Footprints Through the Blizzard
The miraculous footprints stretched on endlessly. The sheer volume of blood loss—enough to turn the white snow crimson—made one wonder how anyone could have walked such a distance. "No... No...!" Of course, Erielle, who ran tirelessly along the trail of blood, had no room for such thoughts. The cold snow against her light clothing and bare feet felt as if it were freezing her to the bone, yet she felt no chill. She could now wield her mana smoothly—more swiftly and powerfully than before. Cloaked in overflowing mana, Erielle moved as if flying, following the fading footprints. The surrounding scenery blurred past in a rush. She crossed the Frost Territory and the ruins of Snowfield Village, now nothing but ash. Yet the blizzard that had begun to blow was rapidly burying Venice's footprints beneath fresh snow.
She had lived her entire life in the North and endured countless blizzards, but never had she hated the snowstorm as much as she did now. "Please... Please..." No matter how desperately she prayed, the accumulating snow made the footprints nearly invisible. If the snow kept falling, she would lose the trail entirely. Erielle's hollow eyes turned toward the sky, her hatred directed at the blizzard itself. A storm-like wind erupted around her body as mana from the surroundings converged upon her. Magic that could alter the weather had always been nothing more than legend. Tales of archmages or sages from the age of great chaos who changed the weather were used to inspire aspiring mages, but legends remained legends for a reason. No one had ever performed such a miracle. Even the greatest mages and sages of each generation had given up, and it had become accepted that only ancient dragons could possibly wield weather-changing magic.
"........." Erielle knew this truth all too well. When she had first learned of mages as a child, it had been one of her dreams. Yet reality had been cold. Even with her exceptional talent, changing the weather had remained impossible from childhood until now. She had accepted that weather-altering magic was beyond reach and moved on with her life. "I have to succeed... no matter what." Now, Erielle set that childhood goal once more—to achieve the miracle that all mages and legends had yearned for. There was no time to dwell on impossibility. She had to succeed, whatever the cost.
A tempest powerful enough to sweep away even seasoned warriors erupted with Erielle at its eye. She gazed calmly at the dark, endless sky—the sky that poured down hateful snow to block her path. She had never felt such resonance with mana before. It was as if her body and the mana had become one. She focused every ounce of her mind, pushing beyond the limits of her brain until she felt something beyond human. Her thoughts cleared, unnecessary distractions fading like ripples on water. The raging mana storm calmed into a gentle breeze. Erielle spoke to the loathed sky. "...Don't stop me."
The quiet storm began around her and swept outward, growing from a butterfly's wingbeat into a force that reached the heavens. The wind that had threatened to engulf the world advanced silently, carving through the sky. Moments later, the fierce blizzard vanished as if it had never been, leaving behind clear, tranquil weather. The miracle spoken of only in legends and history books had manifested here and now. After breaking through the wall called limitation, the very quality of the mana she felt seemed different. She sensed an omnipotence, as if she could accomplish any miracle. But there was no time to revel in having surpassed human limits. Erielle simply pressed forward along the reemerging trail of blood.
Trusting her intuition, Erielle abandoned running and began to fly. Her refined mana control allowed her to maintain a Fly spell that would have earned imperial acclaim, even if only for a few seconds. As she advanced, the footprints abruptly ended at a familiar location. "......!" It was the place she had cursed countless times—the cave where she had first met Venice. The bloody footprints led inside the dark mage's cavern.
The moment she discovered the cave, Erielle's heart began to pound wildly. She swallowed hard and stepped inside on trembling legs. Anxiety consumed her entire body. No sound came from within the cold cave, yet the trail of blood continued deeper. With every step, an unknown pressure tightened around her heart, growing stronger whenever she thought of Venice. Chzzzt... chzzzt...
"......!" At that moment, a mechanical sound emanated from a small glass orb lying on the ground. Erielle lowered her stance warily, but the orb neither attacked nor exploded. She tried to ignore it and proceed deeper, yet her eyes kept returning to it. An inexplicable premonition warned that she would regret it for life if she didn't check the orb now. Kneeling, she picked it up. Aside from the static, it appeared to be an ordinary glass sphere, though she could see faint dark wisps rising from it—likely some artifact similar to those used by dark mages. Staring at it yielded no clues about its function. With a small sigh, Erielle set it down and turned to continue—when the static returned.
—You may view the target's scene. Would you like to proceed?
"....What? Urgh...!" Before she could react, the orb emitted an intense flash of light that forced her eyes shut. '...A trap?' Erielle squeezed her eyes closed and focused on the sound, ready to respond if footsteps approached. Murmur, murmur... Yet what she heard was not footsteps, but voices—voices that sounded as if they came from the village square rather than inside the cave. Realizing something was wrong, Erielle opened her eyes. The world, once blurry, sharpened into a view of Snowfield Village instead of the cave she had been standing in.
"What... is this...?" Erielle looked around in disbelief. The clear voices and faces confirmed this was no illusion. The scene felt so alien that she wondered if she was hallucinating. Yet when she tried speaking to passersby, they neither saw nor heard her. Even a villager who walked straight toward her passed through her body without collision. "............." Erielle quickly assessed the situation. These people could neither see nor touch her. Combined with the artifact's earlier words—"view the target's scene"—she concluded she was now an observer within someone's memories.
Then, at a distant shop, she spotted a familiar face. "....Venice." Venice stood bundled tightly against the cold, holding a small basket. He bowed repeatedly to the shopkeeper. Erielle approached quietly and listened. Venice was thanking the shopkeeper for entrusting him with an errand to the Frost Territory. ...Why? If Venice had been a dark mage, why would he bow so humbly for such a grueling task? Why bother feeding the orphanage children? A dark mage—a parasite on society—could survive without such effort. Night fell, and in the midst of a raging blizzard, while everyone else slept, Venice pushed forward through snow that swallowed his steps and wind that threatened to blow him away. "....Huff!" As he struggled onward, Venice suddenly lifted his head and looked around. Perhaps feeling the cold, he spotted a small cave entrance within his limited vision and headed toward it. ...It was the cave where they had first met.
"What is this supposed to be?" Venice examined the dark mage's symbols and black cloth with genuine curiosity. ...Why did he look at them as if seeing them for the first time? If he were a dark mage, those symbols would have been intimately familiar. Venice entered the cave as if by chance and followed the scent of blood deeper inside. He lifted the black curtain to reveal the dark mage's workshop. Within the iron cages, Erielle saw her own dying self. She watched silently as Venice desperately shook the prisoners awake and struck at the bars in an attempt to free them. ...Why did he look at them with such pity? Why did he rage at the sight of the dead?
"........Help." Her barely squeezed-out voice reached Venice, and the moment of their first meeting unfolded before her eyes. The dark mage entered the room. Venice stabbed him with a dagger glowing the same color as dark mana. Then came the image of Venice smiling as he freed her without a shred of doubt. "This.... What is this..." Erielle tried to deny reality, but what she saw was undeniably real. These were actions a vicious dark mage would never have taken. Layer by layer, her distrust toward Venice peeled away, revealing the truth it had hidden. As the fog of suspicion lifted, Erielle's mind filled with anxiety and denial. Crack...Crash—! The world shattered like broken glass, and another scene rose before her eyes.