Mage Frang
"Pfft!"
Raelly laughed at my earnest confession. The laugh twisted into a grimace a second later — her run-through stomach must have made its objections known.
"...What's so funny?"
"Come on, Argal. Immortals don't exist."
Don't exist? I'm standing right here.
Judging by her face, she didn't believe a word of it.
"It was a pretty good joke, though."
"Think about it. I throw myself in front of people every single time. I do it because I can't die—"
She caught my hand and held on tight.
"Even if you really were an Immortal, Argal, that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt."
"..."
"You put on this act like you've changed, but inside you're still that fragile young master."
Both of her hands locked around mine. The feeling in that grip was so thick it caught in my throat — so heavy I couldn't find a single word.
"I don't take that kind of devotion as proof you're immortal."
"...."
"Being immortal doesn't mean you'd stake your life to save someone. That's just who you are."
"What are you even—"
"Anyone can see it's a lie. A lie you tell so people won't throw their lives away trying to protect you."
Raelly smiled. There was so much worry packed into that smile it almost hurt to look at.
"Even if you truly believe that — if you actually die, there's no taking it back. So don't throw yourself away."
She didn't believe I couldn't die. Or rather — even if she let herself believe it, the thought of what would happen if she was wrong, if I actually died and there was no undoing it, terrified her too much to accept. It all came down to the same thing: don't die.
Don't die. Directed at someone whose entire meaning exists only in dying.
Before the regression, the epithet Immortal had always ridden in front of my name. And now, even when I told the truth, no one believed me. The irony was almost funny.
Back then I'd died and come back so many times the rumors had saturated the continent. Say the word and people believed you. That wasn't the case anymore. Shout I am Immortal in the middle of a crowded street and you'd be treated like a lunatic — not like something that couldn't die. The Immortal who had once shaken the continent simply wasn't here.
I sent Raelly out through the barrier.
"Just rest for now."
"Okay... I'll... get some sleep..."
On the edge of unconsciousness, she left me with one last thing.
The barrier that had swallowed all that magi sealed itself shut, as if one person passing through was all it intended to allow. And I went down right where I stood. Even the magi that had been holding my body together was gone.
"Are you all right?!"
The Hero caught me as I fell.
"Argal!"
Frang came running right behind her. Right. One left.
Raelly — I can't give you what you want. As an Immortal, I still have one more death left to die.
A carriage rolled onto a desolate stretch of road. The city it was heading toward had been overflowing with festival cheer only a short while ago. That cheer had long since curdled into something gray and heavy, and not many carriages were making the trip anymore.
A girl sat alone inside. She propped her chin on one hand, watching the scenery smear past the window, and muttered under her breath.
"...I'm gonna drop dead. For real."
Besia had been forced to cut her recovery short and head for the Academy. Every jolt of the carriage sent a fresh ache rolling through her, but there was nothing to be done about it. She might as well spend the trip cursing the one responsible.
"Has he lost his damn mind? Taking the practical in that body?"
The Bishop had tried to stop her. She hadn't been able to sit still. Every last examinee taking the practical exam had been sealed inside a black-magic barrier — and from the sound of it, Argal was in there with them. The maid who served him had even sent a letter to the Bishop, begging him to save her master. There was no way Besia wouldn't have found out.
So she had dragged her wrecked body onto a carriage and pointed it at the Academy. The Bishop had worried. Her resolve hadn't so much as flickered. If he died and came back again, she wasn't sure she would be able to stand it.
"Crazy bastard. Absolute crazy bastard. When he gets back, he's dead. I'll kill him myself."
Whatever had possessed him to sit that practical, she was not going to let it slide. A few punishments had already taken shape in her head.
"Right. First I lock him in a room for a month. No leaving."
They'd read together. She'd make him memorize scripture, recite the holy prayers — that ought to settle him down. Or would it? Would he just absorb a bunch of lessons about devotion and go even harder at throwing himself in front of people?
She was still entertaining that particular fantasy when she felt the Academy drawing close. Not that she was heading there. The practical site wasn't on Academy grounds.
"Coachman — change of direction!"
"Yes, Priestess!"
Magi so dense it made her whole body prickle. Building a barrier out of that much of it — even Besia was stunned by the scale. No one short of a Transcendent could have done it. And still, she was sure of herself. She hadn't been recognized for it, but she believed her power had already reached a Saintess's level.
As the carriage closed in, a crowd came into view around the barrier. Priests and Holy Knights of the Church. People who looked like Academy staff. The professors who made up the institution's core. Even someone in the kind of robes that could only belong to the Dean.
A small army of priests was pouring Holy Power into the barrier as hard as they could. It hadn't made a speck of difference. The mood around them was sliding from concern toward something closer to panic.
"When is the Swordmaster supposed to arrive?"
"He isn't. Monsters are pouring out of the Northern Region."
"Damn it — of all times..."
"And why did the Saintess Candidate have to be in another country right now..."
While everyone else was drowning in worry, Besia walked straight up to the barrier. One of the priests spotted her coming and moved to cut her off.
"Ah — Sister. If you've come to help breach the barrier, I have to advise against it. It won't make a difference."
"He's right. We've poured Holy Power into it for three days and nights without so much as a hairline crack."
"Move."
Besia waved him off and walked right up to the thing. The priest who'd tried to stop her scratched his head and stepped aside.
Standing before that black-lit wall, Besia poured every last drop of Holy Power she had into it. A vast light swallowed the space whole.
"This can't be..."
"A miracle like this is even possible...?"
The Holy Power drawing those gasps was the kind people called Saintess-level. Every priest nearby turned to stare. So did the faculty clustered on the far side, still trying to hammer out a plan. Faced with that transcendent flood of light, the barrier finally gave. Holes began to open in something that had been utterly impenetrable.
The crowd erupted.
"Ohh!"
"It's opening — we can break through!"
The look on Besia's own face, though, was folding in on itself. Even as she poured the power out, she could feel the limit of it. The barrier was repairing itself at a terrifying speed. She wasn't destroying it. She was punching a hole — briefly — barely wide enough for two people to squeeze through. The second she stopped, that hole would slam shut.
She snapped the words out.
"Strongest person here — one of you, now!"
"What's going on?"
"I can't hold this gap! Someone has to go in right now!"
The professors startled, then started sorting candidates with a forced calm.
"Perhaps the Dean should go?"
"If we're talking about the strongest person here, that would of course be the Dean."
"It's been a long time since I was in the field. I'm not what I used to be."
"Then who..."
Wanting to save the examinees was one thing. Leaping into a barrier whose interior could hold any kind of horror was another. If they could all go in together, someone might have found the nerve. But just the two of them — this priestess and whoever volunteered — was a different calculation entirely. Far too dangerous.
And then, while nobody else would take a step, someone walked forward.
"I'll go in."
A woman. Her hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days, and her clothes were so rumpled she might have crawled out of a storage closet. None of it dimmed her. A full, striking figure, brown hair, grey eyes — the kind of face that pulled a breath out of you just by existing.
The professors stared.
"Professor Ophelia..."
"You're involving yourself in this?"
Asking someone why they wanted to go save people was almost an insult. With Ophelia, it was a fair question. She was a professor who cared about nothing but her own research — the kind of person who wouldn't glance up if the world came down around her ears. Nobody had even expected her to show up.
Ophelia dug a crumpled exam paper out of her pocket. One of the professors pushed his glasses up and identified it at a glance.
"...That's this year's written exam, isn't it? Magical Theory. You wrote that test."
"This last question."
She flicked the paper with a finger. Something feverish and strange had lit behind her eyes.
"There's a human in there who came this close to the right answer."
"...And what exactly does that mean?"
"You don't need to know."
Even the people who had never met Ophelia learned everything they needed to know about her personality from that one line. A murmur ran through the crowd.
"Who — who is that?"
"...Her temperament leaves something to be desired. Her ability, I can vouch for."
She didn't so much as glance at any of them. She strolled over to Besia at her own unhurried pace.
"Priestess. What's your name?"
"...Besia."
"Alright, Besia. Let's go in together."
"Are you the strongest person here?"
Ophelia huffed a quiet laugh.
"I used to be a Tower Lord, so... yeah."
Besia still hadn't forgotten how strong the Black Tower Lord had been. The title itself was a symbol — the peak of what a mage could become. Even the Black Tower Lord, Argal going all-out, hadn't been able to put down. They'd barely driven him off by offering a life to a demon. There was no reason not to trust that kind of strength.
"I'll count to three."
The instant the Holy Power stopped, the hole in the barrier would slam shut. They had to be through it before that happened. Besia started counting, bleeding the output down as she went. The gap that had been holding open began to close at a frightening clip.
"Now!"
The two of them launched themselves through. In the space of a breath, the barrier sealed completely — locked down tight, without so much as a seam.
"So, basically..."
Every pair of eyes in the place had locked onto me. Why is everyone so interested all of a sudden?
It wasn't just the key players — Frang, the Hero, the Sword Saint, the Spear Saint. Every last examinee was staring. They want me to explain the dagger's secret? Here? I wasn't usually the type to care about an audience, but this was a bit much. The silent pressure made not explaining feel worse than explaining, so I let out a breath and told them exactly what the dagger was. I'd used black magic right in front of them. Some kind of excuse was unavoidable.
"It's a dagger that lets me use black magic by sacrificing my lifespan."
Frang went white.
"Then—!"
"Stabbing myself with it once doesn't kill me on the spot, so don't—"
"That's not the problem! You used your lifespan!"
Ah. So that was the problem. Frang was worried about the years I'd burned off.
The Hero took my measure with those piercing eyes of hers and read my condition exactly. Something dark had settled over her face.
"Calculating the life force expended... it would come to roughly forty years. A truly wicked artifact. One that must never be used..."
Worried stares piled onto me from every direction. Worrying that an Immortal was going to die young felt more than a little strange. And yet, for some reason, I found myself making excuses.
"Forty years of lifespan to save one person. Cheap, if you ask me."
"...Do you honestly believe that makes sense?"
The Sword Saint let out a hollow laugh. His face said the idea of forty years being "cheap" was the most absurd thing he'd heard all day.
"You're far too devoted, Argal. I've thought it over, and you and I were never thinking the same way. You're the kind of man who belongs in the Church — a Saint, or a Hero."
I sighed. Even you, Sword Saint? Nothing for it, then. I changed the subject.
"Hero. You know this isn't the time."
"...I am aware."
She would be. She knew as well as I did that there was another high-ranking demon still waiting behind us.
I'd considered sending Frang out through the barrier the same way I had Raelly. I hadn't, for a reason. The high-ranking demons who had watched me punch a hole in their wall and push one person through it were not going to give me a second chance.