Afterwards, John refused to explain anything else. Prota was curious about his various abilities, especially those with interesting names such as [Deus Ex Machina] or [Reader’s Revelations], but he wouldn’t talk. The only thing he’d explained was the ability known as [Infinity].

“It’s an ability that generates a continuous amount of energy, allowing me to multiply my power level,” he explained. “It never runs out, and can be increased up to… well, a large number. That’s why you can keep taking my mana. I have… uh, a lot of it.”

She pressed him for more answers but he refused to speak. Instead, he sent her to get the candles again while he went to get their IDs, with the slight variation of “Quarta Char” to “John Char”.

“You have to repeat a lot of things,” John explained after she came back from getting the candles. “It wasn’t necessary to get those, but the granny would be confused if you didn’t show up. That’s a complication, and complications get annoying That’s the other issue with resets. You have to go and do a bunch of things you already did. It gets boring,” he finished with a sigh. Then he smiled. “But hey, who ever complained about two birthday parties in a row?”

After eating, the staff was pulled out again, but Prota had known it was coming. Instead, John explained in further detail the staff she’d just received.

“Most magic staffs are used to channel and release mana,” he explained. “On the surface, this looks like a really shabby staff. However, it has the unique property of storing a user’s mana. Most people would find this useless since they cannot draw mana the way you do. However, for someone like you, this is like having an endless ocean of mana as a backup, as long as you put any excess mana you have into here.”

She focused on the staff, and there was a soft glow indicating the presence of energy residing within the wood. A small amount of mana had already been imbued into it.

John was also very pleased with the gift. Since it appeared to be pretty useless, he’d gotten it for basically nothing at all.

The rest of the day was spent packing. John had a small backpack and was stuffing all sorts of items into it, some of them larger than the bag itself, but it seemed to be magical since it never grew any larger. Upon finishing, he cast one fond look at his home before looking at Prota.

Eventually, night fell, and the priests would be looking for Prota. John wasn’t sure if the demon lord Diaboli had been looking for them, but he assumed she hadn’t been and disregarded her as a threat. They just had to stay out of her way.

“One year, Prota. We’re going to take one year.”

“...?”

“You want to rescue your sister, right? I don’t think you want me to do everything for you. I mean, it’s entirely possible for me to kill that demon by myself, but is that really what you want?”

She shook her head, clenching her fists at the mention of the demon. She hadn’t realised it at the time but… yes. She wanted a bit of payback.

“Then you need to get a lot stronger. You’re nowhere near the level you need to be at to fight Diaboli. So for one year, I’m going to train you.”

“John… is going to train me?”

He nodded.

“Unfortunately, I don’t know how to use magic very well. I’m not a mage. In fact, I’m not a fighter or a swordsman, either. I’ve never invested the time to… well, train, I guess. Everything I do is the result of… well, a lot of time’s worth of experience, and so that’s not something I can teach you. However, I think you have to potential to grow.”

He unfurled a map and pointed. “Scholaris,” he said. “School of the world’s best mages. We’re going to enroll there, me and you.”

She stared at him, somewhat dubious of his statement.

“Ah, right. I look too old, don’t I?” John said, scratching the back of his head. “Hey, Zero!”

Zero popped out. “Yeah?”

“I have some leftover [Deux Ex Machina] energy left, right?”

“Yeah, but you can’t use it that… oh, I see.”

The room began to glow as John activated his ability.

[Deus Ex Machina]

His body began to glow so bright it wasn’t visible, and when the light died down he was much smaller, around the size of a eleven year old. He pretty much looked exactly the same, just with smaller proportions, but it could make him pass as a much younger child.

“All right. How’s this?”

Prota stared at him, darting around and looking at him from all angles. This hadn’t answered her original question, which was that she doubted they would get it, but this raised a whole other set of questions. However, knowing he wouldn’t answer them, she walked up to him and pinched his cheeks as a final test.

“Mmph- ah- hey!” he exclaimed.

“Cute,” was all Prota had to say but she was clearly amused. She gave him a thumbs up of approval.

“Well, I guess it’ll do,” he sighed, rubbing his cheeks.

As they started heading for the door, John stopped one last time.

“Prota. Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, not only will this be a rough journey, but the training will be hard too. It’s not too late to turn around. I can still take care of you, but you don’t have to do all of this. You might go through a lot of pain. Hell, you’re probably going to die a lot, too. Are you sure about this?”

“...” The look on her face was somewhat annoyed, although it still looked exactly the same as always.

“Together.”

John chuckled. “All right.”

The bell of the bar door rang one last time as he headed out, hoods over their heads to hide their identities as John slung the large bag over his back. He took one last fond look at the bar, his home for 5 years… no, he didn’t have a home.

He was a wanderer. Doomed to wander alone forever… well, maybe not alone anymore. He slapped a “permanently closed” sign on the bar and didn’t look back.

“Here we go.”

~~~

They’d walked all night. Well, to be specific, John walked the whole night whereas Prota fell asleep, and John had carried her for most of the way.

However, this had given him time to think about what the next few steps were. While he was telling the truth about them going to Scholaris, he wasn’t the kind of guy to make a detailed plan. He’d trained someone before, but that was someone who’d been destined to become a great hero. Prota… she held enormous talent, but he didn’t really feel like working hard enough to make a plan for a whole year.

By holding Prota, however, he’d realized that while she’d become healthier over the six months she’d spent with him, her body was still weak and frail from a whole year of living on the streets, beaten by anyone mean and stupid enough to try. He didn’t think it would recover.

A child’s growth would be permanently stunted by something like this. It would be possible to train her to dodge and react, but she would probably never be a fighter, someone who could get up close and personal and trade blows with her opponent.

On the other hand, John realized that the small girl had an extremely high tolerance to pain. Whenever she tripped, stubbed herself, burnt her hand or anything of the sort, she never reacted, calmly looking at the injury before carrying on as if nothing had happened.

“...” he shifted her up once more and carried on, deep in thought.

~~~

Prota woke up in a bed. She hadn’t expected that considering John hadn’t told her where they were going, but upon looking around she found she was in a small wooden cabin.

“Up?” John said, sipping at a cup of tea. Prota rolled out of the bed and looked around some more.

The cabin itself was small, a single room comprised of a bed, a table with two chairs, some kitchenware and a sofa. Windows in the walls showed they were in some kind of forest, but she couldn’t tell where they were.

“I had this place set up a while ago,” John explained. “I didn’t think I’d ever use it again, but…”

“Honestly, this being here is just lazy writing,” he muttered but accepted it as a blessing.

“Are you ready to train?” he said, putting his cup down. Prota’s looked at him curiously. What kind of training did he have in mind? Meditation or something of the sort?

They went out, and she found the cabin was in some kind of clearing, with an area for a fire in the back, and a few target dummies standing further off.

“Alright.” John stretched as his red eye started glowing. “We’re going to fight.”

“...!”

“One hundred times,” he grinned. “And there are no restrictions. Are you ready?”

Prota gulped. “No restrictions” could only mean one thing.

“Begin.”

John flashed forwards, an orb of energy in his hands.

“Watch well, cause you’re probably gonna do this at some point.”

There was a blast of energy, and with that, Prota died.

~~~

“...!”

She sat up, once again in the dark space she’d found herself in the last time she’d died. Thankfully, there’d been no pain, but it was still a shock.

However, she found that it’d probably been better this way. No rational person would agree to die, even with the knowledge that they could come back to life. It was a natural built in instinct that allowed all living beings to survive.

“Hey,” John said, appearing out of nowhere. “Sorry about that.”

Prota cocked her head to the side. “You…”

“Yeah, I ended up killing myself,” John grinned, scratching the back of his head. “I’m used to it, though. The more important question is… are you ok?”

Prota nodded.

“Good,” he sighed. Clearly, he’d been somewhat nervous about how she’d react. That lead to the next question.

“Are you ok with this?”

“...what’s the point?”

John rubbed his chin as he thought.

“Well, that’s better than a no, I guess. Listen, Prota. There’re two… no, three reasons, ok?”

Prota nodded.

“One. I just need you to get used to the concept of dying and coming back. It can be a shock the first few times you do it, especially around other people but we’ll get used to that eventually. I don’t want you getting used to dying over and over. That’s… it’s not fun. You start to lose your grip on reality, and… well, let’s not get into it. I just want you to get familiar with the feeling.”

“Two. I want to help you grow with real combat experience. However, the only person you have to fight right now is me, and you’ll grow a lot faster against a much stronger opponent. However, I have no means of stopping myself right before you die, which means death will be a natural part of the process.”

“Three. Every time we die, we go back a day in time. This means that we have a lot more than a year, technically speaking, for you to grow. I think we could use a bit more than a year.”

He looked at her in the eyes. “Is that ok?”

She considered it. There really wasn’t a downside to it, considering it wasn’t really that much of a hassle, but…

“I want something,” she said firmly.

“...” John sighed. “Like what?”

“...” Prota hadn’t thought that far. The two sat in silence, the glow of the white reset button hovering nearby.

“Oh,” John said suddenly, snapping his fingers. “How about this?”

“Every time, I’ll tell you a bit of a story.”

“...story?”

“A story, yeah. Hm… what would be a good one to start off with…”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“How about… [redacted]?”

He frowned. “Huh? Uh… [redacted]?”

Zero appeared and laughed. “Copyright issues, I think.”

“...you’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

John rolled his eyes, while Prota was confused. Copyright? What did that mean?

“Well, if that’s the case… I’ll tell you the story of “The All-Knowing Reader”,” he said. “It’s the story of a man who loved to read, only to find himself in the world he’d read about so much… a story of struggle and passion, the story of an underdog finding his place. Interested?”

Prota’s eyes shone and she nodded. “Ok!”

John laughed. “It’s a deal, then?”

Prota nodded once more, giving him a thumbs up.

“Alright.”

[Reset]

~~~

From that point on, there was a comfortable “single day” of training. Every morning they woke up, the scenery was exactly the same.

Mornings were spent doing light physical training. Prota’s body prevented her from doing too much, but John wanted her to at least learn to run around and dodge. Interestingly enough, her light body was an advantage for her, allowing her to move swiftly, like a small ballerina, nimble and light.

The other reason John never really pushed physical training, much as he’d like to, was that resets negated any physical training done. Resets would put their bodies back to the way they were at the point of the reset, so any muscle growth would essentially be negated.

Instead, he focused on teaching her magic. He wasn’t exactly a mage himself, so it wasn’t easy, but she was a good learner.

“Focus,” John said. “Where I came from, there was something like magic, and it was formed by willpower. Focus in front of you, and picture something, anything, and try to form it.”

Picture something? Like food? Prota wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to be picturing, but she let her heart decide.

The first ten times or so, nothing happened, but John consoled her and helped her through it.

“It’s ok,” he shrugged. “I’m not exactly a good teacher, and you’ve never used magic before. It’s natural. Just keep trying.”

Occasionally, John would go out into the back and pull out twin blades, one black the other red, and practice swordsmanship, or practice hand to hand combat on the dummies standing in the clearing behind the cabin. Prota would sit, often with a snack, and watch with interest.

Then, in the evenings, they’d fight. In the first ten fights, all Prota could do was attempt to dodge as John would fly at her, killing her in various ways such as cutting her head off or snapping her neck. However, she noticed that all the methods of death were those designed to be as painless as possible, methods of death that would kill instantly.

However, she was ok with it. If it was anyone else, she probably would have been mildly annoyed with the circumstances she found herself in, but in reality she found herself looking forwards to dying most of all.

The reason for this was the story John was telling.

The story of a man named Dokja, travelling through a ruined world, one only he was familiar with. It was an interesting story, and she would always beg for more once he stopped.

“Next death, Prota,” he would smile and ruffle her hair.

Within those first ten days, both of them suffered somewhat as well. Prota would occasionally catch John staring into the fire, a vacant look in his eyes, but she never asked him what was going on. Occasionally he’d clench his fists or give a grunt of dissatisfaction, and she would see the personality he always tried to hide behind his mask. It made her sad.

On the other hand, John would sometimes be woken up by Prota’s cries when she had a nightmare, dreaming of the days she was all alone, or dreaming of the possibility of John leaving her alone and rejecting her.

Both of them were still haunted by their pasts, but…

It was different now. They had each other.