Destiny and Homecoming
They arrived at their destination.
"Well? Have you given it some thought? Heh-heh-heh-heh."
The voice that called out from behind as they stepped down from the carriage belonged to none other than the old mage himself.
Free spoke.
"...Why go this far for us?"
"Hmm? Is that what you're curious about?"
He asked it as though wondering why anyone would bother questioning his motives after he'd already offered a full tuition waiver, scholarships, and a supreme-tier grimoire apiece.
"Free. That old man. He seems like a con artist."
Aina tugged at Free's sleeve with a pincer-like grip, but it was the old mage who answered first, chuckling, ho ho ho.
"A misunderstanding, I assure you. I am no swindler. Ah, yes! This letter of recommendation should settle the matter. Good thing I wrote it in advance."
"..."
How did he prepare something like that so quickly, without anyone noticing?
From his sleeve, the old man produced two envelopes, each sealed with a red stamp, and held them out toward Free.
"Take them."
"...What is this?"
"You'll understand once you look. My official seal is stamped right there."
The seal at the center of each envelope had already dried thoroughly. Impressed upon it was the official mark of the Headmaster of Arhen Academy.
"It can't be..."
"That's right. I am the man who once served as Headmaster of Arhen Academy. The previous one, that is."
"..."
He had harbored a vague suspicion, a half-formed guess — but as the old saying went, it was always the unthinkable that came true. He truly hadn't expected the man to be the Headmaster of that place. Former Headmaster, technically — but still.
Seals of this kind were typically treated with powerful magic, making forgery all but impossible.
"I give you my word. Take those letters with you, and you'll skip every last admission procedure. A free pass, straight through. Hohohohohoho!"
It was a revelation of identity delivered with the air of a man saying, this is the caliber of person I am. Free regarded him evenly and asked,
"Why would someone of your stature be riding a carriage like that, in a place like this?"
It was a perfectly reasonable question. But the old man who had just named himself the former Headmaster of the Imperial Arhen Academy merely smiled, staff in hand, and gave a simple answer.
"When a man grows old — when his time draws near — it is only natural that he look back upon the path he has walked, the trail he blazed with his eyes always fixed ahead."
"..."
"I can say this with certainty, for no one knows this body better than I. I cannot tell you precisely when — but I will die soon. Not long from now."
"...!"
It was a bolt from the blue — the kind of news that would have stunned anyone who knew him. Even Free could not hide the way his eyes widened.
"...Headmaster. You?"
"Don't look at me like that. I do not fear death. I have built a great deal in my time, and I have achieved nearly everything I dreamed of since I was a young man. There is only one thing... one last lingering attachment. That is why I set out on this long journey — to walk once more the path I lived."
"..."
It was the old man who asked next, his tone almost sly, about that last lingering attachment.
"Are you not curious what it is?"
Honestly, Free could have said he wasn't. This was another man's life, after all. The old mage was just one of countless people who would pass through Free's world and vanish — a stranger, nothing more.
And yet... why? Had something in him shifted?
Free wanted to ask. He had no idea what answer would come back — none at all.
"...What could it possibly be? For someone like you, Headmaster, to call it the last attachment of your life."
"Heh-heh-heh."
The old man paused. He met Aina's quiet, closed-lipped gaze, then Free's, looking from one to the other. The words he spoke next carried the weight of a sigh — and within them, the last remaining wish of a life, the final attachment he had not yet laid to rest.
The old man — no. The Headmaster of Arhen Academy. A Great Mage who had reached the pinnacle of his craft, then shattered that ceiling besides.
One who had transcended the absolute. A Transcendent, standing in a realm beyond.
Five hundred and forty-two years of age. A Demigod.
Aschulang spoke as though passing something on to the far younger junior who stood before him, a child of the new age.
"Someone to succeed me. Someone who will bring yet another change to this world—"
A mage beyond Transcendence itself. A mage of Revolution—
"Regrettably, talent of that caliber has been vanishingly rare. Even at our Arhen Academy. And yet..."
I met you.
It was a voice, and yet it was not a voice. The words that reached Free in particular — those scattered phrases — resonated as though they were speaking directly into his mind, into his very soul. A strange, wondrous sensation.
Before Free realized it, the old man's eyes had filled with an unfathomable five-colored light. As though he were gazing straight through the shell of flesh, piercing through to the essence of Free's soul itself...
"Heh-heh-heh. If this is not fate, then what is it? From the moment we first met... perhaps it was always going to come to this. The God of Magic intended for you and I to cross paths here, by what seemed like chance. There is no other explanation. From the first instant I laid eyes on you, I felt it — that this was a kind of destiny."
Was that why? Had that been the reason all along? Why he had kept sweetening the deal, piling on condition after condition as though doing them a favor.
"I promise you this. On the day you truly awaken, you will have the chance to inherit everything I have built."
"...What do you mean...? Awaken? What are you talking about..."
That was the moment. The old man's body began, all at once, to grow faint.
"...!!!"
Aina, standing beside him, startled as well — watching the old man's presence itself seem to blur and fade.
The measures have already been taken. Truth be told, your opinion never mattered much to me. Did I not say so? This was always our destined fate, ordained by the God of Magic.
Forgive me. But you will not regret it.
I shall pour everything I am into your soul, and pass it on.
Light seeped in. Into Free's chest.
And the next words were his last. The final sentence he left in this life, spoken to a young junior:
"So this was the end of the long journey that would close out my life, was it?"
"Heh-heh-heh-heh-heh-heh!"
"I suppose I can close my eyes now, and rest at last."
As though truly glad — as though even that last lingering attachment of his life had been resolved, shaken off and laughed away — the old man became nothing more than a beautiful five-colored light of magic. It scattered, dispersing into the empty sky, dissolving, fading, gone.
Free and Aina, left behind, could not so much as part their lips.
Thud.
They had met a fated connection. A meeting of unknown significance — one that might well have been both the first and the last.
On the ground lay what he had left behind.
◈ Ornate covers studded with jewels
◈ Highest-tier spellbooks of overwhelming potency
"..."
"..."
Clatter, clatter.
A carriage again. By now the very thought of one was enough to make their heads ache. And yet inside it, Free and Aina could not bring themselves to say a word to each other all the way here.
The encounter had been too mysterious, too extraordinary. The atmosphere between them was such that neither could quite bring themselves to be the first to speak.
Was the old man dead? Or had he truly been alive at all? Perhaps only a soul had remained, clinging like one last regret at the end of a life, and with power from some unfathomable height he had barely managed to tether that dying body in place.
Questions of that sort tumbled through their minds in no particular order, again and again. But for a long while, Free and Aina sat in the carriage without speaking. There were still too many things they did not understand — too many to put into words so easily, even now.
It had been like a waking dream, gone in an instant. Two people who had passed through an unknowable mystery, an unknowable meeting, and were at last drawing near the end of this long journey.
For up ahead, at the far end of the road their carriage traveled, the domain of House Phoenix was beginning to come into view.
The knight Hans was a senior knight charged with guarding the gates of the Phoenix estate. He was a man of no small accomplishment — an upper-rank knight who had reached a level of skill sufficient to cut down a reasonably capable mage in a single stroke. To be entrusted with the gates of a house of this standing, one had to be at least that good. And so Hans had always taken pride in the work, standing tall and unashamed at this great gate, set some distance from the main residence that served as the family's ancestral home.
The duty was performed in pairs, on rotating shifts, and so another gatekeeper of similar caliber stood beside him now. It was an ordinary, peaceful day of gatekeeping — until, without warning, someone arrived.
"Who... goes there?"
That was as far as he got. The colleague beside him went wide-eyed and hurriedly cut him off.
"Hey! Hans, you damn moron! You don't even recognize the young master of the house you're supposed to be guarding? That's Young Master Free — the fourth son of our family!"
"Hhk...!"
That was right. Half a year ago, their youngest young master had left to study in a foreign country — and now he had returned. Even when he had lived at the estate, catching a glimpse of his face had been a rare thing.
But the truly staggering problem, the one that made Hans's eyes nearly pop from his head, was something else entirely.
Y-Young Master Free has brought a girl with him!
And not just any girl — a young woman of striking beauty, walking close enough at his side that the nature of their relationship was not hard to guess.
"Hail!! Welcome home, Young Master! We'll open the gates at once!"
"...Mm. It's been a while. You've been working hard."
Free felt a peculiar awkwardness as he said it, then led Aina — who stood quietly at his side — through the main gates as the two gatekeepers pulled them open from either end.
Once they knew who Free was, neither of them asked who the girl beside him might be. Who would dare obstruct the path of House Phoenix's youngest young master? And who would dare do it by peppering him with nosy questions and tedious procedure? Hans, at least, was not that much of a fool.
After half a year, the family's youngest young master had come home — and he had come home with a beautiful girl his own age on his arm. Passed along at the next shift change, that news spread through the household that very day like wildfire, a rumor that ran on swift feet.
And the one who greeted the returning Free with the widest eyes of all was the second wife of House Phoenix. Free's mother. Lady Lena.
"Ah... my son?"
"It's been a while, Mother. I trust you've been well."
"..."
Aina bowed. Standing quietly at Free's side, she offered a greeting so poised and courteous it might have belonged to a prospective daughter-in-law — and that, for Lady Lena, who stood there with her mouth slightly open, was more than enough. In that instant, her first impression of the girl was decided.