Published: January 24, 2026
◇ ◇ ◇
...Why did it come to this?
Is it really my fault, just as Stig said...?
Because I sought out companions...
Because I joined the silver rabbits of the night sky, did everyone end up killed...?
――“Listen, Orun. Decisions made after hesitation always lead to regret. So, whether you join the silver rabbits of the night sky or not, you will eventually come to regret something in some form. That’s why it’s important to make choices that even the future you, who will regret them, can somewhat accept.”
Why... do I remember Grandpa’s words at a time like this...?
Is this the regret that awaited me after choosing to join the silver rabbits of the night sky...?
What the hell is that...?
Something like that――
◇
―Tsutolairu: Near the Silver Rabbit of the Night Sky Headquarters―
“Ahhhhhhh――!!”
As if responding to Orun’s anguished cry, an enormous surge of jet-black mana spiraled upwards, cracking the space around them in multiple places.
“...The world really can’t take any more of this. You’ve experienced enough despair, so it’s time for you to die.”
Eventually, Orun’s wailing ceased. He stared blankly into the void, as if his soul had been drained, his eyes reflecting nothing.
Still, the jet-black mana continued to rampage uncontrollably on its own, causing more and more fractures in the space.
Displeased with the current state, Stig approached Orun, who was staring lifelessly into the void at the center of the out-of-control mana.
He formed a hand blade by bringing his fingers together, concentrating his mana into it.
“A rather anticlimactic end. We had higher expectations for you,” Stig muttered in disappointment, then swung the mana blade at the unresponsive Orun.
“Then, goodbye.”
Just before the thin, sharp mana extending from the blade reached Orun’s neck, a figure suddenly appeared between them.
“――!?”
Realizing this, Stig was blown back by a shockwave.
His eyes wide with surprise, Stig flew back about ten meters, skidding along the ground to slow his momentum.
He immediately looked back to where he had just been.
Standing there was an elderly man with a long white beard—Cavadel Evans.
Cavadel pointed his staff, and numerous chains of pale blue, almost white, stretched from the void toward Stig.
The chains wrapped around Stig’s body, hindering his movement.
Next, cube-shaped boxes of the same pale blue appeared, trapping Stig inside.
Having neutralized Stig, Cavadel turned back.
Seeing Orun in his view, Cavadel’s eyes showed a sorrowful expression.
“Though necessary, I’m sorry for making you suffer, Orun... First, we need to do something about that mana of yours.”
Cavadel apologized and remotely operated the storage magical tool on Orun’s wrist.
Gradually, the jet-black mana rampaging around Orun was drawn into the storage tool, and the towering black pillar reaching toward the sky disappeared.
“...Grandpa...?”
Orun, who had shown no reaction for a while, finally noticed Cavadel’s presence.
“Long time no see, Orun.”
Cavadel approached, speaking gently, and lightly touched Orun’s right arm.
“That must hurt. I’ll heal it soon. Just hold on a little longer.”
Looking at the wound on Orun’s right arm—severed and bleeding heavily from Stig’s cut—Cavadel used his supernatural ability.
In an instant, Orun’s right hand was restored.
In exchange, Cavadel’s right arm vanished into the void.
“Hohoho. To think it would only cost my right arm.”
“...Wh—why...?”
Contrasting Orun’s bewildered voice, Cavadel laughed brightly.
“What a strange question. Orun, you know my ability is Equivalent Exchange, right? To restore the promising Orun’s dominant hand, it cost me my old right arm. A bargain, indeed.”
“I... didn’t want this. I have to die. Otherwise, more people will die. Because of me...”
Orun’s voice trembled.
“Grandpa taught me: ‘Decisions made after hesitation lead to regret,’ and ‘You should make choices that the future regretful you can accept.’ I should have thought more deeply about that!”