Project GB is an official initiative by Re:Library.

Human beings. The growth potential of humans had always been fascinating to watch. Perhaps that was why the gods rejoiced when humans, or any similar intelligent lifeforms, were born into a world. It depended on how that world was formed.

Sometimes humans were placed there from the very beginning; other times, they emerged through evolution. There were even beings that had evolved beyond humanity. Well, it got confusing, since the term human was just my Finis’ name for them. When I lived as Toriyama in the past, the species we called humans could also be seen as something that had evolved from humanity.

Even though they looked similar, they had developed the potential to slay enormous monsters with a single sword or wield magic that granted them eternal life, both forms of evolution. In a so-called world of sword and magic, some humans evolved in a physical direction, others in a magical one. Even if they looked the same, evolution was still evolution.

And so, I came to this world, one quite similar to the one where I once lived as a human, yet more evolved. The physical strength of its people wasn’t much different from that of my old world, but their imagination and science had become far more dangerous. Cars flying through the air, people teleporting when in a hurry, nature existed only where it was artificially maintained, and if one wished, they could spend their entire life comfortably in bed. And yet, things like magic or sorcery, at least publicly, did not exist here.

But this world was sustained by magic. It was a strange, foundational kind of world.

“Peaceful… isn’t it?”
“It’s rare to see you make that face, Lullus.”

Science and diversity had advanced so far that people had become colorful, so even Lullus didn’t stand out here. That’s why I’d brought both Fumitsuki and Lullus along. Lullus, wearing a slightly discontent expression, quietly commented on the world’s peace.

“Most post-apocalyptic worlds are chaotic, but I suppose there are peaceful ones too.”
“That’s not it, Fini,”

Fumitsuki said, her schoolgirl appearance seemed oddly out of place. Well, I understood what she meant. This world was… interesting.

“This world has parallel universes.”
“There’ve been worlds like that before, but this one feels… different, somehow,” Fumitsuki replied.
“I can tell that each parallel world is being discarded, one by one. Even so, there’s something off about it.”

Lullus added. The two were about equal in ability, so it made sense they’d reach the same doubts, or perhaps that was as far as their perception could go. It was a little unsatisfying, considering they were my direct subordinates, both counted among the higher gods, and yet they could only sense a vague discomfort. A lesser god would probably just think: “This world shouldn’t exist, and yet, somehow, it does.”

The fact that these two could at least feel the problem with the magic here put them a step above the rest.

We decided to enter a café to talk properly. In this world, the cheapest items on the menu were free, which, given the standard here, meant they tasted ordinary by local standards but would be fit for nobility in most other worlds.

There was a reason such a thing was possible, one that could be explained by this world’s history, but what mattered was that this was a world friendly to the god of endings. Few people actually ordered from the free menu, but if you smiled and said, “Sometimes I just crave this flavor,” the staff would smile back and say, “I know, right?” and happily serve it. In this case, we ordered coffee, though simple sandwiches were also free.

I took three ceramic-like cups, unbreakable even if thrown at a wall, and headed for a six-seat terrace table shaded by a parasol. I sat at one end, with the two of them seated across from me. When I glanced toward the street, I saw two children facing each other, toy swords in hand. They were cheap plastic ones, something that’d barely sting if swung by a child.

But as they raised their swords, one crackled with electricity, and the other ignited in swirling flames. Then, with cheerful cries of “Ready—go!”, both swung down, and beams of their respective elements shot out. They collided and vanished in a brilliant explosion.

It should have been a flashy sight, yet the people around didn’t even flinch. Some even smiled warmly at the children. The town remained completely unscathed, even at the blast’s center, and in the distance, similar explosions could be seen.

A naive observer might think, “Oh, it’s just for show, not actually powerful.” But a naive observer…

“Fini, why are you sitting perfectly still with your eyes closed?”

Fumitsuki asked, and I opened my eyes as if nothing had happened.

“How did that look to you?”
“Didn’t make much sense, honestly,” she said.
“And you, Lullus?”
“I can tell it wasn’t just for show, but… I can’t understand why there was no collateral damage.”

So they were not total amateurs, at least. Still, delving into that would sidetrack us, so I stored the thought away and returned to the topic, not forgetting to take a stylish sip of coffee. A proper pastime for the god of endings.

“First, the basics. This world contains countless parallel worlds, but the core is this one. As long as this central world remains, even if the others perish, it’s not yet my turn to act.”
“We get that.”
“But I can feel that this world itself won’t last much longer,” Lullus said.
“That’s right. Since you already understand that much, I’ll explain the rest.”

I glanced at the empty chair across from me. It had been pulled out slightly, enough for someone to sit there. Maybe the server had forgotten to push it back.

“The science of this world is dangerously advanced on a global scale. To put it simply, a single nation here could defeat the World Eater.”
“That’s… incredible,” Fumitsuki muttered.
“So the science of this world could literally erase a world?” Lullus asked.
“Exactly.”

When we said erase, we meant literal annihilation, not just extinction of life on the surface, but complete, instantaneous dissolution of the world itself.

“In fact, dozens of worlds have already vanished.”
“They sacrificed the parallel worlds.”

Lullus deduced sharply.

“Right. At first, the destruction wasn’t so extreme, but over time it grew worse. Because the parallel worlds took the damage instead, the harm wasn’t immediately visible. The world appears peaceful now, but in the past, wars were constant,
and many weapons were created without the slightest regard for ethics.”
“But that alone shouldn’t cause the world to collapse, right?” Fumitsuki asked.
“Of course not.”

That part of the story concerned the protective mechanisms that once guarded this world. As long as they functioned, the destruction would never reach the core. The parallel worlds would take the blows instead. Even excessive energy consumption was buffered by those worlds.

But that was in the past. Now, all that remained was a thin façade maintained by the parallel layers.

“At some point, the system protecting the core world was rewritten. The world we’re in right now is like a parallel layer laid over the surface of the true core. So what happens to the destruction that occurs here?”
“It flows down into the core world…?”
“Exactly. Which is why the collapse is approaching.”

Even that earlier harmless explosion undoubtedly damaged the world itself.

“So if people here actually went to war now…”
“The world would vanish instantly. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, since this new system took over, no major conflicts have occurred. But now everyone attacks the world itself as if it were a game.”

They likely had no idea what they were doing, and that ignorance made it all the worse. It was science, yes, but when people could wield power akin to grand magic with ease, they would use it for fun, dazzled by the spectacle. If children’s play produced explosions like those, imagine what happened in the movies for adults.

“I think you understand what’s happening in this world now. Any questions?”
“I suppose the big one is, who created this structure?”
“Good question. You see, the core world supposedly contains no magic. The concept exists, but all true magic should have branched off into the parallel worlds.”
“And no god interfered with it?”
“Exactly. The creation of parallel worlds themselves might have been part of divine design, perhaps even the idea that they’d protect the core world, but no more than that.”

In truth, the birth of the parallel worlds was probably the limit of the gods’ plan.

“And with that, the one who built this system, the magician of this world, may as well join us.”

I turned my gaze back to the empty chair I’d looked at earlier. This time, someone was sitting there, a girl in her late teens, who hadn’t been there before. Her reflection seemed to sit opposite her, the two identical faces mirroring each other. Though they looked the same, their auras differed. One was sharp and strong-willed, the other gentle. And the body of the strong-willed one… was a little unusual. The twin magicians had revealed themselves.

The stronger one sighed and spoke, resigned.

“So, you noticed.”
“I did. That’s why I chose a table for six.”