[Possible Spacetimes] List

Clematis took a thin folder from the inner pocket of his black priest's robe.

He opened it and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. The paper was common, cheap writing paper with a rough texture.

"Now that Commander Levi has officially assumed his post," he began, his voice steady and clear, with the clarity often found in a priest's sermon, "I have compiled a list of names for this mission. One for each person."

He raised his eyes and his gaze swept over the crowd in the open space.

"Same as before. Easy to understand, even children can comprehend it. Make sure to remember it well."

He handed the paper in his hand to Iris, who was closest to him.

Iris took the paper, unfolded it, and looked at it. Names were listed in clear handwriting, accompanied by lengthy descriptions and characteristics, even a distinctive portrait. She gave her usual sweet and harmless smile and handed the paper to Lutine beside her.

He said our comprehension skills are like a child's.

Lutine didn't reply. She lowered her head, her long bangs almost completely obscuring her eyes, and silently took the list. Her gaze swept quickly across the paper, her face expressionless, except for a slight downward pursing of her lips, revealing a hint of melancholy.

Clematis watched her take the papers and continue distributing them, his movements unhurried, ensuring each one reached the right person.

"You're welcome, Iris," he said as he sent the message, his tone as natural as if they were chatting casually. "Doing this kind of work also helps me prepare teaching materials for the orphanage."

Schritt leaned against the tree trunk and took her own copy. She didn't look at it immediately; instead, she held the paper between two fingers, picked up the metal flask at her feet with her other hand, unscrewed it, and took a swig. As the liquor slid down her throat, she squinted.

Wolf took the paper and unfolded it. He examined it carefully, his gaze lingering on the portraits for a few seconds before folding it and tucking it into the inside pocket of his uniform. When he lowered his hand, it naturally rested on the longbow wrapped in cloth in his lap.

Lore kept her eyes closed, her hands still clasped in front of her. Clematis gently placed her copy on the back of her clasped hands. The edge of the paper touched her skin, and her eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly. She didn't open her eyes or move.

Gazella sat cross-legged on the ground. The paper was handed to him. He glanced at it, picked it up with his greasy fingers, and casually stuffed it into the ground next to his buttocks, weighing one corner down with a small pebble. Then he continued to fiddle with his little gadget.

Varos lay on his side, not getting up. Clematis walked over and placed the paper on the ground beside him. Varos lifted his eyelids slightly, his gaze sweeping over the paper before falling back down. He stretched out his dirty fingers and moved the paper closer, reading it from his side-lying position.

The open space fell silent. Only the sound of the wind and the occasional rustling of papers could be heard.

Everyone received a list.

Schritt put down the wine jug and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. She unfolded the folded paper and held it up to her eyes, her gaze moving quickly from top to bottom.

"In short," she began, her voice slightly loosened by alcohol, but every word clear, "Our mission is to distract and eliminate her guards during the assassination of Serie."

After she finished speaking, she casually stuffed the paper into her belt.

Lutine was still looking down at the list in her hand. Her gaze moved slowly across the paper, finally settling on a few lines of text.

"There are seven guards." Her voice was low and her tone flat, as if she were reciting some kind of boring document.

She raised her eyes, her gaze unfocused as she stared at the distant tree trunks.

"... The hero's party's mage, Frieren, and the First-Class Mage, Sense... are both formidable enemies."

Varos remained lying on his side, his gaze fixed on a name on the list. He stared at it for a few seconds, his lips moved, uttering indistinct syllables.

"... Frieren."

Wolf turned to look at him.

Do you know her?

Varos didn't answer immediately. He reached out and fumbled for another flat flask beside him—different from Schritt's, older and dirtier. He unscrewed it and took a swig. The smell of cheap ale wafted through the air.

"No." He put down the wine jug and wiped his mouth with his dirty sleeve. "I only saw her name on a list of some projects that were halfway through."

His eyes were fixed on the void, as if he were looking into a very distant place.

"That was during the chaotic period of vying for the throne from the previous emperor. Commanders changed frequently. Those plans that were halfway through... vanished into thin air."

He remained silent for a few seconds.

"... It was just a recollection of the past."

Wolf nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

Varos took another sip. He hugged the flask to his chest, curled up on the ground to make himself more comfortable.

"Don't ask too many questions." His voice lowered, slurred with alcohol, "A good man needs a few secrets."

Gazella dusted off his hands and looked up.

"I just saw Frieren and Redhead this morning; they happened to be buying something from my shop."

He grinned, revealing a slightly sly smile.

"Haha. Luckily, I saw them before I saw the list. Otherwise, I would have been executed for deserting in the face of battle."

Iris rested her chin on her hands, tilting her head to look at him, looking adorable. Her big eyes were wide open, filled with innocent curiosity.

"Hey, are they really that strong?"

Gazella's smile faded slightly. He scratched the tangled hair at the back of his head.

"If I were to intervene..." He clicked his tongue, "I'm no longer here. That redhead was quite troublesome."

He looked at Wolf, then glanced at Iris.

"Without you, or Wolf, I have no chance of winning at all."

Hearing this, Schritt, leaning against the tree trunk, laughed. She picked up the flask and took another sip.

"So—" she drawled, her green eyes gleaming with amusement in the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees, "If either of them is around, you have a chance. Right?"

Gazella slumped slightly. He lowered his head and continued fiddling with a few pebbles on the ground, arranging them in a row.

"Hey," he said listlessly, his voice muffled, "The problem isn't with us."

He flicked a pebble away with his finger. The pebble rolled into the grass and disappeared.

"For us, this is our job. We're also prepared to die for our mission..."

He stopped what he was doing, looked up, and his gaze swept over everyone in the open space. Finally, he looked at Schritt.

"But the problem is Serie," he said, his voice clearer than before, "A mage who has existed since the age of mythology. That Lord Levi..."

He gave a slight smirk.

"Can this monster really be dealt with? I don't want to die because of someone else's daydream."

Schritt didn't speak. She put down the wine jug, reached into her bosom, rummaged around for a moment, and pulled out something.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the object toward Gazella.

The object traced an arc in the air. Gazella instinctively reached out and caught it. It was cold and heavy to the touch.

He looked down.

A metal pendant lay in my palm, well-preserved. Its shape resembled two outstretched wings, exquisitely crafted and exuding a sense of antiquity.

Gazella frowned.

"This..."

Schritt crossed her arms, leaned against the tree trunk, and smiled.

"The master left it with me," she said. "Before seeing this thing... I couldn't believe it either."

Gazella didn't reply. He held the ornament up to his eyes, his fingers tracing the patterns on the wings. It felt cool to the touch, and the surface had a subtle, lingering, magical roughness.

He stared at it for a long time.

The woods were quiet. The wind had stopped. Only the faint calls of birds in the distance and Gazella's increasingly heavy breathing could be heard.

He raised his eyes and looked at Schritt. The nonchalance on his face vanished, and his gaze darkened.

"... The Proof of the Holy Staff?"

Schritt nodded. The smile remained on her face, but her eyes were very serious.

"You swindler who usually cheats magicians, you probably already know whose stuff this is, right?"

Gazella didn't answer immediately. He looked down at the pendant in his palm again, then slowly closed his hand and clenched it.

"... The Great Mage Minusi."

"Yes," Schritt said, "Twenty years ago, Minusi, the 'rebellious witch' who brought endless war to the Southern Lands, was defeated by an unknown warrior in a small border country."

Gazella remained silent.

"The version I heard was that they both perished. That warrior... could it really be Levi?"

Even so, one of the three surviving Great Mage has indeed disappeared from this world. He was killed.

She paused, letting her words sink into the silent woods.

"This fact will not change."

Gazella didn't speak. He lowered his head, looking at the pendant in his hand. He looked at it for a long time, and then very slowly, he clenched it into his palm.

Schritt's voice rang out again, calm and clear.

"In the world of magic, the unimaginable can never be realized."

She raised her eyes and gazed into the depths of the woods. Her gaze seemed to pierce through layers of branches and leaves, landing on some distant, unknowable place.

"At least, Lord Levi doesn't think that the Great Mage... are all immortal monsters."