Chapter 6

The First Magic

Mion’s sudden resistance caught his enemies off guard — they couldn’t immediately resume their attack, and a tense stalemate followed.

One boy, one spirit.
Standing back to back, they waited for an opening to break through the encirclement.

The two subordinates eyed the boy’s every movement warily.

Meanwhile, the unshaven man — silent for a while — turned his gaze to Miona, who was clearly not of the human race.

“…That kid’s probably… a spirit.”

His eyes fixed on Miona’s pointed ears, and his brows drew together slightly.

By definition, spirits were even less welcome in Sylphus than sorcerers.

If a sorcerer appeared alongside a being of such distinctive, non-human appearance, it usually meant one of two things.

“You— you’re a user of special magic, Summon, aren’t you?”

“…Huh?”

— the magic that calls forth animals, monsters, or spirits.
A term familiar from many games.

However, the phrase special magic — that was something new to Mion.

“Miona, what’s special magic?”

“It’s magic outside the elemental types. There are many kinds, and some aren’t even recorded in old grimoires. You have to be careful with that category.”

After that simple explanation, sweat began to bead on Mion’s forehead.

In front of him, the unshaven man had already shifted into battle stance.
No complicated motions — just a single raised finger.

“…Tch.”

Sensing danger, Mion instinctively held his breath.
The next instant, his bad feeling came true.

A pale yellow aura burst from the man’s fingertip, spreading at a speed impossible to evade. Everything within range — the plants, the trees — withered the moment the light touched them. Even the brightness of the surroundings dimmed drastically.

It was as though all life had been drained from the air itself.

“Wh-what the hell?!”

The moment that energy pierced his body, a crushing pressure hit Mion again.

His whole body stiffened. His stamina plummeted. Standing became difficult.

“This again… it’s even stronger than before… damn it!”

“Heh. This is my .
Beautiful, isn’t it? Just the sort of scenery one should see right before dying.”

“What’s beautiful about that!?”

Mion shouted, mocking the man’s grotesque sense of aesthetics.

“Use a flashy spell like that, and if someone spots you, you’ll be in trouble yourself!”

“Hmph, not at all. The moment you stepped inside this barrier, your fate was sealed.
Here, you are utterly alone. Not even another mage could track you in my domain!”

— a spell that creates a field which weakens any designated targets and blocks signals and magical energy.

Whenever the unshaven man met a troublesome opponent, he always followed the same tactic: weaken first, then strike.

Earlier, Mion had somehow dispelled the weakening effect — that had been a small but worrying sign to him.

Now he had reinforced the spell’s strength, ensuring Mion and Miona both would suffer its full debilitation.

“Ugh… this is so unfair… what kind of assassin has cheat-level magic like this…?”

Realizing he couldn’t break free this time, Mion closed his eyes.

(Miona, can you use one more time?)
(Yes… but with the magic you have left, I can only do it once.)
(Once is plenty! Let’s go!)

“.”

In a whisper, Miona placed a hand on his shoulder and infused him with pure white light.

A chill sensation coursed through his body — and in just two seconds, his paralysis lifted.

But he held still, careful not to let the enemy notice.

(Looks like it’s my turn to use magic. Miona, how do I do it?)
(Simply put: feel your mana… then go “whoa!” and make it real!)
(…)

Her vague explanation made Mion half-close his eyes in disbelief.

(That’s it?! That’s not “simple” — it’s impossible! Can you explain it better?)
(You won’t know until you try! If you really are a mage, you’ll catch the feeling right away!)
(Terrible instructions… but whatever, I don’t have a choice. Let’s do this!)

The moment Mion steadied himself—

“Go! Eliminate the target!”

The unshaven man barked his order.

“Yes, sir!” his men replied, pulling folding knives from their pockets and charging.

Facing the three attackers, Mion clenched his fists, searching for that same mysterious sensation he’d felt at lunchtime.

Mana flow… mana flow…

Yes — when he had summoned Miona, he’d felt something special stirring inside him.

The lifeblood of all sorcerers — magical energy — now rose within him again, as if responding to his will.

“I can feel it… I can feel it!”

Eyes wide, Mion channeled the energy into his legs.

If it worked, it’d mark the start of a counterattack—
No, that was foolish bravado.

The right answer, just as he’d decided before, was: run.

“I’m good at running! With magic, I’m unstoppable!”

He grinned confidently.

“Sorry, assassins — looks like I can use magic tooooo—!!”

At that instant, the wind howled.

Mana exploded, blasting dust in a five-meter radius around him.

“What the hell?! He can still move?!”
“Tch!”

The two subordinates were thrown against the walls by the shockwave.

The unshaven man caught the blast with his arms but was still forced back.

“Heh… I did it… hahaha— I did it!”

Mion’s shout of joy echoed through the air.

The thrill wasn’t just from casting magic — it was the relief of finding a way out of certain death.

“So beautiful…”

As the smoke cleared, Miona couldn’t help but whisper in admiration.

Her gaze was fixed not on Mion himself, but on the crimson light shining from his back —
two vast, translucent wings of pure magical energy.

“These are… mine?”

Mion reached out and pinched one.
Soft, smooth — almost like touching both solid and liquid at once.

A pair of wings radiating fantastical brilliance.

“Tch…”

Dusting off his suit, the unshaven man finally dropped his sneer.

Now he had to take this seriously.

“Ridiculous. This brat’s using multiple forms of special magic. That’s… theoretically impossible. Unless…”

The only remaining possibility beyond a Summoner—

Scarlett.
A magic bloodline thought to have been wiped out five hundred years ago.

No survivors. No descendants.

And yet, here stood someone who wielded both a contract spirit and special magic —
a remnant of that lost clan.

“I see… so that’s how it is.”

He muttered, wiping the blood from his face as he picked up his knife.

Blue lightning coiled around the blade, fueled by nearly all his remaining mana.

Amid the swirl of emotions, a strange excitement flickered in his eyes.

“If I don’t finish this now, that kid’ll be a threat to the organization.
To think I’d get to kill a Scarlett myself… what an honor.”

Seeing his men regroup, the unshaven man pointed the blade at Mion and barked his last command:

“Bury him!”

“Yes, sir!!”

In an instant, tension snapped taut.

The two subordinates took position to his sides, gathering mana in their raised hands.

“!”
“!”

At once, the street was flooded in crimson and pale green light.
A fiery dragon and a raging whirlwind collided midair.

Since ancient times, fire and wind had both opposed and amplified each other — and so it was now.

The two magics merged, forming a towering pillar of fire.

The roaring inferno left a blackened trail as it tore toward the stunned boy.

“Whoa whoa whoa! They’re going all out?!”
“Mion, careful! Fly! Get out of the way!”
“But— but I can’t—!”

He tried to launch himself, shouting Fly! again and again in his head.

With barely seconds to react, he recalled everything he knew about flight—

But the result made his fingers tremble in horror.

Why… can’t I fly?!

The wings wouldn’t function.
What was the point of having them if they couldn’t carry him?

No matter how he struggled, the sky stayed painfully out of reach.

“What the hell do I do?! I can’t dodge this!”

Panic twisted his expression.

In that moment, only one desperate thought filled his heart:
Help me…

The next instant, a thunderous explosion consumed the area.

A full-powered magical blast — hot enough to reduce even the strongest body to ash.

And yet… at ground zero, Mion felt no burning.

Instead, a strangely gentle warmth brushed against him.

“Wha— what? I’m… okay?”

He cracked his eyes open fearfully.

Before him stood Miona, fiercely holding back the flames with a violent stream of wind — and his magical wings, spread like a shield, blocking the heat.

“It’s so hot…”
“Miona!”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine! Just focus! Keep your mana condensed, or the flames will break through!”
“What?!”

As she shouted, Mion heard a faint crackling sound.

The wings strained under the fire’s assault — and their resistance was far weaker than expected.

Within seconds, they began to melt, pieces breaking apart and dissolving into the air.

“Ugh… it’s so heavy…”

Sweat flew off his face as the shockwave battered him.

His arms lost strength.
Even with his endurance, he’d last maybe another minute.

“Mion, we can’t hold out! We’ll run out of mana soon!”
“I know! I want to escape too! But using magic’s way harder than I thought — even controlling the wings is tough! So—”

Schlick.

…Huh?

What was that sound…?

Right before the limit…?

Why…?

It happened too fast.

Mion didn’t understand what had occurred.

A shiver of dread crawled down his spine.

Not just cold — a chill that reached deep into his bones, spreading numbness through his body.

“—Ugh!”

His eyes widened, wet with pain.

Agony flooded his nerves, radiating from his abdomen.

The light faded from his gaze.

A silver blade protruded through his body, piercing both his torso and his wings.
The metallic stench of blood filled his nose.

“It… hurts… it really hurts…”

A pain worse than death — and yet he had no strength left to scream.

He fell to his knees.
The knife had run him through, damaging vital organs beyond repair.

Now he finally understood what it felt like — to die slowly, drifting toward the afterlife.

I want to scream… but… I can’t even do that…

His vision dimmed; Miona’s voice grew faint.

Schlick.

When the knife was pulled out, blood sprayed from his chest and back.

The world tilted sideways — or rather, he did, collapsing against the cold ground.

He’d focused too much on the enemy ahead, blind to the threat in his blind spot.

“Mion…”

Tears streamed down Miona’s cheeks.
Even with their contract, she couldn’t share his physical pain.

But she could see — his life was fading fast.

“Master… M-Master! No! Don’t die! You can’t die! I won’t let you—!”

Sobbing, she pressed her hands over his wound — but it was useless.

Not even a hundred could stop that much bleeding.

“….”

Mion’s dry lips trembled, unable to form a sound.

(So this is… game over…? Damn it…)

“Stop talking, Master… using telepathy will only make you die faster…”

The unshaven man watched coldly as the boy’s life ebbed away, lighting a cigarette like killing was just another routine.

“…Who even are you people?! Why kill someone who’s done nothing wrong?!
We just formed our contract today—!”

Miona’s scream shook with fury.

“For our ambition,” the man said. “And the dream of those who came before us.”

“What did you say?!”

Her rage only earned a shrug.

There was no need to strike her down.

When the master dies, the contracted spirit sleeps — until the next summoning.

“You had wings, but couldn’t fly.
How pathetic.”

His voice carried that vague contempt for life itself.

“Now sleep forever. You two should never have existed.”

As Mion’s consciousness faded, he turned his head sideways.

The sky was orange — the sunset bathed the city in cold light, making everything seem lonely.

It was truly… a twilight scene.

“Goodbye… little Scarlett.”

Those were the last words he heard — but something about them didn’t fit.

The next moment, he heard someone shout:

“Someone’s trying to breach the barrier!”

Then—

“Your end is here, villains.”

Heh, Mion thought weakly. “So you really do see crazy things before dying…”

If his eyes and ears weren’t deceiving him, that righteous voice belonged to a silver-haired girl.

She stood before the three enemies, battle-ready, wearing an expression of worry.

Who is she…?
She saved me…?
Why…?

…

Before he could find the answer, a sharp pain pierced his heart.

A flash of red filled his vision—
and Mion’s consciousness fell into darkness.