Reid, once a renowned archmage of the empire, is now 42 and living in secluded retirement in the remote village of Kazami. His glory days are behind him, and he's treated with mild pity by the village youth. When rumors of an imperial invasion from the east threaten the borderlands, the village girls dismiss his concerns. Witnessing ominous signs, Reid resolves to protect his fragile peace.
The problem is his declined body and magic. He turns to a forbidden art: 'Mana Fusion,' a technique that
"The Gray Sorcerer Rises Again" - The Price of Rust and the Warmth of a Hand — Three Fires Lit on the Night of the Beast
見張り台の下で、三センチの距離がそのままに終わった夜だった。
東の空の赤みは消えなかった。むしろ夜が深まるにつれて、碧峯連山——帝国東部の自然国境をなす山脈——の稜線の向こうが、じわりと濃くなっていくようだった。暁爪の潮——東方諸国からの大規模な魔獣移動現象で、数年に一度の周期で押し寄せ、その先触れとして東の空が血の色に染まると言われる——が、越鳥峠の先で何かを始めている。距離にして東へ六十キロ。馬なら丸一日の道のりだが、魔獣の脚なら話が違う。
Raid could not sleep after returning to the cottage.
He stopped trying to figure out why. His lower back ached. That hadn't changed. The plateau grew cold at night. That hadn't changed either. He left the spell manuscript open on the desk, turned down the lamp wick, and lay down.
So it was the sound he noticed first.
A low, reverberating vibration. Transmitted through the ground—a rhythmic heaviness.
(They're here.)
Raid jolted upright. It took less than a second.
* * *
The moment he opened the door, he came face-to-face with Aira.
She was in full armor. Chest plate fastened over her leather armor, sword at her hip. She held the advance guard's signal whistle in one hand, and her green eyes looked straight at Raid. Those eyes were nothing like the three-centimeter distance of last night—now they held the pure gaze of the battlefield.
Aira's gaze moved slowly from top to bottom across Raid.
Three seconds.
Raid checked his own appearance. His shirt buttons were reversed—the third and fourth buttons were fastened wrong. And his boots—they were on the wrong feet. Left boot on his right foot, right boot on his left foot. Now he understood why his left toes felt so cramped.
"I got up in three seconds. You can praise me."
Aira did not praise him. Without a word, she stepped forward half a pace and stood directly in front of Raid. Then she reached out both hands to his shirt buttons and began correcting the misalignment.
Raid didn't move. More precisely, he had no time to move. Aira's fingers were certain. She checked from top to bottom, unfastened the third button, and refastened it to the fourth. Throughout, Aira didn't look up. Her chin slightly lowered, she worked with only her fingertips.
Close.
It was a distance where body heat reached. Aira's breath flowed near Raid's neck. The memory of last night's watchtower flashed for an instant, and Raid quietly pushed it away.
All the buttons were fixed. Aira stepped back.
"Please refasten your boots yourself."
"...I don't need to be told."
While Raid removed and refastened his boots, Aira spoke.
"Magnetfang beasts—large magical creatures that draw metal equipment toward them with magnetic force—seven confirmed. Coming from the east side of the plateau edge. The advance guard's swords—"
"Will be drawn in. I understand."
Magnetfang beasts were particularly troublesome among the magical creatures migrating from the east with the Dawnfang Tide. Beyond their massive frames—shoulder height exceeding human stature—they possessed the ability to magnetically attract metal, making them increasingly dangerous the closer steel-wielding soldiers approached. Seven of them meant the advance guard couldn't handle a direct confrontation.
"We've arranged wooden weapons. The village men also—"
"I'll go after I've properly fastened my boots."
Aira fell silent for a beat. Then she simply said, "Please hurry." and went outside first.
As Raid tied the laces of his right boot, he suddenly noticed something. Aira's fingers, while fixing his buttons, had trembled slightly. Not from tension, not from cold—perhaps she had noticed. The blue scar on Raid's left arm, visible even through his shirt.
He stopped thinking about it. He stood and went outside.
* * *
When they reached the east side of the plateau, several torches held by villagers were already swaying.
Young soldiers from the advance guard stood in a line inside the fence, holding wooden stakes. Five of them. Their faces were pale. Understandably so. A single magnetfang beast was considered as dangerous as three knights; seven of them moving as a pack was a different matter entirely.
"Don't draw your swords under any circumstances."
Aira spoke low and sharp. The soldiers nodded. Her voice carried no emotion. It was calm, conveying only instructions.
The ground was trembling.
Raid stood at the plateau's edge and calculated the direction of the vibrations in the darkness. Coming from the east. Not straight—slightly to the north. If seven beasts maintained a pack formation, they would spread somewhat between front and rear.
"Don't scatter. Stay together."
"If we bunch up, the magnetic force—"
"Stay together. I'll handle it."
Aira fell silent for a second. During that second, she considered something, then closed her mouth.
The first beast appeared at the edge of the torchlight.
A black mass. Shoulder height approximately 1.8 meters. Thick limbs, low head. Two eyes reflecting the flame's color, glowing dully. Its nostrils were flared. It was sniffing.
One of the soldiers gripped the wooden stake in his hand tightly. The sound of creaking wood.
"Don't move."
A quiet voice. The soldier froze.
Raid closed his eyes.
He opened the magical circuits within his body. The blue scar on his left arm began to radiate heat. Through the circuit, he drew in atmospheric magical essence. The sensation that normally flowed smoothly—tonight was different.
Rust.
There was a sensation of something catching on the inner wall of the circuit. Each time magical power flowed, friction was created there, and excess heat scattered. Efficiency was poor. Three years of seclusion had caused the circuit to deteriorate significantly. He knew that. Knowing it, he still opened it.
Lilia's voice came from behind.
"Mister, go for it!"
Lilia had arrived at some point. She'd apparently rushed out from the cottage doorway, her silver short bob floating in the torchlight. Her odd eyes—one pale purple and the other pale amber—looked straight at Raid.
(Truly. The child has too keen an eye for observation.)
Raid almost smiled, but suppressed it before the expression could form.
He forced the depths of the circuit open.
The atmosphere around him suddenly changed in quality. The density of the air felt against his skin increased. The magical circuits beneath his skin began to glow white, approaching platinum in color. It was clearly a different dimension from the "tarnished silver" radiance Aira had seen in the second chapter. That had been merely leaking light. This was fusion.
Aira took three steps back. Her expression didn't change. Only her green eyes precisely captured the light from Raid's left arm.
The atmosphere compressed. Using the bedrock at the plateau's edge as a medium, directional blast pressure formed—Raid calculated its distribution across seven points in less than a second. Three years ago, he would have been faster. Now it took a second. That was proof of the rust.
"Get down!"
Everyone dropped to the ground.
The blast pressure was released.
It wasn't sound—it was pressure. The plateau's stone cried out, the air split, and seven columns of compressed atmosphere raced eastward into the darkness.
Seven beasts were blown away simultaneously.
The sound of heavy impacts came from far away. Then silence followed. Not complete silence, but only the east wind crossing the plateau remained. One of the advance guard soldiers cautiously raised his head.
"...All of them?"
Aira stood up as she spoke.
Suppressed. All seven. Perfect.
Which was why no one could respond when Raid collapsed.
His knees buckled. Without sound, without warning. At the next breath after the magical fusion release completed, Raid's body tilted toward the stone pavement. Sideways. Slowly. As if something supporting him had vanished in an instant.
* * *
Aira reached him first.
She dropped to her knees. Reflexively. The battlefield motion of approaching a fallen soldier.
She lifted Raid's upper body. Her bare hand touched his neck to support it.
In that instant—Aira's palm stopped.
It was cold.
Not human body temperature. Cold like the stone floor. The body temperature after excessive magical power release, when blood had drained away. Still alive. Breathing was present. But that coldness transmitted through her palm told Aira to "check quickly."
She pressed her ear to his chest.
A heartbeat was there. But—it was irregular. The rhythm collapsed at a ratio of one beat in three. The cardiac arrhythmia that occurred after excessive load on the magical circuits. Aira had received field first aid training as a knight, so she understood what it meant.
Her arms tensed.
It wasn't "treatment procedure." It was an urgent act of confirming he was alive. Aira's breathing was controlled, but to maintain that control, the muscles in her arms had gone rigid. The sensation of the irregular heartbeat transmitted from her ear through her arms.
Raid's eyes opened.
Barely. Just barely. His amber eyes reflected Aira's profile, which was close beside him.
Aira didn't look up. Despite noticing, she didn't.
The sound of sand being stepped on. Lilia's running footsteps.
Lilia stopped. Her eyes looked at Aira. A question in her gaze—what should I do?
Aira froze for a moment.
Then, quietly, she withdrew. Without words. Just pulled back her body, creating space.
That was consent.
Lilia's hands were placed on Raid's chest.
The biological healing magic of the demon race—the ability to directly transfer one's own magical essence to wounds or damaged tissue—began to flow through the skin. Lilia's skin took on even higher heat than usual. Demon body temperature was already higher than humans. When concentrated on healing, it rose further. Faintly luminescent, the area around Lilia's palms glowed white.
Aira stood at a slight distance. Arms crossed. In silence.
The color returned gradually to Raid's lips.
The irregularity in his heartbeat began to regain its rhythm. The skip that had been one beat in three became one in four, then one in five—gradually approaching uniformity. Lilia's expression hardened with concentration. Sweat beaded on her forehead. She was directly consuming her body's vitality for the healing. Aira could see that clearly.
Aira watched.
Arms crossed, unmoving.
The demon girl was depleting her own life's warmth to keep this man tethered to existence. Until three days ago, she had been considering whether to restrain and hand over this very person, and now she was making this face—
Something inside Aira cracked once, like the sound of a fissure.
She tried to seal it immediately. It didn't seal properly.
Lilia looked up. Her shoulders had dropped slightly. Depleted. But her eyes were clear.
"Armor lady, you could've stood closer if you wanted."
Aira didn't hesitate for even a second.
"The distance was appropriate."
She stated it as fact.
Lilia tilted her head in confusion. Raid, with his eyes barely open, moved the corner of his lips slightly. Whether it was the beginning of a smile or something else, Aira couldn't determine.
The eastern sky began to take on the color of dawn.
* * *
By the time morning light streamed through the cottage window, Raid was able to raise himself up.
He rose from the floor, placed his hand on the desk, then pulled out a chair and sat. The series of movements was somewhat slow, but he moved. Aira watched from beside the wall. Lilia lay on the floor, covered by a blanket. She had fallen asleep from the exhaustion of healing. Her silver short bob protruded from the edge of the blanket.
Raid opened his mouth.
"It's not serious exhaustion. Three days of rest and I'll be back to normal."
He said it with self-deprecating lightness. In his usual tone.
Aira stepped forward.
"I will report on last night's cardiac arrhythmia."
Raid's eyebrow moved slightly.
"The rhythm collapsed at a ratio of one beat in three. I judge it to be temporary, caused by excessive load on the magical circuits, but three days of rest may not be sufficient—"
"The circuit rust got worse than last night."
A voice came from under the blanket.
Lilia's face emerged. Her eyes were half-closed. She was speaking while sleeping. But her voice was
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