“You don’t have to cling to me so hard, you know?” ████████ laughed. “Trust me—I’m not going to let you fall.”

  Lilieth tried to open her eyes, and peering down, she saw the Salcaelite capital below her: a massive sprawling city of pure white. They were climbing one of the many tall spires that adorned Venatica, the grand capital. The stairway that spiraled around the tower had guardrails on it, but that didn’t make Lilieth feel any safer than if it didn’t. She found herself grabbing ████████’s arm and holding on for dear life.

  “We’re getting left behind by Olivier and the others, you know?”

  “I-I know,” Lilieth replied, closing her eyes again.

  “I can fly you up if you want. It’ll be fun!”

  “No! W-what if I fall?”

  She gave an amused laugh. “What are you so afraid of? I’m right here! You won’t fall, Lili. And even if you do, I’ll always be there to catch you.”

  Such kind words—reassuring even—that Lilieth knew were true. After all, ████████ had never lied. Not once. Not ever.

  And just like that, Lilieth felt like all the courage in the world was propping her up, and the height didn’t feel so daunting anymore.

  Noticing that the young mage’s breathing had gotten softer and her heartbeat slower, ████████ chuckled. “See? It’s not as scary as you think.”

  Lilieth opened her eyes and looked up at ████████’s face. A face that ...

  That ...

  What did her face look like again?

  Don’t remember.

  Lilieth held on for dear life as the wyvern rose into the air. It flailed about trying to pry the young mage off of itself. She didn’t dare let go. Rather, she kept trying to drive the stone sword deeper into the creature’s neck.

  She knew. She knew that she was rising higher and higher into the air, but she ignored the change in altitude. If she didn’t—if she looked below her and saw the drop—she would end up letting go of her sword in fear or pass out or some other mistake. So, she didn’t look down.

  “[Enhance Strength I]!”

  Lilieth chanted and felt power surge through her body almost instantly. It wasn’t a significant increase in strength, and she could feel it eating up her mana the longer she had it active. She couldn’t control how strong it made her, too. She had a very simple understanding of the spell, all things considered. But that was enough.

  With a scream more ferocious than she thought herself capable, Lilieth drove the stone blade deeper into the red wyvern’s neck until it pierced through to the other side. Blood sprayed everywhere; it probably looked like a small drizzle of crimson from below. Although her grip was steady on its hilt, the sword’s handle broke apart, leaving what remained of it still inside the beast’s body and Lilieth with only one hand left holding on. She tried with all her might to grab a scale with her freed hand, but the wyvern was thrashing and turning and roaring and—

  “Ah—!”

  Her tiny hand slipped, and she separated from the dying wyvern.

  Turning to the ground below her, Lilieth saw all of Artemest. It was a megalopoleis—a city built from cities—and she was high enough in the air to see all of it.

  Her stomach dropped.

  “B-Bediv—!”

  Before she could finish the chant, the wyvern’s flailing tail slammed into the side of her head. Everything went black.

  Sibei opened her eyes to see a wyvern rising upward and Lilieth getting dragged along with a hold on the beast. That idiot, she thought. Lilieth knew how to fly, so it was probably fine. Sibei stood up, her head aching like seven bitches at once, and tried to regain her bearings on the situation.

  Cynth was still unharmed, although she was staring worriedly at Lilieth taking off to the sky. Grits and his ... friend? Rival? She never bothered to learn his name, but the two of them were keeping most of the wyverns back.

  One of them roared, and Sibei instinctively shivered. A part of her still couldn’t forget that day—that accursed day when a wyvern almost killed her as a child. She remembered how it felt to stare death in the face for the first time, to feel every flimsy bravado crack under the weight of reality.

  That day, she ran. She, a member of a warrior family, ran away— even as those wyverns razed her home and everyone she loved.

  You’re too weak. You’ve always been too weak. Don’t get in our way.

  The words her brother left her—the very last she ever heard from him—stung in her heart yet again.

  “Sibei!” Cynth ran to approach her. She tiptoed to press a neat handkerchief against the side of the desert girl’s head in an attempt to stop the bleeding. “T-the weird girl! L-Lilibeth ... no, Lilieth! Lilieth, she—”

  “She’ll be fine,” Sibei replied. “Weapon ... hand me a weapon ...!”

  “Weapon? L-like what?”

  “A spear, a sword—anything! I just need to feel something in my hands!”

  Cynth nodded frantically, sweating enough to fill a small pond. “A-alright. Okay, alright, I-I’ll go find something ...”

  The little girl began looking around, Sibei standing guard for their little group, and eventually returned with a broken table leg. “Is this good? I-I can’t ... there was nothing else I could—”

  Sibei grabbed the table leg. “It’s good enough. Stand behind me.”

  Cynth turned and finally noticed that the mysterious woman was slowly approaching. Grits and his “friend” were too busy dealing with the wyverns. The woman had a small dagger in her hands, so Sibei took a stance and prepared herself for a fight.

  The woman shook her head, an almost disappointed expression on her face. “Oh, please. You look worse than me on a bad morning. Can’t even stand upright anymore, can you? Look—let’s not make things harder for either of us, alright? Your two friends over there are strong, I’ll admit. But you’re outnumbered, and they aren’t going to last much longer.”

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  She’s bluffing, Sibei immediately thought. She knows that the knights will arrive soon, and she’s trying to make me lower my guard. She’s a cautious one. Even in the state I’m in, she’s trying not to underestimate me.

  Sibei couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

  “Just take a rest, alright?” the woman said, a shallow smile on her lips. “I’ll make it quick for her, I promise.”

  “Fuck you,” Sibei spat out.

  The woman sighed. “Alright then—the hard way it is. [The Silence Between Heartbeats].”

  As soon as the desert girl realized that a spell was being cast, she rushed forward, swinging her table leg at the woman. As injured as she was, her body had been trained rigorously, and most people wouldn’t have had an easy time dodging any one of her attacks.

  And yet, the woman evaded, just narrowly dodging the strike. Sibei struck again and again. Each time, it missed by just a hair’s breadth. The woman was smiling through it all—a knowing, mocking jeer. She grabbed Sibei’s hand as it passed her and tilted her head.

  “What’s wrong? You’re moving so ... slow. Are you tired?”

  Sibei glared at her, realizing what was going on. The woman was reacting almost perfectly to Sibei’s quick attacks ... almost like she had all the time in the world to react.

  Time-manipulation ... no, that wasn’t it. Time-manipulation was something only Third tier Lunemages were capable of doing. The woman didn’t seem that strong. That meant ...

  “... Divinationmage,” Sibei said under her breath.

  Divination magic wasn’t always about simply “looking for things” or “making vague, unreliable prophecies”, as the stereotypes usually went. The woman wasn’t slowing down time. She was slowing down her own perception of time—making everything around her go at a snail’s pace and giving her as much time as she needed to react.

  The woman smiled. “Bingo.”

  She swung her dagger into Sibei’s stomach. The desert girl reacted sharply, grabbing hold of the woman’s hand before it could puncture too deep into her. Blood began to drip down, and Sibei was losing strength.

  She swung herself at the woman, trying to slam their heads together, but the woman simply shifted her own to the side. She laughed at Sibei. “That’s the best you can do?”

  “[Scissor].”

  A flicker of realization appeared on the woman’s face, but before she could react, Sibei planted a fierce headbutt straight into her skull, knocking her back several paces. The desert girl fell backwards to the ground.

  Scissor—a basic Counter spell, capable of interrupting another one. As with most spells, of course, it had its limitations: it only worked on a single spell at a time, it had a tiny range, and it could only stop spells within its own tier or one tier above. The worst thing about it was that it couldn’t be used again for a few hours after casting.

  But sometimes, that was all you needed it to do.

  The woman traced the underside of her nose, realizing it was bleeding. Then, she shot a glare at her opponent.

  “You little … !”

  She raised a hand and snapped her fingers. Two of the wyverns fighting the men diverted their attention, flew into the air, and landed on either side of her.

  “Marshmallow, Cupcake! We’re finishing this quickly!”

  Grits and his acquaintance were quick to act and rushed to get to Sibei and Cynth in time. The two wyverns, however, were already lunging towards them.

  When Sibei saw the beasts charge at her, she froze.

  Not again ...

  Not again … !

  She had no time to dodge.

  “—Apologies for being late!”

  A figure dropped down from the sky, bringing both wyverns’ heads to the ground with one swift motion. Their bodies collapsed to the cobble path, blood pouring from their severed necks. The figure stood up, a bifurcated blade in hand.

  “Valery!” Cynth called out, relief in her voice.

  Sibei couldn’t help but feel chagrined.

  Again—she had to be saved from a wyvern again. In that instance, she knew she could fight against them. After all the times Spearman made her fight wyverns on purpose, she would have definitely been able to keep herself together while fighting them.

  So, why could she never finish one herself? Why did she always let someone else take the kill? Even during training, Grits or Albus had to be the ones to deal the final blow—she always froze.

  Another figure landed beside Valery. It was that ominous-looking knight of his, clad head-to-toe in ornate armor: Kaltheus.

  The woman furrowed her brow at the sight of the two men, then waved her hand. “Everyone! Attack!”

  The remaining wyverns charged at them. But with Grits, Valery, Kaltheus, and … the other guy—whatever his name was—the beasts stood no chance. Not a single one could get through the four of them surrounding Cynth ... and the injured Sibei herself.

  She hated feeling useless. She hated not being able to do anything.

  Sibei’s eyes widened when she saw the woman escaping, using her wyverns as distraction. The desert girl got up, gripping the table leg. She had enough energy to give chase. At the very least, she could capture that woman, and—

  “Oh no!”

  Cynth’s voice. Sibei turned to her. The girl was staring above them. Sibei traced her gaze and saw that both Lilieth and a wyvern were falling, the latter with blood spewing out of its throat.

  The fact that Lilieth had actually managed to kill a wyvern pissed Sibei off, but something else was wrong.

  Why was Lilieth falling? She knew Sky magic. She could fly!

  It was only then that Sibei noticed a faint trail of blood coming from Lilieth as well. Did she black out? Or worse ...

  “...”

  It was fine. That girl was immortal. She would come back even if she splattered on the ground into fine paste.

  That’s why ...

  Lilieth opened her eyes, seeing the sky above her and feeling the wind rushing past her. A dead wyvern was falling by her side.

  Her senses immediately lit up, realizing what was going on. She had fallen unconscious and was plummeting to her death. Twisting and turning, she screamed at the sight of the ground below her rapidly approaching.

  “B-Bedivere!”

  She chanted. Nothing happened.

  “Wh … ? Bedivere! Bedivere!”

  She chanted again, then again, and again. Still, the spell didn’t work. Why? What was going on?

  Lilieth realized, instinctively, that something was wrong—so, so terribly wrong. Something was missing. Something that shouldn’t have been gone was gone.

  She knew the spell’s name. She knew that she was able to use it. But when she looked inside herself, there was a gaping void where it should have been.

  She forgot the spell.

  She couldn’t remember how to use it anymore.

  The ground grew ever closer, and the young mage knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. Maybe she could use Sculpt magic to soften the ground before she landed? No, she could never be that precise, and even an impact against soft clay would prove fatal at the height she was falling. Martial magic? No, the strength it gave her wouldn’t help her survive the fall either.

  Then, death was the only way. She would crash, die, and come back to life. And if she was running on limited resurrections, then, hopefully, she hadn’t run out of them yet.

  It would be painful—so irreparably painful. And no doubt, the other people there would see it happen. They’d ask questions. What would she do then? Tell everyone the full story? What was to say they’d even believe her—believe that the hero would ever do such a thing?

  She was scared.

  Of pain.

  Of death.

  Of being betrayed.

  Of being questioned.

  Of being looked at.

  Of being weak.

  Of living.

  In the moments before her death, she was scared of everything.

  What are you so afraid of?

  A voice— a ... somewhat familiar voice.

  You won’t fall, Lili.

  A voice she cherished. A voice she loved...

  And even if you do—

  … A voice she must never remember.

  —I’ll always be there to catch you.

  Just as Lilieth was about to hit the ground, she was seized mid-fall by a figure jumping off a nearby rooftop, pulling her tight against their chest. The figure twisted, shielding her with their body as they crashed onto the flat garden roof, rolling and tumbling over a flowerbed.

  Lilieth’s entire body hurt. Her head was throbbing with immense pain, and she could feel that several of her bones were broken. But she was alive. Her eyes focused, registering the person that was on top of her. Tanned skin, bright orange hair—half her face was covered in blood.

  “S-Sibeiya … ?” Lilieth croaked out.

  The desert girl pushed herself slightly higher with unsteady arms. She didn’t answer—perhaps she couldn’t. She was frozen. Eventually, Sibeiya pushed herself off of Lilieth and laid on her back.

  “Yeah,” she rasped, swallowing hard. “It’s me.”

  Lilieth tried to move, but the attempt sent a hot spike of pain up her side. Her breath hitched, and she remained on the ground next to Sibeiya.

  “Why … ?” Lilieth asked. “You know I’m—”

  “Don’t ask,” Sibeiya replied. “Don’t talk. Head hurts. Just ... keep yourself awake. If you pass out before me, I’m killing you.”

  Lilieth sighed. Her vision was getting hazy. “What about ... is everyone … ?”

  “I said stop talking, yeah?”

  Lilieth obliged, taking the time to breathe. A moment of silence passed between them.

  “... Everyone’s fine,” Sibeiya suddenly spoke.

  “I thought you said to stop talking.”

  “Just you. Not me. Gods, my head hurts ...”

  “... Then stop talking. Dung beetle.”

  “You’re bad at insults. Stop it.”

  After some time, Grits and the others found them and sent them off to Niko.

  It seemed like the danger had passed in the meantime, at least. And that was all that mattered.