I Fought Kal'tsit? Seriously?

Enamel coated her arms. With a single downward chop, she easily split the wood on the ground. All that remained was repetitive labor.

"Forget it. I don't know whether it'll taste gamey." Gerald could tell at once that she had never eaten this sort of thing before. "There used to be someone in my squad who handled the cooking. He bragged that he could turn Fowlbeast liver into a dipping sauce fit for nobles. I didn't believe him, but the offal he made really was delicious."

He pulled the organs out of the two Fowlbeasts' bellies. After hesitating for a moment, he set them aside. "I can't make that flavor. I tried a few times and nearly threw out the whole plate along with the food. Better to just find a roadside shop and eat there."

Sigh. It was too late to learn now anyway.

That cook who called himself a descendant of Gaul had taken a blade straight to the stomach during one battle, his guts spilling all over the ground.

After that, Gerald had not eaten offal for a long time.

"It's fine." Saria looked at the pile of chopped wood on the ground and wiped the sweat from her forehead. "I'm not a picky eater. Even if the food tastes poor, I can accept it as long as it is harmless to the body."

"Are you really trying to deepen my stereotype of you even further, Saria?"

Gerald picked up the basin of filthy water full of feathers and blood, casually splashing it onto the distant ground and letting it quickly seep into the dry wasteland soil. "Can't we talk about some of your, uh, hobbies that don't quite fit my established impression of you? If you aren't interested in any of the three great desires, then I'm genuinely impressed."

Saria did not respond. She merely piled up the chopped wood and efficiently started a campfire.

There was no need to worry about the wind. The flames quickly grew vigorous, warm orange light dancing in her eyes.

"If circumstances allow, I would indeed like to eat delicious food." She silently watched the flames burst from the firewood, searching through everything she had experienced in the past. "As for hobbies... makeup. Does that answer satisfy your question?"

"...That might satisfy it a little too much."

Gerald's hands paused when he heard that. He clearly had not expected such an answer.

But soon, he nodded and accepted it. "Honestly, I'm not particularly surprised. I actually think you'd be the fashionable trendsetter type."

"Why?" Saria raised her head and asked softly.

"Because of your hair, Saria. Look at mine, then look at yours."

Gerald raised an eyebrow and flicked the lock of hair tied beside his shoulder. "No matter how fancy the water I use to wash myself is, I could never get mine to look as carefully maintained as yours."

"So there's no way this was some sudden whim where you thought, 'Hey, I haven't bathed in ages. Time for a thorough cleanup'—and ended up like this. It can only mean you normally pay close attention to these things."

He paused, pointed at his own face, and continued, "And people who care about their appearance usually know a thing or two about makeup, right? At the very least, they need to know how to conceal blemishes."

"After all, you care so much for your hair, horns, and tail. It doesn't seem believable to insist that you would sacrifice your appearance for efficiency."

Cooking smoke drifted upward, slowly dispersing into the sky with the wind and concealing Saria's expression.

Only her voice came from behind the smoke. "That is a surprising explanation."

"Heh, I'm guessing nobody normally evaluates you that way. Don't worry about whether my logic is right. The result is correct, so just treat it as a lucky guess."

Gerald tossed several plants meant to remove the gamey smell into the pot alongside the Fowlbeast. He was about to turn around and find some wire to steady the pot when the sight before him abruptly stopped him cold.

His hand froze in midair. After staring blankly for a while, all he could manage was one question.

"Do you like burnt food, Saria?"

"No." Saria gradually came back to herself. "Why do you ask?"

"Because nobody makes a fire as tall as a building."

He pointed at the campfire.

There, the flames danced wildly in the air, rushing toward the endless sky with unrestrained madness.

Saria silently counted the blocks of wood at her feet, then glanced at the mountain-like pile of "remains" stacked within the campfire.

She said nothing for a long time.

Fortunately, it seemed that the strangers in the wilderness had all been drawn to the rapidly departing Mansfield. No one noticed the flames and smoke that had suddenly shot into the sky.

The wind quickly cleaned up the scene. Aside from having to chop more wood and start another fire, the only difference was that the sun had slowly returned from the eastern horizon to below the horizon.

With no clouds blocking them, the twin moons shone upon the land in the pitch-black night. Sparse stars could be seen across the wilderness, like fragments of silver scattered over a black canopy.

Saria silently took the boiling bowl from the fire and set it aside. Bubbles continued rolling upward with the steam, while the rich aroma of stewed Fowlbeast mixed with the fragrance of seasonings and gradually spread through the air—though what remained was little more than scraps.

In summary, Gerald's cooking was not bad. Aside from using rather spicy seasonings, there was not much to criticize.

Just as Saria remained behind to clean up the mess, a cold bottle pressed against her cheek.

She instinctively raised her hand, coating it with Enamel as she swiftly grabbed toward her side.

With a terrified gasp and a short, harsh scrape against the ground, Gerald narrowly dodged the attack with his sharp reflexes.

"Wrong, wrong. But you really can't spill this stuff. It's outrageously expensive. Even the money I had saved with Kannott was barely enough to buy one bottle."

He shook the small bottle in his hand, his tone carrying a trace of heartache and helplessness.

Saria's mind slowly relaxed at the familiar voice, and her gaze shifted to the bottle. "Liqueur?"

"Made in Leithanien, the best kind." Gerald found a huge rock to use as a backrest and sat cross-legged beside Saria. "It's perfect for commemorating occasions. Like commemorating the first time I've had real alcohol in two years instead of some Columbian garbage."

"For another example." He took out the two cups borrowed from Kannott and poured amber liquid into them. "Commemorating how a certain lady's efforts over the past two months were not in vain. Not only did she find the answer she sought, she even taught a student with limitless potential along the way. Hopefully I won't deal a devastating blow to your educational career."

Her lips parted, but in the end, she did not say anything to spoil the mood. "...I believe you won't."

Gerald shrugged and silently took small sips from his drink.

Alcohol was intoxicating, but he could hold his liquor well. A few low-proof drinks were not enough to get him drunk. Instead, they made his mind more active.

After tonight, he would have to prepare for the journey home.

There were still four full months before Kazimierz's Four Cities Assembly, two more than expected. But there was no issue with returning early. He could begin dealing with some troublesome matters... and relationships.

But before that, he had one concern.

A concern for a friend.

"Are you tired, Saria?" Gerald suddenly asked.

"That depends on what you mean." Saria slightly raised her head. She caught the deeper meaning behind his words, but clearly had no intention of answering directly. "I do not feel tired. If there is anything else you need to finish before night fully falls, I believe my stamina remains sufficient."

"Everything," he said softly. "Throwing yourself into prison for two months, searching for clues, slowly investigating the truth behind it all... You have a goal, a very clear goal."

Saria quietly took the wineglass from the ground, her gaze resting on the liquid swaying within it.

Only after a long while did she slowly speak.

"I once made a promise to someone."

Yet halfway through, her words caught in her throat.

Only after the liquid in the cup flowed through her mouth and into her stomach was she able to continue the unfinished story.

Saria continued:

"I... was moved by her dream. I promised her that I would help her realize it."

"However, she has strayed too far from the right path, both in thought and in action."

"I must correct this mistake, and pull Rhine Lab, which has already gone astray, back onto the right path as well."

Gerald swirled the liquid in his cup. The sweet scent of fruit seeped into his breath as the alcohol evaporated, lending even the air a faint intoxication. "Strayed too far... You only learned about this before leaving Rhine Lab, right?"

"...Yes."

"And then you decided to do it all by yourself? I haven't heard you mention any allies—not partners in the sense of cooperation. I mean someone you can share your progress with at any time."

Faced with this question, Saria could only answer Gerald with silence.

"I'm not surprised." Gerald shook his head and leaned fully against the rock behind him. "Just like when we first met, you saw me as someone who needed protection beneath Calcification. You mistook me for a pitiful person forced onto the battlefield since childhood, only to end up with his family destroyed."

"Although I'm glad to be friends with someone noble like you... if we consider things realistically, Randall was not wrong about one thing."

"Vouivre truly are an arrogant race. Even you are no exception, Saria."

"No, I should say you are the most arrogant among them." Gerald spoke slowly. "Because what you want is to protect everything you believe in through your own strength alone—even if it means being shattered to pieces or shouldering sin."

"But when I broke through your bottom line, you were objectively powerless to stop me. What if the next person you faced was not me, but an enemy at my level who wanted to kill you?"

"Could you still handle that kind of loss of control?"

"You couldn't." Gerald answered his own question bluntly. "You're too weak, Saria."

Saria was rarely criticized in such a direct manner.

When giving lectures, she sometimes faced sharp challenges from others. During her cooperation with the military, there had been plenty of officers who disliked her. Even among her former subordinates, several had said cruel things to her.

But without exception, those people had been filled with boundless malice and curses.

This, however, was different. Though it was wrapped entirely in goodwill, his words had dug open every bone in her body, pulled out the bloody flesh inside, placed it before her eyes, and criticized it line by line.

This was the first time.

Her lips moved slightly, and bitterness flooded her mouth.

Her tongue touched her teeth countless times, but she could find no way out. The urge to speak wandered through her mind, yet the door leading to words remained tightly shut.

Until she met Gerald's eyes.

"Don't overthink it. I'm not blaming you." Gerald chuckled and drained the remaining liqueur from his cup. "At least from an observer's perspective, there's already a way to start solving the problem. It's right in front of you."

"What is it?" Saria had never imagined that she would genuinely be hoping for him to provide an answer.

"An alliance."

Just like Kazimierz's Silverlance Pegasi.

One person's abilities might be limited, but when a squad of Silverlance Pegasi gathered together, they became the sole reason Kazimierz had been able to resist Ursus until now.

"Find an ally you can trust. At least in my view, there's one person you could start with."

"Someone who shares similar ideas with you, someone also involved in the Mansfield Incident, and someone who used to be your colleague."

Watching Saria's eyes gradually fall silent, Gerald spoke that name.

"You should find the woman named Silence. Talk to her first, and visit your Ifrit while you're at it."

"Make Rhodes Island your next destination, Saria. I'll go with you."

Something Big Is Coming

"...I don't know. Maybe you're right."

A cup of liqueur could not intoxicate a Vouivre's powerful body. Alcohol had barely any effect on her, but ordinary drinking occasions were not like this.

Her restraint had meant she had never known what drunkenness felt like. Yet now, hesitant words escaped with her loosened nerves.

Neon lights and clinking cups belonged to cities. Swaying grass and a sky full of stars were privileges of the wilderness.

Only after Columbia's lights had been left far behind did Saria truly experience for herself what the cradle of civilization in its earliest form looked like.

If not for the person beside her... then only loneliness and darkness would have accompanied her.

Thinking of this, Saria slowly braced herself against the rock behind her and stood. Holding her cup, she looked toward the other side of the wilderness.

"I want to feel the wind for a while, Gerald," she said softly. "Can you dismiss your Originium Arts for a moment?"

Gerald took a sip of wine and snapped his fingers.

The wind invisibly nodded to its child, and then everything around them began to move.

The wilderness at night held fierce winds that could not be sensed on the surface. Sand and dust blew into the pot, bottles and jars scattered everywhere, and Gerald casually caught the remaining liqueur. The unprotected campfire, however, was not so fortunate. Within only a few breaths, its light vanished into the air.

Now, only the countless stars overhead could illuminate her.

Yet even with no clouds blocking the starlight and moonlight, taking even one step was difficult for her. Everything around her was pitch-black. The nighttime wilderness made it impossible to see the road or direction ahead, while the wind rushing into her face made it hard to even open her eyes.

Saria slowly formed a shield in front of herself with Calcification, moved her body in front of the campfire, then gradually created a windbreak around it as she tried to kindle the flames again.

That warm yellow light did not appear in her eyes... It seemed she would need to replace some of the firewood first.

"That's what the wilderness is like."

A voice rose behind her. When she turned around, Gerald was shielding her cup to keep the wind from blowing sand into it and wasting the fine wine.

"I mentioned before that after leaving the Silverlance Pegasi and transferring to other knight orders, most of my work was reconnaissance and decapitation." He enjoyed the feeling of wind passing over his body. Even with sand sticking to him, he did not care in the slightest. "So most of the time, this is what I saw."

"To avoid being discovered by enemies, I couldn't light a fire either. Ursus winters were freezing, and even blocking the wind didn't change that."

"This is what it feels like to be alone, Saria. Even the most elite warriors are unwilling to step into the wilderness alone. Darkness will erode you, silence will drive you mad, and if you cannot find your direction, you will walk an endless road until the final signpost of your journey points in the exact opposite direction from where you originally intended to go."

"Two people are different." Gerald smiled and added, handing the cup to Saria. "You might still get lost, but when that happens, at least there'll be someone else to share the blame."

Saria accepted the wine he offered and gave up on trying to relight the fire. By the light of the stars overhead, she could not see very clearly, but it was enough to make out the expression on his face.