Chapter 6: What Was in the Hideout.

Several bookshelves stood in rows, and at the far end there was a large desk and a single fireplace. The ceiling was also quite high, giving the place a spaciousness not inferior to the training hall of the Lion’s Holy Office. Walking along the plush carpet that stretched straight toward the back, Ren skimmed over the bookshelves lined up on both sides.

“Does something catch your interest?”

“Shouldn’t you be the one asking that, Ragna-san?”

“I’m plenty interested. If I let my guard down, my thirst for romance and adventure will run wild, and I’ll end up borrowing every document I can carry.”

“But you’re not, huh?”

“Heh, you understand why, don’t you?”

Ren nodded and sharpened his senses.

The place was eerily quiet—too quiet. Considering everything that had led them here, it was impossible to believe that this hideout held nothing. There had to be something worthwhile at least.

“I can already sense reactions from several unknown magic tools.”

Whether they were for defense or secrecy, he couldn’t yet tell.

And there might be other magic tools that did not react at all.

“By the way, do you know why I came here alone, even though I was in quite a hurry?”

“You thought something like this might happen, so you didn’t want too many people blundering around… right? Judging by this situation, a small elite team is better suited.”

“Correct. That’s why I brought along magic tools that embody the Bureau of Mysteries’ finest knowledge—each one expensive enough to give you a headache just thinking about the price.”

Ragna stood in front of the large desk, first surveying the area.

He activated something that resembled a wristwatch-like magic device, then took another from his large bag and carefully scanned the surroundings.

There was no sign that any defensive magic tool was about to activate.

“Still, there’s no such thing as being too cautious.”

Ragna circled behind the desk, eyeing the chair placed opposite it.

A soft white cardigan hung over the chair’s back. It must have belonged to Mudi.

On the desk lay a used pen, its ink hardened at the tip.

Ragna picked up some of the scattered papers and laughed. “Written by a very smart person.”

Ren picked up a random sheet as well, but couldn’t understand a word. It all seemed very strange to him. But Ragna didn’t seem to share that problem at all.

“I-I can’t read this at all…”

“That’s Elven script. Looks like… a tale of travels across the Western Continent.”

There were many such papers written in various languages, each filled to the brim with text.

According to Ragna, they were all like daily logs—practically diaries.

They were searching for information about Cecil Ashton—but that, too, was here.

Among the papers lay a letter written in the modern language still in use today, and it appeared to have been written by Cecil Ashton himself.

“I sent some Dragon Eater seeds to Geno the other day, and he told me not to send any more. Since the seeds are so big that several adults have to lift one together, I guess they were in the way.”

That was all the letter said, but beside it lay a half-written reply.

“Next time, send smaller seeds. Don’t embarrass your teacher.”

The handwriting matched the Elven script Ragna had read earlier. This one was written in Leomel’s common language, so even Ren could read it. But one line especially caught his attention.

“Wait… Mudi was Cecil Ashton’s teacher? That’s quite a surprise.”

“How does it feel, knowing your ancestor’s mentor was a world-renowned figure?”

“I was surprised for a second, but… honestly, at this point nothing surprises me anymore.”

After all, Adventurer Ashton had already surprised Ren again and again, including with the revelation that he had once fought Asval.

“Still… the size of the seed probably wasn’t the real issue…”

Ren muttered, and returned to searching.

Before they moved on to thoroughly examine the bookshelves, Ragna’s attention shifted toward a drawer built into the desk. He reached toward it.

Of course, only after thoroughly checking for traps.

The drawer slid open without resistance, revealing an ornate wooden box with a silver keyhole.

Beside it was a roughly folded piece of parchment. Ragna unfolded it.

“This is quite unusual.”

“That crest and the writing beside it, right?”

“This is the crest of Misel, the Goddess of Games. And beside it is written: ‘Desire, proclaim, and revel in the games of Misel’—in the Dragon Language.”

“…I see?”

“When you make that face, it means you didn’t understand a word.”

Ren gave a wry smile, and Ragna patiently explained.

“Misel was, as the phrase suggests, a goddess who presided over games. It’s said she granted trials to those who sought them and bestowed divine rewards on those who overcame them… but that’s only a small fragment of mythology.”

“A goddess like that…”

“As for the Dragon Language—it’s the language used by long-lived dragonkin. The words themselves carry magical power, so it can be dangerous. It’s worth remembering.”

“Is it fine for you to read it, then? It’s dangerous, right?”

“As long as it’s translated into the modern tongue, there’s no issue. That makes it just ordinary language.”

Ragna tucked away the parchment.

“But I don’t understand… why pair Misel’s crest with such a phrase?”

They wouldn’t find the answer now.

Ragna then reached toward the ornate wooden box, without hesitation—almost as though he were certain he’d found what they were looking for.

“Mudi was said to be deeply knowledgeable. Her grasp of theology must have been strong. She probably found this somewhere during her travels.”

“She did travel the world. Maybe she found it and took notes.”

“Possibly. Either way, this could be valuable. We’re taking it with us.”

Then:

Just before Ragna touched the box—

The massive underground chamber around them rippled unnaturally.

“Wha—!?”

“Ragna-san, what is this—!?”

The path they came from began stretching away. Even the staircase leading upward receded into the distance.

The entire space warped as though being twisted like soft candy pulled apart.

“—Yet there wasn’t a single trace of spatial distortion.”

The words Ragna had spoken outside flashed through Ren’s mind.

Ancient arts lost to modern times. High-complexity techniques only a handful of people could once construct. A man-made creation rivaling high-tier magic capable of warping space.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

The traveler of many lands—Ragna—raised his voice in rare fury.

“To think that after all this preparation, all this caution—something still surpasses modern knowledge…! Mirim Altia!”

Despite every precaution, their entire plan collapsed in an instant.

The result: a technique crafted by one of the Seven Heroes—Mirim Altia.

With each passing second, the exit shrank. The space twisted, as if trying to swallow them whole. From the distorted walls, countless glowing purple magical swords emerged, attacking from every direction.

Sensing danger, Ren drew the Mithril Magic Sword at his waist.

He parried one blade—

“Ragna-san!”

“I know! We’re retreating!”

They could no longer stay.

The swords multiplied endlessly. Cut one, and two more appeared. Cut two, and four appeared.

“What is this power!?”

Even for Ren, a Sword Saint, the blades were heavy, sharp, and fast.

There was no end except the death of the intruders. The exit grew farther as the space warped.

Even this legendary defense system inherited traces of Mirim Altia’s power.

“Sword Wind.”

A spell created by one of the Seven Heroes—Lino Arkei.

Lino Arkei was a great witch. Ren had witnessed the power of her descendant in Windea. But this “Sword Wind” was clearly a degraded version—a mere imitation, unworthy of comparison.

“This too must be Altia’s work!”

“If anyone else could make a tool capable of sealing a spell like this, I’d call them insane!”

“Truly… to think I’d witness a Hero’s magic in a place like this!”

Ragna laughed while sweating, conjuring chains of magic around himself.

“Even if it is just a cheap imitation!”

He knocked away the blades, though only momentarily.

The crushing force dominated the chamber, disrupting every attempt to advance.

A degraded imitation it might be, but its nature still carried traces of a Hero’s magic.
Even after ages sealed away, its power evoked dread for what the original could have been.

But—

Ren overpowered it.

He took a deep breath, sharpened his senses, and—after pausing for only an instant—let all the incoming blades fill his vision.

“Haaaaaaah!”

He roared, swinging the Mithril Magic Sword in a sharp horizontal arc.

Magic is still magic, even when generated by a tool. And now that he understood the situation—

He could cut it.

The sweeping slash released a pressure that overwhelmed the storm of swords. Everything it touched dissolved into sparkling particles.

Soon, there were no blades left.

But… Mighty Sword Art: Star Slaying, the technique he used, felt slightly weaker than expected.

The lingering effects of his injuries were faint—nothing more. But the space remained warped, blocking their path.

“We need to go!”

Escaping the Sword Wind, they sprinted.

At the stairs, the air returned to normal.

They ran all the way to the ground floor—sunlight streaming through the window greeted them.

“Haah… looks like the underground seals itself automatically.”

“…It really does. Looks different from when we first arrived.”

Ren peered down the stairs. A shimmering wall of mist glowed faintly, blocking the path.

“It resembles the fog that once covered Roses Caitas. If we touch it, something worse might activate.”

“It’d be nice to investigate more… but that seems impossible.”

“Yeah. Even with more preparation, it would’ve been pointless.”

Ren couldn’t help noticing—Ragna didn’t seem frustrated at all. If anything, he looked satisfied.

(Is he giving up because it’s hopeless?)

Normally, Ragna would have complained or mourned the lost opportunity. But given what happened, maybe he had no choice.

“Facing Mirim Altia’s techniques like that… it’s practically impossible right now.”

“I think so too,” 

Ren agreed as he pushed open the hideout door.

Heat rushed in—something they hadn’t felt inside.

“By the way, how were you so sure it was Mirim Altia’s magic tool?”

“Her devices share common traits—something about the way the mana flows. The Altia family and the Bureau of Mysteries studied it together nearly a century ago.”

“Huh… so that’s why you said that earlier.”

Ragna packed away the tools he brought, and placed the items taken from the hideout into a secure case before storing them in his bag.

“Not a bad haul.”

“You really did take the letter and the box.”

“I feel bad borrowing them without permission, but after all we went through, leaving with nothing would be absurd. What was the point of all that preparation, then?”

Ragna chuckled, glancing toward where the hideout stood.

“Though I expected you would want to keep exploring, Ren.”

“Well… depending on the situation, maybe I would have…”

He felt too embarrassed to say the real reason aloud.

Because—

(I’d just end up worrying the two of them again.)

He couldn’t bring himself to say those words aloud.

After everything that had happened, he had only just managed to get outside again. Wanting anything more would have been asking for too much.

“But… what’s wrong?”

“…No. There were far more traps than I expected, so I think what we did was the right choice.”

“Yeah. I feel the same.”

While they were talking, the hideout’s door shut on its own.

Just like when it first appeared, the hideout was enveloped in light and vanished as if it had never been there. The Jewel Familiars disappeared the same way.

Although he and Ragna were going home by different routes, he would surely contact him again about something.

On the train ride back, Ren relayed every detail of what had happened in the hideout to Licia and Fiona.