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Perhaps fearing it would be disrespectful to question him further, Eliza reluctantly held her tongue.

However, I felt a sense of unease at his words.

“If you’ve analyzed them, does that mean someone from the church has already made contact with the ‘Red Ram’?”
“No, Sister Clara. Our findings come from a thorough investigation of the residual magical waves left at the crime scenes.”

An investigation? In such a short time, were they really able to visit the scene, examine the residual mana waves from the past, and conduct such a detailed analysis? …How suspiciously efficient.

“…I see. So, based on that, it has been determined that the culprit possesses only innate abilities. In that case, does the Red Ram’s skill to steal abilities also count as an innate ability?”
“Yes. That is our conclusion.”

Father Lawrence nodded without the slightest hesitation. I see—

“How intriguing. If I were to name that ability, I suppose I’d call it Talent Eater.”

“What do you mean, ‘I suppose I’d call it Talent Eater’?! Don’t give me that! Can’t you at least show some sense of urgency, Adelheid?! Even if they’re specialized in just one area, the fact that they wield multiple abilities makes them practically no different from a magician! And that’s the kind of person who’s targeting us!”

Eliza, clearly exasperated, turned to the others for support before stepping closer to confront me.

“…That impression was uncannily accurate,” Cestlavie muttered, sounding deeply impressed.

…Huh? Wait a moment. Do I really tilt my head and talk in such a lazy, annoying way all the time…?

“That’s not the point!” Perhaps overhearing Cestlavie’s remark, Eliza shot him a deeply irritated glare before turning back to me.

“No matter how versatile we are—well, in your case, you’re just a jack-of-all-trades—our spellcasting is still limited to three or four types at most. But our opponent can steal multiple abilities and use them at will! Don’t you see how overwhelming that advantage is, Adelheid?! And what are you doing, counting on your fingers?!”

For reference, I can use the common Neutral magic that anyone can wield, as well as Fire, Water, Light, and Air. I also have a solid grasp of elven spirit magic, and if I include talisman-based techniques, my repertoire expands even further.

“…And yet, even now, you’re just standing there looking all relaxed! Do you not feel any sense of danger?!”

Well, to be honest, I don’t feel particularly threatened.

Even if a warrior could wield a sword, axe, spear, mace, dagger, martial arts, bow, staff, whip, and knuckles, they wouldn’t be able to use all of them in a single fight. No matter how many weapons one has at their disposal, in the end, they only have one body—two hands, two feet. There are limits.

The same applies to me. Even though I can wield multiple magic attributes, the best I can do simultaneously is something like fire in my right hand, ice in my left. (I’ve tried experimenting to see if I could combine them into some kind of ultimate technique, but no luck.) It’s like drawing a manga with both hands at once, it’d be far easier and more accurate to just use my dominant hand.

In the end, despite the effort it takes to master multiple skills, my conclusion is disappointingly straightforward: specializing in one ability and making it your own is far more efficient, and your growth is much faster.

“Well, of course, being forced into a defensive position is never ideal. However, in the end, battles favor those with numbers on their side. And besides, with so many dependable people here to protect me, I don’t feel particularly anxious.”

I said this with mostly genuine gratitude and gave a polite nod to those around me. The templar knights and members of Twinfang of the Snowy Peaks exchanged glances before nodding back with a satisfied, confident air.

…Meanwhile, Cestlavie, Deputy Guildmaster Tarki, Kaisa, and Sir Simon all exchanged subtle smiles—half amusement, half exasperation.

Honestly. How unfortunate it must be to lack the ability to trust in the goodwill of others.

♢♦♢♦♢

“…Where is this place?”

Before he knew it, Colin found himself standing at a street corner that felt both familiar and unfamiliar. He looked around, his expression puzzled.

Night had fallen deep, and the thick fog—Thera Maryth’s infamous mist—shrouded his surroundings, obscuring his vision. The only light illuminating his path was the dim glow leaking from the handheld night lantern he carried.

The lantern was a simple contraption: a cylindrical metal casing with small perforations, housing a wick made from the pith of lampgrass soaked in animal fat. It was lightweight, affordable, and easy to handle. However, compared to magical tools or even standard lanterns, its light was feeble and unreliable.

Still, this was a road he had walked countless times. Normally, there was no reason for him to get lost. And yet, when he took a closer look at his surroundings, the streets before him were different from the ones he usually traversed.

Frowning, he decided to use a large building’s shadow and the faintly glowing animal fat street lamp in front of it as landmarks, making his way forward.

“Huh…? Wait, is this the Adventurers’ Guild headquarters?”

Not just vaguely familiar—Colin was now staring at the very building where he had been confined just hours ago. His voice came out dumbfounded.

“Why the hell did I end up here…?”

Even if he had lost his way, this was an absurd detour. The headquarters of the Adventurers’ Guild was in nearly the opposite direction from his boarding house.

Still, now that he knew where he was, Colin let out a small sigh of relief.

“…People are still inside? Well, I suppose that’s to be expected.”

Despite the late hour, lights still flickered here and there within the building. Colin looked up at it, his expression complicated.

Ordinarily, shops closed as soon as the sun set, and even restaurants that stayed open relatively late would usually shut down three to four hours before midnight. The guild was no different. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be bustling this late.

The reason for the exception, Colin already knew. The mysterious phantom thief currently making waves in the Holy City had set their sights on a certain shrine maiden, widely regarded as the city’s second most beautiful, though still trailing behind the top spot by about three lengths. The guild members had stayed behind to guard her.

Wouldn’t it be better if he remained here, too? Wouldn’t that be the proper stance to take as a journalist? The thought struck him, and for a moment, Colin found himself stepping toward the guild.

But—

“…The chief said they’d handle things on their end. I shouldn’t interfere… should I?” Recalling his editor-in-chief’s words, he hesitated. Half-relieved, half-frustrated, he turned on his heel—only to be interrupted.

“Hey! Colin, what are you doing here?”

Thud!

A firm slap landed on his back, nearly sending him stumbling forward. Quickly regaining his footing, he spun around in surprise.

There stood a girl with violet hair, dressed in a light brown cashmere coat, a neatly trimmed skirt, and velvet shoes.

“M-Maria Lou…?” Colin blinked rapidly at the familiar face, a girl around his own age.

“It was getting late, so I came to fetch you, Colin. I didn’t expect to find you lost in a place like this, though.” She beamed at him, her golden-brown eyes narrowing playfully.

Colin, suddenly self-conscious, awkwardly adjusted the brim of his newsboy cap.

Somewhere in the distance, a cat let out a faint meow.

♢♦♢♦♢

Inside the “Hazardous Materials Storage” beneath the Adventurers’ Guild—

“…You’re late! Just how long do you plan on keeping me waiting, you dimwits of the Adventurers’ Guild?! Do you have any idea how much stress Lady Clara is under, worrying for my safety? I demand an official protest!”
“Well, as long as you’re in here, there’s not much we can do about it… Besides, you’re wrapped up like a mummy in magically-treated wire.”

The tiny figure—who gave off an air of carefree insincerity—shrugged theatrically and shook his head as he looked at the maid, who was completely bound in threads of pure silver.

“You there, hobbit! If you’re really the Guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild, then doesn’t that mean all responsibility for this mess lies within a one-merte radius of you?!”
“Whoa, now! Look, I’m just a figurehead—the real power lies with the executives. And honestly, I hate dealing with important folks or religious types, so I usually just hide down here whenever they show up.”

The tiny man lifted himself off the treasure chest he had been sitting on, flashing a sheepish grin.

Coppelia, still wrapped up tightly, glared at him with dangerous eyes.

“…Hearing you say that just makes me even angrier. Fine! I’ll knock you flat before I escape!”
“Wait, huh? No—uh, how exactly?”
“Hah! The mere thought that this could restrain me is laughable. I could boil tea on my navel from how ridiculous it is! Any proper maid worth her salt must master the art of escaping captivity! Even if she can’t clean or do laundry, breaking free from restraints is child’s play!”
“…No, but seriously, if you’re a maid, shouldn’t you learn cleaning and laundry first?”

Ignoring the small man’s reasonable retort, Coppelia tensed up—no, she completely relaxed her body.

“Behold! Victor School Escape Technique—‘Maid Osteopathy!’”

In the next instant—

“HNNNAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

—Before the horrified guildmaster’s eyes, Coppelia’s entire body came apart, her limbs and torso disassembling into pieces.

“BWAAAH?! Some weird connector came loose! I’m all tangled up!! Ooooooohh!!” With a ridiculous shriek, Coppelia’s dismembered body parts tumbled to the floor in a heap.