episode_0082

“So you’ve secured the imperial throne. Seems you’re quite confident.”

“Confident? That’s incorrect.”

“Uh… Then?”

“Certainty. Everyone already tacitly accepts that I will become emperor. Be it academic achievement or governance, I surpass all my siblings. Of course, there are still a few fools who refuse to acknowledge it and flail about… Well, it’s no real issue.”

As expected, things are moving faster here than in the original world. At this point in time, Elia should have been locked in a fierce struggle with the first prince, her most formidable rival for the throne. Though victory would inevitably go to Elia, she shouldn’t yet have enough damning evidence to completely crush him. This means even Elia is already acting based on information from previous iterations.

Somehow, I’m growing increasingly dissatisfied with my own plans, but now that I’ve spoken up, there’s no taking it back.

“Anyway, you need my intel, don’t you? Even if you become emperor, winning over the people’s hearts won’t happen overnight.”

“True. But that’s not the only reason I’ve agreed to help you.”

“Is there another?”

“Because you are far more important to me than my current ambitions. Helping you is only natural.”

“Ugh, spare me the pointless duty talk. I didn’t come here to listen to your ideological lectures.”

Damn ability supremacist. Elia’s twisted worldview was ironic—despite its distortions, in this world, she was the one contributing the most to the continent, more than anyone else. In the previous iteration, I’d tried persuading her that humans shouldn’t be ranked and that each should be respected, but this world was far too different from the one I’d lived in.

Here, the disparity in innate talent manifested visibly in magic and swordsmanship, and beyond that, an unbreakable hierarchy of social status existed. At least with the caste system, Elia had rejected it herself thanks to the shining counterexample of Luciella. But the idea of discrimination based on talent remained deeply ingrained in her mind.

“Why? Even you, blessed with the ‘talent’ of prophecy, are now acting so vigorously. The Eric Grave of before would never have done such a thing.”

“People aren’t driven by talent, I keep telling you. Even if I didn’t have this prophetic ability, I’d still be me.”

“Coming from someone who’s already gained a talent, that lacks persuasiveness. Talent changes people. Whether innate or acquired, it doesn’t matter.”

“Would you have said the same to me back in my first semester? I already had this talent then.”

“Precisely why I’m offering you my full cooperation now. Dismissing your gift as mere lunacy, belittling your resolve—I’ll repay every slight and all the collateral damage caused by it, exactly as you wish.”

I didn’t ask if she could. If Elia couldn’t do it now, no one could.

“Christine and Cecilia’s watchers, then. I can’t move personally, but I’ll assign trustworthy people. Unlike Luciella, those two have no talent for combat, so it should be fine.”

“Apologize to the students training hard after class at the academy right now.”

Cecilia and Christine were relatively weak in combat—not weak outright.

“Hmph. They’re talentless anyway. My new empire won’t need their sweat.”

“New empire, huh? Seems you’ve already drafted its framework in your head.”

“The difference between the ordinary and the talented is clear. Thus, it’s only right for the talented to use their gifts for those without. The latter are lacking, needing protection—just like you in the past, or the empire’s citizens now.”

“You’re completely disregarding human will, their resolve.”

“What’s this? Didn’t you say you didn’t want to hear ideological debates?”

“I thought so at first. But it feels like if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get the chance again…”

Just this brief exchange made one thing clear: if I didn’t advise Elia here, she’d end up exactly as she was before.

In the first iteration, I was barely keeping my head above water, but now I have some leeway. Once Luciella draws the holy sword, things will get too hectic for serious conversations like this.

“Well, think of it as advice from the prophet to the future emperor.”

Elia gave a slight nod. Probably a signal to continue.

“You don’t understand human hearts. And because of that, even if you ascend the throne, your ‘perfect empire’ will remain a pipe dream.”

“A pipe dream?”

“Bullshit. That’s what it is.”

I stated it plainly.

“I can’t accept that. Historically, eras were shaped by the choices of the exceptional.”

“And those ‘exceptional’ were raised by ordinary people. Are all the attendants around you now ‘special’ by your standards?”

“Our discussion concerns the empire’s direction and the demon king’s defeat—not how ordinary people live. Of course, some may achieve greatness unseen, even those without noble blood or connections. But they are all people of resolve.”

“Resolve? Not talent?”

“‘Talent’ is just a convenient label to separate the ordinary from the extraordinary. In truth, most of the ‘talented’ achieve greatness precisely because they’ve made a resolve.”

“Even the talentless can make resolves.”

“And most of those end in meaningless ruin. Who takes responsibility for their shattered lives? Will you shoulder it for them?”

“Failing after taking a risk is their own responsibility!”

“What’s wrong with an emperor wanting her people’s happiness? History doesn’t need the sacrifices of the mediocre.”

“Haah…”

This was going in circles. The infuriating part was that Elia harbored no malice or lust for power. She genuinely pitied the untalented, the failures, and sought to save them.

If Cecilia, as a saint, offered spiritual solace, Elia sought to build a tangible foundation for their survival.

In a way, Elia’s current worldview wasn’t entirely wrong.

Life is suffering. Failure is terrifying. So why struggle needlessly? She’d bear the painful choices herself—everyone else could just live ordinary lives. It was the same vision as a certain ninja manga’s villain.

But with that mindset, she’d never defeat the demon king. The world she wanted to create was full of holes, but telling her now would be pointless.

In the first iteration, most of her attempts had succeeded. Advice to someone on a winning streak would only sound like envy.

So for now, nudging her perspective slightly would have to suffice.

“People don’t move because of talent or resolve. Even ordinary folk can throw away their lives, while undefeated warriors may freeze in place. You said history turns on the great moments of great people? Wrong. Changing the world is much simpler.”

“Hm? Simpler?”

“Almost no one acts after careful deliberation, planning, and deciding they must do something. You might not understand, but I’m like that. And I’m not alone. Humans are far dumber than you think. We just… move without even knowing why.”

I’d botched things multiple times out of impatience. To Elia, this “prophetic” possession of mine must seem like a splendid ‘talent.’ But I don’t consider myself wise or a world-changing figure.

What’s so great about me?

“……”

While those girls marched ahead on the battlefield, wielding dazzling weapons without hesitation, I stayed behind, watching the wounded and abandoned. Compared to the hero’s party, they were all insignificant, unremarkable.

Yet they had chosen to fight of their own will, and they did leave something behind.

Even I, who spent sleepless nights wondering when I could return, could never say their sacrifices meant nothing.