Dragon's Breath (1)
Anna Greenhilt.
The girl stood behind her younger brother Roy, one year her junior, and watched with her own two eyes as the fiercely blazing flames of the hut were gradually brought under control.
Never in her life had her heart pounded this hard.
Roy was clearly her little brother, younger by a year.
Yet not only was he casting magic she herself could not manage—he had extinguished a fire that several adults had failed to put out no matter how hard they tried. That tiny Roy.
Roy began chanting another spell.
Magic incantations she could never quite remember no matter how hard she tried.
Yet that small boy already knew several that were far longer and more difficult.
Roy...
Afraid of interrupting him, Anna made not a single sound. She simply gripped the door handle tightly and stared endlessly at her brother's back.
Today, for some reason, her little brother Roy felt enormously large.
Anna stepped past Roy, who had poured out every last scrap of his energy and now lay sprawled on the floor, and pressed close to the window.
The hut that had burned so brightly, lighting up the surroundings, no longer showed even a single ember. Instead, the pitch-black night left nothing visible at all.
Then, far in the distance, someone lit torches, illuminating the view. As those torches drew nearer, the scene outside the window slowly came into focus.
"Young miss. What are you doing over there?"
"Huh? Ah!"
Fearing a scolding, Anna hastily ducked below the window and hid. But the people soon came closer still, and the torchlight began to flood the room with brightness as well.
"Young Master Roy? And who else is that over there?"
"......"
Misha, apparently too embarrassed, hiked up the skirt of her maid uniform and covered her face with it. Her white petticoat was on full display, but that was a hundred—no, a thousand—times better than having her face seen.
Only then did the people begin to murmur among themselves, trying to piece together what had happened.
"Don't tell me that magic was the young master's?"
"Come on, that's impossible. No matter how talented he is, with that tiny body?"
Then the voices cut off abruptly. Chief Butler Ibaldo had approached.
"Misha. Explain what is going on here. Why are the young miss and the young master in this place?"
Misha still refused to lower the skirt covering her face.
"Speak at once!"
"Hiiing. It wasn't my fault. I only did exactly as Young Master Roy told me to."
Misha briefly explained the sequence of events. At the revelation that Roy had done it all alone, everyone outside the window could not hide their astonishment. But with the chief butler present, no one dared raise their voice.
"Is Young Master Roy unharmed?"
"Yes. He's just... a little exhausted, it seems."
Only then did Ibaldo press a hand to his forehead and heave a deep sigh. Anna, who had still been hiding under the window, finally realized Roy had collapsed and rushed over.
"Roy! Roy!? Are you okay?"
She shook him so hard that Roy, who had been pretending to be unconscious, had no choice but to answer.
"Uuung..."
"Phew. Thank goodness."
"You're not hurt anywhere either, Anna?"
"Mm. Anna's fine."
Anna peered down curiously at Roy's face as he lay sprawled and unmoving.
"Are you tired?"
"......"
Roy gave no reply, only blinking. Then he suddenly sat bolt upright.
"Roy!?"
Without a word of answer, Roy dashed straight out the door. Anna had no idea what had gotten into him, but she followed without thinking.
Startled by the sight, Ibaldo shouted,
"What are you all standing around for! Seize the two of them at once! There may still be intruders in the main building!"
The people who had been standing dazed until then snapped back to their senses and began to move again.
Having confirmed that the fire in the hut was completely out, Roy hurriedly left the annex building. Then he headed straight for the main mansion.
Not through the central entrance, but through the servants' entrance concealed on the side of the building—a passage mainly used by the maids. Through it he first raced up to his own room on the second floor.
Outside, the servants were searching for him with torches, but he moved hidden in the shadows and fortunately went unnoticed. After gathering a few items from his room, the boy made for the central staircase of the main building that led down to the reception hall on the first floor.
It's strangely quiet...
As he neared the stairs he slowed his pace, careful with every footstep so as not to be heard by anyone below.
Is it already over?
Yet the first floor was unnaturally silent. And an unpleasant smell began to creep upward.
The smell of... blood?
Halfway down the stairs the scent of blood grew thick. No corpses were in sight, but someone had clearly been badly hurt.
It can't be...
Roy descended to the first floor with extreme caution. It seemed the front door was still locked; the servants were milling about outside it. He considered opening the door, then shook his head. Most of them possessed only the feeblest mana. One wrong move and they could lose their lives in an instant.
"...!?"
Then he heard voices—someone conversing. The sound came from the stairs leading down to the basement. The basement door, always kept locked, stood half open, and a faint light leaked from beyond it.
Huu...
Roy moved toward the basement, taking every care not to be noticed, while silently preparing a spell at the same time.
Just as he reached the foot of the stairs—
With a loud rattle the door to the underground warehouse swung open. The large, masked man who appeared to be the leader kept a Lighting spell active as he moved deeper into the warehouse. The others seemed content to wait for his return at the entrance.
Ana!?
The glimpse around the corner made Roy freeze. Geren already looked on the verge of death, and Ana herself was a mess—hair disheveled, covered in wounds from head to toe. Her clothes were so torn she could scarcely be recognized as a baron's wife. In that state her hands, feet, and even her mouth were tightly bound.
And that one... is Boodle?
In contrast, Boodle, bound beside her, looked relatively unharmed.
They were completely overwhelmed, it seems... Did Boodle surrender midway and get beaten less for it?
Roy was torn. The situation was far too dire. If those three had been defeated, then no matter how outstanding Roy might be, he stood little chance alone. With this young, frail body, and with his mana already nearly drained from putting out the fire—what could he possibly do right now? If he rushed in recklessly he might simply get himself killed for nothing.
Just run away like this?
Above all, his own life came first. Perhaps because of his previous life's memories, he had never felt for the baron—or even the baroness—the deep affection one feels for true parents. Of course, over time a certain fondness had grown, but if asked whether he would stake his life and leap into certain death for them, the answer was an absolute no.
More than anything...
With this tiny body he simply could not muster the courage to charge in.
While Roy wrestled with himself, the masked men continued their work. Another rattle sounded—farther away this time, coming from inside the underground warehouse, out of Roy's sight.
He canceled one of the spells he had prepared and instead cast a magic he himself had created in his previous life: a spell that greatly amplified the surrounding sounds.
"Acutis Auris"
⟨ Precise Hearing ⟩
At once the voices from inside the underground warehouse rang in his ears with crystalline clarity.
"Kehehehe. It was here after all!"
The first sound that reached him with the spell's activation was the large masked man's laughter and muttering as he moved deeper into the warehouse.
"Those damned rich bastards hid this good stuff and were drinking it all by themselves. Can't have that, can we, Cliv? Hehehe."
Roy realized the "rich bastards" the man referred to were his current grandfather and father. And that was not all.
The words "good stuff," "hid," and "drinking" brought only one thing to mind. No—he could not help but think of it. It was the very thing he had so desperately desired.
It can't be...!?
Roy recalled the conversation he had shared with the baron not long ago.
Dragon's Breath.
The miraculous elixir that, with a single sip, permanently increased one's mana capacity beyond the limits of bloodline.
Don't tell me it was here? Right under the mansion?
From the baron's reaction at the time he had been certain the man had already consumed Dragon's Breath. Yet to think that such a precious treasure had been stored deep within this very estate...
The ancient proverb about the blind men under the torchlight sprang to mind.
But why would the baron hide something so precious down here in a basement to rot?
Had there simply been too much, so that he drank some and left the rest? Roy himself would never have done so. He would have drained every last drop. No matter how foul the taste.
Roy's eyes blazed like twin flames. The light of pure greed.
I absolutely cannot let them take that.
All thoughts of playing it safe had already vanished. The boy was already licking his lips. A fierce thirst rose within him—a thirst that could be quenched only by Dragon's Breath.
I'll have to use that method. The question is whether this damn body can endure it.
Roy decided to resort to a trump card he rarely employed. An unstable mana solution made from orc blood and cheap magic stones. He had brought the remaining few bottles—left over after enchanting his dagger—from his room just in case.
Yet this low-grade solution was not something he could put to immediate use, no matter how high his magical skill. There was, however, one way to temporarily and dramatically raise its quality.
And that was...
Huu...
Roy drew a deep breath in silence so that no one would hear, then drew the dagger he had brought along with the solution. Softly, he sliced open his own palm.