That night was too quiet. The Emerald Twilight Forest—a deep woodland sprawling across the southern foothills of the Jade Peak Mountains in the empire's east, where the demon race had dwelt since ancient times—the night air was clearer than usual. More stars. No clouds. Despite the absence of torches, the sky was bright enough that the outline of the stone pavement was visible in starlight alone. Leyd leaned his back against the outer wall of the abandoned cottage, gazing up at the night sky. His brief exchange with Kalva had just ended—"We're switching watch duty tonight," that was all it had been—and the lingering echo of those words still hung in the air. A man of few words, but over three days, Leyd had come to understand: the fewer words he spoke, the heavier their weight. His left forearm held a faint warmth. Heat rising from deep within his magical circuits. Not an injury. The atmospheric mana of the Emerald Twilight Forest—the magical essence drifting through the air—continued to flow along the inner walls of his circuits. This had been happening for three days, but tonight it was especially distinct. Like water beginning to return to a dried riverbed: quiet, but undeniable change. Leyd looked at his fingertips. (Not all of it yet.) Three years of rust didn't fall away so easily. He knew that. But something was definitely beginning to move. "I'll move a bit further away," Aira said. Her voice came from near the cottage wall. She stood about three paces from Leyd, facing the forest ahead. Her lustrous reddish-brown hair was tied back, and starlight fell across her leather armor's shoulder. The thin scar on her left cheek was barely visible in the darkness. "You don't need to move," Leyd said. "No, proper watch positioning requires appropriate spacing," Aira replied. "That's not what I'm talking about," Leyd said. Aira didn't answer. Her body remained facing forward, but her neck seemed to stiffen slightly. The posture drilled into her by knight's training—the kind that doesn't let emotions show through the body, yet the body becomes all the more honest because of it. Leyd gave a small laugh and returned his gaze to the night sky. That was when it happened. The quality of the air changed. It wasn't Leyd who sensed it. It was Aira. The battlefield instinct of a knight—the ability honed through training to read danger through her skin—caught the anomaly before Leyd's weakened magical circuits could. Aira's body shifted forward half a step, her right hand touching the hilt of her sword. "They're coming," Aira said. Her voice was low. That was enough. The warning ropes strung around the settlement's perimeter began to sound all at once. The tremor of rope strung with metal pieces and stones. From the west. Multiple sources. "Fifteen at minimum," Leyd said. The pattern of the rope's vibration told him the number. Magnetooth beasts—large magical creatures that had migrated with the eastern invasion, with shoulder heights matching adult men—transmitted a distinctive vibration through the ground when moving in dense formation. "Remove the metal," Leyd said. "Already on it," Aira said. Aira had already removed her knight's sword with its scabbard. Instead, she held a wooden beam she'd pulled from the abandoned cottage's dismantled materials. Magnetooth beasts—true to their name, possessing the ability to magnetically attract metal—made iron swords a trap that could pull your own arm along with them. It was a judgment not taught in the imperial knight corps' drills, but her body had moved first. The cottage door kicked open. "What's happening?" Lilia asked. Lilia emerged with her silver short bob disheveled from sleep, dragging a blanket halfway. One of her heterochromatic eyes—the pale purple one—was drowsy. "Stay inside," Leyd said. "How many?" Lilia asked. "Fifteen," Leyd said. "That's a lot," Lilia said. She said it matter-of-factly and tossed the blanket inside. Leyd thought she'd pull it over herself, but when she emerged again, she'd left the blanket behind and held her hands lightly open. She was preparing her biotic mana—the ability the demon race possessed to directly use the magical power within their bodies. "I'm counting on you to treat the wounded in the rear," Leyd said. "Got it," Lilia said. No hesitation. A smart kid, Leyd thought. --- The western defensive line collapsed quickly. Kalva's command of the demon warriors Golth and others mounted a counterattack, but the magnetooth beasts' magnetic force was merciless. Arms holding swords were pulled along with them. Two, three warriors were sent flying. For some, their metal armor became an obstacle instead. "Western line breached!" Kalva shouted. There was no panic in his voice, but it carried the cold tone of someone conveying the gravity of the situation. Aira moved. She swung the wooden beam horizontally, striking a magnetooth beast's flank. Wood didn't react to magnetic force. This simple fact was their lifeline tonight. One warrior looked at Aira with an expression that said "what can a wooden stick do," but the moment the beam struck the beast's front leg squarely, his eyes changed. Aira's swordsmanship had been forged in the imperial knight corps' drills. Even using a beam instead of a sword, the fundamentals of her movement remained unchanged. But a beam wasn't a sword. The center of gravity was different. The reach was different. To adapt to those differences in an instant while moving—that was the fruit of twenty-four years of training. Golth tried to grapple a magnetooth beast coming from the side, and his waist axe was pulled toward it. His body was dragged in an unexpected direction, his stance broken. Aira inserted the beam to pin the beast's neck. For just a moment, she was helping Golth. Golth gave Aira a sharp glance. Not the face of someone offering thanks. But not the face of someone about to attack either. At that moment, Aira picked up a piece of metal armor that had fallen at her feet and checked it. She sensed no magnetic force. Which meant wood was completely the right answer—she confirmed this obvious fact with a straight face. "...Did you just figure that out?" Golth muttered low. It was the kind of mutter that escaped before he could stop it. Aira might have heard. But she said nothing and moved toward the next beast. Leyd stepped forward at that moment. He channeled power through his magical circuits. There was no resistance as expected. That was the first shock. For three years, whenever he'd channeled mana through his circuits, he'd always felt it—the sensation of plunging an arm into mud, that clogged feeling. It wasn't there. Had the dense atmospheric mana of the Emerald Twilight Forest seeped along the inner walls of his circuits over these three days? The long-accumulated blockages seemed to melt open one place after another, heated by something. He concentrated for three seconds. Normal magic—atmospheric mana manipulation—worked by drawing, compressing, and releasing mana from the atmosphere through the body's magical circuits. What mattered here was precision. Not the amount of power. The magnetooth beasts' magnetic force-generating organs were concentrated in a specific location on their necks. Whether he had the precision to target only that spot. He controlled the bundle of mana that threatened to scatter, threading it through the eye of a needle. He released the compressed mana at the first beast's neck. The magnetooth beast stopped moving. When the magnetic force-generating organ lost function, the beast rapidly weakened. Its combat ability vanished. Second beast. Third beast. Consecutively. About seventy percent of his peak precision—that was an honest assessment. Three years ago, he couldn't have done this. Back then his circuits had been burned out, and he'd struggled not just with fine control but even with output adjustment. But tonight was different. Within four minutes, all fifteen beasts were neutralized. Silence returned. In the smell of scorched earth, Leyd placed his hand on his knee. Catching his breath. His body felt heavy with the mana he'd expended. But not so much that he'd collapse. The depth of exhaustion was different from three years ago. He looked quietly at his fingertips. (It's coming back.) Not all of it. Not all of it yet. But definitely. Lilia returned from the rear. She'd apparently used her biotic mana to stop the bleeding of one of the children, and both her hands trembled slightly. Healing that used your own vitality was deeply exhausting. But her expression was bright. The innocent relief of someone whose injured had gotten off with minor wounds. --- A bonfire was built in the center of the settlement. While treating the magnetooth beast's wounded warriors, Golth silently rubbed fat into his shoulder. Kalva stood before the scorched ground, arms crossed. After several seconds of silence, Kalva turned toward Leyd. "I take it to mean you have the will to fight alongside us," Kalva said. It was the voice of someone making an offer. The same mouth that had turned rejection toward him was now using the words of someone standing on the same ground. The three days of distance between them changed in a single sentence. Golth, his expression stern, gave a small nod. Leyd paused before speaking. "I'll be causing you more trouble," Leyd said. It was his usual light tone. But the tone of his voice was thinner than usual. The irony of his armor was transparent, revealing something else beneath. Aira heard it and—somehow—understood. He was truly happy. This was the voice of someone whose emotions wouldn't show on their face, but couldn't help leaking through their voice. Kalva's mouth moved slightly. Not enough to call it a smile, but it definitely changed. Only Lilia truly saw it. --- When the wound treatment was finished, Aira knelt before Leyd. "Please allow me to check for damage," Aira said. "I didn't overuse it tonight," Leyd said. "It's my role to confirm that," Aira said. It was a tone that brooked no argument. Leyd gave a small sigh and extended his arm. Aira rolled up his sleeve. The firelight illuminated Leyd's forearm directly. Pale blue scars—irreversible damage marks from mana fusion—and faint flushing from tonight's magic use. Aira's fingers traced the condition of the wounds. It was a motion performed with certainty as a knight's duty. But her fingers stopped. In the firelight's angle, his face was visible. (The wrinkles...) The face from three nights ago, when she'd first entered this abandoned cottage. The shadow of fatigue under his eyes, the deep lines on his forehead. Compared to that—the profile illuminated by tonight's flames had subtly different contours. The way fatigue was etched was shallower. It might just be the light. But the skin temperature transmitted through her fingertips was more stable than three nights ago. The flickering flames, the close distance, the sensation through her fingertips—when these three things overlapped, something creaked deep in Aira's chest. It creaked, and moved. (What is this?) Before she could put it into words, her hand had stopped. "Is something wrong?" Leyd asked. His low voice fell from above. Aira quickly withdrew her hand. "No. There's no problem," Aira said. "The old man's face is different from yesterday," Lilia said. Lilia said it from across the bonfire with pure curiosity. Her heterochromatic eyes reflected the flames, sparkling. "I think the old man is becoming not an old man," Lilia said. "What do you mean?" Golth asked. Golth furrowed his brow. Kalva started to analyze—then stopped. Only he knew why he'd stopped. "Lilia, be quiet for now," Aira said. Her voice came out. It was clear, but—just one note was off-pitch. Everyone present noticed it, subtly. Golth's expression didn't change. But his shoulder position shifted slightly. Kalva turned toward the wall—his face was thi