The treatment had finally settled as the morning light of the Old Continent began to faintly tint the overcast sky. Lilia remained bent forward, both hands resting on her knees. The fingertips that had been trembling moments ago now lay still upon her lap. A quiet exhaustion—the kind that comes from depleting one's healing magic entirely—emanated from the silver-haired girl. Not tired, exactly, but drained of power. Raid rose slowly from his kneeling position. A dull heat lingered across his back. The wound wasn't completely closed yet. But it wasn't bad enough to prevent movement. (So this is what the morning here is like.) The air of the Old Continent was cold deep in his lungs. Without the high-density atmospheric mana that had permeated the Demon Continent, his body felt oddly light and heavy at once—a strange sensation. The fact of his return was gradually settling into his body. Aira stood motionless, her gaze sweeping once around the three of them. Her lustrous reddish-brown hair was tied back, and her transparent green eyes moved from east to west. A habit from her time as vice-commander of the advance guard. Almost unconsciously, she was checking for any hostile presences in this location immediately after the transfer. Once her confirmation was complete, she turned toward Raid. She said nothing. All three understood what that silence meant. They had returned. There were wounds. The healing was slow. That was all. For now, they simply needed to be here. As the heavy silence began to settle over the space, a rustling sound broke through. Lilia was rummaging through her belongings. Raid and Aira's gazes turned toward her simultaneously. Lilia's hands, still bent forward, froze as they found something in her pack. What she pulled out was a small cloth pouch. Aira's eyes narrowed. "...That is—" "Dried medicinal herbs," Lilia answered without looking up. Her voice wavered slightly, but her words were clear. "The ones that were confiscated are gone, but I had a backup pouch. I didn't throw it away even when we were walking through the mist. ...Ehehe." That final "ehehe" came out with tears in her eyes. She'd meant it as a joke, but the sound alone came out foolish. Aira opened her mouth. "This is hardly the time for—" Before she could finish, Raid was already reaching out without a word. He took a single dried herb from the pouch Lilia offered and placed it in his mouth. He chewed quietly. Aira stopped. She looked between Raid and Lilia in turn, then exhaled shortly and, also without a word, reached out. She took a dried herb and brought it to her lips. "...Bitter," Aira said. "Is it? I'm used to it now," Lilia replied. Lilia's mouth moved slightly, her eyes still glistening with tears. Not quite a smile—more the expression of someone who had found relief. The three of them chewed dried medicinal herbs in the cold morning light of the Old Continent. Just as they had in the first moments after arriving on the Demon Continent. They were confirming the fact of their return not through words, but through action. That moment continued quietly for a while. *** "I need to check your bandages," Aira said once the bitterness of the herbs had settled in her mouth. "The dressing on your back wound may have shifted from the impact of the transfer." Raid didn't respond. But he loosened the front of his coat slightly. That meant he wouldn't stop her. Aira moved behind him. She needed to slip her hand inside his coat. To check the position of the back wound and the state of the bandaging, she couldn't confirm it from the outside. As a matter of medical necessity, Aira had completely rationalized the reason for this action. She removed her leather gloves. Bare hands would be more accurate for assessing the fine state of the cloth. She slid her hand inside the coat. Her fingertips touched the edge of the bandage. The position was slightly off to the right. Whether from the impact of the transfer or from that moment when Raid had thrown himself in front of Aira—it didn't matter. What mattered now was refixing it. Her fingertips traced the bandage. The temperature of the skin at the wound's edge transmitted to her directly for the first time since arriving here. Body heat unobstructed by leather gloves. Aira moved without hesitation. She was moving—until the moment her fingertips felt the skin's temperature, and something overlapped for just a single beat. The weight of the arms that had caught her as she stumbled in the transfer light. That body heat and weight. The sensation unobstructed by leather gloves. Now, through her fingertips again— Aira kept her eyes forward and continued moving. She carefully adjusted the edge of the bandage and confirmed the fixation. Swift and precise, she completed the treatment as a knight would. She withdrew her hand. Once her hand was outside the coat, Aira held it still in front of her. For less than a second, she looked at her palm. She tried to process what that gaze meant as a matter of duty. But the basis for that processing was thin. She knew it better than anyone. "The fixation is secure," Aira said. Her voice was as it always was. Lilia had been watching the scene from the corner of her eye. "If I had more power," Lilia said quietly—to herself rather than to anyone else. "Even with all that time, I couldn't heal it completely. If I had more mana, I could have closed it all faster, all the way through." Lilia's bio-healing magic—the tissue-repair ability that the demon race possessed, directly linked to their own physical strength—was functioning. But the recovery speed of the wound hadn't increased. By the time that should have long since closed the surface, the edges of the wound were closing only slowly. Lilia felt it too. Aira remained silent. She wasn't unaware of the slow healing. Quite the opposite. Because she was aware, she didn't speak. Mana fusion—the technique designated as forbidden two hundred years ago by the Imperial National Academy of Magic, the Luminous Seal Institute. By forcibly expanding the mana circuits within the body and directly synchronizing with atmospheric mana, one could achieve several times the normal output, but the circuits would wear away in a state close to charring. That wear was manifesting externally as delayed healing. A single line connected within Aira. From the moment it connected, she had kept it unspoken. Because the moment she put it into words, it would take on the weight of reality. Not emotion—reason knew this. Raid was looking into the distance. The Emerald Peak Range—the natural mountain range that formed the eastern border of the Empire—had its ridgeline sinking into the haze. A gray overcast sky. Not the two suns of the Demon Continent, not the abnormal density of mana. The familiar sky of the Empire. "You did enough," Raid said quietly. His low voice fell softly. The words were directed at Lilia. There was nothing more to say. But it was enough. Lilia, still bent forward, nodded slightly. Her silver bob swayed. *** "...Lamb stew," Lilia said after a long silence. "When we get back, I want to eat the lamb stew from the Red Tile Tavern. And medicinal herb liquor too. Oh, but I can't drink the herb liquor, just smell it." The Red Tile Tavern—the only inn and bar in Wind-View Village, where the proprietor Toba's lamb stew was famous—was mentioned by Lilia with no preamble whatsoever. The gap between the heavy silence and Lilia's statement created an atmosphere that was less funny than it was characteristic of these three. Raid answered briefly. "Not bad." His voice was low, emotions suppressed. But it wasn't a rejection. Rather, something soft was mixed into those words. Lilia lifted her face. Her odd eyes—one pale purple, the other a faint amber—brightened slightly. "Then it's decided! The Red Tile Tavern first when we get back!" "There is a mission report to submit to the advance guard first," Aira said. "Ugh," Lilia groaned. "Not 'ugh,'" Aira replied. Aira's tone was as always—crisp, clear, emotions held in check. But her response came slightly faster than usual. Just a bit faster. Lilia didn't notice that speed. Aira noticed. She noticed that her own response had been fast. And in that moment of noticing, something moved in her chest again. It was becoming words. It was becoming words, and she stopped it. Aira stopped it from within. That word's outline was now approaching a name for the first time. But without witnessing that name— Aira's gaze turned to the northwestern sky. A signal fire. Distant. Very distant. Smoke was rising from somewhere far away. Northwest—from the direction of the East Corridor Fortress, the Empire's frontier garrison. The East Corridor Fortress was positioned approximately one hundred forty kilometers northwest of Wind-View Village and housed a standing force of eight hundred soldiers. The signal fires from there were used to convey information about troop movements. Aira's eyes narrowed. The way the smoke rose, its color, its intervals. She tried to read them. They might indicate the movements of the main Imperial Army unit, the Steel Corridor Brigade. The name Groass—the brigade commander and Raid's old friend—passed through Aira's thoughts once. Raid glanced once in the direction of the signal fire. His expression narrowed. There was something in it like he was reading something, yet had decided to say nothing—a complex quietness. That alone made it clear that Raid saw the same thing. Lilia hadn't noticed. "Can we make it by tonight?" she asked. "...Uncertain," Raid replied. "Even at a slow pace, it will take three days," Aira said. "Three days!? That's farther than I thought!" Lilia exclaimed. "The transfer device's exit point in the Demon Continent wasn't set to be right beside Wind-View Village," Aira explained. "Why couldn't we choose where the exit was!?" Lilia demanded. "The device chose it. We did not," Aira replied. Lilia made a dissatisfied face. She wasn't convinced, but she had no basis for argument. Raid muttered lowly. "Well, we made it back to the Old Continent at all. We could have landed anywhere." "That's true. It is true, but—" Lilia said. "What do you mean, 'it is true, but'?" Aira asked. "I just felt like saying it!" Lilia replied. That atmosphere had returned. The usual atmosphere of these three. Where seriousness and laughter mixed at the same temperature, an atmosphere no one else could create. Aira looked once more at the northwestern sky. The signal fire was still rising. Something was beginning to move. That premonition alone was quietly taking on certainty beneath the gray overcast sky. The relief of return hadn't yet fully settled into her body. The wound wasn't completely closed. And the thing in her chest that was approaching a name—still had no name. Aira turned her gaze forward. Lilia tried to stand and her knees wavered. Raid extended his hand without a word. Lilia grasped it and stood with no hesitation. There was no uncertainty left in that motion between them. Aira watched the scene from beside them. Something warm and slightly heavy existed simultaneously in her chest. She would not put that duality into words. Not yet. The three of them began walking toward Wind-View Village beneath the gray sky of the Old Continent.