"——Continue."
There was no flicker of emotion in Annan’s eyes.
If one thought that such a thing could move him, that was far too naïve.
He had already made up his mind to kill Denton, nothing could make Annan reconsider that decision.
It was only a choice between death and pain... Isn’t that what life is essentially about?
Denton still had not appeared.
The scene before Annan shifted once more.
This ti there were no cries from the portraits; the world changed quietly.
When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in an extrely dim world, akin to a giant penholder — below were densely packed heads while above was the only source of light.
He himself was clutching a very thin rope, climbing upwards.
The rope seed almost at its breaking point, incredibly taut.
Annan felt as though he was realizing sothing.
He looked down to see many others clutching the sa slender rope beneath him.
Countless people were like the tiny, black figures from Conan — indistinguishable in age or gender, only densely packed heads were visible below, like ants lined up in a row, following a trail of honey.
At first, Annan did not realize what was happening.
But after looking down and seeing this all too familiar scene, Annan understood in the blink of an eye.
Is this... "The Spider’s Thread" by Ryunosuke Akutagawa?
"...I see."
Annan had grasped the basic rule of the Fragnt of Fear.
In the mont of falling into a deep nightmare, he had realized the true nature of this fear.
——It was either the despair of a savior or pioneer "over the ignorance of commoners" or the despair of "failing just one step away from the goal."
Denton simply wanted to see Annan’s outrage when he would angrily snap at the spider’s thread... or he wanted to witness the despair when the thread would suddenly break just as Annan reached the zenith.
"Heh..."
Annan suddenly laughed out loud.
He yelled down with a tug at his throat, "Watch out below!
"If you keep climbing up, this spider’s thread will break!"
After issuing the warning, Annan paid no further heed to the people following below.
He continued to focus on climbing up.
Even though the nightmare took the form of a spider’s thread, Annan was not Gandhāra.
He would naturally give the people below a chance... but this was not out of compassion or pity, it was rely about "fairness."
They certainly had the right to climb upward.
As long as they weren’t intentionally climbing down or obstructing others’ paths... advancing towards a brighter place, Annan had no desire to prevent them from doing so.
——Even if such a gathering would ultimately lead to inevitable destruction.
Annan did not command them to give up on survival or to delay their survival instincts.
Understanding what you should do, what you must do, and what you can do... is an extrely important skill.
These people were not his subordinates, nor his servants; Annan was not their savior, nor their guardian, much less their master.
Annan did not have to escape this hell... He did not harbor such a strong desire.
He was rely doing what ought to be done.
Because compared to downwards, upwards was slightly better.
So he should climb upwards — that’s all.
If Annan fell along with them, then that too would be the result of their choices, their inevitable fate.
Annan would be content to see others bear the consequences of their blind folly... or rather, their retribution.
But he would never actively interfere.
For he should not beco their retribution.
Annan looked up at the light, concentrating on climbing the spider’s thread.
As expected.
Just as Annan had originally assud, the spider’s thread snapped abruptly as he neared the top.
Many people plumted back into the abyss.
Annan was no exception.
"Ah, I’ve failed."
As he fell through the air, such a calm thought crossed Annan’s mind.
"...Can I get out of this fear now?"
But as Annan kept falling back into the abyss, his health did not decrease in the slightest.
He landed in a foul-slling pool of blood, and suddenly a thought erged in his mind:
——Now, one second has passed.
And in the next mont, the silver thread reconstituted itself.
"...Ah, I see."
Annan suddenly laughed out loud, "To fail only once every second... ’The fear of eternally repeating the sa failure,’ huh? Indeed, it’s a powerful move, one that might drive ordinary people into ntal breakdown."
"How strange, has sothing happened outside? You’re really going heavy on suddenly... Are you worried soone would rescue from this dream?"
Subrged in the stench-filled pool of blood, the corners of Annan’s mouth rose slightly.
Yet Annan’s voice was so indifferent.
"—Don’t entertain such pleasant thoughts, Denton.
"Don’t think that soone will co—it’s you who should."
He turned his head back and locked eyes with the "little blacks," sharply capturing the fear and loss in their gaze.
Was it here that they had experienced failure, over and over again?
The third ti, or the fifth?
It couldn’t have been more; their will had already started to dissipate. Any more and they would lose their minds.
So be it.
Let them endure Suffering.
Let them face failure.
Let them be utterly disheartened.
"—But as long as you can gather your spirits, and crawl with ..."
Annan slowly extended his hand, grasped the exceedingly fragile spider silk, and shouted loudly, "Then let’s go together!"
And so, the second fall ensued.
Then ca the third.
The fifth.
The tenth.
The number of people following Annan in the climb dwindled... By the twelfth ti, only Annan was crawling alone.
But in the end, Annan would still fall just one step short.
But unlike those who looked up to Annan... no matter how many tis he failed, he would climb up again—
This was not a result of the reversing winter’s heart.
It was a trait Annan possessed even before the crossing.
—Unnoticed, a full minute had passed.
It wasn’t Annan’s own mistakes that led to his failure.
It was due to the errors of others, unprovoked suffering... or perhaps because of—so-called[Fate].
Had it been an ordinary person, they might have already been beside themselves with frustration.
"How nice..."
Annan muttered.
His pupils shone ever brighter.
Having lived such a smooth-sailing life for the past few months...
Annan had almost forgotten the feeling of restraining oneself.
He used to never stay in bed after waking up, didn’t smoke or drink. He never overate and never slacked off at work. He wouldn’t play with his phone after going to bed, and he stopped eating three hours before sleep.
Living such a disciplined life—not only because of that precious rationality.
Another part of the reason might have been that Annan enjoyed the sense of Suffering that ca with "forcing constraints" upon himself.
—Just like a monk on a pilgrimage.
Asceticism is not easy in modern life, but in a world full of temptation, simply maintaining sanity and abstinence is already an ascetic practice.
But unexpectedly, just by living an ascetic life—forced learning, forced work... even forced video ga completion, it was only upon reflection that Annan realized he had beco an extraordinary person.
"In this respect, I should thank you... Denton."
By the hundredth fall, the light in Annan’s eyes sparkled even more.
Continue.
Fall.
Continue.
Fall.
—Continue.
A phrase Annan had seen thousands of tis in a ga surfaced in his mind—
"Humans..."
Annan whispered, once again gripping the rope tightly.
—Without wings, how do you ascend?
"Maybe it’s because I... am not quite normal."
Perhaps even Annan himself hadn’t noticed.
The corners of his mouth... bore a huge, radiant smile.
And his eyes, brighter than the stars.
"—Continue!"
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