Chapter 48 A Spell that Shouldn’t Exist

Mari guided her gently down, setting her on the ground. 

“You can’t do this to yourself, Lady Liora! You’re my idol—I love you! You’re the reason I wanted to master magic in the first place. You’re the greatest mage in the world, and you’re not allowed to die here. Not like this.”

Liora whispered to herself, “…Idol…? Me? If you… knew the truth… you wouldn’t… say that. I’m not someone worth looking up to.” 

Kaia was already kneeling beside them, her hands glowing with a soft green light as she pressed them to Liora’s chest and forehead.

“She’s in bad shape. Mana deficiency this severe… it’s tearing her body apart. But I can stabilize her. Don’t worry—I won’t let her die.”

Mari clutched Liora’s hand tight, refusing to let it slip away.

“See? You’re safe now. So stop pushing yourself so hard… you don’t have to carry this whole war alone. Demon Lord have retreated and so did her army. You don't need to fight. We will get you to the camp. Just hang in there, Lady Liora.”

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The canvas walls of the command tent glowed faint orange from the campfires outside. Inside, the air smelled of herbs and healing magic. Liora lay on a cot. 

The tent flap lifted, Rein stepped in.

“…How are you holding up?” 

 “Had it worse. I’ll live.”

 “Liora, why push yourself that far? You didn’t need to. Tier six magic… even I get drained casting those back-to-back, and I’m the Hero. For you to… force it like that…”

“I saw you falter, Rein. You had her. The Demon Lord. Your sword was at her throat, and then… you stopped. It was strange. I thought—I thought she had done something to you. That she was about to take you from us. I panicked. I… I couldn’t just stand there.”

Rein shook his head slowly. 

“You don’t need to apologize. But you're right… I had her. She was out of mana, isolated, no backup, no escape. All that was left was the finish. Then your spell hit.”

“I… see. Then I acted unnecessarily. I only… I didn’t want to see another Hero disappear in this unjust world.”

Silence stretched, heavy. Rein stood there, watching her, until finally he broke it.

“…You’re one of the strongest mages in the kingdom. Tell me honestly—does magic exist that can read memories? Or take over someone’s mind?”

The question was so sudden she answered without thinking.

 “No… not that I know of. Magic can influence thoughts, twist emotions, but to steal memories or read a mind—I’ve never seen such a spell. It shouldn’t exist.”

“...I see. The Demon Lord said some strange things. Things she shouldn’t know. I was just wondering if she pulled it out of my head somehow.”

He turned, pulling the flap back open.

“Never mind. Forget it. Get some rest, Liora. You’ll need it.”

The tent closed behind him.

Liora’s breath caught in her throat. Only then did her mind replay the conversation.

Her blood ran cold.

"No memory magic. None exists. That means… whatever the Demon Lord said to him… it was real."

Her hands trembled against the blanket.

“…No. What have I done?” she whispered into the empty tent.

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The chamber was quiet, lit only by the dim red glow of braziers lining the stone walls. The sigils of the teleportation circle hissed closed behind Verron’s boots as he stepped forward, Aura in his hands, unconscious.

He lowered her gently onto her bed, his movements careful, reverent, as though she were something fragile he had no right to touch. Straightening, he lingered for a moment.

“…My lady. You pushed yourself too far again. To hold the teleportation ward over the entire Demon Plains… while fighting the Hero head-on, alone. Astonishing.”

A bitter smile tugged at his lips as he adjusted his gloves, eyes shadowed. 

“Or terrifying.”

He exhaled, quiet, the memory flickering. His own defeat. That day when his pride had been shattered beneath her blade. That same suffocating power, the pressure that had made him kneel.

“No wonder I lost to you. Even then… I never stood a chance.”

For a long moment, Verron simply stood at her bedside, silent. Then, with a bow so slight it was more instinct than thought, he whispered, “Rest, my lady. Tomorrow, the weight of the plains will still be yours to carry. But for tonight… I will watch over you.”

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The next day, Liora sat at the center of her tent, pale but upright, her fingers brushing across the faint lines of a teleportation circle she had inscribed onto the floor. 

Rein leaned against the tent’s pole, arms crossed, watching her.

“You sure you’re up for this? You nearly froze half the world yesterday.”

“I’ll manage,” Liora replied, adjusting her cracked glasses.

 “It’ll take me directly to the capital. Proper treatment… I need it if I’m to be of any use in the days ahead.”

Rein pushed off the pole and stepped closer.

 “Then leave early. Don’t worry about things here. Me and the other generals will hold the fort for a while.”

 “…You’re certain?”

 “Honestly, there’s not much left to hold. After all that, this whole sector’s just… one big crater. Not even a trace of those ruins anymore. We’ll patrol, look busy, swing swords at something. You go get yourself fixed up. Don’t worry. I’ll grab the next train home. Just make sure you’re in one piece when I get there, alright?”

For the first time since the battle, a faint laugh slipped from her lips.

 “I will, thanks, Rein.”

 Rein gave her a casual wave as he backed toward the tent flap.

 “Go on, get moving before I change my mind and drag you home myself.”

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Few days later, Liora sat at her desk once more, sunlight spilling through tall arched windows onto stacks of paper. Her hand moved across the page, though she paused now and then to sip tea that had long gone cold.

The healers at the capital had done their work — her body was no longer wracked with pain, her mana channels restored. Days of enforced rest had given her strength back. Outwardly, she was as composed as ever: robes pressed, hair neatly tied, a fresh pair of glasses balanced perfectly on her nose.

But the faint memory of cold still clung to her bones. Every time her hand brushed her temple, she remembered the crack of her glasses, the taste of blood, the glimpse of her own reflection breaking.

She exhaled softly, setting the quill down.

Reports were piling again: movements of reserve knights, whispers from other kingdoms, notes on supplies. The routine of command kept her focus, yet her mind wandered — back to the Demon Plains, to Rein, to Demon Lord.

Stacking the last set of signed reports, she rose from her chair. Gathering the documents in her arms, she exhaled slowly, preparing herself to deliver her reports to the council chamber.

But then — noise.