NOVPUBThe fire giant—<Quasimodo>.
It wasn’t for nothing that Ludger had once mistaken it for a top-tier flame spirit; the creature wiped out the soldiers with overwhelming firepower.
The men in armor melted where they stood, leaving behind not even corpses.
The soldiers who had committed one-sided slaughter now received that very cruelty in full return.
With the noble and the elite forces gone, no matter how well-trained the remaining soldiers were, before <Quasimodo>, they were nothing more than kindling.
The flames surged higher.
Feeding on life as fuel and death as tinder, they grew more massive, more horrific.
Fire rained down on the fleeing soldiers from above.
Esmeralda watched the inferno unfold, tears endlessly falling from her eyes.
—Why?
Just yesterday, she had been living her usual, peaceful life.
Waking to the sound of birdsong, going on strolls with the spirits, exchanging greetings with the familiar villagers.
Dancing, singing, laughing—always surrounded by joy.
But none of her tears ever reached the ground.
The heat was so intense, they evaporated before they could fall.
Only the dried trace remained, the mark of where tears had once flowed.
Just like the life she once knew—now gone.
Esmeralda slowly stood.
And then she took a step forward.
<Quasimodo>, who had been guarding her, shrank into a small ember and was absorbed into her body.
And so, Esmeralda left the burning village behind, staggering as she disappeared into the pitch-black dark.
With no destination.
Slowly.
“I couldn’t do anything back then.”
Pierre stared off in the direction Esmeralda had vanished, his expression pained.
He had been painting outside the village that day and only realized something was wrong when it was far too late. By the time he arrived, the massacre had already begun—and as a novice mage, there was nothing he could do.
“I lost my eyesight in that fire.”
The painted scene shifted. Pierre, now blind, had somehow survived the catastrophe.
But without his sight, he couldn’t walk properly. At that rate, it was only a matter of time before he would be consumed by the flames.
And then someone grabbed his hand.
—“Hey! Come on, get up!”
A soft, youthful voice. Judging by the tone, it was a girl—still young.
But Ludger couldn’t see her face. The world within the painting only showed a vague, dark silhouette pulling Pierre’s hand.
Painting magic could only reproduce what had been seen. After losing his sight, Pierre could no longer “see” her clearly.
Thanks to the girl’s help, Pierre managed to escape the fire.
—“Th-Thank you. You saved me.”
—“Forget it. I just did what had to be done.”
—“What about everyone else? Did anyone else survive?”
—“...No. They're all dead.”
—“No...”
Pierre stared blankly at the burning village.
He couldn’t see, but the sweltering heat that filled the air told him the village was there—was burning.
Who knew how long he had been sitting in a daze?
He felt the girl approach him again.
—“You’re that painter who came here a while ago, right?”
—“You knew?”
—“You stood out. That awkward look left an impression.”
—“...Sorry.”
—“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s not like this was your fault.”
Her voice trembled with restrained fury.
Pierre asked her carefully,
—“What will you do now?”
—“Get revenge.”
—“Revenge...?”
—“Isn’t that obvious? They killed everyone. The soldiers burned the village and slaughtered the people—just because they felt insulted.”
—“I... I...”
Pierre couldn’t even imagine trying to fight.
The girl sighed and stepped closer.
—“Your eyes... are they okay?”
—“I can’t see anything.”
—“...The burns are bad. For a painter to lose his sight... that’s serious.”
—“Even so... I’m just grateful to be alive.”
—“Gratitude, huh. Unlike you, I can’t bring myself to feel that way.”
Ah...
Pierre had no words.
He hadn’t lived in the village long. But that girl—she must have. She may have had close friends here. Maybe even family.
—“...Are you leaving?”
Despite being unable to care for himself, Pierre asked out of concern for the girl’s future.
—“I have to. But I’m not going to force you to come with me or anything. Still, I can’t just let this go.”
—“...”
—“You should get out of here, too. Who knows if more people will come looking.”
And with that, the girl left Pierre behind.
Ah...
Pierre reached out weakly toward her fading figure.
He wanted to ask her name—at the very least.
But the words never made it out.
Left alone, Pierre remained seated in that place.
Until the fire finally extinguished itself, having consumed all that it could.
The painting magic ended there.
The scene of the burning village disappeared. In its place, only a silent, empty reality remained.
The raging fire was gone. The dying villagers—erased without a trace.
Only the ruins remained, their past unrecoverable.
“I couldn’t bring myself to leave.”
Standing at the center of the wreckage, Pierre spoke with a bitter voice.
“Everyone I cared about is dead. I can’t even paint anymore. All that’s left in this place are nightmares... and yet, I stayed.”
“Why?”
“Maybe I was clinging to something. This was the first place that accepted me for who I was. Or maybe... it’s duty. Someone has to remember.”
And so, Pierre stayed.
He remained and kept painting. Recreating the scenes from memory.
He stumbled, over and over again, unable to see. Sometimes he nearly broke from the weight of it all.
But he endured.
He painted.
“Over time, something began to change. I knew nothing of magic... but eventually, I found I could infuse it into my brushstrokes. Maybe that was my real talent all along.”
A painter who once could only draw what he saw, now painting truly for ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ the first time—after losing his eyes.
What irony.
And yet Pierre neither thanked nor resented his blindness.
The only thing that lingered in his heart was the uncertainty of what became of Lady Esmeralda, and the girl who had saved him.
“I see.”
Ludger stood in the center of the ruins and closed his eyes.
A night breeze stirred, brushing across his face.
He replayed the vision he had just seen.
The fire had wiped out the entire village.
And after that, the Durmang Kingdom likely coined the term “Great Fire” to cover it all up.
“They may have stopped the rumors from spreading abroad... but they couldn’t suppress the fury that boiled within their own borders.”
There must have been those who felt something was off.
Anyone who looked closer would’ve realized it wasn’t an accident.
It was inevitable that the Great Fire of Roteng would become the tipping point in Durmang’s downfall.
The rage of the commoners—long simmering against the entitled nobility—finally ignited and exploded.
And the people raised the banner of revolution.
Still, the entrenched powers of Durmang likely believed they were safe as long as they held authority.
But unlike Earth in Ludger’s past life—where everyone wielded the same guns and gunpowder—this world had magic and knights. Asymmetrical power.
No matter how many commoners rose up, a revolution wouldn’t be so easy here.
“But once a fire starts, it doesn’t die down so easily either.”
That fire reached its peak five years ago, during the Night of Blood in the Durmang city of Jévaudan.
An event that utterly shattered the kingdom’s credibility.
“The bastards who justified their tyranny through divine right—stood frozen when faced with a cryptid.”
The Divine Right of Kings.
The belief that royal power came from the heavens—that all must obey the will of God expressed through the monarch.
Durmang, with the Lumenis Church as its state religion, had embraced it to the extreme.
But when the cryptid outbreak struck, and the beast of Jévaudan rampaged—their “divine authority” meant nothing.
Durmang failed to deal with the cryptids. Failed to protect its people.
And worse—it wasn’t the kingdom’s knights or mages who defeated the monsters. 𝑛𝘰𝘷𝑝𝘶𝑏.𝑐𝘰𝘮
It was a wandering hunter.
The people’s trust collapsed.
—“So what the hell did the state even do?”
—“And what the hell did those proud knights and mages even do?”
Even the actions—or lack thereof—of the allied Bretus Theocracy were a problem.
For reasons unknown, Bretus had closed its borders twenty years ago and ceased all deployment of Holy Knights to foreign nations.
And all the while, the Lumenis Church continued to collect exorbitant religious taxes. Public trust in the church plummeted.
It was the moment faith in God itself began to collapse.
And with that, the flame of revolution blazed once more.
Hotter. Fiercer than ever before.
Five years have passed since then.
The Durmang Kingdom has lost all former glory. Most of its nobles have fled abroad or gone into exile.
The royal family remains, but they're little more than a candle flickering before the wind—no one knows when they’ll be snuffed out.
Durmang continues to suffer through its growing pains of transformation.
But at least the end of that change... promises something better than before.
And yet, getting here has cost far too much.
The Great Fire of Roteng was one of those tragedies.
How many lives were snuffed out like flames, lost in the shadows of history?
And who bears responsibility for the monster that was born from it?
First Order Esmeralda and the fire giant <Quasimodo>—
One could say they were simply monsters forged by a monstrous era.
Born of the world’s cruelty, those monsters found their way to Seorn—by joining hands with the Black Dawn Order.
“Have you found all the answers you were looking for?”
“...More or less.”
“Then that’s good to hear.”
“You’re not suspicious of me?”
Ludger still couldn’t understand why Pierre had told him all of this.
Not to mention, the painting magic Pierre wielded was enough to drive most mages mad with envy. Judging by his actions, Pierre had hidden that power all his life.
And yet, he’d displayed it freely for Ludger.
“I was suspicious at first.”
“At first?”
“But while you were watching the past I showed you... I could feel something. Anger. Compassion. Even pity.”
“I never showed any of that.”
“You may not believe it, but I felt it. When you lose your sight, your other senses become sharper. That’s why I believe in you now. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Ludger.”
Had going blind opened some kind of sixth sense?
“What if you’re wrong? What if it’s all just your imagination?”
“Then that just means I was foolish. But I wouldn’t regret it.”
“And also...”
“Also?”
“A truly bad person wouldn’t even bother trying to convince me otherwise.”
Pierre’s voice was calm and full of relief as he smiled softly.
Ludger watched him quietly, then pulled his hand from his pocket and offered a polite bow.
“Thank you—for sharing something that must’ve been a painful wound.”
He bowed with respect.
Genuine respect.
Pierre shook his head gently in response.
“I should be the one thanking you. I’ve never been able to open up like this before. Facing a wound I’d been avoiding all this time... maybe that’s why I feel a little lighter now.”
The man before Ludger no longer resembled the awkward youth from the painted memories.
He was a proper mage now—one who had endured his pain and grown stronger for it.
“So I ask you, Ludger. Please... help the young lady and the girl. They may still be out there somewhere, fighting their battles in silence.”
Perhaps Pierre had told Ludger everything out of hope—hope that he might be the one who could help them.
But Ludger could only feel a bitter ache in his chest.
That “young lady,” Esmeralda, was now a vengeful pyromaniac—burning people alive in the name of revenge.
Did Pierre know the truth?
And should Ludger even tell him?
“...I’ll do what I can. Where my hand can reach.”
It was the only answer he could give.
The gentlest response he could offer to someone like Pierre.
“That’s enough.”
With that, it was time to part ways.
Pierre, understanding that as well, turned to head back to his cabin.
But Ludger called out to him from behind.
“You plan to stay here?”
“Yes. I’ll remain here and keep painting.”
“Why?”
“Because someone might come here someday. And if they do, they should hear that there was once a beautiful village in this place. Someone has to tell that story.”
“I see.”
That was the end of their conversation.
Pierre offered a farewell.
He would stay and paint. Until someone else came.
It was the only way he knew to repay the ones who had once reached out a hand to him.
And that noble conviction stirred something quiet in Ludger’s heart.
As Ludger stepped out of the ruins, Hans, who had been waiting nearby, rushed over.
“Boss! Everything go alright? Did you learn anything?”
“I learned something... but not much that’s useful.”
What he’d learned was simply why Esmeralda had turned out the way she had.
“Then we just wasted our time, didn’t we?”
“Not quite.”
Even a single clue made the trip worthwhile.
“Hans. I need you to look into something.”
“Name it.”
“Among the noble families who fled Durmang and went into exile—specifically those known for their magic—find out who they are.”
“That’s gonna be a lot. Any more details to narrow it down?”
“The family has a tradition of blonde hair. The current head of the house would be a man in his early thirties.”
“Hmm. Still vague, but not impossible. I’ll see what I can dig up.”
Now that their business here was done, it was time to return to Seorn.
* * *
Time passed, and the second test was just around the corner.
Instead of the usual lecture hall, the students now stood in the wide-open training ground, their expressions tense.
Before them stood the proctor and supervisor of the test—Ludger Cherish.
“As I already announced, I trust you’ve all prepared thoroughly for today.”
No one answered.
All the students wore firm, resolute faces, awaiting the trial ahead.
“Then let the test begin.”
The second exam—[Magic Manifestation Based on Magic Circles]—had begun.
