The Gray Wizard Rises Again Three days after leaving the ruined city. Min and Gen had long since disappeared beyond the mist. They'd left word that they were heading to the ruins first to prepare the transfer device. But what exactly that meant, Raid still couldn't fully process. Gen's words—"To activate the transfer device, we'll need the power of someone who possesses magical power. We need a magic-bearer"—stuck like a grain of sand, refusing to settle. He understood it meant they'd need someone's magical power as a catalyst to operate the ruins' transfer device. But the question of who that "someone" was remained unanswered. The wasteland was shrouded in mist. Visibility didn't extend five meters. The rocky ground crunched beneath his feet. Grass was sparse, and rocks about waist-high floated like vague shadows here and there. The color of the sky was invisible. Whichever direction he looked, white mist stood like a wall. Still, as Raid walked, he naturally maintained awareness of the three people's positions. Aira diagonally behind and to the right. Lilia slightly closer on his left. His internal magical circuit—the sense honed through training to perceive magical essence in the atmosphere—informed him of their presences from within his skin. Since that battle in the ruined city, the circuit's sensitivity had been returning. The sensation he'd used naturally three years ago was coming back, bit by bit, little by little. Lilia spun around. "The mist is so thick," she said, her silver short bob threatening to dissolve into the white haze, her odd eyes—one pale purple, the other a faint amber—gleaming. "The northern side of the demon tribe's collective domain—the area east of the empire where demons live—has a lot of mist like this, or so I heard long ago. Apparently the mist gets deeper when the magical essence in the atmosphere is concentrated," Raid replied. "So there's a lot of magical essence here?" Lilia asked. "Probably," Raid said. Lilia laughed softly and turned forward. She reached her hand into the mist and made a gesture as if stirring it with her fingertips. Like she was trying to grasp something invisible. It was an innocent, pure gesture—the kind that made you want to protect her. Aira watched quietly from slightly behind. Her green eyes followed Lilia's movements. Then, a beat later, they shifted to Raid's back. The black short hair with white streaks at the nape. The pale blue scar hidden beneath his left sleeve—the mark of a magical circuit damaged by magical fusion. Aira still remembered the look Gen had directed at that spot just before they left the ruined city. A glance lasting less than a second. As if calculating something, but with no expression on his face—that gaze. "A magic-bearer is needed to activate the transfer device." Those words, the scar, and that gaze accumulated in the depths of Aira's chest with the same density as the mist. If the device's activation required someone's magical power as a catalyst—if the "someone" Gen had been looking at was the bearer of that scar. It remained there, something that would crumble before it could be put into words. The sound of footsteps on stone faded into the mist—three sets of them. *** The tremor came suddenly. Vibrations crawling up from the soles of their feet. There was rhythm to it. Regular, but violent. The sound of stones being kicked up echoed from the right side of the mist, then from the left as well. Raid stopped. In the next moment, his circuit had deployed. Reading the flow of magical essence in the atmosphere. Changes in density. The disturbance in air currents caused by living things moving. One, two, three—multiple. And all their movements were directed at a single point. Lilia. He raised his right hand without a word. Aira was already moving. She drew her sword and positioned herself between Lilia and Raid. Raid deployed his magical power toward the head of the pack—they'd decided on a two-pronged strategy without words, and in that instant, a massive shadow emerged from the mist. Over two meters at the shoulder. Four-legged, but with elongated front limbs, claws making a low scraping sound each time they touched stone. Eyes glowing yellow. The first one charged at Raid. Compressed magical power released directly at the base of its front limb, and the shadow collapsed onto the stone. The second came at Aira. Her sword arced, deflecting the claws. The third came from the right. Lilia tried to cry out. "—!" she gasped. Nothing came out. Something caught in her throat. A fragment of dried medicinal herb she'd unconsciously kept in her pocket since yesterday had slipped to the back of her throat when she tried to speak, lodging there completely. Lilia coughed violently. Once, twice, three times. There was no warning cry. The third creature's claws were closing in from behind Aira. Aira spun around. Her body moved reflexively. She swept her sword horizontally, deflecting the claws. Metal rang. She nearly lost her balance, then planted her feet firmly. The third creature growled low and withdrew. Coughing, Lilia was bent over. Her shoulders shook, eyes watering. Aira quickly confirmed the third creature's position, then sent a look toward Lilia. It was a gaze mixing exasperation and relief in equal measure. "The dried medicinal herbs are confiscated," Aira said in a quiet, uncompromising voice. "I'm sor—cough cough," Lilia managed. In the mist, the air relaxed for just a moment. That moment, the mist used. Silently. Without warning. From the outer edge of the mist, another one came. Smaller than the others. Faster. While all three of their gazes were fixed on the third creature, in that single beat of an opening— "Lilia!" Raid shouted. It was already too late. Not claws. Jaws. Not biting Lilia's arm, but seizing the hem of her outer coat—and pulling. For just an instant, Lilia's body lifted, her feet left the ground, and her silver short bob was swallowed by the white of the mist. Only Lilia's scream continued into the depths of the mist. "Raid—!" she cried. That voice was absorbed by the mist and vanished. *** They started running almost simultaneously. Which one went first didn't matter. Toward the direction where Lilia's voice had disappeared, both of them ran into the mist. There was no dialogue. There was no need. Aira indicated with her palm the terrain change on the left—a continuous stretch of rocks about waist-high. Raid nodded and entered first. Aira covered the blind spot to his right. The coordination of circling the rocks without losing speed functioned with surprising naturalness. This wasn't a movement pattern taught in the training of the Imperial Knights—the elite of the regular army that formed the Armor Heron Knights—Aira knew as she ran. It was the unspoken rhythm they'd built up over these past few days: the battle in the ruined city, the escape through the Ash Corridor, the night at Eagle Pass. With each day, the things they could understand without words increased. Aira tried to immediately dismiss that fact. The dismissal came a beat too late. Raid stopped in the mist. His eyes were closed. His right hand held horizontally at waist height, something unfolding from his core. His magical circuit—the pathway naturally embedded in his body to handle magical essence from the atmosphere—was being used to read the presence around them. The tracking technique of the empire's foremost mage. Aira found herself looking directly at his profile. Standing in the mist with his eyes closed. Black hair with white streaks. The scar beneath his left sleeve glowing faintly. The back standing in the light of the magic circle in the ruined city overlapped for just an instant. That movement, the precision with which he'd eliminated three creatures in succession. —She turned her gaze forward. The turning came late. She searched for a reason. The mist was thick, visibility ahead was poor, terrain confirmation was necessary—any number of reasons came to mind. But none of them explained why she'd continued watching his profile, and Aira knew that better than anyone. Raid opened his eyes. Right, his mouth formed silently. Aira was already facing right. The information arrived after her body had already moved. Aira processed that fact silently, as merely the number of footprints in the mist. Don't think. Just run now. A large rock shelf appeared ahead. About chest height. If they climbed over it, they could descend on the other side. Raid jumped up first and stood on top. He turned back and extended his hand. It was a natural motion. Without hesitation, an obvious hand. Aira grasped it. She was pulled up. Her body lifted for an instant. Even through the leather gloves, the certainty of his grip transmitted. The tension of muscles supporting her weight. The sensation of a forty-two-year-old mage's hand, undiminished even after the battle in the ruined city. She landed on the rock shelf. She should have released his hand. The timing had come. She'd landed—that was the signal. The hand released a moment late. Raid was already facing forward. Aira faced forward too. The back of her neck was slightly warm. —It was for weight distribution stability during the landing. A rock shelf descent had impact, so confirming your center of gravity while being supported by someone was a rational decision. That's what that motion was. She knew better than anyone how thin that reasoning was. A voice reached them from beyond the mist. "Raid—! Aira—!" Lilia called. She was alive. Both of them quickened their pace. *** Where the mist thinned, it appeared. A cluster of stone structures. A collapsed tower. Walls crumbled to waist height. No moss, no plant encroachment, just time accumulated like ash—a gray ruin. And on its ground—geometric patterns were carved. The same type of design she'd seen in the Ash Corridor. The same as what she'd seen in the center of the ruined city. An imprint from an era so old, so ancient, that the empire's official records contained only fragments of it. And at the center of that pattern—a stone pedestal stood. The device mounted on the pedestal was half-destroyed. But its form remained. Connected metal rings and a hollow at their center. Raid could sense through his magical perception that materials responsive to magical power had been used. A transfer device. Raid stopped. Aira stopped too. Their eyes met simultaneously as they recognized it. "Raid—! Over here, over here—!" Lilia's silver short bob came flying out from beyond the pedestal. She was running toward them. Her outer coat had light scratch marks on the hem, but otherwise she was unharmed. The magical beast had withdrawn behind the pedestal—or perhaps it had gone somewhere else. Lilia threw herself at Raid's coat. "I was worried!" Raid said. "I was more worried!" Lilia replied. The exchange faded into the mist. Aira watched the scene from the side, then turned her gaze back to the stone pedestal. A magical beast's nest in the ruins. A transfer device at its center. The pack had targeted Lilia and—brought her here. It wasn't coincidence. The moment that thought formed, Raid was thinking the same thing. His eyebrows moved slightly. That was all. But Aira read it. Between them, agreement was established without words. "There's a transfer device here too," Aira said. "Yeah," Raid replied. His voice was low. Not confirmation, but words to begin thinking together. Lilia lifted her face from Raid's coat. She looked toward the pedestal. Her odd eyes caught the stone carved with geometric patterns. Her mouth moved slightly—something recognized but not vocalized. "This is..." Lilia began. "Do you understand it?" Raid asked. "I don't understand. But it feels like I know it," Lilia said. Lilia's brows furrowed. Pure confusion. But beneath that confusion, something else was visible. Not fear, not curiosity, but something closer to the root.