The mist was thinning. That was the first clue. Centered on the transfer device's pedestal, the dense fog was gradually receding. As if something massive were drawing breath toward this place. Raid stopped at a distance of about ten meters from the stone pedestal and directed his consciousness inward—to the mana circuits within his body, the senses honed through training to perceive magical elements in the atmosphere. The mana was dense. On a completely different scale from what he'd felt at the outer edges of the ruined city. The mana of the magical continent was flowing toward this ruin. And at the end of that flow was the pedestal. "Approaching the device," Aira said quietly. Her lustrous reddish-brown hair was tied back, and her transparent green eyes quickly surveyed the area around the pedestal. Her hand never left the hilt of her sword. The thin scar on her left cheek stood out faintly in the mist's light. Raid nodded. Words weren't necessary. Aira moved in from the left