The light of dawn was beginning to seep into the canopy of the Grün Great Forest. Gold and white mingled in a mottled sky. Only one type of bird call echoed from distant, high branches. The mist that had been falling since yesterday had nearly dissipated, and the outlines of the trees were now sharp and clear. And yet, a portion of the earth alone was—black. Yui stopped in her tracks. The aftermath of the blight's passage was quieter than she had imagined, and that very quietness was terrifying. Withered plants lay collapsed, turned brown as if they had aged rapidly. The soil was discolored black, and from its surface, faint remnants of light wavered. It wasn't something physical like heat or cold—the space itself seemed wrong. A feeling that something was "still here." Her shoulder movement was still slightly shallow. The exhaustion from last night's escape lingered deep in her muscles. "Don't get closer," Ratharis Ordina said from three steps behind, his voice low. It wasn't quite a command, more of a confirmation, but it carried an undeniable certainty. "...I understand," Yui answered, yet she remained still, observing the blight's aftermath. Thin threads of luminous syntax wavered at the edge of her vision. The base-layer text of this world that she always saw was clearly distorted around the traces of the blight. Memory leak, she thought instinctively. In the world of programming, it was the phenomenon of forgetting to release memory after use. Resources allocated somewhere were left abandoned, accumulating and eventually straining the entire system. This blight's aftermath seemed like the sealing syntax had "failed to close the processes that should be closed," and its aftereffects were continuously seeping into the space. "For seven hundred years, no one could interfere with it," Ratharis said quietly. His voice was emotionless, merely stating fact. "Hundreds of syntax mages attempted it, and all were repelled. Or disappeared." "The Sealing Annihilation War—the great war seven hundred years ago where a third of the continent's population was lost," Yui said, recalling words Ratharis had spoken during last night's escape. "If that seal is still functioning..." "Barely," Ratharis said. "The blight that should have been completely sealed is now leaking out frequently. The rift zone north of Færen Village, this as well—all are signs of the seal's deterioration." Yui pointed her finger at the blight's aftermath. She had no intention of touching it. She simply—read the syntax. She traced the crumbling descriptions drifting in the air with her eyes. Incomplete variable declarations. Chunks of unclosed processes. A loop that failed to terminate properly, continuing to run in an unfinished state indefinitely. (I might be able to patch this.) Just a small part. Not a fundamental fix, but emergency treatment for the worst section. Yui moved her fingertips. She concentrated her consciousness, rewriting only the "forgotten termination process" of the crumbling syntax. Carefully, carefully. She wouldn't repeat the failure from that first day when she had carelessly removed the upper limit in the production environment. Only minimal changes. Something felt like it tightened. Dun—the air resonated. More of a vibration than a sound. At the center of the blight's aftermath—a section roughly twenty centimeters in diameter changed from black to earth-colored. That was all. But Ratharis moved in that instant. He stepped forward. His golden eyes fixed on that small circle of earth-colored ground. "...It changed," Ratharis said. The tone of his voice shifted, ever so slightly. Yui confirmed in her mind what she had done. Yes, it changed. The patch applied correctly. "However," Yui said, "this is only emergency treatment. If we don't fix the fundamental sealing syntax itself, it will gradually crumble from this same spot again." "How do we fix the fundamental syntax," Ratharis asked. "We need the source code. The original complete syntax of the mage who wrote the seal—we need a place where we can see it all," Yui said. Ratharis didn't respond. But Yui felt the quality of his silence had changed. Yesterday's silence was "calculating the threat." This silence was different. "...Are you saying we need to go to the source of the seal," Ratharis said. "Probably," Yui said. Ratharis looked once more at the changed portion of the blight's aftermath. Seven hundred years. Something no one had been able to touch, and this stray mage had interfered with it using just her fingertip. Twenty centimeters. A truly small change. But the difference between zero and one was infinite. Ratharis turned his gaze back to Yui. "Let's go," he said. He didn't say his evaluation had changed. But the resonance of those words was different from yesterday. ◆ After walking a bit further, Yui stopped and spoke. "We need a base," she said. Ratharis turned around. "Even if we're moving toward our destination, I need to use a syntax board somewhere to organize our current position. Also, I haven't eaten anything since last night, so my thinking capacity recovery speed is declining," Yui said. "...A temporary base," Ratharis said. "I can summon a tent using syntax magic. You have a syntax board, right? One consumable sheet would be enough," Yui said. Ratharis paused for a moment, then withdrew from his pocket a syntax board worth fifteen silver coins—a thin metal plate with syntax engraved on it for portable use—and silently offered it. Yui took it and began constructing the syntax in her mind. The tent's structure. An entrance. Space enough for two people inside. (Occupancy = 2) She set the variable. No problem. Clear parameters. She confirmed and activated it. The syntax board glowed. Doon!!! Something fell from above. Or rather, it was "summoned." Expanding from top to bottom at tremendous speed—fabric. Massive amounts of fabric. Yui couldn't understand what was happening for a moment. Thick gray cloth was wrapping around her from all directions. Her vision darkened. "Eh," Yui said. "..." Ratharis said nothing. Complete darkness. She struggled within the fabric. Soft, thick, heavy. She couldn't find the exit at all. She could barely breathe. But when she reached out, there was fabric, when she kicked, there was fabric, when she twisted her body, there was fabric. "...I can't get out," Yui said. Dozens of seconds of silence. Zashu—the sound of a sword cutting through fabric. Light poured in. Ratharis was silently swinging his sword. One swing, two swings, three swings. The mass of fabric was cut to pieces, and finally Yui's face was exposed. She got out. She stood up, brushing her disheveled hair back from her forehead, her hands on her knees. Around her, the shredded gray fabric lay scattered like fallen leaves. Ratharis sheathed his sword and looked at Yui. His expression hadn't moved. His golden eyes were calm. But there was something—like he was choosing his words. "...Explain," he said. "I made a mistake in how I passed the parameters," Yui said. "Ha," Ratharis said. "This world's syntax doesn't have a concept of 'occupancy.' It seems to define space by 'occupied volume.' When I specified 'number of people = 2,' the syntax interpreted it as 'volume = maximum value' and..." Yui said. "Parameters," Ratharis said. "Yes," Yui said. "Did you just say that," Ratharis said. "Eh? Parameters?" Yui asked. Ratharis paused. "Don't use that word in this place again," he said. "Eh, vocabulary restriction?" Yui asked. "When you use words I don't understand, it interferes with my thinking," Ratharis said. "...That's a logical reason," Yui said. Yui accepted it readily. She understood herself that using vocabulary the other person didn't know was a bug in explanation. "But I can at least explain why the fabric came out. I won't repeat the same mistake," she said. "We only have one syntax board left," Ratharis said. "..." Yui said. "Forget the tent. We'll move while foraging for food. I have knowledge of hunting," Ratharis said. Yui looked around at the remnants of scattered fabric. The tent had transformed into a giant fabric hell, and the prince had cut it to pieces with his sword. In every way—it was foolish. "I'm sorry," Yui said. "Let's go," Ratharis said. He said it curtly and began walking. Yui took one deep breath before following him. She stepped over the scattered fabric and into the depths of the forest. ◆ About thirty minutes later, her legs stopped obeying her. At first it was small stumbles. She caught her foot on a tree root and stumbled half a step. She steadied herself. She continued. But at the next root, this time her legs wouldn't support her. Her knees buckled. Yui reached out to a nearby tree trunk, but her fingers slipped, and she fell to her knees. Both knees on decayed leaves. The cold sensation of soil seeped into her kneecaps. (I can't stand.) Three days and three nights of server work. The transfer. One night in the abandoned cottage. Last night's escape. This morning's syntax processing. It all came together like a single thread, and now that thread had snapped. Her body was demanding it—lie down, it said. Right here, right now. For one second, she heard nothing. The wind seemed to stop. Ratharis's footsteps had stopped too. Yui raised her gaze. Ratharis had turned around and was looking at her. His golden eyes quietly observed her kneeling state. Like he was calculating something, that one second felt unusually long. Ratharis said nothing. He approached and knelt beside the kneeling Yui, silently extending his arm. Yui tried to pull herself up using his arm, but her legs wouldn't respond. Ratharis placed her arm over his shoulder. It was less a matter of supporting her and more of carrying her. "Thank you," Yui said. "A broken tool would be inconvenient," Ratharis said. He said it matter-of-factly, still facing forward. There was no mockery in his tone. It was simply matter-of-fact. (A tool, is it.) She didn't like the word "tool." But now, she didn't have the energy to object. And even if she did, she didn't think it would change anything. In Ratharis's mind, Yui's position was "an existence that might become a clue to the seal," nothing more, nothing less. But—that arm was definitely supporting her. The weight and body heat transmitted through the leather glove reached Yui's body through her shoulder. It was warm. Warmer than she expected. A human temperature, slightly at odds with the cold atmosphere. For some reason, something deep in her chest trembled slightly. (It's because I'm tired.) Yui immediately concluded. When your judgment is impaired, this kind of thing happens. It's a logical interpretation. It makes sense. But she said nothing until that arm released her. ◆ They rested in the shade for several dozen minutes. Ratharis silently foraged for nuts and water, and Yui ate them. The nuts of this world were slightly sour. When her strength had recovered somewhat, Ratharis spoke. "There's a ruined syntax tower nearby," he said. "A ruined syntax tower?" Yui asked. "Before the Royal Syntax Academy formally took control—a base used by syntax mages more than three hundred years ago. Several are scattered along the southern edge of the Grün Great Forest. No one uses them now," Ratharis said. Yui stood up. This time her knees responded. "I want to see it," she said. The ruined syntax tower was half-buried in the forest. It might have once been a tower, but now only the walls remained, thickly covered in moss. The interior was collapsed, and the roof was almost entirely gone. But the stones of the walls were thick and had endured more than three hundred years of rain and wind, still standing. Yui approached the wall surface. There were engraved syntaxes. Many parts were too weathered to read, but the deeply carved sections remained. Yui concentrated her vision. The text of this world adjust