The Worn-Out Staff
Five hundred years ago.
In an age when the Magical Tower of Many Colors had yet to exist.
There was an elf who took an interest not in spirit arts or the bow, but in the direct manipulation of mana.
Seira Romer.
Every elf called her an eccentric.
But Seira was not the sort to care much for other people's stares. She had the talent for it besides, and the sense of accomplishment that came with pioneering the path of magic was immense. The belonging that came from living in a herd did not even deserve the comparison.
And yet—
Unlike humans, Seira might have been able to wield magic, but she had no desire to go out into the world in pursuit of advancement.
She had been born an elf, after all. Eccentric or not, it seemed her nature could not be suppressed; she wanted nothing more than to live out her life at leisure in the forest.
A hundred years or so of that passed.
While Seira was idly researching magic in her little room, a woman who introduced herself as a guide came calling.
"I've been looking for a skilled mage."
The black-haired human held out her hand, purple eyes gleaming. Her features were faint in memory, but there was something bold about her all the same.
Yura, was it? Seira could not look kindly on this woman who had barged in out of nowhere talking about the end of the world.
"So let me get this straight. An evil god is going to descend and destroy the world? Do you honestly think that sounds remotely plausible? If you're going to run a scam, you've got the wrong person."
The barbs came out of her mouth of their own accord. And Seira was not the only one displeased by the unplanned meeting.
"Hey, Yura. We came all the way out to a forest like this, and this is who you were looking for? What help is some shut-in loser like her supposed to be?"
"Kyle! That's rude to someone you've just met!"
"...What?"
Seira narrowed her eyes and studied the girl.
Black hair and black eyes, same as Yura—at a glance, they could have passed for sisters. But unlike Yura, her features were sharp, and she seemed short on home training; there was not a scrap of manners to be found.
"What an irritating little brat. You say you're going to kill an evil god, and you want me to tag along with... this half-baked cub? She's so weak she couldn't even kill a single demonkin, never mind an evil god."
"W-what did you just say?"
"Did I say anything wrong, little girl?"
Even Seira had to admit there had been more than one strange thing about that day.
Ordinarily she would not have bothered dealing with a human who had not lived even a tenth as long as she had—she would have ignored them outright.
Moreover, the hut where Seira lived sat in the middle of a forest ringed with wards designed to keep people out. It was not a place some human with no knowledge of the woods could simply walk into.
She had called them scammers, but that was only because she wanted to dismiss them as such. Seira had been wary of the human named Yura.
And yet—
"But her talent is the greatest in the world."
Yura dismantled Seira's wariness in an instant.
Her smile, full of goodwill, had a strangely magnetic pull.
"Talent? What are you suddenly—"
"This child will reach divinity before long, and stand against a god."
"..."
"You look like you don't believe me. We can make a bet on it, if you like."
Yura narrowed her purple eyes and smiled.
"In that case, shouldn't you stay by her side and watch until she ascends to divinity?"
"...How does that follow?"
"Don't be dense. It's simple, isn't it? I'm saying become our companion."
It was pure sophistry.
"Ta-da! I even prepared a staff just for you!"
A purple staff.
A lavish thing set with amethyst.
It looked anything but ordinary.
"If you become our companion here? This staff is free! Opportunities like this don't come around often, I'm telling you!"
"Uh... uh."
Seira found herself reaching for the staff before she could even form a proper reply.
It was far too beautiful a staff to refuse.
And so Seira left her hut behind.
The world around her turned red.
Everyone but Seira was dead.
Kyle. Yura. All of them.
She had been left alone.
If that had been all, it would have been a mercy.
The Evil God had laid a curse.
A curse that made it so no one could remember Seira.
In the end, not a single person left in the world knew who she was.
She had prided herself on being used to solitude, but once the things that had filled her heart were stripped away, the hollow spaces opened up.
A loneliness more terrifying than death eroded her heart in no time at all.
"Ah..."
Seira found herself waking in an unfamiliar room.
"Where...?"
Only moments ago she had been bound hand and foot in a cold, barren prison cell. The room she occupied now was the sort of bedchamber any noble might stay in.
A soft bed, warm air, silk nightclothes...
"A dream? No. This isn't a dream."
Seira pressed a hand to her lower abdomen and examined the mana in her dantian. The dantian that had been sucked dry by the blue flames that devoured mana was now full once more.
Whoosh—
Seira conjured a lump of flame in her palm.
The magic activated normally.
I need to get out of here...
"......Brat."
In that instant, Seira recalled Shiron's face.
The boy had clearly known that she had been a companion of the hero Kyle.
How?
Seira should have been erased from the world by the Evil God's curse. Even if she told someone the name Seira Romer, it would evaporate from their memory before long.
Don't run. You have to ask him how he knows about you.
Seira sat bolt upright and left the room. She raced down the mansion corridors in search of Shiron. Finding him was not difficult. In this mansion—Dawn Castle—all she had to do was seek out the weakest presence of all.
Picking out a single human amid a castle steeped in tingling demonic energy was no great challenge for Seira.
The demonic energy is gathering in one place.
The first floor of Dawn Castle. The main hall.
Bang—
"See, girls? I told you she'd come looking."
"..."
A long dining table stood alone in the vast hall, and against a backdrop of blizzard-swept snowfields sat Shiron.
And a host of demons, dressed in the absurd guise of maids, were bowing their heads to the boy.
"Have a seat. The food's getting cold."
"......What is this. What were you talking about?"
"Do I really have to spell it out?"
Shiron tilted his head and smiled.
"We were betting on whether you'd make a run for it in nothing but your underwear. As you can see, I won."
"I believed in you, Young Master."
A blond demon preened as she spoke. A pile of silver coins had somehow already found its way into her hand.
"Sit down already. I had meat prepared for you this time."
"..."
Seira stared blankly at the table. There were fewer dishes than there had been at the capital mansion, but the spread was still more than ample. Compared to the hard bread slathered in margarine she had eaten yesterday—was it yesterday?—the difference was almost embarrassing.
"I'm sure you've got a lot of questions, but fill your stomach first. Lately my blood sugar's been low, and I can't think straight on an empty stomach."
Shiron tore roughly into a cut of meat still on the bone.
Why is he so calm?
Seira furrowed her brow.
Even with a retinue of demons, the boy's attitude was far too composed. He knew her true identity, no less. And yet he could still act this unbothered...
Seira dipped her little finger into the soup and tasted it.
"No poison... I see."
"That's a bit harsh."
As if any idiot would serve poisoned food to a companion he was about to live with. Shiron let out a long sigh as he said it.
Companion. At that word, Seira's eyes flew wide.
"Companion? Who's your companion?"
"...Have you gone senile? A week ago you said with your own mouth that you'd be my companion. Don't tell me you're going to play dumb."
"A week?"
Seira's eyes went round.
"That much time has passed?"
"Yeah. You were out cold like a log."
Pop—!
Shiron pulled a bottle of sparkling liquor from his coat and poured it into a glass. She had no idea why a kid that young looked so natural pouring drinks, but Seira had no particular desire to pick at it.
"W-when did I ever say I'd be your companion? D-don't lie to me!"
"If you really can't believe it, try shooting magic at me."
"...What?"
"I said shoot magic at me. I won't dodge."
Having drained the sparkling liquor cleanly, Shiron spread his chest wide toward Seira.
"Brat. You'll die doing that. Y-you think I won't do it?"
Seira shifted her gaze from Shiron to the demons.
"...What is this."
But for some reason, the demons did not so much as twitch. Even Yuma, standing behind him, simply kept her head bowed.
"Come on, I told you to shoot."
"...Hah."
Seira squeezed her eyes shut and extended a finger.
Whoosh— A small fireball took shape in her hand. A Fire Orb. Of all the magic she could use, it had the weakest offensive power—but it was still more than enough to leave even a minor burn on that boy.
Fwoosh— The tightly packed little fireball shot toward Shiron. But it never struck him.
Heh—
The fireball vanished in a puff of smoke, and a smile touched Shiron's lips.
"What..."
"What do you think. A mana oath."
"...An oath?"
"Yeah."
Shiron pressed his little finger to his forehead and touched his thumb to his tongue. Seira had no idea what the signal meant, but it conveyed to her, at least, that it was something tremendously important.
"In exchange for teaching you how I know about you, you swore a mana oath."
"I... did that?"
"It surprised me too, you know? Who would've thought that in that situation you'd suddenly ask me to believe you and swear a mana oath."
"...Really?"
"Of course."
"...I don't remember."
"You passed out right after, so that might be why. If you don't remember, I'll tell you again."
Shiron clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat a few times.
"I know that you were a companion of the hero from five hundred years ago. That's information I can access thanks to my power of prophecy. Before long, the Evil God is going to descend. So we don't exactly have a choice about fighting, do we?"
"Liar."
Seira worked her mouth. She thought she had just heard something enormous from his lips—the power of prophecy—but an even greater fact had spilled out of the boy.
The Evil God's descent? That horror was going to descend again? Seira's eyes flooded with shock.
"The Evil God is dead. Kyle... killed it. I saw it with my own eyes. That vast demonic energy that looked ready to swallow the world vanishing in an instant—you should have seen it yourself..."
"Then why hasn't the curse on you disappeared?"
"That's... because it's a curse triggered through death..."
"Yeah, no. Absolutely not."
Shiron's mouth quirked into a smile. In the expansion of Forgotten Mage Seira VOL. 2, Seira killed the Evil God and found salvation. The nature of the curse laid on her had been explained there as well, so Shiron could speak with certainty.
"Anyway."
Shiron walked straight toward Seira. At some point, a purple staff had appeared in his hand.
"I can remember you. Isn't that reason enough for you to cooperate with me, all by itself?"
"...U-uuh."
"Even if the whole world forgets you. As long as I'm alive, there will be at least one person who remembers you."
Thok—
Shiron thrust the staff against Seira.
"Take the staff. Become my personal magic weap— tool, and protect me."
"..."
Seira narrowed her eyes and looked at the staff.
This scene—she felt as though she had seen it somewhere before, and yet something was different.
Yura.
Aside from the color of his hair, he resembled that gentle woman in no way at all—and still, in this rough-edged boy, Seira found herself thinking of a friend who was already gone from the world.
Hugo's mansion.
Eldrina received a letter that had flown to the estate.
The aura seeping from the letter—its sender listed as the Imperial Central Bank—was far from ordinary.
Eldrina carefully opened it.
Amount Due: 48,890,000
"...Forty-eight million, eight hundred ninety thousand?"
What in the world is this...?
The calamity known as a bill of charges swept over the mansion.