The Spirit Within
"Found it? What?" Ophelia's abrupt words caught me completely off guard. The way she stared at me—like a starving wolf that had just spotted its prey—only made the moment more unsettling.
"I thought something was off… so that was it?" Ophelia murmured, once again lost in her own thoughts. I watched her in silence before letting out a long breath. I had no idea what she was talking about or what she had discovered, and the frustration was beginning to mount. Yet I couldn't press her. If her mood soured, she could end my life without the slightest resistance from me. That was the worst outcome. The next worst would be being thrown out of this cabin. So I kept my mouth shut and waited for her thoughts to settle.
"…Hm? Ah, right." I had been standing quietly, letting the warmth from the fireplace thaw my chilled body, when Ophelia's voice pulled me back. I blinked slowly. Lost in the comfort, I hadn't noticed the passage of time. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the air around Ophelia seemed to have shifted.
"Oh dear, I've been thinking too much with a guest standing right here." That aside, why did her tone keep changing? Did she have two separate selves? While I entertained the pointless thought, Ophelia gestured toward a seat. My legs ached from the long walk, so I gladly accepted and sank into the sofa. The unexpected plushness drew an inward gasp of admiration. I hadn't expected her to use cheap furniture, but this was clearly top-tier.
As I pondered this, Ophelia studied my face before replying in her usual flat tone. "This space moves constantly anyway, so expensive things don't matter. It's not particularly costly by my standards either."
"…I see." Embarrassed, as though she had read my mind, I cleared my throat to change the subject. "There are many things I'd like to ask, but first, try holding this."
Ophelia reached into her robes and produced an object. It was long yet rounded… almost like the hilt of a sword. The notable feature was the large red gem embedded at its end, pulsing with constant light. I wondered if it was some kind of illumination spell, but quickly dismissed the idea. There would be no reason to enchant a simple hilt that way. As an extraordinary Archmage, she might have her reasons—ones far beyond an ordinary person's comprehension.
For that same reason, I extended my hand and grasped the hilt. Though I had never held a sword before, the shape fit perfectly in my palm, allowing a natural grip. And the moment I closed my fingers around it—
Flash!
The red gem blazed with light. At the same time, Ophelia's quiet voice reached me. "As I thought…"
Entranced by the glow, I stared at it. Only then did I understand. From everything that had happened until now, I possessed something that had drawn Ophelia's attention. Of course, I still didn't know what that something was. Fortunately, I didn't have to despair over the fact. She was about to tell me.
For a while, Ophelia gazed at the crimson light with an entranced smile. Then she seemed to come back to herself and spoke. "To put it simply, this device finds a certain kind of person."
"…A certain kind of person?"
"More precisely, it locates those with talent for a certain thing."
Ophelia looked as though she were truly possessed, not merely mistaken. Had she finally found the person she had been searching for? No—she was simply overjoyed that her curiosity could at last be satisfied.
"…Talent." I rolled the word around in my mouth. It wasn't talent for magic. If it were, my mana sensitivity wouldn't have ranked at the absolute bottom, and that was the one thing she possessed in abundance. So what kind of talent was she referring to?
"Ruen Fil Calbrandt."
"…"
"Aren't you curious why your mana sensitivity ranked the lowest?" Ophelia tilted her head with a faint smile. I couldn't help but frown. It wasn't that her words offended me—it was that they struck exactly where it hurt. At the same time, a realization struck me. …So she knew. She had known everything all along. I met her gaze with slightly lowered eyes, wondering what truth could shake someone who remained so composed despite knowing it all.
"I am curious."
"Didn't you find it strange? You're the son of Hamel Fil Calbrandt, who possessed golden mana comparable to mine, and Luana, a genius with an unparalleled mind for magic. So why is your mana sensitivity the lowest?"
Magic was strongly hereditary. Children born to mages were far more likely to become mages themselves. Occasionally, a child with no magical parents would display talent, but such cases were exceedingly rare. Conversely, there were rare instances of children born to mage families who lacked any talent. Yet within the Calbrandt line, such a thing had never occurred.
"…"
Thus, I chose silence. Before I could even dwell on my own strangeness, so many events had unfolded that I had forgotten. If I had thought calmly, I might have noticed the oddity myself. Ophelia smiled again and continued.
"With that level of talent, that level of elixirs, that level of support—everything your parents did wouldn't have been meaningless."
When Ophelia first saw Ruen Fil Calbrandt, she had seen through him. He would not possess the same radiant golden mana as his father. But that did not mean he would grow into a child with the lowest mana sensitivity. At the same time, Hamel, Ruen's father, could not have failed to see what Ophelia had seen. Hamel and Luana cherished and loved their son, but they would never have poured water into a bottomless bucket.
"…It could be an inheritance from my mother's side."
Feeling something amiss in Ophelia's words, I forced my mouth open to counter her. But even I knew it was a weak excuse, and Ophelia would certainly know the truth I was aware of.
"Nonsense. You know better than anyone that Luana isn't some woman lacking magical talent who merely has a good head on her shoulders."
"…"
Even if Luana didn't possess shining golden mana, she still had considerable mana sensitivity. Because she could manifest her thoughts into reality, she was called a genius. Ophelia pointed at the spirit-detecting device glowing in my hand.
"All the answers lie right there."
"…What exactly is that thing?"
The conversation had circled, but everything converged on a single point. Maintaining my composure with effort, I asked Ophelia.
"It's a spirit summoner detector… or rather, a device that finds people with talent for spirit arts."
"…Spirit arts?"
Spirit arts. Having often heard stories of ancient texts from my parents, I knew a little about them. They were said to be an extinct practice, the pinnacle of inefficiency. Of course, even my parents hadn't known whether that was true. But why was the topic surfacing now? I furrowed my brow and listened to Ophelia's next words.
"That's right, spirit arts. You have talent for spirit arts."
"…And what does that have to do with my lack of talent for magic?"
"Those who use spirit arts cannot use mana."
One of the many reasons spirit arts were shunned by magic. Spirit summoners could not wield mana. Those with talent for spirit arts had none for magic. A simple, straightforward logic. They were rejected because they were different. I looked at Ophelia with eyes that had sunk even deeper than before.
"The spirit arts devoured your magical talent, and every elixir you've consumed until now went to the spirit."
"What do you mean…"
"The spirit sleeping inside you."
Hearing Ophelia's quiet voice, I felt a splitting headache and clutched my head. So the elixirs I had taken had become food for the spirit, and the reason I had no magical talent was simply because I had talent for spirit arts instead? Then… if Ophelia's words were truly correct, if that was why my family fell, why my engagement ended, why my parents died—
"The world's only Spirit Summoner. This is a blessing."
Listening to her follow-up, I let out a hollow laugh without realizing it and muttered, "This is a curse…"