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. Raid walked toward the pedestal from the front. A silver short bob followed from behind—Lilia. Her odd eyes scanned beyond the mist without negligence, yet a faint hint of anticipation played at the corners of her mouth. This girl had always let curiosity take precedence, even in tense situations. Five meters to the pedestal. Geometric patterns carved into the stone pavement spread continuously from beneath Raid's feet. The same type of ancient inscriptions he'd seen at the center of the ruined city. Traces of a civilization from long ago, preserved only fragmentarily in the Empire's official records. With each step across those patterns, the scar on his left arm—the mark of mana circuits damaged by mana fusion—began to generate heat. It was responding. The device was sensing Raid's mana. He placed his hand on the pedestal. —It came. The sensation of mana circuits within his body opening all at once. The mana of the magical continent flowed in through the scar on his left arm as if in reverse current. A sense of exhilaration and, beneath it, a faint smell of something burning away existed simultaneously. This was it. The sensation the instructors at the Illumination Institute called forbidden techniques and despised—that contradictory sense of fulfillment where the depths of one's body were seared while simultaneously being filled. The circuits filled. The device began to respond. Aira watched this from the side. The sleeve of Raid's left arm, as he pressed both hands against the pedestal, glowed faintly. A blue-white scar's light. The moment that entered her vision, several memories overlapped within Aira. That glance Gen had cast during their journey to the ruin, lasting less than a second. The words: "A mana bearer is necessary to activate the transfer device." Raid's back as he stood before the magic circle in the ruined city. A single line connected. "..." Aira's mouth opened slightly. She was about to say something. But before the words came out, her feet had already moved forward. Whether she was trying to stop herself or trying to stay close, her body moved without her own judgment. (It's a vigilance response required by the mission. Confirming the condition of the caster during spell activation is—) "Oh, by the way," Lilia said suddenly. She spoke in her usual tone, completely oblivious to the atmosphere. "When the caster's putting mana into the device, they can't move, right?" "That's correct. Breaking the connection will cause the activation to fail," Raid replied, his low voice returning from the direction of the pedestal. "Then while Raid can't move, me and Aira will protect him!" Lilia's face brightened instantly, and she moved to stand beside Aira. She made a gesture of gathering biotic mana—the ability unique to the demon race to directly manipulate magical elements within their body—into her palm, her expression looking remarkably dependable. A sixteen-year-old silver-haired girl taking on the face of a guardian was purely adorable. Aira felt the corner of her mouth rise slightly. "You should step back," Aira said. "Why!? I can fight too!" Lilia protested. "Have you forgotten the dried herb incident?" Aira asked. "...I remember," Lilia said, pouting her lips in frustration. The incident where she'd coughed and failed to give a warning while being chased by magical beasts in the mist seemed to weigh heavily on her. The corner of Raid's mouth relaxed slightly from beyond the pedestal. "Get along with each other. I need to concentrate now," Raid said, his voice low and calm. The mana infusion into the device began in earnest. The connected metal rings of the pedestal began to glow one by one in sequence. A slow white light leaked from the hollow center. The geometric patterns spread across the ground, and the stone pavement beneath their feet grew warm from the soles up. The surrounding mist was thinning. Driven back by the light. At the same time, something moved within the mist. Aira noticed it. To the left. Fifteen meters from the pedestal. Where the mist had cleared, there were yellow points of light in the darkness beyond. One, two, three—four. Eyes. "They're coming," Aira said. The sound of a sword being drawn. Lilia stepped back. Raid didn't move. Couldn't move. Maintaining the connection, he simply kept his hands on the pedestal. The first one charged. Four legs, each over two meters at the shoulder. The sound of claws scraping stone echoed through the ruin. Aira stepped forward and swept her sword horizontally. The curved blade deflected the front leg. The impact transmitted through her arm. Heavy. But the trajectory was altered. The second one came. It was aiming toward Lilia. Lilia quickly raised her hand. Everyone thought she was about to release her biotic mana— There was a sound. Pshhh. An almost silent, pathetic whiff. "Huh!?" Lilia exclaimed. "You've overused it!" Aira said. Aira quickly pivoted and deflected the second one's front leg with the flat of her blade. She braced against the heavy impact. The third one was closing in from the right. Aira repositioned her sword— "Lilia, a stone!" Raid called out. "A stone?" Lilia asked. "On the ground!" Raid said. Lilia looked at her feet. Stone fragments were scattered around the pedestal. If the material was non-metallic—everyone already knew that the magnetic-fang beasts possessed the ability to draw metal toward them with magnetic force. Lilia quickly picked up a stone and threw it with all her strength. It struck the third one directly on the nose. The third one staggered. Hit in the face by the stone fragment, its movement stopped for just a moment. "I hit it!!" Lilia cried out. "That was luck," Aira said. "Luck counts too!" Lilia replied. In the mist, the air relaxed for just an instant. Aira used that gap to drive the third one away. She repositioned her sword before the first one could close the distance again. Her breathing wasn't ragged. There was physical fatigue, but her judgment wasn't dulled. The stability honed through days of combat. The device's light was growing stronger. Raid could feel it. The circuits were nearly full. Just a little more, just a bit more mana pushed in and— Something growled low in the depths of the mist. The quality of the sound was different from the four that had come before. Aira heard it too. Her body went rigid at the same moment. Before judgment could form, her skin sensed the danger—a sensation she'd experienced hundreds of times in the training of the Armor Heron Knights—and the memories of that sensation being correct far outnumbered the exceptions. It came from the outer edge of the mist. It was noticeably larger than the individuals that had appeared before. Its movements were faster. The time it took to lock onto a target was shorter. And that target was— Aira. It was diving at her with precise intent. Aira positioned her sword. She spread her feet to brace for impact. She measured the distance—it was coming— Raid threw himself forward. He moved his body in a rolling motion to the side while maintaining the spell connection to the pedestal. He suppressed the sensation of the connection being torn apart with mana, inserting his body between Aira and the diving creature. Claws tore through his outer coat. They reached skin. Below the shoulder blade on his back. The pain of being torn rather than pierced came with a delay. In that instant—the device released its full light. It was a white torrent. More than light, it was as if space itself was being painted white. All the geometric patterns blazed at once, light erupted from the hollow center of the pedestal like a pillar, and it enveloped the three of them. The world disappeared. *** There was light. That was all Aira could discern. She couldn't tell if her feet were on stone pavement or in mist anymore. Everything in front of her was white. The ruin, the mist, the magical beasts—all gone, only white light remained. And—there was warmth. Not through her armor. Not through the fabric of her coat. When her posture collapsed in the impact of the transfer, someone's arm caught her. The angle of the arm, its weight, and body heat. The direct temperature and weight transmitted without the barrier of leather gloves. Raid. She knew without words. Something pulsed intensely in her chest. Aira immediately tried to process it as the unique sensation of transfer. As the effect of the extraordinary moment within the light. But. The weight of the arm was real. The body heat was real. (I haven't yet allowed myself to give a name to this sensation.) Aira thought this. She wouldn't allow it. Not within the light. She decided not to allow it. She remained immersed in the whiteness for a time whose duration she couldn't measure. It might have been a second. It might have been ten. The light receded. *** The air changed. Raid felt it first. Not the thick, slightly fishy-smelling air of the magical continent. It was dry, cold, and carried a familiar scent—the air of the eastern Empire, of the old continent. The ground beneath them changed from stone pavement to soil. The sky was overcast gray, and there were no two suns. Beyond the horizon, the hazy silhouette of a mountain range was visible. The Jade Peak Range. No doubt about it. They were back. The moment that recognition touched his body, it gave way. His knees buckled. "Raid!" Aira's voice came from above. Her arm was already extended. But it came just slightly too late. Raid dropped to one knee, pressing his right hand against the soil to stop himself from collapsing further. (So all the mana from the magical continent drains the moment we return to the old continent.) It seemed his body had been relying on that mana more than he'd realized. With three years of inactivity, the mana consumption of these past few days was—honestly, harsh. "It's nothing serious," Raid said. "Don't speak," Aira replied. Her voice was trembling slightly. Raid noticed. Aira had moved behind him and was reaching to pull back his coat. She was trying to check the torn section. While her words said "don't speak," her hands moved quickly. There was no hesitation. She was already calculating the priority of treatment—the movements of a knight. But her voice, faintly, certainly, was trembling. Raid said nothing. "...It's deep," Aira said quietly. Her voice was small. As Aira peered through the tear in his coat, her expression froze. Something left her green eyes, and something else entered in its place. Something she was trying to suppress but couldn't quite contain. "Raid!!" Lilia called out. Lilia came running, stumbling from the impact of the transfer. Her silver short bob was disheveled. Her odd eyes were glistening—she was on the verge of tears. "Show me the wound! I can heal it!" Lilia said. Lilia dropped to her knees and extended both hands toward Raid's back. She was trying to use her biotic healin