episode_0005

After Arina released her, the woman hastily left the spot. If her location were discovered, she would be in danger—yet Arina took no measures to prevent this. Noticing this, Ian voiced his concern.

“Are you really fine with just letting her go? That woman just now was…”

“Probably someone sent by the Porter.”

Arina responded indifferently, as though it were nothing. She had anticipated something like this would happen someday and had already steeled herself for it. Still, seeing Ian’s face twist with more worry than her own, she let out a quiet laugh.

“No need to worry. If he hadn’t come looking for me, I was planning to go find him myself anyway. Now that I’ve found the Philosopher’s Stone, it’s time to put an end to this wretched feud.”

Letting the woman go was part of Arina’s plan. Killing her would only serve as proof that Arina had been there—her location being exposed was inevitable. So instead, Arina decided to use her.

Visual Synchronization Magic—that was the spell Arina had cast on the woman when she subdued her. It was a magic spell that allowed her to share the target’s vision, giving her the means to track down the hunters directly. This particular spell had been modified to spread like a plague, transferring to anyone the woman came into physical contact with. If all went well, Arina could monitor the movements of the entire pursuit squad.

“Though if any of them are particularly adept at sensing mana, they might detect the spell before it spreads too far.”

Arina explained the plan to reassure Ian, but his expression remained grim.

“I don’t think that’s enough. I know you’re strong. But there’s no way you can take down an unknown number of enemies alone—especially when the ones hunting you are the Hero’s Party.”

“Yeah, exactly. The Hero’s Party. An enemy I’ve fought—and lost to—before.”

Clenching her fists, Arina recalled the humiliating defeat she had suffered in the past.

“That’s why I’ve spent all this time preparing to beat them. I scoured dungeons just to find the Philosopher’s Stone. Thankfully, it wasn’t too late.”

Arina’s discovery of the Philosopher’s Stone and her being found out happened almost simultaneously. From now on, it was a race against time.

“I doubt there’s room for farewells. We need to leave right now.”

“It’s too dangerous for you to go alone. I’m coming with you.”

Arina leveled him with her signature icy glare, but this time, Ian didn’t back down. Meeting her gaze, he stood firm in his resolve.

Even if this earned him her hatred, it was still better than standing by as Arina destroyed herself. When Ian remained unflinching, Arina instead averted her eyes and spoke.

“Make some sense. If the lord abandons his territory, who will take care of the village?”

“The territory has my father, and there are others who can support him in my absence.”

But Arina had no one. No matter what she said, Ian was determined to follow her. Whether she raged at him or turned cold, he would not relent.

Yet when their eyes locked again, Arina’s face held neither anger nor frigidity.

Instead, there was sorrow—an expression Ian would never have imagined her capable of making. Stunned, he began to ramble in a panic.

“I-I don’t intend to be deadweight. If things turn dangerous, you can use me as bait and run. I just…”

I just want to be of help to you.

He couldn’t finish. Deep down, he knew that sentiment was the farthest thing from what Arina wanted.

“Please, Ian. I don’t want to lose anything else.”

He had meant to hold strong till the end, but those words silenced him.

Arina’s habit of distancing herself from men who harbored romantic feelings for her wasn’t due to misandry alone—it stemmed from the fear of losing someone precious.

The deeper the wound, the more she craved affection. Yet she adamantly refused to form meaningful connections—because she feared losing them again. To her, words like “If I hold you back, abandon me” would only hurt more.

Forced to face her plea, Ian couldn’t bring himself to insist on staying by her side.

“The Porter took everything from me. If you become someone I rely on… he won’t spare you either.”

“……”

“If I fail, I alone will pay the price. But if I lose someone else in the process… I won’t be able to endure it. I’ve already lost myself as Riel Frost. If Arina is destroyed too… That will be the true end of me.”

No more words escaped inside the dungeon. In silence, they left. After quickly purchasing preserved rations and supplies, Arina immediately headed out of the village. Only one person—once a companion—came to see her off.

This was not the kind of farewell where smiles could be exchanged. Both wore bitter expressions.

I didn’t expect it would end like this.

Arina forced a smile as she spoke her goodbye.

“Take care. If things go well… I’ll come see you again.”

What went unsaid was that if she didn’t return, something must have gone wrong—and that he should forget about her quickly. Before Ian could find the right words, Arina turned away.

As he stood frozen, helplessly watching her retreating figure, a voice he never expected abruptly intervened.

“Oh? Leaving already?”

Utterly disregarding the solemn atmosphere, the owner of that voice hugged Ian from behind. He let out an exasperated sigh at the overly familiar gesture—one completely devoid of restraint. Recognizing the voice, Arina frowned but didn’t turn around.

“Millen.”

She had no desire to see her face.

“Aww, too bad~ So that means Ian’s mine now, right?”

Millen’s words dripped with rivalry and possessiveness, even in this situation. It nearly made Arina laugh. Since she wasn’t looking at her directly, her usual disgust wasn’t as intense. At least she could keep her tone civil.

“Do what you want. I’ll pray for your happiness.”

“Huh?”

Stunned by the softer tone—uncharacteristic of Arina—Millen blinked. Though the exchange bypassed Ian’s input, it was the first time they’d ever agreed on anything. For once, the air between them wasn’t charged with hostility.

“This might be pointless, but I’ll say it anyway. If you ever see a pale-skinned man with black hair and a straight scar on his left eyelid… hide.”

Ian immediately recognized it as a description of the Porter, but Millen, lacking context, tilted her head in confusion. Not that Arina cared—the warning wasn’t for her.

“Why should I?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation. Just do it unless you want your life ruined.”

With that, Arina finally left the village for good.

Through the vision-sharing spell, she confirmed the woman had gone north—so she took the opposite path, heading south.

—

The world was currently embroiled in war against the Demon King’s armies. Nations had chosen champions to form the Hero’s Party to slay the Demon King—but with that party now corrupt, the war showed no signs of improving.

Outside villages, encounters with demonic beasts and monster attacks were common—whether heard of or experienced firsthand. Resting under the shade of a tree, Arina spotted yet another group of merchants under siege.

Merchants usually hired adventurers as escorts, but this group had clearly skimped on quality. The incompetent hires fled, leaving the helpless merchants stranded.

This was a sight she had grown numb to during her time on the frontlines with the Hero’s Party. Exhaling in exasperation at the all-too-familiar scene, Arina rose and leveled her staff at the monsters.

A swift spell reduced the encircling orcs to ashes.

“Are you all right?”

With an uncharacteristically warm expression, she approached the trembling survivors. Among them were women, but Arina masked her usual discomfort.

As Riel Frost of the Hero’s Party, helping others had been second nature. But Arina did nothing out of pure goodwill. In fact, she’d deliberately waited until the last moment to intervene.

Unaware of this, the merchants’ representative bowed deeply in gratitude.

“Thank you for saving us. If it’s not too presumptuous, we’d like to repay you somehow.”

A friendly smile masked the greed in his eyes—a look Arina knew all too well. Merchants loved cultivating ties with unknown but powerful adventurers. The logic was simple: treat them well now, and they’d return the favor later.

During her time with the Hero’s Party, deals like this had sickened her. Now that she had what she needed, she had no reason to linger.

“No need. Just remember the name Arina.”

With that, she disappeared down the path the merchants had come from. Their memories would firmly etch the image of the mage who saved them. She had repeated this act multiple times already with other travelers.

This should be enough.

Once the merchants were out of sight, Arina removed and burned her robe and hat. Whittling down branches into a makeshift scabbard, she sheathed the dagger she bought earlier.

Then, she pried the magic stone from her staff. Though invaluable for amplifying spells, its mana emissions could be detected. While she could suppress her own mana, concealing the stone’s presence all day was nearly impossible.

The staff was a formidable weapon, but right now, it was little more than a beacon for her enemies. With a decisive flick, she hurled the stone into the river.

Tying back her hair and covering it with a hood, she erased all traces of the silver-haired mage.

The blue-eyed Arina had left for the south—or so she wanted people to believe. After cementing that lie, she turned north.

—

After Arina’s departure, Felix Territory enjoyed unparalleled peace—thanks largely to the two adventurers who had neatly resolved its troubles. But while the village reveled in celebration, one of its heroes sat alone, nursing his drink in dull silence.

“Ian.”

Many women frequented the tavern just to catch a glimpse of him, but none dared approach him now—save one.

Though the other women scorned her as clueless, she proved them wrong. Millen clung to Ian but never crossed the line. Growing up among thieves had sharpened her instincts—she knew when to draw near and when to pull back.

That was why she was the only one who could share stories about Arina—much to Ian’s dismay.

“What is it?”

“I think that person is here.”

“Arina?”

For a fleeting second, light returned to Ian’s eyes—before fading just as quickly. Millen never referred to Arina by name, always calling her that woman. So who else could she mean?

“That Porter guy. The one Arina warned us about.”