesn’t have to be aimed at the starry sky. Even a trivial dream is fine.

So, did that ship change?

No, the ship did not change.

Its appearance may have changed.

Its shape may have changed.

Many more things would change in the future as well.

But—

—Just being able to dream makes the world look this beautiful.

“The Ship of Theseus” would continue to sail toward dreams.

The Scriptwriter Deus dreamed.

But at the moment when his voyage that had not stopped even at the threshold of death finally came to an end, he at last realized it.

– Theseus, I…

That the place where his ship was floating was already—

– It was good to be able to dream!

A sea of stars.

***

The Imperial Castle.

Abraham Vicious von Miltonia was gazing up at the starry sky.

It was the third day since the Scriptwriter Deus had occupied Creta.

“Goodness, it’s been a while since you’ve been taking such a barrage of curses.”

“I suppose so.”

Abraham smiled faintly at the reproach of the Black Knight Lanius who was letting out heavy sighs. Given that he had openly displayed such a blatant political stance, it was only natural.

Abraham knew.

He knew the weight of this affair, the risks born of his own choice.

And he knew what the Scriptwriter Deus meant to Theseus.

“Was it really necessary to go this far?”

“If you ask whether it was necessary…then yes, it was.”

In a situation like this, pressuring Creta was not a wise choice.

To anyone’s eyes, it was a transparently political move, one that would only chill public sentiment, with nothing to be gained in return.

And yet, Abraham believed it had to be done.

“Lanius, I could not be that child’s parent. I was an emperor lacking in strength, and he was a prince who had to stand on his own.”

“Lacking in strength? That doesn’t even make any sense—”

“I chose to become a tyrant. It was a decision made to unite the Empire.”

Because he had to be a cold and cruel tyrant, he could not act as a father to a single child.

“I am not that boy’s father. But the family he himself chose, the people who treated him like family, are right there.”

After his conversation with the Scriptwriter Deus,

Abraham came to understand what Deus was to Theseus.

“Even if I cannot be his father, should I really interfere with a reunion between family?”

There was no affection.

But there was, at the very least, a minimum duty.

Because he was a tyrant, he granted an opportunity in a tyrant’s own way.

Failure was acceptable. Even if everything went wrong, all the blame would be his to bear as the tyrant.

“And I am an incompetent and cruel tyrant. That is the only way……”

The long-laid plan was nearing fruition.

At the end of that plan, Abraham had to die as a tyrant the likes of which the world had never seen.

Only then would light finally come to this unbearably unstable Empire.

“We will become the nourishment of the world through a death more wretched than any other.”

Abraham raised his glass.

For some reason, the finest wine said to produce only five bottles a year tasted worse than it had when he drank it with Deus.

After emptying the cup that left behind nothing but bitterness, Abraham spoke to the girl standing quietly beside Lanius, as if the thought had suddenly occurred to him.

“Oracle.”

“……Yes.”

“Once, long ago, a friend asked me an interesting question.”

The Scriptwriter Deus’s hesitation.

The fate of a ship built to sail toward the cosmos.

Theseus asked the Oracle,

“Can that ship truly be called the same ship as before?”

It was a foolish question.

To Abraham, it was a dialogue utterly devoid of meaning.

But for her, it would be different.

“That ship is……”

The Oracle. The Book of Lemegeton borrowing the form of a girl named Alice.

The girl who was more fitting for this question than anyone else answered without hesitation.

“It is different from the previous ship.”

The girl wanted to be “herself”.

***

The Scriptwriter died.

Or, to be precise, the machine device that called itself the Scriptwriter was destroyed……

Well, whether it was truly him or not, drawing that distinction would be meaningless anyway.

“Ugh…….”

I was lying in the dwelling of the Misfits, skimming through a newspaper.

The chess pieces I had moved to deceive the Scriptwriter had returned to their original places.

It had been a gamble, thrown in with the belief that Helena’s divine power could restore my body. But thankfully, it worked out.

Helena did demand an astronomical sum from me, but what would a child know? Still, just in case, I told her to put it on Catleya’s tab.

“Haah…….”

I let out a deep sigh as I skimmed through the newspaper. There was an article reporting that the gigantic mechanical fortress that had swallowed Creta had collapsed overnight.

“Looks like Emily did a good job.”

There was no way we could just leave behind a cutting-edge structure of that scale.

If it were to fall into the hands of the Emperor, villains, or the remnants of Ex Machina, there was no telling how it might be abused. So we decided it would be cleaner to destroy it outright.

Thankfully, it seemed Emily had handled that part thoroughly. I really couldn’t lift my head in front of her.

“Maybe it’s about time I headed back too……”

I had stayed at the Misfits’ hideout for a while to keep an eye on the situation, but by now, it seemed fair to say things had been resolved.

The winter that had descended upon the Empire had retreated, and spring would soon arrive.

The aftermath of the war was being neatly cleaned up, and the battle with the Scriptwriter had been quietly settled beneath the surface.

By any measure, things had gone fairly well.

However, one problem remained. Or rather, one had arisen.

I returned to the front page of the newspaper in my hand and read the very first line.

[Theseus Vicious von Miltonia, First Imperial Prince, Returns to the Imperial Palace?!]

I had sent Lobelia’s greatest adversary back to the Imperial capital.