The magic’s binding spell shattered, sending brilliant light spraying in every direction.
It was a spectacle far more flamboyant and captivating than any fireworks Ash had ever witnessed in his life.
He stared, wide-eyed, taking in the dazzling display.
‘A little?’ he thought, disbelief etched on his face.
Could this truly be what they meant by “a little commotion”? |
Ash found it impossible to believe.
“Kyaaaak!”
Despite the considerable distance, the shrill screams of others reached him clearly, cutting through the exhilarating rush of the light.
“M-Master.”
Before Ash could even voice the desperate question, “What should we do!?”, his Master, with a practiced ease, extended a firm arm towards him.
“Hold on tight.”
“Huh?”
Ash blinked, confusion momentarily overriding his awe.
“Let’s go.”
Without another word, his Master clasped Ash’s hand and launched them both into the open air.
The Master’s face, usually so languid and sleepy, was suddenly vibrant and alive, illuminated by the cool glow of the moonlight.
Ash found himself soaring through the air, defying gravity on two legs.
He was utterly suspended between pure ecstasy and utter astonishment.
The familiar world around him seemed to lose all sense of reality, blurring into an impossible dream.
It was his Master’s single, concise remark that abruptly yanked him back to a sharper awareness.
“Tyllian is over there.”
“Tyll!”
Below them, Tyllian was engaged in a fierce sword clash with three other individuals.
Despite being significantly outnumbered, neither side appeared to gain any discernible advantage.
The three opponents were not just any fighters; they were armored knights.
Ash watched in horror as they completely disregarded their own safety, launching relentless attacks to subdue Tyllian, who was fighting in ordinary clothes.
The sight involuntarily ripped a scream from Ash’s throat.
“Master, help him!”
His Master tilted his head slightly, a peculiar expression on his face.
“Ah…? Alright. I’ll add this to your debt too.”
“I get it, just do it!”
Ash retorted, impatience bubbling up.
His Master stomped his foot in the air.
Their bodies began to rapidly lose altitude, descending swiftly until they reached the very spot where Tyllian was embroiled in combat.
The knights fighting Tyllian seemed to lose their focus, their movements becoming clumsy and disoriented, bewildered by this unbelievable turn of events.
Only Tyllian, with his back to them, remained oblivious to Ash and his Master’s sudden appearance.
“Ash, sir?” one of the knights stammered.
“It’s Ash, sir! Grab him!” another shouted, a frantic urgency in his voice.
“Such obvious distraction tactics… Are you not ashamed?”
Tyllian chastised the knights, his voice firm despite the intense fight.
Ash, still suspended in the air above, extended his hand towards Tyllian.
“Tyll, grab on!”
“A-Ash, sir?”
Tyllian looked up, startled.
He grabbed Ash’s hand almost reflexively, without a moment’s hesitation.
If Tyllian had maintained his original weight, Ash’s arm surely would have been ripped from its socket.
However, Tyllian’s body, too, became light as a feather, defying all physical laws.
A faint grunt of effort escaped his Master, almost imperceptible.
“Such a difficult constitution…” his Master muttered under his breath.
“Master, hurry!”
Ash urged, his voice tight with adrenaline.
The three bodies swayed precariously in the air, like a heavily laden ship tossed on choppy seas.
The desperate shouts of the knights from the ground, the horrified faces of the patrolling soldiers frozen in disbelief, a maid dropping a sack of potatoes with a clatter… all these details slowly receded into the fading distance.
It was, without a doubt, the most chaotic and spectacular escape imaginable.
‘Is this right?!’
Ash’s mind raced, a cold sweat breaking out on his brow.
At that precise moment, an unforgettable voice, resonant and clear, cut through the clamor.
“Ashton.”
It wasn’t a particularly loud sound, but Ash’s head snapped around instantly, as if an invisible thread had pulled him.
Curtains billowed wildly through the wide-open terrace.
Standing on the terrace of his very own room, the one he had just so dramatically fled from, was a tall man.
His hair, a deep black as if untouched by any light, was unusually disheveled, and his eyes, which typically held an air of disdain, now contained an unreadable, desperate urgency.
Owen Mills was glaring directly at Ash.
“Ash Mills!”
Ash had never in his life witnessed Owen in such a fury.
The intensity in Owen’s eyes was incomparably hotter, far surpassing any anger he thought he had seen from him before.
Ash instinctively tore his gaze away, feeling as though he would be burned by the sheer intensity.
His heart hammered, a frantic “thump, thump, thump,” against his ribs, threatening to burst from his chest at any second.
What would become of him if he were caught?
‘Was this really a good idea?’ he questioned, a tremor of doubt creeping into his resolve.
‘How far do you plan to go?’
Shoving aside these hesitant thoughts, Ash clutched his Master’s hand even tighter.
“Faster, Master!”
“It’s impossible. Tyllian Manor isn’t a good constitution for magic to work on him.”
“What if he shoots me?”
Ash pressed, the “he” clearly referring to Owen.
“I’ll save you as long as you don’t die.”
“An errant arrow could hit Master, you know!”
Ash protested, concern for his peculiar mentor.
“It’s unlikely I’d die from an arrow,” his Master replied calmly, an air of unshakeable confidence about him.
“Are you a god, Master?! How do you know if you’ll die or not?”
Ash’s voice rose in exasperation.
“Because Owen Mills wouldn’t shoot you with an arrow.”
“How do you know that?!”
Ash was utterly exasperated now, feeling a growing frustration with his Master’s inscrutable knowledge.
What other option was there to bring down a flying person but an arrow?
They were a larger target than any bird in flight, making them considerably easier to hit.
And Owen, as Ash knew well, was an exceptional archer.
Was it when he was nineteen?
The time he shot a hawk that appeared as a mere speck at the royal hunting competition remained a point of immense pride for his father.
And Owen was, in fact, aiming his bow at them!
“Master!”
Ash screamed, pulling desperately at his Master’s arm.
His Master, to Ash’s dismay, flapped like a piece of paper in his grasp.
He offered absolutely no resistance, leaving Ash’s mind completely blank with panic.
But no arrow flew.
Owen slowly lowered the bow he had aimed.
He appeared as a small, doll-like figure as he handed the bow and arrow to his adjutant.
Ash couldn’t discern what expression Owen was making from this distance.
He squinted, trying to read his face, but the rapidly increasing distance made it impossible.
‘Why didn’t he shoot?’
Ash wondered, the question echoing in his racing mind.
Ash’s heart was pounding so violently he felt nauseous, his stomach churning. And his Master, too, seemed to be struggling to suppress a similar urge.
“Ah… I can’t… anymore…” he groaned, his voice strained.
Thud!
Rustle, crackle!
Roll, roll, roll…
They plummeted down, crashing into the dense forest outside the ducal castle.
Unlike his Master, who unceremoniously rolled across the ground, Ash was completely unharmed, not a single hair out of place.
The very instant they hit the ground, Tyllian was there, catching him.
“Are you alright, Ash, sir?”
Tyllian asked, his voice filled with concern.
“Yeah… you?”
Ash replied, still feeling dazed. It had been so easy to fight and curse at Tyllian before, but now, seeing his face so clearly, it felt strangely awkward.
Tyllian had truly come to save him.
He was actually here, prepared to help them escape together…
‘What should I do?’
Ash’s mind raced, a new kind of panic setting in.
“Th-thanks,” Ash stammered out, figuring he should at least offer his gratitude.
“Huh?”
Tyllian looked utterly confused.
Then, as if a sudden realization dawned on him, he immediately launched into a lecture.
“See? This is precisely what happens when you place your trust in an unreliable magician; you invariably find yourself in peril. You, sir, need to exercise far greater caution. Who knows if your bones would have shattered had I not been present? Or perhaps you might have suffered a severe head injury. Could a magician who cannot even adequately care for himself treat you effectively in a timely manner?”
Ash’s thanks were definitely not for the simple act of catching him!
“No, I was thanking you for helping us escape. Your nagging is definitely not appreciated.”
“You’re treating it as nagging and ignoring it again,” Tyllian retorted, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
“Oh, come on, we just escaped, can’t we celebrate? You’ve ruined the good mood.”
While Ash grumbled, his Master let out a faint groan.
“Is no one worried about me?” he mumbled, still on the ground.
“Master! I knew you’d be alive after all. A magician who flies using his own magic and then dies from falling is just ridiculous. If it were published in the Imperial Magic Magazine as ‘Cause of Death: Fatal Fall from Own Magic,’ you wouldn’t even be able to close your eyes.”
Ash feigned concern for his Master with pointless, teasing remarks.
As he embraced and helped his Master up, Tyllian reluctantly stepped closer, his movements hesitant, and pulled the magician’s robe.
The magician’s body rose from the ground as if uprooted, surprisingly light.
The magician, now seated on the ground, spoke, “Cough… I wouldn’t have fallen if it weren’t for your requests.”
“See, Tyllian? Because of you, I’m in debt now too. Master says you have to pay it back,” Ash explained, trying to alleviate his sudden burden of conscience.
“I never asked for your help. And someone who incurs debts from a disciple’s request doesn’t seem like a good Master,” Tyllian stated matter-of-factly.
“That’s what he said, Master. Do you really need to get something from me? I’d grant your request even without accruing a debt,” Ash added, turning to his Master.
“Ash, there’s no such thing as ‘never’ in anything.
If an opportunity arises to exploit someone else’s weakness, seize it,” his Master advised sagely.
“You teach such good things…”
Ash muttered, somewhat sarcastically.
“Master’s a bit out of line. Don’t be too hard on him,” Ash said, defending his Master slightly.
Ash then diligently brushed off all the leaves and twigs clinging to his clothes.
Tyllian, with a soft touch, carefully removed a flower petal caught in Ash’s hair.
His Master began gathering twigs, and with a simple gesture, lit a small flame.
The dry branches quickly caught fire, emitting a pleasant warmth that touched their faces.
Ash looked around.
The slightly eerie darkness that had pervaded the forest was gone, replaced by the comforting presence of only his Master and Tyllian.
Tyllian was already at work, using his cloak to create a comfortable spot for Ash to rest.
“Please sit,” he offered.
Ash settled onto the makeshift seat.
It wasn’t as soft or luxurious as the chairs he was accustomed to, but it felt remarkably good.
“You haven’t had dinner, have you? I’ve prepared something light,” Tyllian said, pulling out a lunchbox from his bag.
Ash took it and opened it, revealing several rice balls inside.
Even though they were seasoned only with salt and sesame seeds, his hungry stomach gratefully welcomed them.
This simple meal was worlds apart from the exquisite dishes he usually ate, yet it was surprisingly delicious. It felt incredibly good.
He took a deep breath, and the refreshing, unique scent of the forest filled his lungs, revitalizing him.
‘Ah.’
The thought resonated deeply within him: Freedom.
Ash clenched his fist and shook it in the air, a triumphant grin spreading across his face.
“I escaped, right? We got out of the castle, right? Owen can’t catch us, can he!?” he burst out, almost giddy with excitement.
“I don’t know if he can’t catch you, but…”
Tyllian began, ever the pragmatist.
“Stop being annoying!”
Ash cut him off, his newfound joy unwilling to be dimmed.
“Yes. You’ve escaped. This is outside the castle. It doesn’t seem like your location will be discovered immediately,” Tyllian conceded, a hint of resignation in his voice.
“I won!”
Ash cheered, a burst of pure elation.
Ash launched himself into Tyllian’s arms, embracing him tightly.
Unaware of Tyllian’s temporary helplessness with his arms pinned, Ash, completely consumed by his sense of liberation, declared, “I told you I’d leave, didn’t I? I told you I’d reclaim my castle, didn’t I?”
“…Yes. Is this what you meant? You always manage to achieve whatever you desire.”
Tyllian’s answer came back with a soft sigh, almost an audible breath of resignation.
Ash chuckled, a light, carefree sound, and with Tyllian still in his arms, they tumbled backward into the soft grass.
The star-filled sky, vast and welcoming, greeted him.
Though there was still a lingering worry in his mind…
—Ash Mills!
Ash didn’t dwell on it for long.
‘Ah, this is so good.’
Enjoying the present moment was, after all, what Ash did best.