Unlike the city, the night over the herb fields was exceptionally dark, without a single point of light.
Perhaps that was why the countless stars embedded like grains of sand in the night sky each flaunted their presence.
Fran sat on the cool wooden platform and took in the sight as he muttered.
"They shine so brightly. I'm jealous."
"Jealous? What do you mean?"
"Nothing. I was just wondering what it would feel like to shine that brightly and live in the spotlight."
His gaze turned toward Oscar.
"Well, a genius like you wouldn't understand."
"No...... You're plenty talented yourself."
"Thanks, even if you're only being polite."
Of course, Oscar wasn't offering empty praise. Fran really was quite talented.
There was no need to look far. The fact that he had succeeded at Dual Casting on his first attempt proved it.
To be perfectly frank, this guy was undoubtedly a mage with a promising future.
'I don't even understand why Little Oscar called him a problem child.'
If Oscar had to identify a flaw, perhaps it was his occasional, excessive need for recognition?
There were also moments when he seemed to lack self-esteem.
That was probably connected to his personal history.
"It wasn't empty praise. I'm not the kind of person who's good at that in the first place."
"......Ahem."
Perhaps he had sensed Oscar's sincerity, because Fran changed the subject with an awkward expression.
"Anyway, there really are a lot of stars."
"There are. Sirin used to be like this too."
That was impossible in modern Sirin, whose streetlamps kept it bright even at night, but until only twenty years ago, one of Oscar's hobbies had been watching the sparkling stars from the tower's roof.
Fran gave him a baffled look.
"Come on. How long ago could 'used to be' possibly mean? Your birthday is even later than mine. More importantly......"
Fran looked around and lowered his voice.
"About Sirin's herb industry. Can we really revive it?"
"We won't know until we try. But I don't think it's impossible."
Oscar's greatest concern had been whether the herbalists still existed.
If they had sold their land and finished moving to other regions, restoration would have been truly difficult.
'But he said most of them remained in Sirin even after selling their land. In other words, the expertise is still here.'
Oscar felt grateful to the fourth Tower Master anew.
It meant the herbalists who had wandered to every corner of the continent truly regarded Sirin as their home.
"Hmm. But can we trust them? They may have faced threats, but they still sold their land."
"......Do you think they wanted to sell it?"
Oscar smiled bitterly and asked.
"Fran. Do you know the best way to break a conviction as hard as stone?"
"We learned this at the academy. Softness, right? They call it overcoming hardness with softness (the soft can overcome the hard)."
That would have been the correct answer on an exam, but Oscar shook his head.
"Hardness (force) is the worst method and softness (gentleness) the second best. From what I've learned in my life, affection (emotional bonds) is the best."
"......Affection?"
"The thing people commonly call human affection (human feeling)."
There are iron-willed people in the world who won't bend even in the face of death.
But Oscar had seen more than a few such people waver when someone precious to them was seized and used as a threat.
"That's why I don't blame them. If the White Tower hadn't declined, if it had possessed the power to protect them, the herbalists would've never been placed in that situation to begin with."
Ultimately, when the cause was traced back through everything, it circled around to Oscar himself.
'......But now that I know the first button was fastened wrong, I can start over and fasten it properly.'
Of course, the process would be extremely irritating, troublesome, and difficult.
But once it was over, as always, only satisfaction would remain.
Oscar knew because that was how it had always been.
If you fall, you just have to get back up. Once you've made a mistake, you just have to avoid making it again.
Pat, pat! Oscar rose from the platform and brushed the dust from his rear.
"It's late. We should get some sleep......"
Whip! Oscar trailed off and suddenly turned his head to one side.
His narrowed eyes bored into a point somewhere among the herb fields.
"W-Why are you suddenly acting so scary? Did you see a ghost?"
"......That would've been better. It isn't a ghost. It's people. Four of them."
"What?"
Startled, Fran whipped his head around as well, but he did not seem to sense anything.
'They can even avoid detection by Fran, whose mana detection isn't too bad.'
Then the guys approaching now must be suppressing their presence as much as possible.
Approaching under cover of the dead of night while concealing their presence could not possibly mean they had friendly business.
Oscar spoke in a dry voice.
"Fran. It looks like we should prepare to receive guests."
The cold night wind brushed past his hair.
***
"What changed his mind?"
Blowww, pop! Blowww, pop!
The green-haired man repeatedly blew bubbles with his gum and popped them as he asked curiously.
"I'm talking about this job. When we offered to kill him last time, he definitely refused, didn't he? He said threats and imprisonment were one thing, but killing a Living Cultural Treasure carried a different weight."
An elderly spearman with a long spear strapped to his back answered.
"Who cares? We do what the guy paying us tells us. That's what we've always done, and that's what we'll keep doing."
"Does everyone get as indifferent as you about everything when they grow old, old man? Ah, I don't want to grow old."
The three men walking through the herb fields in the middle of the night were mercenaries contracted by Dvor Powell.
They were mercenaries in name only. In truth, they were wanted felons with bounties issued by the Imperial Security Bureau, and recently, the name 'Gunslinger Jack's Gang' had become infamous throughout the north.
Jack, their leader, warned them.
"Neither of you let your guard down. We were told there might be mages here."
"Hmm. They said the White Tower, didn't they? That's fortunate. It would've been more difficult if it were one of the other Four Great Magic Towers."
The green-haired man giggled.
"Who knows? Are the other Four Great Magic Towers any different? Of all the bastards who strutted around calling themselves mages, I've never met a single one who knew how to fight properly. They all held their heads high, but not one was seasoned."
"Yes, yes. We know how great you are, so just don't let your guard down."
The spearman humored him and looked ahead.
"According to the map, that's the house, but the lights are off. It seems a little early to be asleep......"
"Max, go take a look."
"Okay."
Spit! Max, the green-haired man, spat out his gum, lowered his body, and quietly approached the cabin.
Then, with practiced skill, he picked the lock and opened the door without a sound.
"......"
"......"
When he looked back, Gunslinger Jack nodded and signaled for him to finish the job.
Silencing his footsteps, Max approached the bed and quietly drew a dagger.
'Hmm?'
At that moment, his eyes narrowed at an inexplicable sense that something was wrong.
Even in the dark cabin, the thing beneath the blanket looked too crude to be a person.
"Fu......"
It was a trap.
Max realized it and hurriedly turned to flee. That was when it happened.
"You're too perceptive for your own good."
THWIP—!
With a sound like compressed air bursting, a spinning bullet of wind bored into his temple.
He died instantly.
Max had met the seasoned mage he desired and died without a moment to feel pain.
"......Hmm."
Oscar looked slightly surprised by the result he had produced.
'Wind Bullet (Wind Bullet). Is it deadlier than I expected?'
This was one of the spells included in 'A Reinterpretation of Basic Magic', written by Little Oscar.
It was a new style of offensive spell that reinterpreted the weapon known as a gun through the White Tower's wind magic.
While Wind Cutter specialized in 'cutting,' this spell specialized in 'piercing.'
'In any case, that's one down. So there are three left?'
He passed Max's corpse and slowly walked through the door.
The spearman met his gaze and asked.
"......What did you do with Max?"
"He's sleeping inside, so go get him. But I think he'll sleep for a while. Probably...... forever?"
"Tsk. What a pathetic fool. This is why I told him not to let his guard down."
The spearman lightly clicked his tongue.
Oscar confirmed his reaction and nodded.
'At least they aren't amateurs.'
Despite Oscar's obvious provocation, the man did not charge in recklessly.
That meant these guys wouldn't let a passing emotion consume them.
"If he's already dead, it can't be helped."
The gunman spoke to Oscar with astonishing coldness.
"Tell me where the herbalist is. Then I promise I won't harbor any resentment over Max's death."
"Hah."
Had he decided to avoid an unnecessary fight?
Oscar was slightly impressed by his coolheadedness, but there was only one answer he could give.
"Go ahead and hold a grudge, then."
"......If you insist on seeing blood."
The gunman filled his eyes with murderous intent and ordered.
"Kill him."
"Very well."
The spearman nodded and closed the distance in the blink of an eye.
Even then, Oscar calmly observed his opponent.
'A spearman's greatest strength is, of course, the one-sided assault he can unleash with the spear's long reach.'
First, Oscar had to neutralize that advantage.
Snap! The moment he snapped his fingers, a Wind Shield spread before him.
"Heh, you think a mere barrier will stop me?"
The spearman, who had thrust his weapon forward with a scoff, flinched.
The Wind Shield shifted at the perfect angle and smoothly deflected the spear.
The instant the man's stance broke, Oscar seized the opening and plunged into his guard.
'What? Did he plan this from the very beginning?'
The sequence showed a chilling level of experience, utterly at odds with his youthful face.
A single exchange had rendered the spear's greatest advantage, its long reach, useless.
"......But what a shame."
The spearman twisted the shaft with a broad grin, and it split into two short spears.
An unorthodox weapon (an unconventional armament).
It was the sort of unusual weapon that would inevitably catch any first-time opponent.
"To grow old means that I survived. Did you think I would reach this age without even compensating for a spearman's weakness?!"
The two short spears hurtled toward Oscar's vital points.
But without the slightest change in expression, he muttered.
"Ah, so this was it."
Aside from fairly useful speed, the man was an ordinary spearman in every respect.
Oscar had assumed there must be a reason he had survived to such an age......
'What a disappointing reason.'
『Wind Bullet』
THWIP—! THWIP—!
Two bullets fired in an instant struck the tips of the incoming short spears with perfect accuracy.
Unable to withstand the impact, the weapons split apart, and shock filled the spearman's face.
"I-Impossible......"
At this close range, and under the worst possible circumstances of a surprise attack with an unorthodox weapon, he could shoot with such precision?
'I don't think even our leader could......'
The thought had just crossed his mind.
Oscar's long, slender index and middle fingers pointed between his brows.
'That's two.'
Oscar raised his mana and was just about to finish the spearman.
"......!"
Every hair on his body stood on end.
His instincts, honed by countless battlefields and brushes with death as familiar as coming and going from his own home, screamed a warning.
His life was in danger.
'Wind Shield!'
Oscar reflexively stepped back and deployed three Wind Shields.
That action saved his life.
The bullet that bored through the back of the spearman's head pierced all three Wind Shields and still grazed Oscar's cheek.
Drip. Jack watched the blood trail down his opponent's cheek and shrugged.
"What a shame. If you'd let your guard down just a little more, I would've killed you for certain."
"......Wasn't he your comrade?"
"A subordinate, to be precise. I can always find another one."
This was why criminal bastards were the worst.
Oscar glanced down at the spearman's corpse, whose head had been reduced to pulp, and asked.
"What kind of toy is that?"
"Ah, you mean this?"
Jack waved the massive sawed-off shotgun in one hand and spoke.
"Well. It'd resent being called a toy. All you need to know is that it was damn expensive."
Apparently certain of his victory, Jack leisurely loaded a fresh shell into the chamber.
Oscar watched in silence, his eyes narrowing.
"The three spells it's enchanted with are Acceleration, Enhancement, and Penetration. Am I right?"
"......How did you know?"
"Because I couldn't block it."
If even one of those three spells had been missing, the bullet would not have pierced his Wind Shield.
It was a judgment only someone with absolute confidence in his own magic could make.
Jack finished loading and muttered.
"Arrogant, but you've got the skill to justify it. So even the ruined White Tower still has a guy like you?"
After considering something for a moment, he shrugged and made an offer.
"Not bad. More than anything, I like your instincts in battle and how quick you are to catch on. Your eye for reading magic is first-rate, too...... What do you say? Want to work with me?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Oscar tilted his chin toward the spearman's corpse.
"I think the back of my head would keep itching."
"......Heh, fair enough."
Even the gunman had to agree with that reason, so he abandoned any lingering interest.
"Then there's no need for further conversation."
BANG—!
The gunshot rang out to announce the resumption of the hunt.