Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Drifter from Another World ~Front Part~
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Selvia, the mage from the Crimson Magic Tower, was making the most of her academy life in her own way. She'd worried she might not keep up with the lectures, but thanks to her innate talent, she absorbed the professors' teachings like a sponge.
In Fundamentals of Elemental Theory, she deepened her understanding of each attribute. In Everything About Close Combat, she learned how a mage should handle melee fights.
She ended up with bruises here and there from getting whacked with quarterstaffs like they were clubs, but they were badges of pride. The more she suffered at the academy, the lower the odds of losing her life out in the real world.
Professor Alexon had given her feedback: "You're great in every way, but you sometimes miss the crucial details. If possible, avoid chaotic battlefields and win with firepower."
She'd felt a pang of frustration—what crucial detail had she missed?—but if a professor went out of his way to warn her, there had to be a reason. She filed it away in her mind.
Surprisingly, the toughest lecture was the deranged nameless mage's Countering Illusion Magic. Escaping that "answer inheritance" or whatever illusion labyrinth had been a nightmare.
Some students from that class still flinched at the idea of opening doors. What if a giant frog lunged out when they opened the bathroom door?
Still, her skills had grown sharply. She got to practice and master various ways to handle areas likely rigged with traps that she absolutely had to cross.
In every class, her roommate Niore stood out.
She had an eye for reading even the tiniest details others missed. That innate talent shone in every field—melee combat, labyrinth escapes. Her only flaw was that her hardware couldn't keep up with her eyes.
Lacking base stats and decisive firepower.
She could read an attack's trajectory but lacked the strength to dodge or block. She could spot a labyrinth's exit but lacked the power to punch through traps.
That's why Selvia teamed up with Niore. Selvia lacked sharp eyes, and Niore lacked firepower—they complemented each other perfectly.
Thanks to that, she and Niore hit it off quickly.
Niore was pure-hearted and kind. She wanted to help others and didn't hesitate to throw herself into danger. She worried a lot and loved praise.
She trained diligently every day without fail and was considerate to a fault. She was the kind of person anyone would like.
Above all, her eyes were beautiful.
They sparkled with pure goodwill, radiating a clear sense of purpose and unwavering drive. Honest eyes.
So.
"Welcome back. How were your lectures...? Something wrong?"
"......"
Selvia couldn't help but notice Niore's change.
Those eyes that once twinkled like stars in the night sky had turned dull and black, like a dead fish's.
===============================================================
It had only been three hours at most.
In just three hours, the person had completely transformed. Her confidence was gone, flickering feebly like a candle in the wind. Her lips were parched and cracked, her hands trembling like she was being chased.
Had some huge incident happened?
"What in the world...? No, not now. Sit down first."
Selvia took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She couldn't afford to panic. She grabbed Niore's limp, paper-doll-like hand and led her to the bed.
Then she recalled an old memory—one with a useful lesson.
Back in her rural village, whenever she fought with her parents and cried alone, her childhood friend boy would brew warm tea from somewhere and make her drink it. He said body and mind were closely linked, so warmth inside would improve her mood.
Then he'd gently ask what happened, listen to her story to the end, and guide her words toward finding her own path forward.
She couldn't do it as skillfully as him, but...
Knowing how much comfort it brought to have someone listen, Selvia decided to invest time in helping Niore. She could skip today's mana training.
Selvia went down to the dorm kitchen, made a mug of hot cocoa, and brought it back. She handed it to Niore, then asked carefully.
"...If something's bothering you, want to talk about it? I want to help you, Niore."
"......"
Finishing her words, Selvia sat beside her and waited patiently.
Niore felt the mug's warmth. It was just the right temperature—not too hot to burn her tongue. A small detail, but full of care.
Slurp.
Niore wasn't hungry, but for Selvia's sake, she took a sip. It was better than expected. Warmth spread through her body.
Niore carefully wrote her words down.
[I wanted to help someone.]
"That's so you, Niore..."
[I believe it's right. If someone needs help, you lend a hand. Even if people call it foolish, helping others was my joy, and I thought it made the world better. But...]
Because she'd tried to save someone else, Abraham died. If she hadn't reached out then, if she'd gone back to the mansion in the carriage with him. The stargazing old man would have lived.
Or at least, if she hadn't dragged Bennett and Tara into saving people together but gone alone. The old man would have lived. Or if she'd been stronger before that. If she'd had power, maybe.
So her sin was.
[Because I tried to save one person, I couldn't save another. I still believe saving people is right. But my choice... I regret it. I hate myself for thinking I could save everyone when I had no power and was just begging Bennett and Tara for help like a fool.]
Acting on greed with half-baked strength, dragging others into her beliefs.
[I should have ignored it. It would have been better to walk away. I think that over and over. And then I start hating it. Why did the kidnapping happen that day, that hour? Why did they catch my eye...? It was my choice, but it's ridiculous...]
Arrogance.
[I'm just sorry to Tara and Bennett. If I hadn't asked for their help, they wouldn't have to share my regrets. If I'd had Bennett's wisdom to judge what's truly important. Then...]
Niore was still circling in her regrets. The girl who'd faced the trolley dilemma blamed herself for lacking the strength to stop the train.
Devouring magic tomes while grinding down her mind was both self-punishment and desperate resolve never to face this again.
Selvia read Niore's words carefully, gathered her thoughts, and spoke.
"People are still dying on the eastern front right now."
[...?]
"In Crownhold's slums, in some nameless mountain valley, in dark dungeons. People die everywhere. Should we feel guilty about that?"
[No...]
"Why not?"
[......]
Selvia stretched her arms out straight.
"Simple reason. We can't directly help the soldiers on the eastern front from here. Our arms don't reach that far. People can only fix what's within arm's reach."
[...But I could reach Abraham. Tara and Bennett could too. I was the one who interfered.]
"I don't know the details, but... from what you've said, you didn't know the situation. The Niore I know? If two people were in danger and allies were nearby, you'd suggest splitting up to save them both at once."
[There were signs Abraham was in danger. If I'd paid more attention, I could have noticed.]
"The Niore I know is passionate and hardworking in everything. In that moment, you definitely did your best. I get the regrets. I'm not saying don't feel them. But..."
Selvia grabbed Niore's cheeks and stretched them wide.
"Stop acting like every tragedy in the world is your fault, Niore."
"......"
"And logically, you blame the ones who did wrong—not the ones who tried to save. Everyone would think that, right? Well... saying this won't magically fix your heart."
Selvia hugged Niore tightly, sharing her energy with her guilt-ridden friend. People could bolster each other by sharing hearts.
"At least I think you did nothing wrong. Must have been tough... You did well, Niore. It'll be okay. You can overcome this. Here."
"......Uu, ugh."
Selvia pretended not to notice her shoulder getting wet.
She hoped Niore would overcome her regrets and turn them into drive, instead of drowning in them. She still couldn't guess what happened in those three hours, but...
They stayed embraced like that for a long while.
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Time flew by. No matter what the students went through, the academic schedule didn't wait, so the dungeon expedition proceeded smoothly.
They loaded the listed students into carriages, exited the academy's south gate boulevard, and headed for the dungeon. Inside the rattling carriage on the way.
"......"
Bennett inwardly sighed in relief. Tara was still hysterical, but Niore seemed much better. At least one of them had pulled herself together.
After half a day in the jolting carriage, they'd reach the dungeon entrance. The professors let students form teams voluntarily to enter. Badges were placed deep inside—bring one back to pass.
Some mediocre groups of ten clumped together; others went solo. Bennett, Tara, and Niore naturally grouped up—they'd lived together for six days, after all.
"...This team okay again? Everyone?"
[Fine by me...]
"What, trying to kick me out of the party...?!"
"No one said that, Tara. No one."
They fell into positions naturally. Niore with powerful spells at the rear. Tara in the middle for holy magic support. Bennett up front...
"...Can't use outer god spells outside, right?"
[Oh.]
Niore moved to the front. Without outer gods to borrow power from in this world, her learned spells had no effect outdoors.
[Trap here.]
"Got it. Tara, don't rush ahead."
"I didn't go forward!"
The three progressed through the dungeon adeptly. No worry about fanatic magic eased their minds. Simple arrow traps? Bennett could block them, and Niore spotted them anyway.
[What next?]
"First... steal the vault somehow. Then."
Destroy the magic circle summoning the outer god. Conveniently, as a black mage, I know it—the academy has similar ones. Hide small circles everywhere to build a massive one.
The report mentioned strange brands hidden around the city. Connect them, and they'd form a huge magic circle. Erase or alter those hidden brands to delay their plan.
There's a desperate reason to stop the summoning. Black mages are trying to call outer gods here. I know because I'm one.
"......"
She couldn't say that.
"Then just kill every Silver Twilight cultist we see, right?"
[But too dangerous.]
"We have safeguards. We're still fine."
[Still, if we get hit by mind magic...]
How to explain? Tell the party, and they'll ask the source. Admit being a black mage? Too risky.
Even if planning to betray and defect, would they believe? When even I was wavering?
Too much to lose. All academy ties gone, life in danger. But...
But maybe, miraculously, they'd understand. Accept a black mage me. That'd be ideal—build trust, easy to betray later.
Bennett's mind grew tangled. Decision time someday; now was decent timing.
Niore might accept. Tara... unsure. But maybe...
Wait.
Right now... do I want them to affirm me as a black mage?
"......Ha."
Bennett thunked her head against the dungeon wall.
"Wh-what? Why suddenly?"
[Feel like ants crawling in your ear or something...?]
"...No, nothing. Hey, important thing to say."
Say it. If worst happens—kill them here. Fake disappearance in the dungeon. Steeling for that false resolve, as Bennett opened her mouth.
[......]
Niore dropped her whiteboard with a clack. She stared through the dungeon wall like she'd seen the impossible.
"Niore, you too? Did you get magicked...?"
"Ah, ugh..."
Niore pointed at the wall with her finger. Next to a classic pressure-plate trap, someone had kindly arrowed "TRAP," scratched in.
Maybe just some dungeon user's courtesy, but...
That wasn't the point. Niore frantically grabbed her board and wrote.
[Handwriting.]
"...Handwriting?"
[Abraham's.]
"......What does that mean, Niore? What."
Bennett and Tara stared at the scratches, entranced. They lacked the eyes to discern handwriting. No matter how hard they looked, no certainty.
But Niore's reaction burned those three letters into their minds—maybe.
Niore chased the traces. Low on the walls, sporadic "TRAP" marks. Nearby, broken springs or metal shards. She was certain. Abraham's handwriting.
They reached a storage room for cleaning golems managing the dungeon. Bursting in the door, there.
A half-destroyed cleaning golem with exposed circuits was scratching elegant letters into the wall with metal scraps.
Not what they'd hoped for.
They'd hoped for the familiar old man's face, smiling wrinkled, saying it had been a while, that life's unpredictable. A miraculous reunion.
Not the poor old man's soul, devoured by an evil god, stuffed into a broken cleaning golem.
Tara muttered in a trembling voice.
"...Abraham?"
The cleaning golem moved its arm. Slowly scraping the wall, etching letters. The final words shattered even remaining hopes.
It wasn't even a reunion.