Gardenia’s Heart

By deliberately returning home for the chance to speak with the floating woman without worrying anyone, of all the answers she might have received, Rose had not expected those words.

“What? They can’t use magic!?”

Kneeling on the couch, Rose stared at the floating woman with an alarmed expression.

Seeing her granddaughter’s explosive reaction, a mix of surprise and excitement appeared on Sylvan’s face.

Floating gently down to the floor, her black boots touched the polished carpet without making a sound. Adjusting the wide black hat on her head, the woman whose red hair fell like a cascade began her lesson.

(To prepare a spell, a mage must regulate the mana output of their reservoir using their imaginary muscles in a specific configuration. The more complex the spell, the more symbols must be produced.)

Waving her index finger in the air, Sylvan walked back and forth, a bright smile on her face.

(You, Rose, and my daughter, for example, can skip part of this process by consuming monsters along with your innate abilities. Your bodies transform the traits those individuals were born with into symbols and engrave them naturally within yourselves. That way, you bypass the learning stage and turn what should have been an inborn characteristic into magic that can be used.)

Pausing briefly to make sure Rose was following, Sylvan finally reached the point she wanted to address.

(Dragons are beings that naturally absorb large amounts of mana from their surroundings. However, their mana reservoirs are so colossal that shaping their own mana into millimeter-precise forms using imaginary muscles is extremely complex—bordering on impossible.)

This time, Sylvan’s words made Rose frown slightly. The Archmage did not miss that small, adorable gesture of confusion.

(I know what you’re thinking, but the dragon who fought your mothers created those tornadoes simply because the atmospheric conditions were ideal. It was a feat based purely on strength, without any spell behind it. Because of that, even simple magic is extremely difficult for them. And something complex like the portals my daughter uses? Completely impossible.)

Making a large X with both arms and seeing Rose engaged in a lesson for the first time in a long while, the red-haired woman could not help but smile.

(Let’s see… Bahamut, Tiamat, and Ignis are probably the only ones currently in Athamas whose mana reservoirs exceed my daughter’s. The others have between half and a quarter of that. That alone matches what an elite human mage possesses on average, which makes them dangerous opponents—but there is a problem.)

Sylvan raised a single finger.

(Just like your mother, dragons can mimic a humanoid form. But unlike my daughter, that does not adapt their mana reservoirs or their imaginary muscles. Not even in their pseudo-human form can they use spells. Therefore, they rely entirely on their overwhelming physical strength and innate abilities to fight.)

Her grandmother’s explanation made Rose pause in thought.

If they could not use spells, then abilities like her mothers’—which could manipulate space and time—made it understandable why dragons would not actively try to invade other peoples.

Still, there was something she did not understand.

“Even so… even without spells, that dragon who attacked us during the trip seemed powerful. I mean, he revived several times before finally staying down. I can’t imagine anyone other than my mothers defeating something like that—not even a large army. Wouldn’t it be enough for them to just keep coming back to life until the mages fighting them couldn’t endure anymore?”

Rose’s question was so impressive to Sylvan that the great mage struggled not to bounce lightly in place out of excitement. Taking several deep breaths to calm herself and maintain the face of a reliable teacher, she quickly began explaining after clearing her throat with a small cough.

(You see, even an inexperienced human mage, without the use of mana potions, can replenish their mana if they rest for a few days. A dragon takes at least a decade.)

Rose’s eyes widened.

(Just like Nerine—the young woman who lives inside the World Tree that your mother once told you about—absorbs mana from the atmosphere to nourish herself, though in a far less extreme way, dragons also require part of the mana they absorb to sustain themselves. So not everything they take in goes to their reservoir. But that alone isn’t what creates the problem, of course. The amount of mana in the air—even in this land that is extremely rich in mana—being absorbed by all dragons at the same time also plays a role.)

Phaea in general, and especially Athamas, was a part of the world where a dense quantity of natural mana accumulated. That alone made it a rich and perfect land for creatures that needed it to maintain their colossal bodies without constantly hunting to sustain their metabolism. However, with so many beings competing for the same mana, a reduction in the speed at which their reservoirs filled was inevitable.

(Of course, not every dragon is a combatant and requires that much mana. Their reservoirs vary in size depending on how long they have trained, and because of that, not all of them possess enough mana to restore their entire bodies if fatally wounded. For many, if their neck were completely severed or their heart pierced once, that would be the end.)

Unlike monsters, which required dark mana to maintain their existence, dragons needed mana to meet their metabolic needs. However, by increasing the amount of mana stored within themselves, the simple regeneration provided by dragon blood could turn into extra lives to be used in moments of necessity.

(To survive death that many times, healing such massive wounds… the dragon your mothers fought had at least the equivalent of two or three centuries’ worth of mana in his reservoir. That’s another reason dragons avoid sharing their blood so much.)

Rose swallowed.

Two or three centuries.

That was not merely the time he had been alive, but the amount of time Fafnir had actively devoted to absorbing mana into his reservoir.

(For example, even a small vial of mana-infused blood from Tiamat—like the one Elarielle used in her laboratory during Thelira’s treatment—must have contained the equivalent of five or even ten years of accumulated mana, since it was extracted in humanoid form. For Tiamat, it may be only an infinitesimal fraction, as her reservoir can accumulate mana for centuries. But for other dragons, giving that up would be the same as having to gather years of mana from scratch again, leaving themselves exposed to dangers that could prove fatal.)

For a dragon capable of accumulating only a single decade’s worth of mana, there would be no sense in parting with their blood and subjecting themselves to the risk of being hunted for profit. Refusing to share their blood under the justification that it was a sign of weakness rather than cowardice was, more than anything else, an act of self-preservation.

“Are there many combatant dragons?” Rose asked, trying to reflect on everything she had heard.

(Absorbing such a vast amount is certainly not easy. Since we are in times of peace, battles do not occur so frequently or on a large scale, so they are not forced to expend their mana constantly. Even so, there are few dragons with a reservoir large enough to accumulate more than eighty or ninety years’ worth of mana.)

Sylvan twirled her fingers in the air once more as she spoke, excitement resonating in her voice.

(Most combatant dragons can regenerate their entire bodies once or twice at most. Cases like Fafnir, who managed to accumulate the equivalent of ten lives, are an exception.)

Not all dragons were combatants, which made them rely on capable individuals rather than attempting to build a large army.

(In any case, what I wanted to explain with all this is that, since only a few individuals in each clan truly possess significant strength, unless all the clans unite, it is very difficult for them to face another nation on their own.)

With their species’ military power divided among the clans, it would be extremely risky for a single clan to declare war on another nation by itself. That was why Ignis hoped to become the leader of the Wing Clan and secure the support of the Fang Clan and the Scale Clan before attempting anything directly against the elves.

“I see…”

Lying back down on the couch, Rose shyly hugged a pillow, covering her face.

(You don’t usually ask so many questions about something. Is something worrying you?)

Noticing her granddaughter’s expression, Sylvan walked to the side of the couch, sitting down and gently brushing the girl’s silver hair, even though her transparent fingers passed through it.

“Ever since you taught me to look for weaknesses, I started constantly paying attention to those things…”

Though only slightly, having Sylvan comfort her in her own way calmed the little girl, who began to speak with difficulty.

“That woman Mama Nia went to fight…”

Hugging the pillow even tighter, a worried and apprehensive expression spread across her small face.

“She doesn’t have any weaknesses.”

---

A supersonic impact echoed the instant a girl’s body was sent flying through the crimson aurora.

Spinning hundreds of times within a single second, the beautiful young woman in a black dress with purple hair clenched her teeth.

Black thunder tore across the sky.

Defying gravity and inertia itself, four black wings emerged from Nia’s back. Both the original pair and the newly created extra pair beat violently, as if giving their all to protect their master.

At last, hundreds of meters away from where she had been moments before, the girl finally managed to stabilize herself in the air.

“Come on, with that level of effort you won’t be able to scratch me even if I gave you an entire year.”

The bold voice came from the colossal labyrinth floating before her.

Shouting from atop one of the enormous stone pillars, a beautiful woman with a wheat-colored braid stared at the girl flying beyond the limits of the island that resembled a dead star.

“Drelkos died to this level of strength?” Bahamut sighed.

Frowning, Nia’s crimson eyes fixed intensely on the dragon woman.

“Simulation nineteen, depletion of mana reservoir,” the girl whispered.

At her side, a hundred black ice crystals formed, each beginning to rotate at high speed around the crimson aurora.

Thanks to the crystal scales—Bahamut’s innate ability—all of Nia’s spells were reflected with the same force with which they were cast.

After testing combinations with every element she could operate, Nia realized that the reflection did not distinguish between elements, but rather reacted to mana and dark mana themselves upon contact, merely altering the amount of mana used to energize the scales.

That meant that regardless of the element she used, all would be reflected the same way. Because of that, using what she could execute with the greatest speed and ease was best.

Without even a gesture of her fingers, the hundred ice crystals shot toward Bahamut.

Impact after impact, a dense cloud of dust rose from the cold-toned stone pillar. Like an earthquake descending from the heavens, the enormous pillar—hundreds of meters tall—began to slowly crumble from top to bottom.

Individually, each black ice crystal was repelled back, but thanks to her barrier, her own attack posed no problem.

With her mana-location, Nia knew that the amount of mana Bahamut possessed was dozens of times greater than her own. However, that did not mean she could not exhaust it.

If she continued to expend all of her dark mana to drain even a single bucket from the hero’s ocean of mana, eventually she might overcome the crystal scales.

“Boriiiiiiiiing!”

An annoyed voice echoed above the explosions of ice crystals.

Bending her knees, Bahamut leapt with a heavy impact, ivory wings beating violently until she was immediately in front of Nia.

Widening her eyes, Nia tried to lean backward toward the portal forming behind her. However, before she could, a large white tail smashed the barrier surrounding her and grabbed her by the waist, the sound of bones breaking soon following.

“If you keep using boring strategies, you’re really going to lower my expectations of you!” Shouting so loudly her voice thundered across the sky, Bahamut spun her body violently.

Immobilized by the scaled tail, Nia saw the world spin once more as she was hurled toward the island.

Without even being able to slow the impact with her four wings, the purple-haired metamorph collided against multiple rocks at high speed.

Impact after impact, purple blood splattered around, both earth and vegetation turning into a cloud of debris as Nia’s body smashed across the island.

“Novice!”

Running toward the enormous crater that had formed in the ground, a pink-haired boy had to raise a hand to his face at the nauseating sight that awaited him.

At the center of the final impact site, what any onlooker could only describe as an undeniably dead body lay still.

The waist, completely torn apart, separated the torso from the legs, connected only by a grotesque link of entrails and viscera. Pools of purple blood flowed from both the mangled wound and the pinkish skin that had been sliced open with every impact.

“Hey, Mom, you went too far!” Wisteria shouted irritably toward the woman who approached, flying indifferently.

Unmoved by the boy’s anger, Bahamut merely crossed her arms, staring at the ruined body.

Slowly, a sound like water reaching its boiling point began to fill the air. Like a waterfall reversing its course, every drop of purple blood scattered across the plains flowed back into what should have been a corpse.

Along with the violet vortex, like opposite magnetic poles snapping together, both torso and legs rejoined once more.

“Fifteen seconds. You’ve already cut the time in half, but you can do better.”

Bahamut murmured, watching the girl rise to her feet while brushing dirt from her body with difficulty.

“N-Novice, are you already okay?” Trying to check on her, Wisteria—now lifted upside down by a white tail—asked.

Without even a strand of hair out of place, Nia bore none of the wounds she had seconds earlier.

“Up until now, you were healing by relying on the nature of your species. But now that you can also produce dragon blood, your body will naturally lean toward what’s more efficient.” Leaning forward, Bahamut whistled in surprise, prompting Nia to take several steps back. “Unless you completely run out of dark mana, you won’t die—no matter how fatal the wound.”

Though she wanted to frown at Bahamut’s words, Nia had no choice but to agree as she looked down at her own body.

The impact against the island had not necessarily been fatal, but having nearly her entire body crushed by the dragon woman’s tail had obviously been devastating.

Days ago, if that same injury had been inflicted upon her, the metamorph was certain that even if she used all her gelatinous material to heal, she would never have been able to walk again—certainly not as swiftly as she just had.

“At this point, you’ve gotten used to the sensation of using dragon blood to regenerate, haven’t you?”

Without her noticing, Bahamut’s face was already close again. Without the slightest consideration for having crushed her body moments before, the dragon woman questioned her once more.

“Your dark mana reservoir is nearly the same size as people like Drelkos and Tiamat. That alone will grant you several escapes from death.”

Without waiting for a reply, Bahamut brought a hand to her chin, a sharp-fanged smile stretching across her beautiful face.

“As if it weren’t enough that no one else is using the dark mana in the atmosphere, you’ve already mastered the innate ability of the Wing Clan. With that pair of wings—those poles that attract mana—you have help keeping yourself supplied. As long as you don’t slip up or end up completely unconscious, you won’t die.”

The pressure in the surroundings shifted.

All at once, cold sweat began to stream down Nia’s cheek.

Suddenly bursting into uncontrollable laughter, Bahamut stared at the purple-haired girl.

“You must be wondering what I mean by all this…”

Flinging the boy caught in her tail far away, an enormous wave of mana began to pour out from Bahamut, flooding the island.

“That’s enough holding back. From now on, I’ll strike to kill with every blow. Try not to die.”