Ch.179179. Became a Hero (2) (Main Story End)

That was a ‘hand.’

I stared at the hand that appeared through the light pouring from the crack in the door. Through the shining, pure white cloth, all I could see were two hands. The ‘hand’ slowly approached us.

“You’ve finally reached this place.”

I felt Isha flinch behind me. The ‘hand’ stood there for a while, looking at us, then pulled down the cloth covering its body.

“Let’s talk for a moment.”

Standing beyond the cloth was a completely ordinary person. How should I describe them? Someone who wouldn’t look out of place anywhere, someone you might have passed by once before. Neither male nor female, neither tall nor short, with short hair. This person had a somewhat tired expression.

“Sit down, both Isha and Isha’s creation.”

I approached with Isha to his side. Somehow, the space where Isha and I had been confronting the evil god had transformed into a pure white room. In the center was a white round table with three chairs placed around it. The ‘ordinary person’ slowly approached the table and sat down.

“Have you developed a preference for tea, Isha?”

Isha blinked and turned to look at me. She seemed to want whatever tea I was having, so I spoke up first.

“I’d like black tea, please.”

“Then, I’ll have black tea as well.”

The ‘ordinary person’ looked back and forth between us and smiled. Suddenly, a steaming teapot and three cups appeared on the table. The ‘ordinary person’ picked up the pot and filled the cups.

“It may not be anything special, but please drink. It would be a shame to have a quiet conversation without tea.”

As they said, the tea wasn’t particularly special. I thought a gift from a mysterious being with mysterious powers might taste different somehow, but it was just like tea you could taste in any tea shop. Isha hesitated briefly, then tilted her cup and savored the tea.

“A favorite tea leaf, a favorite conversation topic, a favorite snack. Everyone needs such things. Even if they are heroes who saved the world.”

“Who… are you?”

At my question, the ‘ordinary person’ smiled faintly.

“What do you think I am?”

“God.”

The ‘ordinary person’ neither confirmed nor denied it. I waited tensely for their answer. Perhaps I should prepare to fight again.

“If I were God, why wouldn’t I have stepped in myself to subdue the rampaging evil gods?”

“Because you have no obligation to do so.”

It was an obvious statement. Gods have no duty or responsibility to care for their creations. Perhaps the evil gods are also this god’s creations. That’s why I was at maximum tension right now.

“I have no obligation to do so! Well, that’s not wrong, but you’re saying I don’t have even the minimum love for the things I created.”

The ‘ordinary person’ chuckled and picked up the teapot to refill the empty cups.

“Then, do you have it?”

“Of course I do. It’s because I love them that I don’t intervene. If I controlled everything as I wished, the world would be merely my model garden, not a true world at all.”

Was this an admission of being God? Or just the sophistry of a transcendent being?

“So, I removed my will. If I watch over my creations, I want to intervene, and the moment I start intervening, the meaning of watching over the world disappears. It means your very existence becomes meaningless.”

“Even if the outcome is destruction by those evil gods?”

“That depends on you all. Isha was the best I could do for this world. At least you needed a means to unite against the evil gods.”

Isha was the best they could do for this world? So they just created her so irresponsibly and left her until the universe died and was reborn? And that word, ‘means.’ Does this person see Isha as merely a tool? I couldn’t understand their words with my common sense. My face contorted.

“You can be angry, resent me, curse me. I knew it was wrong to do this to Isha. I still know it.”

“I suppose Isha and I could be angry and curse you, but you wouldn’t listen anyway.”

I spat out fiercely, and the ‘ordinary person’ drank from their teacup. As if my curses and hatred were contained in the tea, they drained it all at once and set it down.

“To make one more excuse, I didn’t want to fill this world with my self-satisfaction and turn it into puppets. Even if that world began to fill with malice and hatred, I chose to believe in people.”

The ‘ordinary person’ turned to Isha.

“They will survive in the end. Because there will always be those who live with the belief that this is right, in whatever way. I may have created Isha thinking of her as a tool, but she is not a tool, is she?”

“…”

“So, Isha can live too. Even if I abandoned her, she now has the strength to sustain her. Taking care of Isha is no longer my role. She is not my puppet. The person who must walk with Isha now is you, Ilroy.”

The ‘ordinary person’ then turned their gaze to me.

“And… you are not a being I planned. Just like every other person in this world. But at the same time, you are a being that contains some of Isha’s wishes. That’s why you could surpass the evil god and reach this place.”

They sighed deeply after saying this. They seemed to find it difficult to speak at length. Somehow, they suddenly looked like a powerless old person, so I stopped pressing them.

“The one once called God no longer exists in the world. They have no power or will left. They have become less than the fragments of a dead star floating out there.”

“Then what are you?”

They looked at me as they put down their teacup again. Their expression seemed to ask what I thought they were.

“Once, I thought I was God. Because I existed outside of time and space. I am a being without birth, and also without end. Even when you all died and returned for the first time, I was watching from outside.”

The ‘ordinary person’ drew a circle in the air. The circle had neither beginning nor end.

“But…”

They looked at me. At that somewhat meaningful expression, I frowned.

“It’s ironic. I just realized that I too have a role. That’s when I learned. I am not God, but merely a pen used by someone who writes stories.”

“Stories?”

“Just as the world known to you as ‘I Won’t Return’ has taken the form of a story, this world too is made up of a collection of countless stories.”

The ‘ordinary person’ showed me the faces of people I knew.

“Daphne, Marianne, George, Agnes, Quenore, Karin, Aryen, Isis, Andre… and countless other people’s stories.”

And what appeared in the air were the faces of other people. People from the royal capital, warriors from the north, refugees from Barktins, believers from the Holy Kingdom. And countless faces of unnamed others.

“The being that converges all their stories is the ‘evil god.’ They are beings who repeatedly close the world and start anew. Perhaps they are another will of the one who uses me as a tool.”

The ‘ordinary person’ looked up at the sky. It was a look as if someone was watching them. Then they turned their gaze back to us.

“…If the role of the ‘evil god’ was convergence, then your role—the ‘heroes’—is divergence. You are beings who stop the story heading toward the conclusion of the end, and lead it to a world of infinite endings.”

The ‘ordinary person’ then pointed to themselves.

“And I am a being who creates passages for that story to lead to countless other stories.”

The ‘ordinary person’ said this and waved their hand. In the corner of the white room, a white door appeared. Isha and I turned our heads simultaneously to look at the door.

“If you open that door and go out, your ‘story’ will extend into an area I cannot observe. Beyond that door, you might live happily, or be worshipped as gods by people, or wander the world leisurely, forgotten by everyone.”

The ‘ordinary person’ said this with a smile.

“And I will finally be able to rest, free from the realm of the observer. You are granting rest to me, who has nothing left.”

We were suddenly standing in front of the door. The ‘ordinary person’ placed their hands on our shoulders.

“Live. Break free from one story and live in your own world. That is my request.”

They reached out and grabbed the doorknob. At that moment, Isha, who had been silent, turned to the ‘ordinary person’ holding the doorknob.

“…What should I call you? Father? Mother?”

The ‘ordinary person’ opened their eyes wide, then burst into laughter.

“Isha. I’m truly grateful that you think of me that way, but I don’t deserve to be called that. Well, if you must call me something…”

The ‘ordinary person’ closed their eyes gently.

“Call me ‘Narrator.'”

The ‘Narrator’ said.

“I exist between you all. Between quotation marks and quotation marks. I am the paragraph between dialogues, the brick, the eyes that see the world.”

The ‘Narrator’ stroked Isha’s head with a benevolent hand. Tears welled up in Isha’s eyes. I quietly watched Isha.

“…Thank you for bringing me into this world.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

The ‘Narrator’ smiled like a parent.

“Now live, Isha. Live a truly meaningful life. A normal and beautiful life, without the obligations of the story.”

Then, the ‘Narrator’ looked at me.

“Well then, are you ready to raise the curtain on these countless stories, hero?”

I nodded. The Narrator turned the doorknob and opened the door.

“Walk through. Now, the story outside is yours to tell.”

I firmly held Isha’s hand. I could feel the warmth from her hand in mine. We looked at each other for a moment, and without anyone needing to go first, we stepped outside.

And warm sunlight poured down upon us.