episode_0061

“Take it back. What you just said.”

“Huh? Uh…”

An unexpected provocation had struck deeper than intended. The adventurer who’d been picking a fight was now caught off guard by the intensity of the reaction, one he hadn’t anticipated.

But soon, a sharp nudge from his companion snapped him back to his senses. Recognizing the opportunity, he curled his lips into a mocking smirk.

“Did I lie? I heard Riel Frost from the Hero’s Party was the strongest mage, someone who never backed down from any foe. A true hero—someone who’d sooner give up her life than abandon her comrades. But look at you now. Hiding behind a woman, begging for protection like a coward—what happened to that hero?”

His brazenness stemmed from certainty that Arina had withdrawn because she was injured.

Though not entirely true, the mana swirling inside her had indeed crippled her combat ability—close enough. Back when she first absorbed it, the mana had gnawed at her life force. Now, by Nyad’s grace, it lay dormant. But forcing it awake would reignite its hunger, eventually consuming her.

“You bastard—!”

“Arina, hold back.”

Ian stepped forward, blocking Arina with a raised hand as she bristled at the taunt. Her gaze flicked to the two swords at his waist—one, the blade of House Felix; the other, a gift from the old blacksmith.

“Ian, hand one over. I’ve seen enough swordplay on the battlefield to be sick of it. With a weapon, trash like him is nothing.”

“No.”

Ian stepped away from her outstretched hand, refusing flatly.

“Why not?”

“You’ll fight if I give it to you. I won’t let you get hurt.”

“Ian. Are you treating me like some damsel in distress now?”

Her pride stung, Arina glared, but Ian knew better. Even if he handed her a sword, she wouldn’t be able to wield it properly.

Arina, who’d never lifted anything heavier than a spoon outside her staff, lacked the strength to swing a blade with those slender arms. Both of Ian’s swords were heavy, weighted for his preference. No matter her theoretical skill, fighting with an unwieldy weapon would only get her hurt.

Her stubbornness frustrated him.

“It’s the truth right now. Can’t you just hold back?”

“No. I can’t.”

Arina was just as anxious. No matter how strong Ian and Millen were compared to their foes, to her, it was a contest between acorns.

If they were a step above, she was a hundred. Watching them dodge blades by a hair’s breadth from her vantage as an overwhelming force—one who could wipe them all out with a gesture—was nerve-wracking.

It felt like sending a child to war.

Standing idle didn’t suit her. She’d force her way into the fight if she had to.

Their stalemate broke not by choice, but by an enemy’s strike.

“Eyes on the fight, idiot!”

Ian pivoted, narrowly avoiding an axe aimed at his back. A kick shattered the haft as it buried into the ground. While the disarmed adventurer stared dumbly at the broken handle, Arina shouted.

“See that? What if you hadn’t dodged? Let me help!”

To Arina, who fought by obliterating foes before they could close in, this was reckless.

“I wouldn’t have gotten hit. Stop meddling and stay put.”

Ian’s patience frayed. The dodge had been clean—what was she even worried about?

As the two bickered, the adventurer lunged with a hidden dagger.

“Die—Huh?!”

Ian caught the blade mid-swing, twisting the man’s wrist until he dropped it with a yelp.

“See? You really think I’d lose to these clowns?”

“…You never know. If I had a sword, I could at least—”

“You’d just make things worse. Don’t you trust me?”

Arina fell silent. Arguing would mean dismissing all Ian’s efforts to grow stronger for her sake.

But that wasn’t it. She knew exactly how skilled he was. That’s why she’d ventured into dungeons with him, trusted him with her back.

The difference now was how much he meant to her. She’d always cared, but not like this.

She couldn’t bear to see him in danger. The thought of him hurt—or worse—drove her mad with fear. He’d become that precious to her.

They glared, frustration and affection warring in their eyes.

“Uh, how long are you two gonna stand there?”

Millen, having single-handedly mopped up the rest, stared at them blearily.

—

Crackle. Crackle.

As dusk fell, the group prepared camp. Arina’s task, of course, was keeping the fire alive. Being stuck with such a menial job was insult enough, but Ian and Millen leaving her behind grated most.

Especially Millen’s smirk as they’d left—

After a lull, seeing them fight had seemingly reignited her teasing. And now, things she’d once ignored irritated her beyond reason.

“…Why?”

There was no reason for this. She’d return to being Riel Frost, and Ian would remain her friend. If he and Millen got together, she should be happy for them.

No—being left out always felt bad, right? Exclusion sucked, no matter the context. This wasn’t jealousy, just human nature.

Nodding to herself, she poked the fire with a stick.

How had she ended up like this? Barring her amnesia, it’d been ages since she’d done such chores. Back then, slaves handled the drudgery.

Speaking of—where had Lirit gone? The way he’d bolted at the first chance suggested he’d hated it here.

Not that she’d treated him well—overworked him, really. But to flee without a word…

“Tch. Staring at fire’s making me sentimental.”

Tossing the stick into the flames, Arina flopped onto her back. How long had it been since she’d been alone like this? Further back, she’d always been alone—but drunk enough to avoid introspection.

Alcohol. Nothing better to chase away useless thoughts. Just imagining it made her throat dry. No drinks until they reached the Demon Tower, though. With her magic sealed, venturing into towns alone wasn’t an option.

“Ughh—”

Withdrawal hit hard. She writhed on the ground like a fussy infant—but who cared? No one was watching.

“What’re you doing?”

A voice froze her stiff. Ian and Millen stood over her, the latter’s gaze icy.

“N-Nothing…!”

Her face burned as her voice shrank.

“Couldn’t even watch the fire?”

“I was resting! It’s fine!”

“Fine? That?”

Millen pointed. Where the campfire had been, only blackened embers remained.

“Huh? How—?”

“You didn’t add wood. We prepped it for you—why’d you ignore it?”

“But it was blazing earlier!”

“Because you burned all the kindling! Leaves and twigs are just starters!”

“Seriously?”

“Obviously! How’d you survive as a hero without knowing this?”

Back then, she could torch entire trees—why bother learning fire-building? Her party had handled survival skills. Her expertise lay in fighting the Demon Army.

“Wow. Guess we’re eating raw tonight.”

“Ugh…”

No excuses. Arina hung her head. Lately, she couldn’t do anything right. All because she couldn’t use magic. Was she really this useless without it?

As self-loathing crept in, Millen sighed.

“Fine. We’ll head into town.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a solution. We can’t camp forever.”

From her pocket, she produced a small vial.

“What’s that?”

“Dye. Thieves use it. Change your hair color and style, and people won’t recognize you.”

With her eyes already tinged lilac from the mana, it was perfect.