0.5

Anyone would do. Anyone at all—please help, a completely exhausted boy prayed on his knees.

In his arms was a younger girl, her body temperature steadily fading.

The boy had already cried all his tears dry. His cheeks bore crusted tracks, and his eyes were swollen red.

“Someone… someone, please… my little sister…”

Forcing out his hoarse, failing voice, the boy begged for salvation.

The girl’s clothes in his arms were soaked red. The dirt beneath them had turned into a dark, muddy crimson—no doubt her blood.

But no one came.

There had been fighting nearby, and the domain’s knights and magicians had all been dispatched.

The village the siblings came from was poor. At most, the village chief’s home might have a single potion—and even that had likely been stored unused for years, its contents discolored and of questionable effectiveness.

The boy understood, vaguely but clearly.

His sister’s wound—this boundary between life and death—couldn’t be healed by an ordinary potion. What was needed was something called a high potion.

He wanted a potion.

If not, then healing magic.

If that was impossible, then at least teach him healing magic.

Anything would do.

Even if it meant sacrificing himself—if only his sister could be saved.

At that moment, three figures passed before the boy.

Two women, and what was probably a man. It was hard to tell by appearance alone, but the voice suggested a man.

The two women, judging by their clothing, seemed to be of some status or wealthy birth. Their bearing was dignified, their vitality sharp and resolute.

The man—was harder to read.

“Please… please… save my little sister!”

The boy begged, shedding tears that should no longer have been able to flow.

One of the women looked at the boy and the girl in his arms.

Perhaps she grasped the situation at once—she bit her lip and fell silent.

“…I’m sorry. Right now, we can’t help. But—when we return from the fighting over there…”

She must have wanted to continue.

When we come back, we’ll save her.

If the girl were still alive by then.

“T-Then, a potion! At least a potion! Or healing magic!”

The boy dragged his knees across the ground, inching closer to the three.

“A potion… we do have one, but…”

“Please, just that one! …Half of it! E-even just one sip!”

“That’s…”

“Then healing magic!”

“…With a wound like this, it would take extremely advanced healing magic to save her. Only a few people in the Santia Kingdom can do that—and none of them are here…”

The boy understood.

He would receive nothing.

If help could be found here, it would have come already.

“Th-Then me! I’ll try magic myself! Please—teach me that magic!”

“I—I can’t…”

As the two women struggled in anguish, a voice came from the side—the man.

“Do you want to save your sister?”

“Y-Yes!”

“No matter what?”

“Yes!”

After asking that, the man stared intently at the boy with a blue left eye and a clouded white right eye, then spoke.

“You two go on ahead. Leave the potion to Sophia.”

He took out a small leather pouch and handed it to one of the women.

“B-But if you do that, then over there—”

“Make it last until I get there.”

“That’s impossible—”

“Even if it doesn’t, I can’t ‘go’ there until I deal with this boy first. Sophia, I’m counting on you.”

“Understood.”

Saying that, one woman grasped the other’s arm, and the two departed.

The man turned back to face the boy.

The boy, in turn, studied him.

An androgynous face. Cold, silver hair reaching to his waist.

He wore a black jacket and trousers. His right arm was not through its sleeve; a white glove was fastened to the jacket’s right shoulder for reasons unclear.

His left leg ended below the knee, replaced with a simple prosthetic, likely made from wood.

Frankly speaking—it was eerie.

That appearance, that peculiar presence.

Like a ghost.

“Are you… a magician?”

“No. I’m not. I’m good at magic, but I’m not a magician.”

“Um…”

“I’m not a magician—I’m a sorcerer.”

The word was unfamiliar, but the boy quickly pushed aside his confusion.

If he could be saved, anything was fine.

“Then you’ll give me a potion? Or healing magic?”

“No. I already gave away all the potions, and I don’t have any left. I can use healing magic, but I’m heading straight into the center of the fighting after this, so I need to conserve my mana. I can’t use it on her.”

“W-What? Then what…?”

“You asked for magical knowledge. You begged, saying you’d sacrifice yourself if it meant saving her. My creed is to extend a hand to those who seek knowledge.”

From the bottom of his heart, the boy felt gratitude toward this unfathomable ‘sorcerer.’

“You’ll teach me? Healing magic?”

“I will. But teaching you would be meaningless.”

“What do you mean?”

“Magic works by manipulating the mana inside one’s body—mana manipulation—to manifest form and effect in the real world.”

As he spoke, the man formed a sphere of water in his palm.

“In other words, without mana to manipulate, nothing can be manifested. And your total mana capacity is extremely low—so low you couldn’t even create a sphere of water like this.”

Without changing his expression or tone, the man stated plainly:

“You have no talent for magic. Not enough to become a magician—or even a basic spellcaster.”

“Then what should I do!? I don’t care what happens to me! If my sister can be saved, I’d die for it!”

“Of course. I intend to keep my oath.”

The man nodded.

“You have a hopeless lack of aptitude for ‘magic.’ But you do have some potential for handling ‘sorcery.’ So I’ll give you knowledge of sorcery.”

“Will that save my sister?”

“You will save her. I’ll promise you knowledge and power sufficient to do so.”

“Please! Right now!”

“From what I can see, your sister is fated to die. You will interfere with that fate—warp the world itself. That requires a price.”

“A… price…”

The boy murmured darkly.

My life, he thought.

If that saved his sister, it would be worth it.

“No, no. I’m not going to say, ‘I’ll take your life as payment.’ I’m not a demon.”

The man laughed lightly.

“Though people do say I seem demonic.”

“Then what?”

“What you’ll be using isn’t ‘magic,’ but ‘sorcery.’ I’ll have you swear an oath. For someone without magical aptitude, the oath will be extremely harsh. Do you still want to proceed?”