Chapter 60: Chapter 60: Echoes!
Whir...
That night, sleep would not come for Takson. He lay in his bed at the inn, staring up at the dark ceiling, his mind racing.
The images from earlier that day played over and over in his head. He saw the sky outside the city turn a deep, blood-red, a strange barrier sealing off the world.
He saw the sky erupt in a storm of multi-colored lights, flashes of magic so powerful they made the ground tremble miles away.
And most vividly, he remembered the final transformation, the brilliant white figure that had appeared in the sky, like an angel from the holy texts.
"Teacher, what happened out there?" he whispered to the empty, quiet room. He had asked himself the same question a hundred times already.
He had known better than to run out to the battlefield.
He was strong, but he knew he would have only been a burden in a fight of that magnitude.
He had done the only thing he could: he had run to the city walls, hoping to get a clearer view, to be a witness.
But by the time he had gotten there, the spectacle was over. The battlefield was a desolate, scarred landscape. The demons were gone. The enemy was gone. And his teacher was gone. There was no one.
Tap.
The sound was small, but in the dead silence of the inn, it was as loud as a drumbeat. It came from the room next to his. His teacher's room.
She's back!
The thought sent a jolt of relief and excitement through him. He threw back his covers and scrambled out of bed, not even bothering to put on his shoes. He rushed to her door, his heart pounding.
He didn't knock. In his haste, the thought didn't even occur to him. He just threw the door open.
….
Serie returned to her sanctuary, a hidden city built by her most devoted followers. It was a place dedicated to a single purpose: the study of magic.
Her disciples, the most brilliant mages of the age, had come from all corners of the continent to learn from her.
With their combined power, they had raised a fortress of spell-craft, a magical utopia.
And with Serie herself standing as its guardian, it was arguably the safest place in the world.
When she walked through the gates, she was smiling. It was not her usual, faint, condescending smirk. It was a genuine, unrestrained smile, filled with a childlike delight.
Her followers, who were used to her perpetual state of boredom, were stunned into silence.
"What's happened to Lady Serie?" one whispered to another.
"I have no idea. Has something made her happy?"
"What could possibly make her this happy?"
"Perhaps she found a new student with great potential?"
"No, it must be more than that. I've seen her find promising students before. She's never looked this... alive."
She felt as if the weight of centuries, the crushing boredom of an immortal life, had been lifted from her shoulders in a single, exhilarating afternoon.
Serie, of course, heard their hushed, bewildered conversations. She paid them no mind. She walked through the grand library, her personal sanctum, and ran a hand along the leather spines of the countless grimoires she had collected over the millennia.
"An angel..." she murmured, the name a soft breath on her lips. "Stell..."
She stopped at a large window and looked out, her gaze fixed on the northern horizon. It was as if she could see through the miles of mountains and forests, her senses locked onto a single, specific target.
"I look forward to our next meeting."
….
On the stone bridge leading out of the city gate...
Hm?
Stell blinked, stopped walking, and turned her head to look in a specific direction.
Ah. It's Serie.
It made sense. In a world like this, a mage of Serie's caliber would naturally possess a spell for ultra-long-range mana detection.
They had spent several months in the city. Flamme, who visited Stell regularly for her "lessons," had become good friends with Takson.
To him, she was like the little sister he never had. Her cheerful, innocent nature was a soothing balm to his own troubled soul.
The day after the demon attack, Stell had announced their departure.
The goodbyes had been blessedly free of tears.
Takson had passed on the city lord's invitation, but Stell, as expected, had refused. It was an unnecessary waste of time.
The thought of taking Flamme with them had never even crossed her mind. The girl had a loving family and a safe home. It was too soon.
Takson had just finished his own round of farewells and now jogged to catch up, weaving through the morning crowd.
"Teacher~! I'm back! Huh?" He saw Stell looking off into the distance and immediately knew something was up. "Is there a problem?" He pulled his axe from its holster on his pack, instinctively moving to stand in front of Stell, ready for a fight.
A moment later, a small hand rested on the blade of his axe, gently pushing it down.
"Answer: I detected the presence of yesterday's opponent," Stell explained. "I was simply confirming its location."
"Oh—so that's what it was." Takson sheepishly put his weapon away. He didn't question the identity of this "opponent." He knew his teacher would never let a demon escape.
"Query: Have you completed the task I assigned you?"
"That? Don't worry, Teacher. I always complete my missions with 100% efficiency." He paused. "But Teacher, are you really not going to say a single word of goodbye?" The thought that his teacher would just leave without a word bothered him.
"Rebuttal: I provided a parting gift."
"You mean that huge pile of grimoires? Yeah, that was a lot of books. But couldn't you have just opened a 'gate' and put them in her room?"
"Explanation: Consider it part of your daily physical training."
Stell offered no further explanation and started walking again.
"I guess that makes sense," Takson said, falling into step beside her. "But still, I think a personal goodbye would have been better than a gift. She thought of us as friends."
"..."
Ah, there it is again. Takson sighed internally. Whenever the conversation turned to matters of the heart, his teacher would simply shut down.
Is this just how angels are? He was used to it, but he wondered what Flamme would think.
Stell, seemingly oblivious to her apprentice's brief moment of melancholy, simply continued down the dirt road, leading the way.
….
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