Our outing had been retively uneventful so far. Three fiefs near the western border, each due for a routine security inspection—that was our thrilling assignment.

  Just past that border y the Forbidden Forest, a no man's nd cimed by demons, monsters, and the occasional witch. We would skim the outer edge to clear out any demon forward bases, but not venture so deep that anything with actual fangs showed up.

  These mid-game missions were drawn from a pool of over a hundred pre-programmed scenarios—low-difficulty filler content, the kind I never bothered memorizing in detail.

  Instead, I just enjoyed the steady drip of experience points—though I couldn't help feeling a twinge of regret that Evelyn wasn't here to partake.

  Between missions, I took the opportunity to limit-test Seraphine's magic.

  "There are two things to watch out for with unit-targeted spells: line of sight and range."

  She perked up immediately, staff at the ready—so eager it reminded me of the lessons I'd once drilled into Lumiere.

  "Line of sight is simple. If you can't see me..." I stepped behind a tree.

  "Bind!"

  Nothing happened.

  "Your spell fizzles." I reappeared unharmed. "The key application here is actually defense."

  Seraphine's eyes gleamed with understanding. "Meaning, if I obstruct an enemy's vision, I can stop certain spells from activating."

  I nodded. Her intuition was sharp as ever.

  "Range, on the other hand, requires practice. I like to measure it in paces."

  Unlike the game, there were no handy range indicators. You learned through trial, error, and repetition—or risked finding out mid-battle.

  "Hey!" Rocher called, wiping his brow with a towel. "When you're done with the lesson, stew's ready."

  "Oh, perfect. Mister Rocher, can you stand right there?" I pointed at him, about twenty paces away. "Now, Miss Seraphine—try casting on him."

  "Wait, what—"

  "Bind!"

  Rocher hit the dirt, trussed up at the ankles and wrists.

  "That's about your max targeting range. If you back up about ten paces..."

  The ropes dissolved, and he got to his feet, grumbling.

  "That's the distance at which your spell remains effective. The same rule applies to most channeled spells."

  "I'll practice it, Miss Cire!" Seraphine beamed.

  I nodded, pleased. The Tower excelled at theory, but practical field training was hard to come by. Perhaps that was the influence of its padins—to better keep them contained.

  "Gd I could help with your little experiment," Rocher muttered, dusting himself off.

  The smile returned to his eyes as he watched me dig into his stew—rich, hearty chicken. He only knew a few recipes, but each one he'd perfected.

  Seraphine's appetite was small, so she finished quickly and went back to practice, leaving Rocher and me alone by the fire.

  "You're looking better these days," he said.

  He wasn't wrong. With only demons and monsters to worry about, I felt like I was finally finding my rhythm again.

  "We're strong where we're strong," he went on. "And where we're not, we cover each other's weakness. Don't be afraid to ask for help when you're feeling overwhelmed, okay? That's what we're here for."

  What a leaderly thing to say. I gave his arm a pyful punch.

  "I'll try to remember it. Thank you."

  He hesitated, gaze flickering between the firelight and me.

  "The same goes for… other things too. Like love." He rubbed the back of his neck. "If you fall for someone, make sure it's someone who will be your equal, your support. Someone who'll… love you back."

  I blinked, caught off guard. The conversation had veered somewhere strange. His words hung between us, awkward and heavy.

  My mind churned—had one of the heroines rejected him? Their romantic arcs were quite bumpy after all.

  He gnced at me again, as if waiting for my response. The fire crackled softly.

  Perhaps he sought advice? Since we were supposed to cover each other's weaknesses.

  "Understood. I'll endeavor to support Mister Rocher in all matters concerning love."

  I csped his hand firmly—like a comrade after a hard battle. His face froze, halfway between mortified and bewildered.

  …Ah. Not the right answer.

  Our third and final quarry awaited in a cave, guarded by a small army of kobolds. Without our dedicated skirmisher, our formation was weaker than usual. Rocher couldn't hold the front line alone, so I volunteered to take point.

  I was still clumsy with daggers, unable to intercept every strike—but I was confident I could outheal anything that slipped through. Especially with the equipment I'd borrowed.

  Cnk, cnk, cnk. Every step echoed like a decration of my presence.

  "Let's get a move on, tin can!" Seraphine teased, smirking as my armor rattled. It was a bit oversized, but the intimidation factor was crucial to the pn.

  Phase one: draw aggro. Heavy armor generated the most initial threat.

  "Let the darkness fall away—Holy Light!"

  A hundred pairs of eyes glimmered in the dark, followed by a hundred sets of teeth. A shriek echoed from the depths, raising the hackles of every monster in the cavern. My hair prickled as well.

  With a rippling roar, the horde surged forward.

  "Ignite and cleave—Fme Arc!"

  A crescent of fire tore through the first wave, leaving smoking corpses behind. Rocher's bde followed, cutting down the stunned stragglers. I charged the center, armor booming like a war drum.

  The kobolds wavered, confused by the false front. That heartbeat of hesitation was all we needed—Rocher and Seraphine carved through them like a scythe.

  "Weaklings!" she taunted.

  Another shriek split the air. Shadows peeled back, and the true threat stepped forward: a lesser demon, wiry and horned, glyphs crawling across its flesh like molten chains.

  It raised a cw, shaking the cavern, stones tumbling loose from the ceiling. The kobolds renewed their assault, this time slipping past me toward Seraphine.

  "Phase two!" I shouted.

  "By spark and steel, let fire take form—Fme Bde!"

  Her enchantment wrapped my daggers in fme. I tore into the monsters, her magic compensating for my clumsy strikes. Together, we advanced—Rocher and I holding the line while Seraphine annihited clusters of enemies.

  Before long, we'd cleared a path.

  It was just us and the demon.

  Rocher met it head-on. His sword locked against its cw with the screech of grinding metal. Sparks leapt between them as the demon created some distance.

  It raised a taloned finger at him, hissing words not of this world. Dread surged through me.

  I charged between them, blocking the demon's line of sight—only for the bck energy to whip out and coil around me. The bindings cinched tight, pinning my arms to my sides.

  "Cire!"

  I grit my teeth. This was part of the pn, too. The demon had made a fatal mistake—the moment it started channeling, we'd trained to punish the opening.

  Rocher knew it too. We had rehearsed this. But he looked between me and the demon...

  "Hey bonehead! Don't break formation!"

  He rushed to my side and sshed at the bindings, his bde passing through harmlessly.

  I wanted to yell at him—Forget me! Deal with the demon!—but the coils crushed the air from my lungs. My daggers cttered uselessly. The glyphs pulsed; its mouth opened, humming something alien that thrummed in my skull.

  The demon was advancing on us, its maw full of teeth.

  "Sera—create some space!"

  "Damnit! Chill to marrow, break to splinters—Gcial Spike!"

  A corona of icicles unched, filling the air with dust and frost. The cracks reverberated through the cavern air.

  Rocher seized my shoulder and dragged me back, step by step.

  On the tenth, the restraints sputtered. On the eleventh, they snapped apart in a shower of sparks.

  Air flooded back into my lungs. I gasped, free.

  "You—stick to the pn!" I wheezed.

  "I am."

  I wanted to argue, but there was no time. The demon was closing in on Seraphine. She rolled out of the way at the st minute, skirt fring, staff cttering beside her.

  The demon growled, raising its taloned cw once more—but I interrupted it mid-cast with a shoulderpte to the ribs. The impact rang like a cracked bell.

  Rocher burst from its blind spot and drove his bde through its chest. The glyphs cracked, fred once, then shattered like gss. The demon gave one st screech before dissolving into ash.

  The cave fell silent. Only my ragged breathing remained.

  I sank to the ground, ughing weakly as I pulled off my helm. Heavy armor, I discovered, made you unbearably sweaty.

  Smoke and ozone hung thick in the air, the glow of fading glyphs painting the walls like dying embers.

  "Thanks for covering me, Miss Seraphine."

  "It was a beautiful dodge," Rocher remarked, wiping his bde.

  Seraphine knelt by the ashes, sifting, her voice soft but glowing. "Oh, quit your fttery, you lovebirds."

  He balked, but I was too busy wrestling with the belts of my armor to notice. "Goddess, I really need a bath."

  Rocher extended a hand. I csped his forearm, and he pulled me up before ruffling my hair.

  "You did great too, by the way."

  I nodded, but had other things on my mind. "Can we talk? I want to know why you broke formation."

  He gave me a sheepish look. I spped his shoulder to reassure him.

  "Listen. I'm not bming you. It all worked out in the end. But I need to know what you're thinking so I can take it into account when I pn our next battles."

  He gnced in my eyes and drew a breath.

  "We had the demon dead to rights," he said slowly. "Sure, if I stuck to the pn, we would've finished it faster. But if I have to choose between saving you and saving a few minutes, I'm picking you every time."

  I smiled warmly. Rocher as of te had been much more considerate. I thought to myself that the party would be in good hands—with or without my help. It was oddly comforting.

  "I understand. Thank you, Mister Rocher. We synced up really well today."

  It was my first time on the front line. I felt exhausted, exhirated—and grateful. I leaned forward and fpped the colr of my shirt, trying to cool my sweat-damp chest. Droplets trickled down my neck and vanished into the chill of the cavern air.

  Rocher looked away, swallowing. By how red his ears were, he seemed a bit overheated as well. "...Yeah. We sure did."

  Yes, it wasn't bad to try a different perspective every once in a while.

  Somewhere at the edges of my mind, a novel idea began to take shape.

  Ramón. Evelyn's advancement quest. Just like now, if I turned the problem on its head... maybe the answer had been in front of me all along.