Chapter 634: Shimazaki Setsuna's Shock! The Power of All Creation!
"Haaah~!!!"
In a cluttered apartment building, where manga drafts were stacked like unstable towers, a black-haired girl in simple white underwear stood up from her chair and stretched with a big yawn. Her spine cracked satisfyingly, a testament to the hours she had spent hunched over her desk.
"Today's manuscript is complete."
Finishing the manuscript truly brought a sense of relief. It was like shedding a heavy skin, leaving her lighter, freer. She carefully put away the manuscript of her manga, handling each page as if it were a fragile gem.
I pushed up my glasses and rubbed my eyes, feeling the dry sting of fatigue.
"Phew…"
I exhaled a mouthful of stale air, letting the tension seep out of my shoulders.
Shimazaki Setsuna never thought she would become a manga artist one day. A few years ago, her world had been a dark, suffocating place, filled with the venom of strangers online.
She still remembered how, two years ago, she almost committed suicide due to online public opinion. The words had been like knives, cutting deep into her psyche until she felt there was nothing left but pain.
Thanks to Unheard Flower Name's encouragement, she managed to persevere through that storm of public opinion. His words had been a lifeline, a beacon in the darkness that guided her back to shore.
He was not only her savior, but also her mentor in manga. His work spoke to her, resonated with her soul in a way nothing else ever had.
If it weren't for Unheard Flower Name (Anohana), I probably wouldn't have become a manga artist. I might not even be here at all.
With a nostalgic feeling, Shimazaki Setsuna reached for the bookshelf on her desk. It was her sanctuary, a collection of worlds she could escape into whenever reality became too much.
It was filled with books. All of them were Unheard Flower Name's light novels and manga. She read them every day in her spare time, finding solace and inspiration in his stories.
She had read through these books countless times, back and forth, and knew their plots by heart. Yet, every time she opened one, it felt like visiting an old friend.
"I'll read this one today."
Her favorite one. We Still Don't Know the Name of the Flower We Saw That Day, abbreviated as "Unheard Flower Name," the same as Unheard Flower Name's pen name.
It was just placed a bit high, perched precariously on the top shelf.
She hooked it down with her fingertips, straining slightly. She didn't hold it steady, and it fell, tumbling through the air like a wounded bird.
Her first thought wasn't to dodge, but to catch the book. It was precious, irreplaceable.
But a hand caught the book before it could hit her head. A hand that appeared out of nowhere, swift and sure.
"Hmm?"
Shimazaki Setsuna, seeing this through her glasses, quickly turned her head. Her heart skipped a beat.
Because she lived alone in her rented apartment; there were no family members, only her! The silence of her apartment was suddenly shattered by the presence of another.
Turning around, she saw that the one who caught the book was a strange man. He stood there, holding her book, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Although the other person looked very handsome, Shimazaki Setsuna's guard was already fully raised. Panic surged through her veins, cold and sharp.
Her hand, behind her back against the table, had already quietly reached for her phone. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the emergency dial.
Yet, she tried her best to sound calm, fearing to anger the man, and asked, "Who are you? Why are you in my home?" Her voice shook slightly, betraying her fear.
The man glanced at the book title, a thoughtful expression on his face. He seemed completely unbothered by her panic, as if he belonged there.
"Sigh," he sighed, "You said you came to see her, but now you're getting cold feet, causing me to be misunderstood here. Do you think this is fair?"
"..."
This action, on the contrary, made Shimazaki Setsuna even more vigilant. He was talking to someone else? Or to himself?
Because he was clearly not talking to her. His gaze was directed at the empty air beside him.
It looked like a madman talking to himself in the air. A chill ran down her spine.
If it were just a burglar who broke into her home, whether for money or lust, there would still be room for maneuver. She could scream, run, fight.
But if it were a lunatic or a madman… it would be impossible to know what the other party was thinking, and communication would be difficult. Unpredictability was the most dangerous weapon.
The man glanced at her hand holding the phone and said helplessly, "If you don't come out, I'm going to be reported to the police."
"!!!"
Shimazaki Setsuna panicked. She was discovered! Her thumb hovered over the call button, indecision paralyzing her.
However, before she could immediately call the police or explain, the air in front of her suddenly twisted and became illusory. It shimmered like heat haze, warping the familiar lines of her room.
Immediately after, a woman dressed in peculiar clothing walked out of it. She stepped into reality as if passing through a curtain.
"This is…"
Before she could even think about how this person appeared, Shimazaki Setsuna's gaze was drawn to the woman's attire. It was unmistakable.
That familiar outfit… it was the clothing of Altair, the fan-created character she had designed. The military uniform, the saber, the distinct style—it was all there.
And her hair and overall appearance. The silver twin tails, the heterochromatic eyes.
The resemblance to Altair was over ninety-nine percent! It was like looking at her own drawing come to life.
These similar terms involuntarily came to mind. Hallucination? Dream? Or something else entirely?
Although she was happy that someone liked Altair enough to cosplay her so perfectly, such an unexplained intrusion into someone else's home was somewhat terrifying.
She still didn't know that the person standing in front of her was Altair herself.
"Setsuna…"
Altair gazed at Shimazaki Setsuna's face with a complex expression. There was longing, sadness, and a deep, abiding affection in her eyes.
Her creator was right in front of her, yet for a moment, she didn't know how to communicate with her. The words caught in her throat, heavy with unsaid emotions.
Seeing one of them lost in fearful thoughts and the other speechless like a social phobic, Ren couldn't stand it anymore. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.
He clapped his hands, breaking the strange atmosphere. The sharp sound echoed in the small apartment, snapping both women out of their trance.
Then he said, "Shimazaki Setsuna, let me introduce myself. My name is Ren, and I am the author of the book you are reading, with the pen name Unheard Flower Name."
"Eh?"
Shimazaki Setsuna was stunned for a moment. Her savior? The person she admired most? Standing right here in her apartment?
Ren then pointed to Altair.
"This is Altair. I'm sure you're already very familiar with her. She is the real Altair. You can understand her as someone who walked out of the work you created."
"Ah?"
Shimazaki Setsuna was stunned for a second time. Her brain struggled to process the information. Her creation? Real?
She probably wouldn't believe it if he said it like that. It sounded like the plot of a fantasy novel, not reality.
So Ren gestured to Altair, "Show her something, prove to her that your existence is real."
"..."
Altair didn't want to be a clown performing for others. She was a creation of war and sorrow, not a circus act.
But the person opposite her was Setsuna. Her creator. Her god.
So she raised her hand and used the power of All Creation—Holopsicon.
All Creation was the power she gained from the settings that were recognized and accepted by existing cognition. It was the power of imagination made manifest.
The power of all things, the flow of all things, the power of true world reincarnation. It surged through her, a torrent of limitless potential.
Creating something from nothing. It defied the laws of physics, bending reality to her will.
Creating and altering existing realities and correctly inheriting the causality of rules. It was the power of a god within a mortal frame.
Gaining infinite abilities. Every story, every fan creation, every thought about her added to her strength.
Even ignoring physical rules. Gravity, time, space—they were mere suggestions to her.
Tampering with logic, laws, reality, concepts, and so on. She could rewrite the very fabric of existence.
But this ability required reality as a medium. It needed the anchor of the real world to function.
All Creation was the power to create everything from nothingness. A spark in the void.
Creating something from nothing. A miracle.
Giving birth to everything from nothingness. A genesis.
Thereby changing causality and gaining infinite possibilities. The past, present, and future were hers to mold.
Thereby changing settings and acquiring various abilities, collectively referred to as "All Creation." The ultimate cheat code.
But its essence could not transcend the existence of the world itself. She was bound to the story, even as she rewrote it.
It was a peculiar power, but its upper limit was closely linked to reality. The more people believed in her, the stronger she became.
As she activated her power, military knives appeared out of nowhere. They materialized in the air, glinting dangerously in the apartment's dim light.
And they replicated and expanded from one to dozens. A swarm of steel, hovering obediently around her.
The military knives rotated regularly around her under her control. A deadly halo of blades.
"!!!"
This supernatural scene left Shimazaki Setsuna dumbfounded. Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide with disbelief.
"You see, supernatural power. And I came without you noticing at all. Why not believe that she is Altair herself?"
Ren said at the opportune moment. His voice was calm, persuasive.
If she still didn't believe, he had a simpler method. He could force the truth into her mind, but he preferred not to be so invasive.
Such as transmitting everything about Altair into her brain. A direct download of reality.
"I believe it!!!"
But unexpectedly, Shimazaki Setsuna's eyes lit up as she shouted, "I believe you are Altair!"
She really believed it. There was no doubt in her voice, only pure, unadulterated joy.
Her curiosity and excitement, the way she looked and felt as if she wanted to immediately hug Altair, did not seem fake. It was the look of a creator reunited with her masterpiece.
Being so simple also saved time for explanation. It was refreshing to deal with someone who accepted the extraordinary so easily.
However…
"Cough, anyway, it's your business. You're just accompanying him. But shouldn't you put on some clothes before talking?"
Ren hinted, gesturing vaguely at her attire.
It was only then that Shimazaki Setsuna realized she was only wearing underwear. A simple white set, practical and unadorned, but decidedly not suitable for receiving guests.
"Eh!!!"
Her face flushed a deep crimson, and she let out a shriek of pure embarrassment, scrambling to cover herself with the nearest blanket.
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