White light disappeared. With a dull thud, Aira's body was slammed onto the grass. For a moment, nothing made sense. She looked at the sky. Gray clouds hung overhead. Not humid. The smell of dry grass. Wind swept across from the side. The roaring sound that had lingered in her ears gradually faded away. (…The eastern part of the empire.) She pushed herself up. Slowly. The burn mark running across her bare right shoulder stung as it touched the air. The shattered remains of her shoulder guard had been left on the floor of the ruined city. In their place, a red scar was etched beneath her coat. Aira remained on her knees, surveying the grassland. Dry grass stretched endlessly. Before the horizon, the gentle ridge of a low hill continued on. It was a familiar sight. Her body had already judged it to be terrain near the empire's frontier. It was probably quite far south of Kazamidai, but she knew the direction. She tried to stand. She put strength into her knees. Nothing happened.