Kiriya let out a quiet sigh and slipped the Bugtlon Sphere back into the inner pocket of his cloak. He patted the pocket gently, as if making sure the item was secure. The quantum energy capsule stored inside was far too valuable to be shown carelessly. In this world, the object wasn’t just advanced technology—it could cause a major uproar if it ever fell into the wrong hands.
Just as he was about to lie back down on the grass, his ears caught a soft sound coming from the garden path. A group of female students appeared, walking while gossiping in excited tones.
"Hey, look over there...!" one of them whispered, her voice full of admiration. "That’s Erick Greyson!"
"Yeah, rumor has it he’s a magic genius. They say that during the entrance exam, he defeated Senpai Lewis with just one spell!" her friend chimed in enthusiastically.
"Eeh, seriously? Senior Lewis is one of the elite candidates for the Strategic Magic Division."
Out of the corner of his eye, Kiriya glanced in the direction they were pointing. A tall young man in a deep blue academy cloak walked by with his chest puffed out and a confident smile. His silver hair was neatly styled, and his stride calm—as if he knew all eyes were on him in admiration.
But the grandeur lasted only a moment.
"But," one of the girls added in a quieter voice, "I heard from the head of the girls’ dorm... he got caught stealing underwear!"
In that instant, the young man—Erick—visibly slouched. The confident look on his face froze into a flat, stiff expression. His steps remained steady, but the entire aura of superiority around him seemed to collapse.
Watching from a distance, Kiriya merely raised an eyebrow. Standing up and looking at Erick Greyson from behind the old maple tree, he muttered in his head. (Erick Greyson, huh... That surname is pretty well-known.)
The information he had gathered from internal records indicated that the Greyson family hailed from the kingdom of Asrakhan, one of the Five Western Kingdoms. They weren’t high-ranking nobility—just barons—but held a respectable reputation, as their lands were known for producing the finest wool on the continent. Their livestock system was famously disciplined, and merchants from various nations relied on them for luxury goods.
However, what interested Kiriya wasn’t Erick Greyson’s noble status or his highly praised magical prowess. It was something more obscure—rumors found in unofficial reports: that the land where the Greysons came from was nearly destroyed by a supernatural phenomenon that even the academy and other magical institutions had yet to explain.
(From the leaked report I once read... the entire village experienced a mass teleportation event. Not just a few people—the whole village. Those who returned or were found later claimed that for an entire year before the incident... a mysterious object hovered silently in the sky.)
That object never moved, never posed an immediate threat—but it cast a deep shadow of fear over the village. Then one night, without warning, everything vanished. Empty houses, abandoned fields, and only a few survivors—who reappeared in different locations, mentally shaken and broken.
Such a phenomenon—large-scale spatial anomalies—was clearly beyond the reach of ordinary magic. Especially since mass teleportation is one of the most difficult branches in the theory of space and transdimensional magic.
Kiriya pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger, trying to calm the storm of thoughts swirling in his head.
(Why am I thinking about this now? Focus... Focus, Kiriya. You came here to research summoning magic and find a way home. That’s the priority.)
Even so, part of his mind whispered that maybe—just maybe—what happened in Greyson’s homeland was indirectly related to summoning magic. Teleportation, dimensional transfer, inter-reality summoning... they could all share a common thread.
And if that were true, then the only person who might have firsthand knowledge was... Erick Greyson himself.
Kiriya rose from the stone bench and gazed toward where Erick had walked just moments earlier. His eyes were thoughtful, a bit hesitant, but ignited by curiosity.
(Maybe... I need to talk to him. If he was directly involved or even just a witness to that event, then even the smallest detail could help me understand the gap between worlds.)
Though the young man seemed arrogant and was surrounded by suspicious rumors, Kiriya knew one thing for certain: there are no coincidences in the world of magic. Everything is connected. Even the smallest incident could become the beginning of a great discovery.
He clenched his fist, carefully tucked the Balton Sphere back into his cloak, and stepped out of the garden—his direction now clear.
Back in the city of Eks—a center of civilization draped in ruins and the blood-stained Coliseum—Ren and Kumara moved through the deserted streets outside the city walls. He had parked his motorbike far from populated areas, hidden behind clusters of rock and tall shrubbery to avoid attention. They entered the city dressed in long cloaks with hoods and makeshift face coverings, blending in with the dusty, bustling morning crowds.
Passing through the guard gate was no challenge for Ren. He only needed to time their approach with the patrols and slip in with Kumara unnoticed. Without incident, they reached the city center and headed to a small bar near the arena. Compared to the chaos of the marketplace, the bar was quiet. Dim lanterns glowed overhead, the scent of liquor and meat stew filled the air, and the faint clink of glasses echoed amid muted conversations.
They took a corner table by a cracked window. Kumara sat across from Ren, bowing her head slightly to hide her face. A server appeared, and they ordered simple food. After a few minutes, Ren leaned in and spoke earnestly, locking eyes with her.
"Hm... Kumara," he began softly but deliberately. "I’m curious... how did all this happen? How did you end up stranded here?"
Kumara stared at her hands, clutching her fingers tightly. "Our hiding place was discovered, Sir... We moved constantly after my father and some adults tried to conceal us. But someone betrayed us. Those who resisted were killed on the spot... and those who surrendered sold off to the arena..."
Ren nodded slowly, fighting rising emotion in his chest. Kumara continued in a trembling yet unwavering tone.
"My mother... died of illness while we were hiding in the mountains. My father... he fought until his last breath so we could escape."
Ren lowered his head. He’d heard such stories before, but no amount of exposure ever made him immune to the surge of anger and sorrow.
"Hm... then, as a Miko... have you ever experienced something strange? Like a dream, or a voice within your heart?"
Kumara looked startled, then nodded slowly. "I had a dream, Sir. Only once. In the dream, I stood alone... on a dried lakebed. Then a giant fox appeared... a white fox, nine tails glowing like embers..."
Ren narrowed his eyes. (Clearly... spiritual contact. No doubt you are the Miko.)
"And then? Did the fox speak to you?"
She shook her head. "No. It merely... stared at me. Silent. For a long time. But... its gaze... it felt like judgment. Like a test. As if it’s waiting for me to choose."
Before Ren could respond, the server returned with two bowls of hot stew and a plate of whole wheat bread. The aroma of red boar meat filled the space between them.
Ren offered a small smile and pushed the bowl toward Kumara. "Alright, we’ll continue after eating. You’ll need energy for what lies ahead."
Kumara nodded softly and began eating in silence. Though worry still lingered in her eyes, there was now a touch of calm on her face. Ren remained quiet for a few minutes, letting her eat undisturbed.
When they were finished, Ren rented a small room on the second floor of that bar. It was old and modest, yet clean enough to pass the night without worry.
In the dimly lit room with a window overlooking a back alley, Ren sat slouched in a battered chair while Kumara perched on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap.
"Listen carefully," Ren said in a low, firm voice. "I’m going out to scout around the arena. This place is full of eyes and ears. Wait here, lock the door, and don’t open it for anyone except me. Understand?"
Kumara met his gaze and nodded obediently. "Yes, Sir."
"Good." He stood and gently patted her shoulder. "I’ll be back before night falls."
With that, he left the room, descending the creaky wooden stairs and slipping out the back door into the quieter backstreets. Kumara sat alone in the unexpectedly silent room.
"Little girl..." whispered a voice, barely audible, like the hush of wind.
Kumara sat up, her eyes widening. "Huh!?"
The voice came again—more clearly.
"Yes... you can hear me now."
"Who—!?" Kumara stood upright, body tense, gaze scanning the room.
"Don’t be afraid. Look toward the window."
Trembling, Kumara approached the window with its threadbare curtain. She pulled it aside just a bit—and froze.
On the window ledge stood a small, glowing white fox as if illuminated by dim daylight. On its forehead glowed a clear ancient symbol: three interlocking circles—mitsudomoe. The sacred symbol she had only seen in her dreams.
"...Who are you...?" she whispered, disbelief in her voice.
The fox’s gaze met hers. It didn’t seem like an ordinary animal—its eyes were too deep, too intelligent. Its voice reverberated directly into her mind, without moving its lips.
"You already know who I am, Kumara. I have always been watching over you."