Murder gleamed in the beast's eyes.
Up close, the thing was colossal. Black fur swallowed the firelight; a ragged mane bristled as it exhaled a deep, rumbling growl. Spittle dripped from its fangs.
A Black Lion—one of mankind's natural enemies, supposedly driven to the frontier long ago—had stepped into the kidnappers' den.
"Planning to eat me?" Shin muttered.
It would not be reasoned with. If it meant to attack, he would strike first.
"≪Magic Bullet≫!"
The shot cracked out and hammered the lion's brow. Metal rang on metal. The monster only rocked back a step.
"No good," Shin judged.
It shook itself, snarled—and leapt.
"≪Hard Shield≫!"
The barrier bloomed a breath before impact. The Black Lion's charge slammed the conjured wall and caromed into stone, showering chips.
If it kept rampaging in these tight halls, the unconscious thugs might be trampled. He had to end this in one stroke.
"One blow," he decided.
His hands trembled—not with fear, but with the fierce joy of meeting a true enemy. Monsters preyed on people. Ending one felt right.
The formula was Fire. No holding back.
"≪Overflame≫!"
Black flame roared up and swallowed the beast. Heat rolled through the corridor, harsh and dry, and the air filled with the scent of burning fur.
He wasn't at Grandfather's level—the Divine Fire, Agni—but he could do this much now.
"B-b-baaaah—!?"
Shin stretched his hands and closed his fingers on empty air.
"≪Overflame: The End≫."
The fire imploded, erasing sound and shape. When it vanished, nothing remained—not even bone.
Overflame had answered cleanly. Good.
"Why is a monster here?" he wondered aloud.
Creatures like that should have been in unpeopled wastes or deep underground. Speculation without information was pointless. Priorities first.
His book.
He crossed to the hearth, dug through a box of loot, and pulled out the worn Eastern grimoire. Relief loosened his shoulders as he tucked it to his chest.
"This is a hideout," he said. "Secure the rest."
"≪Dimension Rift≫."
A thin seam opened in the air. Shin worked quickly, mana-binds flashing around wrists and ankles as he dragged the kidnappers and shoved them through, one by one—the knife-man, the false coachman, the men he had shocked, and finally the giant swordsman. The pocket-space held steady.
He didn't fully understand what lay beyond the rift; he only knew it was stable, sealed, and perfect for storage. He'd used it for food and valuables before. Today it would hold villains.
"This will do."
He sealed the seam and started for the exit.
The corridors twisted back on themselves. He nearly lost his way—then stopped. Cloth rustled. Small breaths. A stifled sob.
Not the kidnappers.
He followed the sounds into a broad chamber lined with square iron cells.
"Jail," he murmured.
"W-who… are you?" a girl asked.
They were ten in all, most between ten and twelve, some younger. Pale skin. Long ears. So thin they looked breakable.
Shin took a step—and a chorus of shrieks erupted.
"Wh-why are you naked?!"
Right. He was still very much naked.
"Sorry. One moment."
He jogged back, found where they'd thrown his clothes, dressed in a hurry, and returned. No one screamed this time.
"I'll get you out first," he said. "Then we can talk."
He shaped a fine thread of mana, teased the crude locks, and popped the doors one by one. The girls edged out, clinging together.
"Thank you," one whispered.
"It's all right," he said.
Long ears. Quiet, deep mana. Forestfolk.
"Elves?" he asked.
"Y-yes," the oldest said.
"Why are you here?"
Tears welled, and silence answered.
"I won't force you," he said gently. "But… will you tell me?"
"Our village was attacked," the oldest whispered. "The children ran, but we were caught."
"Thank you," another said, voice shaking. "If you hadn't come, we would have been sold as slaves."
Shin froze.
Slavery was outlawed in the Empire and the Principality. Human trafficking was a grave crime. Yet here it was, in the dark, happening anyway.
Something cold and unfamiliar rose in him.
"Let's get you home," he said.
"Home?" Hope flickered in a dozen eyes.
"I'll send you now. Can you trust me?"
They looked at one another. Fear wrestled with longing; longing won. They nodded.
"Good. Hold hands—make a ring."
"A… ring?"
"Take the hand of the person next to you. Yes, like that."
"What will you do?" the youngest asked.
"Use magic to move you."
They formed a circle.
"Close your eyes," Shin said. "Think of home. A place that matters. A place you want to return to."
They obeyed.
"I'll touch your forehead," he told the oldest.
"O-okay…"
She flinched at his hand, then steadied.
The spell needed an anchor. He couldn't provide it alone. He let his mana brush hers.
An image flowed through the link—clear as a painting: homes nestled under a beautiful forest, and in the distance, a great tree standing guard.
Good. That would serve.
"All my mana, then," he thought. "It will work."
"Um," the girl whispered. "Your name."
Right. He couldn't use "Laguna," and just "Shin" felt bare. His mother's name was Anna.
"Shin," he said. "Shin Arnaz."
She smiled with her eyes still closed. "I'm Luna. Luna Silfgrim."
"A beautiful name," he said softly. "Here we go."
"≪Jump≫!"
They vanished without a sound.
"Success."
Jump could send things to places he had seen—or, with a shared, vivid image, to a place he could anchor through another's magic. It was brutally expensive, and for now he couldn't bring himself along.
He would fix that. Eventually.
The drain tingling in his palm told him enough: they had arrived safely.
"Ugh…"
His knees gave out. He had pushed too hard; his eyes stung, and the room tilted.
Food. Then sleep.
The hideout was silent now, save for the quiet crackle of the hearth. He shuffled back to the table and found a plate: hard sausage, a pinch of dry salad, thin-sliced bread.
He sat. Standing again felt impossible.
"I'll eat," he told the empty room.
He stacked everything on the bread and took a hungry bite.
"Mmm."
The sausage was tough, the salad dry, the bread stale—and somehow it was still delicious. Maybe it was the taste of being alive.
He finished quickly and set the plate aside.
"I used magic properly," he murmured. "Saved the children. Caught the bad men."
Maybe he had grown stronger.
Maybe he had been useful.
The thought blurred at the edges. He let sleep take him there in the chair, the fire keeping its small, warm watch in the dark.