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Chapter 67
The mountain had been gone for one night.
Roswaal L. Mathers contemplated its absence from the balcony of his study.
The distance made it impossible to distinguish the crater clearly. From the manor, the disappearance manifested in a much simpler way: an interruption in the horizon, a hollow where a dark mass that had formed part of his domain for centuries had once risen.
The sun had descended through that exact gap.
Now the moon occupied a similar position.
Its light entered through the opening between the curtains and spilled across the desk, illuminating maps, reports, a small blackened plate from Charizard, and a fragment of rock that had been turned into glass.
Roswaal picked up the latter between two fingers.
Its surface was smooth.
Black at the center.
Reddish along the edges.
It had not melted merely from temperature. Mana had penetrated the stone, separated its structure, and fused part of it back together before the pressure expelled it from the site.
The result was beautiful.
Also expensive.
Ram had already calculated the territorial loss as though anyone could place a reasonable price on a vanished mountain.
Link had protested.
Roswaal had enjoyed the protest.
He had not enjoyed its cause quite as much.
—Seven tenths —he murmured.
After erasing a mountain.
After using his own body as fuel to drag a mass weighing two thousand tons.
After coating himself in fire, deliberately depriving himself of oxygen, piercing several stone columns, creating an ice dragon, and turning an entire lake into mist.
Link still had most of his mana remaining.
The number did not fit.
Not with the first time Beatrice had drained him.
Not with the initial comparison to Emilia.
Not with the Gate of a twenty-one-year-old human who had barely learned to read Lugunica's written characters.
A Gate could grow through training.
Control could improve.
The body's ability to endure mana flow could strengthen.
None of that justified such a difference.
Roswaal set the piece of glass down on the map.
The territorial lines looked fragile beneath the dark fragment.
Link had not merely increased his reserves.
He had learned to use other sources.
The mana from his Gate.
The mana absorbed through his horns.
The mana circulated through his kagunes.
The mana stabilized by Luci.
The mana distributed through the four lesser spirits.
And perhaps something else.
Something none of them had completely identified.
Roswaal turned toward the desk.
A book rested inside the lowest drawer.
He did not open it.
He did not need to.
He remembered the pages.
The words.
The future laid out with enough precision to justify decisions others would consider monstrous.
The text had spoken about a black-haired boy.
One.
Not two.
It had not warned him about a truck appearing in a forest.
It had not mentioned a Latin American young man with two horns, four kagunes, and a dangerous fascination with assigning theatrical names to anything capable of destroying terrain.
It had not described a second stranger arriving from another age.
Nor a mountain erased before the events that truly mattered had even begun.
Link did not belong in those pages.
And yet the world did not reject him.
It had accepted him.
Given him a Gate.
Mana.
An affinity.
Spirits.
An Oni nature he should not possess.
A body that rebuilt itself whenever ordinary laws demanded that he die.
Roswaal placed both hands on the desk.
The painted smile remained on his face.
His eyes did not share the expression.
Link was a new piece.
That had been Roswaal's first conclusion.
A piece could be placed.
Moved.
Sacrificed.
Used to force another piece to react.
Link did not function that way.
He did not obey the value of a position.
He did not desire titles.
He did not pursue noble recognition.
Money managed to catch his attention only because he could transform it into food, lagmites, or materials. Roswaal's authority barely extracted the smallest amount of formal respect from him, and only when Rem looked at him in a particular way.
Nor could his loyalty be purchased through power.
Link distrusted anyone who offered too much.
He possessed a particularly irritating instinct for detecting when a conversation concealed another intention.
He did not always understand what it was.
But he could sense that something existed beneath the words.
Roswaal moved a small marker across the map.
It represented the manor.
Another marked Arlam.
A third piece, made that very afternoon at Ram's request, resembled a red flame with four extensions.
Link.
Ram possessed a drier sense of humor than she admitted.
Roswaal placed the flame beside the manor.
Then near Arlam.
Then on the road toward the capital.
It was useful in every position.
Protection.
Transportation.
Artillery.
Direct combat.
Construction.
Food production.
Artificing.
A walking magical reserve.
Charizard alone could alter the logic of a military confrontation. It required no roads. It could cross walls, attack from the air, transport people, and reduce fortifications with Fire, Wind, Earth, or Yang.
And Link had built it without formal education.
With mistakes.
With constant help from Beatrice.
With more enthusiasm than good sense.
But he had built it.
Groudon still did not possess a complete body.
Roswaal needed no imagination to understand what would happen once it did.
A six- or seven-meter terrestrial machine powered by lagmites and Link's reserves, capable of altering terrain.
Charizard dominated the sky.
Groudon would claim the ground.
The boy was not gathering an army.
He did not think in military terms.
That made it more unsettling.
He did it because he liked those creatures.
Because he remembered stories.
Because he wanted to see them move.
The practical result did not depend on the innocence of its creator.
A hammer could still break bones even if it had been forged to drive nails.
Roswaal lifted the small wooden flame from the map.
Held it before the moon.
—What will you become?
He expected no answer.
Even so, the question had several.
One was obvious.
Link could become a protector for Emilia.
Not a knight.
He would never obey the required structure or tolerate formalities for very long.
But he could be a wall.
A calamity placed between danger and the people inside his circle.
Subaru was already there.
Rem too.
Emilia occupied a more distant position, but a real one.
Beatrice had inserted herself without admitting it.
Puck was approaching cautiously.
Ram remained on the edge, accepted through insults, duties, and a trust neither of them would ever name.
Roswaal was still outside.
That did not bother him.
He did not need to be loved.
He needed Link to protect the correct people at the correct moment.
The problem was the reverse.
A man willing to break himself for others could also break the world when he failed to save them.
The mountain had not defended itself.
Neither had the lake.
Link had destroyed both out of curiosity, under supervision and with controlled objectives.
What would happen if someone tore Rem from his hands?
What would remain of that incomplete restraint if Subaru died in front of him?
What shape would his magic take if the purpose was not to demonstrate a spell, but to punish?
Roswaal did not need to know every detail of the relationship between the two outsiders to understand that something abnormal existed.
They watched one another.
They reacted to dangers nobody else had detected.
Sometimes they looked at each other after an apparently innocent conversation like soldiers remembering a battle nobody else had witnessed.
And Link protected Subaru differently.
With Rem there was tenderness.
Desire.
A need to build a future.
With Subaru there was an older tension.
A brutal dependence.
As though one man's life kept some wound inside the other closed.
Rem was home.
Subaru was a chain.
Roswaal spun the small flame between his fingers.
He disliked variables that could not be replaced.
He also disliked pieces capable of deciding the board itself no longer deserved to exist.
Someone knocked.
Three times.
Absolute precision.
—Come in, Ram.
The maid entered.
She did not wear the ceremonial uniform, but her usual one. Crimson Heart remained around her neck. The tiny red lagmite glowed at minimal intensity, just enough to maintain her body temperature during her nighttime rounds.
Ram had said she would only wear it during winter.
Winter had ended.
Roswaal did not mention it.
She carried several documents.
—Reports from the western boundary.
—Leave them.
Ram approached.
Placed the papers on the desk.
Roswaal noticed dried mud along the edge of her skirt.
—You went personally.
—The reports were imprecise.
—And now?
—They are worse.
Roswaal opened the first.
Claw marks.
Missing animals.
Fallen trees.
Tracks of several different sizes.
—Mabeasts.
—Yes.
—Wolgarms?
—Some tracks match. Others do not.
Roswaal raised his gaze.
Ram maintained her calm expression.
—The explosions altered the territory —she continued—. Ordinary animals fled. Several packs migrated. The Mabeasts began following the residual mana and the empty routes.
—How many?
—Too many to ignore. Not enough to attack Arlam yet.
—Yet.
—Yet —Ram repeated.
Roswaal looked at the red flame on the map.
The solution had presented itself.
—Summon Link.
Ram looked at the small piece between his fingers.
—Ram assumed you would say that.
—And prepare yourself.
The pink eye narrowed.
—Ram will go with him?
—You know the terrain, you can locate them through the wind, and you are the person least likely to allow him to turn the border into another dry lake.
—The lake is already filling again.
—That detail will not restore the mountain.
Ram fell silent.
Roswaal smiled.
—Besides, I want to see the difference between a practiced spell and his behavior against living targets.
—You want to observe him.
—I want to solve a problem.
—Both.
—Both things can be true.
Ram took the reports.
She did not leave immediately.
—Rem will ask to accompany him.
—Rem will remain at the manor.
—She will not like that.
—She trusts you.
Ram lowered her gaze slightly.
The red stone at her throat gave a pulse.
—That does not make the decision sensible.
—Nor does it make it wrong.
The maid turned away.
—Ram will bring him after dinner.
The door closed.
Roswaal returned to the map.
He placed the red flame over the western border.
Beside it he placed a small pink piece.
The image produced a more genuine smile.
Not because he expected difficulty.
Because Ram and Link together were an interesting combination.
Fire without restraint.
Wind with too much of it.
A force capable of erasing mountains.
A woman capable of making him feel incompetent for dirtying a carpet.
Roswaal opened the next report.
He had not finished reading the first line when a door appeared in the middle of the study.
Not the entrance.
A simple wooden door appeared where a wall had been.
It opened.
Beatrice entered.
—Betty wishes to make it clear she did not come because you called her, I suppose.
Roswaal rested his face against one hand.
—I haven't called you yet.
Beatrice stopped.
Looked at the desk.
Then Roswaal.
—Then Betty is leaving.
—I was planning to.
She tightened her grip on the book against her chest.
—That changes nothing.
—Of course.
The door behind her began closing.
Roswaal lifted the vitrified fragment.
—It's about Link.
The door stopped.
Beatrice did not turn around.
—Betty is tired of talking about that idiot.
—Then you can listen.
The little spirit closed the door completely.
She remained inside the study.
—Five minutes.
—We need to wait for Puck.
—Four.
Roswaal smiled.
The meeting had begun earlier than expected.
Beatrice had spent the entire afternoon attempting to prove that Link was not her problem.
The result occupied nine pages.
The first three contained diagrams of his Gate.
None were complete.
The structure could not be represented by a single circuit because every component modified the others.
The Gate worked.
That was obvious.
But the flow did not end there.
It passed into the horns.
The horns absorbed external mana and mixed it with his own.
The kagunes received both currents without rejecting either.
The cells of his body transformed part of that energy into regeneration.
The spirits consumed another fraction.
The artifacts received commands through Luci.
The result did not resemble a person using magic.
It resembled a small magical network sealed inside one person.
Beatrice had drawn the Gate in the center.
Two circles above it, representing the horns.
Four channels behind it.
Five points surrounding it.
Charizard outside.
Then she had looked at the drawing.
She hated it.
It resembled a constellation.
A badly constructed one.
Without acceptable rules.
With a sun in the center incapable of understanding that its job was not to set the paper on fire.
The fourth page analyzed Explosion.
The fifth, Prometheus.
The sixth, Cruel Sun.
The seventh was dedicated to Charizard.
The eighth contained the corrected design for Groudon.
Not because she had agreed to help.
Because allowing Link to continue without correction would have been worse.
The ninth page contained one sentence:
Do not teach him yet.
Below it was a description of the phenomenon that had occurred during Puck's mana release.
Beatrice had repeated the measurements in her memory too many times.
The cold advanced.
Mana with a specific order.
Reduce temperature.
Remove heat.
Maintain the state.
When it entered the area created around Link and Rem, Puck's mana had not been repelled.
A barrier would have pushed the current away.
An opposing spell would have neutralized it through equivalent heat.
Absorption would have transferred the energy.
None of those things happened.
The order disappeared.
The mana stopped behaving as cold.
It broke apart into shapeless particles and eventually merged into the ambient flow dominated by Link.
He had not won through force.
He had forced the spell to forget what it was.
Beatrice had no better way to describe it.
And he had done it unconsciously.
He had merely wanted to keep Rem warm.
Intent had replaced technique.
That was the real problem.
Link's magic was born from images.
He did not study a spell for years in order to reproduce an accepted form. He did not understand every law before acting.
He constructed an image.
Filled it with emotion.
Gave it an absurd name.
Then threw enough mana at it until the world yielded.
Explosion existed because Link was completely convinced of what a perfect explosion should look like.
Prometheus worked because he imagined his body as something fire could not destroy.
The Leviathan pursued targets because, inside his mind, an ice dragon was supposed to hunt.
Charizard flew because no acceptable version of Charizard could fail to fly.
It was a childish way of using magic.
It was also dangerously close to its oldest essence.
Source.
Route.
Command.
Output.
Beatrice had taught him those four principles so he would stop exploding circuits.
Link had taken four simple ideas and begun applying them to everything.
The body could be the source.
The horns, the route.
The image, the command.
The spell, the output.
Or the spirits could serve as the source.
The kagunes as the route.
Luci as the command.
Charizard as the output.
The combination changed every time.
It worked.
It should not have worked so well.
Beatrice had been sitting high on the Forbidden Library staircase when the door appeared before Roswaal's study.
She had received no summons.
She had merely sensed the mage's intention extending through the manor.
A discreet search.
A message that had not yet been spoken.
She could ignore it.
She should ignore it.
Roswaal looked at Link as a tool.
Puck regarded him as a potential threat to Emilia.
Beatrice had no interest in another conversation where everyone spoke about the young man as though he were an artifact larger than Charizard.
The open book on her lap contained a correction for Groudon.
She had marked its left shoulder in red ink.
If Link followed his original route, the Earth core would saturate the joint and rip the arm off during its first movement.
She could let that happen.
The idiot would learn.
Then he would rebuild the piece.
Waste materials.
Argue.
Prepare ice cream as a bribe.
Enter the Library through the wrong door and pretend it had been an accident.
Beatrice closed the book.
Not her problem.
She opened Door Crossing.
Appeared in the study.
Only to say she would not attend.
Roswaal mentioned Link's name.
And she stayed.
That worsened her mood.
—Five minutes —Beatrice repeated.
Roswaal placed the piece of glass on the table.
—What is he?
—A burned rock.
—You know what I mean.
—An idiot.
—A very scientific classification.
—More accurate than any alternative.
Beatrice took the farthest chair.
Her feet did not reach the floor.
That gave her one more reason to hate Roswaal's furniture.
—His structure does not belong to any known race —she finally said—. Nor to a single magical discipline. His Gate, his horns, and those grotesque extensions should interfere with each other.
—But they cooperate.
—Through repetition, I suppose.
—His body learned?
—His body adapted.
—The difference?
Beatrice tightened her grip on the book.
—Learning implies understanding. Adapting only requires survival.
Roswaal looked toward the absent mountain.
—He has survived quite a lot.
—That is another problem.
Link did not fear breaking himself.
Not in the correct way.
Anyone who felt a bone snap learned to avoid the movement that had caused the injury.
Link learned how long it took the bone to heal.
A mage who exhausted their Gate could become incapacitated, suffer permanent damage, or die.
Link measured how many additional spells he could cast while regenerating.
Prometheus tore his body apart from within.
He had decided to combine it with oxygen deprivation and a two-thousand-ton rock.
He did not search for his limit so he could stop before reaching it.
He crossed it to discover which part came back first.
—His regeneration is warping his judgment —Beatrice said.
—I noticed.
—No. You found it useful.
Roswaal did not deny it.
—Both things can be true.
—A typical answer from an irritating person.
Beatrice looked at the glass.
—His current power isn't the worst part.
—What is?
—The speed.
Roswaal stopped touching the fragment.
—The first time, he could barely produce a stable flame. Now he constructs complete spells, uses spirits as living circuits, and builds objects capable of combining four affinities.
—With your help.
—Betty corrects.
—That is help.
—Betty prevents unnecessary deaths.
—Also help.
Beatrice looked away.
—He still writes worse than Barusu.
—Then he retains a weakness.
—It will not be enough.
The door did not appear.
Beatrice knew she would not leave before saying the rest.
She hated that.
—Luci evolved too quickly.
Roswaal nodded.
—I saw.
—Lesser spirits need time, mana, and a stable identity. Link gave her all three without knowing how.
—He was protecting Rem.
—Precisely.
Beatrice looked at him.
—It wasn't only mana. It was intent. An idea so firm that Luci could use it to define herself.
—Could he do it again?
—Do not ask him.
—I'm asking you.
—I don't know.
Beatrice tightened the book against her dress.
—And I do not want him to know until we understand it. If he discovers he can accelerate spiritual development, he'll try naming the other four before breakfast.
Roswaal imagined five quasi-spirits.
Then ten.
A small spiritual court revolving around Link.
Not contracted through complicated pacts.
Fed by reserves that seemed to increase the more he used them.
—He could become an extraordinary spirit contractor.
—Or damage every spirit that approaches him.
Roswaal's smile diminished.
—Is his mana harmful?
—No.
The answer came too quickly.
Beatrice corrected herself.
—Not in the usual way.
—Puck.
She fell silent.
Roswaal touched the stone.
—During the cold.
—Nii-cha will explain when he arrives.
—You already understood it.
—Betty understood part of it.
—Share it.
Beatrice closed her eyes.
—Link's mana did not warm Puck's mana.
—It dismantled it.
Beatrice's right eye opened.
—You already knew.
—I observed.
—Then stop pretending ignorance.
—I wanted your interpretation.
—How unpleasant.
—That is why it is valuable.
Beatrice looked toward the moon.
—The command vanished.
—Command?
—Nii-cha's mana had shape, intent, and function. When it entered Link's space, it stopped retaining them.
Roswaal did not speak.
—If Link learns to do it deliberately —Beatrice continued—, he could interfere with spells before they finish. Barriers. Curses. Contracts. Perhaps spiritual bodies.
The final possibility remained between them.
Beatrice was a spirit.
Puck too.
—Could he destroy you?
—I don't know.
—Puck?
—I don't know.
—Large-scale magic?
Beatrice stared at him.
—I don't know.
Roswaal smiled again.
Not from amusement.
Because unknown answers were more dangerous than negative ones.
—We won't tell him —he decided.
—Betty did not need your order.
—We agreed.
—Don't make it sound pleasant.
A small tap came from the glass.
Both looked.
Puck floated outside the balcony.
The Great Spirit passed through the open window and entered.
—Sorry I'm late. Lia took some time to fall asleep.
Beatrice stood.
—Nii-cha.
Puck approached.
She extended both arms.
The small gray body settled onto her shoulder.
—Betty wasn't worried.
—Of course not.
—We only needed your opinion.
—That's why I came.
Roswaal indicated the third chair.
Puck looked at it.
Then settled on Beatrice's head.
—I'm fine here.
Beatrice held his tail.
The meeting was complete.
Puck had spent the afternoon listening to Emilia talk about the mountain.
Not its destruction.
The gap.
Emilia said the sunset looked different.
That perhaps some flowers would receive more light.
That the animals would need to adapt to new routes.
That they should inspect the lake's waterway after it filled again.
Emilia possessed an infuriating ability to look at consequences before guilt.
She had not defended Link.
She had scolded him.
A lot.
She had also ended up asking whether next time he could build a mountain after destroying one.
Link had answered that perhaps Groudon could do it.
Emilia had become excited.
Beatrice nearly hit him again.
Puck had remained nearby.
Watching.
Listening.
Measuring.
Link displayed no fear of his own power.
He did fear disappointing Rem.
That could seem comical.
It was not.
The reaction proved that there were still things capable of stopping him before a barrier needed to.
That reassured Puck.
It also worried him.
One person should not carry the function of another person's limit.
Rem was his partner.
Not a chain around the neck of a beast.
Puck knew creatures that had confused love with permission to destroy.
He knew promises turned into cages.
He knew the way a protector could begin believing any action was acceptable so long as the correct name was spoken.
Link was not there.
Yet.
He did not seek to justify cruelty.
He did not enjoy other people's fear, except when Charmander appeared on a shelf and Subaru screamed.
He did not hurt others for pleasure.
He did not desire submission.
The danger came from somewhere else.
Link did not value his own body.
And when someone placed no value on the vessel, they could pour everything out without thinking about what would happen when it shattered.
Puck had watched Link during his spiritual training.
At first, he had been a beacon.
Too much mana released without purpose.
Spirits had approached out of curiosity, hunger, and confusion.
Most fled when the pressure rose.
Five remained.
Luci because of her bond.
The other four because Link's fire did not reject them.
That was strange.
Lesser spirits were sensitive to magical identity. Remaining near a source that was too powerful could dissolve or absorb them.
Link's mana was overwhelming.
Even so, they could inhabit it.
Move through his kagunes.
Enter Charizard's circuits.
Take heat without losing themselves.
There was room inside his fire.
Puck found that beautiful.
And dangerous.
A campfire let people gather.
A wildfire also attracted before becoming impossible to escape.
The memory of the sitting room during winter returned.
Rem inside Link's arms.
His horns visible.
His kagunes forming a shelter.
Luci growing between them.
Puck's cold advancing.
Then nothing.
No opposition.
No explosion.
Nothing.
His mana entered and ceased belonging to him.
Puck had lived long enough to recognize the difference between losing a confrontation and losing authority over his own magic.
That had been the second.
Link had not known.
He had continued drinking chocolate.
That detail did not make the phenomenon less dangerous.
It made it more so.
Puck had looked at Emilia's sleeping face before leaving.
The girl rested with one hand close to the crystal of their contract. She had murmured something about Charizard and the sea.
Rem and Link wanted to find it.
Emilia wanted to accompany them someday.
Subaru would invite himself.
Beatrice would protest.
Ram would declare that someone had to stop them from destroying the coast.
The image was pleasant.
It could exist.
That was one possible future.
Link building things.
Flying.
Cooking.
Returning to the manor covered in soot while Rem scolded him.
Subaru arguing with a stone machine.
Luci growing.
Emilia laughing.
A strange home.
The other future began the same way.
Then someone did not return.
Puck did not need to decide who.
The answer altered the shape of the disaster, not its existence.
If Emilia died, Puck knew what he would do.
He could not judge Link too harshly for the same possibility.
That did not mean he could ignore it either.
If Link lost Rem, the fire would have a name.
If he lost Subaru, perhaps it would not even need one.
And if either state threatened Emilia, Puck would have to act.
He disliked measuring someone close to him through the question of whether he could kill them.
He did it anyway.
At present, yes.
Probably.
If he used everything.
If Link did not dismantle his mana.
If regeneration had a limit.
If the horns could become saturated.
If the kagunes failed to absorb enough.
Too many ifs.
Puck left Emilia's room.
Entered the study.
He heard the final part of the conversation.
—So you already reached the possibility that he could dismantle our bodies —he said.
Beatrice tightened her grip on his tail.
—Don't say it that way.
—It's the quickest way.
Roswaal rested both elbows on the desk.
—Can he?
Puck moved one ear.
—Not today.
—I didn't ask about today.
—Then I have no answer.
—Beatrice agrees.
—Betty agrees with you on nothing.
Puck settled more comfortably on her.
—You agree on that.
Beatrice did not protest.
Roswaal took three cups.
He poured tea into two.
Sweetened milk into the third.
Beatrice watched.
—Betty didn't ask.
—I prepared it for Puck.
The spirit jumped onto the table.
—Thank you.
Beatrice took the cup of milk.
—Nii-cha cannot drink all of that.
Roswaal concealed a smile.
—Naturally.
Puck smelled the tea.
—What do you want to know?
—Link's future.
—I'm not a fortune-teller.
—None of us are tonight.
The sentence carried a weight Beatrice noticed.
Puck too.
Roswaal continued.
—I'm not asking what he will do tomorrow. I'm asking what he could become if he continues growing this way.
Beatrice drank her milk.
—A larger problem.
—He already is one.
Puck sat.
—Wrong question.
Roswaal tilted his head.
—Correct it.
—It doesn't matter what he becomes. It matters for whom.
Beatrice lowered the cup.
Puck looked toward the wooden flame on the map.
—Link doesn't want power for power's sake. He likes it, of course. Too much. But he isn't training only because he enjoys feeling strong.
—He wants to protect —Roswaal said.
—He wants to never be helpless again.
Puck had seen the difference.
A person who wanted to protect accepted help.
Built defenses.
Shared responsibility.
A person terrified of helplessness accumulated power until nobody else was needed.
Link stood between the two.
Rem pulled him toward the first.
Fear dragged him toward the second.
—His future will depend on which need wins —Puck concluded.
Roswaal touched the map.
—Either way, he will be useful.
Beatrice struck her cup against its saucer.
—He isn't a tool.
—We are all tools of our desires.
—That is a pretty phrase for justifying the use of people.
—I didn't intend it to be pretty.
Puck looked at Roswaal.
—Don't turn Rem into a leash either.
—I haven't.
—You thought about it.
Roswaal did not deny it.
Beatrice placed both hands on the desk.
—Rem is not a safety mechanism.
—She is the person he listens to most.
—That doesn't change what she is.
—Then call her an anchor.
—A person —Beatrice corrected.
Puck smiled faintly.
—I agree with Betty on that.
Beatrice lifted her chin.
—Nii-cha possesses judgment.
Roswaal spun Link's piece.
—A person may fulfill several functions.
—And you can receive a book in the face in several different ways, I suppose.
—Betty.
—Nii-cha.
—Not yet.
Beatrice lowered the book.
Roswaal did not appear intimidated.
He was probably too accustomed to it.
—Very well —he said—. Link cannot be controlled through Rem.
—Correct —both spirits answered.
—But she can help him preserve himself.
Puck thought.
—Yes.
Beatrice nodded with less enthusiasm.
—Then she remains relevant.
—As a person —she insisted.
—As a person.
Roswaal yielded too easily.
Neither trusted the surrender.
—Now —he continued—, can he surpass the kingdom's mages?
Beatrice frowned.
—He already surpasses many in quantity.
—Not technique —Puck said.
—Yet —Roswaal added.
Puck looked toward the balcony.
—He will not learn like a normal mage.
—I have observed that.
—Then stop comparing him to them.
Roswaal waited.
Puck chose his words.
—A mage learns to build a house. Foundations, walls, roof. Link imagines a finished house and throws materials at it until something remains standing.
Beatrice added:
—Then Betty stops it from collapsing.
—And each time he needs fewer corrections —Puck concluded—. I don't know if he will ever become the best mage. Perhaps he will never learn half of what Roswaal knows. He does not need to if he finds ways to skip half the rules.
Roswaal drank his tea.
—Then he can surpass technique without acquiring it.
—He can create problems that existing technique does not know how to solve —Beatrice said.
Silence returned.
The difference mattered.
Link did not need to cast a more powerful spell than Roswaal if he could build a machine that did.
He did not need to surpass Puck in temperature control if his mana could erase the order imposed on the cold.
He did not need to master Yin like Beatrice if his kagunes pierced a barrier before he understood it.
—And his ceiling? —Roswaal asked.
Beatrice looked at the pages in the book she carried.
She did not answer immediately.
—Far away.
—That isn't a measurement.
—It's the only responsible one.
—Could he reach us?
—In some things, he already has.
Puck moved his tail.
—In others, a child from Arlam can fool him with a simple question.
Beatrice nodded.
—His mind remains behind his body.
—Considerably —Roswaal said.
—That can change —she continued—. Technique can be taught. Control can be trained. His Gate can stabilize. The horns will learn. The kagunes already have.
Beatrice tightened her grip on the book.
—We don't know what happens when every part matures at the same time.
Roswaal imagined a stable Gate.
Two horns absorbing without loss.
Four kagunes functioning as perfect routes.
Five developed spirits.
Artifacts constructed without errors.
A mind that understood the rules it currently only imitated.
He did not need to say it.
Puck had seen the same image.
—Then we need to educate him —he said.
Beatrice looked at him.
—We already are.
—Not enough.
—Betty is not spending every morning preventing him from suffocating himself.
—Puck can supervise the spells.
—Betty will review his Gate and circuits.
Roswaal smiled.
—I'll provide barriers for large-scale testing.
Both spirits looked at him.
—No —they said.
—It's the safest option.
—You want to observe —Puck replied.
—That too.
—You want to use the results —Beatrice said.
—Naturally.
—Then don't pretend concern.
Roswaal set down his cup.
—I don't need to pretend.
The answer subtly changed the atmosphere.
Beatrice studied him.
Puck stopped moving his tail.
—Link lives within my territory —Roswaal continued—. He is connected to my candidate, my employees, and a population under my protection. If he loses control, the problem will become mine before anyone else's.
—That remains self-interest —Beatrice said.
—I never claimed otherwise.
—And if he remains stable —Puck added—, he can protect Emilia.
—Yes.
—There it is.
—That too.
Roswaal looked at the absent mountain.
—I am not ashamed to recognize usefulness. Ignoring it would be more irresponsible.
Puck disagreed with the man.
He agreed with the sentence.
That was irritating.
—We need rules —Beatrice said.
Roswaal opened a fresh sheet.
—I'm listening.
—No large-scale testing without at least two of us present.
—Three —Puck corrected.
—Two are enough.
—Yesterday he needed all three.
Beatrice remembered the second barrier cracking.
—Three for Explosion.
—And anything Link describes as "relatively small" —Puck added.
Roswaal wrote.
—That will include far too much.
—That's the intention —both replied.
—He will not experiment near Arlam —Beatrice continued—, the manor, roads, fields, rivers, lakes, protected forests, or mountains with territorial value.
Roswaal lifted the pen.
—There won't be many places left.
—Good.
Puck added:
—Every new spell must first be tested at minimum output.
Roswaal smiled.
—He won't obey.
—Rem will make him —Beatrice said.
The three fell silent.
Beatrice closed her eyes.
—As a person involved in caring for him, I suppose.
—Naturally —Roswaal replied.
Puck hid a laugh.
—He also needs to record what he does.
Beatrice struck the notebook.
—With readable drawings.
—That may be impossible —Roswaal said.
—Betty will teach him.
—Voluntarily?
—To prevent him from drawing another mana route like an onion.
Puck raised one paw.
—I will monitor his relationship with the spirits. Luci may continue growing, but she must not force the other four.
—She does not appear capable of forcing them —Roswaal observed.
—Yet.
The word remained marked.
Beatrice looked at the ninth page.
—And he will not be told what happened to Nii-cha's mana.
—Agreed —Puck said.
Roswaal took longer.
—Why?
Both spirits looked at him as though the answer were obvious.
Beatrice spoke.
—Because he'll try repeating it.
Puck added:
—Probably with me.
Roswaal imagined Link raising one finger.
"Just a small test."
—Agreed.
The pen wrote another line.
—What do we tell him when he asks why supervision has increased?
—The truth —Puck answered—. That he is reckless.
—He already knows that.
—He does not believe it.
Beatrice drank her milk.
—Betty will tell him he's an idiot.
—He knows that too.
—That one he believes.
Roswaal finished the list.
Studied it.
Rules.
Supervision.
Records.
Control.
It resembled a plan.
It was not enough.
No plan could be enough when it depended on Link recognizing the difference between a ball of fire and a phenomenon capable of drying an entire lake.
—We won't be able to stop him forever —Roswaal said.
Puck settled down.
—We shouldn't.
Beatrice looked at her brother.
—Nii-cha.
—If we lock him away, he'll train alone. If we forbid everything, he'll hide more. If we treat him like a threat, eventually he'll believe he is one.
The little spirit lowered her gaze.
—Then...
—We have to teach him to stay.
Beatrice understood.
Not contain his power.
Not break his will.
Give him reasons to return.
Rem was already one.
Subaru another.
The manor was beginning to become one.
The spirits.
The kitchen.
Charmander.
Charizard.
The arguments.
A notebook containing spells that needed Link to return with it.
Puck looked toward the door.
—His future can be a campfire.
Roswaal raised an eyebrow.
—A campfire?
—Heat. Light. Somewhere people gather. Something that protects during the night.
—Or a wildfire —Beatrice said.
—Yes.
—A simplistic comparison.
—The best ones usually are.
Roswaal picked up the small wooden flame from the map.
—Then we will make sure he doesn't lose his home.
Beatrice extended a hand.
—Give it to me.
—What?
—That.
Roswaal handed over the piece.
Beatrice examined it.
The wooden flame had been badly carved.
The kagunes were not properly symmetrical.
One was shorter than the others.
—Ram made it —Roswaal said.
—It shows.
—What are you doing?
Beatrice placed the piece on the map.
Not beside Emilia.
Not beside Roswaal.
She placed it over the manor.
—For now, he belongs here, I suppose.
Puck moved his tail.
Roswaal looked at its position.
—For now.
All three accepted the phrase.
Not the same meaning.
A knock came from the door.
Ram entered without waiting for an answer.
—Roswaal-sama.
—Yes?
—Link is here.
—Send him in.
Ram did not move.
—Rem too.
Puck looked at Beatrice.
Beatrice looked at Roswaal.
Roswaal smiled.
—Naturally.
—Subaru is behind them.
The smile diminished.
—Emilia-sama?
—She tried to come. Rem convinced her to finish her studies.
Puck relaxed.
Ram continued.
—Link wants to know whether he's being accused of destroying more property.
—Tell him not yet.
—Ram already did.
—Then send him in.
Ram opened the door.
Link entered first.
He had a flour stain on his shirt and a small red drawing stuck to his cheek. Luci rode on top of his head. The quasi-spirit held a tiny spoon made of light.
Rem walked beside him.
She carried a tray of cookies.
Subaru poked his head in behind them.
—I knew it was a secret meeting.
Ram shut the door on his face.
—Hey!
His voice remained in the hallway.
Link looked at Roswaal.
Then Beatrice.
Then Puck.
Finally, at the papers on the desk.
—You were talking about me.
Nobody answered.
—That was way too much silence.
Beatrice raised her book.
—We were talking about how annoying you are, I suppose.
—You could've done that during dinner.
—You would have interrupted.
—That proves I had a right to.
Rem set down the tray.
—Roswaal-sama said he needed to see you.
Ram moved beside the desk.
Crimson Heart's light remained steady.
Link noticed it.
—You're still wearing the collar.
Ram looked at him.
—Ram has yet to find a suitable moment to return it.
—It's been several days.
—Winter might return.
—It ended.
—Weather is unpredictable.
Link smiled.
—You like it.
—Ram appreciates not feeling cold.
—That means you like it.
—It means the artifact fulfills its minimum function.
—I'll take that.
Ram looked away.
Rem watched the exchange with a faint smile.
Roswaal coughed.
Everyone looked at him.
—We have a small problem.
Link pointed toward the map.
—The mountain?
—Another one.
—The lake?
—Another one.
—Groudon?
Beatrice opened her eyes.
—What did you do to Groudon?
—Nothing.
—That answer came too quickly, I suppose.
Roswaal raised one of the reports.
—Mabeasts.
The humor left Link's face.
Rem changed too.
—Near Arlam? —she asked.
—Not yet. Several packs are approaching from the west.
Link instinctively sniffed the air.
He could not detect them from that distance inside the manor.
—Why?
Ram answered.
—Because someone has spent several days producing explosions, fires, mana shockwaves, artificial dragons, and alterations to the terrain.
—I only made one artificial dragon.
—Also an ice one.
—That one disappeared.
—So did the mountain.
—Everyone is too sensitive about the mountain.
Roswaal placed the reports in front of them.
—The explosions frightened away ordinary animals and altered their territories. The Mabeasts followed the empty space and residual mana.
Link took the first page.
The handwriting was too precise for him to read quickly.
He handed it to Rem.
She examined it.
—Three confirmed groups.
—Four —Ram corrected—. I found another trail on my way back.
—How many?
—Between thirty and forty smaller specimens. Possibly one larger one.
Subaru struck the door from outside.
—DID SHE SAY FORTY?!
Ram opened it.
Subaru fell inside.
He had been leaning against the door.
—I overheard accidentally.
—Barusu was using the door as a pillow.
—It was a strategic position.
Roswaal ignored the entrance.
—Link, you will clear the area.
He lifted his head.
—Alone?
—With Ram.
They looked at each other.
—With him? —Ram asked.
—With her? —Link asked.
Rem closed the report.
—Rem can accompany him.
—You will remain here —Roswaal said—. The Wolgarms in the enclosure are restless. I need you to control the pack and protect the manor if any creature manages to circle around.
Rem did not look satisfied.
—Ram knows the western boundary better —Roswaal added—. She can locate targets using Fura, guide you through the routes, and evaluate whether the terrain remains in acceptable condition.
Link crossed his arms.
—That last part means watching me.
—Yes —everyone answered.
Luci raised one hand.
—Supervision.
Link looked upward.
—You didn't need to participate.
—Bad.
—That either.
Puck flew toward the map.
—I'll remain with Lia. Once my usual hours end, you shouldn't rely on me being able to cover the entire boundary.
—Beatrice —Link said.
—Betty is not chasing dogs through a forest, I suppose.
—They're Mabeasts.
—More unpleasant dogs.
Roswaal clasped his hands.
—It should be a simple mission.
Link looked at the margrave.
—Every time someone says that, something tries to open my stomach.
Rem tightened her fingers around the report.
—When do they leave?
Ram answered.
—Now.
—At night?
—The packs move toward the domain during the night.
Link smiled slightly.
—Then it'll be quick.
Ram raised one finger.
—You will not use Explosion.
—I wasn't planning to.
—Nor Cruel Sun.
—There's no lake.
—Nor will you create one.
—I can't create lakes.
Everyone looked toward the missing mountain.
—I could create the space for one —Link corrected.
Ram closed her eye.
—Not that either.
Roswaal pointed toward the newly written list.
—Actually, we have established several new rules.
Link looked at the pages.
—When?
—Recently.
—Without me?
—If you participated, we would never finish.
Subaru picked up one page.
Read.
—"No large-scale testing without three supervisors."
Link turned toward Beatrice.
—Betrayal.
—Common sense.
Subaru continued.
—"Any spell described as relatively small will be considered large-scale until proven otherwise."
Puck raised one paw.
—That one was mine.
—You too.
—Thank you.
—That wasn't praise.
Subaru moved to the next line.
—"Experimentation prohibited near villages, manors, roads, fields, rivers, lakes, protected forests, mountains with territorial value..."
He looked up.
—Where is he supposed to train?
Roswaal picked up the pen.
—We are still searching.
Link grabbed the list.
—"Record every spell with readable diagrams." This is calligraphic discrimination.
Beatrice crossed her arms.
—Learn to write.
—I can write.
—Your Goa looks like an order to boil horses.
—Only once.
—That doesn't help.
Rem touched Link's arm.
—The rules seem reasonable.
He looked at her.
—You were involved in this.
—No.
—You approved them with your face.
—Link needs supervision.
—I thought we were a couple.
—Precisely.
Ram took a cloak from the back of a chair.
—The domestic argument can continue after eliminating the Mabeasts.
Link looked at Ram's clothes.
—You're going dressed like that?
—Ram will change.
—You're wearing the collar.
Her hand unconsciously touched the lagmite.
—The night is cold.
—Then it works.
—Ram never said otherwise.
Link smiled.
Ram pointed toward the door.
—Leave before Ram decides the Mabeasts deserve to survive more than you do.
Rem followed Link into the corridor.
Subaru tried to follow.
Ram stopped him with one hand against his face.
—Barusu stays.
—I can help.
—How?
Subaru thought.
—Morale.
—Ram prefers the Mabeasts.
The door closed again.
Preparation took less than twenty minutes.
Ram changed out of her uniform and into traveling clothes.
Dark trousers beneath a shorter skirt, high boots, a cloak, and gloves. Crimson Heart was partly hidden beneath the collar, although its red light appeared every time she moved her head.
She carried a short staff.
It was not necessary for Wind Magic.
It was useful for pushing aside branches, inspecting tracks, and hitting Link without wasting mana.
He suspected that last purpose.
He did not ask.
Link put on the reinforced jacket.
Briefly manifested his kagunes to check the openings.
Then hid them again.
He carried no weapons.
Ram watched.
—Nothing?
—I have four.
—Ram meant tools.
—Those too.
Rem had prepared a backpack.
Concentrated broth.
Dried meat.
Water.
Bandages Link would not need and Ram might.
A magical compass.
Two communication stones.
A map.
Link examined the contents.
—We'll be back before we need half of this.
—Then you will return with all of it —Rem said.
—Yes.
She adjusted one of the straps.
Then inspected his neck.
His clothes.
Hands.
Face.
Ram waited near the front door.
She did not complain.
She merely looked away with a courtesy nobody had requested.
—You will not use large-scale magic —Rem said.
—I've already been told.
—Rem wants to hear it.
Link held her gaze.
—I will not use large-scale magic.
—And you will not train along the way.
—Does running count?
—Yes.
—Then we'll be walking for hours.
—You will walk.
Ram spoke without turning around.
—Ram will not drag a two-thousand-ton rock behind the gardener.
Link raised an eyebrow.
—I wasn't planning to bring it.
—Ram has already learned that the absence of an idea does not prevent it from appearing.
Rem took Link's hands.
—If you feel hungry...
Her voice lowered.
Ram could hear.
She did not pretend otherwise.
—I'll tell you.
—You will not eat anything without knowing what it is.
—They're Mabeasts.
—They aren't all the same.
—Yes.
—And if you lose control...
Link tightened his fingers around hers.
—I won't.
Rem did not immediately accept the answer.
He corrected himself.
—If I feel it happening, I'll tell Ram.
The pink-haired maid turned her face.
—Ram would prefer to learn before you attempt to bite her.
—I'm not hungry for Onis.
—What a relief.
Rem stepped closer.
Link lowered his face.
The kiss was gentle.
Not long.
Not hidden either.
When it ended, they kept their foreheads together.
—Come back —she said.
—Always.
The word carried a weight Ram did not understand.
But she noticed it.
She looked toward the door.
Subaru appeared at the top of the stairs.
He did not joke.
He lifted one hand.
Link answered.
That was all.
Ram opened the entrance.
Night air entered.
Luci floated in front of Link.
The other four lesser spirits emerged from different corners of the foyer. The Red Flame settled onto his left shoulder. The Bluish-White Sphere near his right. The Ember Bird flew outside. The Golden Light left a faint trail over the steps.
—They're coming —Link said.
—Ram assumed so.
—Luci counts as a supervisor.
—No.
—She's a quasi-spirit.
—She still obeys Rem before you.
Luci lifted both arms.
—Rem. Good.
Link closed his eyes.
—I did not need confirmation.
Rem smiled from the entrance.
Ram started walking.
—If the gardener finishes his farewell before dawn, the Mabeasts will appreciate the consideration.
Link took two steps.
Came back.
Kissed Rem's cheek once more.
—That was the last one.
Ram continued without stopping.
—Ram will count how long it takes before you lie.
Link caught up with the maid.
The manor remained behind.
They did not use Charizard.
Roswaal had forbidden flight because the roar and the flame on its tail could scatter the packs before they located every group.
They walked along the western road.
Moonlight illuminated part of the path.
Luci and the Golden Light handled the rest.
For the first few minutes, neither spoke.
It was not uncomfortable.
Ram knew how to remain silent.
So did Link, whenever Subaru was not nearby forcing him to answer something.
The forest began closing around them.
Branches covered the moon.
The temperature dropped.
Link looked at the collar.
—Are you cold?
—No.
—Crimson Heart works.
—We already established that.
—I was only checking.
—The gardener wants to hear praise.
—No.
—You lie worse than Emilia-sama.
Link fell silent.
Ram walked several more steps.
—It fulfills its function —she said.
He looked at her.
—Was that praise?
—Do not abuse it.
—I'll save it.
—Ram can take it back.
—You cannot withdraw words.
—Ram can hit you until you forget.
Link smiled.
The path ended.
Ahead stretched the western region of the domain.
Taller trees.
Uneven terrain.
Moss-covered rocks.
No human lights.
Ram raised one hand.
Link stopped.
She closed her eye.
Wind appeared around her fingers.
Not a visible gust.
Thin currents extended between the trees, curled around trunks, passed beneath bushes, and traveled along the ground.
Ram listened through them.
Movement.
Breathing.
Fur brushing against wood.
Claws digging into earth.
She opened her eye.
—The report was wrong.
Link breathed through his nose.
His sense of smell extended.
Wet earth.
Leaves.
Distant water.
Ram.
The metal of her staff.
Spiritual fire.
And underneath...
Miasma.
Not Subaru's scent.
Not that heavy, familiar presence his body recognized without hunger.
This was different.
Animal.
Rotten.
Spread across dozens of points.
Saliva gathered in Link's mouth.
His stomach contracted.
The kakugan threatened to appear.
—How many? —he asked.
Ram looked into the darkness.
Pairs of eyes began lighting between the trees.
One.
Five.
Twelve.
Too many to immediately count.
A growl traveled through the forest.
Another answered from the opposite side.
They had been surrounded before reaching the center.
—More than fifty —Ram said.
Link manifested all four kagunes.
The red structures emerged slowly, brushing branches and lifting leaves.
Both horns appeared.
Their crimson lines lit up.
Luci descended onto his shoulder.
—Bad —she murmured.
—Yes.
Ram watched Link's profile.
His eyes turned black.
The red pupils fixed on the first creature.
He did not look afraid.
Nor excited in the same way he did while casting a spell.
There was something more primitive.
Quieter.
—Link.
He did not look away.
—Yes?
—Are you hungry?
The Mabeasts took one step closer.
The scent intensified.
Link showed his teeth slightly.
—An amount.
Ram held the staff.
Wind began revolving around them.
—Then Ram expects you to remember your table manners.
The first Mabeast leapt from the darkness.
Link smiled.
—No promises.