Summer, 927 Before the Death of Himmel.
This was the year Flamme turned eleven, marking her third year since arriving at Dragon Castle.
Practiced in the routine, she clambered up onto the castle roof and found the most comfortable spot to sit.
Resting her chin in her hands, she cast her gaze far into the distance.
Dragon Castle rested upon a coastal cliff at the very edge of the Schweir Mountain Range.
Behind it lay the boundless spine of rugged mountains; before it stretched an endless, open sea.
Looking north from her vantage point, she could see where the mountain range plunged straight down from the mainland into the water, transforming into a broken chain of islands that trickled across the azure sea to the very horizon.
Looking south, nearly half of the Southern Lands unfolded right before her eyes.
Wheat fields, bustling towns, trade routes—and even farther out, the faint silhouette of the Royal Capital shimmered along the horizon.
Her eyes shone with an unyielding longing for distant lands.
Those places she had yet to step foot in held dungeons, hidden treasures, and the magic she loved so dearly.
They were right there, separated from her by nothing more than a single barrier.
“It’ll take a bit more time to fully analyze the barrier, but I’m getting close.”
She pulled her gaze back, a resolute smile curving her lips.
Master hadn’t noticed her little scheme yet.
Perhaps it was just the natural dullness of a long-lived species.
After all, to him, a few months was nothing more than an afternoon nap.
But to her, a few months meant she could soon sneak out and skip class.
Right now, though, there was an important matter to attend to.
A few guests who had lost their way had paid a visit to the castle.
Stepping methodically onto specific bricks, Flamme nimbly bounded from the roof down into the castle interior, brushing dust off her clothes as she vanished into the shadows.
On the ground floor of the castle, a four-person adventure party had already snuck inside.
“Big Brother Kushawa,” a lean man whispered under his breath, “is this really a set of ruins? It looks like someone cleans this place regularly.”
“Benni, we have to try no matter what,” replied Kushawa, a broadsword resting across his shoulder.
“If we get lucky and scrape together enough travel funds, we can head to the Central Lands. We can’t let that dungeon map of the Central Lands go to waste.”
“I heard that decades ago, newly formed adventure parties could even collect a starting grant from the King,” the thief Benni sighed.
“If only we’d caught that wave back then…”
“Times have changed,” Kushawa interrupted, his face impassive.
“It’s all because of that Dragon Hero.” The vanguard among the four clenched his fists, his voice dripping with genuine resentment.
“Ever since he tricked the King, the starting grant the King gives to adventure parties has been cut down to a measly ten copper coins!”
At the mention of this, the mage—the only one among the four who had yet to speak—could no longer contain herself.
Grief and indignation were written all over her delicate face.
“It’s not just travel funds!” she burst out.
“To save up enough money to buy this new staff, I washed dishes at the Royal Capital’s Adventurer Guild for three whole months!”
Benni the thief patted her shoulder in deep empathy.
“At least you only had to wash dishes. Last time, I took a job clearing out cow dung on a farm…”
“Enough,” Kushawa cut in, halting the conversation before turning to Miya, the mage.
“How does it look? Done scanning?”
“There’s no one on this floor.”
At those words, both Flamme—hiding in the shadows of a corner—and the four members of the adventure party let out a simultaneous sigh of relief.
Looks like my mana suppression training has been pretty successful after all.
Feeling a touch of smug joy, Flamme decided to hurry up and defeat them before her master woke up from his afternoon nap.
If Master had to step in, this entire party would end up turned to ash.
She quietly backed up a few steps into the gloom, quickly plotting the optimal path to attack.
At the same time, Benni the thief had already picked open the doors to the treasure vault.
“Hey, guys! We’re rich!”
The moment the words left his mouth, a pale blue mana bolt streaked silently through the air, slamming into the back of his neck.
He twitched once, collapsing onto the floor before he could even squeeze out a shriek.
“Who’s there?!”
Kushawa the warrior instantly unsheathed his broadsword, while the vanguard raised his shield to protect Miya.
Then, holding her staff, Flamme stepped out from the corridor.
Miya blinked in surprise, then quickly readied her staff again.
“Don’t panic! This brat’s mana is super weak—it’s only about a twentieth of mine!”
Hearing this, the warrior and the vanguard exchanged a look, advancing toward Flamme in unison.
Flamme watched the two approaching figures without taking a step back.
She simply held her wooden staff horizontally in front of her, dropping into a textbook parrying stance.
Kushawa grinned.
Leaping high into the air, he brought his broadsword down in a heavy, mountain-cleaving arc.
He meant to shatter the girl’s guard in a single blow, leaving her no time to cast a spell.
Clang!
A harsh, metallic ringing exploded in the hallway.
The broadsword failed to cleave the staff in two.
The wooden rod—which looked as though it would snap at a touch—held rock-steady midair.
The blade was caught by a cushion of pale blue mana, feeling as though it had struck cotton before bouncing right back.
Kushawa’s pupils shrank.
The recoil numbed his hands, causing the broadsword to slip right out of his grip.
Flamme flicked her wrist, hurling the staff to strike the vanguard who was waiting for an opening.
Then, with both hands, she smoothly caught the broadsword that had been deflected into the air by her mana.
The motion was so fluid it looked as though she were receiving a weapon that had always belonged to her.
Kushawa stood stunned.
“What’s with that physical strength?! Are you a monster?!”
What mage hasn’t dreamed of engaging in close-quarters combat?
Flamme offered no response.
Shifting the broadsword into a two-handed grip, she assumed a textbook starting stance for a forward slash.
Having studied magic under her master for three years—and having been chased around like a punching bag in every single combat practice—Flamme was carrying a whole lot of built-up frustration right now.
A flash of sword-light burst forth.
Pushing off with both feet, Flamme launched herself and the heavy sword forward into a fierce horizontal slash, sweeping upward diagonally.
It all happened too fast.
Though Kushawa recognized it as genuine swordsmanship, it was already too late.
As the blade light flashed past, only Kushawa’s lingering voice remained: “You… you aren’t a mage at all…”
With the warrior and vanguard down, only Miya remained, having witnessed the entire beatdown.
She stood frozen, staff half-raised and mouth slightly agape as if she wanted to say something—like “How is this possible?!”—but Flamme was already right in front of her.
Miya’s pupils contracted violently.
Her brain desperately tried to process all the incoming data in that split second.
She simply couldn’t comprehend why a person whose mana was only a twentieth of her own was standing right here!
The terror of a mage being closed in on was hardcoded into her very instincts.
The mana at the tip of Miya’s staff flickered violently twice, then sputtered out with a soft poof.
Her eyes rolled back, and she pitched straight forward, flopping unconscious right at Flamme’s feet.
Flamme looked down at the four people sprawled across the floor, effortlessly casting Magic to Move Objects.
After all, several adventure parties had stumbled in over the past few months.
The four unconscious bodies slowly floated up into the air, lining up like a string of potatoes bound by a rope.
They drifted through the hallway, drifted out the main doors, and settled softly onto the grass outside Dragon Castle.
Flamme crouched down, searching the party leader Kushawa’s belongings until she pulled a yellowed map from a leather scroll tube.
Aside from the name [Endless City], the rest of the text consisted of symbols she didn’t recognize.
Still, she presumed this was the dungeon in the Central Lands they had been talking about.
Folding the map, she tucked it into her breast pocket.
Just as she was about to stand up, she remembered her master’s words: Since they took the trouble to come all this way, we can’t let them return empty-handed.
So she jogged back to the treasure vault, retrieved a small pouch of gold coins from a shelf, dashed back out to the lawn, and stuffed the coins into Kushawa’s hand.
Upon returning to Dragon Castle, the excitement of battle drained away like an ebbing tide, leaving behind a wave of fatigue.
Still, she hadn’t come out empty-handed this time—she’d scored a free dungeon map.
Flamme found Link in his second-floor bedroom.
He had just woken up from his nap and was resting against the back of his chair.
“A dungeon map?”
Link took the yellowed parchment Flamme handed him, letting out a yawn before even unrolling it.
“Most of these are fake,” he said with absolute certainty.
He recalled his past travels; out of boredom, the four of them had drawn hundreds—if not thousands—of fake maps during their journey.
Unrolling the parchment, he gave it a careless glance.
A hint of surprise crept into his tone.
“You’re in luck, Flamme. This one is real.”
“Really, Master?!” Flamme’s eyes instantly lit up.
“Can we go explore it together?”
Happiness had come so suddenly that her voice trembled with excitement she could barely contain.
“The outside world is too dangerous,” Link said, placing the map on the table.
His tone was calm, yet left no room for argument.
“I don’t intend to let you go. Wait until your magic improves further and you can protect yourself.”
“Huh? Master, don’t be like that!”
Flamme’s smile froze before she rapidly switched tactics.
Leaning in close, she looked up at him, her green eyes welling up with tears at a speed visible to the naked eye.
Her voice took on a touch of aggrieved tragedy.
“At least let’s negotiate a bit! Rejecting me so quickly makes me so sad I’m gonna burst into tears!”
“Cry?”
“Cry! Even if I cry, it’ll be right here inside Dragon Castle!”
The tears in Flamme’s eyes snapped back instantly.
She puffed out her cheeks, declaring word by word: “Master is the worst!”
“Alright, Flamme, be good,” Link said, reaching out to ruffle her hair as usual.
“Master, if you keep rubbing my head, I’ll never grow tall!”
“It doesn’t matter. Master has a trick—Magic to Force Growth.”
“Huh?”
Link pressed both hands beside Flamme’s ears, speaking with a touch of seductive persuasion: “How about it, my dear pupil? Want to give it a try?”
Flamme’s eyes rested on his perfectly deadpan face for a split second before she backed away without hesitation, retreating straight out of Link’s attack range.
“If it relies on external forces, then forget it.”
“This is a brand-new spell I just developed,” Link said, pulling back his hands that were hovering in the air, a hint of indignation in his voice at being rejected.
“Your magic isn’t magical at all,” Flamme stated with absolute conviction, standing at a safe distance with her hands tucked behind her back.
After three years together, she was completely attuned to her master’s thought process.
“Anyway, Master, do you have a spell that can get rid of fatigue?”
Fighting like a warrior was far too exhausting, lacking all the elegance of a mage.
Flamme decided she would try her best to resolve fights using magic from now on.
“I do, I do,” Link replied, his tone brimming with calm confidence.
Taking Flamme by the hand, he led her along while speaking.
“Many of the spells I know have that capability. But let’s eat dinner first, or it’ll be too late.”
After dinner, Flamme sat quietly in her chair, her hands neatly resting on her knees as she waited for her master to cast the spell.
“Close your eyes first,” Link said softly, standing before her.
Flamme obediently closed her eyes.
She felt her master’s fingers approach her forehead—it must be some kind of sleep-inducing magic, she thought dizzily.
Then, Link curled his index finger, targeted her forehead, and gave it a crisp, decisive flick.
Flamme keeled over, falling into unconsciousness.
Link pulled back his finger, examined it, and nodded in satisfaction.
“Just the right amount of force.”
Bending down, Link scooped Flamme up from the chair, carried her back to her room, and gently laid her on the bed.
Flamme’s head sank into the pillow.
Her breathing was steady and long; her eyelashes fluttered faintly every now and then, her lips slightly pursed with a tiny smile resting at the corners, as if she were in the middle of a lovely dream.
Link pulled the blanket up over her shoulders.
Having done all this, he turned around and walked toward the door.
“I really, really wanna see the outside world…”
Flamme’s sleepy murmur echoed from behind Link.
It carried the heavy haze of sleepiness, but also a deep earnestness that only leaked out when she believed the other person couldn’t hear.
“So that’s the sweet dream you’re having,” Link whispered softly to himself.
A child’s dreams contained no grand ambitions; they were merely simple things that adults could accomplish with ease.
“In that case, I’ll make your dream come true.”
He stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.
On the bed, Flamme quietly cracked open one eye, pulled a funny face, and then quickly closed it again.
Now, she could have a truly sweet dream.