The Tail
In all the long years he had lived as a mage, he had worked with every material and medium imaginable—yet manipulating a dragon heart was a first.
More precisely, it was the first time he had ever inscribed magic circles upon a dragon heart.
Why had he transformed into a dragon?
As far as Luke could reason, it had to be the imbalance that resulted from leaving only enough mana in the first and second circles to maintain them, while pouring every scrap of accumulated mana into carving the third. There was simply no other explanation.
Because aside from that, nothing about the process had felt like a mistake.
When it came to manipulating mana and inscribing circles, Luke was hardly so inexperienced as to blunder.
The first and second circles were the foundation of foundations—the bedrock.
And the third circle was the new tier built atop them.
The third circle: dominion over matter itself.
From this point onward, one could finally call it the true beginning of a mage.
Feeling the quiet presence of the third ring turning within his heart, Luke drew a deep breath and opened his eyes.
"Mmm... Luke..."
Perhaps it was the sound of his breathing that stirred her; from beside him came Yerna's sleep-talk.
A sidelong glance revealed her clutching a pillow, twisting and turning this way and that.
Wondering why she was acting that way, he recalled that last night—to free himself from Yerna's arms that kept pulling him in—he had given her the pillow instead.
Was she truly that unsettled?
Well, even he had never expected to suddenly turn into a dragon—how much worse must it have been for Yerna?
And still there was that alien sensation between his legs.
When he cast his gaze that way, he saw himself draped in a short-sleeved shirt borrowed from Yerna, worn like a dress.
Having shredded his nightclothes to pieces during the dragon transformation, he'd had no choice but to wear this.
And protruding into the space between his slightly parted legs was a plump, fur-covered tail. It was part of the dragon—and the medium of beastman transformation.
The principle behind that transformation was probably not so different from beastmanization itself.
When he focused his will upon it, the tail swayed this way and that, moving exactly as he wished.
A new sensation, but not an unpleasant one.
He was beginning to understand why Mery had insisted that a tail wasn't uncomfortable at all.
It isn't particularly inconvenient.
Just as no one found their own arms and legs inconvenient, a tail felt much the same.
Perhaps the tail also served a role in regulating body temperature—he recalled having thrown off the blankets entirely because covering himself had left him unbearably warm.
It serves rather more purposes than one might think, a beastman's tail.
Perhaps there truly was no such thing as a useless organ in this world.
Luke kept moving the tail, partly to grow accustomed to the sensation of controlling it, and partly as he recalled the moment of his dragon transformation.
The memory of transforming into a dragon was hazy and dreamlike to him, yet the emotions remained fully intact even after returning to his original body.
That was likely thanks to the spirit language he had come to understand, at least in part.
Toward Yerna he had felt the emotions one holds for a parent; at the word "mage," he had felt unease.
Those had probably been the feelings of this heart's original owner.
Eyes closed, feeling his heartbeat, he recalled.
The Evil Dragon Sigarmata.
A calamity that had burned dozens of cities and driven an entire nation to the brink of ruin.
And also a tragic mother.
What Luke had discovered after slaying the Evil Dragon was...
Not a hatchling.
It was magical alchemy that had left only a dragon heart and a few organs, sustaining something that could barely be called life.
Similar to a lich's phylactery, yet different...
Yes—he would not mince words.
It had been the corpse of a young dragon.
The hatchling had been as good as dead already.
They had barely kept the dragon heart alive and preserved it, nothing more.
A horrific affair.
Eighty percent of the territory had burned and been destroyed, rendered uninhabitable—yet even so, her rage and madness had never faded.
Sigarmata.
She had already been one of the most powerful ancient dragons; once she degraded her own rank to become an Evil Dragon in her desire to destroy the world, no dragon remained who could stop her. In the end, the only one who could step forward as mediator to halt her rampage had been Luke Irushi himself.
He had slain Sigarmata, exhausted from her long rampage, and then uncovered the full truth of the affair.
What Luke had learned at the time was this:
A nation that desired the destruction of its rival had killed the young dragon while posing as enemy soldiers. Sigarmata, having fixed her vengeance upon the wrong target, had willingly fallen into becoming an Evil Dragon and brought about the ruin of an entire country.
The malice of humans has always been the most terrifying thing of all.
The ringleaders of that plot had become enemies of the continent, lived out their days as slaves, and eventually died of overwork...
But that would never bring peace to the countless lives that had been swept up and ended meaninglessly in the chaos.
"Haa..."
A memory he had forgotten. Or rather, one he had chosen not to recall.
He had never wanted to dredge up memories like these.
With a stifling sensation around his heart, Luke took another deep breath and sat up.
The circles feel a touch stiff.
Once more, he settled his emotions.
Had he not practiced emotional control every single day across more than a century of life?
By the time Luke had fully risen from the bed, his heartbeat and the circles had returned to their usual state.
Thump.
Climbing down from the bed, Luke opened the window and looked outside.
As always, birds were chirping, the sunlight flaunted its warmth, and the breeze made its presence known by brushing through his hair.
Far too bright.
Luke squinted slightly against the sunlight.
He had meant to rise at dawn for meditation, yet it was already broad daylight.
Nothing for it—today he would simply have to meditate without the mana of dawn.
Gazing out the window, Luke hummed.
Pai, why did you not wake me? I asked you to rouse me at dawn.
Pai tilted her head at Luke's complaint and replied.
-Dawn?
"Haa."
Did spirits lack any concept of "time"? Well, a language that conveyed present emotions might have little need for the notion of time.
Or perhaps he had simply failed to communicate it properly.
Should he have asked to be woken "when the sun was about to rise"?
-Mana/energy/body needed? Shall I bring/transfer? Just say the word!
No, that will not be necessary. I have no desire to advance the seasons again.
Luke hummed as he watched a butterfly flutter by.
If I suddenly drained the mana of the entire forest and changed the weather, even these butterflies would perish.
Yerna, hearing what to anyone who didn't understand spirit language would sound like nothing more than cheerful humming—Luke's conversation with Pai—stirred and sat up.
When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Luke standing at the open window, gazing outside and humming yet another new melody.
Relieved that he had not become that form again today, Yerna watched him and the corner of her mouth lifted.
Does he like the tail, at least?
The way he had been wagging it nonstop since earlier looked less like a cat and more like a dog.
He seemed to be in such a good mood—what a relief.
Watching the butterfly and humming, Luke looked thoroughly happy.
Luke was so bright again today.
Thank goodness.
Yerna greeted him in a bright voice.
"Lu, good morning."
"Ah, you are awake? Indeed—a truly fine morning, Yerna."
The usual greeting. Yes.
Nothing had changed.
Right after Luke had returned to human form, they had asked him a great many things.
Why it had happened, what exactly had occurred, how much he remembered...
Luke answered them all without reservation.
"What would I have to hide? Truth be told, my memories are not entirely intact, so I cannot speak in great detail—but of this much I am certain: my heart is made of a dragon's."
Daiton spoke with a startled expression.
"A dragon? An actual dragon?"
Sorbi elbowed Kirke in the side.
"See? I told you it was a dragon."
"I was sure it was a magical beast... So dragons have fur too, huh."
Luke addressed Kirke.
"Ah, yes. There is likely a bit of magical beast mixed in as well."
"Huh? Magical beast too?"
"See, I knew it—magical beast after all."
Daphne adjusted her glasses and widened her eyes.
"I see... so that's why..."
Now she understood why, beyond human, three unidentifiable creature mana patterns had been mixed together.
"You were a chimera, Luke."
"A chimera..."
Daiton murmured softly.
It was certainly an unusual appearance.
The mismatched features suited the idea of having been "made" this way far better than having been "born" this way.
"So that's also why the mana you give off feels different from ordinary people. Not because of the circles."
Luke nodded calmly.
"Most likely so."
"Why didn't you tell us sooner? If you had, we wouldn't have misunderstood like that."
"Daiton, at the time my own memories were not intact."
In that moment, Yerna was deeply shaken to realize that what she had been suspecting all along was true.
Human experimentation...
Certainly, if that weren't the case, far too many things wouldn't add up.
"Luke, so your memories have all come back?"
"Well, there are still memories that refuse to surface... but for the most part, yes."
Yerna met Luke's eyes with a thoroughly serious expression.
"Then do you remember who made you?"
"Of course."
"...Will you tell us? I'm not forcing you, of course."
"That is no difficulty at all. It was 'me.'"
"...What?"
"Huh?"
"What do you mean...?"
Everyone wore blank expressions.
"In other words, 'Luke Irushi' created this body. I made myself. In the twilight of my life I was conducting research into immortality... and then I opened my eyes five thousand years later..."
With each continuation of Luke's explanation, Yerna's gaze grew narrower, until at last she patted Luke's shoulder and wiped at the corner of her eye.
She understood the desire to believe oneself the hero of a fairy tale—but five thousand years was not a span of time one simply skipped over.
Dragons, called "immortal," lived a thousand years; five thousand years was long enough for five dragons to grow old and die.
It was a void that could never be casually dismissed.
Moreover, looking at the way Luke had behaved all this time, none of them could picture the legendary "Luke Irushi"—and on that point, everyone nodded in agreement.
"L-Luke. You don't need to force yourself to remember. If you can't recall something, you don't have to say it. We already have enough clues. You seem really confused right now."
Think about it—what had the situation been when they first met Luke?
Stripped bare, collared and restrained behind iron bars, being carted off as if for sale—Yerna still remembered vividly how they had barely managed to rescue him.
So was the archmage of five thousand years ago, called "the mortal god who walked the material plane," supposed to have enjoyed being treated that way?
If that had been the case, Luke would never have expressed gratitude to her the way he did now.
"And if what you're saying is true, that would make Luke Irushi a dirty old man who stuffed himself into a little girl's body. The Luke Irushi I know from the fairy tales isn't that kind of hero."
"That is..."
Luke shrank back as if struck dead center. His tail stood stiffly on end, as though he had taken a tremendous shock.
"Hey, Daiton...! You can't just deny it to his face like that!"
Even if it was Luke's delusion, it was the identity that formed the very foundation of who Luke was right now.
To reject it head-on like that!
Yerna hissed in a whisper.
"What if he turns into a full dragon again?"
"Ah, is that... so? Sorry! Luke! Whoa~. So you really were Luke Irushi—! That's right, of course! I totally believed you!"
"..."
Luke closed his mouth.
If I say any more, I shall only be treated as a fool—or a pervert.
Very well. In the end, there is only one path by which I can prove myself.
He would have no choice but to become an archmage once more.