Mage Milia (8)

It was during the period when Milia and Jim had vanished.

Esmeralda and Irina, who had belatedly started to worry about the two of them and gone searching, came face to face with a most unexpected sight.

"What... what is that?"

The sun was visible.

Granted, night had not yet fallen, so there was nothing strange about seeing the sun itself. But its position was far, far too close.

It felt as though the sun were actually falling — the warmth around the Magic Tower had grown so intense that the air itself seemed to sizzle.

This was unmistakably an anomaly. A bizarre phenomenon with no context whatsoever, and yet Esmeralda did not panic.

Has my life ever been any different?

Her existence had always been an unbroken chain of sudden ordeals. One could fairly call it not merely unfortunate but outright cursed.

Of course, those ordeals were her burden to bear as the Hero. But this time, at least, she had a dependable ally at her side.

"Irina, the Tower Master should be strong enough to handle this, right?"

"Well, even if we all threw ourselves at it, I doubt it would do any good. Unless it's one of our church's paladins, opposing such a thing would be flatly impossible."

The Tower Master, Glisha Lentissimo. She was one of the transcendents who represented humanity at its apex — Esmeralda's own appraisal put her Comprehensive Estimated Level at 841. Enemies of the caliber Esmeralda usually faced would be swept aside with ease.

"But what if whoever this is already knows that?"

"And if this isn't some accident — a failed experiment or the like — but a demon invasion aimed directly at us?"

Irina answered Esmeralda's speculation with an icy expression.

"No matter how mindless they are, launching an attack this brazen would mean they're confident they can handle the Tower Master herself."

Esmeralda stopped walking.

If Irina's hypothesis was right, this was no time to be hunting for Jim and Milia.

By the time the sun descending from the sky had sharpened into clear focus — by the time its heat had stopped being merely hot and begun stinging her skin like needles — Esmeralda finally made out what was falling.

"Irina."

"Yes."

KWAAAAAAAAAANG!

Call it a ball of fire that resembled the sun — it was no true sun.

The barrier Irina unfurled in an instant held back the plummeting flame. For now, the thing was nothing more than enormous in size.

That alone would be enough to raze the entire surrounding area, but short of a concentrated point-attack, it could not break through Irina's barrier.

Esmeralda stared long and hard at the explosion scattering beyond the barrier, then spoke.

"You go find Milia and Jim. It seems I'm needed here."

"Did you see the beast's name?"

"No idea. Maybe it's come to kill Jim again?"

Esmeralda smirked.

But the corners of her mouth, trembling like leaves in a gale, betrayed her.

Her own two eyes had shown her the truth. She had sworn never to overtrust her instincts again — and yet there was information she could not ignore.

"A Legion Commander has graced us with her presence."

Like Eleven, whom she had faced some time ago, the name was laughably halfhearted. But if the number in that name symbolized the legion it commanded — then this was the one who led the fifth-ranked legion of the Demon King's Army, a force governed by nothing but the Law of Might.

Worse, the enemy was no mere demon, but something that had once been other and had since rotted into demonhood.

Having all but shoved Irina out beyond the barrier, Esmeralda slowly raised the Holy Sword.

"Right... Jim said he'd seen you before. So that wasn't a lie."

Through the blazing sun, she could see a woman wearing an eerily bewitching smile, and she thought herself fortunate to have sent Irina away in time. And she had good reason to.

The woman was the very existence that would tear freshly at Irina's deepest wound.

The pseudo-holy relic the Fire Spirit Order had once made by grinding a Hero's corpse into its making. From within the sun, a honeyed voice drifted down as if this entire situation were nothing more than a game to her.

"Aha? So it's you. The Hero. I thought we might cross paths someday — I see that wretched destiny of yours is still going strong, hm? Considering you've walked right into me like this."

"That's me, all right. Though weren't we at a place where we couldn't have stumbled into each other by chance to begin with? What brings you here?"

"Hm? Came to get a good, long look at the face of the little brat who went around selling my name without permission. Consider it a vacation."

"Aha."

She had earned the right to be arrogant. She possessed power enough to invade Glacies Magic Tower alone and walk back out alive.

Demon society followed the Law of Might — and she, a former Hero and the pseudo-holy relic birthed by the Fire Spirit Order, was living proof of why the Demon King's Army had never dared move openly against a Hero.

Honestly? I'd been underestimating her.

Even an idiot like me could tell that everyone in the Hero Party was, in some unspoken way, trying not to let go of me. And that something resembling affection was mixed in beneath it.

I just never imagined it ran this deep.

"I... won't run away."

I knew full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠well how cruel she could be — but knowing did nothing to blunt the terror of it being aimed at me.

"You say that now, but you'll just wait for your chance and bolt later, won't you?"

"Would I do that? Do I look like someone who lies to you?"

"Yes."

Brutally blunt...

Frankly, I'd expected Milia, of all people, to hesitate at least a little. Am I really that untrustworthy?

Well, I did recently throw a tantrum about wanting to quit. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I threw it rather hard, so I suppose my credibility has taken a hit.

"Hey, Jim. Answer me."

Wriggle!

The black tendrils blooming like flowers from her back squirmed and writhed, as if giving voice to every dark feeling churning inside her.

If I went all out, could I even beat Milia as she was now? Probably not. Not a chance.

Then what if I quietly set aside the line I'd drawn for myself? Now — while no one was watching — was undeniably the perfect moment.

"Was the time we spent together really so worthless that you could throw it away without a second thought?"

"...I wouldn't say that."

"Then stay right there."

But at the tremor in Milia's tear-choked voice, I was forced to abandon the idea.

No. This wouldn't work. Unlike Irina, she wasn't praying for a miracle. What she needed wasn't some lesson or lecture.

And even if I did drop the line and somehow talked her down, that would only create a different problem. This wasn't her burden alone — it was mine too.

If I resolved the incident, shoved the memory back across the line as if nothing had happened, the whole thing would simply repeat itself. What Milia had needed, all along, was someone to speak with from the same side of the glass.

Because the eyes of a transcendent, I realized, can never truly understand a human being.

That was the whole reason I'd come back. The things I'd gathered up along the way for that purpose. The long, bitter penance of trying to understand you all.

"Um, Milia? Let's just calm down first. That magic is terrifying, so why don't you put it away for a moment and we can talk?"

"So you can run."

"Even if I did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠run, I'd still be in the palm of your hand, wouldn't I?"

"......"

I am weak right now. So weak that the move I consider my trump card is, in all likelihood, nothing more than one tool among many to her. That's how wide the gap is.

And it made sense — aside from the Hero herself, Milia possessed the most singular talent in the entire party.

The talent of turning imagination into reality. That gift was far beyond anything I had the standing to comment on.

"God, I hate gambling with my life like this."

Honestly, that magic scares the hell out of me. I'd seen her testing it on demons back in the day, and even then I could see its future as a textbook instrument of torture.

And watching those tendrils keep writhing even after I'd said I wouldn't run... I had a feeling that no answer I gave would change the outcome.

So, to cut to the conclusion.

"Party transfer matters are the Hero's responsibility, so let's go hash this out with her."

I ran for my life.

All to hand Milia — my walking liability — off to the Hero.

CRACKLE-CRACK-CRUNCH!

Trees buried under thick white snow withered, caught fire, and snapped in an instant.

Milia stood atop the tendrils she had conjured, chasing me down. She wasn't even speaking anymore.

She'd never been talkative to begin with, but the sheer air of fight to the death radiating off her was genuinely terrifying to behold.

Watching the forest — once blanched pure white, picturesque in its own way — turn to ruin along every path her tendrils traced, I half-wondered if the Demon King I'd been searching for all this time wasn't Milia herself.

Human malice is a frightening thing.

Wait — is it even malice? It feels more like a sulk. Or spite.

I could feel the scales inside my heart quietly tipping the other way.

"Still, all those years living as a pack mule weren't for nothing! I can really run!"

Good legs on me. I'm honestly a little proud of myself.

Anyway, I ran like a madman.

Ordinarily I'd have fled in the opposite direction from the Tower, but right now I was headed straight toward it.

From the start, I had little faith I could outrun Milia to the very end — and even if I somehow managed it, pursuit was almost certain to follow.

Knowing her, she'd probably slap a wanted notice on me. The problem was that unlike my previous desertions, this one would likely come with a little extra clause: dead or alive.

If only to avoid that, I had to steer clear of actually deserting. Besides, Milia had a point, didn't she?

Were those three years truly worthless to me?

No. They weren't.

I want to believe they weren't, but —

"Whew. Being a demon is a dog's life, huh."

Look at the state of me. Honestly, can you blame me for thinking the pain outweighs the value?

Why does everyone only think about themselves?

I'm hardly one to talk, being a spy, but even so — they're all so damned selfish.

I was in the middle of fleeing with my head in complete disarray when I caught sight of something white wriggling at the corner of my vision.

Half-convinced it was some newly discovered monster, I began to quietly veer off my path — then looked closer and found the Saintess, Irina.

"Jim!"

"SAINTESSESSESSES!"

Never in my life had I been so glad to see her. Was this what they called camaraderie?

"KYAAAAAH! Don't bring that hideous thing over here!"

Apparently not.