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The biting cold finally receded.
Clutching a massive book against his slender arm, Renki stretched one hand into the air. The still-chilly breeze tickled his fingers before slipping away.
Perhaps due to the bright sunshine, people’s attire had become noticeably lighter. Outside of the shade, it was no longer particularly cold.
Emerging from the Akashandra Library, Renki gazed at the white buildings nestled below the hill.
The occasional vibrant blue roofs were so refreshing and cool to behold that, even though spring had only just begun, it felt strikingly like summer.
‘It’s just like Santorini,’ he mused. ‘Except it’s surrounded by forests, not the sea.’
Renki recalled something Hay had once said.
After uttering those words, Hay had hummed an indecipherable tune, ‘La-la-la.’ Renki remembered that even the same song would sound different each time Hay sang it.
Renki lowered his hand, humming the tune of unknown origin that Hay had sung, and walked along the path. He opened the thick book he had been cradling.
The book chronicled the history and evolution of magic, spanning from the era of the Ancient Magic Kingdom some eight millennia ago to the present day.
Despite the challenging content, he diligently re-read any passages he didn’t quite grasp, striving to fully comprehend them.
The sheer bulk of the book made his wrist ache as if it might snap off. After shifting its position several times, he eventually arrived at the base of a hill.
To reach Stan’s house, he would have to ascend to the summit of this very hill.
Both on Popenini Hill and here, it seemed Stan harbored a fondness for high places.
Ahead of him, a woman was slowly making her way up, burdened by three heavy shopping baskets. Her curly hair was tied up in a neat bun, and Renki recognized her.
Renki quickly strode to catch up with her.
“Noy Healer,”
At Renki’s call, Richen gasped for breath and turned around.
“Oh, hello.”
Her greeting was stiff. Not exactly sullen, but it reminded him of a catfish from Nudan. Renki offered a bright smile and a nod.
“It’s been a while. I believe this is the first time we’ve met since the clinic. Have you been to the market?”
“Yes. We ran out of food.”
“Those look heavy. Let me help you carry them.”
Renki swiftly tucked his book into his bag and extended his hand. Richen, however, pulled back the hand holding the baskets.
She had intended to refuse, but there was still a long way to go up the hill. Hesitantly, Richen offered him one of the baskets.
“Alright, thank you.”
Renki took two of the baskets from Richen’s grasp as if snatching them. Richen looked flustered.
“Just one would have been fine.”
“It’s alright. I’ve carried much heavier loads than this before.”
Renki smiled brightly and led the way.
“I didn’t realize you lived nearby, Noy Healer. Where is your home?”
In response to Renki’s question, Richen gestured with her chin towards a house visible further up the hill.
“It’s the house with the round chimney, over there.”
This hill had been carved and flattened from a mountainside, so houses were sparsely scattered. Finding the one Richen pointed to was not difficult.
“I’ve often seen children playing outside there. So you lived there all along.”
“Those would be my younger siblings. I heard you two are staying at Judge Demonic’s residence.”
“Yes, that’s right. But please, you can speak informally to me. There’s no need for honorifics.”
Richen looked reluctant, her expression somewhat sour, but then she nodded. She subtly shifted her gaze to Renki’s bag.
“That book is very thic— Yes. Did you borrow it from the library?”
“Ah, yes.”
“It’s a difficult book. I actually gave up on it halfway through.”
“Indeed. I heard it’s quite challenging, with many difficult terms. It seems hard to fully grasp after just one reading. Oh, and I heard that a Healer is a profession specialized in healing magic.”
“That’s right. After completing the third class, we mainly focus on general medicine and healing magic. Most of us don’t know offensive magic, which Guardians typically learn.”
“So, Noy Healer, you are a Third-Class Mage?”
“Yes. But I’m not proficient in anything other than healing magic. I only know the basics. And please, call me Richen.”
“Yes, Lady Richen.”
“Hmm, could you perhaps drop the honorifics?”
Richen said, furrowing her brow. She looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know how it is in the outside world, but here, there are no servants and no social classes. Everyone is equal. Not just me, but everyone would feel awkward and uncomfortable hearing such formal language.”
“I’ll try.”
Renki offered an awkward smile.
“Healing magic can be learned from the Third Class, right? There’s little knowledge about healing magic outside, so is there any way to study it on my own?”
“Healing magic involves specialized knowledge, so learning it on your own is practically impossible.”
“Is that so? What a shame. I wanted to learn it.”
“I’ve heard that outside, magic useful in combat or magical engineering is preferred over healing magic. Is there a specific reason you want to learn healing magic?”
“Because when my master gets hurt, I want to be able to heal him.”
“Ah.”
Richen nodded, as if understanding dawned upon her.
A silence followed.
In the interim, they arrived at Richen’s house. Richen placed her shopping baskets on the steps outside her home, then took the ones Renki was carrying and set them down as well.
“Thank you for your help.”
“Please go in.”
Renki bowed politely and turned to leave.
“Just a moment.”
Richen called out to Renki, stopping him. When he turned back, Richen bent down, rummaged through a basket, and handed him a loaf of bread.
“It’s cornbread. It’s delicious, with plenty of corn inside.”
Renki hesitated for a moment before accepting it.
Just then, the front door burst open. A boy and a girl, both younger than Renki, stood there.
“Sister’s here!”
“Huh? It’s the masked big brother from upstairs?”
Renki gave an awkward smile and waved his hand. Richen picked up one of the baskets and offered it.
“Did you finish cleaning?”
“Of course, we did!”
“It’s sparkling!”
“And smooth!”
The two children grunted as they each took a basket and went inside. Richen, holding the last one, turned back to Renki.
“I’ll enjoy the cornbread, Richen.”
Richen offered a slight smile, nodded in farewell, and then stepped inside.
Renki looked at the cornbread in his hand before turning to leave. Meanwhile, Richen removed her light coat and hung it on the rack by the entrance.
Through the window next to the front door, she watched Renki’s figure ascending the hill.
Richen recalled the first time she had seen him.
It was when she had gone to the treatment room, instructed by the director to assist with an emergency patient.
The moment she first saw Renki, Richen felt a sense of incongruity. She didn’t understand its nature at first.
He was slumped against the wall, clutching his head as if in agony. Richen had thought the boy was crying. But he wasn’t.
A red-haired man, clad in a Judge’s uniform, held the boy’s shoulders and spoke in a serious tone.
‘Renki, if by any chance Styles is in danger, I will transfer the Master’s Mark to myself. Then you’ll be safe.’
Just as she was about to enter the treatment room, Richen paused, listening intently to those words. The unfamiliar phrase, ‘Master’s Mark,’ had stopped her in her tracks.
‘The Master’s Mark can’t be transferred unless the master willingly gives it up, can it?’
‘Of course, but there is a way to transfer it.’
‘Please don’t. I’m not afraid of dying. I’m angry.’
‘Why are you angry?’
‘Because I’m weak. I can’t do anything for my master.’
Richen then realized the true nature of the incongruity she had felt when she saw the boy.
It was because the boy was a servant.
Having lived in a place without slavery, it felt bizarre, almost like witnessing an animal impersonating a human.
He was human, yet he didn’t seem human to her.
Richen turned her head and headed for the kitchen.
After putting away the groceries, she went to the living room, only to be aghast at the sight of her three younger siblings playing marbles.
“What are you doing?!”
Richen yelled, snatching the marbles from them. They weren’t just ordinary marbles; they were magic stones.
Her siblings, startled, timidly withdrew their hands. Richen, about to shout again, closed her mouth and swallowed her anger.
“I told you not to play with magic stones. Where did you get these from?”
The youngest, barely five years old, pointed upstairs with a finger.
“From Irish’s room.”
Irish was Richen’s half-sibling, only a year apart in age.
“Never play with anything that comes out of Irish’s room. It’s dangerous. Do you understand me?”
Her siblings made sullen faces.
Richen sighed, pulled a nearby box over, gathered the magic stones, and strode upstairs to the second floor.
She rapped sharply on the door, which bore a crooked nameplate reading ‘Irish.’ A moment later, a sleepy-eyed Irish opened the door with an annoyed expression.
“I haven’t even been asleep for two hours. Why are you waking me up again?”
“I told you not to bring things like this into the house, didn’t I? At least put them somewhere the kids can’t reach.”
Richen thrust the box at Irish, who was contorting her face in annoyance. Irish then looked bewildered.
“When did they take it out? I put it in the closet.”
“Please be more careful. They were playing marbles with them.”
“Those blasted brats!”
“It’s your fault. You have no right to get angry at the kids. More importantly, did you change the blankets?”
Irish grumbled in a sullen voice.
“I changed the kids’ ones and hung them in the backyard to dry.”
“When are you going to work?”
“What time is it now?”
“It’s eleven o’clock.”
“I have to leave by three at the latest. What about you, Sister? You said you’re on duty today, didn’t you?”
“I have to leave at seven. And I’m warning you: if I find things like this in the kids’ hands again, you’ll be kicked out of the house.”
Richen issued her threat and descended to the first floor. Behind her, Irish grumbled and slammed the door shut.
The younger siblings were now playing with dice toys. Richen glanced at the clock on the wall, finished tidying up the house, and then addressed her siblings.
“I’ve put away the food, so if you get hungry, help yourselves. I’m going to sleep now, so don’t disturb me. Understood?”
“Understood, Sister.”
“Good night, Sister!”
The youngest was too engrossed in play to respond. Richen cast a glance over her siblings, then massaged her stiff neck as she ascended to her room.
To be able to go to work in the evening, she needed to get some sleep immediately. At that moment, no one noticed a single magic stone tucked away inside the fireplace.
****
Jiwena Rerickton lunged with a punch. Hay twisted his body to evade the attack, then seized her wrist and jabbed her in the side with his fist.
Jiwena’s palm blocked the strike, but she couldn’t completely avoid the impact.
Hay immediately slapped Jiwena across the face and clamped down on her shoulder, pressing hard.
A short scream erupted from Jiwena’s lips. He intended to break her arm and exerted more force, but then a magic circle appeared on the floor.
Hay flinched, pushing Jiwena away and leaping backward.
The magic circle exploded with light, sending a shockwave towards Hay. The blinding flash forced Hay’s eyes shut for a moment.
When he squinted them open, he saw a shadow rapidly approaching.
Hay deployed his shield. However, before the shield could fully manifest, Jiwena struck Hay in the solar plexus with a fist, accompanied by a burst of earth.
“Gah!”
The partially formed shield lessened the blow, but it still knocked the wind out of him.
Jiwena’s eyes widened as she aimed for Hay’s head, who was bent over.
This time, he managed to create a
*Popopopop—*
Spears of earth erupted from the spot where she had been standing.
Hay gritted his teeth and extended his hand from bottom to top. A mound of earth then rose above where Jiwena had stopped, engulfing her and trapping her within a dome-shaped shield.
Almost simultaneously, a band of runes formed above the earthen mound. Before the dome could be destroyed, Hay swung his arm horizontally.
He intended to impale the dome with the
The arrow stopped just before it could pierce the dome. Immediately after, the dome burst apart as if exploding.
Jiwena, who had been forming a seal, ready to launch her next attack, clutched her face with both hands, dropped to her knees, and cried out.
“Ugh! I really wanted to win today, especially in front of the Judge!”
“You fought well, though.”
Hay rubbed his solar plexus, which Jiwena had struck, and approached her, extending a hand. Jiwena pouted, but took his hand and stood up.
“I thought I could win today.”
“I almost got sent to the afterlife with that blow to the solar plexus.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Of course.”
Jiwena grinned, her face still a little swollen.
As they walked towards the gathered onlookers, the Guardians who had been watching the sparring match were seriously analyzing and discussing the fight.
Hay let their voices wash over him and slumped down next to Stan, who was smoking a pipe.
“Water?”
Hay regulated his breathing, took the canteen Stan offered, and gulped down some water.
“You were trying to kill Guardian Rerickton, weren’t you?”
Stan asked quietly. Hay rolled his eyes and shrugged. Stan scoffed.
“You’re a terrifying bastard. You almost killed someone during a spar.”
“If it had been truly dangerous, you would have stopped it, so I trusted that and did my best.”
He subtly glanced at Jiwena, who was being comforted by her fellow Guardians. Just then, Illiyan approached.
“It’s still before lunchtime, would you like another round?”
“Will Guardian Salam be participating this time?”
Hay asked, but Illiyan shook his head and looked at Stan.
“Everyone wants to see Judge and Mr. Styles spar. What do you say? How about a match between the two of you this time?”
Hay’s eyes widened in surprise, and he turned to Stan. Stan also looked bewildered by the sudden suggestion.
“Him and me?”
“Stan and me?”
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