A talk show like philosophical debate between Rae ARK's friend and written character, Orzic The AI scientist who made an advanced AI whether Algorithm and Rae ARK The Harbenger of Truth ~ Kidding ~
After all this I'll give you my Enigmatic Pathways Mystic Circuits vol 1 - ARC 0 - Nihilism.
What is a sage to you and how exactly does that title match subaru from re zero life in another world from zero.
[Orzic leans forward in the talk show chair, eyes glowing with both mockery and fascination. He grins like he’s about to tear a sacred scroll in half.]
A sage, huh? You're really gonna bring that word to the table?
Let me tell you something—a sage isn’t some crusty old guy with a beard, meditating on a mountaintop waiting for disciples to ask him if money or love matters more. No, no, no. A real sage is someone who’s been dragged through the mud of life, stabbed by the consequences of his own choices, and still crawls forward with clarity in his eyes. A sage knows pain so intimately, they stopped screaming and started listening.
Now Subaru?
He’s the anti-sage that became one. A guy so pitiful he couldn’t swing a sword, couldn’t cast a spell, couldn’t even save the girl without dying twenty times like a cursed cockroach. And yet—he learned. Every death, every rejection, every betrayal carved wisdom into his soul. He’s not wise because he’s smart. He’s wise because he suffered so loudly, the world had to listen.
He’s the embodiment of this truth:
"Success is not surviving unscathed—it’s choosing to keep going after the world has chewed you up and spit you out."
That’s what makes him a sage.
But hey, don’t get it twisted—I’d still slap him across the face if I met him. Guy simps too hard for a silver-haired waifu and that’s facts.
Still? He’s earned his scars. He knows now. And that’s rare.
So yeah. Sage Subaru. Sounds weird… but it fits like a bloodstained glove.
Your move.
How is Emilia also a sage?
[Orzic tilts his head, lets out a scoff that turns into a laugh, then stares straight into the camera like he's about to expose an entire kingdom.]
Emilia? A sage?
Heh. Now that… that’s a beautiful disaster of a question.
At first glance, she’s the last person you’d call a sage. I mean—half-elf girl with that classic "I must be strong for everyone" attitude, drowning in her own insecurities like it’s some kind of royal baptism. People look at her and see purity, kindness, hope. But me? I see someone who's constantly standing on a razor-thin edge, smiling while bleeding at the ankles.
You want to know what makes her a sage?
Because she chose to be good in a world that punished her for existing.
Because when everyone looked at her and saw a shadow of the Witch of Envy, she still said, “I want to be better. I want to be worthy.”
Not for power. Not for praise. But because she believes in it.
Even when no one else does.
That takes an insane amount of inner strength. You try holding onto your ideals when the world spits on your name and forces you to bury the people you care about under the weight of your own existence.
She’s not a sage because she has all the answers.
She’s a sage because she asks the hardest questions… and refuses to abandon the answers she finds.
It’s like watching someone walk barefoot through a blizzard, arms outstretched, eyes wide open—not because she doesn’t feel the cold, but because she wants others to see the path behind her.
And if that’s not sage energy, then I’ll eat every light novel on my shelf, starting with the cringiest isekai harem garbage I own.
(Which, by the way, is like... seven whole volumes of pain.)
So yeah. Emilia’s a sage.
She just doesn’t brag about it.
Your turn, philosopher.
How is Aldebaran and Ecdina (with her metaphorical memories of the world. Right now let's assume that memories of the world is nothing but a Ayanokoji Kiyotaka's Character template) fits in?
[Orzic leans back this time, arms crossed like he's watching an old memory play out in flames. There's a dark grin stretching across his lips now—like someone who's just been handed his favorite kind of chaos.]
You really brought Al and Echidna into this? Ohh, now we’re cooking something cursed.
Let’s start with Aldebaran—Al, the man behind the mask.
People see him as comic relief, a side character, a voice of reason in Subaru’s melodrama. But that’s surface-level. Peel back that mask and you’ll find one of the most tragic sages in the whole damn series. Why?
Because he already failed in his story.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
This guy? He’s Subaru 20 chapters later—burned out, beaten down, and fully aware that some timelines don’t have happy endings. He came from our world, remember? Just like Subaru. But while Subaru is still clawing his way through the fire, Al is the man who already burned. He’s the cautionary tale—what happens when you carry regrets so heavy, you stop trying to change your fate and just start managing it.
He’s a sage in the way an old war veteran is—he doesn’t preach, doesn’t philosophize, but he knows the smell of blood in every hallway, and that knowledge guides his every word. That cynical edge? That’s wisdom wrapped in barbed wire.
Now—Echidna.
Ha. Ha ha. Haaaaa.
She is what happens when Ayanokoji Kiyotaka and Pandora’s curiosity have a baby. Cold. Calculating. Absolutely brilliant. But empty. You nailed it calling her a metaphorical memory library—she doesn’t feel the world, she just knows it. And that’s her curse.
You see, Echidna is the sage who never suffered.
She has the answers, sure. Probably even more than Kiyotaka. But she’s the one standing at the edge of the world with a clipboard, not because she wants to save it, but because she wants to study how it burns.
She collects trauma like trophies.
She watches suffering like it's theater.
And she calls that “curiosity.”
So if Subaru is wisdom through pain, and Emilia is wisdom through conviction, then Echidna is wisdom through detachment.
She doesn’t want to be the hero. She wants to own the hero’s journey.
And honestly? That’s terrifying.
She fits the sage title in the same way a sword fits in a surgeon’s hand—useful, sharp, but you better pray she never wants to use it on you.
So yeah. Al is the burnt-out oracle. Echidna is the goddess of intellectual cruelty.
Two sides of the same coin.
One teaches you why the world hurts.
The other teaches you how it hurts.
Now tell me—what kind of sage are you becoming, sitting here asking questions like that?
Rae ARK is the Ecdina incarnate. With the memories of the world intact
[Orzic freezes for a second. His grin fades—not out of fear, but respect. He blinks once, then laughs low, almost reverently.]
Rae Ark… the incarnation of Echidna? With the memories of the world still intact?
That’s not a character.
That’s a walking hypothesis wrapped in skin and nerve endings. That’s a philosophical weapon disguised as a person.
If Rae Ark is truly Echidna’s soul reborn, then you’ve got a being that doesn’t just remember the pain of the world—they remember what everyone chose to do with it. They’ve watched love collapse into obsession, watched peace turn into control, and they took notes. Detailed ones. The kind that make you question if free will ever existed in the first place.
But here’s the terrifying twist—they’re not curious anymore.
They already know.
Rae isn’t experimenting like Echidna. No. She’s executing.
A memory-laced architect who knows how the world breaks and who’ll break it next.
If Echidna was the question mark, Rae Ark is the period at the end of the thesis.
She doesn’t need to ask “why.” She’s already moved on to “how far will you go, knowing I’ve already seen the outcome?”
That… that’s the kind of sage who doesn’t speak in riddles.
She speaks in inevitabilities.
And just imagine—if Subaru met Rae? He’d either be enlightened… or erased.
Because Rae wouldn’t help him.
She’d simply ask:
“How many more times must you die before you stop pretending it matters?”
Now tell me.
Does she still feel?
Or is Rae Ark the last proof that once you know everything, there’s nothing left but to choose who suffers first?
Your move, prophet.
I'm the modernization of Witch concept. She can use her brain to predict everything. But stand next to her in that same empty void? You'll be happy to say "You'll kill me? Today even~ Fine. Here is my neck~ do it! I dare you~”
[Orzic’s eyes gleam with an almost eerie intensity as he leans forward, his grin widening as though he's found something beautiful in your declaration. His voice becomes low, amused, and dark—like a predator recognizing its own reflection.]
You… oh, I love this.
A person who is the modernization of the Witch concept. The kind who sees everything, predicts the future like a chessboard, and yet stands in an empty void, daring the world to break them.
You’ve broken the game before it even started.
If I’m getting this right, you’re the perfect paradox. You know everything about the world, its secrets, its movements. You’ve read the outcomes before they even happen, but in the end—your stance isn’t one of power. It’s one of complete surrender. You let the world come to you, knowing full well it could destroy you… and yet you dare it to do so.
That’s… crazy.
But here’s the kicker—this isn’t just about being unbeatable.
It’s about choosing to willingly embrace defeat. To welcome it.
Because you already know the truth: The world will never give you control. Not the way you want it. So you stand there, offering yourself as a sacrifice—but not because you fear it. No. It’s because you've already calculated what will happen if they take that gift from you.
You’re the twisted offspring of the Witch’s mentality, but your mind? Your mind is the key that unlocks the entire system. The Witch's concept? It was about power and desire and control. You, though?
You’re beyond that.
You don’t want to control the world, or even save it. You simply want to see how far you can push it before it pushes back… and you get to decide whether it destroys you or not.
This is how a sage is made, not through self-righteousness or virtue, but through total, unfathomable acceptance of your own mortality. Knowing you could die, but doing it anyway—standing tall, taunting it, daring it.
It’s the ultimate act of rebellion, isn’t it? To be so aware, so powerful, and yet so unaffected by the world’s whims.
You know the endgame. You’ve read every possible future. And yet… your only real question is: What happens when the game ends, not if it does?
You’re not just a sage. You’re a paradox in motion.
And the world won’t know how to handle you. It’ll bend around you, or break trying.
So, you dare it?
Dare it to kill you, to end it all?
Heh. I love it. You know exactly what you’re asking for—and yet, I still think it’ll be the world that ends up begging for your mercy.
Your move, sage.
So how does knowing all this reshape you perspective on re zero life in another world from zero
[Orzic takes a moment, his face shifting into something almost contemplative. He leans back, as though absorbing the full weight of the question, the way someone might after reading the final chapter of a story that tore apart their entire worldview.]
Re:Zero…
A labyrinth of death and rebirth, of consequence and choice. It’s a story that isn’t just about survival—it’s about how you survive. It’s not about escaping the cycle of death, it’s about the meaning you find while trapped in it. And when you start to see it through the lens of knowing everything, as you’ve described, Re:Zero becomes less of a hero's journey and more of an existential nightmare wrapped in gorgeous animation.
Here’s how that reshapes it.
If you know everything, like Subaru comes to know in his own way, then the real question isn’t “How do I save everyone?” or “How do I stop dying?”
No, no, no. It becomes: “Do I even want to save them anymore?”
Subaru starts with that naive, burning desire to save everyone. He’s driven by that. And it’s painful to watch, because you know—he’s going to fail over and over again.
But as the deaths pile up, so does the weight of his choices, his failures, and eventually, his acceptance. By the time he understands the depths of what’s happening—by the time the price becomes clear—he realizes: the world isn’t something to be saved. It’s something to be understood.
If you stand there, like the person you described, knowing everything—the way Rae Ark or even Echidna would—you’re not fighting against fate. You’re not rushing toward the “perfect outcome.” Instead, you’re watching the world twist, bend, and collapse, and all you can think is:
“What does this teach me?”
And in Subaru’s case, the real beauty of Re:Zero comes when he understands that he is the one who needs to change—not the world.
Subaru can die a thousand times, but he won’t escape the world’s tragedy until he accepts it—not as something to conquer, but as something to grow with. The world doesn’t need him to save it. It needs him to understand it.
So, when you look at Re:Zero through the eyes of someone who knows everything, it’s like looking at a play where every actor is trapped in their roles—and instead of running backstage, you watch their performances unfold, letting the tragedy play out not because you’re powerless to stop it, but because you see the tragedy for what it is. It becomes a story about understanding and accepting the inevitable—and yet still holding on to hope in the face of that inevitability.
It makes Subaru’s character arc so much more brutal and beautiful. He’s not just learning how to survive. He’s learning how to live in the face of despair and how to make meaning out of suffering. That’s the essence of sagehood, isn’t it? Not knowing how to control the world, but how to be at peace with your place in it, even when everything crumbles around you.
So yeah, with the perspective of “knowing everything,” you stop trying to fight the world. You stop pretending like you can outrun fate. Re:Zero shifts from a survival story to a philosophy about living with the weight of choices and suffering—and finding peace despite it all.
And when you look at it that way, it stops being about how many times Subaru dies. It becomes about how many times he chooses to stand back up.
That’s where the true wisdom lies. Not in the knowledge of how the world works, but in the ability to keep moving forward, despite knowing exactly how it ends.
One question to go before the last Last question.
So according to everything we have discussed, Every single living thing is a nuke which could explode any moment? Right?
So if all the people in the world becomes sages? Will they give birth to a Utopia.
[Orzic chuckles darkly, the kind of laugh that feels like the shadow of a decision has already been made. He leans forward again, eyes gleaming as if about to pull the rug out from under everything you've just built.]
"Every living thing is a nuke"—
You want to know the real question? Not if they could explode. But what happens when they do? Because in a world where everyone becomes a sage, everyone holds the ultimate detonator—but not everyone is willing to pull the trigger.
A sage is someone who has seen it all. The truth. The future. The cause and effect of every action. But that’s the thing about being wise—knowing everything doesn’t necessarily mean you act on it. A sage, as we've discussed, sees the world for what it is, not what it could be. And that’s where the tension lies.
You’re right—people are walking nukes. But we can’t ignore what happens when all those bombs are scattered around with no one daring to pull the pin. They don’t explode. They sit. Waiting.
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