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Link woke up to the sound of three voices outside his room.
It was not a heroic awakening. He didn't open his eyes with the calm of a trained warrior or with the speed of someone prepared to repel a nocturnal attack. First he wrinkled his nose, then buried his face in the pillow and, for a miserable instant, considered pretending he didn't exist. The bed was too comfortable, his body was still heavy from the previous day's work, and the most sincere part of his soul thought that any world where one could cook lomo saltado, tacos, and quesillo until getting kidnapped in the kitchen deserved a morning of mandatory rest.
Then he heard Subaru's voice.
—That's it! Magic! The word every man summoned to another world expects to pronounce without being sued for cheap fantasy plagiarism!
Link opened one eye.
The second voice was Emilia's, soft, concerned, and a little confused.
—Subaru, I don't think magic is something you should take so lightly.
The third was Puck's, too cheerful for the hour.
—Lia is right, but I also understand the excitement. Seeing a novice discover if he can do something nice with his door always has its charm.
Link remained still.
Magic.
The word finished waking him up better than any coffee from his world. He sat up slowly, with his hair a mess, his sleep shirt half twisted, and the look of someone who had gone from "don't bother me" to "I need to be there" in less than a second. During the last few days he had accepted many absurd things: that he had horns, that his back could produce four red appendages, that his body regenerated in ways no doctor from his world would be willing to look at without calling the police, that Subaru's death dragged him like a chain, and that he was in love with a maid who in another loop had been a nightmare with a Morning Star. But magic, real magic, with names, affinities, doors, mana, and the possibility of throwing fire from his hands… that touched a different part of the brain. A less traumatized and more idiotic part.
He got up suddenly.
He tripped over the chair.
He didn't fall, because a kagune came out by reflex from his back and braced itself on the floor like a red leg before his forehead kissed the wood.
Link looked at the appendage.
—Thanks, buddy.
The kagune didn't respond, which was good, because if it ever started to, Link would have to reevaluate his mental health with more urgency.
He dressed quickly, with simple work clothes adapted in the back so he wouldn't destroy them every time his kagunes decided to participate in the conversation. He washed his face, tried to fix his hair with his fingers, failed with dignity, and went out into the hallway following the voices. He didn't have to walk far. Subaru's trail was easy to recognize: anxiety, forced enthusiasm, a dark background that Link still didn't know how to name, and a verbal energy capable of leaving marks on the walls. Emilia's smell was cleaner, like cold flowers and soft mana. Puck, for his part, was a small point of magical presence that reminded Link of a campfire inside a snowball.
He found them in a wide area of the side garden.
The morning was clear. The air had that early freshness that made even the Roswaal mansion seem innocent. Emilia was standing on the grass, with Puck floating near her shoulder and Subaru in front of them, sleeves rolled up, with the solemn posture of someone about to receive a legendary sword or a terrible bill. Upon seeing him, Subaru raised a hand.
—There he is! The demonic gardener woke up attracted by the smell of magic!
—I woke up because of your voice —replied Link, approaching—. Magic was just an unexpected reward.
Emilia turned toward him with a kind smile.
—Good morning, Link. Did you sleep well?
—Until Subaru decided to declare acoustic war on the dawn, yes.
—False! My voice is a motivational tool.
Puck crossed his arms in the air.
—To be fair, sometimes it motivates people to leave.
—Even the spirit betrays me!
Link arrived beside them and looked at Puck with attention.
—Are you going to teach magic?
—Subaru asked about it —said Emilia—. Although Puck and I were only thinking of explaining the basics and doing a simple test. Nothing dangerous.
Puck wagged his tail.
—First we see affinity, door, amount of mana, and if the patient has enough instinct not to explode his own stomach.
Subaru raised a finger.
—I oppose the word patient.
—Then experimental user —said Puck.
—I like that less.
—Magical guinea pig —proposed Link.
—You shut up, horns of decoration!
Link raised a hand with false prudence.
—As an external witness, I confirm that "adorably limited" has more mercy.
—I don't need your mercy, mister four tentacles and garden dragon complex!
Puck, ignoring the theater, decided to show Subaru a simple magic for his affinity: Shamak. The brief incantation was almost anticlimactic. A paw movement, a word, and suddenly Subaru tensed as if the entire world had disappeared in front of him. Link felt the change without seeing it completely. It wasn't fire, nor ice, nor wind. It was absence. A small interruption between Subaru and his senses, a shadow that isolated him. It lasted little, barely an instant, but when it ended, Subaru had a damp face from sweat and his hands closed with too much force.
Link stopped smiling.
He knew what it felt like to feel separated from the world. He knew what it felt like to die without anyone else going with you. Subaru made a joke immediately, because Subaru was incapable of leaving a wound uncovered if he could throw a blanket of stupidity over it.
—Well, that was... dark. Literally. Very committed to its theme.
Emilia approached, worried.
—Subaru, are you okay? Do you want me to hold your hand?
Subaru opened his mouth with a painfully comic expression of defeat.
—I lost the opportunity to accept that offer without seeming desperate.
—You always seem desperate —said Link.
—Shut up! It was a moment of magical vulnerability!
Puck explained to him that Shamak was simple, not too lasting, and easy to dispel by someone skilled, but that against low-level opponents it could be quite useful. Subaru pretended enthusiasm. Link saw the tremor in his fingers anyway. The darkness magic had touched too close to something Subaru couldn't explain.
That was why, perhaps, Link spoke before thinking it through.
—Can I try it?
The three looked at him.
Emilia was the first to react with caution.
—Link, I don't know if that's a good idea. Your mana is already… different.
—Everything about me is different. But if I'm going to have horns, a strange door, four kagunes, and enough problems to fill one of Beatrice's libraries, I prefer to know what I can do before an emergency forces me to improvise worse.
Subaru looked at him with seriousness.
—He's right.
Puck floated in a circle around Link, interested.
—Hmm. Roswaal said you had quite a bit of mana, and Betty must have noticed it too. Very well, but with limits. Nothing big. Nothing theatrical. Nothing that includes a dramatic pose.
Subaru and Link looked at each other.
—Puck —said Subaru—, you just asked Link to stop being Link.
—I will do my best —said Link, which reassured no one.
Puck touched Link's forehead with his tail.
The effect was different.
Subaru had felt shame when Puck made his scanning sounds; Link felt that something inside him responded. Not cleanly. Not like a well-built machine. It was more like touching a door that shouldn't exist and hearing something big behind it move in dreams. Under his skin, the hidden horns vibrated. On his back, the sleeping kagunes tensed. The internal door, that strange route that Beatrice had described as not entirely human, opened a single eye.
Puck stopped doing "myon" on the third repetition.
—Oh.
Emilia became serious.
—Puck?
—Fire —said Puck—. Strong fire affinity. But not only that. His mana doesn't circulate like a normal person's. His horns seem to want to participate even if they're hidden, and those red things on his back react as if they could also absorb mana from the environment.
Subaru looked at Link.
—Your tentacles also want to learn magic?
—I don't call them tentacles when I try to look respectable.
—Sorry. Your red appendages of dubious morals want to learn magic?
—Better.
Puck scratched his chin.
—Let's try something small. Goa. Basic fire. A small flame, nothing more. Imagine heat coming out from your door, passing through your hand, gathering at a point. Don't push it as if you were going to hit a wall. Give it shape.
Link extended a hand.
For a moment he thought of bonfires, stoves, grills, hot oil, caramel about to go too far, the steam from a pan, and the smell of meat sealing. He didn't think about destroying. He thought about cooking. Useful heat. Something controlled.
A small flame appeared over his palm.
It wasn't big. It didn't roar. It didn't explode. Just a red and orange sphere, trembling, held by a concentration that made Link stop breathing for a few seconds.
Subaru opened his eyes.
—Brother.
Emilia smiled.
—You did it.
Link looked at the flame as if it were a living creature.
—Goa.
—Small Goa —corrected Puck—. But yes. Very good. Now turn it off.
Link closed his hand too quickly.
The flame disappeared, but a puff of heat slightly scorched the tips of his fingers. It wasn't serious damage. His regeneration didn't even have to try. But Rem, if she had been there, would have noted "minor incident due to enthusiasm." Link almost heard her.
—I turned it off —he said.
Puck narrowed his eyes.
—Like someone who kills a candle with a hammer, but you turned it off.
—That counts.
—It shouldn't count, but it does.
Then came Huma.
Puck was very clear when explaining that it wasn't "ice element" as Subaru would have understood it from games and fantasies, but an application of fire as temperature control. Cooling, stealing heat, condensing moisture. Link listened with attention. That one cost him more. Heat came naturally to him, almost instinctive. Cold required thinking backwards. Not creating, but removing. Not pushing energy outward, but ordering the environment until the heat stopped being where it should be.
His first attempt only produced strange steam.
The second made a drop of water on a leaf cool, but not freeze.
The third managed to form a thin frost on a stone.
Subaru applauded as if he had seen a glacier born.
—Huma! The stone has winter dandruff!
—Don't call my magic that —said Link.
Emilia laughed softly.
Puck nodded with approval.
—You have a good mental image, but too much brute force. With training you could use fire and temperature in a fairly wide way. Although, for the love of all sane spirits, don't try anything big yet.
Link looked at the frost on the stone, then at the slight mark of heat on his hand.
The question was born by itself.
—Can you create magic?
Puck stayed still.
Subaru slowly turned toward him with anticipated horror.
—Link.
—I ask from academic curiosity.
—Your academic curiosity gives me hives.
Emilia also seemed worried.
—Create magic? Do you mean invent a spell?
—Something like that. If magic depends on image, affinity, mana, and door, then a spell is a way of organizing that, right? A pattern. An intention with structure. If I understand the logic, maybe I could create my own form.
Puck floated a little lower.
—In theory, spells are very worked formulas. Names, chants, flow, compatibility with the door. It's not something you improvise in a morning.
—But it can be done.
—It can be studied for years to modify something small without exploding your face.
—That was not a no.
Subaru stood up.
—That was a "no" with a hat and a fake mustache. I saw it.
Link looked toward the open field beyond the garden. There was a distant area, without nearby trees, a cleared space where the earth descended gently before reaching the edge of the forest. It wasn't too close to the mansion. Nor far enough to reassure anyone sensible.
—I'll move away.
Emilia opened her eyes.
—Link?
—I just want to try an image. If it doesn't work, nothing happens.
—That phrase is cursed —said Subaru—. In the entire history of bad decisions, "if it doesn't work, nothing happens" always something happens.
Puck, for the first time, sounded really firm.
—Link, wait.
But Link was already walking.
He didn't run. He didn't make a spectacle at the beginning. He walked a good number of meters until he was in the open area. Subaru followed him a few steps, but Emilia stopped him by the arm. Puck rose, more and more serious. The morning seemed to tense around them, as if the garden itself had learned to recognize the smell of a monumental stupidity before it was completed.
Link closed his eyes.
He breathed.
The horns came out first.
They emerged complete, dark at the base and reddish toward the tips, curving backward while the mana of the environment began to vibrate around them. Then the kagunes. Four red appendages sprouted from his back and opened like arms of an ancient creature, not in attack posture, but like antennae, channels, bloody roots searching for something to absorb. Finally, he opened his eyes.
The kakugan lit up in both.
Red and black.
Subaru swallowed.
—That stopped being curious.
Puck didn't respond. His ears were tense. Emilia felt the change in mana before understanding it.
The air around Link began to move.
Not like wind. Like pressure. Like the mana of the garden, of the ground, of the fresh air, and of the morning light was being dragged toward him by wrong routes. His horns absorbed and ordered. His kagunes drank without him noticing, like hungry roots touching an underground current. Link raised a hand toward the sky. In his mind, the image was not technical. It was theatrical, absurd, stolen from a memory of another world where a mage with a divine artillery complex screamed with pride before ending up lying on the ground. But in Lugunica, images had weight if mana responded to them.
A small bright sphere appeared near him.
Subaru was the first to see it.
—What is that?
Puck turned sharply.
—A minor spirit.
The sphere, the size of a luminous marble, floated attracted by the flow of mana. It wasn't Puck, it wasn't anything powerful, it had no defined form. Just warm light, curious, circling around Link like an insect fascinated by a bonfire. The boy didn't see it. He had his eyes closed again, his body tense, his breathing in rhythm with a pace that didn't belong to Puck's training.
The spirit approached more.
The light touched one of the kagunes.
And something clicked.
There were no words. There was no formal contract with ceremony or spoken promise. It was a tiny contact, an acceptance born of instinct, overflowing mana, and a door opened too suddenly. The minor spirit stuck to Link's flow and, for a second, shone with a more intense tone.
Puck turned pale, or as close as a small spirit could get.
—Oh, that's not good.
Subaru looked at Puck.
—What's not good?
—He just formed a pact.
—What?!
Emilia took a step forward.
—Link, stop!
But Link didn't hear her.
In the distance, over the open field, a magic circle appeared.
Huge.
Not under his feet. Not directly over the mansion. Beyond, in the distance, where the cleared terrain could receive something without killing anyone immediately. The circle was drawn in the air like lines of red and gold fire, expanding with a geometry that Link didn't understand and that, for that very reason, was more dangerous. The symbols turned slowly. The mana compressed in the center. The air started to heat and cool at the same time, as if Goa and Huma had mixed without permission to build something that was neither of the two.
Subaru felt his heart rise to his throat.
—Puck.
—I know.
—PUCK.
—I know!
Link raised his voice.
The chant came out of him with a completely unnecessary solemnity and a conviction that turned secondhand embarrassment into real fear.
—Darker than black, darker than darkness, along with my intense crimson, the time to awaken has come, descend to these borders, and dance, dance without stopping!, a distortion without barriers, a power without equal!
The entire garden seemed to hold its breath.
Subaru, even terrified, couldn't help but whisper:
—It can't be. He's not doing that.
Emilia didn't understand the reference, but she understood the danger.
—What is he doing?
—Something that should never have crossed worlds —said Subaru.
Puck extended both paws. Crystals of ice began to form in front of Emilia and Subaru, first as small plates, then as a thick and curved wall. It wasn't an attack. It was defense. An ice barrier raised with the speed of someone who had seen too many bad signs together.
Link continued.
—Come out of your abyss! The most offensive attack of creation! Like a cataclysm, admire my…!
The magic circle reached its maximum point.
The small bright sphere spun around Link with innocent enthusiasm.
Subaru covered his head by instinct.
Emilia screamed his name.
Puck clenched his teeth.
Link opened his eyes, smiled like an idiot who had just won a bet against prudence, and threw his hand toward the sky.
—EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSION!
Nothing happened.
The silence was so great that even the wind seemed embarrassed.
Link remained with his hand extended.
Subaru slowly lowered his arms.
Emilia blinked behind the ice barrier.
Puck did not undo the defense.
Link lowered his hand a little, still with horns, kakugan, and kagunes deployed.
—Well —he said, with a very fragile dignity—. It seems that—
The world exploded.
It wasn't an explosion right where he was. It was the distant circle, at the edge of the field, opening like a red and white sun that devoured the air with a delayed roar. The shockwave arrived an instant later, hitting Puck's ice barrier with so much force that cracks spread across the surface like veins. Emilia covered her face. Subaru screamed something that didn't become a word. The ground trembled. The mansion's windows vibrated in chorus. Birds shot out of the trees as if the entire forest had decided to resign.
And Link flew.
Not backward with elegance.
Not falling to his knees like an exhausted mage.
He literally flew over the garden, the kagunes waving without control, the horns shining for an instant before turning off, the kakugan disappearing from his eyes while his body crossed the air in a trajectory that no human, Oni, or Ghoul should experience during a morning lesson.
—THE ROCKET TEAM WAS DEFEATED AGAAAAAAAIIIIIN! —he shouted as he passed over a section of the mansion.
Subaru, behind the ice barrier, followed him with an open gaze of horror.
—I can't believe that was his last conscious sentence.
—He's not dead —said Puck, although he sounded less sure than he would have liked.
A second later, a distant crash was heard among the branches.
Then silence.
The ice barrier began to melt slowly. Puck took a deep breath, lowered his paws, and looked toward the huge smoking crater in the open field. It wasn't a war crater, but for a test of "mental image" it was big enough for Roswaal to have to ask very long questions. The magic circle had already disappeared. In its place, the earth was burned, sunken, and covered with a cloud of steam that smelled of fire, broken frost, and spent mana.
Emilia didn't wait.
—Link!
She ran toward the side of the mansion where he had disappeared. Subaru followed her immediately, with Puck floating beside them. While they ran, a second-floor window opened with a bang and Ram poked her head out with an expression that, for the first time in the history of the world, seemed to have been ripped from her calm by pure disbelief.
—What did Barusu do now?
Subaru pointed toward the field without stopping running.
—This time it wasn't me!
Ram looked at the crater.
Then she looked toward the direction where Link had flown.
—That is exactly what Barusu would say if it had been him.
—I'm offended that you're right under normal circumstances!
Rem appeared through another entrance, already with impeccable uniform but eyes very open upon seeing the smoke.
—Where is Link?
Subaru pointed toward the trees.
—Last known location: sky.
Rem didn't ask for more explanation.
She ran.
And Subaru, even with his heart beating like a drum, had to admit that seeing her run toward Link with that discreet urgency gave him a small pang of something that was not exactly fear or jealousy. Perhaps hope. Perhaps shared concern. Perhaps just the tired thought that everyone in that mansion was doomed to take care of idiots.
They found him hanging from a tree.
Not in a dignified way.
Link was unconscious, face down, trapped between two thick branches by his shirt and a loose kagune that had wrapped around the trunk like a red ribbon without strength. His arms hung down. One of his shoes had been lost somewhere during the flight. His horns had disappeared. His eyes were closed. His mouth was slightly open, as if even unconscious he wanted to make a comment and his body no longer gave him energy to finish it.
Around him, the small bright sphere spun in circles.
Happy.
Innocent.
Proud, if a ball of light could be proud.
Puck floated until he was in front of the minor spirit.
—You and I are going to talk.
The minor spirit glowed.
Puck covered his face with a paw.
—Of course. He doesn't even understand what happened.
Emilia brought a hand to her chest, relieved to see that Link was breathing.
—He's alive.
Rem approached the tree with care.
—Link is unconscious.
—He ran out of mana —said Puck—. Completely. Empty as a jug after Subaru passes through a kitchen.
—Hey!
—It was an accurate comparison.
Rem looked upward. Her face remained controlled, but the concern was visible in the way her fingers closed over the edge of her apron.
—We must get him down.
—Carefully —said Emilia.
Subaru looked at Link hanging from the tree, then at the distant crater, then at the minor spirit that kept spinning as if it had found its favorite person in the world.
—I have so many questions that my brain formed a line to surrender.
Ram arrived a few seconds later, walking with a calm rebuilt by force. She observed Link, the tree, the spirit, the crater, Subaru, Puck, and Emilia. Then she closed her eyes.
—The gardener has lost the right to ask why he is supervised.
—I agree —said Subaru.
—Barusu also.
—I didn't do anything!
—Ram is practicing prevention.
Puck made Link float with help from a small mana impulse, while Rem and Emilia guided his body so he wouldn't fall suddenly. Subaru received part of the weight by reflex and almost went to the ground with him. Rem held him before both ended up in the dirt.
—Subaru, careful.
Subaru remained still for a second upon hearing her say his name without honorific.
It wasn't the moment.
But he felt it.
—Thank you, Rem.
She nodded, more focused on Link.
The Latino's body ended up lying on the grass. The small bright sphere lowered and settled near his shoulder, spinning softly. Link didn't wake up. His breathing was deep, heavy, like that of someone who had tried to pay for a mountain with a coin and, by some stupidity of fate, had managed to buy it on credit before fainting.
Puck checked his mana flow with a furrowed brow.
—He's exhausted. Not permanently damaged, I think. His body is strange. Very strange. But he's going to need rest. A lot of rest. And food.
Subaru looked at Rem.
—The last part is covered by the mansion, right?
Rem did not take her eyes off Link.
—Yes. Although Rem will have to inform that Link is prohibited from creating magic without supervision.
Ram spoke from behind.
—Link is prohibited from thinking about creating magic without supervision.
Puck added:
—Link is prohibited from having ideas.
Subaru raised a hand.
—I support that motion for public safety.
Emilia, still worried, looked at the crater in the distance.
—But… he did it, right?
Everyone fell silent.
Puck followed Emilia's gaze toward the smoking earth.
—Yes. He did it.
Subaru swallowed.
—That's the worst. He didn't fail.
Ram looked at the disaster with an expression of elegant resignation.
—Then the gardener is dangerous even when he succeeds.
Rem leaned down next to Link and carefully brushed aside a leaf stuck to his hair. The gesture was small. Almost invisible. But Subaru saw it. Emilia did too. Puck pretended not to look. Ram looked and filed the information for some future report that Subaru didn't want to read.
The minor spirit floated over Link and sighed.
—We will have to explain to him that he just made a contract with a minor spirit.
Subaru looked at the bright sphere.
—Does that mean he has a magical pet?
—It means he has magical responsibilities.
—That's worse.
Emilia observed the minor spirit with a mixture of tenderness and concern.
—It seems he likes Link.
—That demonstrates bad judgment —said Ram.
—Or affinity with disasters —added Subaru.
Rem stroked the sphere with a finger. The light spun happily around her hand before returning to Link's shoulder.
—It also seems harmless.
Puck looked at the crater.
—The spirit, perhaps. The owner, no.
Between all of them they carried him back to the mansion. It wasn't easy. Link was heavier than he seemed, and although Puck could help, Subaru insisted on carrying part of the weight until Ram reminded him that his greatest logistical contribution was not fainting on top of the fainted one. Rem walked near Link the entire way, watching his breathing. Emilia went on the other side, worried if the mana expenditure had done deeper damage to him. Subaru went behind, looking at the crater every few steps and trying not to think about what would have happened if Puck hadn't raised that barrier in time.
When they crossed the side entrance, Roswaal appeared at the end of the hallway.
Of course.
He always appeared when the pieces on the board did something interesting.
He looked at the unconscious Link, at the minor spirit spinning beside him, at Subaru covered in grass, at worried Emilia, at irritated Puck, at serious Rem, and at Ram with a face that had lost years of patience.
His smile widened.
—Vaaaya. It seems the magic lesson was more productive than expected.
Subaru pointed at Link.
—Don't say productive. That encourages him even unconscious.
Puck crossed his arms.
—Roswaal, your mansion almost received a demolition test.
Roswaal looked through a window toward the distant smoke.
—Almost, you say.
Ram spoke with dryness.
—The gardener created an explosion, flew over the mansion, landed in a tree, and formed a contract with a minor spirit without authorization.
Roswaal blinked.
Then he laughed.
Not much. Just a low, contained, dangerously amused laugh.
—What a woooonderful report.
Subaru felt a shiver.
—No. Not wonderful. Bad. Very bad. The kind of bad that makes one prohibit words like "experiment," "create magic," and "trust me."
Rem looked at the unconscious Link.
—Rem agrees.
—Note it down —said Subaru—. When Rem agrees to prohibit an idea, that idea must be locked under key.
The minor spirit spun over Link as if celebrating.
Link, still unconscious, smiled slightly.
Subaru saw it and sighed.
The third day was barely starting.
They already had a clue about the curse, a pending visit to the village, an enemy hidden among children and villagers, a mansion full of suspicions they had to keep deactivating with care, and now, in addition, Link had learned magic, had created a crater, and had won a minor spirit as if the universe had decided to reward recklessness with luminous company.
Subaru looked at Emilia.
Emilia looked back at him with that expression between concern and tenderness that always hurt his chest.
—Subaru —she said—, do you think Link will be okay?
Subaru observed his unconscious friend, the spirit spinning around him, and Puck preparing mentally for a long and painful explanation.
—Physically, yes.
—And the rest?
Subaru closed his eyes.
—Of the rest, none of us are okay.
Ram nodded.
—For once, Barusu has said something correct.
Subaru did not protest.
It was too early to celebrate, too late to pretend normality, and too absurd not to recognize one thing: the winning loop was still moving forward, but every step came with a reminder that surviving in that mansion did not depend only on avoiding deaths.
It also depended on preventing their own allies from inventing new ways to almost kill themselves before lunch.
And in that aspect, Link had just become the natural enemy of any sensible plan.