The Spirit Ifrit

"So you're saying you were trapped here because of the mana?"

"That's right! I was releasing mana alongside the lower spirits when this happened."

Honestly, Aaron couldn't quite wrap his head around it.

According to this spirit, all the ambient mana that mages absorbed and harnessed was actually generated and discharged by spirits. Well, that much he could accept. He had read in academic tomes that next to nothing was known about the true origin of the mana permeating the world. But being trapped here because of the forest's mana? It felt hard to swallow. It reeked of something she was keeping to herself.

"You were releasing mana with other spirits, but you were the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠only one who got stuck?"

"Yeah! Those jerks left yours truly behind and took off all by themselves!"

"The lower spirits, right? Are you different?"

"Hmph! Yours truly is Ifrit, a Special Spirit of Fire! I'm on a completely different level from those weaklings!" Flapping her transparent wings with theatrical flair, Ifrit soared above Aaron's head, puffing out her tiny chest with immense pride.

"Hoh~ impressive."

"Hmph, obviously! This great me is magnificent. My mana is on another plane entirely compared to lower spirits. It was so overwhelming that it wound up trapping me here."

Only a few minutes had passed since meeting Ifrit, but Aaron had already gotten a solid read on her personality.

"You really don't have any mana at all, do you? Humans who can perceive spirits are rare, but they exist... so how on earth can you talk to me?" Flying right back in front of his face, Ifrit poked his nose repeatedly, demanding an explanation. "Are you listening? Explain it to me right now—"

"It's kind of a long story."

"Then start explaining already!"

Being able to converse with spirits was undoubtedly thanks to the universal language comprehension reward granted by the Episode System. But explaining that would be a massive headache—it involved his past life, reincarnation, and all sorts of complications. Better to just brush it aside.

"Were you bawling your eyes out because those lower spirits left you all alone?"

"Wh-what?! Wh-who was crying?! I was not crying!" Ifrit's face flushed a shade of crimson that rivaled her own hair.

Heh, so easy. She's an open book.

"I wasn't crying, okay?! That was... that was just because I got sleepy! I lowered my head for a quick nap, definitely not crying! Why would someone like me ever cry?!"

When Aaron first stumbled upon her, she had been weeping openly. And the second she laid eyes on him, she had badmouthed humanity yet still flown straight over to cling to him. She clearly got lonely quite easily. In short, she was basically an elementary schooler—that mental age suited her to a tee.

"Hey! Are you even listening, human? I said I didn't cry!"

"Not 'human.' It's Aaron."

"Whatever! Point is, I wasn't crying!"

"Fine, fine."

"What do you mean, 'fine'—"

Teasing her further was tempting, but now was not the time.

"So what are you going to do? Just stay like this forever?"

"I have to wait here until the fire burns out."

"And when will that be?"

"Ah! I don't know! I'll take care of it myself!"

Though she put on a brave front, her delicate wings drooped slightly. Act tough as she might, she had to be anxious. The mana in this forest was dense, meaning the blaze wouldn't die out anytime soon; she was facing an indefinite wait with no end in sight. Small wonder ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠she had been crying.

"Are you just going to keep waiting forever, then?"

"None of your business! What do you care?!"

Judging by her defensive reaction, there was definitely another reason she was trapped here. It was most likely her own blunder. Having never met other spirits, Aaron had no point of comparison, but her speech and demeanor were undeniably immature. And that was probably the exact reason the system had brought him here to meet her in the first place.

"Well, I can't leave here either. How about we help each other out?"

"..."

Knowing her temperament, this was the right angle. Frame it like this, and she would naturally—

"Argh, fine! I get it!"

"Oh? You'll help?"

"Consider it an honor, human! I'll grant you a special privilege and make a contract with you."

"A contract?"

That sounded a bit ominous. A contract with her?

"Now, you and I are going to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cast magic."

"Magic? Me?"

"You and I will cast magic together using my mana. Once that mana is expended, I can absorb these flames and we can escape from here."

Me, casting magic? Is that actually possible? Aaron could hardly fathom the idea.

"We're doing this! Get ready."

"Right now? But I don't know the first thing about it."

"You understand the spirit tongue! Just chant along with me. The magic will follow!"

Ifrit raised her tiny hand toward the sky and began chanting words Aaron had never heard before in his life. Yet, the alien phrases decoded effortlessly in his mind, their resonance and meaning settling in as if he had known them all along.

The moment he echoed the incantation, an unfamiliar surge of power rushed through his veins.

Mana.

Though he had never possessed a drop of it before, he recognized the sensation instantly. The mana swelling within him converged all at once into the hand he had raised skyward.

"Here it comes! Unleash it all!"

Reacting on pure instinct, Aaron released the gathered power in a single, explosive burst.

Whoooosh!

The mana discharged from his palm ignited into a monstrous pillar of fire, expanding outward as it surged violently toward the heavens. The only flame magic Aaron had ever witnessed in person was Jay's. But the colossal inferno erupting from his hand right now made Jay's spell look like mere child's play.

"We did it! Ifrit! We actually did it!"

"We did it!! We're finally free!!"

It was the first time in his life he had ever cast magic. While claiming it entirely as his own was a stretch, there was no denying that the spell had originated from his hands.

I did it! I cast magic!

"Aaron... Lord Aaron!! Young Master Aaron!!"

Amidst the euphoria of his first spell, a familiar voice cut through the air.

Abel?

"Abel? Are you all right?"

Her voice sounded unharmed, but as the flames dissipated and his vision cleared, his eyes widened.

"Wait, why are you tied up?"

Where the fire had cleared, Abel was bound securely in magical restraints, standing beside an unfamiliar woman.

"What on earth is going on—"

"A child?"

Before Aaron could make sense of the situation, the woman closed the distance, stopping right in front of him.

Could she be...?

"Um... may I ask what is happening, Archmage?"

"My, what a clever child."

Called it!

An unfamiliar woman appearing under these circumstances could only be the Archmage. Still, guessing her identity was one thing; seeing her in person was another. She was far younger than he had imagined. Aaron had envisioned a wizened grandfather figure, but she appeared to be in her late twenties at the absolute oldest. Clad in form-fitting black attire, possessing striking beauty, and exuding an indefinable, commanding presence, she was unmistakably no ordinary person.

"Were you the one who just cast that magic?"

"Well... you could say I cast it, together with the spirit here."

"Practically speaking, yours truly cast it!"

True enough, but the smug, self-satisfied look on the fairy's face was genuinely irritating.

"A spirit?"

"Yes, with the spirit right beside me."

"Little boy. Can you see what is there?"

"Pardon? What do you mean?"

She spoke as if she couldn't see anything at all. Wasn't it plain as day?

"Other humans can't see me!" Ifrit yelled.

"Wait, really?"

"Besides, you're the only one who can talk to spirits!"

Aaron had assumed she was just boasting earlier, but was she truly invisible to others? Even though she was so vividly present to his eyes?

"Archmage? Can you really not see what's right next to me?"

"I see nothing at all. Let me ask you again—can you truly see it?"

"Yes. Quite clearly."

"Heh... heheh."

The woman, who hadn't shown a shred of warmth since her appearance, let a faint, intriguing smile curve her lips.

"Fascinating. Truly fascinating."

"Uh, yes, I suppose so."

Whatever was going on, playing along seemed like the safest option.

"Chi—could you tell me your name?"

"Aaron Hynek."

After hearing about the spirit, Merna's demeanor softened noticeably.

"And your age? How old are you?"

"Eleven."

"A bit on the older side, but manageable."

What's with these ominous questions?

"Aaron?"

"Yes?"

"Become my disciple."

From the lips curved in that alluring smile came words Aaron never could have anticipated. A disciple? Him? An Archmage's disciple? What on earth was she talking about? Was she some kind of fraud?

He couldn't help the suspicion. Even if he had just cast a spell, his body still possessed zero innate mana. Her proposition made no logical sense.

"What is this human babbling about?! He's my subordinate now! Don't talk nonsense!"

When did I ever agree to be your subordinate?

Ifrit buzzed around the Archmage, spitting indignant protests. Yet, if the woman's offer was genuine, this was an unfathomable, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If he became her disciple, maybe—just maybe—becoming an Archmage himself wasn't an impossible dream.

Before, you barely gave me any choices, and now you hand me one out of nowhere? Telling me to decide for myself?

"Archmage."

"Merna is fine. Just Merna."

"Lady Merna. I..."

Agonizing over it here ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wouldn't produce a better answer. He would walk the path his instincts demanded.

"I look forward to learning under you, Master!"

"What a spirited, wonderful answer."

Continuing to wield magic alongside Ifrit might offer an easier, more comfortable road. He could lean on his family's name and pursue a safe existence. But Aaron refused to walk such a path. Nor did he harbor the slightest desire to remain chained to that wretched household.

He would become an Archmage. An Archmage freer than anyone, unbound by petty shackles.

And what better path existed than becoming an Archmage's direct disciple? No matter what trials awaited or what perils lay ahead, this was the road he chose.

"Whaaat?! What are you saying?! A disciple?! You're my subordinate now!!"

Whatever had set her off, Ifrit threw a full-blown tantrum, pinching and jabbing at Aaron's cheek.

"When did I ever become your subordinate? You called it a contract."

"A contract to become my underling, obviously!"

"I never agreed to anything like that. Do you have a written contract?"

"Ugh! Why would I have something like that?!"

Merna, who had been quietly watching Aaron argue with empty air, suddenly chimed in.

"Aaron? What are you doing right now?"

Ah, right. Other people can't see her. Nor could they hear her. To an outsider, he must look completely deranged.

"I was just talking with the spirit here."

"Talking?"

"Yes, she was spouting some nonsense."

"You're... conversing with a spirit?"

"Yes. Just a brief chat—"

"What?!"

In an instant, Merna's poised, elegant composure shattered completely, her face contorting in sheer shock and utter bewilderment.