I Finished Saving the World, But Then I Picked Up a Girl With Amnesia - Chapter 22

No rules. Weapons allowed. The fight continues until one of the two falls.

Such was the absolute law of the blood- and desire-stained underground arena.

It wasn’t as though she wanted money. But well-funded martial arts tournaments naturally attracted strong individuals. The stronger the opponents she fought, the more it seemed to fill the emptiness in her heart.

Her opponent in the final round was a young boy.

She didn’t care about the other matches. She didn’t even bother to watch them because she could win without doing so. So, when she faced the boy in the ring, she wondered how someone like him had made it this far.

But the moment their match began, her initial doubt turned into a blaring alarm in her intuition.

From the very first move, she unleashed the most powerful strike she had. Then she followed up, blow after blow, striking relentlessly.

Why won’t this one fall?

Why does he stand back up so casually after taking my punches?

The boy’s strength was—if she had to describe it—unnatural. She could feel the effort and experience he had amassed. There was no doubt he had worked hard to build his strength. But it was chaotic, nonsensical, a kind of strength that defied logic. It was as if she was being gradually swallowed by a deep, bottomless darkness.

It was the first time she had felt this way.

She swung her fists desperately, giving it everything she had. To prove the worth of the techniques she had inherited from her master. To prove the strength passed down to her, she had to win.

But for the first time in her thousand years of life, Mumu Rusetta found herself flat on her back in the ring, unable to stand back up.

She had been defeated—utterly and completely.

The underground arena had no rules. Weapons were allowed. Victory was determined when one fighter could no longer stand.

In other words, the victor was free to decide what to do with the fallen opponent.

For the first time in her thousand years of life, she was struck by the fear that she might be killed by another human.

The sound of a sword being thrust into the ring. The click of boots drawing closer, like the scythe of the grim reaper.

Then, the victorious boy spoke.

“Thank you for the match. That was a good fight.”

A hand reached out to her, and Mumu Rusetta could only stare up at it in disbelief.

—

She flinched, expecting to be struck.

Judging by her tense demeanor, the red-haired girl thought she might be hit.

“Scared?”

But when she opened her eyes, Mumu’s expression was as unreadable as ever, though her gaze carried the faintest trace of curiosity.

“?”

“If I scared you, I apologize. I tend to tense up a bit when I use magic.”

Mumu’s small, slender fingers touched the little bird.

Though its breathing was faint and fragile, as if it might fade away at any moment, it continued—feeble, but steady. Birds don’t have facial expressions, but even so, it seemed just a little more at ease.

As if the bleeding and worsening injuries had stopped.

“What is this…?”

“My magic. I can stop the flow of time for myself and anything I touch.”

Mumu’s body doesn’t age because time itself has stopped for her being.

Her body is unchanging.

Her heart is unwavering.

But her fists—those alone are not immutable.

She continued to move forward, seeking new strength, building her skills moment by moment, second by second, through relentless evolution.

Within her unchanging body, only her fists continued to grow, shining ever brighter through tireless refinement.

It was a timeless, radiant gold, a pride that would never fade.

“Golden Heart, Diamond Will—Quon Dabaf.” Mumu Rusetta.

She was the greatest martial artist and magic user who had helped save the world.

But for now, fists weren’t needed.

Hands weren’t just for clenching into fists, as both her master and that boy had taught her.

“I’m stopping this bird’s bleeding.”

“Then… does that mean you can save it!?”

“No. I can’t.”

The faint hope she had ignited was extinguished with clear, unflinching words.

“I’m only stopping this bird’s time. I’m not healing it. Even if I were to stop every aspect of its being, its wounds wouldn’t change.”

“But if we take it to a doctor…!”

“From this point, treating and saving it is impossible. Even the Hero understood that.”

That idiot apprentice of hers always left her to handle difficult tasks like this, Mumu thought with an inner sigh.

This was a harsh choice to present to the girl.

Living things die. And because they die, decisions must be made.

“Let me ask you a question. What do you want to do for this bird?”

The red-haired girl quickly raised her head.

Hesitant, she reached out. The bird, whose injuries had stopped worsening and seemed less pained, lifted its beak as if happily responding to her touch.

Her refined lips pursed tightly.

“…Could you watch over it for just a little longer?”

“Understood.”

Mumu took the bird into her hands. The girl ran out of the tent.

The time Mumu spent feeling the tiny warmth of the little creature in her hands was shorter than she expected. She thought the girl might not return, but that concern proved unnecessary. About ten minutes later, the red-haired girl came back, holding something else in her hands.

“Flowers.”

“Yes.”

They were small, delicate flowers that only grew in the spring near this watering hole. The girl had spent the brief time weaving them into a neat, circular wreath.

“…For the bird.”

“I understand.”

Mumu stepped outside the tent and dug a small hole. She lined the bottom with the woven wreath and gently laid the bird’s body upon it.

Perhaps it was happy to have the girl who found it by its side once more. With a faint chirp, it made one last sound.

“Are you okay now?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sad?”

“…Yes. It’s strange, isn’t it? I just happened to find it earlier today and felt sorry for it on a whim…”

“It’s not strange. Tears for a living creature’s death are proof of a rich heart.”

Mumu leaned slightly against the girl’s taller shoulder.

To fill the void left by the warmth that was slipping away.

“I’m the same. A man once picked me up, purely out of sympathy.”

Ah, so that’s why.

Only now did Mumu realize why she felt so drawn to this girl.

“But because of that, I’m here now. Because of that, I met the Hero. I met you. Life is a series of such coincidences.”

Life is fleeting, fragile, and delicate.

It can vanish in an instant due to the smallest spark of chance. Even without such a spark, life eventually fades away.

“This bird was supposed to die alone in the wilderness. But the Hero and you came along.”

It was a twist of fate, a chance meeting born from countless events aligning naturally.

“Because of that, it could end its life, watched over by you, surrounded by flowers.”

Speaking as if singing, Mumu explained to the girl.

“Death is sad. It’s sad, but it’s natural… and we can make that end into something peaceful and happy.”

Mumu let go of the bird. The girl touched it gently.

The small body gradually grew colder, and soon, it stopped moving entirely.

The short life, which had struggled so hard to live, had quietly come to an end.

“Did you say goodbye?”

“…Yes.”

“I see. That’s good.”

“Mumu-san.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you so much…”

Her voice trembled.

Mumu thought she was forcing herself to hold it together.

“One more piece of advice from an old-timer.”

The girl’s hands, now empty of the bird, could finally do something else.

Mumu stretched up and gently patted the red-haired girl’s head.

“When you want to cry, it’s okay to cry.”

She rarely felt frustrated with her unchanging, small body anymore.

But in moments like this, Mumu couldn’t help but think how inconvenient it was. Comforting a sobbing child was far more challenging when her chest was so small.