Mina the Spirit Mage
I want to grow stronger.
It was a hopelessly vague longing. Ask her why she wanted to be stronger and she had no grand justification to offer—being strong was simply far better than being weak. Whatever threat came her way, she could overcome it with her own strength, and praise and reward, wealth and honor, would follow along on their own.
That was the whole of it—the entire ambition of Mina, a girl who had just turned twenty.
Young as she was, Mina's talent as a spirit mage was overwhelming. Natural gift compounded by relentless effort had carried her skill forward by leaps and bounds.
And yet her master, Alf, strictly forbade her from summoning high-rank spirits. The limit granted to Mina reached no further than mid-rank spirits—and nothing more.
Mid-rank, mind you—spirits whose stature stood on par with a veteran knight. A spirit mage capable of commanding not one of them but several at once was so rare you could hardly find their like anywhere on the continent.
It was proof that Mina's skill had already left the realm of established mages far, far behind.
Even if she still fell immeasurably short of her unfathomable master, Alf.
"It's dangerous. You're still too inexperienced as a mage."
"Until when, exactly?! When am I finally going to be ready?!"
The frustration gnawed at her. Ten years. In all the time since she'd met her master, she had never once stepped out of line—and still Alf's answer never wavered.
"Not yet. When the time comes, I will help you myself. Until then, learn patience."
"I'm an adult now! I'm not a little kid anymore! I want you to acknowledge me as a proper, respectable spirit mage—one real spirit mage!"
"I know. But you already have tremendous skill for your age. So what's the hurry?"
"Because human time is short! You're an elf—you'll never understand!"
Cheeks puffed out like buns, Mina whipped her head away.
For all that show of temper, Mina's heart had tangled itself into knots.
That wasn't what I meant to say.
She hadn't thrown a tantrum out of resentment for Alf. If anything, her heart toward him overflowed with gratitude and respect.
She had been nothing more than an orphan dying in the street. It was Alf who had seen her talent, taken her in, and given her the chance to become someone.
Mina knew better than anyone what wretched lives children born as orphans in this world led before they quietly slipped away. How could she not be grateful?
Everything I've become is thanks to you. I'm your disciple, and proud to be.
One sentence—that was all it would take. So why did those perfectly ordinary feelings only circle her mouth before spilling out as something so childish?
Ten long years at her master's side. However crisp and composed she acted, Mina was still, underneath, a tender-hearted girl; the deeper and older the bond, the more mortifying it became to lay those tender truths bare.
"Don't be in such a hurry. As you say, I am an elf. My life is long enough that I can stand at your side, over and over, until you are fully grown."
But... I'm not. I want to grow up fast and repay you.
Mina glared up at her master with eyes full of complaint, but Alf only let out a long sigh and added nothing more.
Stifled by the stubbornness of her elf master, Mina spent the next few days with her lips perpetually pushed into a pout.
Not that Mina was ever one to slack on her spirit arts training. Quite the opposite—her stubborn streak flared to life: I'll show Master, right before his eyes, exactly how far my skill has come! She trained until the sun touched the mountains, drawing her mana up again and again.
In a quiet corner of the peaceful forest lay the front yard of Alf's cabin. In its center, where warm sunlight fell in a slanting wash, Mina closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. Blue mana kindled at her fingertips, blooming like a dance before settling into a small, exquisitely wrought whirlpool of water.
...
Someone was watching her from beneath the eaves of the cabin—her master, Alf. Teacup in hand, he was quietly savoring his disciple's control of mana.
Swish, swish, swish.
Dozens of water droplets snapped into formation in flawless unison, then reshaped themselves in an instant into arrows of water so sharp they were almost unsettling. It was control far too firm, far too perfect, for a girl of twenty.
"See? And you still call me inexperienced?"
Mina scattered the arrows into the empty air and spun around.
The beads of sweat strung across her forehead caught the sunset and glinted like jewels. Her tone was all grumbling, but her eyes were a child's, plainly pleading, Come on—praise me already.
Alf was hardly a master indifferent to his disciple—if anything, he erred on the side of overprotectiveness. He understood the wish to grow strong, but training had steps that had to be climbed in order. He simply needed to be careful, shaping her slowly like a sculptor at work, so that the great power would never gnaw away at his disciple.
Alf exhaled a light sigh and crossed over to her. Then he drew a soft handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed carefully, thoroughly, at her forehead.
"Impatient as ever, I see. Your touch with mana improves by the day. I marvel at your natural gift every single morning. But there is still a great deal left for you to learn."
"Praise stops counting the moment it ends in a 'but'."
"Haha, those ears of yours are sharp as ever. Yes—it's true that your skill is excellent. But Mina, summoning a high-rank spirit is not a realm you can endure on mana and control alone."
Alf's voice dropped lower. The mischief had drained from his emerald eyes, leaving behind a depth of concern that only someone who had lived for centuries could carry.
"A high-rank spirit is not a mere piece of nature—it is a being that bears a colossal stature in its very existence. The weight of the power it carries is too heavy for you to shoulder. One misstep, and you could be swallowed by that force, your soul torn asunder."
"Tch... I know that much already!"
"And that is not all. The material world we live in and the Spirit Realm are different dimensions entirely. Whenever we open a door to that place, we must first ask leave of those on the other side. And should the dimensional coordinates ever warp—should a door connect somewhere unintended... no one could promise what might come pouring out of that hole."
Alf's gaze darkened further.
"I don't hold you back because I dislike you. I do it because I don't want to lose you."
Genuine worry soaked through her master's voice, and Mina found she couldn't grumble back. She bit her lip instead. Alf gently stroked his disciple's hair.
"For dinner tonight, I'll bake your favorite berry tart. So stop bristling, go inside, and wash your hands."
"...Don't think one berry tart is going to settle this."
Grumbling all the while, she still couldn't keep the corners of her mouth from curling upward.
Not wanting her master to catch the faint flush warming her cheeks, Mina whirled around and scurried toward the cabin in quick little steps.
Inside the cabin, Mina shut her bedroom door behind her and flopped face-first onto the bed.
"Hey, Epi. Do I really still look like a little kid to Master?"
The little water spirit Epi, drifting above her shoulder and shimmering blue, gave a 'Bloop!' and fluttered its tiny droplet wings.
—Bloop?
"...What? What did you just say?"
—Bloop bloop!
"Wh-what are you even saying!"
Mina couldn't hide the flush flooding her face and jolted upright with a cry.
Epi—the very culprit who had said it—simply blinked its round droplet eyes as though it hadn't the faintest idea, blowing idle 'bloop, bloop' bubbles all the while.
—Bloop? Bloop-bloop?
"Wh-what's with that innocent 'I don't know' face?! There's no way I—I don't harbor th-those kinds of feelings for Master! I just want to look good in front of him and be acknowledged, that's all!"
Red to the very tips of her ears, Mina waved her hands frantically, trying to drive Epi off.
But perhaps it was the deep bond between spirit and contractor: Epi, as if it knew her inmost heart far too well, let out a giggling trill and nuzzled its damp droplet body against her cheek.
The touch, cool and ticklish all at once, loosened the tension in her a little.
"Haa... honestly. What good is a spirit that lives for teasing its own master?"
Sprawled across the bed, Mina turned her gaze to the ceiling. Along the grain of the cabin's wooden boards, the gentle lamplight Alf had strung up glowed soft and low.
Master was always perfect.
He had gathered up a young Mina as she shivered with cold and hunger on the street, given her a warm bed and warm meals, and coaxed her gift for spirit arts into full bloom.
Her elf of a master—skilled in the kitchen, unfailingly gentle, always watching over her with those serene, deep eyes.
When she was little, he had simply looked like the greatest hero in the world. Now, a grown woman of twenty, she found he made her heart flutter in a slightly different way.
But in Master's eyes, I suppose I'll be a child for the rest of my life.
To an elf who had lived for centuries, a human girl who had only just turned twenty might be nothing more than a wayside flower—something that blooms for a heartbeat and fades.
Mina breathed out a sigh laced with hurt and bitterness, resting a hand over her chest.
What is it I even want to do?
Just then, a sweet, toasty smell came drifting in from beyond the door—the scent of tangy berry jam bubbling down over a tart crust baking golden.
Knock, knock.
"Mina, dinner's ready. The berry tarts are done, too."
At the gentle voice through the door, Mina shot upright like a spring.
"C-coming! I'm coming out right now!"
She dashed to the mirror, fanned the heat out of her cheeks, smoothed her tangled hair, and opened the door.
The table was set with berry tarts still steaming from the oven, warm herbal tea, and simple grain bread. Alf, apron on, pulled out Mina's chair with a pleased smile.
"You worked hard at your training. Eat as much as you like."
"...Thank you for the meal."
Mina took her seat and lifted her fork with studied solemnity. She wanted to keep up the act—properly angry, the last of her grudge not yet melted—but the moment she bit into the sweet berry tart, the taste of heaven flooding her mouth made her eyes go perfectly round.
Crisp crust, sweet-tart berries, and silky cream, in perfect harmony.
"Mmm~!"
At the groan that escaped her, Mina clapped a hand over her mouth, too late. Across the table, Alf took one look and let out a low chuckle.
"Glad it suits your taste."
"Th-that's only because I was hungry! It's not like your cooking got any better or anything!"
"Yes, yes. If you say so."
Alf nodded indulgently and topped up Mina's teacup with warm herbal tea.
With the distance between them having closed so naturally, Mina caught herself staring, vacant-eyed, at Alf's face.
"Hm? What is it? Is something on my face?"
And then, before she knew it, her eyes locked with Alf's!
"N-no! I was just spacing out!"
"? I see. You must be tired after today. Go inside and rest early."
"Yes, Master!"
Unable to bear another second of embarrassment, Mina darted into her room and shut the door with a bang.
What is wrong with me? Ugh... this is all Epi's fault. Bringing up something ridiculous out of nowhere like that!
Alf regarded the closed door with soft eyes for a moment, then quietly stepped outside to breathe in the night air.
"You there. I know full well you're in there, so come out and show yourself."
Gazing at the forest across from the cabin, where the darkness lay thick and heavy, Alf spoke evenly.
From within a shadow crouched deeper and more sinister than any of the surrounding night, a black-formed spirit slid smoothly into view.
A sleek silhouette shaped like a human, with yellow eyes glowing in an uncanny, feline light.
At a glance it might have passed for a harmless apparition—but the essence of the thing was a darkness spirit that chilled even the surrounding air into stillness. And not just any darkness spirit: one bearing the immense stature of the high ranks.
It was the kind of high-tier spirit that would have made any ordinary mage hold their breath and brace for the worst. To Alf, the elf who had lived for hundreds of years, it looked like nothing more than a cautious young guest.
Alf met the spirit's gaze with his customary gentle eyes.
"What is your name? Might you tell me?"
—Hrrrum...
At his gentle question, the spirit tilted its head and gave off a low, resonant rumble. To an ordinary person it would have been mere mumbling—but Alf could understand it.
"I see—'Rumu,' is it? My name is Alf."
Alf walked slowly toward Rumu, and the crouching spirit rose soundlessly from where it waited.
The silhouette, at first no taller than Alf's eye level, ballooned upward in a heartbeat. The black shadow swelled until it reached the height of the forest's ancient trees, looming far over Alf's head—so vast that he had to crane his neck to take it all in.
"You've been circling that child for some time now, haven't you? Did she catch your eye?"
—Hrrrum!
So it has not been long since it rose to the high ranks.
Alf studied the light in its eyes. When a spirit's rank ascends, it gains tremendous power—but in the period just after its elevation, it cannot yet contain that vast energy, and it scatters wildly into everything around it.
For all its sprawling bulk, those yellow eyes sparkled with artless innocence. In mind, it was still close to a young child not yet fully grown.
That was why Alf had spent all this time quietly weaving his mana around the cabin's grounds, offsetting that heavy darkness so none of it would ever touch Mina directly.
Alf smiled gently and spoke.
"It is a thing to be grateful for, that you are so fond of my disciple... but that child is not yet ready to face a being such as you."
—Hrrrum?
"Yes. I'm sorry, but could you wait a little longer?"
He could sense it, faintly—the creature bore no malice.
But the purer a spirit's goodwill, the more carefully it must be guarded against.
Alf had watched the tragedies unfold countless times—unprepared mages reaching for power far beyond them. Losing control and being swallowed by that power took only an instant.
And a darkness-attribute spirit, mishandled, risks staining even its mage's soul and heart with cold.
But handled well, that same power would become a great strength.
—Hrrrum!
"Thank you for understanding. Someday, when that child can fully govern herself, I will gladly let you be her friend. I am quite certain she will be every bit as fond of you."
The towering dark silhouette rippled with joy and nodded, deep and slow.
A gentle smile spread across Alf's lips as well. Watching a disciple grow from just beside her was one of the few true joys in his immeasurably long life.
And yet, a thread of worry brushed past him.
Lately, flashes of impatience and restlessness kept flickering through Mina's eyes. That precarious longing snagged on his heart, again and again.
Still, it should be all right.
He had time in abundance—more than enough to stand at his disciple's side until she found her proper path.
All of this, too, was simply part of the road she had to walk.
The elven lifespan—at times so endless it felt like a curse—was, in moments like this, the most precious gift he possessed.
In the bleak night wind, the afterimage of a faded old memory suddenly swept through his mind.
A small girl with brown hair.
...I won't let that child end up the same way. Never again.
Sorrowful resolve welled up in Alf's emerald eyes. Never again would he repeat that tragic bond of long ago—so he vowed, quietly, beneath the night sky.