Frozen Heart, Burning Heart (4)
The Ice Emperor conceded his defeat and withdrew without a shred of lingering attachment. Zion had urged him to stay until Ifrit woke, but all that came back was a bitter smile — a shake of the head, and a vow that he would not appear before his daughter unless she wished it.
Zion had wondered why he insisted on keeping such a distance. Three days later, when Ifrit finally woke, the answer became clear.
"Where's Rin?"
"She went up to the higher floors. She said she hasn't been doing enough hunts and quests lately... She asked me to pass along her regards."
"A High Ranker needs the record to hold their seat. You've both had it rough."
"...What happened with the Ice Emperor?"
Ifrit was unharmed. She hadn't been injured so much as she'd simply burned through far too much of her power. That gave Zion a natural, careful opening to ask about the bitter history tangled between Ifrit and the Ice Emperor.
Ifrit fell silent, staring at the ceiling. Five minutes or so passed before she finally opened her mouth.
"I've been locked in a castle since I was little. I never wanted for anything. It wasn't like I was being abused."
"I see."
"...That's unexpected. I figured you'd chew me out for making a fuss over something so small."
"A trial that looks trivial to others can still be worse than hell for the one living it. How could I presume to measure that pain?"
Locking a child in the house is abuse, period. Why is she even hedging like that...
Zion had spent her entire life in the modern world, save for two months. By her standards, it was abuse, no question. But the Tower was a different story. On every floor except the Floor of Beginnings, monsters and bandits lurked at every turn. Locking a child away for their own protection was considered perfectly acceptable — even if it went on for years.
"...Ah."
"Are you all right?!"
"S-sorry. It just... all came flooding up at once. I didn't mean to..."
To some, it might have looked like a reasonable precaution. To others, the love of a parent who cherished their child too much. Everyone Ifrit had ever spoken to had framed it that way. Had they meant it from the heart? Or had they simply been afraid of crossing the Ice Emperor? Either way, no one had ever understood her.
"I escaped somehow. It happened to be during the Wild Hunt. The odds of dying were higher, but I figured dying was better."
"..."
"Call it reckless if you want. I couldn't help it. If I was going to spend my whole life locked in that castle... I'd rather die outside."
When Zion's expression hardened into something stern, Ifrit started making excuses. It was, admittedly, the kind of stunt you couldn't really defend. But the reason Zion's face had actually gone rigid wasn't what Ifrit assumed...
What the hell is the Wild Hunt...?
"Luckily, a Ranker who was holding the Wild Hunt at bay rescued me, and that's how I made it all the way to the Floor of Beginnings."
"...So that's how you became an adventurer."
"Yeah. But even after that, the Ice Emperor got in my way at every turn. Anytime something felt off, it was always him."
Ifrit poured out every emotion she had been holding back, and Zion simply sat beside her, nodding, listening. Unfortunately, Zion had no expertise in this kind of thing. All she could do was listen. But that was enough. Having someone she trusted hear her out was more than enough.
"...I ended up showing you a pretty pathetic side of myself."
"It's all right. That's what friends are for."
"Friends..."
"D-do you not like that?"
"No. I just thought it had a nice ring to it."
Friends. That single word resonated in her chest. At first, Ifrit had approached this hidden NPC purely to gain power. But somewhere along the way, just as Zion had come to think of her as a friend, Ifrit had come to think of Zion the same way.
Still, public and private had to be kept strictly separate. Ifrit tried to get up at once, but Zion stopped her.
"You need to rest a little longer."
"I'm fine, this is nothing... agh?!"
"Fine, my foot. You collapse if I so much as poke you in the side with a finger."
It had been nothing more than a light jab to the ribs, yet Ifrit crumpled with a strangely suggestive cry, going down as if the whole thing were a lie. She wasn't injured, exactly — but the backlash from pushing her flames past their limit at the end was clearly catching up to her.
Zion clicked her tongue. The drawbacks were considerable for now, but with training, this could become a devastating asset.
"Ugh, guess I don't have a choice. For now, I'll just have to be satisfied with awakening this new power."
"That's right. Recovery comes first."
"Thanks, Zion. Looks like I won't have to force myself to decipher that book anymore."
"Pardon? A book?"
"The one you gave me as a gift. I actually commissioned people to interpret it, hoping there was a way to get stronger. They all failed, though..."
Ah. That. Only then did Zion remember. The book that had been lying in a corner of the half-destroyed chapel — she'd given it out as a reward. She'd ignored it until now, but hearing this, she was a little curious about the contents. Not that she could find out anytime soon...
The requirements to become a Ranker were surprisingly simple.
Clear the 70th Floor Hall of Trials under your own power. Only adventurers who met that condition were granted Ranker status. Compared to the mere hundred High Rankers, the bar might have looked generously low. But with Rankers numbering just over ten thousand among hundreds of thousands of adventurers, it was hardly an easy threshold.
And the qualification wasn't permanent. Every three years, you had to return to the 70th Floor and retake the exam. Fail or forfeit, and you became a "former" Ranker. Which raised a natural question.
If "former" Rankers existed... surely there were "former" High Rankers as well?
Of course there were. Most of them simply faded from memory, overtaken in achievements or raw power. But right now, in this dusty, ramshackle mage tower, a rather peculiar "former" High Ranker made her home...
A frame so small and slight it looked ready to blow away on the wind, and beautiful purple hair that spilled past her waist all the way to her ankles. She had the face of a young girl, yet her violet eyes held not a trace of life — as vacant as a corpse's.
"Master."
"..."
"I have good news."
Hair like pure gold drawn into impossibly fine threads and woven together, skin as white as porcelain. A maid whose beauty seemed to mock the finest work of master artisans approached the girl sitting in a daze. The girl didn't even reply. Despite the rather rude silence, the woman let it pass as if she were used to it.
"I've obtained information regarding a new book."
"..."
"Master, have you perhaps heard of the Saintess of Beginnings?"
At that wholly unexpected phrase, the girl's neck — which had been tilted toward the ceiling — creaked around like a rusted machine.
"The Saintess of Beginnings. An NPC who appeared in the Tower without warning during the last Great Upheaval."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"Wildfire, the first to make contact with the Saintess of Beginnings, has been seeking people to interpret the contents of a book."
"Don't tell me that book is...??"
"Yes. It appears to be a book she received from the Saintess of Beginnings."
BOOM!
With a thunderous crash, the girl's body sprang up like a coil. She landed naturally atop the desk and struck a pose. It was an exceedingly bizarre stance... but the maid made no move to point that out.
"You discovered an unknown ancient tome, and you didn't even come to ME to interpret it?! You've got some nerve, Wildfire! Fuhahaha!!"
"Wildfire would not be aware of Master's existence in the first place."
"...Excuse me?!"
The maid's ice-cold interjection froze the girl's expression solid. She whipped her head around and glared. Terrifying mana rippled in those violet eyes, but the aura was closer to a child's tantrum than actual dignity.
"You expect me to believe she doesn't know me? I, Violet, the Purple Lightning, who shines at 98th in the Tower?!"
"The Sage already ranks higher than Master. Why would she commission you?"
"That guy is my disciple, I'll have you know!"
The Sage, ranked 12th in the Tower. The chief advisor to the Emperor, foremost among the Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, and the pinnacle of all magic... was the disciple of this little girl? Surprisingly, the maid didn't deny it. She merely relayed what the public believed.
"I am well aware. It's simply that the world has it the other way around..."
"Ugh!!"
"Furthermore, Master is currently not a High Ranker. You aren't even a Ranker."
"What? I'm not a High Ranker? Why the hell not??"
"Well, you did shut yourself in the Tower for fifty years, devoted entirely to research and interpretation."
A High Ranker's ranking was determined by a comprehensive evaluation of combat prowess, quests, monster subjugation, and other achievements. Becoming a High Ranker was hard. Staying one was harder. And she'd spent a full fifty years doing nothing? In a world where competitors surged up the ranks with terrifying speed, falling behind was all but inevitable.
"Tsk. If we're talking pure ability, I'm the strongest..."
"And whom would you blame? You were the one who said only a fool would get worked up over public opinion and rankings, and proceeded to cut yourself off from the world..."
"Okay, okay, I get it already, so cut the lecture!"
"Do you intend to go out, then?"
"The thirsty one digs the well, after all. Besides, I've been meaning to meet this so-called Saintess of Beginnings eventually."
The maid nodded. Anything was better than rotting in a place like this, staring at the ceiling.
Unlike the other High Rankers, an eccentric mage who delights in exploring the unknown.
And now, she was on the move.