The cobblestones of the ruined city still bore traces of gravel. Aira couldn't say exactly how much time had passed since the battle ended. Her fingertips still rested on Raid's left arm. Raid didn't pull away. The two of them simply sat side by side atop a crumbling pile of stone, suspended in the silence of the ruined city. It felt as though the orange particles of light that Lilia had left behind still drifted somewhere in the air. Morning light reflected off the white stone walls of the ruined city, scattering finely across the gravel. Aira's reddish-brown hair swayed in the wind. In the distance, Vektor's voice could be heard. Orders for retreat carried across the stone walls of the ruined city. His voice was practical, matter-of-fact, devoid of emotion. The sound of a knight who appeared to be an adjutant running about with a roster in hand echoed through the ruins. "...Under which column should I record that person's name?" the adjutant asked. The adjutant's voice came from the direction where Vektor stood. There was a brief pause. "Create a column for meritorious service," Vektor replied. "...There is no such column," the adjutant said. "Then create one," Vektor said. The adjutant fell silent. The sound of parchment being unrolled. The scratch of a quill. After a moment, a troubled voice reached them again. "I've made an error in writing," the adjutant said. "Use another sheet," Vektor said. "...This one is also slightly bent," the adjutant said. "Bring out a third," Vektor said. As Aira listened to the exchange in the distance, she felt something rising to her lips. An urge to cry, or perhaps to laugh—a sensation she couldn't quite categorize mixed together in her chest. The roster that had prevented her from bringing Raid to the battlefield was now struggling to accept Lilia's name. Each moment of that struggle seemed both earnest and somehow absurd. Aira's fingertips pressed slightly harder against Raid's arm. It was such a small movement that she barely noticed it herself. —————— As the withdrawal preparations neared completion, the sound of a single set of footsteps approached. The footsteps moving between the rubble belonged to a knight. Regular, powerful, but unhurried. It was Vektor. Vektor stood before Aira and Raid, who sat side by side—Aira with her reddish-brown hair tied back, Raid with black hair streaked with white. Vektor looked at Raid for a moment without saying anything. His gaze held neither gratitude nor reproach. It was a quiet look, as if measuring something, confirming something—he held that gaze on Raid for just a second before moving to stand beside Aira. "The unit will withdraw," Vektor said. It wasn't an order. It wasn't a plea either. It was simply the way one opens a door. Aira received those words. No answer came. Vektor didn't continue. He made no gesture of waiting for a response. He simply looked at the stone walls of the ruined city for a moment. Then a faint, bitter smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Live in the place you have chosen," Vektor said. It was brief. That was all. Vektor turned on his heel. "Vektor," Aira called out. Her voice came reflexively. She had been about to offer thanks, she thought. She was sure of it. But the words wouldn't come. Vektor answered without turning back. "Submit a report," he said. "...Is that about the mission?" Aira asked. "Battle records are necessary," Vektor said. Aira remained silent for a while. Then, before she could speak, her lips softened. They both knew that wasn't what he meant to say. And knowing that, he spoke only of reports and walked on. That was the kind of person Vektor was. The sound of the knight order's column passing through the gates of the ruined city echoed out. The scrape of armor, the hoofbeats of horses, voices of command—all gradually fading into the distance. The sound of footsteps on gravel diminished, diminished, and eventually ceased. Only Raid and Aira remained in the ruined city. —————— Silence returned. It should have been the same silence as before, yet it sounded different. While the knights had been present, it was "the silence of someone being there." Now it was "the silence of just the two of them." That difference subtly altered the quality of the air. Aira looked at Raid's profile. His deep amber eyes gazed vaguely at the stone walls of the ruined city. The face of a forty-two-year-old man. White streaks ran through his black hair, and on his left arm remained a faint blue scar from the forbidden technique of magical fusion—the forcible expansion of the magical circuits within the body. The orange warmth that Lilia had restored should still dwell within it. Sunset was beginning to filter through the gaps in the ruins of the ruined city. The battle that had begun in the morning had consumed the entire day without their noticing. Atmospheric mana—the magical essence drifting through the air—glowed as it filtered the orange of the sunset, and the stone walls of the ruined city were quietly dyed in that color. The shadows of Raid and Aira stretched long across the gravel. Aira opened her mouth. "Will you not return to the Old Continent?" she asked. It was phrased as a question. But it wasn't one. Aira herself knew that. She couldn't tell if she was seeking an answer or offering one. Her voice was slightly hoarse. She wanted to blame it on the sunset. Raid turned to face Aira. For a moment, his deep amber eyes met hers. Then he looked forward again. "What will you do?" he asked. It wasn't coercion. It wasn't a test either. For the first time, Aira understood that these were words they were deciding together. The orange of the sunset fell on Aira's cheek. She was aware that her cheek had turned as red as the sunset itself. Before her voice could emerge, she felt her throat tighten slightly. "I will follow wherever you decide to go," Aira said. The moment she spoke the words, she was surprised at herself. It was a different way of speaking than the carefully chosen words she had built up as a knight. Even though she had spoken in honorifics, there was a sense that her armor had grown thinner somehow. Her voice was hoarse. She was aware of it. And she didn't turn away from that hoarseness. Raid fell silent. It was a long silence. As the sunset of the ruined city gradually tilted, Raid said nothing. Aira continued to look at his profile. A silence that was neither answer nor rejection hung in the air of the ruined city. It was the color of silence of someone experiencing, for the first time, something they couldn't decide alone. Then Raid spoke, barely audibly. "My back hurts," he said. Aira didn't understand what he had said for a moment. My back hurts. That was all. It wasn't heroic. It wasn't moving either. After that long silence, what emerged was back pain. Aira laughed. She didn't laugh out loud. But she was definitely laughing. Her lips softened, her shoulders trembled. She tried to suppress it, but couldn't. Aira's small laughter was absorbed into the stone walls of the ruined city. Raid glanced at Aira sideways. He didn't say anything in particular. But there seemed to be something faintly appearing at the corner of his mouth. After Aira's laughter faded, warmth still lingered in her chest. She felt no need to give that warmth a name. Even without a name, she knew it was there. —————— The two of them stood up. Neither confirmed who moved first. They simply found themselves standing. The two shadows that had fallen on the gravel began to move, stretched out as they were. Two sets of footsteps were etched into the weathered cobblestones of the magical continent. Where they were headed was never put into words. Yet the feet moved without words. That itself was the answer. When they reached the outer edge of the ruined city, Aira stopped. Her gaze fixed on the surface of a collapsed city wall. A pattern drawn in traces of magical power remained on the stone surface. Like a child drawing in sand with a finger, a combination of circles and lines. It was barely readable as three human figures. One large, one medium-sized, and one very small. At the feet of the smallest figure, something that appeared to be writing had been added in very small characters. Aira crouched down and drew closer. She tried to read it. But she couldn't. It had the form of ancient demon language, but Aira couldn't decipher it. Raid glanced at it from the side. It wasn't the imperial language. That much was clear. But he said nothing. Aira stood up. She looked at the pattern one more time. When Lilia had carved this here, Aira didn't know. Somewhere in that long battle, she must have quietly touched the stone with her fingertips. The three human figures depicted three people, Aira understood. She also understood who the smallest figure was. Something quiet descended into Aira's chest. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't loneliness either. A gentle resolve, like accepting that sensation as it was, quietly settled into Aira's expression. It felt as though Lilia's voice still drifted there. Dissolved into the atmospheric mana of the ruined city, soaked into the stone walls, scattered as orange particles of light—it felt as though it remained somewhere. It might have been just a feeling. But she could certainly feel it that way. As Aira began to stand, her gaze returned to the feet of the human figure. Beside the small characters, there was something else. It wasn't writing. A small, round shape. Connected to something like a stem. A flower. A flower shape drawn in clumsy lines, but unmistakably a flower. Looking closely, four petals spread from the stem, and beside them were two small leaves. Aira turned back to Raid. Raid was looking at the same thing. "It's a medicinal herb flower, isn't it?" Aira said. Before her voice emerged, she paused to think. That medicinal herb that Lilia had always picked whenever she walked through every corner of the ruined city—the plant that still waited to bloom in the pot on the windowsill of the stone cottage in Kazami Village—Lilia must have known of it. Every time they met, she would peer into it and murmur, "It still hasn't bloomed." Raid looked at the flower on the stone surface. Then he looked at Aira. Then he seemed about to say something and stopped. "...Apparently," Raid said quietly. His voice was low. The usual way of speaking, emotion held in check. But something was mixed into those words. Aira understood that. She had no words to explain it, but she understood it clearly. The two of them stood side by side, looking at the small flower on the stone surface. The sunset of the ruined city fell upon that flower, dyeing it orange. The medicinal herb flower that Lilia had left behind received the light quietly on the stone. Aira's lips softened. Raid's lips, too, softened ever so slightly. Only the atmospheric mana of the ruined city witnessed the two of them smiling. The orange light absorbed into the stone walls seemed to tremble faintly, as if receiving that smile. Footsteps began to move again. Two sets of footsteps stepped across the earth of the magical continent toward the sunset. With each step on the uneven cobblestones, small sounds were left behind in the ruined city. Where they were headed was never put into words. Yet their direction was the same. The three human figures carved into the wall of the ruined city, and the small flower at the feet of the smallest one, watched the two figures' backs recede. Only the question of what the ancient demon language written beside that smallest figure meant remained, quietly suspended in the air of the ruined city.