Beneath the winter valley, the smile of the white-haired girl shone even more beautifully than the moonlight.
For some reason, as he gazed at that sight, Alan felt an unplaceable fire well up from deep in his heart. That fire left his mind numb, and his whole body chilled.
As a swordsman, his hand that grasped the sword ought to always be steady.
Yet under the cover of the night, Alan's hand was faintly trembling.
This had only happened twice before—similar yet completely different.
Similar, because both times it was under the same person's gaze.
Different, because the emotions in her eyes were entirely opposite.
The first time, in a dream, the green-haired girl's gaze was dull and lifeless.
The second time, here at the bottom of the valley, the white-haired girl's eyes burned with a bright, fervent flame.
Her scorching gaze intertwined with the fire in Alan's chest, making him unbearably unsettled. Instinctively, he reached out as if to touch Sylphy's hair, now turned snow-white from mana exhaustion.
But his hand froze in midair.
In that moment, his eyes fell on her hair, and he suddenly understood why his heart had caught fire.
It was because of that crumpled "memo" in the drawer at the Greyrat house.
Over the past year, countless lines of "future vision" written over and over, each one an unending interrogation of his own heart.
Should he abandon the future vision? Should he change the future?
Should he prevent the calamity? Could he avert Paul's death in the story he now walked? Could Zenith's laughter continue ringing through the Greyrat home?
And…
If the calamity could be prevented, then…
Could Sylphy's hair have avoided turning white?
If she hadn't been teleported into the sky, could she have avoided mana exhaustion, and kept her beautiful long green hair?
Yet now, before the calamity even arrived—thinking he still had time to choose—her hair had already turned white.
Earlier than the original story, under Alan's gaze, with the butterfly's wings already having stirred up a storm.
Without even giving him a chance to react.
Alan's thoughts raced.
But Sylphy moved even faster.
As he was caught in his whirlwind of thoughts, a pair of soft little hands wrapped around his raised hand.
Alan looked up at Sylphy. She wore a faintly apologetic look as she gently guided his hand to rest against her snow-white hair.
He was speechless with surprise.
Yet the girl, visibly fatigued, gave him a small, somewhat shy smile.
Alan's hand was large and calloused from sword practice. That familiar roughness gave Sylphy a reassuring sense of safety.
A green glow arose from her palm, spreading to cover Alan's body.
A chantless healing spell.
In the night, the white-haired girl's voice was soft yet weary.
"Alan… you looked scary just now. I know with your skills, you could've kept yourself safe—that's why you thought of throwing me aside in the air. But…"
She looked into his eyes, her words apologetic but her gaze resolute.
"I was still worried… how's the wound on your back? Has it healed? I've been practicing healing diligently, you know? I can even cast chantless now. You once said that when I got good at it, I could heal you. But you always use techniques that put such strain on your body…"
"What I mean is…"
"Maybe, Alan… maybe you need me too."
Alan stared blankly at her, and suddenly realized that his butterfly wings had long since whipped up a storm.
Over this year, Sylphy hadn't just mimicked his expressions or Roxy's manner of speaking.
Even her personality had changed from the original. Though she still had a kind core, her stubborn streak—her refusal to yield once she made up her mind—had already begun to show, freed from the shadow of childhood inferiority.
In the original story, that stubbornness only clearly surfaced in her devotion to Ariel's grace and friendship, while she was mostly just gentle and understanding around Rudeus.
Yet in the later timeline, it was evident—when Rudeus crumbled after Roxy's death, she still followed Ariel and Luke to the capital without hesitation, even at the cost of her life.
While he was still lost in thought, her soft body slumped against his chest.
Alan snapped back to himself.
"Sylphy?"
"It's okay… I'm just a little tired. My mana's almost gone. Sorry… at least I managed one last healing."
Holding her, Alan felt something inside him ready to spill over, but now wasn't the time.
The stench of monsters still lingered in the air around them.
Sylphy opened her mouth to say more, but Alan flicked her forehead and then gently tucked her into a small hollow he carved out in the cliff wall with a swift, controlled burst of douki.
Even as she flusteredly covered her face, he placed her down carefully.
"This way, even if the monsters tunnel through the cliff, you'll notice them early. Anyway, this happened because of my plan—so just rest easy and leave the rest to me."
Sylphy peeked through her fingers, catching sight of Alan's back as he turned away.
His arm rose into the darkness…
The blade swung!
Ripples of wind swept out, tearing through the sea of monsters that had already crept close without them noticing, reducing them to a bloody mist.
Flesh and blood rained down on him.
His voice drifted back to Sylphy.
"Close your eyes. Rest. Regain your mana."
"Don't look. Don't listen. Don't think."
In the thick darkness beyond his silhouette, countless crimson eyes glowed, like a swarm of bees spreading through the valley with no end in sight.
The monsters were terrifying, but Sylphy only looked at Alan's back—his wounds were already healed.
She let out a relieved breath, and obediently closed her eyes.
"Alright. But… my next healing might take a long time to prepare…"
"It's fine. I've still got plenty of energy."
"…That's a lie. Teacher said in her letter you like to lie, you know."
"Trust me. All you need to do is wait."
Sylphy leaned against the rock, lips curved in a quiet smile.
"Okay, I'll trust you. But… how long will I have to wait?"
"…Mana exhaustion takes at least a night to recover. So, you'll have to wait…"
In the darkness, Alan smiled faintly, facing the rising and falling tide of monsters.
He raised his broken blade high.
The monsters howled!
The beast tide surged!
The earth trembled!
And his words rang out, firm and loud, cutting through the night air!
"Fight till dawn!!"
(End of Chapter)
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