Lokralen. (5)
......Hello. My professor.
The trembling voice of a child approaching from some distant future. That mysterious timbre lingers in his ears like an echo before scattering. It manifests before his eyes, spreading through his entire body as a lingering resonance.
He closed his eyes, then opened them.
In that instant, the briefest moment, the world had already been turned upside down.
“......”
Where the boy had been in the underground chamber, there was now nothing but the silent scenery.
The wind swirled emptily in place, and cold dampness touched his skin.
The underground was nothing but stillness.
In this unchanged space, his time continued without interruption, not even once.
Yet between this moment and that one, 385 years must have existed.
“......Impudent.”
A flicker of small anger and contempt stirred within him. It was the inevitable reaction of his nature.
Flutter—
Suddenly, a single sheet of paper caught his eye. A scrap of paper lay at his feet.
He lifted it with Telekinesis.
To Professor Deculein.
Hello, it's Ifrin.
By now, the professor I know is probably angry. Muttering “Impudent,” right?
“......”
He involuntarily glanced around. There was no sign of anyone.
He read the lines again. The handwriting was pressed firmly into the page.
I'm sorry, Professor. But this is my burden alone.
And this time is truly just “time.” Mana, air—everything is stagnant in place. So training is impossible.
It's a meaningless time where only thoughts are possible.
Like waves crashing on the shore, it just sweeps in and recedes, repeating endlessly.
Hee hee.
Um, this Ifrin...... actually had a lot to say to you, Professor.
About what happened in the future, and how it turned out.
But conveying future knowledge to the present is fraught with difficulties. Especially your future—it was impossible even pouring in all my mana.
So, rather than a half-finished line of information or some trivial fact, just one word.
The one thing I wanted to say to you.
“......?”
The letter ended there. He checked the back, but it was blank.
What had happened? The content cut off abruptly.
Then.
“Professor!”
The door burst open, and a slightly younger, clearer voice struck the back of his head. He slipped the note into his inner pocket and turned to her.
“Did it work?! Is Lokralen scrapped?!”
Ifrin.
She clenched her fists, asking urgently.
He nodded.
“Ah!”
“However, scrapping all of Lokralen is a matter for the future. I dismantled the Kaidezite, but until that future day, Lokralen's timeline will persist.”
Scrapping Lokralen was still a “future” event. Lokralen itself would remain until the day Ifrin became an archmage.
“Th-then...... what about me?”
Ifrin asked hesitantly.
He looked at her and recalled the future Ifrin.
He imagined her enduring 385 years alone.
Anger surged.
She had ignored his abilities and pride. She had rejected his will. It was an utterly impudent stubbornness.
You are not someone who can endure such a vast time alone.
“......”
He approached Ifrin. She fidgeted but did not flee.
Thud—
“Eek!”
He placed his hand on her head.
It was small and light.
“Your head still has much to learn.”
“......What?”
The still-empty Ifrin narrowed her eyes.
“Ifrin has returned to the future. In that future, all of Lokralen is scrapped, so you will never meet again.”
“......”
Her face fell a little, disappointed.
He silently ascended from the underground.
“Hey, Deculein! You bastard!”
At the stairs on his way back, Rozerio glared at him.
As expected, she was unaware even of being preserved in stasis.
“You betrayed me?!”
“Follow me. It is done.”
“......What? Done?”
As they reached the first-floor lobby together, nearly the entire conference was already gathered. Freed from stasis, they wore awkward expressions.
Among them was Conference Chairman Lokralen. He seemed confused, absently fiddling with the necklace reduced to a mere chain at his collarbone.
“......Ah, Professor Deculein!”
“Professor Deculein. Was it you who resolved it?”
“I, I believed in you.”
The conference members approached belatedly. He gestured to Rozerio with his chin.
“Rozerio. Open the door.”
“Oh my.”
Rozerio dismantled her Transmutation.
Rumble—!
The conference's blocked exit revealed itself, and bright sunlight filtered in.
“Ho...... sunlight after nearly three days. Professor Deculein. Sorry for the misunderstanding?”
Rozerio muttered, and a few mages glanced at him warily as they exited.
They were unaware of “someone's” sacrifice, so their reaction was only this mild.
“......Ahem. This is Conference Chairman Lokralen. Due to this unfortunate incident, the conference will be suspended.”
Then Lokralen spoke via amplification magic.
“Please return to your hotels and rest. Exit procedures are tomorrow. Everyone, return to your hotels and rest......”
Ifrin glared at him with pursed lips and sullen eyes.
The next day.
Drent, who had been groaning from mana exhaustion, had recovered somewhat, and all other conference events were canceled.
Chairman Lokralen had declared a “reorganization period,” so it was time to leave.
“Reorganization? Why not just scrap the whole conference now? Then no such thing happens in the future either.”
Ifrin's perfectly reasonable question.
He shook his head.
“There is no evidence. Even with evidence, Kaidezite is a future threat. The Floating Island would counter that it's fine until that ‘remaining time.’”
An island mad for magic, knowledge, and mystery.
The Floating Island's exterior seemed utterly rational and intellectual, but its core was rigidly dogmatic, coldly ruthless.
“Ah......”
“Professor~ Packing's all done!”
“I think I can manage with crutches too.”
Allen's and Drent's voices, respectively.
He nodded and opened the room door.
He had much to contemplate later. Starting with the Advanced Trait Catalog from the quest reward......
“Professor. Will today's memories fade once we leave Lokralen?”
Ifrin asked in the hotel elevator.
“It depends on mental strength, but for you, it will likely remain as a faint afterimage. You won't forget completely, but you won't recall the details.”
“......”
Ifrin nodded, a bit disappointed.
Ding—
The elevator reached the first floor.
The hotel lobby was crowded with people leaving Lokralen today. They greeted him, but he had no desire to respond.
They headed straight out and walked the street.
“Sorry, Assistant Professor. Isn't it heavy?”
“It's fine~ We're teammates.”
Drent, still unwell, and Allen supporting him.
“I passed out like an idiot...... Who knew one word would knock me out.”
“Right? That was weird.”
Suddenly, their words sparked his thoughts.
He sensed a spark originating from his brain.
“Professor! Professor—!”
A noisy voice called from behind. Conference Chairman Lokralen approached, waving.
Ifrin puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms at the sight. He stared silently too.
“Hahaha, leaving already? Have a banquet before you go. It's almost ready.”
Lokralen seemed oblivious to having been Kaidezite's host.
“Unnecessary.”
“Ah~ Yes. Still, I came to express our gratitude. Thanks to you, the conference is intact.”
“Tch. Intact my ass.”
Ifrin grumbled. Lokralen glanced at her sullen face, then pointed to Drent behind.
“Haha. Haven't seen this one before?”
“The mage I mentioned who fainted from one word.”
“Ah~ Too bad. But really that tired? Fainting from one word.”
“......Sorry.”
Drent bowed deeply, and as Lokralen smiled wryly—
“......Wait.”
The spark in his mind ignited. The tiny flame blazed into a flash instantly.
“Lokralen.”
“Yes?”
“You said it. No one faints from just one word.”
“Yes. As an example. Even with low mental strength, one word wouldn't......”
“Yet this one did.”
He pointed at Drent, who guiltily covered his face.
“Hm. He must have been exhausted at the time—”
“Name another condition.”
“Pardon? Condition?”
“If he truly fainted, perhaps the problem lies not with him, but the ‘opposing mage.’”
“......Well.”
Lokralen stroked his chin, pondering, then continued haltingly.
“More than mana, it's a difference in mental strength? Conversing with a future mage of immense mental power...... But probably his fatigue was greater.”
That was it.
“I see.”
He recalled the moment they first entered Lokralen—not him, but they.
That day.
The robed mage passing by like a passerby.
The one Drent unconsciously greeted.
And......
So, rather than a half-finished line of information or some trivial fact, just one word.
The one thing I wanted to say to you.
Ifrin's letter, unnaturally cut off.
“Professor? What's wrong?”
He imagined Ifrin writing the letter.
Pressing line by line her heart into the small scrap.
Pondering sentences, contemplating her time—in that moment.
Some shocking event occurs.
So startled she couldn't finish the letter.
No, there was no need to finish it.
Because......
“What must happen will happen.”
“Pardon?”
Everyone turned to him.
“That impudent one......”
“Who?”
Ifrin asked back. He gestured to Allen to point at Ifrin. Quick-witted Allen dragged her away forcibly.
“Ifrin~ We'll go ahead~”
“Huh? Why, why? Wait......”
Leaving the receding Ifrin behind.
He said to Lokralen.
“Lokralen. Call for me in the near future.”
Lokralen smiled brightly.
“Ah~ Of course. It's only natural. Normally no duplicate invitations, but the conference is in December too—”
“No.”
He cut Lokralen off, sharpening his gaze.
“Do not list me on the invitation roster.”
“......Pardon?”
“Call me secretly.”
His name must not appear on the roster.
Only then could he deceive her eyes.
“Ah, that's a bit much. By Lokralen's rules—”
“Do rules matter now? Because of you, we nearly died.”
He placed a hand on Lokralen's shoulder. Startled, he shook his head.
“Th-there could be great danger. It's for your safety, Professor. Without the roster, managing entry later—”
“I know. That's precisely why I say it.”
He stared into Lokralen's eyes. The pupils shook wildly, avoiding his gaze.
Gulp—
Finally, Lokralen swallowed, wiping sweat from his neck.
“Wh-when?”
“Whenever. It matters not.”
He turned to see Ifrin walking away, glancing back repeatedly.
“When I am prepared, I will come of my own accord.”
Sunlight streamed through Lokralen's dome glass. A light source bending softly like wind.
“You need only leave the door open.”
“......Yes. Yes. Understood. But why go to such lengths......”
He smiled and shook his head.
“No need to ask the reason.”
The robed passerby Drent met.
The one with mental strength to fell him with a single word.
There could only be one such person in this world.
“From the beginning.”
He knew who it was.
He was......
“It was meant to be this way.”
......Deculein von Grahan Yukline.
......The night before, in Ifrin's time while Deculein was preserved.
“Done!”
Ifrin successfully dismantled the Kaidezite. It released immense “time energy” throughout Lokralen and vanished.
“Whew......”
Now her task was simple.
Endure 385 years in this confined space—140,525 days, or 3,372,600 hours.
“......At least there's something to see.”
Ifrin looked at the preserved Deculein.
His appearance hadn't aged a bit, then or now. Amid shifting time and flowing years, this paranoid neatness and tidiness would be eternal.
“Be back soon.”
Gazing at him, Ifrin hurried up the underground stairs.
Passing Rozerio in the [Underground Archives], and the soundly sleeping Ifrin, she reached the first-floor lobby.
“......Phew.”
Confirming all preserved, she sighed softly. Not a single one missed.
“Oh right.”
About to check the second and third floors, she turned back down instead.
“Almost forgot the letter. Better write it while I'm still spry.”
She flitted back underground like a bird. In the center stood Deculein, rigidly preserved.
Ifrin pulled out a blank scrap, looking at him.
“Let's see......”
To Professor Deculein.
Hello, it's Ifrin.
She wrote not with a pen, but mana. Using his carbon magic invention, attaching “graphite” to the paper.
I'm sorry, Professor. But this is my burden alone. And this time is truly just “time.”
Mana, air—everything is stagnant in place. So studying magic or training is impossible.
“Pfft.”
As she continued, a smile slipped out, and something welled up inside.
Was this what “conveying one's heart” meant?
Ifrin pressed each character firmly.
......So, rather than a half-finished line of information or some trivial fact, just one word.
The one thing I wanted to say to you.
——But then.
Thud.
Suddenly, Ifrin's ears perked sharply.
She widened her eyes and looked up.
Thud.
A footstep that shouldn't exist.
“......”
Ifrin's hand froze.
Could someone still not be preserved?
Drent was confirmed per the entry logs?
Chills ran up her spine as she stared into the distance—
“Absurd.”
“......!”
The voice scraped her ears.
Too familiar, yet impossible timbre.
“So careless......”
Unaware of her shock, the words continued mockingly, and from the darkness emerged a man in black robes.
“How dare you call yourself my disciple.”
She just stared at him rebuking her.
Tears already welled in her eyes, throat choked, no words came.
“You are still a fool.”
The only one who could call an archmage a fool.
As he shed his robe himself, Ifrin covered her mouth with both hands.
“Ah......”
It was Deculein. More precisely, the future Deculein.
He bore a slightly warmer smile than the current one.
“You should have been more thorough. Isn't that right?”
Ifrin's eyes curved into a faint smile.
In that moment of laughter, transparent tears flowed like a rainbow.
“Yeah.”
Ifrin wiped them with her robe sleeve.
“I was too...... foolish.”
She looked up at him again, smiling through tears.
Professor Deculein hated crying people, but now it was unavoidable. Her madly pounding heart and emotions were beyond control.
“Should have been...... more thorough......”
......Behind such her.
A small scrap fluttered down.
The note beginning with a shy line like “To Professor Deculein—.”
To Professor Deculein—
“I was such a fool......”
Ifrin did not finish the sentence.
Because he was there across from her, come to her—no need.
“......Sorry, Professor.”
Focusing on this moment, Ifrin felt guilt.
“And...... thank you.”
The years she had resolved to bear alone.
They would be endlessly satisfying now......