He remembered the way back along the farm road. In the sunset, Lilia's silver-white hair had taken on a faint golden tint, and she was smiling softly. In that moment, dark particles had leaked gently from his right hand. They danced quietly through the air between them, and she had whispered, "It's beautiful"——. Galen Straiver opened his eyes. He saw the ceiling boards of the Rusty Gear Tavern. Wood grain and faint traces of mold. It was a sight he'd grown quite familiar with over the past few days. His lower back hurt. No, today's pain was different from the usual kind. The muscles around his waist felt strangely stiff from the counter-attribute adaptation misfiring several times on the farm road. There was a sensation of something deep within his body trying to move against his will. For thirty-eight years, a body that had never once been able to use magic was suddenly trying to learn something new——perhaps this awkwardness was slowly manifesting as muscle soreness. "...That's a disturbing way to put it," Galen muttered to the empty room. He slowly sat up and pulled a heat patch from his travel bag. One, two. Then a third. He carefully applied them to the right side of his lower back, the left side, and the lower part of his back. This was the morning ritual of a thirty-eight-year-old, a fact he'd already accepted. The problem was today's schedule. Galen opened the notebook at his bedside. The day's schedule he'd carefully written down last night before turning off the light. His meticulous nature only created unnecessary work at times like these. ① Self-directed control practice for counter-attribute adaptation ② Draft submission of retirement notice to the Tornica branch of the Wanderer's Guild ③ Lower back pain hot spring therapy at the public bath "Bathhouse of Steaming Tracks" Three items. Perfect. If he did it alone, he wouldn't trouble anyone. If he didn't involve anyone else, even if the counter-attribute adaptation misfired, the damage would be limited to himself. Most importantly——he wouldn't have to experience that indescribable twilight atmosphere again, like yesterday. Galen snapped the notebook shut. "Right, I'll do this alone," he said with firm resolve. He placed his hand on his lower back and stood up, descending the stairs one step at a time. ◆ He chose a stone-paved alley on the outskirts of town as the place for control practice. Tornica was a small town with a population of about twenty-eight hundred, but in the early morning hours, while the center bustled with market activity, the outer alleys became nearly deserted. Galen stationed himself there and took a deep breath. The goal was simple. Intentionally activate the counter-attribute adaptation and see if he could control it. Yesterday, in the farmer's storage shed, those black threads had emerged unconsciously, yet they'd restrained seven slimes with such precision. That meant if he did it right, there was accuracy to be had. The question was whether he could control it consciously. Galen extended his right hand forward. He concentrated. ...Nothing happened. He took another deep breath. Concentrated again. ...Nothing happened. Ah, Galen realized. Yesterday it had reacted because Lilia's holy attribute was nearby. Something was definitely sleeping inside his body, but it was being drawn entirely by Lilia's holy attribute mana—— Pshuu. "...Huh?" Galen said. A thin dark thorn shot from his palm. A small crack appeared in the stone pavement. Galen looked in the direction the thorn had gone. The wall at the end of the alley. From beyond the wall——he sensed a faint, pale holy attribute aura. Could it be that the remnants of Lilia's holy attribute that had seeped into his body on the way back yesterday were still lingering? "I see. ...I see?" Galen tilted his head. The moment he did, he stepped on a stone beneath his feet. Pshuu. Another thorn flew, this time sideways. "Wait, wait, wait!!" Galen said. He took a deep breath. Air filled his lungs. Did it react even to the flow of air? Dark threads leaked from between his fingers, undulating and drifting, crawling across the stone pavement. Galen tried to pull the threads back in. He concentrated with all his might. The threads multiplied to three. "That's making it worse!!" Galen shouted. At that moment, he heard the sound of a cargo cart from the alley entrance. Galen spun around. A cart laden with goods was approaching at a leisurely pace. The driver——a sun-tanned man in his fifties, a traveling merchant——hadn't noticed anything. Galen tried to pull the threads back in. He concentrated even harder. The threads multiplied to five. "That's making it worse!!!!!" Galen cried out. There was a sound like fabric tearing. The rope securing the cargo on the cart snapped cleanly. The load collapsed. Twenty radishes, a bag of potatoes, three bundles of dried fish scattered across the stone pavement. CRASH AND CLATTER!!! "Whoa!!" The merchant stopped the cart. The horse whinnied in surprise. Galen froze in place. Silence. The merchant looked at Galen. He looked at the radishes scattered across the pavement. He glanced briefly at Galen's right hand. Galen slowly hid his right hand behind his back. "...I'm sorry. I'll compensate you," Galen said. In the end, forty minutes were lost to apologies and helping reload the cargo. The radishes were heavy. His lower back protested seriously three times. The merchant eventually left saying, "Well, the rope was old anyway," but Galen couldn't possibly believe the rope had been old. He drew a line through item ① in his notebook with a grimace. ◆ Next was the Wanderer's Guild——an organization with one hundred forty-two branches across the continent that mediated adventurer requests——the Tornica branch office. It was on the third floor of the Rusty Gear Tavern. Galen climbed the stairs to the third floor. His lower back, with three heat patches applied, let out a quiet cry of protest at the landing. When he opened the door, there was a single young guild receptionist in the office. A woman in her twenties with her hair tied back and wearing glasses. Her face looked familiar. He'd seen her organizing documents in front of the request board two days ago. "I'd like to ask about the procedure for submitting a retirement notice," Galen said. "A retirement notice! One moment, please." She pulled out a thick booklet from the shelf. "Comprehensive Regulations and Forms for Adventurer Registration Cancellation" was written on the cover. Galen had a bad feeling. "The retirement notice form is the Fourteenth Format. There's a regulation requiring you to list all request history from your active service——" Galen's eyes narrowed. "...All of it?" he asked. "Yes, all requests since your initial registration." "I've been active for twenty years," Galen said. "...Oh." Her smile faltered slightly. "Approximately how many would that be...?" "Three hundred eighty cases, or more," Galen said. "...Oh." This time it completely disappeared. Galen picked up the offered quill pen. The blank Fourteenth Format spread out before him with an intimidating expanse. The columns were small. There were many items to fill in. Request number, requester, request details, completion date and time, reward amount, whether there were companions——. "...I guess I have no choice," Galen said. By the tenth entry, he was done. A request from eighteen years ago. It wasn't near Tornica but in a northern town. He couldn't remember the requester's name. Galen pulled at the drawers of his memory. His arm was getting tired. The twentieth entry. Sixteen years ago. An escort request on a rainy day. A horse had escaped. The thirtieth entry. His arm was beginning to seriously protest. His fingers hurt. This wasn't what he'd spent all these years gripping a sword for. The fortieth entry. Galen set down the quill pen. By the forty-second entry, his right arm completely surrendered. His wrist was screaming. His grip strength had become a joke. Forty-two out of three hundred eighty cases. "...I'll continue another time," Galen said. The receptionist was looking at him with the eyes of someone observing something pitiful. Galen wrote "Gave up after 42 cases" in the ② column of his notebook. ◆ The public bath "Bathhouse of Steaming Tracks" was located in the middle of town. Tornica's old mine——or rather, an even older mine shaft that connected to a hot spring source underground, separate from the abandoned mine now called "Rat's Nest"——supplied hot water to this public bathhouse. The bathing fee was two copper coins. Cheap. And most importantly, it was good for lower back pain. For adventurers like Galen, it was a standard recovery spot. He'd already come here several times since yesterday, and he'd saved this as his final goal for today. With his exhausted body, he passed through the curtain and found a round-faced bathhouse attendant sitting at the counter. An old man in his sixties with a gentle demeanor. "Oh, Galen. You're here again today," the attendant said. "My lower back is...at its limit," Galen replied. "Please soak at your leisure." Galen undressed and headed toward the bath. Given that it was a weekday before noon, there were three other bathers in the tub. All of them were middle-aged to elderly commoners——a man who looked like a carpenter and a pair who seemed to be returning from farm work. Galen slowly sank into the hot water. It was hot. Just the right temperature. The warmth seeped into the depths of his body. The muscles in his lower back began to relax, just slightly. The fatigue in his arms gradually dissolved. The resentment from forty-two cases of writing slowly faded. (This. I've lived through today just for this.) Galen closed his eyes. He was leaning his head against the edge of the tub, consciousness beginning to drift, when—— Bubble, bubble, bubble. Galen opened his eyes. The water around him was bubbling. Black bubbles. Not the normal bubbles of a hot spring. Clearly——dark attribute mana was leaking into the water. The heat of the spring and the mana components dissolved in the water had stimulated the remnants of Lilia's holy attribute still lingering in his body. The counter-attribute adaptation had awakened in his body, now pleasantly warmed. Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble. Black particles of light rose up one after another into the steam. Black ripples spread across the water's surface, interfering with each other, and frankly, it looked very bad. The carpenter-looking man turned to look at Galen. "...What in the world is this!?" It didn't quite explode, but the man's face was completely "what in the world is this." "Wait, wait! It's black! The water's black!!" The pair returning from farm work stood up. They grabbed the edge of the tub, trying to get away from Galen. The black bubbles flowed in their direction. "It's coming! It's coming!!" "Eek!" All three jumped out of the bath at once. Footsteps echoed through the bathhouse. Clatter, clatter, clatter! Galen remained alone in the center of the black, bubbling bath. "No. I didn't do anything," Galen said calmly to the empty bathhouse. "I didn't do anything," he said again. Saying it didn't change the situation. The water remained black, and the black particles of light continued to bubble up. After a while, the bathhouse attendant cautiously poked his head into the bath area. The old man looked at Galen. He looked at the black bath. He looked at Galen. He looked at the bath. "...Galen, what is this?" the attendant asked. "It seems the hot spring and I have poor compatibility," Galen said. "Compatibility...," the attendant said, searching for words, and ultimately gave up. "From now on, when you visit alone, please inform the counter. We'll check the situation of the day before showing you to your bath——" "A new rule?" Galen asked. "...Yes. Effective today." Galen got out of the bath.