A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 68

Episode 68. Conference (4)

Romantica won her match handily, and Fram and Azest followed suit with comfortable victories of their own.
Having triumphed in the Round of 16, all three advanced to the Quarterfinals. The Yellow Ocean Tournament attracted a caliber of competitor that was uniformly formidable, and the fact that they had climbed to the Quarterfinals by vanquishing such opponents spoke volumes about their own prowess.
Fram, Romantica, and Azest emerged from the stadium with buoyant spirits. Two hours remained before the matches resumed, so they decided to grab a meal before the next round.
“I have to say, our strength has improved tremendously compared to before.”
“We trained this hard for a reason. The results speak for themselves.”
Since the conference was still ongoing, they had no choice but to eat among themselves.
They decided to head for a restaurant they’d noticed on the way in.
“Though it’s a shame that Romantica and Azest will face each other in the Quarterfinals so soon.”
Romantica and Azest had drawn each other in the Round of 16 matchups.
Romantica spoke as if she had nothing to worry about.
“Why is it a shame? I’ve been wanting to test myself against her anyway. Isn’t that right, Azest?”
“……Once will do.”
Azest answered flatly.
Fram turned to Romantica.
“You don’t seem intimidated at all by facing Azest, do you?”
“I have confidence in my own abilities. That doesn’t mean I’m underestimating Azest, though.”
Romantica remembered the superhuman reflexes Azest had displayed during their volleyball match.
Azest was a Sword Mage. She possessed not merely the talents of a sorceress, but also the talents of a swordswoman—a foe not to be taken lightly.
Throughout all the years at Hebrion Academy, there were precious few who could overwhelm Azest. If not for Dezir, she would certainly have claimed the top ranking among first-year singles.
Gurgle.
At any rate, such wearisome comparisons were irrelevant now.
Romantica found herself growing quite hungry—the result of having cast so many spells in her match.
“Regardless, food comes first. If I remember correctly, there should be a place somewhere around here…….”
The streets thronged with people. There was scarcely room to set foot. Those who had come to watch the Yellow Ocean Tournament mingled with vacationers drawn by the seaside, creating a roiling sea of humanity.
A few spectators from the Yellow Ocean Tournament recognized Romantica, Azest, and Fram, waving in greeting. Some approached them with words of encouragement.
“Hey, Romantica! You’ve got to win! I’ve wagered this whole month’s drinking money on you!”
“Azest! If you lose, my wife will have my head!”
“Fram, win or lose, just please don’t get hurt! You’re a treasure to mankind!”
Most of the cheering related to bets, but being recognized by strangers was nonetheless a pleasant feeling.
Romantica and Fram couldn’t hide the smiles breaking across their faces.
As they walked down the avenue with noticeably lighter steps than before, something caught her attention.
“……?”
Romantica, who had been leading the way, suddenly stopped and turned around.
A man who had just passed her. He wore a hood, but just before he’d slipped past, she’d gotten a clear look inside it.
A Raven Mask.
“What’s wrong, Romantica?”
Upon becoming a 3rd Circle mage, Romantica had grown capable of sensing the mana around her far more finely. Whereas before she had detected mana only dimly, now she perceived it as though she could grasp it in her hands.
It was then that Romantica first realized that each person’s mana possessed a subtly distinct character.
Dezir’s mana, small and meticulously controlled.
Azest’s mana, cold as the bite of frost.
And…….
‘Mana that reeked like a sewer’s stench.’
She had felt this mana somewhere before. It hadn’t been long ago.
‘That’s right, that time…….’
The sorcerer who had led the assault on the Mage Tower Aureli Branch at the Magic Tower’s behest had emanated just such a mana.
At the time, she had been only 2nd Circle, so she couldn’t be certain whether the sensation she’d felt then was identical to what she felt now, but the mana of the man who had just passed carried a similar resonance.
Mana reeking like a sewer’s stench.
It was the sort of unsettling mana that surfaced in one’s mind without any effort to recall it.
“It’s just—I felt something similar to the mana from the Aureli assault in that man.”
She couldn’t say with certainty. She had merely felt a similar resonance. But if Romantica’s assumption proved true…….
“If that’s the case, we’re in considerable danger.”
Azest spoke.
“His gait didn’t seem ordinary.”
There was an air about him as if he were braced for an assault at any moment—a presence honed sharp as a blade.
“Besides, he’s hiding the true extent of his Mana. I can’t even gauge how much he possesses.”
He was almost certainly a mage of tremendous skill—far beyond what any of them could hope to match at their current level.
Romantica tried to sense that ominous Mana again, but it had vanished.
She forced the troubling thought aside.
“It’s probably just my imagination. My instincts aren’t always reliable anyway. He’s probably just an extraordinarily powerful mage.”
Romantica pushed the unease away.
Part of her wanted to confirm the truth, but she had no evidence—only a vague sense of similarity. She couldn’t very well interrogate a stranger over a mere hunch.
“Anyway, let’s grab something to eat. Look, there’s a place right there.”
Romantica pointed to a pasta restaurant’s sign, its elegant lettering catching the light.
The group filed inside and ordered their meals. As they ate and talked, the conversation inevitably turned to Dezir Armang, who was absent.
“I imagine he must be having a rough time right now.”
Romantica stated this as fact, but Fram objected.
“Surely Dezir is handling it well? He always manages to solve any situation we’ve faced.”
He had proven this in the Promotion Exam, and again in the Shadow World. Fram’s trust in him was absolute. Azest nodded in agreement.
“That’s not what I mean. I’ve sat in on conferences with my father and other high-ranking officials several times. The powerful always move in their own interest, and they’re always pushing their own agendas.”
“I see…”
“So right now, I’m sure the Conference is in absolute chaos. Everyone fighting for their own version of justice and profit. And there’s our poor commoner party leader caught right in the middle of it all. Can you imagine the mess?”
“You think Dezir doesn’t have the backbone for that?”
Azest spoke quietly.
“No, that’s true enough. He probably does. As long as Hebrion doesn’t come up…yes, there shouldn’t be any real problem.”
As the food arrived, Romantica brought the conversation to a close.
“The point is, even Dezir can’t solve every situation.”

* * *

The Hooded Man left the crowded main street and turned into an alley.
Though it was midday, the tall buildings blocked out the sunlight, leaving the narrow passage damp and thick with mold. Shattered bottles lay scattered across the ground, rubbish strewn everywhere.
“Hebrion…”
The whisper carried both affection and hatred.
He recalled the three young people he had just passed.
Their clothing was unmistakably from the Hebrion Empire Clothing Line. At their age, there was only one way to possess such garments—attendance at Hebrion Academy.
They were strong, likely among the best within those academy walls.
“Sharp instincts.”
That girl in particular had keen perception. He hadn’t expected her to sense his Mana at all.
The fact that she hadn’t pursued him was, mercifully, a stroke of good fortune for them.
A 3rd Circle Sword Mage, a Knight-class Swordsman, a 3rd Circle Wind Mage.
Mere children. Even if they all came at him together, they would be no match.
‘I should kill anyone who suspects me…’
But the man decided against it.
They would all die soon enough regardless. Killing them now would only buy them a few more days of life, nothing more.
‘They’ll all perish here eventually.’
Faint voices drifted to his ears from below.
His body dissolved like mist for a moment, then reformed atop the tallest building in sight.
The landscape of Frilecha Kingdom spread before him in a single glance—the distant sea stretching endlessly, the bustling streets, the buildings with their hanging signs.
His gaze settled on a single point.
Far in the distance, the towering royal palace blazed brilliantly in the sunlight.
He spoke quietly.
“Let it begin.”

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