Past Arc ⑥

Author "Guriedistodies! Your name's too long!"

Guriedistodies "!?!"

Author "So from now on, in the land's text, it's Gurie!"

Gurie "!?!"

Author "Actually, shorten it even more—how about just G!? Black, too!"

G "!!?!"

Since that incident, Gurie had begun observing Sariel through the use of her far-sight.

Dragons were supreme. All other races were equal in inferiority.

This had been taught since childhood. This had been believed without question.

Yet Sariel had overturned that convention with a single encounter.

A power surpassing any dragon on this planet.

A single scale shown—just that was enough. Gurie now questioned the long-held belief that dragons were the supreme race.

Had Gurie encountered a higher-tier dragon species equal to or surpassing Sariel, her perspective might have shifted.

But Gurie was born and raised on this planet. She had never left the planet, never ventured into the cosmos.

She had never encountered the superior dragons existing within that cosmos.

Thus, her understanding of dragonkind remained bounded by dragons present on the same world. Sariel surpassed those beings with ease.

That was why she questioned.

Was dragonkind truly the supreme existence?

Ordinary dragonkind rarely entertained such doubts.

Whether due to Gurie’s youth and flexible mind, or because she was slightly unusual, she harbored doubt.

Regardless, she questioned.

Yet, this did not mean she could so easily overturn beliefs she had long held.

That was precisely why Guriel chose to observe Salier, the one who had become the catalyst for doubt.

With a mix of apprehension and anticipation—perhaps one might come to understand that the Dragon is not, in fact, the supreme being—by observing Sariel.

By this point, doubt had already solidified into certainty within Gurye, yet admitting it rankled. She sought, at all costs, to find a flaw in Sariel’s argument—to reassure herself with the thought, “See, dragons were truly supreme all along.”

While averting eyes from the undeniable fact that no dragon in this world could match Sariel’s combat capability.

Thus began Sariel's observation.

Fortunately, Guriel had an abundance of time.

Dragons exist as entities fundamentally divergent from ordinary lifeforms.

There is no concept of lifespan. Meals and sleep require only a minimal amount, unlike ordinary beings.

Thus, the life of a dragon is remarkably calm.

Days without action are not uncommon.

It is sufficient to dedicate that idle time to observing Syriel.

Observation can continue for an entire day.

At first, what occupied Gurye’s mind was nothing but confusion.

The scale of Syriel’s actions was far too small.

For instance, traveling to a region plagued by epidemic disease, accompanied by a physician.

The way Syriel cared for patients—attentive, meticulous—would indeed appear as saintly from a human perspective.

Yet, as a god, eradicating the virus responsible for the epidemic through magic would be effortless.

Syriel does not do so.

Instead, Syriel entrusts the matter to the physician, allowing humans to resolve the problem through their own means.

Continuing the observation revealed such patterns—actions possible, yet deliberately not performed—repeatedly.

Gradually, a sense of irritation emerged.

Why go about it so circuitously?

If efficiency is the goal, countless better methods exist.

There are countless instances where invoking divine power alone would resolve the issue instantly—yet that is not done.

Syrilis’s inefficient actions appeared as hypocrisy to Gurye.

If one truly wished to save lives, divine power should be used without hesitation.

Yet Syrilis stubbornly refuses to use divine power.

A life was lost because of it.

The child Syrilis had tended to.

"Thank you, sister."

"No need for thanks. This is my duty."

"See you later."

"Yes, see you."

A casual exchange at the hospital’s exit.

The final conversation between Syrilis and the child.

When Syrilis visited the room the next day, the child had passed away.

It could have been saved.

Then why was it not saved?

Why do you wear such a sorrowful expression, despite not having saved it?

What was that faint smile, when you were thanked?

When first observing, Guriel had believed Salier to be an entirely soulless machine.

That was the lesson taught about angels.

Yet, as observation continued, the error became apparent.

Salier does appear to carry out charitable acts with mechanical precision.

Yet, at moments, a faint trace of something resembling emotion flickers.

Was it not joy?

When the child said thank you.

Was it not sorrow?

When the child breathed its last.

And yet, it treats those emotions as if they do not exist, moving mechanically to the next task.

To human eyes, Salier’s actions may appear excessive in their compassion.

In truth, the goddess is revered, and gratitude is offered.

The response is always the same.

"Thank you is unnecessary. This is my duty."

To human eyes, it may appear as humility.

To Gurye, it appears differently.

Like a hypocrite bowing under guilt.

Capable, yet choosing not to act.

Complaining about being unable to save, when they never tried.

If they are so distressed, why not act?—the frustration grows.

And as if to mask that distress, they mechanically proceed to the next task.

Does she understand?

Claiming duty, yet acting under emotional influence.

Pretending preservation of primordial life is the purpose, yet favoring humans in every act of salvation.

Each time Gurye sees Syriel's lack of self-awareness, the frustration intensifies.

At this point, Gurye too has forgotten the original objective.