"I've never encountered anyone who knew this many detection-type spells before. Just now she cast over a hundred different spells on us alone, and that instinct of hers is terrifyingly sharp."
After Serie had led little Flamme away, Nanoda — or more precisely, Sode — reconstituted herself in place, her form coalescing particle by particle out of nothing.
"A Mythical Era elf, same as her. A walking grimoire library — Serie. To think she would turn up here of all places."
Having avoided a direct confrontation with that ancient one, Nanoda quietly breathed a sigh of relief. "Then again, what you just used was Paradox Magic, wasn't it? And even Serie — the one with the most complete magical knowledge in existence — couldn't detect it?"
"That was a paradox of self-existence. My most prized paradox. Not even that Goddess herself can unravel it."
Sode paused, then asked: "I've demonstrated quite a lot now. So — what do you make of Paradox Magic?"
"It feels… impossible to grasp."
"How much of it have you learned?"
"Absolutely none of it," Nanoda answered with complete honesty.
"You really do have no talent for magic whatsoever, do you."
Sode shook his head with a touch of exasperation. Nanoda's answer left something to be desired.
By any normal measure, after sharing in the experience of Paradox Magic for so long, one ought to have developed at least some understanding, some impression of it. Yet Nanoda still appeared to have grasped nothing at all.
"…Can I just memorize the spell formulae by rote?"
It wasn't the first time she'd been told she had no magical aptitude. Both Aura and Qual had said the same of her.
"Knowing the formulae alone doesn't guarantee you can actually cast Paradox Magic. What matters most is the feeling of it — the sense of it in the moment of casting."
"I'll do my best."
"Unstable Paradox Magic will only get you killed in real combat. I'll do my best to pass it on to you before you go back."
"…Thank you."
Nanoda's tone was flat and sincere.
"Is that what they call goodwill? I've never received goodwill before. It's… not bad."
He smiled, baring his fangs — but Nanoda knew that beneath it, nothing in him had actually stirred.
"In my eyes, you've already become quite human. Even if it's a little hollow."
"I suppose this is the part where I'm meant to say thank you as well?"
"Whatever you like."
Neither spoke again. They resumed their journey in silence, continuing the search for the Goddess's stone monument.
...
"A new Demon King has appeared — and this is exactly the moment for us to form a Hero's Party and go slay him!"
A young man with a longsword on his back and a face that could be described as reasonably handsome in an ordinary sort of way was enthusiastically sharing his ideals and plans with his companions.
"With us? We struggle just dealing with a single magical beast," said the short, wiry male monk, arms folded around a Scripture, dutifully trailing along behind the swordsman.
"But things are different now! We have someone as powerful as Lady Hans in our party."
Following the swordsman's words, the monk turned to look. At the very back of the group walked a tall, grey-haired woman of striking beauty — voluptuous in the extreme — and she winked at him. Those flirtatious, heavy-lidded eyes struck him like a blow to the chest, and his composure crumbled.
The monk snapped his head back around and clutched the Scripture to his chest, reciting a silent prayer to the Goddess to banish impure thoughts.
Hans — a perfectly ordinary male name, as common as they came — and yet it genuinely belonged to this provocatively dressed, mature beauty of a Mage.
And like her name, she was a woman full of contradictions.
When the swordsman and monk had been surrounded by magical beasts and on the verge of a miserable end, this Mage had happened to pass by — and with her alone, using some unknown black-and-white beam of magical light, she had swept every last one of them away.
She hadn't even used a staff to help channel her Mana.
Neither of them had ever seen a Mage like her.
One had to remember: this was a thousand years in the past. Human Mages were still in their most primitive stage. Most of what passed for Mage magic was little better than parlor tricks — flashy, but with no real power to hurt anything.
Priests and warriors of the Goddess's Order were the dominant professions of the age.
After a great deal of persuasion, Lady Hans had agreed to join their party.
To the young swordsman, it felt like a dream.
A Mage who could wipe out entire swarms of magical beasts — beautiful and powerful in equal measure, nearly perfect in every way — and she had simply accepted his invitation without any fuss.
Did she have feelings for him?
The young swordsman had already begun daydreaming: himself grown strong, the Demon King slain, and a marriage proposal on his lips. What would they name the children?
The short, wiry monk, meanwhile, was quietly uneasy. The divine blessings he received from the Goddess were meager at best; all he could manage were a few low-tier healing and support spells.
The swordsman was reasonably capable — between the two of them, taking down a mid-sized magical beast took effort, but it was doable.
And yet Lady Hans was someone who could have easily qualified to join a party capable of bringing down massive magical beasts — and instead she had chosen this ragtag little group that couldn't even afford to buy proper equipment.
Why?
The monk grew increasingly uneasy the longer he spent with her. The more time passed, the more he felt that something about Lady Hans was… off.
Some instinct in him resisted, in a way he couldn't put words to.
The party's leader was the swordsman, and when it came to Lady Hans's presence, the monk had never managed to raise any real objection. For now, at least, the journey had been peaceful enough.
"I'm all for it~"
In that signature rich, mature voice of hers, Hans raised one pale, slender arm — smooth as a lotus root — and parted her red lips.
"Don't worry — I'm sure we'll keep getting stronger along the way to slaying the Demon King!"
The swordsman was brimming with confidence. He believed that one day, Lady Hans would be just as swept away by his growth as the Demon King would be.
"Heh…"
The monk laughed awkwardly. He knew his own limits well enough; the swordsman's talent genuinely did surpass his own.
Still — ever since Lady Hans had joined them, the swordsman had changed somehow.
"Hm? Looks like there's someone up ahead."
Mid-stride, the swordsman's voice suddenly carried back from the front of the group.
With the Demon Race and magical beasts prowling the land, people generally traveled in groups — at the very least in pairs. Running into someone alone in the middle of nowhere, far from any town, was rare.
Such a person was usually either a sole survivor fleeing a beast attack, or someone of extraordinary ability — like Lady Hans.
The young swordsman looked closer. It was a girl — a young one, wearing a pointed mage's hat with the brim pulled low, shadowing everything above her nose. But from the clean, smooth line of her jaw and the soft curve of her lips, he was certain she was beautiful.
He stared at the slender figure wrapped in black robes, as though trying to see straight through her from a distance.
Sensing the gaze, Nanoda — who had been standing at the roadside mulling over her directions — looked up along the road toward them.
"I can't quite put my finger on it, but that human's stare feels a bit…"
"No need to put a finger on it. He's just [censored]."
Nanoda paid no mind to the swordsman's burning gaze. Instead, her attention went to the last figure in the group — the voluptuous, mature beauty at the back.
At that moment, Lady Hans's two elegant brows had drawn together, and she was biting down lightly on her lower lip.
"What is it?"
"My instincts are telling me — that presence, that air about her… I feel as though I've run into an old acquaintance."
What Nanoda was referring to was not the approaching swordsman — but Lady 'Hans' at the back of the party.
____
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