The Magician's Forest (1)
When the carriage finally rolled to a stop and we climbed down from it, we formed ranks once more before the mouth of the forest.
Beyond Professor Wilhelm's shoulder, I could make out a great tree split into two forked branches, as if greeting our arrival. In stark contrast, everything beyond it was swallowed by a haze of impenetrable darkness, so that nothing at all could be seen. It was the kind of scene that made me wonder whether it was actually the middle of the day. No matter how dense a forest might be, I couldn't imagine how it managed to create such an eerie sight.
Professor Wilhelm clapped his hands the way he had before departure, drawing every eye back to him. At his side stood a single assistant, there as a precaution against any mishaps.
"Now, we will begin the exploration of the Magician's Forest. Before that, everyone is to receive one of these."
At a glance from Professor Wilhelm, the assistant fumbled something out of her things. It was a leather pouch that looked quite heavy, and the moment I laid eyes on it, I could guess what was inside. Opening it up, she began handing the contents out to us one by one. Each item looked like a chunk of blue stone, slightly smaller than my palm.
"Professor, what is this?"
"Mm. That is an artifact known as the Spirit King's Touch."
Just as I'd thought. I gave a slow nod and waited for Professor Wilhelm to continue.
"So long as you keep it on your person, the lesser spirits in the vicinity will not approach you. However, it will have no effect on the medium spirits guarding the Blessing of Astesia, nor on the monsters you may occasionally encounter."
"Th-then what are we supposed to do? We're only cadets—we can barely handle even the lesser spirits…."
One of the female cadets raised her hand and asked in a trembling voice. Spirits themselves were rarely ever seen, after all, so it was no wonder unease had swept over her.
"The purpose of this exploration is to retrieve the Blessing of Astesia, not to defeat spirits. When it comes to extracting it from the medium spirits, you have more than enough options—flanking maneuvers, deception, and the like."
"Are there many medium spirits in the forest?"
"No. At present, only three exist in this forest."
At Professor Wilhelm's unequivocal answer, a belated wave of relief passed through the assembled cadets. Once he confirmed that their expressions had eased a little, a faint smile crossed his face as he continued.
"In this exploration, you are at once teammates and rivals. The team that brings back the Blessing of Astesia will receive a substantial bonus, but if no one manages to claim it, a penalty will be imposed on every one of you."
"So taking the Blessing of Astesia from another team is a valid strategy?"
"Indeed. Whichever team seizes it and brings it before us is the final victor."
The Magician's Forest was, in the end, nothing more than a stage designed to simulate actual combat as closely as possible. And since the Spirit King's Touch would keep the lesser spirits from so much as interfering with the cadets, the battles between students themselves would only grow fiercer. In the original novel, this lesson had been described not as an exploration but as outright survival among cadets carried out under the pretext of a field trip—though of course, not a brutal, kill-or-be-killed death match.
"If you decide at any point that you can no longer proceed, pour your mana into the Spirit King's Touch. It will transport you and your partner out of the forest. Be aware, however, that doing so means your team forfeits and is assigned the lowest score."
"Yes, sir!"
Pleased by the eager response, Professor Wilhelm smiled with clear satisfaction and stepped two paces to the side. At last, the entrance to the Magician's Forest—the thing that had been hidden behind his shoulder this whole time—stood revealed.
"Then, good luck."
With those final words, every cadet kicked off from their position and bolted forward as though it were a footrace.
Idiots, the lot of them.
Rushing ahead wouldn't do them a bit of good.
Sticky and humid.
That was the entirety of the impression that first sprang to mind after Rone and I entered the Magician's Forest. I had no room to marvel at how untouched the wilderness remained, let alone to wonder what the trees growing around us might be called.
"It feels kind of gloomy in here, doesn't it…?"
"There's a saying that when it rains here, the ground never dries. Can't say I'm surprised."
I answered without so much as a glance at Rone, who had subtly edged closer to my side. The sunlight that had been so sharp and bright just moments ago had vanished from our field of view without our noticing. It wasn't dark enough that I couldn't make out the path a pace ahead, but that ambiguous half-light somehow only deepened the gloom.
Tap. Tap.
I moved along, sweeping aside the underbrush and low branches with the stubby wooden stick I'd picked up earlier.
Dammit, this is a pain.
This was why traveling through untrodden mountains and forests was such a chore even before you got anywhere. If it were up to me, I'd have carved my way through with my sword, but if I did that and Rone, trailing behind me, suddenly latched onto my back, things would get dangerous, so I had no choice.
Noticing the irritation I was barely containing, Rone spoke up, a little hesitantly.
"Vel. Would you rather I just clear the path with magic?"
"Don't. You want to broadcast to the whole forest that we're here?"
It was an absurd suggestion, and I cut her off as briskly as I'd been swatting branches. I appreciated that she was thinking of me, but right now that would be a hopelessly short-sighted choice. Granted, we held nothing worth the Blessing of Astesia—no one had any particular reason to sabotage us. The other cadets were one thing, but any monsters lurking nearby were another matter entirely. They were mostly mindless things that would blindly pounce on anything that moved.
As Professor Wilhelm had said, the Spirit King's Touch protected us only from the lesser spirits scattered through the forest—it had no effect whatsoever on monsters. So the best course was to avoid clashes with the beasts as much as possible, conserve our strength, and push straight for the heart of the forest. A little tedium along the way was a price worth paying for that.
So we pressed on once more, shouldering our way through the thickets—until—
"Hm?"
Rone suddenly turned her gaze to the right and let out a puzzled sound.
"What is it?"
"N-nothing… I thought something passed by. Must've been my imagination."
"Imagination?"
She brushed it off as nothing, but a strange flicker of déjà vu made me frown. Come to think of it, in the original novel, Rone's affinity for mana was so exceptionally high that she could sense things others couldn't. It might just be me worrying over nothing, but there was no harm in being careful. Besides, it wouldn't be at all strange for an enemy who would soon reveal himself to already be lurking close by.
"Rone. If you see or feel something like that again, tell me."
"It might just be nothing, though…?"
"That's fine. Even the tiniest detail—just tell me."
I coaxed her as gently as I could, and Rone finally seemed to accept it.
From here on out, this would be a war of information. If I could find a gap in his defenses, that would be the best possible outcome.
Come out and face me already, you bastard.
I gritted my teeth at an enemy I couldn't even see and steeled my resolve. It made no difference to me which cadet walked away with the Blessing of Astesia—all I wanted was to put Bartel down for good and get some rest.
Deep within the dense woods, a man crouched in hiding, holding his breath. He wore a thick robe dyed the same color as the underbrush to conceal his presence as much as possible, and had pulled his hood low over his face—yet his sharp, glittering eyes still shone through with unsettling clarity.
Before long, the man, who had been narrowing his eyes as though searching for something, felt his shoulders give a faint tremor.
"Did they notice?"
The murmur slipped from his lips—but in truth, he had an audience. Someone had been listening the whole time.
"Notice? What, do you think the professors caught you?"
The man perched on a tree branch dropped down to the ground, tilting his head in puzzlement. According to the intelligence they'd gathered, the faculty were supposed to stay out of the forest for the duration of the search.
"No. A cadet. She was tracking my Magician's Eye with her eyes just now."
The Magician's Eye. Just as the name suggested, it was a scouting spell—and a living construct—used by magicians. It took the form of a one-eyed, bat-like creature that drifted through the air, and depending on the caster's skill, it roamed a set radius, serving as the magician's second pair of eyes. Normally it was a creature visible to the naked eye, so the standard practice was to send it sweeping the surroundings from a high altitude where it couldn't easily be spotted.
This man, however, had layered an invisibility spell over his Magician's Eye just moments ago. Maintaining two spells at once was a mild nuisance, admittedly—but in exchange, it let him comb through the forest's interior without ever being seen, which made it overwhelmingly efficient.
And yet it had been detected. It might have been nothing, but as far as he could tell, that silver-haired cadet had been staring dead at the Magician's Eye with both eyes. Which meant she either possessed an unusually keen sensitivity to mana, or she'd been born with some rare, special gift. The man reasoned it was most likely the former.
"She seemed unsure herself, though. Probably just someone with sharp senses."
"Well, that's a nuisance."
"…You say that awfully easily. Aren't you the one this job belongs to, 'Bartel'?"
At the cold words of the khaki-haired man, Bartel—the one with the serpentine face—put on a mocking show of recoiling, playing the fool.
"Come on, don't be like that. You're the one who butted in later, insisting you'd take part yourself."
"Spare me the lecture. So—when does the flower bloom?"
"Three hours from now, give or take. The preparations are done."
Bartel flashed an empty pouch and snickered. The other man, recalling what had been inside it moments before, let his gaze darken and gave a small nod. Whatever else you could say about him, the man took his duties seriously—no doubt the groundwork had been laid meticulously.
"I'll channel my mana in exactly thirty minutes before the bloom completes. That's your opening—slip in and take the flower, and only the flower."
"You work me like a dog, you know that? Fine. But in return, I can kill a few along the way, right?"
When Bartel asked while brandishing a grotesquely curved dagger, the man answered without even sparing him a glance.
"Do as you like. This is the signal flare announcing our master's resurrection—might as well make it a grand spectacle."
"Now that's what I like to hear."
With those final words, Bartel vanished from before the man's eyes without so much as a whisper of movement—a display of skill worthy of the name Soundless Blade. But the man showed no particular reaction. With a perfectly blank expression, he set off to attend to his own part in the task at hand.