I Became the Final Subjugation Target of That Era’s Light Novel

Can my resilience keep pace with the speed at which I get hurt?

Thus, I pondered.

Surprisingly, I didn’t worry about dying.

It wasn’t due to some noble reason where I could protect someone by sacrificing my life. Rather, it was because every time I faced the brink of death, there was someone who met me.

“Looks like you’re struggling a bit.”

Yeah. That voice.

It was that voice.

As if it genuinely cared for me.

Was that voice what pushed me here? To not let me live happily?

“Are you afraid of leisure? Or do you seem suspicious?”

The voice spoke.

Everything around me came to a halt.

The world was already calm. The nest has a peculiar aspect where entering it causes all sounds to quiet, leaving just me, Yuka, and the Yōkai.

I couldn’t even hear the sounds of cars or people chatting from afar. Not even the sound of trees swaying in the wind.

Once all movement ceased, only silence remained.

Several tentacles surged toward Yuka. It was not a good sight. It’s never good to see a monster attacking a friend, but I felt that the image made it worse.

Novels nowadays often insert weird elements targeting somewhat older audiences. They ensure that happiness is never attained. What a strange story. Scars never truly disappear with time. Yet, they insist on leaving scars, much like tattooing, under the pretext of loss and growth. On both body and mind.

That hasn’t happened to me yet. Not a single character in any novel I’d read showed such signs. However, this place felt less like a novel and more like a world seriously twisted because of me.

“Is wishing for happiness a sin?”

I asked without even realizing it.

A question I couldn’t ask Kagami. A question I couldn’t ask my friends.

“Do you think it’s a sin?”

“She” asked.

“…I don’t know. A sin is a sin simply because someone declared it so.”

“I see. It seems that what you and those around you call laws and morals are indeed that. Stray from that, and you’re deemed a sinner.”

“She” chuckled softly and said.

“No, it seems you don’t think wanting something could be a sin. Wanting is merely wanting.”

“…….”

I shut up.

The voice always subtly delivered such messages to me. It seemed to be looking out for me. When discussing others, it spoke with a condescending tone, looming above.

“I don’t know the morals of you and your group. But even though the definitions of goodness may differ, there are necessities to protect what is good.”

“She” whispered into my ear softly.

“You need strength.”

Yeah. That was true.

The term “strength” is broad. It might simply refer to the ability to lift something. However, generally, when someone says “I need strength,” they are referring to their overall capacity to act.

“You are the lamb of “she.”

“She” said.

“I wouldn’t want you to extinguish so easily.”

“…Then?”

“Since I told you to live happily, it’s best to grant strength for happiness, isn’t it?”

“Now?”

There had been many moments when we crossed paths. The voice had already saved me twice.

“To receive strength, you need a sufficiently developed body. Just like your sister.”

I couldn’t respond to that voice, laced with laughter.

“Your small body has almost grown. You won’t die while bleeding out from trying to do something. It would be nice if you could grow a bit more, but it seems better to be satisfied with this much. That’s how people are.”

“She” suggested.

“Then let’s make a contract.”

“If I make a contract, can I protect you?”

“That’s in your hands. The wielding of power varies based on what one does with it. But still, if you wish to do so, surely you can.”

“…Can I be happy?”

“That, too, will depend on how you view it. If you vow to protect, isn’t that enough for your happiness?”

I couldn’t muster a response to that.

Instead, I merely nodded.

“Good.”

“She” laughed.

“Then it’s settled. Watch for a while. I will be watching over you.”

With a somewhat cheerful tone, “she” spoke as if playing with words.

Suddenly, my marked wrist felt as if it were burning; it stung. I couldn’t scream.

My arm bent upwards, and the wound gazed at the sky.

That wound opened up, taking the shape of an eye. From the pupil, red tears slowly floated upwards towards the heavens.

Each drop elongated and thinned, turning into threads.

That thread, woven from my wound, steadily transformed into a blade, as if weaving fabric, starting from the top. It resembled something out of a 3D printer.

In no time, it became a crimson sword. A rather long blade, similar in size to the one Yuka was holding.

My hand instinctively moved to grasp that sword. The hilt was warm, just like the blood I’d spilled moments ago.

On my wrist, something was painted in red.

The voice of “she” faded away.

But I could immediately understand what it wanted me to do.

I swung the sword. Just a light swing, yet it split everything in half, as though a very strong and sturdy wire connected at the tip had sliced through areas beyond its reach.

The Yōkai, who loathe my blood, screamed naturally. I had no idea where their cries were directed, though.

The tentacles of the octopus split apart like pointed shells, up and down.

And blood splattered everywhere.

“…Koto Ne?”

Yuka momentarily froze, looking in my direction.

Yuka was also splattered with blood. I could see a few wounds. I hoped they wouldn’t leave scars.

Given that scars weren’t described distinctly in the novels, perhaps Yuka had her own way of healing without leaving marks.

…Let’s think about that later.

There was something more pressing at hand.

I gripped the sword tightly. Although it was a blade I’d never learned to wield properly,

For now, I would just swing it.

Isn’t it a sword bestowed upon me by God?

I should be able to handle at least a monster.

“Yuka.”

“…Yeah?”

Her expression showed she still hadn’t grasped the situation. But upon seeing my movement, she followed suit.

Maybe, just maybe, I could pull this off.

I sensed it.

*

Waking up in the middle of the night was because I couldn’t feel the children in my arms.

It wasn’t just that the children had vanished; it was likely because the air in the dead of night was that cold. The warmth that used to envelop me was gone.

If one child had disappeared, I might have thought they went to get a drink of water. But since they both were gone…

Were they perhaps sharing some secret talks?

Feeling uneasy, I stood up. The only person I could see was Maeda.

Carefully raising my body so as not to wake Maeda, I made my way downstairs.

In the living room, only Nanami-chan was sleeping.

A slight chill crept down my spine.

Feeling a sudden urgency, I turned my head, spotting that the living room door was slightly ajar.

I hurriedly bolted out through that door.

Please, let it not be true.

I didn’t even know what I hoped was untrue as I stepped outside.

In the distance, I saw Coco’s silhouette on the beach.

Koto Ne was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly realizing, I was outside, barefoot, crossing the street, running on the sandy beach.

“Koto Ne?”

Coco tilted her head, gazing into the air. I had an inkling of what that meant—

My heart raced.

I was the one who assured them it would be alright to be here. I had been the one to comfort Koto Ne, holding her tight as I told her everything would be fine.

It was greed. Yes, it had been ages since I had gone on a trip like this. And since Kosuzu had used up her energy, I thought it would be fine for a while.

“Koto Ne!”

I called out without even realizing it, knowing she wouldn’t hear me.

“Mom?”

Coco turned back and called for me. She didn’t seem to understand what was going on yet.

“Where’s Koto Ne? Where is she?”

As I gripped Coco’s shoulders, I knew she wouldn’t know. Coco just tilted her head.

I was about to call Koto Ne again, but suddenly, the scent of blood filled the air.

A scent I had smelled before.

At that time, Koto Ne was—

“Koto Ne!”

I saw someone calling Koto Ne’s name, catching her as she collapsed.

Before I knew it, I was running again.

Holding the small child in my arms—I realized something was damp. The child’s body was wet, not with seawater or sweat,

But with blood.

Perhaps, this child’s own blood.

“Mom.”

A broken voice called out to me.

The child was smiling. Why was she smiling in such a situation? It would be normal to burst into tears of pain or lament me.

The child lifted her hand and touched my face.

Her wrist was torn open. From that horrifying gap, blood gushed out, and I froze.

The red sword that had fallen carelessly beside her melted away, disappearing into a bloody puddle.

A faint shape emerged in the wake of the blood on her wrist.

“Ah, ah,”

What was I supposed to say? Words wouldn’t form. My throat felt choked. My vision blurred with tears, so I simply shut my eyes tightly.

I just held Koto Ne close.

The child I swore to protect, the one I was supposed to have shielded.

Is this what fate means? Is it something one expects to have gone well yet turns out differently?

Yes, it’s all my fault.

The child was already suffering. It hadn’t been common for her to return home stained with blood since our first fight—

But it must have always been like this.

It must have always been like this.

Always, always.

Do I even have the right to cry in front of the child? I don’t know. But sobs slipped through my teeth regardless.

What should I do?

What should I do…?

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