"...Damn it."
The Frenbreed estate, in the midward of the Royal Capital.
Once a house of considerable splendor, it now stood nearly devoid of any human presence.
The reason was simple: just days ago, the head of the household, Zenos von Frenbreed, had been arrested and thrown in prison after a slew of charges came to light—embezzlement, illegal trade, frame-ups, and more.
Needless to say, the family was being dismantled. This lavish mansion would sooner or later become the residence or vacation home of some other noble family.
In this noble estate—no, this estate that had already been driven face-first into the ground—the voice of the former head's son, Chris von Frenbreed, echoed.
"It's no good... I can't understand any of it..."
He stared intently at the jade-green text panel he had summoned before him, at the bewildering array of complex, varied characters inscribed across its surface.
And yet, even as he said so, he gritted his teeth in frustration and slumped where he stood.
Normally, he shouldn't have had time for this sort of thing.
He probably wouldn't end up arrested like Zenos, but that didn't mean he'd escape unscathed either. He was, after all, the son of a disgraced family. No matter how modest his magical ability, that label weighed far too heavily.
His best prospects were probably becoming a servant in some household, or being taken in as an adopted son by a low-ranking family desperate for an heir.
He should have been scrambling to pick the least terrible option from an already dismal set of choices.
But...
For Chris, none of that mattered anymore.
He remembered. The person who had once been his brother.
Growing up, Chris had tormented him out of inferiority, and in the end, had him cast out of the family.
Yet five years later, the boy had returned as a formidable mage, standing before Chris once more.
His magical power, his obsession with magic—every aspect of him was on an entirely different level.
Strong, beautiful, and hateful—the brother he once knew.
And the magic that brother had wielded was now in his hands.
He had said it—this magic was something anyone could use. So long as one had the will and the perseverance to learn, and was willing to put in the effort, it could be reached by anyone.
So Chris had wanted to try.
If he did, he thought, maybe he could finally understand the heart of that person—the brother whose thoughts he had never been able to read in childhood, the one who had frightened him.
And more simply, he had intuited that if he backed down again here, he would spend the rest of his life cowering before something.
That was why Chris had begun studying this magic—the Primal Inscription.
But.
"Da—mn it."
He spat out another curse as he collapsed to the ground.
He understood nothing.
Through repeated observation, he had at least managed to grasp things like "this section probably corresponds to this magical effect."
But beyond that, he couldn't make any further progress. What was actually written, what kind of effect those words would produce—he couldn't understand any of it.
In this state, he would never catch up to the landscape that person saw. Not even the faintest foothold was in sight—
"No."
Chris cut off his own thoughts.
It wasn't true that he had no foothold at all. In fact, quite the opposite... the very thing he would want most in this situation was lying right at his feet.
He looked down.
What he found was a small package, just large enough to hold in both hands. Judging by its shape and weight, the contents were likely books.
No—he didn't even need to guess what was inside.
Because on the surface of the package, in his former brother's handwriting, were the words: "These are textbooks."
And beneath that, in strikingly polite language: "Please feel free to use them if you wish. If you don't need them, I would be grateful if you could find it in yourself to send them back."
"...Give me a break...!"
That was his first thought.
The very person who had crushed him—who had beaten him down and driven him to despair—was now extending a hand. Did he think he could look down on Chris and mock him? That was what Chris had thought.
—or rather, that was what he still thought.
"...Forget it."
The package was useful to him in his current state, so he had kept it close—but that was as far as it went.
He wouldn't read it. Tossing it away, though, would expose the smallness of his character, and that grated on him.
Fine, then. He'd do as that person wished and send it back later. Having made up his mind, he moved to set the package aside carelessly—
"Oh? You're not going to read it? What a waste."
A voice that came out of nowhere stopped him cold.
"Wh—"
He spun around as if spring-loaded.
A figure had appeared who knew when, draped in a deep hood. From the silhouette and the voice, she was probably a woman not much different in age from himself.
Unfazed by his shock, the mysterious woman continued.
"Just so you know, that magic is incredibly difficult to master on your own? A genius of once-in-several-generations caliber, using a rather unusual method, spent a long time and only barely managed to grasp the fundamental theory. For an ordinary noble, even a lifetime of self-study wouldn't be enough—"
"W-Who—who are you?!"
But her words didn't register. Chris could only shout, confused and tinged with fear.
"What gives you the right to just waltz in here and start running your mouth?! Who even are you—an outsider, someone with no stake in this, sticking your nose in—"
"Oh, I do have a stake in it."
This time, it was her turn to cut him off.
And then she delivered a fact that, to him, was nothing short of a thunderbolt.
"Because I'm the one who wrote the contents of that package you were just about to toss aside."
"—Huh?"
"I got asked at the end of the day today, actually. My dear disciple asked me to check on him if I had the time."
As more information came, a few pieces clicked into place in Chris's mind.
He had known in fragments that his brother had someone like a mentor. Then there was the matter of the contents—her claim to have written the textbooks.
And the atmosphere that told him she wasn't lying, and above all, the immense magic power radiating from her.
All of it allowed Chris to predict with alarming accuracy who this woman before him truly was.
...But that was all the more reason he couldn't let his guard down.
"...What are you here for...!"
Hostility plain on his face, Chris groaned.
"Did you and your disciple both come here to mock me?! Leave me alone—I decided I was going to face this magic by myself!"
"..."
"There's no point unless I do it alone! I don't need to borrow your strength! Just because we use the same magic doesn't mean we share some kind of bond—!"
"...Well, I don't dislike that spirit, at least."
At Chris's outburst, the woman murmured in a slightly more serious tone.
"Hey, Chris."
"!?"
In the blink of an eye—at a speed he couldn't even react to—the woman appeared right in front of him.
"—There are places where you shouldn't make the mistake of being stubborn."
She lightly tapped her index finger against his chest and spoke.
He caught his breath.
From the pressure she exuded. And from the beautiful yet fearsome blue gaze that peeked faintly through her hood.
"Chris. What are you thinking when you use that magic?"
"...To know the landscape he sees. To find out how close I can get to him with my own power."
"That doesn't contradict borrowing the wisdom of those who came before. He learned the same way—by looking at the same things."
As if being guided, Chris laid bare his true feelings—and an incisive answer came back immediately.
"If you hold a clear wish, then don't pile anything unnecessary on top of it. Be greedy. Purify your intentions. You can hold on to as much as you need—but cut away everything you don't. That is how you define the shape of your heart."
"..."
"Only those who accomplish that are worthy of becoming mages."
The words carried a weight to them, somewhere deep.
It was the kind of weight that could only come from someone who had lived those words, practiced them, felt them firsthand.
He caught his breath again. At the same time, the pressure from the woman before him dissipated as she backed away.
"—Well, that's all I wanted to say. The rest is up to you. Use it, return it, throw it away—do as you please. Neither he nor I will be angry."
And then, with a light, almost whimsical air that made all her previous presence seem like a lie, the woman waved her hand casually.
Just as she had arrived—vanishing in an instant, gone before he knew it.
"............"
And yet, the impact of that brief encounter on him was immeasurably vast.
Chris looked down at his hands once more.
Don't make the mistake of being stubborn in the wrong places. He learned the same way, by looking at the same things. Every word she spoke, and that aura behind her that reminded him somehow of that same person...
Shifted the shape of his heart, ever so slightly.
"—Damn it!"
Chris gripped the package in his hands tightly once more—
—and broke the seal.
With a force that screamed *I'll show you*, he cast aside everything he had been clinging to until now.
He pulled several books from inside and began reading through them with a look in his eyes that could only be described as murderous.
...And, to his immense chagrin.
That day, his understanding of magic advanced so far that he wondered what all his previous struggles had even been about.
◆
"Well, I think that should be enough."
Seeing Chris break open the package and begin reading through the Creation Magic texts she had written...
The woman—Rose—turned her back on the Frenbreed estate.
"Huh. He might actually have some potential after all."
Honestly, at first, she had come mostly out of obligation—her disciple had asked, and she couldn't very well refuse.
But despite that lukewarm motivation, she had just witnessed something surprisingly promising.
"I suppose he really is Ermes's big brother after all. Maybe—just a little—I've found something to look forward to."
She walked for a while, murmuring to herself, until she reached the top of a small hill on the outskirts. From there, she gazed down at the Royal Capital—the place where she had once lived.
She had always hated this place.
A den of hopeless people who pretended to praise excellence while ruthlessly excluding anything too far above them. A dead end of privilege, crawling with the morally corrupt.
Everyone but the two friends she had trusted could burn and disappear for all she cared. More than once, she had seriously considered making that happen herself.
...But.
Things were different now. Or rather, they were starting to change—slowly, in small ways.
Thanks to the efforts of her violet-haired friend, who unlike her had refused to run away, things were beginning to shift.
And if the key to that change was her own disciple—then that was something to be glad about.
With a clear, light feeling in her heart, and a sense that this was enough for now, she began to sing.
["I define wings—unyoke the yoke of wisdom upon the invisible giant, and release it unto the ends of the world."]
That was her namesake. The magic that was one of the reasons she was feared—the magic that carried her alone into a domain permitted to no one else.
"Bloodline Magic—Seamless Great Eagle."
The moment she called its name, her body gently rose into the air.
There were no witnesses, and it was unlikely to cause a commotion. All that remained was to lazily travel through the sky and return to her home.
...Honestly, she used to hate using this magic too.
Because it forced her to realize the truth: no one could catch up to her. No one would ever come to where she was.
But now.
She knew, at the very least, one person who could reach the same place. Someone who had decided to reach it. Someone who was beginning to take the first step toward it.
So she was no longer lonely.
And so she stood, with the crystal-clear blue sky spread out behind her, her arms thrown wide open.
She wore a smile so beautiful and charming it could captivate every soul in the Royal Capital.
"—I'm waiting for you! My brilliant, precious fellow mages!"
Carrying all her feelings with that shout, the Solitary Witch—thinking of the day she would be solitary no longer—took flight into the distant sky.