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Hmm... come to think of it, this city...

Aboard her horse, just as the walls of her destination, Saracrete, came into view, Coai recalled something.
During her previous journey, Coai had also stopped by this city alone... and at that time, she had received what seemed to be a magical attack.

From a place so far away that the caster's magical power couldn't be sensed, for several days in a row, without even letting Coai detect the magic—the intentional manipulation of magical power in the atmosphere—it had made her bleed lightly...
The effect on Coai, who received it, was minor—she only felt a faint sluggishness in her body and a heaviness around her waist. It was an attack so weak it would have been useless as support in a group battle, but...

It was the first time. The first time blood had flowed without her having torn her own flesh or being aware of her body being cut.

For the first time in a long while, her fighting spirit surged. To think there was someone with a level of skill she had never encountered in her long life.
So she had tried waiting. A contest of patience to see if the magic would stop, or if she could find and eliminate the caster hiding somewhere.
For several days, she had holed up in a room at an inn, lying in wait. Would the magic stop, or could she catch a fray in the magical power...

In the end, after about five days of seclusion, the magic had stopped... The bleeding and the slight fatigue had completely vanished. Since then, she had never received a similar attack or suffered a similar injury.
As for the one who had likely cast that magic, their identity remained a mystery.