On the second day after Leichir left, Louis eagerly set out.
He told no one why, merely taking Lambert, Sif, and the two Elite Knights he trusted most through the woods along the edge of the Red Tide Fief to a deserted clearing.
The sky was clear, and a cold wind stirred the dry grass. All around them, it was so quiet that they could hear only the wingbeats of distant crows.
Louis remained silent throughout the journey, his expression calm, though his steps were much quicker than usual.
Only Sif, who knew him well, noticed the excitement he could barely conceal in his eyes.
He was like a child whose birthday had finally arrived, eager to unwrap a gift that had gathered dust for far too long.
"Here." He stopped before a patch of exposed rock and spoke softly.
Then he raised his hand and flicked his sleeve.
"Fireball!"
There was no lengthy incantation, nor any elaborate gesture.
Some invisible force seemed to churn the air violently, as waves of magic power surged out of his body.
Everyone felt their chests tighten, their breathing growing a little shallower.
The next instant, a ball of flame ignited in his palm.
It was no ordinary fire, but a crimson vortex of intense heat, compressed to its limit.
The fireball spun violently, as though it might break free of his hand at any moment.
"Step back a little," Louis said mildly.
Then he raised his hand and hurled it.
Boom!!!
The fireball struck an old tree over ten meters away like a falling meteor, its roar sending shivers through them. Searing flames exploded outward. In an instant, the trunk blackened and burst apart, and its thick branches snapped with groaning cracks amid the smoke before crashing to the ground.
"...Was that... magic?"