The personal effort of the monsters came next. As the saying goes, "Interest is the best teacher," and soon enough, each of them had begun to master the instruments that drew their passion.
I had also entrusted the recreation of sheet music to someone truly capable. While I lacked the trait of perfect pitch, it mattered little. Solarys, Sovereign of Wisdom, approached the task with precision beyond imagination. Not only did he replicate the music notes, but he also re-composed some of the pieces to suit the abilities of our performers. I might have worried about copyrights in my previous life, but here in Eterna, there was no JASRAC, and the original composers were long gone. My focus was entirely on fostering culture.
Our orchestra was diverse: skilled violinists formed the backbone, while trumpets, kettledrums, and even pianos enriched the ensemble. The presence of the piano had initially sparked debate, but ultimately, I allowed the monsters to decide its inclusion. The result of this collaboration was guaranteed by Myourmiles' meticulous planning.
Today, for the first time, I would hear their performance live. I felt a rare tension as the lights dimmed and the curtains lifted. Members of the orchestra emerged, each in uniform, representing a variety of races. Humans, beastfolk, and other denizens of Eterna—all held their instruments with pride and confidence.
At the front, a halfling stepped forward. He must be the conductor. I recalled his despondence from before, when he believed he could achieve nothing. He had been unsuited for combat, farming, or construction, yet he possessed a rare talent: the ability to raise morale through song and leadership. I had recommended him to the army band and named him Taktstock.
Now, his face glowed with enthusiasm as he faced the nobles. A small, seemingly fragile figure, yet the posture of his back radiated unyielding strength. He raised his baton, and in an instant, the orchestra began.
A steady tone emerged, soon swelling into a solemn reprise. Under Taktstock's guidance, each performer moved in unison, their pride and dedication clear in every note. The music seemed to proclaim, "This is the best moment of our lives." It was mesmerizing.
Classical compositions—timeless works from Beethoven, Mozart, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Wagner, and unknown geniuses alike—filled the hall. These monsters, who had once been dismissed as weak or useless, had studied tirelessly to perform such pieces. Today, their hearts and souls resonated through each note. Anyone daring to mock them would face my wrath. Their performance was not just music—it was vindication.
Yuuki, standing beside me, closed his eyes and listened, nostalgia and admiration painting his expression. I allowed myself a small, smug smile. This is exactly what I intended.
But then, abruptly, the music shifted. Classical pieces flowed seamlessly into what I recognized as anime songs, and then, without pause, into pop music.
Yuuki's eyes snapped open, and he shot me a deadpan look. "You did this?"
"I am not responsible," I replied, though my voice carried a hint of restrained amusement.
"Answer: These are pieces selected from Master's memory that historically evoked high satisfaction," came Solarys' calm, confident explanation.
I groaned inwardly. The serious atmosphere I had carefully cultivated had been shattered. I liked these songs, yes—but the sudden tonal shift was extreme. Yuuki's subtle smirk confirmed he agreed.
Yet the audience, experiencing this for the first time, remained enthralled. Solarys had adapted the pieces flawlessly. To them, this was a marvel, not a disruption. Some of the nobles leaned forward, intrigued by the unfamiliar songs; others absorbed the energy of the music, whether classical, pop, or rock.
The orchestra's performance dominated the theater. Every noble and guest held their breath, completely captivated. Each note carried both technical mastery and raw emotion. By the end, the performance had fully established these monsters as true musicians, deserving recognition across Eterna.
Even the unconventional transitions—from solemn classical to lively pop—were executed with such precision and confidence that the audience had no choice but to be impressed. The enthusiasm in the theater remained high, echoing with applause and astonishment.
And with that, the performance came to its resounding conclusion.
The performance had concluded. The past hour had been nothing short of extraordinary—each note, each harmony, had been immortalized in the very air of the theatre.
As Myourmiles had explained, the public performances were designed to last one hour each, both in the morning and the afternoon. Too long, and even those unaccustomed to music might find it exhausting. By shortening the duration, we ensured enjoyment without fatigue.
There was no intermission this time. For our first attempt, we simplified certain steps to maintain flow and momentum. The concert I had just witnessed was the result of these calculated adjustments.
I stood, intending to offer my congratulations to those responsible for the flawless execution. Their dedication and skill deserved recognition.
As I prepared to clap, Taktstock bowed before us and raised his baton. Instantly, the theatre lights extinguished, leaving the hall in dim anticipation. A single spotlight pierced the darkness, illuminating a figure on the stage.
A petite young girl with soft pink hair—Shuna—stood poised, radiating an unusual charm in a white, open-shoulder dress. I had only seen her in her traditional kimono before. This vision seemed almost otherworldly.
Beside her stood a purple-haired beauty—Shion—draped in an off-shoulder dress. Bathed in the pale light, she looked ethereal, her silhouette alluring yet commanding. The subtle illumination highlighted her form, giving her presence a rare and intoxicating elegance.
The two bowed deeply, presenting themselves like a painting come to life. Every eye in the audience was drawn to them, yet the question lingered: what were they about to perform?
The light shifted as Shuna approached the piano, previously untouched during the orchestra's set. Shion lifted her violin, her stance confident yet graceful. I allowed myself a brief flash of concern—Shion's cooking skills were abysmal. Would her performance be as disastrous? No. Myourmiles' confidence left no room for doubt; he had invested everything into this event.
I closed my eyes, steadying myself, bracing for the opening notes.
Shuna's piano resonated with calm precision, each key struck with deliberate intent. Shion's violin followed, its tone fiery and passionate, as if her soul itself had been poured into every note. The piece evolved rapidly—it was no longer a duet, but a duel of spirits.
Yet the duel was exquisite. Shion's fiery temperament was softened by Shuna's gentle, deliberate keystrokes. The two personas intertwined, balancing and elevating each other. Every note conveyed subtle emotion, tension, and release.
I felt my soul stir. The mastery was beyond mere practice—it was ingrained, cultivated over years of discipline and devotion. Shuna, the miko-hime, and Shion, her guardian, had undoubtedly trained since childhood. Music was a vital part of religious celebrations, a conduit of divine expression. This, I realized, explained the intensity and precision of their performance.
The hall fell into a suspended silence, as though time itself had paused. Five minutes may have passed, or an eternity—I could not tell. When the final chord faded, a ripple of soft applause emerged.
I had intended to clap first, yet someone had anticipated me. Luminas, cleverly disguised as the maid of the two Holy Knights, had risen, clapping with quiet satisfaction. I followed, joining her in sincere appreciation.
The applause spread like wildfire. Emperor Elmesia of the Sorcerer's Dynasty of Sarion, Dwarf King Gazel, and nobles from across the Western Nations rose to their feet. Frey and Hermes, even the otherwise indifferent Midley, joined the chorus of admiration.
In Eterna, cultural performances were rare. Yet here, the response mirrored what I had known in my previous world—a shared human instinct to recognize and celebrate greatness. No "Encore" tradition existed, yet the appreciation was genuine and profound.
I believed the performance had concluded, but the stage darkened once more. The final piece commenced—Shuna on the piano, Shion with her violin, accompanied by the full orchestra. Each note was a declaration, a testament to the power of music and art.
Music—and true artistry—transcended barriers. It revealed the beauty of the world, tangible even to those who had never before encountered such expression.
Witnessing this, I understood that in Eterna, there were indeed moments of unassailable greatness. Beauty, in its purest form, could inspire anyone who dared to witness it.