Trixie von Fritz.
Trixie von Fritz.
"If it had been you... you would never have succeeded."
That single sentence tore straight into Trixie's heart.
Her body, rigid as a statue, showed no sign of movement. Drops of sweat ran ceaselessly down the line of her jaw.
"If you still believe you have the qualifications to be the representative, say so. I'll put your name on the list."
"...."
It was a chance to put her name on the list. But her lips would not part.
She shook her head, ever so slightly, from side to side.
She couldn't put her name forward like this. At this level of flame, she would achieve nothing at the Subjugation Festival.
She would only disgrace the family name, and far from solving her mother's mystery, she would likely only repeat past failures.
The next moment, she shook her head more firmly from side to side.
The motion would not stop.
Her stamina was spent, and her spirit now shattered into fragments.
She simply wanted to concede defeat cleanly and escape. To a place with nothing, even a second sooner.
It was then that Plan spoke.
"Still playing the genius."
Those words struck Trixie's ears like a thunderbolt.
Their gazes met in the empty air. The self reflected in Plan's red eyes was trembling—shabby and pathetic.
"You aren't afraid of defeat."
No. That statement was wrong. Trixie was afraid of defeat. This situation—broken in front of everyone—was unfamiliar and terrifying.
"You're afraid of appearing inelegant in the eyes of others."
But Trixie's thoughts were swept away entirely by Plan's next words.
It was the truth, and her heart plummeted. Just a few words.
"You can never show yourself spitting fire, pouring out your full strength, gritting your teeth and challenging your limits."
Her breath caught in her throat. Facing herself was unbearable.
"Because you think it isn't elegant."
From this point, the whole scene washed white. She stood dazed at the center of a space where nothing existed but silence.
However.
It was then that Plan lowered his head to meet her eye level.
"Then allow me to ask you a few things."
Even within a field of vision bleached wholly white, his voice alone was excessively clear.
"Would you truly not have succeeded?"
A sudden, unexpected question.
"Is it truly so impossible that even if you steeled your resolve, spat fire, and gritted your teeth to the breaking point and tried... you still couldn't do it? Is that it."
A question mark was abruptly tossed into Trixie's heart.
"And if you did try, would that sight truly be inelegant?"
That question mark began to multiply.
"A mage who attempts and proves, a mage who challenges even when proof fails, something trapped in the frame of a genius unable even to attempt...."
Two, three. The number swelled madly.
"...Which of these is elegant, and which is unsightly."
Finally, at some point.
"And further, which of these is a genius."
"!"
Somewhere deep inside Trixie's chest, something began to kindle.
"I never wished for you to become unsightly."
A small heat began to spread throughout her entire body.
"Though rather, I do hope you become elegant."
It wasn't visible to the eye, but Trixie knew. This, too, was the blue flame named passion.
"I'll ask you one last question at this point."
Plan lifted his head erect once more.
"Trixie, do you remember."
The tip of his chin indicated the Flame Core that had fallen to the floor.
"How many Flame Cores I melted last."
By the time she heard those words, her whole body was already hot.
It wasn't painful or arduous. Simply, in a short span of time, she began to reflect on the meanings of mage and Fritz.
A mage is one who advances upright toward truth.
An elegant being who walks with magic as their companion, leisurely roams the world, and proves near-miraculous deeds.
If she did not forget that she walked this path, if she did not give up in the face of hardship, if she stood up and tried again however many times it took... was that not, in itself, elegant?
'To burn something, first set yourself aflame.'
Trixie ruminated on the Fritz family precept.
The correct answer had been close by from the very start. She felt she now understood what this radical precept—to willingly set fire to one's own body—was trying to say.
Even if her whole body soaked with sweat, her teeth ground down, blood spilled, and she blazed up, that would be sufficiently elegant.
Because in that moment, she would truly be born as the blue flame.
"...Of course I remember."
Thirty-nine.
The number of Flame Cores Plan had last melted.
"A hundred."
Trixie murmured the number in a low voice. The Flame Cores that filled her vision like a mass of black clouds were not at all terrifying now.
It was fine even if she couldn't melt them all.
It was fine even if the process looked ridiculous to someone else.
Even if she wasn't a genius... that was fine.
The next head of Fritz, which had always clung to her like a shadow. If she could fulfill that role, that was enough.
In this moment alone, she simply meant to become a mage.
The scenes she had witnessed in Sapour suddenly leaped up.
Herself standing confidently in the Knight Department arena. Herself clutching Plan and sobbing. Her future self urging her to remember a single stroke.
"To hell with it."
A single phrase, wrenched from her lungs and barely spat out.
She extended her arm. It still trembled, but that wouldn't be a problem. Her concentration right now was better than ever.
"...Because I am a Fritz."
Her other hand steadied the outstretched arm. She would draw out every bit of the blue flame blazing inside her.
At the same moment, a pain greater than she had imagined struck, and she gritted her teeth. It was only natural. Recovery wasn't something achieved by will alone.
But.
Kindling a flame was entirely possible.
Even if her whole body was drenched in sweat, even if the pain blurred her vision, even if this trembling form appeared unsightly to someone....
...She could do it.
Fwoosh—
A blue flame caught upon one of the Flame Cores.
"Fritz."
Fwaaaaaah—!
The flame soon spread wide, forming a blue wall.
◈
Thirty-three.
Thirty-four.
Thirty-five.
Under the onslaught of blue flame, the Flame Cores melted away without mercy. I turned my head to observe Trixie.
From the girl's face, a mixture of nosebleed and sweat dripped down, and her whole body trembled like a tree branch.
True to the description, she was exerting every ounce of her strength.
A contorted expression, a uniform soaked in sweat, hair utterly disheveled.... These were all elements Trixie detested.
Astonishingly, only now did I begin to perceive the quality of 'elegance' from Trixie.
Thirty-six.
Thirty-seven.
My eyes were not mistaken. She is unmistakably a rough gemstone.
She broke through the mold and came into the world, so Trixie the mage has only now been born. All that remains is to advance.
If she overcomes the newly given hurdles one by one, the day she becomes the 'genius' she so desperately cried out for will someday come.
Of course, there is no such thing as a predetermined fate.
Magic itself is, from the start, a miracle that defies fate, so it's safe to say there is no future that can be regarded with certainty.
But the moment her fate hurtles toward ruin, I have the will to help defy it.
Thirty-eight.
Thirty-nine.
This time I surveyed the spectator seats.
Everyone was admiring Trixie's blue flame without so much as blinking.
I can guarantee not a single person among this multitude of spectators thinks Trixie unsightly.
Such is the aesthetic of magic. When a mage advances correctly, those around them naturally feel and simply admire it.
Even as I observed the surroundings, the Flame Cores continued to melt.
Forty.
"Ugh, urgh.... hack—!"
In the end, Trixie's eyes rolled back. Without any sign of staggering or warning, her body crumpled to the ground in an instant.
I quietly received her with my body.
Amidst the scent of sweat and burning, a subtle fragrance of jasmine tickled my nose.
...She probably doesn't even know herself that she's smiling.
The corners of her lips remain upturned. As if she fell into a comfortable sleep, as if praising her own choice.
I silently drew out Trivia with telekinesis and opened it.
[ *Teaching Auction ]
[ ▷ Trixie von Fritz. ]
[ ▷ Congratulations on becoming my disciple. ]
After entering the text with telekinesis as well, I lightly tapped Trixie's forehead with the closed Trivia and laid her on the ground.
Trixie von Fritz is now, whether she likes it or not, my disciple.
"Ah.... um...."
The student in charge of judgement looked back and forth between Trixie and me. He was worried about Trixie, but also seemed he had to determine the result of the match. His face was a mixture of complex expressions.
I had melted thirty-nine, Trixie forty.
I quietly straightened my sleeves and collar.
I nodded my head twice, and uttered only two words.
"I forfeit."
"...."
The student in charge of judgement blinked a couple of times. He seemed to still not to understand my words at all.
"...?"
He tilted his head back and forth on his own, staring at me, then.
"...!"
Soon his eyes flew wide open and he jumped up on the spot.
"F, f, forfeit? You?"
There is no reversal. I nodded my head and then moved my feet.
Forfeiting by no means signifies I lost. The number of Flame Cores is no constraint to me whatsoever.
Only.
I wished to teach her that Trixie mustering the courage to shatter the frame,
Trixie finally breaking through the world,
Trixie understanding true elegance,
and lastly, her smile—
that all of it, was victory.