The Chronomancer's Revelations
Larrabel's body trembled violently. "No... that can't be... There's no way a future like that exists..." She wanted to deny reality itself.
The chronomancer Gerard had appeared right before her eyes. The implication was clear: all her plans had been seen through, and soon everything she had built would crumble to nothing.
"See it with your own eyes."
Gerard said coldly.
Larrabel forcibly turned her rigid head toward the storm of flames. The pillar of fire that had seemed to pierce the heavens had shrunk to just two meters tall. Through the blaze, she spotted two figures. The mage Ian and his red-haired companion.
"How...! That's impossible!"
Gerard's prediction had been spot-on. Ian was alive. Bursting through the roaring inferno. Cloaked in the crimson glow of the mystery of fire. Trampling ashes, scattering embers. The mage Ian was walking toward them.
"Impressive," Gerard muttered lightly, gazing at Ian. "Doesn't he look just like a phoenix? Rising anew from the heart of a massive blaze."
"...Shut up, Gerard."
Gerard was simply sharing his pure, unmalicious impression of Ian's dramatic entrance. But to Larrabel, no matter how she sliced it, it felt like he was mocking her. After all, she had no moves left.
With her final resort blocked, Larrabel had lost completely.
"Just tell me one thing, Gerard. How the hell did you save that guy? How could he survive my Flame Storm scroll?"
Gerard replied bluntly. "Do you really think I saved Ian?"
"...What?"
"You still don't grasp how chronomancers operate."
His words filled Larrabel with deep shame. He was right. Her question had been flawed. If Gerard had decided to "save" Ian, he would have sought out a worldline where the Flame Storm scroll was never used. Chronomancers altered futures, not meddled in realities that had already unfolded.
But the Flame Storm had activated perfectly, and Ian had been caught in the horrific blaze. Which meant Gerard had judged that Ian could survive it unscathed!
"No way... that's insane!"
If true, it was astonishing. Surviving a storm of flames through pure magical prowess alone, without any external aid!
Larrabel rephrased her question. Ian's abilities had surpassed her foresight entirely. How was that even possible?
"In every future I foresaw, Ian burned to death! So how did you predict he wouldn't die, Gerard?"
This was a far better question. Larrabel felt like she was back at a chronomancer conclave, awaiting his response.
"You failed to see Ian's true nature. I did. That's all."
"...The mage's true nature?"
Gerard nodded slowly.
"Larrabel, in this vast world, a mere mage's gaze is utterly insignificant and narrow. Worshipping the sliver of future your eyes briefly touch as absolute truth—that's the classic mistake of novices."
"..."
"Look broadly. Think diversely. Always remember that what your eyes capture is but a half-truth, incomplete."
So what is Ian's true nature?! Larrabel bit back the retort. She was dying to know, but begging for it would bruise her pride.
Gerard stopped his chit-chat and turned forward. A black-haired young man was striding toward them.
"Phew. What a freaking sauna that was."
Ian approached Larrabel, then noticed Gerard a beat late. "Who the hell are you?"
Gerard answered flatly, his expression unchanging. "No need for suspicion. Ian, disciple of Eredis. I'm just here to offer you some advice."
Anyone can see that's sketchy as hell. Chatting casually with Larrabel like old pals. Popping out of nowhere to "advise." Ian wasn't buying it. Is this guy in cahoots with her or what?
But then, out of nowhere, Kira shouted.
"Hey! You're that guy from before...!"
"???"
Ian blinked in confusion between the two. Shockingly, Kira and Gerard knew each other.
"Good to see you again, pyromancer Kira."
Gerard waved mechanically. He didn't look glad at all.
"Was the advice I gave useful?"
Kira bit her lip, glaring at him. "Advice?"
"Yeah. We met before. This guy's the one."
Kira shot Gerard a resentful look. "He told me I'd have good fortune if I fled to Damon Baron's territory...!"
Painful memories of suffering under Damon Baron (aka bandit chief) crept back up. Back then! I went through hell because of that! If Ian hadn't helped, I'd have been exposed as a fake mage and sold into slavery!
Kira, fuming irrationally, clung to Ian's arm. Phew. Now I feel a bit calmer.
Gerard met Kira's glare impassively. "Hm. Seems like good things have already happened. Or not?"
Ian and Kira's eyes met. Kira jolted away from his arm. "N-no! This is just... a habit from hugging my dad...!"
"...Cling all you want."
"S-sorry!!!"
Ian shoved the flustered Kira aside and faced Gerard alone. "So. You sent Kira to Damon Baron?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Gerard cracked a faint smile. Ian found it oddly chilling.
"For a 'better future.'"
Gerard bound Larrabel and settled in a suitable spot. He caught the werewolf—Louis or whatever—too, as a set. Belenca handled prisoner watch.
"Honestly, this makes me uneasy," Belenca grumbled about not just chopping Larrabel's head off. A true otherworld longsword high schooler mindset. She wasn't a proper mage, so no ransom there, and leaving alive a nut who hurled Flame Storm-level insanity felt all wrong.
But Gerard opposed executing her. "No chance of Larrabel escaping. Rest easy."
"How can I trust that?"
Belenca left to watch her. The sole knight didn't buy Gerard's word, but Ian and Kira did. He was a seasoned chronomancer. If he vouched after peeking futures, Larrabel wasn't breaking out.
"So. You asked why sending the mage Kira to Damon Baron led to a better future?"
Kira flinched at "mage Kira." In the flame storm, she'd heard the mystery of fire's voice clearly. She'd even appealed her presence and chatted briefly. No longer a mere civilian, joke or not. Her magic was unstable, but Kira was a mage.
"If Kira hadn't gone to Damon Baron's territory, she'd have been nabbed by slave hunters and sold to the Sand Empire's sultan's harem soon enough."
Kira started to cling to Ian's arm out of habit but paused. At his okay signal, she grabbed it reassuringly. The world. A sultan's harem? What kind of future is that?
"And Ian. You'd have burned to death in Larrabel's scroll."
"...Yeah, felt like it."
"I'd have intervened before you died. But Kira changed the branch point, erasing that future."
"Branch point?"
Gerard nodded. "The pivotal event that alters futures. We chronomancers call them branch points."
"The future where Kira meets Damon Baron versus one where she doesn't... something like that?"
"Quick on the uptake. Good."
In short, meeting Damon Baron had rewritten both mages' futures. Ian eyed Gerard dubiously. Kira had made the right call at the branch point. But the one who'd advised her... was this guy.
"Fine, credit where due. Your advice got us both enlightenment. Our pyrokinesis mastery improved."
But Ian couldn't fathom Gerard's motives. They had grown from this. What did he gain?
"Still, why advise Kira? What's this 'better future' you mean? Spill it."
Gerard looked at him like what are you on about? "No one knows better than you. Ian Eredis Raven?"
"??? Me?"
Ian made an MZ-gen confused face, and Gerard nodded, piecing it together. "I see. You haven't reached it yet. That place."
"Reached what? What're you even saying?"
"Ah. You don't know."
"..."
"Then let's drop it. Further talk would be pointless for us both."
No. You bastard. Ian wanted to punch Gerard's philtrum hard. What kind of smug asshole phrasing is that? He was boiling, but Gerard truly clammed up on "futures." Instead, he dropped a bombshell.
"Wait. Gerard. You told my master... to make me a mage?"
"Yes. Over eight years ago now."
Ian's jaw dropped. So this chronomancer was the one who'd advised Eredis to train Ian!
Gerard had told Eredis, "Make Ian a mage, and good things will follow." She'd taken the advice and made him her disciple. Gerard was basically the architect of Ian's mage life...!
"Uh, well... thanks, I guess...?"
Ian mumbled awkwardly. Gerard ignored it.
"Just a choice for a better future."
Worthless thanks, then. Ian scrapped his gratitude. Of course! My one true master is Eredis alone!
"Take this, Ian."
"Huh?"
Gerard offered something familiar by now: a magic scroll.
"Your choice to accept. But if you do, good fortune awaits soon."
"What kind?"
"Teleportation magic."
Oh. Teleportation? Insanely useful. True fantasy stuff modern tech couldn't touch!
A chronomancer-made scroll, no doubt. "Use it as you see fit. But it could spark a worldline-shifting branch point, so I recommend caution."
In other words, use whenever Ian felt like it.
"Can't you just say when's best?"
"No. Speak a future in the present—is it future? Or past?"
"...?"
Ian didn't pry. Super-useful teleport scroll. He'd find a good spot for it.