Reincarnated as the Weakest Magical Beast-Chapter 121: A replica

"A-acktually!" Claire suddenly raised a finger, correcting Amaras. "A Noctifelis from another world!"

For some reasons, she even tried to joke a bit to lift the mood.

But Amaras barely reacted.

"Yes, yes, from another world," she muttered flatly, before lifting the cola can to her lips again. Then, she turned her head toward the window, her crimson eyes reflecting nothing but a distant haze. "In any case, I told you already. I am no longer a threat. You may ignore me and continue your life. I wish you and your master good luck."

Her voice then grew quieter.

"It is not as though anything I do carries meaning anymore."

"What…?"

Hearing that, Claire felt something tighten in her chest.

Watching Amaras like this—slouched against the couch, gaze empty, voice stripped of its edge—stirred memories she had long tried to bury.

It reminded her of herself.

Of the girl she had been years ago, at the darkest point of her life, which was around the time her father died.

Back then, the days had blurred together into a gray tide. She would wake, eat without tasting, scroll without seeing, breathe without truly living. The world had continued to spin, yet she had felt left behind, as though submerged beneath dark water while everyone else stood beneath the sun.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing felt real.

That was what Amaras sounded like now.

The sight of it made Claire's heart ache.

Not because she pitied the so-called evil king, not because she forgave her.

But because she recognized that abyss.

That quiet, suffocating darkness that did not scream or rage, but simply swallowed everything until nothing felt worth reaching for.

Claire had stood at that edge once.

She knew how cold it was.

"Hey…" Claire said at last, her voice softer than before. "Does it really matter?"

She chose her words carefully, as though stepping across fragile ice.

To learn that the kingdom you bled for, the people you loved, the grief you carried like iron in your bones… might be dismissed as entertainment in another realm—that kind of knowledge could hollow anyone out from the inside. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

Claire understood that.

But still—

"Does it really matter?" she repeated.

Amaras glanced at her, her expression distant. "What does?"

"I mean… so what if Arventia is called a game in my world?" Claire swallowed. "So what if we're part of something larger? A design. A story. Something built by hands we cannot see." Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to continue. "Why does that erase everything?"

Amaras let out a faint, brittle laugh. "And why would it not? If our suffering was merely scripted amusement, then what value did it truly have?"

Claire stepped forward before she even realized she had moved.

"Because what mattered to you was never some distant philosophy!" she said, her voice rising with sudden heat. "It wasn't divine theory or cosmic design. It was your father! Your mother! Your knights! Your people! It was the lives you swore to protect! It was the tears you saw, the graves you stood before! That was real!"

She held Amaras's crimson gaze, refusing to look away.

"Answer me, Lion Sword King Amaras!" Claire demanded, her throat tightening. "If Abyssia rose tomorrow and swallowed Arventia whole, would you feel nothing? Would your heart stay silent? Or would it burn?"

Amaras did not answer. She merely lifted her hand in a dismissive gesture, as though brushing aside a child's argument.

But Claire caught her wrist.

The contact startled them both.

"You would care," Claire pressed, her voice trembling now—not with anger, but with something far more fragile. "Don't lie to me. You would care."

Amaras closed her eyes.

Her lips quivered before pressing into a thin line, as though holding back something that refused to be contained.

And that silence was answer enough.

Obviously… she would still care.

"You know, if you can still feel pain at the thought of it," Claire continued, more gently now, "… then Arventia still matters. Whether someone calls it a game or not does not change what it meant to you. It does not erase the love. Or the loss."

Her grip softened, but she did not let go.

"You lived it," she whispered. "That's enough."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The air between them felt heavy, but no longer empty.

And in that quiet, something in Amaras's expression shifted

…

After a moment, Claire spoke again, her voice softer.

"Besides, the Arventia I played… I'm certain it isn't the same as the Arventia you know."

"What?" Amaras's eyes sharpened slightly. "Explain."

"I think it was more like a copy," Claire said, sitting down beside the former king. "The version I played took place around a hundred years before the current events. In the latest patch, there was no NPC named Draco Silvervein, which means he had not yet claimed the position of Silvervein clan head. That title still belonged to Emilia's grandfather."

At that, Amaras's eyes widened in realization.

Claire turned to her, surprised by the reaction.

"Wait a minute. You said you saw all of my memories. How did you not know this?"

"Ah." Amaras cleared her throat lightly. "I saw fragments. Not everything. Possession does not grant perfect clarity after all." She looked faintly irritated. "And most of your… technical knowledge about this 'game' was difficult for my soul to process anyways. The concepts were too foreign and weird. I understood that it was called Arventia, but the finer details slipped away. I just could not stand the head-splitting pain it caused."

"I see…" Claire murmured. That made more sense.

Amaras folded her arms. "So, in a sense, your Arventia Online was not our Arventia at all?"

"Right." Claire nodded. "It feels more like it was based on your world's history rather than being the world itself."

She then paused for a moment, choosing the best words to explain.

"When I think about it, we players never truly changed anything important. We completed quests, cleared dungeons, defeated bosses, but the major historical events were fixed. They never shifted, no matter what we did. It was as if we were moving inside a story that had already been written."

"Oh…" A slow understanding dawned on Amaras's face. "So that is how it was…"

"Yeah." Claire nodded, then continued, her thoughts gathering shape as she spoke. "I don't know how it was created, of course. But I have a theory. What if the version I played was some kind of test? A controlled copy made by the goddess to observe people from my world? Maybe it was a selection process. And at the end of it… I was chosen?"

Amaras leaned back.

"Hm. An interesting hypothesis," she said slowly. "If a deity possessed sufficient power, such a construct would not be impossible. To replicate history… to observe countless souls, to design that game… yes. That lies within the realm of divine capability."