Chapter 319: Vanitas [11]
Seeds planted there, even if left unattended, could one day grow into magnificent trees.
A single seed did not need constant guidance to grow. It did not require its planter to stand beside it every day, ensuring every branch extended in the correct direction.
Given enough time, it would naturally adapt to its environment, sink its roots deeper, and reach toward the sky on its own.
Humanity was no different.
For centuries, Zen had treated itself as the gardener of civilization. Whenever a problem emerged, he stepped in. Whenever humanity stagnated, he pushed it forward.
Whenever disaster threatened progress, he positioned himself as the one responsible for correcting the course.
But perhaps that had been his mistake all along.
A gardener who constantly uprooted his plants to inspect their growth would only kill them.
A gardener who refused to let branches grow freely would never witness how far they could truly reach.
Growth required trust, patience, and most importantly, uncertainty. After all, the purpose of planting a seed was not to control the tree it would become, but to ensure that it had the opportunity to grow.
A tree would eventually produce its own branches. Those branches would bear fruit. The fruit would carry new seeds. And those seeds, scattered by the winds of time, would eventually grow into forests far beyond the imagination of the one who planted the first tree.
No single person could cultivate an entire forest. Not even Zen. But a single person could plant the first seed.
Perhaps that was what humanity truly excelled at.
Every generation inherited a seed in the form of an idea, a discovery, a technique, or a dream.
And rather than preserving it exactly as it was, they nurtured it, refined it, and allowed it to grow into something their predecessors could never have imagined.
That was why civilization advanced. That was why humanity survived.
Each generation stood atop the roots planted by those before them. And if enough generations continued climbing, then eventually, even the tallest tree would no longer seem unreachable.
The heavens themselves would become merely another destination.
A thought like that would have sounded arrogant once.
Yet as Zen looked back upon the countless cycles he had witnessed, he could not help but wonder.
Perhaps humanity’s greatest strength had never been adaptability or intelligence.
Perhaps humanity’s greatest strength was that every generation inherited a ladder built by the previous one.
And no matter how many times the ladder was broken, humanity always found a way to build it again, higher, longer, and eventually, closer to the sky.
Closer to the realm of gods.
Closer to the realm of monsters.
Closer... to the Alephs themselves.
But what of Zen?
Humanity continued advancing. His descendants continued growing stronger, and civilization continued climbing higher toward realms it was never meant to reach.
Yet despite all of that, Zen remained uncertain.
He was not confident he possessed the power to stand against those eyes.
Even after countless reincarnations, the memory of those gazes still lingered vividly within his mind. The moment Araxys had allowed him to witness them, he had understood something terrifying.
Those entities existed on an entirely different scale. A scale that even now remained difficult for him to comprehend.
And the worst part was that it was not only the Alephs.
Truthfully, Zen was not even certain he could stand against Araxys itself.
At least, not alone.
Perhaps if humanity stood beside him.
Perhaps if every bloodline, every kingdom, every empire, and every genius he had nurtured throughout the cycles united under a single banner, they might stand a chance.
But humanity lacked one thing.
Time.
That was the very reason Araxys continued repeating the cycle.
Every time civilization grew too much, every time humanity climbed too high, the reset would come. Everything would be destroyed, rebuilt, and forced to start again from the beginning.
Humanity would never be allowed enough time to truly reach its potential.
Which meant that in the end, Zen would be left standing alone.
"...."
The day of reckoning was approaching.
Araxys’s influence had spread farther than ever before. Its name was no longer hidden within forgotten corners of history. Entire movements had begun forming around its existence.
The signs were becoming impossible to ignore.
It would only be a matter of time before Araxys descended once more.
And when it did, everything Zen had painstakingly built throughout countless lifetimes would be swept away under the pretense of preservation.
"...What should I do, Saintess?"
Across from him sat the Saintess. The one person he trusted more than anyone else.
The one person who unknowingly carried the soul of Melissa.
The one person who, despite lacking the memories of their shared past, had somehow remained the closest thing Zen still had to an ally.
Should he continue preparing humanity?
Should he focus on defeating Fyodor?
Should he confront Araxys directly?
Or should he abandon everything and search for another path entirely?
For the first time in a very long while, Zen found himself lost.
And so he asked the only person whose answer still mattered to him.
"Tell me, Saintess... If you were me... what would you do?"
"That’s a difficult question." A faint smile appeared on her face. "Mostly because I’d never want to be you."
"...?’
The answer caught him off guard.
"That’s harsh."
The Saintess looked toward him. "I think if I had to live even a fraction of the lives you’ve lived, I’d lose my mind."
The smile remained on her face. The irony was jarring to Zen. Because Melissa, before deciding to forget everything, had also lost her mind.
"But I don’t think your problem is Araxys."
"What?"
"Ah, no. I think Araxys is a problem." She corrected herself. "A very large problem."
Then she pointed toward him.
"But I don’t think that’s your problem." The Saintess leaned back. "I think your problem is that you’re trying to become responsible for everything."
"...Someone has to be."
"Why?"
The question came so quickly that it caught him off guard. For a moment, he genuinely did not know how to respond.
"Because if I don’t, who will?"
The Saintess immediately smiled.
"There it is."
"What?"
"That answer." She shook her head. "You always say things like that."
Zen blinked. "Always?"
"Not you specifically." The Saintess laughed awkwardly. "It’s hard to explain."
Her hand slowly moved toward her chest.
"But sometimes I have these feelings."
The Saintess stared toward the horizon.
"Whenever people talk about saving the world, they always imagine themselves standing alone."
The wind continued blowing around them.
"They imagine everyone depending on them. They imagine that if they disappear, everything falls apart."
Then she smiled.
"And maybe that’s true for a little while."
The Saintess pointed toward the distant city.
Lights had already begun appearing throughout the streets below.
"But eventually, people move forward."
The city continued functioning.
Merchants continued selling goods. Children continued laughing. Families continued living their lives.
The world continued turning.
"Civilizations existed before you." The Saintess looked toward him. "They’ll exist after you, too."
Zen remained silent.
Because those words felt strangely familiar.
Almost as though he had heard them somewhere before.
"Do you know what I would do if I were you?" she asked.
Zen slowly shook his head. "No."
She smiled.
Then pointed toward the city below.
"I’d trust them."
The answer was so simple that it almost sounded ridiculous.
"I’d trust the people you’ve spent all this time protecting."
The Saintess looked toward the countless lights illuminating the evening.
"I’d trust your descendants."
Her smile widened.
"I’d trust your students."
Then she looked directly at him.
"And I’d trust humanity."
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
The sun continued setting.
The city lights continued growing brighter.
"Trusting humanity..."
The concept felt strangely foreign despite everything he had done for civilization. After all, he had spent countless lifetimes empowering humanity specifically because he needed allies standing beside him.
Every bloodline he nurtured, every technique he passed down, and every advancement he encouraged had ultimately been part of a greater plan.
He wanted humanity to become strong enough to fight.
Strong enough to survive.
Strong enough to stand beside him when the day of reckoning finally arrived.
But what the Saintess was suggesting was fundamentally different. She was not suggesting that he continue strengthening humanity, but rather that he trust it unconditionally without supervision or intervention.
Without constantly guiding them toward the future he believed was correct.
And that was something Zen had never truly done before.
Because trusting humanity meant letting go.
It meant accepting that the future might unfold differently than he intended. It meant accepting that people would make mistakes, choose paths he disagreed with, and arrive at conclusions he never anticipated.
Most importantly, it meant accepting that he was not required to carry everything himself.
The very thought sounded ridiculous.
No, not just ridiculous, but downright stupid.
Zen had spent countless cycles cleaning up humanity’s mistakes. He had witnessed civilizations collapse from greed, corruption, arrogance, and ignorance. He had personally watched empires burn because their leaders made decisions that any sane person would have recognized as disastrous.
And after witnessing all of that, how was he supposed to simply trust them?
"How exactly am I supposed to do that? Isn’t that irresponsible?"
His gaze remained fixed on the horizon.
"If I know a disaster is coming, shouldn’t I prepare for it?"
The Saintess listened in silence.
"If I know the Alephs exist, shouldn’t I prepare humanity to face them?"
The questions continued piling up.
"If I know Araxys is eventually going to descend again, shouldn’t I stop it?"
Because the more he thought about it, the less the Saintess’s advice made sense.
For centuries, he had acted because nobody else could.
For centuries, he had carried responsibilities that nobody else even knew existed.
And now she was telling him to trust humanity?
The idea felt absurd.
After all, wasn’t he humanity’s chosen one? Wasn’t he the individual who had repeatedly defied fate itself?
Wasn’t he the one who had challenged Araxys, created his own reincarnation cycle, and spent countless lifetimes pushing civilization forward?
If anyone had earned the right to decide humanity’s future, wouldn’t it be him?
But despite the dilemma plaguing his thoughts, unexpectedly, the Saintess laughed.
"What?"
"You really don’t hear yourself, do you?" The Saintess shook her head. "You sound exactly like every tyrant in history."
"Eh?"
The comparison immediately irritated him.
"I am not a tyrant."
"I know." The Saintess smiled. "That’s what makes it funny."
Her gaze slowly shifted toward the city below.
"The people who wanted power always knew they wanted power. The people who wanted control always knew they wanted control."
Then she looked directly at him.
"But the most dangerous people are the ones who genuinely believe they’re helping."
"...?"
"You keep asking whether humanity can stand without you." Her expression softened. "But have you ever stopped to ask whether humanity will ever learn to stand if you’re always there to catch it whenever it falls?"
"Ah..."
For a moment, Zen found himself unable to answer.
Perhaps he had spent so long protecting humanity that he had never given it the opportunity to truly prove itself.
"But the thing is—"
"The reincarnation cycle, right?" The Saintess smiled as she cut him off. "The solution is simple."
Simple was not a word he associated with any problem involving Araxys.
"...What?"
"Just forget about it."
"What?"
"Forget about it." The Saintess shrugged. "About everything."
The answer left him speechless. He had heard those words before.
Despite becoming a completely different person, Melissa had somehow arrived at the same conclusion.
Perhaps truths so fundamental that even after memory was erased, one would still arrive at the same destination.
"You know," the Saintess said quietly, "I think you’re afraid."
"Afraid?"
"Yes."
The Saintess nodded.
"I think you’re afraid that if you let go, you’ll realize the world never needed you as much as you thought."
"...."
Every reincarnation had been driven by the same objective.
But what happened if he stopped?
What happened if he truly trusted humanity?
What happened if he allowed himself to simply exist?
The question terrified him as he realized something.
He did not know who he was without the burden.
The reincarnation cycle had become his identity. The struggle had become his identity. The responsibility had become his identity.
Without them, who was Zen?
The Saintess watched him quietly.
"Maybe the world doesn’t need saving."
"...."
"Maybe it just needs a chance to save itself."
Zen instinctively wanted to argue. Yet strangely enough, the arguments never came.
Again and again, humanity found ways to survive circumstances that should have destroyed it.
"...."
The Saintess continued watching him. There was no judgment in her eyes.
"And the one who truly needs saving..."
Zen slowly turned his head as the Saintess continued.
"...Is you, Archmage."
Instinctively, Zen met her gaze. And that was when he noticed the exhaustion in her eyes.
The exhaustion of someone who had already accepted something inevitable.
"...."
Zen’s eyes narrowed. The Saintess continued smiling. Yet the more he looked at her, the more wrong that smile felt.
As though she had already come to terms with something he had not.
"Saintess... you... Have you seen the ending?"
The Saintess remained silent. The smile on her face did not disappear.
"...."
But that silence was answer enough.
The fragments of futures she occasionally witnessed. At some point, she had seen something. Something she had never told him. Something significant enough that she had spent this entire conversation trying to prepare him for it.
"Saintess—"
"Cough...!"
Blood spilled from her lips. The bright crimson liquid stained her hand as her body lurched forward unexpectedly.
"Saintess!"
Zen moved instantly. Before she could collapse, he caught her shoulders and supported her body.
More blood dripped onto her dress, more than there should have been.
Zen’s expression immediately darkened.
His mana surged through her body.
The moment he examined her condition, his face froze.
"...No."
The Saintess smiled weakly. "Looks like you noticed."
Zen’s hands trembled. There was nothing to heal.
"What did you see?!"
Zen grabbed her shoulders.
"What ending did you see?!"
The Saintess remained quiet for several moments.
Zen remained supporting the Saintess, desperately trying to stabilize her condition despite already knowing there was nothing left for him to heal.
Eventually, she raised her gaze toward the stars.
The same stars that had watched over countless civilizations.
The same stars that had watched him struggle throughout countless lifetimes.
"I saw a man."
"...."
"A very lonely man."
"...."
"That man... he spent countless lifetimes protecting his people."
"...."
"In the end... the people he spent so long protecting stood against him."
Zen’s eyes narrowed.
His grip around her shoulders tightened slightly.
"Humanity... it no longer needed him..."
The Saintess looked toward the city below. The countless lights stretching across the horizon reflected in her eyes.
Zen stared at her.
His mind struggled to process the image she was describing.
A humanity standing against its protector.
A humanity rebelling against the very person who had spent countless lives ensuring its survival.
"...I don’t understand what you’re saying."
"You must know the truth, Archmage..."
The Saintess’ voice had become noticeably weaker. Each word came slower than the last, as though even speaking required tremendous effort from her now.
"Saintess...?"
Once more, the Saintess slowly raised her hand.
———!
It was then.
The moment her hand touched him, something exploded within his mind.
——Oppa, Araxys is coming!
Melissa’s voice echoed through his consciousness. Before Zen could fully react, another vision immediately replaced it.
——Archmage!
——Save us!
The world shook.
Reality itself seemed to crack apart as visions flooded into his mind one after another. Entire civilizations screamed as destruction descended from the heavens.
———!
The world’s destruction.
Its inevitable cataclysm.
Araxys descended.
Entire continents fell under its shadow. Civilizations that had taken centuries to build vanished within moments.
———!
And in another, the Alephs descended.
The sight alone nearly shattered his sanity.
Those eyes.
Those impossible existences.
Those beings that should never have been perceived by mortal minds.
They had arrived.
Timelines that should not have existed flashed before him.
Endings that should not have existed flashed before him.
Entire histories unfolded and shattered within the span of a single second.
Then, amidst the chaos, another voice emerged.
A voice completely out of place.
A voice that did not belong within the destruction.
——Professor... see you tomorrow...
His eyes widened as a figure appeared amidst the endless sea of shattered timelines.
A silver-haired woman.
Somehow, despite never having met her before, Zen immediately felt that something about her existence was familiar.
"...Karina?"
