"Why save a mage instead of a good person?"

Lain didn’t consider herself a good person either. Her choices often leaned toward her own interests—or those of mages. Recommending decent students to her alma mater might polish her tarnished reputation.

Gloria Academy of Magic differed from the Royal Academy of Magic. Theoretically equal in status, the Royal Academy attracted nobles exclusively. Aspiring mages would do anything to enter, craving its social connections. This left Gloria struggling to recruit students. Yet its stubborn headmaster insisted: "This school exists for magic, not nobility." Equal treatment for all students drove pampered nobles to the Royal Academy instead.

(Incidentally, Gloria’s headmaster had been Lain’s first mentor—now retired behind the scenes.)

"I understand…"

Rachel nodded, rolling the letter and sliding it back across the table.

"I shouldn’t leave. I’m just an ordinary mage—not some Sorceress. If I run now, I’ll truly become one!"

In the past, Lain would’ve knocked such a girl unconscious and dragged her away. Ignorant mobs never reasoned—they trusted only what they saw. Like those magic tools and books tossed in tavern gutters: to Lain or Hill, they were mere instruments; to villagers, proof of a Sorceress’s evil. They needed such "evidence" to soothe their fear. That’s why most burned female mages died without trial.

But Lain knew better than to interfere now. If this was Rachel’s choice, she’d face the consequences.

"Keep it. Burn it if you want. I won’t force you to go."

Lain turned to leave, leaving Rachel staring at the scroll.

Her path back to the inn felt uneasy. What if Sophia had returned? How would she explain?

Before she could ponder, Hill limped toward her from the shadows.

"Die, Sorceress!"

A dagger flashed—deflected by Lain’s solidified Mental Force.

"Tch…" Hill’s hand flew to her belt. All five daggers were gone.

"I’m no Sorceress," Lain growled, voice deliberately low.

She avoided fighting Combat Nuns. Their brainwashing made them relentless. Lain knew her body’s limits: her Arcane Power reserves were deep, but her magic channels were fraying. One more battle might shatter this gifted vessel forever.

"Just a passing mage."

"Then why—" Hill’s question hung in the air. *Why set the haystack ablaze? Why draw the crowd?*

Hill was exhausted too. All day in this town, her Holy Light had felt… restrained. She hadn’t fought at full strength earlier. Now her wounds refused to heal.

"The townsfolk will find what’s hidden in the granary."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

Lain stepped toward a dark alley across the street. Hill didn’t move to stop her—until Rachel burst out, waving the letter.

"Senior! I-I’ll go!"

"…"

"You *were* the distraction! You Sorceress!"

Red veins spiderwebbed across Hill’s eyes. Ugly cords stood out on her forehead. Golden light erupted around her—a descending god banishing the darkness.

Lain covered her face. *Perfect. The poster child for terrible teammates. Run quietly, you idiot! Must you announce it to the whole damn town?*

"Did I… do something wrong?" Rachel squeaked, vanishing back into the house.

Lain sighed, turning to face Hill’s fully unleashed fury.