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　The chaos of the world. The final destination for those who crossed the continents and mountains to find a safe place to live. It has been more than 30 years since peace came to an abrupt end.


　Just a wandering memory. A city where an overflow of people have settled down in a great power and have been forced to accept it. The rapid increase in the number of people has gradually dissipated, but even so, various maintenance has not yet been completed.

　In order to never leave, the boy pulled away from his sister and wandered further across the city to the big city he ended up in. There were no relatives to rely on, no kind adults to teach him how to survive.
　What could I say about those children - they were vermin, or trash, or even begging to get through the day.

　The whole day today was just a day of asking for coins or food that someone would throw at me on the side of the road.

　The only thing he was allowed to do was to live in the shadows of the main street, to hide in the shadows of the main street to see who would feel sorry for him. The boy didn't want to draw sympathy, he didn't want to live like that. Still, if he did nothing, the human body would stop working. It is not possible to live by willpower alone.
　He no longer felt such shame. The boy has given up his resistance to drawing pity, and today he is still living by someone else's mercy.

　They are the ones who basked in the light of life. From their point of view, a child like the boy is nothing more than a bump on their eye. There is no other way to get rid of them but to steal.

　As soon as you step into the back of the crowded marketplace, as if it were another world, boys who share your situation will come out and take away your food.

　It's a child's idea to attract attention in a clever way and then steal from them, but it's not a matter of praise or non-praise if it fills you up as a result of the day's work.

　But the boy had a sister. He was the older brother who always took his sister by the hand and showed her the way ahead. He scavenges for leftover food and desperately begs for things. He always fed his sister first for the food and other things he got from it.
　Surely stealing would fill his empty stomach with something a little better, but the boy would not let go of his sister's hands.

　Because this hand would make way for his sister.

'Latifa, watch your step, there's some scrap wood.
'Yes!　It's okay, big brother.

　His dry lips are cut off like a crack in places, and every time he opens his mouth, the tops of Latifah's closed eyelids tremble. All the time, another new wound on his leg.
　He doesn't say anything when he hooks his foot, having just paid attention to his brother who guides him to show him the way when he sees it.

　Once you make a wound, though, it's hard to heal.
　


　The sister, who is blind, cannot live without her brother, the boy. And the sister knew that her brother was putting himself first and cheating his way through the last few days with only water. It's a good thing he doesn't have eyes to see, because it seems to be a deliberate act, and it's normal for him to spout out the flimsy lie of 'half'.
　Only my brother's voice gives my vision a warm color in the pitch blackness. That's why I understand.

　Latifah always thought of death because she knew the process of someone's death. His sense of hearing and smell had developed instead of his eyes, or he could smell it. The strange smell of a person's approaching death - that's why he didn't open his mouth, even if it hurt.
　At the very least, he could see that his brother was getting weaker and weaker every day because of the resistance, the baggage that was himself. Many times I say thank you in my heart and hope that my brother will let go of this hand.

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　If you are a mage, you are used to the clear, outside air. The sight that should be there is a reminder of gratitude and longing.
　That's why a mage would not be unaware of it. It was easy to imagine how much high-level magic must have been unleashed on this whole area. This was before he could perceive the glittering, empty particles.
　The residue of it that had finished its role as magic power danced in the air, like star dust.

　It is a particle that is not influenced by the concept of it as a substance, but it fills up the entire area to the point that one is hesitant to inhale it. The residue of magic power is like burning debris, so to speak. The amount of residue that is produced far exceeds the amount of residue that disappears as it gradually dissolves into the air.


　I'm sure it can only be described as a magical war. I'm not going to be able to say that I'm not going to be able to get it right.

　No one can or will stop it.
　Rather, as long as you can see it, even if you're watching from a great distance, you can't help but feel yourself in danger. Such a battle.


　I'm not going to be able to say that I'm not going to be able to get the best out of it.

　It's a good thing that you're able to get your hands on the best possible deals.

''Your eyes are so f*cking depressing.

　Not caring about such a rant, Crockel says peacefully, "Well, we went out. I'm going to be able to ask you the answer. The question itself was a manner of stamping out a price apart from the emotions that made him somewhat buoyant.

　With a sigh, Ars catches his breath once and begins to speak. He looks into Krokel's blue eyes and spits evasively. If you're willing to listen, then this is a good opportunity to break out of this rigid battle.
　Besides, it would be useful information if Crockel would politely answer the analysis of what the opponent did.

　Ars himself knew that it was a pale one. He could analyze the phenomenon as he saw and felt it just by saying it.

'Rewriting the constructed magic, right?'

　His face is as meek as a child's solving a riddle, pushing out radiant emotions. It's a face that even looks impressed beyond interest.

　However, it still doesn't seem right to Ars.
　Magic is composed of magic as a source of power. In other words, it's like it's also composed by personal information. To put it simply, you can interfere with the composition of magic, but I can assure you that it is impossible to rewrite it.
　The only thing that can interfere with the composition of magic is the magic power that belongs to it, and it can only be done with magic.

　So, this is a power of a different quality.

''[Hekuatla's Blue Eyes]
'You really are amazing. You can get to a story like that that doesn't even exist. Maybe the blue eyes of Hekuatla are just something someone came up with on their own...
'Fool, there's a real Salem ship's eye in the eye of Provillebens. It's not going to raise any eyebrows.
'Well, you've seen Ilyce's eyes, haven't you? Heh, I knew something was up, but I didn't know you knew that much... yeah, you're right. You're right. Mostly because I'm the only one who expressed it about Hekuatla's blue eyes.
"Then why is it called the magic eye that rewrites magic?

　'I see,' said Crockel, a slightly mischievous smile on his cheeks.

''I was the one who spread that. The rumor of the magic eye spread in the blink of an eye when I spread the information around. The magic eye has existed since ancient times. It was even called a devil's messenger or even an apostle. It was said that they would eventually manifest themselves and show their deeds in exchange for death. The representative of this is the [Ship-Eye of Salem] that controls life. There was also the Provillebens, but that's just the way it seemed.
..........

　Ars doesn't immediately find the meaning of spreading it. The demon eye was a kind of forced protection as a subject to be examined. After that, no one should be stupid enough to come forward on their own.
　And moreover, the evil eye basically causes considerable pain and death to the person when it appears. There are rare cases of it as well, so it's hard to decide how much to trust it.

''It's also to find your compatriots. Of course, it's not very useful, because even the person in question doesn't know about the magic eye until it appears. They would die sooner or later.''
Then you are....

　Interrupting Ars's doubts, Crockel abruptly changed the topic.

''Well then, what about 【Ezeforge's Lacquer Eyes】? My [Hekuatla's Blue Eyes] can see magic in colors and symbols. I can pick up the constructed information without touching it.

　With a twitch, the corners of Ars's eyes reacted. The fact that he possessed this much knowledge of the demon eye was strange in itself, and it seemed to be something Ars had to hear.

　Crokel's eyes, which seemed to be flickering, had a string of letters floating in the back of his eyeballs.

'The fog of death, the beast that lures you to death. That's what they said. Haze on the eyeballs, doesn't that sound familiar?　You have the Lacquer Eye of Isefolue in your eyes.
"--!　I don't know.

　The cooing, eerie smile was looking at Ars with eyes that seemed to see through everything.

　The one who was most surprised was Ars himself. It would be a lie to say that he had never suspected it at all. It is a power that was originally researched as an extraordinary ability.
　The only thing that's clear is that there's no way to figure out something that can't be figured out by any legitimate method, or at least not in modern magical and xenophobic related research. The only thing we know is that there is a total loss of information on magic power, or that there is no matching [lost letter (lost spell)].

　So when I had the opportunity to study Linne's magic eye, it passed through my mind. That the 【Lost Spell】 that appears in her eyes does not match the existing one and is unreadable.

There's no way to check if it's not me. But I know you better than you. The fact that you are alive proves that you are the possessor of the magical eye.