Witches: a race born of Mystery.

Though they looked no different from ordinary humans, there was a reason they were classified as a distinct species called witches. They resembled humans, but were fundamentally different. They had not, however, been called witches from the beginning.

["A race beloved by magic."]

["Mystery itself, born of Mystery."]

["A species whose right to perform miracles was acknowledged by the world."]

Those were the descriptions used for them before a witch bearing the Mystery of the end appeared. Turning over the words Merlin had once murmured, Najin looked up at the sky.

A witch was there.

Red hair reminiscent of flames. Red eyes. Snow-white skin stained with soot. The woman who evoked fire floated through the sky astride a staff. Her face was simply expressionless, and she burned people with that same expressionless face.

The heat of the flames. The haze shimmering in that heat. The things that had once been human, crumbling into ash and scattering on the wind.

All of it felt like part of the witch herself. Was this what fire would look like if it took human form? Just as that thought crossed Najin's mind—

"Run."

A cold voice. Merlin's cold voice echoed in Najin's ears. When he looked to his side, she was staring up at the sky, her expression rigid.

"That enemy is far beyond anything you can handle. Run. Don't look back. Just run. Now."

Some people grew colder and calmer the more urgent the situation became. Merlin was one of them, and her voice now carried the coldest edge Najin had ever heard from her.

"Ermina, the Witch of Flickering Flames."

"She'd already reached the Eighth Circle—the realm of archmages—a thousand years ago. I'm sure I smashed every last one of her circles and stars..."

Merlin clicked her tongue.

"Those lunatics are beloved by magic, after all. Looks like she found a way. This is the worst. Hurry up and run. There should still be time before her next spell."

Najin slowly nodded.

He knew perfectly well that Merlin would not react like this without reason. He trusted her, and that trust allowed him to reach a swift decision.

TAP.

Najin immediately turned his head and his feet, ready to flee with the retreating soldiers. But just as he was about to step forward, he glanced beside him.

"..."

Gillette stood there in silence. He had not moved a single step, and was staring up at the sky.

"Sir Gillette."

"Yeah, rookie."

"Aren't you leaving? The order was to retreat..."

"I'd like to."

Gillette smiled bitterly.

"But somebody has to stay behind and buy time, don't they?"

"..."

"At this rate, we'll all be wiped out. Every time that high-and-mighty witch so much as twitches a finger, she'll sweep away whole squads. Running like hell won't do us much good. I know. I've been through it a few times."

Gillette Reginpert.

As a soldier who had spent long years on the battlefield, he knew exactly what he had to do now. He had faced situations like this before, and each time, he had watched what his superiors and more experienced comrades did.

'So it's my turn now.'

Just as it had been theirs, it was his turn now. That was all there was to it. Damn it. Looked like he was finally getting discharged. Gillette sighed and roughly swept back his hair.

"Listen up!"

Gillette shouted.

It was not meant for Najin. He was addressing the wyvern-hunting unit under his command. He let his chain hang loose with a rattle.

"From this moment on, our unit will draw the attention of Ermina, the Witch of Eternal Annihilation. Do not approach her. Forget about intercepting her attacks. Our sole objective is to hold her attention and buy time."

She was an opponent they could never defeat in the first place.

So they would at least stall her. Cling to that witch's coattails until their allies could retreat and bring reinforcements.

"Our unit will keep that witch occupied until Sir Kirchhoff reaches the battlefield."

The enemy had brought out a force that upset the balance of battle.

Someone had to buy time until their own equivalent arrived. Gillette shouted that their unit would take on that role.

The soldiers obeyed. With resolute expressions, the members of the wyvern-hunting unit took their places beside Gillette. Chains rattled as they let their prized chain stakes hang loose.

"Hey, rookie."

Gillette stuck a cigarette in his mouth.

There was no need to light it. Merely touching its tip to the ash drifting everywhere was enough to set it alight. Smoking, he turned to Najin.

"Off you go. Thanks for your work this past week."

He gave a small smile.

Najin was only a mercenary who had come to assist them. He had neither the duty nor the responsibility to stake his life on this battlefield. And so Gillette waved him away, urging him to flee.

"..."

Najin remained silent.

"Hurry."

Merlin's urging. The blazing flames.

And the soldiers led by Gillette, prepared to die. In contrast, the soldiers fleeing. Echoing screams and voices calling over and over for retreat.

『"Retreat! Retreat!"』

『"Hurry!"』

『"Run!"』

Najin was swept along by that current. He had not yet reached transcendence. On the battlefield, he was merely one individual caught in an immense tide.

He was unlike the witch floating in the sky. As he was now, he could neither dominate the battlefield as she did nor wield an overwhelming presence that could seize control of its current. The youngest Sword Seeker. A magnificent achievement, but on the battlefield, the human named Najin was no more and no less than an exceptional soldier.

That was the difference between a Sword Seeker and the Masters who had attained transcendence.

'I know.'

Najin planted a foot with a heavy thud.

Amid the soldiers falling back and shouting for retreat, he found his balance. Rather than being swept along, he set his feet on the ground and held his position.

'I know running is the right choice. I know I'm no match for her, and I know this is a fight I can't win.'

He knew. But if asked whether that meant he would run, he could not easily give an answer. Would he flee every time he met a powerful enemy? Run because he had no chance of victory, escape and back down? Until he became a Sword Master?

No. That wasn't right.

That would make it meaningless. Who in the world would call such a person a hero? The great hero Arthur had never fled any battlefield. He had always struggled with everything he had, resisted, and ultimately won even after being battered to a horrifying degree.

That was why Arthur was called a great hero.

That was the kind of great hero Najin wanted to become, not an ordinary man who stubbornly survived by fleeing to save his own skin.

"..."

Merlin no longer shouted at him to run. His inner monologue and emotions had flowed into her. As she fell silent, Najin spoke inwardly.

'Merlin.'

"Go on."

'What if I engage her solely to buy time?'

He knew he could not defeat that witch.

But this was a war, not a duel. Bringing down the opponent was not the only way to win.

"Hah..."

Merlin let out a long sigh.

"Honestly, I don't recommend it. It's too dangerous. There's a high chance you'll die. Do you understand? She's a witch. A witch who's been alive since my time."

'I understand.'

"And you're still insisting on fighting?"

Najin answered in the affirmative with his silence.

Merlin swept back her hair as though he were driving her mad. For some reason, it was as if this situation felt familiar to her.

"You and Arthur are exactly alike when it comes to having no regard for your own lives. Well, I suppose that's why..."

She did not finish the thought.

As though that was enough lamenting, she steadied her breathing and looked at Najin. Her eyes calm once more, she spoke.

"The choice is yours."

"Whatever you choose, I suppose it's my job to find the best path that follows from it."

"Go on, then. Do what you want."

Merlin gave a small smile.

"I'll help you stay alive."

'Thank you.'

"If you're grateful, try treating me better for once."

Despite her grumbling, Merlin began explaining how to fight a witch. Advice from the archmage who had shattered countless witches' circles and crushed their Mysteries. Listening closely to her voice, Najin lifted the foot he had planted.

The current created by the retreating soldiers.

Against that current, Najin took a step toward the witch. As if to say that, though he was not yet strong enough to reverse its flow, he was strong enough to go against it.

2.

Gillette Reginpert.

A soldier who had survived decades on the battlefield, and a powerful swordsman who had attained the rank of Sword Seeker. He knew that the commanders of his chain unit, known as the wyvern-hunting unit, had met rather unpleasant ends.

Of course they had.

The chain unit gathered exceptional soldiers and operated as a mobile strike force. And, as such forces generally did, it handled not only wyvern hunting but also immediate responses to unexpected developments.

Just like this one.

Gillette grimaced as he smoked.

'It never gets old, does it? Honestly.'

A Sword Seeker was undeniably powerful. But spend enough time in these damned Outer Lands, and you learned, whether you liked it or not, that a Sword Seeker was far less remarkable than you might think.

Heroes of an older age. Monsters that had lived for centuries. Constellations running rampant. And powerful beings who belonged in the age of myth.

The Outer Lands teemed with such things, and they appeared all too often. Wasn't the witch floating up there a perfect example? Before such immense beings, a Sword Seeker was infinitesimally small.

But even someone that small could at least draw the attention of those high-and-mighty monsters.

Flames flared.

Gillette knew it was possible.

"Now."

It was the instant before Ermina, the Witch of Flickering Flames, unleashed another spell. Led by Gillette, the chain unit hurled its chains into the air. They embedded them in the walls surrounding the battlefield and began launching themselves upward.

The witch frowned and lightly swept her hand.

Flames surged in the wake of her fingertips. An immense blaze melted the chains and swallowed the soldiers who had leaped into the air. Some fell as heaps of black ash, but others managed to complete their leap.

They had made her waste one gesture.

Considering that every gesture of hers swept away dozens of soldiers at the least, hundreds at the most, it was not a bad exchange. Gillette had to think of it that way. That kind of thinking was necessary to endure the battlefield.

Gillette spun his own chain.

He had no intention of forcing his subordinates alone to sacrifice themselves. He, too, had already accepted death. Soldiers hooked their chains onto the cliffs and moved at high speed, drawing the witch's attention and provoking her gestures. Gillette joined them.

One mistake meant death.

Even without a mistake, death would come.

Then he would at least put up a struggle.

An immense blaze swept over the cliff. The wall melted, turning soft like heated mud. Narrowly evading the flames, Gillette gave a hollow laugh. What a monstrous mage she was.

'It takes a monster to fight a monster.'

If Sir Kirchhoff came—if that monstrous man reached the battlefield—the tide would turn again. Until then, he would keep struggling. With that thought, Gillette kicked off the cliff and ran.

WHOOSH!

Each time searing heat swept through the area, one or two of the soldiers who had raced across the battlefield alongside him crumbled into ash. To hold the witch back for a few seconds, a life had to crumble away.

Gillette kicked off the wall. Again and again.

But his end, too, would come.

As he ran with his chain anchored to the wall, Gillette suddenly met the witch's gaze. She was looking at him. The instant he met those ominous red eyes, he sensed his death.

Fifth-Circle Spell: Scorching Ray.

Red flames appeared around the witch.

Compressed beams of heat shot from the condensed flames. There was more than one. For a witch, the number of circles meant the number of spells she could chant at once.

KEEEEEEN!

Seven heat rays shot toward Gillette. He could not dodge them. Evasion was impossible. As the rays closed in, splitting fractions of an instant, he sensed his death.

BOOM!

Gillette heard something explode behind him. No, it was not an explosion. It was the sound of someone kicking off the wall and closing in. Something approached from behind, just a little faster than the incoming Scorching Rays.

Then came a flash.

Gillette saw light sweep past his eyes. It was a constellation of white and gold. Why was a constellation, something that belonged in the sky, right in front of him? Belatedly, he realized that it was someone's sword aura—that someone had grabbed him by the back of the neck and swung a sword.

KEEEEEEEEEEEEEN!

The sword aura collided with the heat rays. Sparks flew, and fragments of sword aura scattered in every direction. Only after being seized by the back of the neck and thrown backward did Gillette realize whose sword aura it was.

Najin, the youngest Sword Seeker.

The boy who should have fled among the retreating troops had stepped onto the battlefield once more. Gritting his teeth, Najin swung his sword in a great arc. He managed to knock aside three of the seven rays, then left his position.

HISSSSSS!

The remaining four rays pierced the spot where Najin had stood. As the wall melted and an enormous hole opened in it, Najin slid into a landing on the ground.

"You..."

Gillette, who had been thrown by Najin, landed as well and looked at him. Why had he come back? Before Gillette could reflexively voice that question, Najin spoke.

"This Kirchhoff fellow."

Something he had overheard in passing a little earlier. A powerful fighter who could overturn the course of this battle.

Mentioning the name Kirchhoff, who from the context had to be an allied reinforcement, Najin asked,

"When is he coming? I think I need to know how long we have to stall."

"... Fifteen minutes at most, I'd say."

"Fifteen minutes. Understood."

Najin exhaled slowly.

He raised his head to look at the witch. Meeting her gaze, he gave a small smile.

"What the hell. Let's give it a try."

The moment Najin shouted those words, the witch pointed her fingertips toward him.

Seven circles shone at once, staining the sky red. In any case, there was no time for a lengthy conversation. Gillette and Najin scattered.