El Sion 1
Dawn broke. The wind was still chilly, thanks to the wide diurnal temperature swing. Licht rose after a short sleep. Peering out the window, he saw a faint red glow rising over the dark sky. Though it was still time to slumber, his mind was sharp. It felt like he'd cast off some burden.
'Slept like a rock.'
Right after parting with Aila yesterday, he'd returned straight to the Annex. No words were exchanged. A quick dinner, then bed. Sebrik and Lena hadn't pried.
Near the bed lay neatly folded clothes—not yesterday's formal banquet attire, but the practical outfit he'd worn in Artal. Prioritizing mobility over appearance.
'Not much to pack.'
Finally, Licht donned his hooded cloak and strapped the Ascension Sword to his waist. The scabbard and hilt were wrapped in cloth—a precaution he'd taken himself yesterday. Just in case some sharp-eyed observer recognized it as an Orkin-forged blade. It didn't really matter, but no need to draw unnecessary eyes.
He opened the nightstand drawer. Inside an old bundle glinted a few silver and copper coins. A chuckle escaped him unbidden.
'That eager to leave the family, huh.'
Money he'd scrimped together, penny by penny, preparing for the day he'd flee the house. Started at age ten, so seven years' worth. He shook the pouch—jingling coins, a hefty sum.
'Gonna take it.'
He tucked it carefully into his bosom. All set. As he opened the door, a strange mood washed over him. Over ten years ago. Back then, he'd slipped out of the family like a fugitive in the early dawn.
But now...
'Different.'
This wasn't running away. This was leaving on his own terms. Worlds apart. No more hesitation. No one could bar his path anymore.
Saaah—the grass whispered underfoot.
Stepping out of the manor into the front yard, he spotted two figures by the main gate.
"Sebrik, Lena."
"Young master."
"Good morning, young master!"
He'd known since rising. They'd be waiting. Sebrik bowed slightly, Lena beamed radiantly. Servants rose early by custom, but these two were earlier still. Always diligent. For him, above all.
"Leaving now?"
"...Yeah. I'm going."
Licht's answer sufficed. No more words needed—for him, for Sebrik, for Lena.
After a moment's thought, Licht spoke.
"Sebrik, Lena. I have something to say."
"......"
"Well..."
He chose his words. What to say? He wanted to take them. Wandering the continent together, the three of them—it'd be fun. He wasn't a kid anymore; he could protect them. Besides, after what he'd done, staying in the family was too risky. Amella, nursing her grudge, might target them anytime.
In that instant, his decision crystallized. He opened his mouth again—
"Young master, that's enough."
Sebrik cut him off.
"We'll accept your feelings. That's plenty."
Licht fell silent. His gaze shifted to Lena beside Sebrik. She smiled at him, shaking her head just like the butler.
"I'm fine."
They knew.
"This manor is the last legacy your lady mother left us. How could I abandon it?"
That following him would only drag him down.
"Right! Someone has to stay and guard this place!"
Sebrik and Lena—ordinary folk, no skills to speak of. Traveling together had limits. He could guarantee their safety, sure. But it'd cramp his style. They worried about that. Didn't want to burden their master.
Licht's eyes shook fiercely. Sebrik, with a kindly smile, said,
"Young master."
"......"
"You said it once before—no more hiding behind us."
Licht stayed quiet.
"I know what troubles you. But let me throw your words back at you. We're your servants. We can't hold our master back. And..."
A beat. Sebrik continued.
"Someday... when you're weary and need a place to rest. Come back then. The Annex door stays open. We'll keep waiting. Because we're your servants."
Licht's eyes widened. A wry smile flickered; he closed them briefly, then opened.
"Here. Knew you'd leave, so I packed ahead."
Lena held out something wrapped in cloth.
"Three meals' worth. Enough to Britten."
"...Thanks."
"Eat properly, okay? No skipping meals."
"Got it."
"Promise? You always wear yourself out. Worries me sick."
Licht smirked at her playful upward gaze.
Then,
"I'm off."
"Yes, young master."
"Both of you, stay safe."
"You too, young master."
Licht stepped toward the thicket beyond the Annex. Their gazes followed. How long? Years, even a decade-plus.
'I'll return.'
He had a home to come back to. For now, that was enough.
***
Britten. The busiest city in Barbalte territory. Not far from the main house.
Licht wove through the woods with light steps. His mana-reinforced body outpaced any horse. A day's trek with camp, normally. For him, half a day.
Steady training had built solid stamina. Spotting a stream after a long run, he paused to catch his breath. Scooping water into his flask, he pondered.
'Where to?'
Britten first. Then where? Magic city El Sion. Palenia Holy Kingdom. Girga Kingdom. Closest: El Sion. Snag a carriage in Britten, two leisurely days.
Above all, the Sage's Tower beckoned. Top floor. Records left by Great Sage Laiyel—sure to help.
'Time magic too?'
Space magic: advanced, for 7th Circle and up. Not just comprehension—the mana drain was immense. Power defying nature's laws demanded a price. Space magic burned vast mana. Other miracles were similar. Revive the dead? Caster's life. Twist fate? Equivalent mana.
But time magic...
'No one's cracked it.'
Even Laiyel Luerg, closest to 9th Circle in history, couldn't. Reviving or leaping space was one thing. Time? Altering history with one regression. Worlds apart.
'What price?'
No one knew. Rumors said only at 9th Circle ascension. Even Licht, who'd regressed, had no clue. Circles were just aura substitutes for him—a magic novice.
That made him more curious. What price had the emperor paid to send him back?
"Hoo..."
Destination set. No long dithering. Guzzling stream water, he rose. To El Sion. A way into the Sage's Tower would come once there.
'When have plans ever mattered?'
Half a day more. Pausing midway, then again. Stream water to quench thirst. By midday sun, Britten appeared.
A grand city walled afar. Busiest trade hub around. Mercenary guilds, El Sion carriages—plenty.
As he stepped forward—
Chirp, chirp!
A small bird fluttered down onto his head. White feathers, blue eyes. Staring in bewilderment, a voice came from behind.
"Hey, Licht."
Familiar. Turning, he faced the girl. Silver hair, blue eyes. Her, fresh from yesterday's parting.
"Reppy."
Chirrr. The bird took off at her call, perching on her shoulder. She said,
"Why the face?"
"...Alone?"
"Oh, that?"
Aila nodded at his question. No Aren Pavria. Her dedicated mage, 5th Circle from Barte's faction. Supposed to stick like glue outside.
'Snuck out solo?'
She'd said El Sion. Assumed family knew—carriage, escort Aren, safe trip. Not a short jaunt. Yet here she was, brazen.
"Family?"
"Snuck out."
"......"
"Waited forever. Thought my neck'd snap."
No banquet dress—her usual pure white robe, etched with Barbalte crest and hexagram. Timing meant post-banquet departure. No space magic. Solo, on foot.
'Doesn't look the training type.'
Mages were like that. Spell research over exercise.
'Hah...'
Absurd, but mostly ridiculous. Himself, swept up yesterday? Utter fool. Then why promise? Poor Aren, probably frantic. Heartbreaking.
Silence from Licht. She spoke first.
"Destinations match anyway."
"Says who."
"To El Sion, right? Or got somewhere else?"
"......"
She spoke like she knew all. No retort. For some reason, it irked him. Aila extended her hand before him.
"So..."
Britten in sight, she grinned mischievously.
"Take good care of me to El Sion, Sir Knight."