Thanks to Ash's lack of horns, their journey north went surprisingly smoothly.
A herd of animals plodded through the jungle, pulling a single carriage. Ash sat at the front, reins in hand, playing the role of driver. Inside the carriage, Aura lounged like a noble lady, veiled and wrapped in garments that made her look like a merchant's daughter from the far south.
"Ugh, I'm bored. Ash, tell me a joke." Aura's muffled voice floated from behind the curtains.
"Don't bother me. I'm reading." His reply was sharp, without hesitation.
"A new book again? What's so interesting about human history? You're so weird."
"I'd rather be weird than ignorant like you." Ash flicked the reins absently, his attention fixed on the weathered book resting on his lap. He had bought it in the last town, a volume of human history.
Amid Aura's occasional interruptions, Ash discovered something remarkable buried in the yellowed pages of the tome, a gift tossed in for free because of its poor condition.
"…Five hundred years ago, humanity entered a new age where magic became accessible to everyone. The Great Mage Volame… and even his master, said to be closest to the goddess herself… Celie?"
Ash turned the fragile pages with care, feeling as though he had stumbled upon the shadow of a long-lost, extraordinary figure. His lips curved into a wistful sigh. "…If only I could have studied under this Celie. Volame's magic five centuries ago was already beyond anything in our era. Celie must have been even greater, right?"
"You do know those two would never have taught demons, right?" Aura had crept up behind him, her chin pressed against his shoulder as her horns dug into his temple. She poured cold water on his fantasy without a shred of sympathy.
"…It's just idle talk. Five hundred years have passed. Who even knows if Celie still exists? And—your horn's stabbing me. Move away."
Ash was left with nothing but regret for the legendary mage, immortalized in a single sentence of history.
If someone like that had guided him, if the strongest magician alive had taught him… maybe he wouldn't have been forced to hide away in the mountains. Maybe the village's tragedy could have been avoided. He found himself sighing this way often as he read.
But such thoughts were only dreams. Time travel was nothing more than a fantasy.
For days, they plodded onward, carriage creaking along, their minds quietly turning over the same question: where could they find a safe place to continue their research?
Dawn broke one morning, the horizon painted pale gold. The air was cold and damp, the endless road before them utterly deserted. Their lonely carriage rolled slowly toward the border.
Ahead, the crossing was blocked by a squad of armed soldiers.
"…Because it's wartime, they're not letting anyone leave," Ash muttered, troubled.
Aura's voice drifted from the carriage: "Should we just kill them?"
"…Don't act rashly. There might be more troops nearby."
"Fine, fine, whatever you say."
Ash climbed down from the driver's seat, facing the soldiers who encircled him. He pulled out some coins, intending to bribe his way through, but things took an unexpected turn.
Instead of pocketing the money and letting him pass, the soldiers seized him. Aura, still looking like a child in her disguise, was waved off and ordered to leave.
It was conscription.
In wartime, it was common to draft civilians for labor or the army. Suddenly Ash understood why the road had been so empty: locals already knew soldiers were stationed here, waiting to press men into service.
What should he do? Kill them? Go along and escape later? Try to slip away peacefully? He hesitated, caught Aura's worried gaze from the distance, and gave her the slightest shake of his head. Without resistance, he was dragged away.
The two were forced apart.
Aura lingered for a moment, unsettled. Then she turned aside, choosing a long detour north through the forests, away from human settlements.
"It's Ash we're talking about. He won't die that easily~" With this comforting thought, she pressed on.
Ash's fate was uncertain. Instead of being thrown into hard labor building fortifications, he was brought directly to a camp for new recruits.
During registration, he mentioned his knowledge of magic and proved it with a demonstration. That won him a place as a battlefield mage, with treatment far better than that of common conscripts.
In the camp, the country's magical resources were open to him. For the first time, Ash felt perhaps he didn't need to risk everything to reach the north. He buried himself in study, devoting every day to magic.
A month passed like this. Then he was issued a saber and a robe and ordered to march with the army against their enemies.
That night, the atmosphere in the mage corps was heavy. Many of his companions had been dragged into service against their will, just like him.
Still, mages received better treatment than ordinary soldiers. Ash and three others traveled together in a carriage rather than trudging on foot. It wasn't kindness—merely preservation of their strength for battle.
But the mood inside was grim.
"I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to die…" The young woman across from Ash sat curled in a corner, arms wrapped around her knees, whispering the mantra over and over, her body trembling visibly.
Beside Ash, a middle-aged woman silently rubbed her thumb across a folded letter. He knew what it was—words from her daughter.
It wasn't unusual. Most who endured the battlefield clung to memories of family or lovers, leaning on them to survive the nightmare. This world was no exception.
In the opposite corner, an old man with a long white beard clasped a wooden idol of the goddess and prayed fervently. Ash knew from their brief acquaintance that he wasn't a true believer. He was only praying now, cramming for salvation at the last possible moment.
Whether such desperate prayers held any power… the next battlefield would provide the answer.