The cobblestones wouldn't stop trembling. If anything, the vibrations were growing steadily stronger. The rhythm of the tremors crawling up through the soles of their feet was far too regular. This wasn't an earthquake. It was something alive. Footsteps—something approaching with the steady rhythm of breath—were striking the stone floor of the ruined city. "It's coming," Aira said quietly. She drew her sword. The blade slid from its sheath, catching the light from the purple sky with a dull gleam. Her long reddish-brown hair was tied back, and her green eyes fixed straight ahead on the outer edge of the ruined city—beyond the crumbling buildings, toward the direction where rubble accumulated. There was a composed air about her bearing. It was the honed reaction of a female knight, a vice-captain of the vanguard sent to the frontier, sharpened by the battlefield. Raid braced himself as well. The pale blue scar on his left arm—the mark of circuits damaged by magical fusion—was beginning to generate faint heat. The magical circuits within his body were resonating quietly with the dense mana of this ruined city. It was a sensation he hadn't felt in three years. And Lilia... The moment Aira glanced sideways to check on Lilia, her brows furrowed slightly. The silver-haired girl with a short bob was clutching her baggage to her chest while chewing on something in her mouth. A bundle of dried medicinal herbs—she was gnawing on it like candy, letting it protrude from one corner of her mouth—and she was already taking a ready stance with the powerful footwork characteristic of the demon race. "...What is that?" Aira asked. "Medicinal herbs. I get the urge to chew when I'm nervous," Lilia replied. She must have pulled them from her pocket. Even now, with a magical beast approaching, her expression was remarkably casual. "Now is not the time for that conversation," Aira said. Aira placed a hand to her forehead. For just a moment, her face was completely serious. "...Please take your stance, Lilia," Aira said. "Roger that," Lilia replied. Lilia shoved the herbs back into her pocket and spread her feet in a wide stance. The motion was surprisingly well-executed. Raid's mouth twitched slightly at the corner. He didn't voice it. But for the first time since arriving at this ruined city, the atmosphere felt a little lighter. That made the tension that followed all the more stark. Something collapsed beyond the rubble. The sound of a large stone being flung. Then—a shadow appeared. It was massive. Raid instinctively measured its scale. Over two meters at the shoulder. It had four legs, but the length of its arms was abnormal. Each time its claws touched the ground, a metallic screech echoed as they carved scratches into the stone floor. Its body surface was darkened, with a texture completely different from the creatures that had inhabited the Emerald Twilight Forest or the magnetic-fang beasts of the empire's eastern regions—those large magical beasts that drew metal equipment through magnetism. This was something unique to this ruined city. A second beast emerged from the shadow of the ruins to the right. "How many?" Aira asked. "Two visible right now. There might be more behind," Raid replied. "Can you handle it?" Aira asked. Her voice was low and quiet. Her tone was controlled, but beneath it lay trust. It was the way one confirmed with a respected partner. Raid looked at the scar on his left arm. The heat was intensifying. "Let's try," Raid said. He spoke briefly and stepped forward. *** The cobblestones of the ruined city began to glow with light. The moment Raid unleashed his magical power, the geometric patterns carved into the stones beneath his feet—ancient designs of the same lineage as those in the Ash Corridor—began to emit faint light in a cascading chain reaction. One stone, then another, spreading like ripples. It was a phenomenon he'd felt in the Emerald Twilight Forest, but here in this ruined city, both the speed and scale were incomparable. (So this is the difference in mana density.) Something moved within Raid's body. Until three years ago, it had been something he could use as naturally as breathing. That perception—"everything within reach becomes visible as magical power"—the full-power sensory awareness from when he was called the empire's greatest mage, had returned in this very moment. The flow of mana in the atmosphere wasn't visible to the eye. But he could feel it. Where the density was high, where the gaps were, how to move it to reach where—he understood all of it beneath his skin. This was not the sensory awareness of a man who had spent three years in the village of Kazami, dealing with back pain while watching sheep. The magical beast charged. Raid raised his right hand. Magical power was compressed and released. Not an explosion or a flash, but a precise, concentrated discharge to a single point—the fighting style of the empire's greatest mage prioritized accuracy over spectacle. He didn't aim for a vital point, but for the critical joint of movement. The front leg. The moment the mass of magical power struck directly there, the beast lost its balance and crashed onto the stone floor. A second strike followed. Before the first beast could recover, the second was coming from the left. Aira moved sideways, deflecting its trajectory with her sword. Sparks flew where blade met claw. Aira's feet kicked off the stone to create distance, and in that single moment, Raid's magical power descended from above the second beast's head. It was a quiet strike. The second beast fell. By the time the third beast emerged from the shadow of the ruins, Raid's circuits had already completed the next compression. From deployment to release took less than two seconds. For someone with a three-year gap, the speed was remarkable. When the third beast collapsed, the ruined city fell silent. The glow of the magical circle slowly faded. Raid remained standing, pausing for a moment. He looked at his right hand. His fingertips were trembling slightly. Not from exhaustion. It was the aftereffect of circuits pushed to full capacity for the first time in years. "...Is it over?" Raid asked quietly. His low voice fell into the silence of the ruined city. Aira was sheathing her sword while quickly confirming the surrounding atmosphere. As a knight, she wouldn't relax until she'd confirmed the threat was eliminated. Her gaze passed over Raid's back once. Then it returned. (That's... different.) She murmured inwardly. Different from when they first met in the village of Kazami. Different from the forty-two-year-old retired mage who complained about back pain and wrapped his own aging in self-deprecating laughter. The figure standing beneath the purple sky of the ruined city, backlit by the lingering glow of the magical circle. Black short hair with white streaks at the back of his head. The scar on his left arm still glowing faintly. In every movement that had dispatched three beasts in succession with overwhelming precision, there was not a trace of rust from the gap in time. The empire's greatest mage. The highest rank granted by the certification of the Tomon Academy—the state magical academy of the imperial capital Verga—from fifteen years ago. By the time Aira had joined the knight order, that name was already legend. Now, in this ruined city, she understood the meaning of those words with her skin. Knowing something as words and seeing it before your eyes were completely different things. (Respect.) Aira categorized it immediately. The natural respect of a knight for one of superior power. Trust in a mission partner. Nothing more, nothing less. She had categorized it. She had, supposedly. But her gaze lingered there a moment longer. "Raid," Lilia said, approaching. She pulled the medicinal herbs from her pocket again, but her expression remained serious. "Your right shoulder has something black on it," she said. *** "It's magical beast body fluid," Aira said. She was already pulling cloth from her equipment as she spoke. There was no hesitation. Infectious disease and corrosive body fluid were basic risk factors in frontier missions. Leaving it untreated was unacceptable. As vice-captain of the vanguard, managing her companions' condition was part of her duties. "There's a possibility it's corrosive. I'll wipe it," Aira said. "Isn't that excessive?" Raid asked. "It is not excessive," Aira replied. "Understood," Raid said. Raid complied without resistance. He'd learned through their not-short acquaintance that obeying Aira's words was the right choice. Aira pressed the cloth to his right shoulder. The black liquid transferred to the fabric. The amount wasn't large. But with the composition of the body fluid unknown, careful treatment was necessary. As her hand moved, Aira concentrated her thoughts on the task. Confirming the contamination range. Managing which parts of the cloth were used. Visual confirmation of the condition after wiping. Raid opened his mouth. "I'd like to say my speed has improved, but I don't think I've reached where I was three years ago," he said. "...You say that after moving like that?" Aira replied. "Back then I did it more easily. Today I was desperate," Raid said. "If that desperation looks like that from the outside, then desperate or not, it's sufficient," Aira said. It was a brief response, but with a softness that wasn't typical of Aira. When Raid made light remarks, Aira usually cut him off more curtly. Today was slightly different. Raid laughed quietly. The sound didn't escape his lips, but the slight relaxation of his shoulder muscles transmitted through the cloth. Aira's hand was moving. The dirt was almost completely gone. No black liquid remained. She just needed to pull the cloth away. That was all. Her hand stopped. By the time she noticed, it had already stopped. There was a sensation transmitted through the cloth. Not the feeling of armor, but the texture of a body after combat. The tension of muscles that had sustained magical power deployment for an extended period. The unique hardness of fatigue that came from continuously channeling atmospheric magical essence—the magical power drifting in the air—through one's body. The body of someone who stood on the battlefield, without softness. Aira slowly became aware of what she was doing. The dirt was gone. The task was complete. There was no reason to continue moving the cloth. She withdrew her hand. Pulled back and stepped one pace behind. She reflexively turned her gaze to the surroundings. Lilia was crouched about ten meters away in the shadow of rubble, tracing the patterns on the stone floor with her finger. She wasn't looking this way. No one was watching. "It's sanitation management required by the mission," Aira said. The words came out. There was no one to hear them. Lilia hadn't turned around. Raid was still facing forward. There was absolutely no reason to explain this to anyone. Silence returned. Raid slowly turned around. His amber eyes looked at Aira. His mouth opened as if to say something. Aira was already facing a different direction. The next passage of the ruined city. Beyond the crumbling buildings. The direction that required vigilance. Things that needed to be confirmed quickly with a knight's eyes—suddenly there were many such things to find. The words Raid had started to say hung in the air and faded. After a pause. Lilia stood up. She lifted her face from the stone patterns and looked at both of them. Her odd eyes—one pale purple, the other a faint amber—looked at Aira for one second, then at Raid for one second. Lilia said nothing. She picked up a pebble and added it to her baggage. That was all. "...Let's move on," Raid said. His voice was low. There was no self-deprecation or complaint mixed in. *** As they moved toward the center of the ruined city, the quality of the air