The warmth of the hand that had gripped him still lingered. Raid was aware of that sensation as he ran. The moment Aira's right hand had pulled strongly on Raid's arm—just before the Emerald Twilight Forest was engulfed in flames, when Aira's body had moved before her mind could think, rushing toward the voice that echoed from beyond the smoke. That was the moment. The heat transmitted through the fabric. It wasn't merely the force of a "confirmation check." And even now, inside the stone door. The ancient ruins 〈Corridor of Ash〉—ancient stone architecture buried deep within the Emerald Twilight Forest—six people were running through its interior. Geometric patterns carved into the stone walls flowed past the edge of their vision with each step. There were no torches. But the stone itself emitted a faint light, so it wasn't dark. It was an old, quiet light, as if something dwelled within the stone itself. "Don't stop, keep going deeper!" Kalva called out from the front, his voice clipped and commanding. Kalva was leading. Dust clung to his broad shoulders, and his running feet were sure and swift. He shielded the villagers while checking the corridor's structure, tapping the wall once as he passed. His gaze revealed no emotion, but tonight alone it seemed faintly stern. Raid glanced at his right hand once while running. Aira was already facing forward, running. Her reddish-brown hair was disheveled, her green eyes scanning the stone wall and geometric patterns ahead. The gaze of a knight. An exit. A retreat route. Possibilities. There was no hesitation in her face. But her fingertips—the lingering scent of what she had touched moments ago seemed to remain there. (I'll sort this out later.) Aira cut off the thought in her mind. Right now was the mission. Moving her feet was the only correct answer. Then, in the middle of the corridor, there came a heavy sound. A section of the ceiling fell. *** Rubble blocked half the passageway. Stones ranging from fist-sized to boulders the size of an adult's torso were piled haphazardly, blocking the path. Dust swirled up, and the visibility turned white and hazy. "Villagers, go through first!" Kalva made an immediate decision. There was a gap in the rubble that an agile person could slip through. No problem for children. Even the elderly could pass with help. Kalva slid through first and began pulling from the other side. The villagers passed through one after another. Golt pushed from behind. Five people, six people. Then. Everyone's movement stopped for a beat. It was Lilia. Her silver short bob swayed in the dust. The handmade ornament hanging from her neck swayed gently. And in both her arms—a bundle of leaf specimens, a bundle of dried medicinal herbs, a bundle of copied notes, several pebbles, and several other unidentifiable items—were clutched. All of Lilia's possessions that she had gathered during the three days she had been staying in the abandoned cottage of the village had accompanied them on this escape. Kalva looked at Lilia from across the rubble for just a moment. Then he looked up at the geometric patterns on the corridor's ceiling. One second. Two seconds. Without saying anything, he turned his gaze back and simply said, "Come." Raid muttered quietly. "Who's carrying the most luggage in the village?" Running, Aira responded immediately. "Please be quiet right now." Lilia approached the rubble with a disgruntled expression. "But the leaf one took three days to dry—" "We'll hear about it later. Get through now," Kalva said. Kalva extended his hand. Lilia took it, and with her belongings jingling, she climbed over the rubble. The handmade ornament given by a child caught on a rock and swayed for a moment, but it didn't come off. After Golt and Lilia passed through to the other side, their view was cut off by the rubble. They could still hear each other's voices. But they couldn't see each other. In the dimly lit passageway where dust drifted, only Raid and Aira remained. For several dozen seconds. "Can we go around from here?" Raid asked, checking the wall. On the right side, there was a narrow gap that barely avoided the rubble. Just enough space for one person to squeeze through sideways. Aira checked first and nodded. "We can get through. But—" Aira began, then stopped. What she was about to say had nothing to do with the mission. During those several dozen seconds of avoiding the rubble and moving forward, she had heard Raid's voice. By the position of his voice, she could tell where he was. Every time his voice sounded, Aira's feet naturally confirmed that direction. If asked the reason, she could answer "safety confirmation." But what moved in her chest was something simpler, something more personal. The two of them squeezed through the gap in the rubble. The moment they emerged on the other side, Aira's right hand—reflexively, almost unconsciously—touched the sleeve of Raid's cloak just once. A confirmation check. A survival confirmation. An action that could be explained as a knight's habit. But only the force of that grip couldn't fit neatly into such vocabulary. Her fingertips were confirming that there was body heat beneath the fabric. In the next moment, her hand had already let go. Raid said nothing. But his gaze alone turned toward Aira for a moment. His amber eyes caught the faint light in the dust. Eyes that held the composure of forty-two years, but tonight alone seemed to have something different mixed in. "Let's go," Raid said. His voice was low. That was all. The two of them ran forward. *** As the corridor progressed deeper, the ceiling grew higher. The geometric patterns on the stone walls became more complex. Concentric circular patterns transformed into spiral patterns, and eventually became combinations of shapes never seen before. In the research documents of the Imperial Luminous Rune Institute—the national magical academy with its main branch in the imperial capital Verga—there was a record of ruins with patterns like this. But the style was fundamentally different. Not imperial technology. Much older. Raid was confirming this as he ran. Something strange was happening. With each step, as the corridor's geometric patterns passed near his body—the pale blue scar on his left arm began to emit a faint heat. The depths of his magical circuit were responding to something in this stone wall. For three years, the circuit had remained rusted and immobile, but since coming to the Emerald Twilight Forest, it had begun to move little by little. In this corridor, that acceleration was increasing further. With each step, it felt as if something was opening, one layer after another. (What is this?) His magical precision increased during an escape. That was a contradiction. After combat and exhaustion, the circuit was being honed. The atmospheric magical essence of the Emerald Twilight Forest—the magical power drifting in the air—and something about this ruin were combining. Raid didn't yet understand why. But the circuit continued to move without understanding. "There's a chamber ahead!" Kalva's voice came from the front. The six of them ran into a circular chamber about ten meters in diameter. The ceiling was high, and the four walls were sealed with stone. In the center stood a pedestal, and upon it was placed a stone structure carved with complex geometric patterns—some kind of device. The core of the pattern emitted a faint light. It was like a fluorescent color, but not fluorescence—an old, quiet light. Kalva checked the walls thoroughly. Golt confirmed another direction. "There's no exit," Kalva said. It was short and direct. No emotion in it. Just a situation report. But after those words echoed off the stone walls and faded, all six of their breathing became shallow at once. The villagers huddled against the wall. One of the children clung to an adult's arm. Footsteps could be heard. From beyond the stone door. From outside the corridor, resonating low through the stone. Regular, quiet, unhurried. The way of movement that confirms the completion of an encirclement while advancing. Aira understood. These were the footsteps of soldiers trained by the Imperial Knight Order 〈Armored Heron Knights〉. She had received the same training. They weren't panicked. They were advancing with the composure of those certain there was no escape. "We have only minutes in any direction," Aira said quietly. Her voice was that of a knight, emotion suppressed. But as she spoke those words, as she checked the four walls again, something inside Aira quietly became resolved. Lilia hugged the bundle of specimens against her chest again. The bundle of samples, the child's ornament, the bundle of notes. Kalva quietly gripped the hilt of his sword. He positioned the villagers against the wall and stood in front of them. Golt silently took his place beside Kalva. The body moved before thought could catch up. Aira's right hand gripped Raid's arm. Strongly. It was different from all the times she had touched him to check his wounds. Different from when she had pulled his sleeve in the smoke. This grip clearly exceeded the range that could be explained by a knight's vocabulary. The hardness of Raid's arm and his body heat transmitted through the fabric. Her fingertips didn't want to let go. Aira kept facing forward, her voice lowered. "Stay alive," she said. Just one sentence. What it was, even Aira herself couldn't yet put into words. Whether it could be called romantic love. Too hot to be called a sense of duty. Not something that could be written in a mission report. But her entire being knew that she had to say these words now. She didn't want to think about something ending without saying them. Raid said nothing. Instead, he gently squeezed the arm that was gripping him. The pressure was weak. Not forceful or certain, but a quiet pressure. Yet there was clearly will in it. A will that answered Aira's hand's warmth, nothing more. The form of a forty-two-year-old man's suppressed emotion. Lilia saw it. The silver-haired girl with heterochromatic eyes looked at their joined hands for just a moment—then, without saying anything, faced forward. Her silence was kind. Not feigned ignorance, but a choice not to speak. Her own wordless approval. The footsteps beyond the stone door stopped. In the chamber, only the breathing of six people remained. *** Silence lasted for several beats, and then— The stone device in the center glowed. It was a faint luminescence. At first it was barely noticeable, but the pattern at the core definitely lit up. The light transmitted to the adjacent pattern, then to the next. As if a thread of light traced the patterns, they ignited in sequence. The geometric patterns on the chamber's walls responded quietly to that light. The center of that glow turned slightly toward where Raid stood, growing a little brighter. Raid looked at his right hand while still gripped. The pale blue scar on his left arm glowed with the same color as the device's light, faintly shimmering. Something deep in his magical circuit was resonating. Between the device and his body, a thin thread seemed to be tied—not sound, not sensation, but something that was definitely there, a quiet resonance. The atmospheric magical essence of the Emerald Twilight Forest, the mechanism of this ruin, and something within himself were trying to face the same direction. Aira looked at Raid's face. It was close. At the distance of the arm she was gripping, their faces were near. In the device's light, that profile—which should have shown exhaustion and depletion—was changing again. She had noticed it since coming to the Emerald Twilight Forest. With each step, with each use of magic, the awkward movements became smooth, the fatigue lines on his face faded, and something was being recovered. A contradictory change. In a place where he should be depleting, he was re