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“Wow, amazing! Is this a secret room?”
“My line of work involves… many conversations best kept out of earshot.”
“I’m surprised it survived the fire… Ah, magic, of course.”

I couldn’t help myself and crouched down to examine the magic circle at our feet. Even after being engulfed in that blaze, it didn’t have a single scorch mark on it.

Despite leading to a stone-carved staircase below, there wasn’t the faintest trace of heat lingering. Just dousing it with water or chilling it with ice wouldn’t have been enough for this.

“It’s the blessing of Metis, God of wisdom. A spell meant to protect things that serve as vessels of knowledge—books, pens, and the like—from malice.”
“I see. So Momo isn’t covered.”
“Master?”
“I don’t mind talking, but why just me and the Guildmaster?”
“I will explain more in the basement. If you’re feeling cautious, you may bring one companion.”
“Momo, you’re with me.”
“Eh? Are you sure I’m the right choice?”
“You’re not going to remember the details anyway.”
“Master? Even I cry sometimes, you know?”

The truth was, choosing Momo was just process of elimination. I didn’t want to involve the Saint, who I could never afford to let my guard down around, nor any of the academy students.

Besides, the Guildmaster and his lot were Rigel locals. I had no idea what this talk was going to be about, but if I had to pick someone to accompany me, it had to be someone without any particular emotional stake in this city.

“Mind your step as you go down. …Not you, Mintark, feel free to trip.”
“You bald b̲a̲s̲t̲a̲r̲d̲…!!”
“Oh my, oh dear. It seems neither of you have learned your lesson, have you?”
“ “……” ”

Faced with the Saint’s dazzling yet oppressive smile, the two men—who just moments ago had been ready to fight—instantly lost all will to argue.

Their shoulders slumped, and as they quietly descended the stairs, their backs looked somehow smaller than usual.

“Ms. Momo, those two aren’t bad people… but do be careful, alright?”
“Of course! If it looks like they’re about to start fighting again, I’ll stop them no matter what!”
“No, that’s not what I meant. They just don’t realize how little stamina Ms. Laika has. This underground passage seems rather long.”
“Master, shall I carry you?”
“How very kind of you, but no thanks. I’m going ahead.”

Leaving Momo behind mid-conversation with the Saint—who, frankly, should’ve been offended—I leapt straight down into the underground passage.

From the echo of our footsteps earlier, I already had a rough estimate of the depth. Even with my stamina, I could make it down just fine.

After all, I could just fly over all these steps.

“Hurry up, or I’m leaving you behind.”
“Master, if you don’t walk properly, your stamina won’t improve, you know?”
“…I’ll start trying tomorrow.”

✦✧✦✧✦

“We’re here. So, what’s this about?”
“Thank you for coming. This way, please.”

After descending the stairs with Momo in tow, we found Runira already waiting for us below, seated at a table covered in writing tools and stacks of paper.

For a basement, the room was surprisingly spacious, without that usual sense of claustrophobia. Light from magic stones embedded in the ceiling cast a steady glow.

It had a faint dusty smell, but it clearly hadn’t been abandoned for years. There were signs of regular upkeep, however minimal.

“What I wish to ask is about the girl you fought—the one who called herself War, if I recall correctly…”
“That’s right. Pale skin, blue hair, and she wielded strange powers—throwing rocks, animating golems, that sort of thing.”
“And she was really cute, too!”
“Quiet, you.”
“I see… War, was it…? And her abilities match the description… then perhaps…”

After hearing our account, Runira immediately buried himself in the book in front of him, flipping through the pages with feverish focus.

Though the book looked brand new, I could sense faint traces of magical power on the cover. It was likely protected by Metis’ magic, same as this basement.

“I apologize, Lady Laika. Runira’s always been like this…”
“Huh, you know him pretty well for a pair that’s always at each other’s throats, Guildmaster. Rotten or not, a friend’s still a friend, is that it?”
“…As bitter as it is to admit, you’re not wrong. The man gets on my nerves just by existing, and yet I even remember the exact blend of tea he prefers.”

Though his eyes were pointed toward Runira flipping through pages, the Guildmaster’s gaze seemed to drift somewhere far away. It was the look of someone recalling a distant past—with a trace of regret.

“So, what exactly is he looking up? That book of his looks like a rare piece of literature.”
“Master, there’s all sorts of complicated stuff written in here! I can’t read any of it!”
“You—what are you doing just helping yourself to—wait…”

I’d started to scold Momo for peeking so shamelessly over Runira’s shoulder, but my words trailed off.

It would be one thing if the contents were simply too technical for her to understand. That much I could believe, Momo wasn’t exactly the scholarly type.

But unreadable? That was something else entirely. In this world—no, in this day and age, that shouldn’t even be possible.

“Runira! You’re in the presence of guests, ones you invited no less! Show some courtesy and lift your head!”
“Ah—yes, my apologies. A bad habit of mine.”
“No, don’t worry about it. But if you don’t mind… could I take a look at that book?”
“I suppose… if you wish.”

He hesitated, but eventually handed the book over.

I calmed my quickening breath and carefully flipped through a few pages. As I suspected, the characters etched into the paper were like nothing I’d ever seen.

“…I see. No wonder it’s unreadable. These letters—Babel’s power has no effect on them.”

Just as Momo had said, I couldn’t make sense of a single word on the page.

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