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Impatience ruins everything.

True patience is a virtue.

Just like a dagger hidden in your pocket will eventually spring forth, treasure strives to shine and mesmerize people by itself. That is the nature and characteristic of metal.

If you observe steadily, you won’t miss the moment when that light spills out; take it as a clue, and you may be able to reach it.

Of course, not everything is free from variables.

The American government is one example, as is the Machine Cult, alongside countless lunatics and groups that could appear in America.

And also the Shaman who deceived him.

That Shaman, who used some sort of magic unknown to him, could also be a significant variable.

Yet, Park Jinseong waits.

They have recognized each other.

If that Shaman moves towards Lucas as a target, Park Jinseong will not miss those traces.

If he finds that Shaman, that would be a gain.

No, perhaps it would be even a greater gain than immortality.

A variable and a treasure he was unaware of before the rewind.

The mysterious recluse who may possess magic he doesn’t know.

To have contact with him holds far greater value than that measly immortality.

So… yes.

If a variable were to appear, it should ideally be related to that Shaman.

That would indeed be splendid.

With such thoughts, Park Jinseong smiled.

* * *

Variables.

A simple but truly frightening word.

Just as the flutter of a butterfly’s wings can turn into a storm, causality is infinitely mysterious and unpredictable. Thus, prophecy exists in the space between certainty and uncertainty, always mutable and capable of changing at any moment.

“Ah. Ah. Ah.”

But for those living amidst such chillingly terrifying variables, it is both everyday life and simultaneously a hellish suffering.

Prophecy is experiencing life while skipping between moments in time.

Living in a time made of points and curves, instead of lines.

Existing in a timeline different from ordinary people.

That is why it is inevitable for the cursed special ability to drive one insane.

Prophet.

Among special abilities, it is alien yet sought after by many.

One who possesses that ability was skipping through time and experiencing.

What he is seeing is the future.

An experience that can only be seen because it is certain.

But simultaneously a simulation that remains uncertain.

That dreamlike thing which can change at any moment with a tiny variable intervening.

But at the same time, it is an ‘experience’ that is so vivid compared to a dream.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The long bayonet attached to the assault rifle.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Soldiers in military boots move with precision.

As if they were one body, they lift their legs high while marching, wielding the glinting silver bayonets to showcase their might.

The red berets they wear look soaked in blood, while their gray uniforms blend into the city’s scenery, proclaiming that they have become part of its landscape, its everyday life.

And there in the distance, one building.

On the third floor of a place that used to serve as a government building, a man stands.

Like the marching soldiers, he wears a red beret.

With a stern expression, the old man gazes at the marchers.

He watches the supporters waving flags with his blue eyes, capturing the expressions of citizens filled with fear and awe as they glance at the soldiers.

Thud thud thud thud.

Reflected in his eyes is a steel army.

Sky-colored fighter jets move, leaving trails in the clouds.

Colored smoke spreads, drawing their flag across the sky.

Valiant soldiers and special forces symbolize their strength.

Thud thud thud.

The land battleships following them represent their grandeur.

Oh.

A giant steel mountain raging across the ground.

Tanks that showcase their size, comparable to their battleships occupying the seas.

A pride that boasts thousands of tons!

Powered by nuclear energy, moving like an invincible stronghold, they enter the city. Crew members atop the colossal fortress wave flags announcing their victory, while the fortress’s main cannon goes boom—boom—letting out a tremendous sound as it fires celebratory shots.

The nuclear missiles prominently displayed cow citizens into submission, and the mechanical legs sprawling out like a spider’s legs signal that they are ready to root firmly into the ground and become towers that can surveil them, turning into a governor’s facility to manage them.

Behold.

This magnificent machine.

The power that avenges past defeats and achieves revenge.

In the sky is the azure of freedom.

In the sea is the white of equality.

On the land is the red of brotherhood.

They have triumphed.

They have finally won.

“Vive la France!”

“Vive la France!”

Long live France.

Long live the great France.

The dominant power in Europe.

A new order.

The great country that will lead Europe.

Long live France!

Long live France!

Blue, white, red.

The flag made of three colors flutters.

Just like the revenge taken by the ethnic group that once thrived on this land.

They flaunt their flag as if mocking the nation that has now become part of France.

And mockingly, they shout.

“Es lebe ein großes Volk!”

“Es lebe ein großes Volk!”

“Es lebe ein großes Volk!”

Long live the great nation.

Long live the great nation!

Just like de Gaulle’s speech in West Germany during World War II.

But omitting the praises of Germany and the French-German alliance.

They shout, mocking the conquered ones.

Long live the great nation.

Giving back what the citizens claimed during the second world war.

They shout.

Great.

France.

Long live.

Hahahahahaha!

“Ugh. Ugh. Ugh….”

And while witnessing such a parade, he remains in the mansion.

Groaning, he stares intently.

Even in a sealed room.

The only way he can see the march is through the TV, yet he vividly feels the spectacle. With a body that has turned translucent, revealing the back, he watches. Watches it.

“Ugh….”

And his other body groans.

A body so emaciated it appears skeletal.

Hollow cheeks that are deeply sunken.

Yet strangely, despite being so gaunt, he feels an incomprehensible strength.

He watches as France proclaims victory.

However, that’s only through his spirit, not his body.

His living body remains helplessly paralyzed as if pinned down in a nightmare, only able to groan.

Despite watching the march with his eyes, he oddly does not feel the grand reality.

The deafening cheers, engine roars, cannon blasts, and the sounds of fighter jets.

The gloomy faces watching them or the German citizens choking back tears in the alleys.

The victorious general who has successfully invaded and finally occupied Germany.

Vivid but existing in a surreal state, like watching VR footage, he exists.

And beside him stands a girl.

[Wow. Scary, right, Will?]

The girl, linking arms with the spirit man, asks him with a bright face.

A beautiful girl in a wedding dress.

With a translucent spirit body like the man, she calls for her partner.

William.

Her husband.

The one she vowed eternity to at their wedding.

The miraculous partner who has finally kept the covenant in front of Barakiel after a long wait.

She, Beatrice Mary Marriott, gazes at her husband, William R. Artua.

[Will? What’s wrong?]

[…Yeah. It’s scary.]

[Don’t worry. No matter how frightening this is or what trials we face, we are together.]

Forever.

The cold air escapes her lips, resembling a breath of the living.

But it lacks the warmth that living beings exhale.

The peculiar chill of the dead.

A negative force that harms the living, causing them despair until their demise.

Yet, blessed by the shaman, this chill cannot harm William, encircling him once before vanishing, entwined with Beatrice’s obsession.

As if a snake wraps around and disappears.

Or as if he is reawakening to the sensation of iron chains tightly binding his body.

William locked eyes with Beatrice who was looking at him.

[…Yeah.]

The tightly grasped arm.

The embarrassing disparity in spiritual power prevented William from even attempting to loosen that grip.

How far into the future is this scene?

Is it near or far?

Neither the distance nor the time is known, but…

Ah.

William thinks within the warped time he experiences through prophecy.

That in the future, he continues living with Beatrice.

And as the holy sorcerer said, they would ‘forever’ love one another.

Like the covenant made before Barakiel, they will exist as a couple for eternity.

William smiles at such thoughts.

Then closes his eyes.

“…Ha. Hahaha.”

He returns to reality.

“Hahahaha.”

Reality?

Reality…?

The future is reality, and now is reality.

Does time really hold meaning?

If he exists in the future and also here…

Does time truly have any significance?

The present is.

The future is.

Time is….

[Did you have a nightmare?]

Ah. I feel the chill.

The beautiful girl in a flowing wedding dress, Beatrice, gently embraces him.

Then whispers in his ear.

[Honey.]

“Hahaha.”

In that embrace, in that coldness, in the now-familiar sensation of touch.

William laughed.

“Haha….”

He laughed.

 

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