The Supreme Water Spirit Karita (1)

It was early dawn, the sun not yet risen, when I climbed onto the back of Mander the mole, who had swollen his body to a rideable size.

"Put your feet in here."

"Like this?"

Two small hollows had formed near the nape, so I slipped my legs in and settled down. Fine sand yielded under me with a soft, even give. The ride wasn't half bad.

"Well? This is the seasoning of a High Spirit."

"Yeah. Nice work."

Spirits were grateful companions — they fought beside you and doubled as transportation besides. So why did I have no talent whatsoever for spirit arts? Today, once again, I felt the limits of Aura all too keenly.

"Saintess. Go carefully, and come back."

Wipilrud had come out alone to see me off, and the farewell she offered was as dry as dust.

"When the Hero party gets here, greet them with as big a smile as you can manage. First impressions matter more than you'd think."

"I will."

While I was handing out advice anyway, I went ahead and described the Hero party's faces and temperaments too. If you already knew someone's quirks, getting along was that much easier, wasn't it?

"Can't you meet them with me?"

"Not confident?"

"I just don't like meeting people. Or talking."

I'd noticed it before, but her social skills were painfully thin. She barely felt emotions to begin with, so it followed. Getting close to anyone would take her a long time. Still, this was a problem she had to solve herself. It wasn't something I could step in and fix.

"I can't stay glued to your side forever."

"Even so…"

She still looked like she couldn't stand to let me go. I had no choice. I told her a method that would close the distance in a single stroke.

"That's a kind of cheat. Only use it when there's no other way."

"Got it."

"I'm really leaving now."

Wipilrud hesitated, then opened her mouth again.

"Do you have to go right now? You're still not well."

"I won't push it."

The wound Liam had given me still hadn't closed. It had recovered, technically — but the pain had stayed behind, throbbing whenever it pleased. Fighting in this condition would be dangerous. Then again, if I just kept well clear of enemies, it ought to be fine. The mole would do the fighting for me anyway.

"I'll be back."

"Mm."

Wipilrud finally gave up and waved, a small motion of the hand.

"Let's go."

I patted the sand, and the mole started forward across the empty flats, gliding as smoothly as a ship over open water.

"She's leaning on me too much."

Once the village had fallen a fair distance behind us, I spoke up, worried.

"She can't keep on like that."

"Of course she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠leans on you. You rewrote her whole future."

The mole kept a steady pace and went on talking.

"Wipilrud was ostracized for her Spiritual Vision. She's been alone since she was little. Then you treated her that well. Of course she follows you."

Had she grown up barely receiving any love at all? If so, I couldn't bring myself to pry her off by force.

"She might even see you as a mother."

"……"

A mother. A word I simply could not fit anywhere inside my heart. Even now, with Selen calling me Unni, I was already at capacity.

"There's not that much of an age gap, is there?"

"It was a spirit-style joke."

Thank goodness. It had given me a headache, if only for a moment.

"She probably does think of you as a guardian, though. Someone like that."

"That much is fine."

If she had someone to open her heart to, even a painful past would start to loosen its grip. Holding onto that thought, I lay back.

"Wake me when we get there."

"Didn't sleep much, did you?"

"The people in the same house were loud."

I had stared at the ceiling until dawn. Courtesy of a certain couple who had slipped out of the house one after the other, then come home together, perfectly in step.

"Sorry I don't have a hearing-block function."

It wasn't Sun-bask's fault. The richly detailed sounds of affection drifting down from the second floor had simply been impossible to ignore.

"I really didn't think they'd go all the way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You don't need to know."

I closed my eyes, using the sand that cradled my back so gently as a bed.

"But you're not lying, right? He's really there?"

"I'm not the kind of nasty spirit who jokes about things like this."

"Thank goodness."

I let the sleep that came drifting in take my body and my mind, and felt a bright, restless thrill fill my chest as I went under.

Wipilrud waited quietly beneath the tent she had pitched at the edge of the village, receiving her guests in silence. They would be here any moment now.

The voice of the spirit sent to fetch the Hero party rang inside her head. She stood up straight and waited, and a colossal stone serpent came into view.

"Thank you."

The party riding near its head dismounted together. The human with the beautiful red hair was the Hero. The one whose every movement still carried a childish cast was the Sage. The tiny fairy was the Great Warrior. It was the Hero party exactly as she had been told — every trait preserved, not a single one missing.

Smile.

Following Clitia's advice, Wipilrud stretched her mouth as wide as it would go. It was the first smile she had ever attempted. The approaching Hero flinched, just slightly.

"You are the Guardian, are you not?"

Her voice trembled for some reason. Tension sat in her eyes as well. What were you supposed to do at a time like this? Wipilrud decided to push ahead as planned.

"Wipilrud Stetwood."

She held out her hand to the Hero who had stepped under the tent.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Selen, the Hero."

The moment their hands met, Selen jerked.

"Sorry. A vampire's hands are always cold."

"……"

Bewilderment bloomed across ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that lovely face. The reaction told Wipilrud exactly what the problem was.

She's wary because I'm a vampire.

Had she known in advance, through a revelation of the Sun? Vampires were infamous as a vicious race. Being careful was only natural. This was a mild reaction, actually. Most people spat, or sneered to your face.

Either way, she had clearly failed to make a good impression. Which meant there was nothing for it but the cheat.

"There's something I want to say."

"What might that be?"

"I received help from Saintess Clitia."

Would it even work? Unease flickered through her — and in that same instant, Selen's face broke into a wide, brilliant smile.

"Is that so! I'm so sorry I misunderstood."

The two companions standing behind her piled in at once, loud and eager.

"Our senior sister would never aid the wicked!"

"That's right!"

The effect was far better than even Clitia had predicted. Wipilrud finally let herself relax.

"She pretended she wasn't the Saintess the whole time, and still looked after me so well."

"She always does. I believe it embarrasses her."

For a while, all manner of talk passed back and forth beneath the tent. It was the first conversation of Wipilrud's life that had no purpose attached to it at all — warm, easy, and simply shared.

Meanwhile, some distance away, a certain couple sat watching the Guardian join the Hero party.

"Every last one of them overflows with talent, do they not?"

"They do."

Eluke and Liam sat side by side on the obsidian steed, their hands resting lightly in each other's.

"One of them looks familiar, though."

"You must be mistaken."

There was no reason any face there should be familiar. In the world they had originally lived in, this Hero party had never even been formed.

"Who's the blonde one?"

"The Sage, Breniaketra. I am given to understand the true identity is a dragon."

Liam was silent for a moment. He even frowned, which did not suit him at all.

"The name's weird."

"It is rather long, yes."

"Not the length. That's dragon tongue."

Eluke's eyes went wide.

"And when, precisely, did you learn the dragon tongue?"

"Picked it up by chance on a trip. Ah — I didn't go with some other woman. I was with Logan, so don't get the wrong idea."

An excuse he had not needed to make. The kind of sentence that only invited suspicion.

"Then what does it mean?"

"It's not one word. It's three."

Liam did not unknit his brow.

"Wake up."

I wanted to sleep longer, but the sand I had entrusted myself to was shaking, and it dragged me out of a deep doze.

"We're there already?"

"See for yourself."

I stretched and took a slow look around. A grassland, lush with clear, tender green — the kind of view you only got once you left the blighted stretches behind.

"From here, you go alone."

"Thanks."

I brushed the sand off and climbed down from the mole's back. A blue landscape unrolled right in front of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me. A lake so large it would not fit in a single glance — bigger than the one I had visited when I first woke Sun-bask, large enough to pass for a sea.

"You know what this place is called?"

"It was too long. I couldn't memorize it."

"Long Live His Imperial Majesty the Emperor Lake."

"That's horrific. Truly."

Cross this water and you reached the Empire's capital. Not that I had any reason to go. After the little matter of storming the imperial palace, the Emperor still held a grudge.

"All right. I'll be back. Wait here."

"Keep watch for me."

I moved mana only inside my body and raised my Aura. I wasn't looking for a fight, but I needed the reinforced physical ability. I finished a light warm-up where I stood, eased back a step, then ran and dove into the water.

The dive began. Cold closed around me, and I swam straight down. The destination was the deepest point.

"You may breathe now."

Sun-bask's underwater breathing. I could exhale and inhale as easily as I did above the surface. A convenience like this — how was I supposed to give it back? I had not regretted the choice even once. I did feel a little sorry for this generation's Saintess, though. Because of me, she would never receive the blessings of the holy relic.

"It will be dull on the way down. Shall I sing for you?"

I shook my head hard. Sun-bask did not come equipped with any outstanding vocal function.

I worked my arms and legs and kept descending, watching fish of every color flash their scales as I went. Then, at some point, the atmosphere changed entirely.

"Something does feel off."

A hush had settled over everything. Suddenly there was not a single fish in sight. Worse, the water was far too clean — so clearly different from the layers above that you could tell with the naked eye. Some unnatural force had been at work here. The mole had been right.

I dove a little farther, and at last the sight I had come for filled my eyes. At the deepest point of Long-Live-His-Imperial-Majesty-Whatever Lake, a massive beast's claw of solid ice stood driven into the bed.

"Lady Clitia, congratulations in advance!"

I forced down the excitement that tried to rise with her. Premature hope had a way of breeding enormous disappointment. I approached the ice claw calmly and laid my hand against it.

My palm began to freeze. I ignored it and poured the mana from my body in a flood — as much as I could, carrying in it the will to see him.

The frost spread. Before long it had swallowed me whole. Not an attack. I was being drawn somewhere. I did not resist. I simply waited, and let it take me.

Then my vision went dark.

"Come now. Wake."

I opened my eyes on an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ice cave, the killing cold needling my skin.

"Live long enough, and you even see souls who come seeking me this far."

The master of that wide space approached and laid a shadow over me. A colossal ice tiger. A rough, magnificent creature, every inch of it radiating dignity.

"Human. What business brings you to me?"

The feeling that washed through me was painfully familiar. I had heard that way of speaking so many times that it sat in my ear like an old coat.

"I came because I knew it was you."

My throat had gone a little rough. My mouth was dry as dust.

"Logan."

I called, quietly, the name of the genius spiritist who had once been my companion.

"Please don't pretend you don't know me."

A weak thing to say. Pride did not matter here. If I let this moment pass, I might never get another.

"Some loose-lipped spirit must have talked, I see."

A deep sigh. The tiger's form shrank and shrank, and in another breath it had become something like a human.

"Clitia."

We stood facing each other. For the first time since the day we had stood against the Demon King.

"I am truly sorry."

An apology that blew every last half-held doubt out of me.

"Forgive me for leaving you to suffer alone all this time."

A meeting I had believed would never come. A reunion I had not even dared to wish for in my dreams, knowing full well it was a vain hope.

And yet, of all things—

"…What's with that look?"

Logan de Remelite, the former Guardian. The precious companion who had shared life and death with me had transcended death itself — in the form of a small, adorable girl made of ice.

"This fellow here was the only spirit who would permit a soul transplant. Still, rather adorable, wouldn't you say?"

I was glad. And yet, somehow, all that came out of me was a hollow little laugh.