"Ah-"
His eyes snapped open.
Sunlight shone on his face with an unreal warmth. Around him was the clamor of the market-the steam rising from the bread stall, children's laughter in the distance, the creaking windmill overhead. Every detail was perfectly clear, with that unreal feeling of having just woken from a nightmare.
Flugel sat on the bench at the entrance to the market, holding half a pie.
Farsale and Reid were long gone.
Traces of where they had stood still lingered in the air-the flattened grass where Farsale had stood, the handprint Reid had casually slapped into the pillar he had leaned against-but they were no longer there.
"They've already left..."
Flugel clenched his fists, his fingertips digging deep into his palms. He could feel his breathing quickening, as though something were blocking his chest.
It wasn't pain, but something worse-a helpless premonition of falling.
He had returned to a less hopeful point in time.
A point when Farsale and Reid were already far away.
He glanced back. Vigel stood in front of him with his hands on his hips, his mouth already open, that all-too-familiar look of someone about to make a snarky remark.
"-Hey, are you okay? Why did you suddenly go pale?"
"...I'm fine."
Flugel stood up, his voice steadier than he had expected, but he could feel his fingers trembling slightly.
He quickly scanned his surroundings-Hoshin and Satella were standing by a pottery stall not far away. Satella held a clay pot with a chipped rim, turned sideways as she argued with the vendor about something.
She was still standing in the sunlight.
She was still all right.
There was still a chance to see her smile again.
Sunlight slid off her silver hair, its scattered glimmers falling between her slightly furrowed brows and along her tightly pressed lips-and he still remembered how, just seconds ago, that silver hair had fanned out in midair, falling into the dust like shattered moonlight.
The image was like a fine needle piercing the back of his head. There was no wound, but it remained there.
He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. This time, he absolutely would not let it happen again.
No-he had known for some time that he could start over.
But only now did he truly understand what that meant.
He could die, but he could not accept someone else dying in his place.
That made his own efforts crucial.
"Vigel."
He turned his head, his voice lowered, carrying an urgency that sounded unfamiliar even to himself.
"How long has it been since Farsale and Reid left?"
"Huh?"
Vigel froze for a moment.
"You just said goodbye to them. Did you forget? They left a little while ago, headed toward the council hall. What, do you suddenly want to go with them?"
"Take me to them!"
Flugel strode toward the alley, then abruptly stopped after two steps and looked back at Vigel.
"No, it's too late to catch up now... They move too fast."
He clenched his fists, his nails almost digging into the flesh of his palms.
"...Then we'll do it ourselves! Vigel, come with me, now!"
"Hey!"
Vigel chased after him.
"What the hell happened? You were sitting there just fine a moment ago. Why did you suddenly-"
"I'll tell you later. Right now, come somewhere with me first. And-Hoshin! Satella!"
Flugel spotted them as he rounded the street corner. Satella was bending over as she argued with the vendor, both arms wrapped tightly around the old clay pot.
Hoshin stood beside her, leaning on his cane, speaking to the vendor in a gentle but firm tone.
Then, in the blink of an eye, guards dragged the vendor away-presumably because Hoshin had revealed his identity.
Flugel did not stop. He ran straight over, stopped in front of them, and swiftly scanned the surroundings to make sure no one was following them.
"Um, may I ask who you are...? Why did you call out my name and Hoshin's right away? This is our first time meeting, isn't it?"
As Satella's innocent gaze turned toward him, her voice held a trace of undisguised surprise.
Those silver-violet eyes looked straight at him, clear as a lake that had yet to be veiled in mist.
Flugel no longer had time to strike up a conversation.
He knew he should say something to dispel her doubts, but his mind was racing-that alley, that faded curtain, that old, crooked locust tree.
If Farsale and Reid weren't here, they had even less time to waste.
Where was Echidna?
Had she been at the council hall then, or had she already returned to that wooden house?
If she had come from the council hall, she probably couldn't have arrived so quickly.
But judging by how Echidna had instinctively pulled Satella and everyone else toward that wooden house for shelter, she should indeed have been there at the time.
"Everyone, come with me first! We can talk later. There's no time to explain!"
His voice carried a certainty that sounded unfamiliar even to himself.
"A lady named Echidna is waiting for us. A foul fellow is approaching this city! He'll be here soon. We have to reach her before he finds her!"
Satella and Hoshin exchanged a glance. Hoshin's hand tightened slightly on his cane, and his amber eyes lingered on Flugel for a moment-as though he had noticed something, but he merely nodded.
Flugel immediately ran off in relief, utterly impatient.
As long as he ran fast enough, he could get there before she noticed the danger.
When he pushed the wooden door open hard, Echidna was sorting scrolls on the table with her back to the entrance. She turned at the sound.
"Otherworlder, you-"
She looked at Flugel, an exceedingly faint glimmer flashing through her pale purple eyes.
"How did you find this place? What happened?"
"The Melancholy Fiend is going to attack this place!"
Flugel knew he had no evidence, so he could only speak as quickly and plainly as possible.
"He must already be on his way. We absolutely can't rush into battle again, or we definitely won't stand a chance! Last time-"
He stopped.
The words "last time" sounded truly strange aloud.
He paused.
"...Anyway, we have to leave this place."
Echidna did not answer immediately. Her gaze fell on Flugel's slightly trembling hands, and something shifted rapidly in those shrewd eyes, as though she were leafing through a book only she could see.
She was silent for a moment before speaking.
"...How do you know that name?"
"Because I've already met him once!"
Flugel was visibly agitated, even though he knew perfectly well that, to her, he was merely a stranger she had just met.
"But he came prepared, while we rushed into battle-that must be what got everyone killed... That's why I'm standing here now."
Hurried footsteps sounded outside, and Vigel burst in, panting, followed by Hoshin and Satella.
"Flugel, did you fucking die again?! You're so worked up! You ran too fast. What the hell is going on-"
"Echidna, both our lives are at stake. Can you trust me?"
Flugel glanced back at Satella, then returned his gaze to the white-haired woman before him.
"I don't need you to fully understand why-but you have to trust me."
Echidna was silent for a moment, then tapped the floor with her toe, an intrigued, gratified smile appearing on her face.
"Thank you for joining us, otherworlder. In that case, perhaps we still have time."
She closed the scroll in her hands, the underlying lightness gone from her voice.
"You said you've met him once. Then you should know his weakness. Tell me..."
"...I couldn't find one."
Flugel could only tell her the truth apologetically.
"He's too fast. There's no way to dodge his attacks-he uses gravity to crush everything. Any magic gets crushed too. But he needs time to react-he needs to switch out of that state. If we can throw him off balance before he attacks-"
"If there are four of us,"
Echidna finished the rest for him, "and only one of him."
"-Five, counting Vigel," Flugel said.
Vigel opened his mouth, closed it again, and finally squeezed out a few words.
"...When did I agree to this?"
"You didn't." Flugel tilted his head to glance at him. "But you followed me here."
"What kind of logic is that-"
"Save the cursing for after this is over."
Flugel turned to Echidna.
"Do you have somewhere? Somewhere suitable for an ambush?"
Not far behind the wooden house, there was indeed an old, almost forgotten mill. Gray daylight filtered through its ruined roof. Echidna pushed open the half-closed wooden door and gestured for everyone to hide inside.
"There's an old cellar beneath this mill-it's very cramped, but it's enough to hide in."
"We'll hide first, and when he approaches, make it look like we're unprepared-"
Even without Farsale and Reid's help, he had to save everyone.
Flugel repeated those words to himself, over and over.
But that voice sounded hollow, as though he were trying to convince himself.
He did not want to experience another death like the one with Vigel in the valley-that feeling of watching a companion fall without being able to do anything was something he never wanted to taste a second time in his life.
But right now, all he could do was keep trying to encourage himself.
"We can only try to revive a dead horse."
Even Echidna, the Witch of Greed, could only choose this approach under these circumstances.
Satella stood by the door without speaking. There was a trace of complicated emotion in her gaze as she watched Flugel-as though she were deciding whether to trust him.
But after hesitating for a moment, she still gave him a slight nod.
"All right."
"I really must be crazy, coming here with you."
The anxious Vigel had also been dragged into the fight, but he trusted Flugel. Since he had already died once, he should have a way now, shouldn't he?
"While he's unprepared, we'll all catch him off guard together! Echidna and Satella's magical attacks will be our main force..."
Although Satella found this stranger who was willing to risk everything to protect everyone odd, she felt an inexplicable reassurance in her heart-that reassurance came from something familiar in those eyes, as though she had seen a similar gaze long, long ago, one trying with all its strength to protect something.
Time passed faster than he remembered. They waited quietly in the cellar, with only faint breathing and the rustle of grass endlessly mingling in the air.
After an unknown amount of time, footsteps sounded outside. They were slow and heavy, every step sounding as though it sank into wet mud, yet carrying an oppressive weight that was impossible to ignore.
The door was pushed open.
The Melancholy Fiend stood on the threshold, a corner of his hood lifted by the wind to reveal a face so indistinct that its features were almost impossible to make out. He did not enter immediately, merely standing in the doorway as though waiting for something.
"-I know you're here."
His voice was very quiet, as though he were talking to himself.
He took his first step, then his second, and just as he was about to enter the center of the mill-
"El Fura!"
"Shamak!"
While they waited in ambush, Echidna had used telepathy to examine Flugel's "Gate" for wielding magic, only to discover unexpectedly that he had immense potential for Yin Magic.
Unfortunately, Flugel could only undergo an emergency introductory lesson for now-in Shamak, used to obscure vision.
Two enormous beams of magic, unleashed with all their strength, swiftly closed in on the clown, almost catching him in a pincer attack from front and rear.
Flugel felt excited-the power of Echidna and Satella's magic was unmistakable this time, absolutely more than two or three times stronger than before.
Even with Farsale and Reid absent, with everyone so thoroughly prepared, they would definitely win this time!
The advantage is mine!
He shouted it in his mind.
The pitch-black Shamak shrouded the clown's head like a haze, like a cloud of misfortune seeking to proclaim this man's death.
Surely no one could survive such an enormous, well-prepared assault.
Yet after the violent explosion rang out and the smoke dispersed, the only things damaged seemed to be his clown accessories and outer clothing, revealing his even gloomier expression.
"No damage?"
Flugel felt utterly shocked and worried. His heart suddenly sank, as though someone had stepped on his chest.
But upon looking more closely, he discovered with joy that the man's hands were covered in bloody wounds, seemingly making it difficult for him to cast magic again.
Dark red liquid slowly seeped from those gashes, deep enough to expose bone, dripping into the mill's dust.
"It worked!"
Flugel almost shouted, but in the next instant, magic from Hoshin's cane swept in from the side, striking the backs of the man's knees with precision.
This series of surprise attacks had indeed worked-the Melancholy Fiend's body tilted, and he staggered half a step backward.
Immediately afterward, Vigel rolled out of the shadows, and electrical magic originally meant only to help him survive among the many swindlers of his homeland swept across the man's arm-a silver-blue glimmer flashed along the edge of that fragment, tracing a brief arc through the darkness.
"...A prophet?"
For the first time, a slight fluctuation entered the Melancholy Fiend's voice.
"-I was careless."
He raised his arm before his eyes and examined the bloody wounds, then slowly lowered it.
Those wounds were actually healing rapidly-so quickly that it was almost impossible to tell they had ever existed.
Flugel watched helplessly as the skin along the edges of those gashes closed like ripples on water, vanishing and returning to an unblemished state.
"But-that is all."
His voice grew calm again, as though he had turned a page in a book he had read far too many times.
He slightly raised his right hand, which had been covered in wounds only moments before, as though making an utterly casual gesture-yet in that instant, the air grew as heavy as lead. The crushing pressure surging in from every direction was fiercer and more direct than the first time.
Hoshin's cane slipped from his hand, and he fell to his knees, as though a mountain weighed on his shoulders.
Vigel was pinned against the side of the millstone, unable even to lift his head.
Flugel saw that black tide-he saw Satella struck, her body like a falling leaf, her hair scattering in midair as she fell backward, like shattered moonlight.
Beside her, Echidna was also held immobile in a corner by some invisible force, only to meet the fate of having her head crushed once again.
This time, he rushed over with all his might, trying to block that attack for Satella-but he was a step too late.
That mass of shadow had already slammed into her chest. Her body was violently thrown backward, crashing heavily into the millstone before slowly sliding down, like a withered leaf blown down by the wind.
Flugel knelt beside her and reached out to touch her cheek.
Her silver hair was cold, trailing between his fingers.
Her eyes were still open, his face reflected in those violet-blue eyes. Her lips moved faintly, as though she were saying something, but her voice was far, far too soft-
"Why... do I feel like... I've seen you... somewhere-"
In that instant, even the pain grew indistinct.
He felt that invisible hand suddenly clench around his chest, as though it meant to tear everything warm out of him alive. He saw it-something dark red was spreading across her chest. Like a flower slowly blooming.
He had never seen a color like that-it resembled blood, yet also seemed like something seeping out from somewhere deeper, something he had not yet had time to understand.
"Satella-"
His vision was flooded with a searing red. He heard his own voice shouting a name, but it sounded as though it were coming through a thick layer of water, muffled, distorted, crushed by some heavy force.
Then everything abruptly stopped.
He lay in the darkness. He had no body, only consciousness, floating in a boundless silence.
He heard two voices, as though they came from very, very far away, echoes from the depths of his memories-
He heard someone say, "Companions... the more, the better. Always."
And another voice: "If you aren't strong enough... don't push yourself."
Two lessons paid for with lives...
He closed his eyes and let those two sentences echo over and over in his chest, like two stones polished far too many times, their edges worn to a shine, yet still sharp enough to cut his fingers.
"I hope next time... I can go back to when those two companions were still here..."
His consciousness spoke softly in the darkness, like a pebble falling into deep water, slowly sinking, sinking, until no echo could be heard anymore.