By Zephyria 
If Yulan was a country of the vast and cheerful sea, Biban was a country of the solemn and tranquil plains.
The geography and specialties of the five kingdoms, studied long ago, flickered in the back of my memory. Biban, thanks to the abundant water of its large, deep Lake of Memories and its warm, temperate climate, allowed grains to grow easily, but due to the lake’s influence, it was said to be covered in thick fog every early morning, year-round.
Midday, the third Thursday of February.
The party stopped before a jet-black bridge spanning Makabi Cliff.
It was a bridge that had been painted black to avoid detection by others when crossing secretly at night. The black paint had peeled off at every broken or worn section, revealing the pale, faded wood beneath, which made it easy to gauge the danger visually.
The problem was the fog. Despite adjusting our schedule to avoid the notoriously foggy dawn, visibility was still poor. The fog was so thick that nothing could be seen on the other side of the cliff, and the black bridge itself became a hazy blur from the midpoint onward.
A slight commotion arose among the laborers. Fear of the unknown darkened their faces.
What if monsters awaited them on the other side of the bridge, or what if they were attacked by monsters while crossing and couldn’t even notice? It was fortunate that the bridge hadn’t broken or sagged, but with such poor visibility, they couldn’t cross with peace of mind.
Fortunately, we had brought a capable Mage with us.
Instead of offering various explanations, Ruben cast his gaze towards Boulder, who still wore a cheerful smile. Then, in a polite tone, he simply called his name.
“Mage Boulder.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll start by drawing in some wind. Everyone, hold onto your hats tightly.”
Boulder, understanding immediately, excitedly drew his staff and took a stance.
Immediately, centered on Mage Boulder, wind began to blow from the southwest towards the northeast. The gentle breeze quickly found a powerful current. Mana waves rippled, and the fog that had filled their vision was swept away like a sigh.
Whoosh,
Hum,
Thud.
But the joy was short-lived.
The receding fog was trapped in the middle of the cliff, forming a distinct shape as if contained within a glass bottle.
“…What is this…?”
A voice, I didn’t know who it belonged to, reached my ears.
I felt the exact same way. A wall of fog stood from the highest point of the sky down to the dizzying depths of the cliff. The surface of the formed fog was smooth and uniform. It looked as if some colossal being had driven down a giant shield to cleave the world in two.
Mage Boulder’s drooping eyes widened, and his large mouth formed a round ‘O’. He blinked a couple of times, then let out a muffled, dazed voice like a frog on a summer night.
“Uh… the mana is frozen over there? It won’t budge even if I push it.”
“Mana is frozen?”
“So, it’s… it looks like there’s some kind of Magic Circle installed on the other side? But why? Is this even fog? It looks like it’s just capturing and trapping mana… or it could be an earlier stage of some magic implementation. The atmospheric mana density is abnormally high. This should be over 30 mp… The atmospheric mana concentration in the Biban Kingdom usually settles around 10 mp… Uh, uh… this is strange… Even if several Spirits died in Yulan, how could the mana density have risen this much already?”
His muttering was filled with doubt rather than certainty.
Ruben murmured with a grave expression.
“Then the Fly spell won’t work either.”
“Yes. It’ll probably break down the spell formula at that boundary and fall. I can’t do it.”
Next, I decided to try calling the Sylphs.
“Siiilph!”
I called out multiple times, my voice echoing through the cliff, but it was no use.
I called their names, shouted for them to come, and even jumped up and down. Still, no Spirits appeared. More than feeling embarrassed, I was bothered by Ruben’s increasingly serious expression as he watched me, so I deliberately made a great fuss.
However, not even a wisp of wind, let alone a Sylph, appeared.
Now, there was truly only one method left.
Ruben wore a displeased expression, but I, having received a bundle of lumber and ropes for bridge repair from the laborers, merely cleared my throat awkwardly.
If the bridge became unstable, we could just turn back. If it broke, I could grab the broken rope with my strong arms and climb back up. If that rope broke, I could climb the cliff face. At least I was better suited for this than anyone else present.
Wanting to appease Ruben somehow, I gently took his small hand and pulled.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“… .”
“Huh?”
Ruben, who would cling to me and act spoiled in front of his friends or other close nobles, was now putting on a show of dignity in front of the citizens he had to govern. Despite his clearly displeased look, he remained quiet and composed.
But his gaze was burning hot. Ruben simply looked at me and didn’t reply. My neck felt hot, and I grew thirsty.
I called out to him again, seeking permission.
“Rubel.”
Only then did the boy let out a shallow breath and squeeze my hand once before letting go. His gaze was so forlorn and pitiful that my eyes lingered on his long, dark eyelashes as they fell.
“…Yes. Be careful.”
“Understood.”
If I could, I would have liked to stand here looking at him like this forever. But could I? As soon as I received permission, I turned away. My cheeks and ears tingled.
I strode onto the bridge.
Near the entrance of the bridge, there were signs of repeated repairs, but from the middle onward, both the footboards and handrails looked considerably worn. Some ropes were tied and re-tied several times, making them very thick, while others remained as they were, quite thin.
I had wondered what use learning to weave vines at the Academy would be, but it proved very helpful today. I reinforced the thin handrails by weaving or braiding new ropes as I walked. By the time I had crossed two-thirds of the bridge, only half of the original rope bundle remained.
The damp fog seemed to swallow all surrounding sounds, leaving everything in silence.
I was crossing the bridge cautiously.
Scrape.
Scrape, scrape.
Suspicious sounds came from ahead. I immediately looked towards the other end of the bridge. A small shadow, shimmering through the fog, was doing something near the end of the bridge. When I saw it, it saw me too.
It was about the size of a ten-year-old child, with green skin and long, pointed ears.
A Goblin.
One of the two Goblins held a sword in its hand. It was trying to cut the ropes that bound the bridge with a sword as tall as itself. The other Goblin jumped around beside it, causing all sorts of commotion, urging it to hurry.
And then, both of them made eye contact with me.
“Heeek!”
“Kkik! Kkikuk!”
As the Goblin’s startled hiccuping began with a ‘hee’, I immediately lunged forward. In the blink of an eye, one of the bridge’s binding ropes snapped, but at the same moment, my sword split the Goblin in two. After easily dispatching one Goblin, I looked at the other.
The Goblin, its green skin appearing white with fear, rolled to flee, but how could such a small creature escape my grasp? I struck it down with my scabbard. It lay there, unable to resist, and fainted.
A large pack was slung over its back.
Was this a treasure goblin, the kind often seen near the oases of the Shatun Desert?
If so, why was it here? And what was its reason for trying to cut the bridge?
As I pondered, a small disturbance came from the other side of the cliff. Turning back, I saw that one side of the bridge was hanging loosely due to the snapped rope. This seemed to have startled the children on the other side.
I quickly tied the Goblin I had caught to a nearby tree and pulled up the severed rope. I re-secured the broken rope to the fixed stake and wove in the new rope, stabilizing the bridge.
Meanwhile, I expanded my Qi sense to survey the surroundings as much as possible. It was an empty field. I felt no trace of other monsters or people besides this Goblin. After surveying for a while longer, I crossed the bridge again to return to the party.
As soon as Ruben saw my face, he leaped into my arms.
I felt extremely embarrassed, but the feeling of guilt was greater than shame. Seeing his broad shoulders tremble, I felt immense pity and held him close, comforting him for a long time. All of us, including the two of us, endured that time in silence.
My eyes met Ivan’s. He pointed at Ruben with his fingertip, then made a walking motion with his index and middle fingers, pointed at the cliff, and drew a line across his throat. Then, he placed his index finger next to his head and spun it around. The meaning of his gestures was obvious. He was exaggerating, pretending he thought the boy was going to die following me.
It was absurd.
Ruben was far too intelligent and sharp to do something like that without proper confirmation.
I waved my hand, dismissing it. I just smiled wryly.
In any case, the bridge had been repaired, so it was time to cross. I first helped Boulder cross the bridge. Then, I assisted half the laborers and a couple of horses as they crossed in pairs, one after another.
Some horses, thoroughly frightened, whinnied and resisted, but how could they match my strength? I lifted the lead horse overhead and carried it across. After that, all the horses cooperated docilely, allowing me to move them comfortably beyond the cliff.
Next, I watched Ruben and Ivan cross the bridge, and finally, I moved the remaining laborers across.
I brought Boulder over first because he was capable of surviving even if he encountered a monster horde alone. I crossed the bridge multiple times myself to protect the people, anticipating the possibility of flying monsters appearing.
The last two laborers crossed the bridge safely.
The party surrounded the Goblin I had captured and were observing it. Mage Boulder poked the Goblin, urging it to speak, but it remained tied to the tree, its lips sealed, trembling as if in spasms, making no sound.
“Is this a treasure goblin?”
“Well… it does seem a bit larger than a regular Goblin…”
“Even so, it’s not even 120cm. That’s average. It cut the bridge with a sword?”
“Yes. But that sword…”
I showed the sword the dead Goblin had been holding to the party. Ruben’s expression hardened, and Ivan let out a short snort of laughter. Sienna gasped and blinked. The longsword, too unwieldy for a Goblin to handle easily, was originally made for human use.
And on its hilt, a famous emblem, recognizable to all of us, was engraved.
“…This is Imperial-made, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It’s a Grimsvein product.”