This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange-Chapter 639: The Question

Kain stepped through the door without a handle as it opened on its own.

Warm light spilled out onto him, replacing the cold fluorescent lighting of the museum. It almost seemed to be psychologically cleansing his tired mind, which had to look through the final moments of mankind on Earth.

Strangely, the light seemed to come from two sources that Kain couldn't yet see. Above was a warm golden light, as if from the sun. While at eye level was a cooler violet glow.

Kain looked back once more—toward the hallway of exhibits—before entering the door.

The white door creaked shut behind him.

And silence fell.

Not the oppressive, post-apocalyptic silence of the city ruins, nor the curated hush of the museum's artificial reverence.

This silence was natural.

Alive.

Kain blinked. His boots sunk half an inch into something soft and cool.

Grass.

He looked down. A circular ring of green spread out beneath his feet. Not the gray-tinged moss and ash-covered weeds he'd seen in the ruins outside, but true healthy grass—verdant and springy, warm from the sunlight, as though tended with care. Dew shimmered on each blade, catching the light like jewels.

He tilted his head back to gaze up.

Above him, no ceiling greeted his gaze—only an open sky. Pale blue, painted with soft clouds drifting lazily across a dome that defied logic. The air was warm, faintly floral, and smelled not like a museum or a tomb or like the rot that existed outside of the city.

It was a delightful slice of paradise in a world that had gone to hell.

The courtyard he stood in was a wide circle bordered by curved prisitine white stone walls.

And on the far side—etched high into the wall in bold, crisp English—was the question.

Kain's breath caught in his throat.

"What did Earth need most to resist the Abyss?"

The words glowed with violet light, almost like an LED sign but less modern and more ancient in its design. He stepped forward instinctively, crunching grass beneath his feet, gaze locked to the impossible script above.

And then—

A sound.

Not spoken aloud. Not from behind or above or within his own mind, but from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It repeated the same words again. At the same time, the text above morphed and changed to an unfamiliar language that Kain could oddly still understand intuitively:

"ᚹᛖᚨ ᛏᚺᛁᚾᚷ ᛟᚠ ᚺᛖᚢᚨ, ᚠᛖᛚᛚ ᚻᛖᚱᛖ. ᚠᛟᚱ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛚᛖᚷᚨᚲᛁᛖᛋ ᛟᚠ ᛗᚨᚾᛏᚻ… ᚹᚻᚨᛏ ᛞᛁᛞ ᚨᚾᚢ ᛗᚨᚾᛁᛏᚣᚾᛖᛖᛞ ᛗᛟᛋᛏ, ᛏᛟ ᚱᛖᛋᛁᛋᛏ ᛏᚺᛖ ᚨᛒᚤᛋᛋ?" novelbuddy.cσ๓

Kain tilted his head curiously. He didn't know that language and was quite certain it was not from Earth—but he understood it. Every word seemed to carry an inherent meaning that would automatically be understood by the listener regardless of their native tongue.

It reminded him faintly of the ancient draconic he'd learned a bit of when studying as a Pathfinder—except cleaner, less guttural. There was something about the sound that reminded him of Earth's Celtic language in it too. And yet… it still seemed undeniably distinct from both languages as well.

Still…it was nice that the trial went through the effort of having this universal language in both text and audio for all to understand…

"Even in death, Earth still insists on being inclusive," Kain muttered under his breath with a half-smile. "Gotta love the commitment."

The smile didn't reach his eyes.

He also, realized why the site of this trial was in a museum—that same inclusivity. There's no way the trial could have ever anticipated that Kain, who was likely the last Earthling in existence, managed to live and be in a position to retrieve the inheritance.

Therefore, the museum outside was likely intended to give trial takers from a completely different world and culture the opportunity to understand life on Earth and how the Abyss impacted it…all so that they could answer this question.

He stepped forward again—and finally noticed the pedestals.

Five of them.

Arranged in a perfect ring around a bare patch of dark, fertile soil in the courtyard's center. The soil gleamed as though freshly watered, turned recently by hand. It smelled rich—almost sweet. The sunlight beaming down from the open sky was brightest here, like a divine spotlight bathing the patch in golden warmth.

Each pedestal stood waist-high and made of carved marble, though each bore a unique symbol on its face—and atop each rested a seed. Around the size of his fist and solid gold.

And each nearly identical.

Kain moved to the first.

Unity—the universal text read. And above the word was the symbol of an unbroken chain.

Next, Magic. And on that pedestal was the symbol of a prismatic crystal that Kain took to represent some kind of magical crystal.

Kain walked to the third pedestal to find a symbol of what looked to be a double helix—Scientific Innovation.

The fourth pedestal. What appeared to be a gun crossed with a sword in an X shape—Weaponry.

The fifth pedestal had what appeared to be a lit wax candle cupped in a pair of hands solemnly—Faith.

Kain stepped back, head pounding.

Part of him was thankful that the test for this trial didn't appear to be dangerous—especially since he couldn't use spiritual power, his contracts, or the weapons in his space ring and was limited to his newfound physical strength to defeat an enemy.

But there was also a part of him that resented such a heavy question and wished he could just pass the test by mindlessly beating up whatever came into his path.

'I could use an enemy to blow off some steam…' He thought while cracking his knuckles and imagining Soreia's face.

Unfortunately though, that was not the task before him.

He felt the burden of each choice: how it might have worked to help mankind in its final days. How it had failed. He could see himself planting any of them.

He could also see how none of them would have been enough alone.

And now, as perhaps the last human born of Earth, the choice fell to him to judge the dead's shortcomings.