Stand up.
Start walking.
No matter how much he said he'd been healed, the aftereffects of that lightning strike were still devastating.
The magic power that had run wild through his body had left wounds too severe for even Sarah's magic to keep up with, and his entire body was wracked by an abnormal weariness and numbness. His senses had gone dull.
But it didn't matter.
He had decided to do this. He believed he could. If so, there was no reason anywhere to stop walking.
"—El!"
"Ermes... sir."
Noticing Ermes approaching, the two girls cried out.
At the same time, Kerberos, wary of the revived Ermes, temporarily halted its attack, and Katia and Sarah caught their breath.
—Surely it had been too much for just the two of them alone. Without that action from the other side, they would have been overwhelmed by the fierce assault at any moment.
With Ermes joining the fight here, they could at least even the odds for now. But there was no decisive blow—if that magic was unleashed again, defeat was certain. With the magic they had used so far, there was no path to victory.
So, he spoke.
"You two. I'm sorry, but... give me three more minutes."
"Wh—"
With the balance of battle on the verge of collapse, Ermes made a request that could only be called heartless.
Sarah's eyes went wide—but Katia, in contrast, remained composed.
"...Do you have magic that can defeat him?"
"
"I'll create it,
right now."
Even Katia showed a faint trace of surprise at that answer.
But she quickly composed herself.
She knew what his ultimate goal was—what he had spoken of at the Duke's estate, and where his true desire lay.
And so, straight-faced and earnest, with eyes brimming with absolute trust, she answered.
"Very well. I'll place my bet on you.
…Sarah, I'm sorry, but please hang in there just a little longer."
The words that followed, spoken with an air of concern, gave Sarah a moment's pause.
Her gaze drifted between Ermes and Katia… and there, perhaps, she sensed it—the bond between them, what the two of them had cultivated all this time.
"…Yes. I believe in you both."
And she nodded—with trust, and with an irrepressible sense of admiration.
The two turned to face forward, stepping toward Kerberos with even greater resolve than before.
Ermes, trusting that the two of them could endure it, took a few steps back, closed his eyes, and drew a breath.
Now, let's begin.
The true value of this magic—the reason it is called Creation Magic—here and now, he would unleash it.
Pouring his feelings into it, he began to chant.
"—Hear me, lend me your ear—for I shall now speak of the Twelve Mysteries!"
This magic is not Bloodline Magic. As such, there should be no need to seal away certain functions upon inheritance, the way Bloodline Magic does.
And yet, Rose had still sealed away this function—the true power of this magic—using the same method as Bloodline Magic, keeping it dormant in ordinary times.
Why was that?
It was because it was far too powerful.
So immensely powerful, so terrifyingly free, so overwhelmingly vast.
She realized that if she didn’t seal it away, anyone who acquired this magic would be broken the very instant they obtained it.
“[This is truth, not falsehood. It is certain and genuine.
Under the name of Tabula Smaragdina—]”
This was such a miracle, wrought from such noble intention.
From an age impossibly distant, perhaps what was now called the Age of the Gods.
It was surely the crystallization of a lifetime of effort, the very proof of living as a mage, wrought by those who were many times more gifted than they were, staking their entire existence.
A miracle so profound it was no wonder the people of the modern Kingdom mistook it for a gift bestowed by the gods.
To attempt the same feat was nothing short of reckless,
and she was mocked as such,
decried as arrogant—and perhaps it was only fitting that she was driven from the Royal Capital and branded a witch for it.
“[The sun is the father, the moon is the mother, the wind is
the swan
and the earth is
the wet-nurse
]”
But she did not give up.
She clawed, she scrabbled, and though she sometimes doubted what she had seen, she pressed onward, unwavering in the things that truly mattered.
Finally, she had grasped it — the true essence of magic, if only a sliver.
That magic was unfathomably deep, vast and sublime, yet it truly lay at the end of humanity's reach.
She was certain now. If so, then she herself should be able to do the same.
"[
The glory of all creation shall be gathered here; all ignorance shall be cast away there.
Through the cycle of transmigration and the turning of the wheel,
with our words let us bless
and celebrate!]"
And so the spell was completed — but in the very next moment, despair overtook her.
She understood at last. Bloodline Magic was no blessing — it was a curse. And what is more,
she herself was cursed three times over,
which meant she could never fully harness the very spell she had painstakingly created.
And so she searched — for someone who would inherit this magic, someone to become her disciple. Someone free of Bloodline Magic's curse, yet still possessed of magical talent.
Someone brimming with curiosity, unshackled by preconception, and honest — and above all, someone who loved magic with all their heart.
"[Born shall be a power surpassing all things, exceeding every refinement, piercing through all fortification.]"
And then — she found them.
A boy whose magic power was great enough to be called a prodigy, yet who lacked Bloodline Magic and was branded a failure — and still, he pressed onward, continuing to hone himself.
A boy who was the very embodiment of her ideal — earnest, strong, and endearing.
She fell in love at first sight. As they spent time together, her affection only deepened.
She doted on him with a devotion she never knew she was capable of — that of a thoroughly shameless parent.
She thought that with this child, it would be all right to let him inherit everything she was.
"[Contemplation — Separation — Integration — Adaptation — Completion at the end of dreams —
Aware —
knowing —
and so —
what remains are countless wishes]"
His only flaw was that his mental fortitude — so crucial when wielding magic — was weak.
This was an innate vulnerability, likely compounded by the harsh treatment he had received from his family.
With this weakness, he would surely never be able to draw out the true power of magic.
And so, after spending five years drilling the essentials into him, she decided to send him back to the Royal Capital.
She regretted that she had not been able to heal him… and, well, the thought of being separated from him was something she herself found absolutely, positively excruciating. She was all but certain she would spend at least a month soaking her pillow in tears every night.
Even so, she wanted to see where his magic would lead more than anything. She believed that watching him reach a place she herself could never arrive at would bring her the greatest joy.
In the end, she properly sent him off. …Her greatest masterpiece, given as her most precious gift.
"[
Thus
was the world created.
Infallible
truth is inscribed here —
without distinction between heaven or earth, for the sake of the one and only miracle.]"
It was a technique that should have existed in the distant past, in an era before magic even existed.
Analyzing the workings of the world, deciphering the principles that govern it—an audacious challenge, seeking to replicate the works of gods through the wisdom of man.
It was called alchemy.
Rose dared to turn it into magic.
To analyze, decipher, and reproduce magic—believed to be a product of the heavens—
Magic Alchemy
She poured her wish into the spell: that it would be one to achieve this.
The inscription left behind by a legendary alchemist, upon which twelve mysteries were etched. She took the name of the stone tablet—said to still exist somewhere in the world—and shaped it into words.
Therefore, the name inscribed upon this spell is—
"
Primal Inscription
" —
Magic Inscription Liberation
"
This spell is a Creation Magic.
Its usual ability is the analysis and reproduction of magic. And its ability upon liberation is, as the name implies, the—
creation
of magic.
Magic Inscription Liberation is performed through a multi-tiered Chant.
Normally, three tiers. Those who are exceptional can achieve four, and those of legendary power, five—but.
"
Primal Inscription
'] surpasses even that—an extraordinary seventh tier.
Before Ermes, who had completed the Chant, the emerald tablet shattered.
It became countless fragments of light, swirling around Ermes.
Every last one of them—a shard of magic.
Crystallized wisdom that composed the magic of this world. From this moment on, he would combine them all... and forge a spell to defeat that monster.
At last, the moment had arrived.
His true purpose in coming to the Royal Capital. The time to give form to the wish he had carried since childhood.
Everything he had cultivated until now, and everything he had gained here.
Every magic he had absorbed as seeds, every experience and piece of knowledge he had accumulated as water.
—He would make his own magic bloom.
With resolve, Ermes reached out.