"Beast, Answer My Call!"V1 Chapter 2  - Call of Reminiscence

 She was sort of an idol for the young people studying black magic at the Tower of Fang. And as in literature, there were men who worshipped her as an idol. As a matter of fact, you could say that he was one of them.

 She was referred to as the Demon Witch.

 She was a beautiful woman, even if he discounted his own favoritism of her. He was, after all, most proud of her. Not only were they students in the same classroom, but they had always been brother and sister.

 She always complained about having her hair shortened, but he always thought she looked better with a short cut. He would usually respond to her complaints about the Tower's hair regulations with silent nods. Or, maybe, he was just didn't care about such things.

 In fact, it didn't matter. Her value wasn't measured by such a pointless thing. Her face still had a girlish look to it, but if she'd been around his age, she still wouldn't have looked that childish. In her beautiful eyes, which shone with a lively, clever light, he could see a reflection of himself, and he liked that. He felt as if he could become a powerful sorcerer like her one day.

 In reality, it wasn't often that he had a chance to stare at her — almost the only time was when he was facing her during combat training, and the next moment she'd randomly come at him and twist his arm back, throwing him to the floor so hard that he could barely breath. She'd always be the one to get him on the floor.

"It seems like you're always just waiting to be thrown, aren't you?"

 She used to say that. He dared to keep it a secret that it was indeed the case. They all seemed to be distant memories, but when he breathed calmly, not many years had passed — though, it was certainly a long time to him. To put it another way, he felt impatient.

 Even in his dreams, he yearned...

 Azalie's funeral, the funeral for the Demon Witch was surprisingly modest, given her achievements and popularity during her lifetime. At least, that's how the boy felt. However, no one around him seemed to feel that way — some of them had looks of obvious disgust on their faces. The murmurs of those people — mainly the old men — were only heard in fragments by the boy, but their words didn't leave him anytime soon.

"... She couldn't have—"

"But, there were so many witnesses—"

"We're in big trouble if—"

"The people in charge at the Royal Palace are already working to suppress..."

"But this is an urgent matter."

"A fatal blemish—"

"A fatal stain—"

Stain.

 The boy listened to that word, repeated like a ripple across a surface, trembling as if it were a branding iron pressing into his own body — but even if it had been an actual branding iron, he might not have felt the pain. The boy glanced back toward the back yard of the Tower of Fang. The funeral procession he was now participating in had started from there. Secretly.

 There were a few, sparsely-scattered send-offs standing in the backyard. Some of them had obviously been friends with Azalie. For some reason, though, their expressions bore a striking resemblance to those of the old men who cursed her name during the procession. At least, he thought so.

 The funeral procession slowly made its way up the hill leading to the cemetery. The boy was walking right behind the Witch's coffin, his head down like livestock being taken to slaughter. No one but him wanted to walk in that position.

"Krylancelo."

 He looked up with a start when he heard his name called. He saw a red-haired boy about his age walking alongside him.

"Hartia?"

 The boy called Krylancelo looked at the red-haired boy with vacant eyes and responded.

"I didn't know you were in this funeral procession."

"We're the only ones from the Childman class."

 Hartia brushed back his red hair, which would've looked brighter in the sunlight, and murmured sadly.

"There's no sunlight today, just marbled clouds swirling in the air, which is disgustingly fitting for the atmosphere."

"Where's Master?"

 Krylancelo asked, which seemed to shock Hartia.

"You-you seem a little frazzled. Master's right up there?"

 He pointed to the head of the funeral procession.

 Krylancelo muttered something along the lines of 'Oh, right-' under his breath like it didn't matter. He didn't care about living, or dying, or anything really.

"Aww, come on, man. I know, you were especially close to Azalie and, well, she was close to you, but, I don't know. You look like you're attending your own funeral procession, y'know?"

"Maybe I am."

"Geez."

 Hartia let out an exasperated sigh, and after leaving his friend's side, he quickly returned to their master at the end of the line. Krylancelo looked at his back and turned his gaze from Hartia to the tall black magic sorcerer — their master, Childman.

 Childman was truly one of the best black magic sorcerers on the continent. In fact, even those who were skeptical of his reputation would naturally change their opinions once they saw him, even from 10 meters away. He was a young man in his mid-twenties, with a strong body and intense willpower reflected in his eyes, making him look like an impeccable warrior. He had long black hair that stretched to his back, but it was tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, which was more of an intimidation measure that he'd not had to cut it, and had instead just grown it out.

 The funeral procession seemed to go on forever. And, there were still murmurs of that word — "Stain."









 The community cemetery at the top of the hill was cramped, but somehow, there was always an empty grave. The funeral director led the procession to the grave, and the coffin bearers were light on their feet, since the coffin felt unnaturally light as well. Krylancelo, who had no intention of attending the funeral, overheard them chattering while eavesdropping on them in the waiting room. They'd been talking about how nice it was when the dead body was a young woman, because of how much lighter it was.

(No — That's not it. There's not even a dead woman in that coffin.)

 The coffin was pushed into the open grave that'd been dug at the foot of an unmarked tombstone. Those attending took turns clawing at the dirt with the shovel and dumping it into the grave, covering the coffin a little more with each scoop. Krylancelo watched in amazement as Childman threw the dirt aside with his strong arms, while Hartia lightly moved the shovel. Even the old men who'd been cursing her name earlier now kept their mouths shut.

 Krylancelo's thoughts were somber. It's fine. No matter what they think they're burying, they'll be fine with it.

 Finally, it was his turn.

 Krylancelo looked at the handle of the shovel held out in front of him as if it were some alien thing. Someone coughed, and after a long moment, he grabbed the shovel.

 He jumped down into the grave and swung the tip of the shovel. As he drove it downward like a stake into the ground, it smashed the lid of the wooden coffin.

 There was mumbling from all around, but the experienced black magic sorcerers didn't show their surprise. Neither did the funeral director, nor the old men, nor Childman, nor Hartia. The coffin bearers had already done their job and were quickly leaving.

 Krylancelo looked up from the bottom of the shallow grave and screamed.

"Whose funeral is this!?"

"... It's the funeral of Azalie from the Childman Class, Krylancelo."

 When only Childman answered, Krylancelo turned to his master and continued.

"Then you're saying her body is in this coffin?"

"No — and you know that as well as I do. The oak coffin is empty."

 Childman's voice was as stern and seamless as ever. It was like talking to a rock — a rock blocking the way, and trying to tell it to get out of the way.

 Krylancelo, however, did not falter.

"Then this isn't her funeral."

"Don't quibble."

"Who's quibbling! She's alive!"

"Some people would say that."

 Childman said, reaching his hand out towards Krylancelo, who stood in the grave.

"But I say that she's dead, and so do most other people."

 Krylancelo brushed the hand away.

"Not most people, just those of high status. You're going to sweep her under the rug for fear of damaging the Tower of Fang's reputation!"

"In fact, her failure could have become a fatal stain on the evaluation of the Tower of Fang, which stands as the pinnacle of magic."

 A fatal stain — There was that word again. Krylancelo gritted his teeth.

"She's not a disgrace. She's the best sorcerer the Tower has ever seen. Not only is she well-versed in black magic, but in white magic as well."

"Yes. She was a great sorcerer."

"Is! She's still alive!"

 Krylancelo glanced at his cool-headed teacher, feeling that the conversations were running parallel to one another. There was no way he could convince anyone that was present.

 Hartia's worried face appeared from beside Childman.

"Hey, Krylancelo, stop it—"

"And what exactly are you telling me to stop? To stop thinking that she's alive?"

"You were first place last time, right? If you keep that up, one of these days you're gonna get to go to the royal capital."

"Shut up, Hartia. You can have it. You're next in line."

 Krylancelo turned to Childman again with a grim look on his face.

"If you're so determined to bury an empty coffin, why don't I give you something to put in it."

"You mean like my head?"

 Childman gave him an accusing look, without a trace of mockery on his face. Krylancelo was taken aback for a moment and stuttered, but quickly regained his composure and continued.

"No. Mine."

"Are you out of your mind?"

 Hartia spoke up. Krylancelo ignored him and repeated himself.

"It'll be mine! Bury my name! Along with all record of Azalie! I'll find her. No matter what, no matter how many years it takes, I'll find her. Until then — I'm an orphan. An orphan who has no one but her."

 Krylancelo — Now Orphen, pulled the shovel from the coffin and shoved it towards the sky. Some of those around him backed away, but Childman's brow never twitched. The continent's most powerful black magic sorcerer muttered calmly.

"What are you going to do when you find her, or rather — the monster that she turned into? Are you going to restore her to her former self with a single kiss?"

"You've gotta be kidding me, Childman. I'm going to find that damned sword you've got sealed away somewhere. If the sword's magic transformed her, it can do it again."

"It'd be impossible for you."

 Childman spoke quietly. Orphen was once again caught off guard.

"So what, you're saying you could do it?"

"If it were me—"

 Childman muttered quietly, then closed his mouth. He glanced back at the old men on either side of him — and sighed. Then spoke up, this time mockingly.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"It's not ridiculous."

"Get your ass up, you crazy idiot."

"I'm not crazy."

"Wake up, sorcerer! Or I'll beat you to death with a leather glove!"

"Beat me to death...?"









 When he woke up from his dream, he wasn't in the bottom of a grave but in a cattle barn. To add to that, it was a detention center of the excellent police force of Totokanta city. Surrounded by bleak bluish walls, it was a crypt with iron bars and small windows. There was a jug and a glass of water in the corner of the jail, but he just couldn't bring himself to drink it. Even though he'd been thirsty since yesterday.

 He had a headache. He might've hit his head in his sleep. With a lazy look around, he saw Vulcan, looking resentful, his arms folded, and Dortin standing behind him, looking anxious. Orphen slowly roused himself and spoke in a hoarse voice that sounded almost like a moan.

"Why'd you wake me up?"

 The frightened look on Dortin's face behind him told him that he didn't really want to know, but he had a feeling he was going to anyway. Orphen was already annoyed.

"I want to talk to you about this situation we're in."

"I have nothing to say."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

 Vulcan barked. He grabbed his chest and shoved him back, but he only had the nerve to do so because Orphen was sitting down. If he'd been standing up, he'd never have been able to reach him unless he stretched far. Whatever the case, he continued.

"I'm telling you, you've gotta stop dodging this! We've been locked in here for three days! We're charged with fraud, disturbance, obstruction of justice, and damage of property"

 As a matter of fact, they were guilty as charged, most likely.

 The officials arrived shortly after the disturbance at the Everlasting house. Someone in the neighborhood had reported it — though, anyone who'd seen a strange object flying into a neighbor's house was bound to call in a squad or two.

 The security officers in Totokanta weren't as good as actual police officers, but at that moment, even they had trouble handling the situation— at least they'd caught the marriage fraudsters that were close at hand. The arrests were made so quickly that Orphen and the others had no means of escape, and were immediately thrown in jail in their rental clothes.

 Orphen spoke with a sarcastic smile on his face.

"I knew you'd be charged with fraud one of these days."

"You know what! That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about that monster! Everyone there saw you let that monster just get away with it!"

 Orphen yanked Vulcan's hand away from his chest and twisted it the other way.

"Listen."

 He said in a low voice.

"I don't like repeating myself, and this'll be the last time I do. Don't call her a monster. Do you understand me?"

"Geez, what the hell?"

 Vulcan answered while rubbing his arm.

 Orphen stood up and leaned his back against the wall, staring into the void as if he were looking into the distance. He wondered for a moment how to begin, then muttered

"Most children look up to older women who will take care of them."

"I knew you were far from human, were you really brought up by that monster?"

 When Orphen glared at him, Vulcan immediately tucked the recently-twisted arm behind his back and shut his mouth. Slowly, Orphen continued.

"I grew up in the Tower of Fang."

 Hearing this name, Vulcan and Dortin both gulped in panic — it was well known as the pinnacle of magic on the continent. It had powerful sorcerers, who sometimes performed huge spells that could determine the outcome of major battles. Vulcan opened his mouth with a sigh, unable to stand the tension.

"I see... It's no wonder they're mass-producing monsters like that there."

"I told you they're not!"

 When Orphen shouted and kicked Vulcan as hard as he could, the guard on the other side of the corridor threw him a sharp glare.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

 Orphen rushed over, smiled amiably, and waved his hand.

"Oh, uhh, it's nothing, don't worry about it."

"... What's the matter with you, you bastard?"

 Orphen heard Vulcan blurt out as he stood on him like a footstool, pressing the sole of his hard rental shoes down harder, but he ignored it the question. Orphen then began speaking quickly, this time in a whisper.

"I grew up in the Tower of Fang. I was an orphan — or rather, all of the students there were. If they had decent parents, they wouldn't have sent them to a place like that. Less than 10% of the children who enter the tower actually survive to graduation. No complaints so far, I take it?"

"Yes, sir."

 Dortin answered.

"Aside from being stepped on."

 Vulcan answered, but Orphen ignored him and continued.

"That's why the students there were so lonely and afraid to interact with each other. The competition was so fierce that it wasn't easy to make casual friends. One or two at most. For me, it was Azalie. She was the best sorceress at the Tower of Fang, and was five years older than me."

"With that kind of outfit, you can't tell how old she is just by looking at her — Ow, that hurts!"

"She was a beautiful woman. I can't imagine how many suitors she must've had, but she failed some kind of magic—"

 Naturally, the tone of his voice dropped.

"It just happened."

"... What happened?"

 Vulcan asked in a nasty voice. Orphen, aware of the dwarf's scheme, replied, never using the word 'Monster.'

"She got her comeuppance. Because of her failure to use the magic, she left the tower and I've been looking for her ever since. That is, I would've been, if I hadn't fallen into debt because of you guys."

"But we're probably the reason you got to see her again."

 Vulcan murmured from under his feet. Orphen snorted.

"I'm not giving you any thanks on that one, but I'll sure as hell make sure you pay off your debts."

"You money-grubbing bastard."

"I'd like to hear you saying that while actually dropping some cash at my feet. I have no obligation to listen to you for free."

 When Orphen took his foot off of Vulcan's back, Dortin asked in fear.

"So you're saying she used to be a human being?"

"That's right."

 Orphen nodded.

"I actually saw her transform..."

"What kind of magic was it?"

"I don't know."

 Orphen said lightly.

"You don't know?"

"Correct. When she transformed, she wasn't practicing magic in the true sense. She was practicing it in her room without permission. You'd have to ask her why she did it."

"............"

 Dortin thought for a moment, then asked.

"So you're traveling to, uh, restore her to her original form?"

 Orphen sighed and answered, his voice starting to sound almost desperate.

"If possible, I'd like to. I can't do anything about it though, unless I know what kind of magic she used."

"I guess that's just the way it is."

 Vulcan added. He dusted off the top of his rental clothes, which were clearly marked by Orphen's rental shoes.

"In other words, the least you can do is stop that monster with your own hands, right?

"Don't fucking joke about that."

 Orphen cursed without batting an eye.

"Then what do you want to do?"

 Vulcan asked, clearly unsatisfied with the answer, but Orphen ignored him and just sat back down on the floor. He was stretching and cracking the joints along his arms. Unaware of Vulcan, who seemed to take this as a threat and backed into a defensive stance, Orphen lost himself in thought.

(Her failure was a fatal stain on the Tower of Fang, the pinnacle of magic. Her funeral made that clear enough. There wasn't a single person on her side that day.)

 He closed his eyes again. He wanted to sleep anyway, to save his strength.

(Everyone else is gone now. I want to stay by her side, even if it's just me...)









 This time he didn't dream.

 When he was shaken awake, the atmosphere in the prison had changed somehow. Even Vulcan was sitting still, not making a sound, and it was Dortin who was shaking Orphen. A guard unit of several guards stood in front of the prison cell, and glancing up, he could see that they were arranged in a semicircle, like a windbreak. In the center of that circle stood a slender, delicate girl who seemed radically different from the trained soldiers around her. She had her hands clasped gleefully behind her back.

"Cleao?"

 Orphen raised his voice in confusion. The blonde girl nodded with a smirk, looking like a student who'd miraculously done her homework on time.

"What are you doing here?"

 Orphen asked on behalf of the dwarfs, who, unable to cope with the situation, remained silent. There should be no reason for a girl to show her face in a place like this.

 But Cleao didn't answer, and before anything, she sent the guards away. The guard turned and politely addressed her.

"Well, when you're done, please say the word."

 He then quickly walked away from the front of the cell.

"Why are you here?"

 Orphen asked the girl again before she could open her mouth. Although he and the girl were supposedly at odds with each other, it was hard for Orphen see the girl, with how hard her thoughts were to decipher, as an enemy.

 Cleao suddenly started talking to him through the bars.

"I'm going to get you out of here."

"Hang on a minute—"

 Orphen answered while thinking it over.

"If I wanted to break out of jail, I'd already be out of here. I can get past this kinda lock in two seconds flat, I just don't want to be on any wanted lists just yet."

"That's not what I'm saying. My mother said that if we didn't want to press charges, you wouldn't be charged with any crime."

"For fraud and property damage, anyway. For the other charges, we'll have to pay a fine."

 Cleao nodded.

"Mother said that, too. But I'll just pay the fine."

"R-Really?"

 Vulcan asked. The dwarf boy appeared as if he'd seen the light in his predicament, clinging to the bars as a worshipper clings to a goddess.

 With this going on beside him, Orphen asked his own questions.

"Why? You don't owe me anything, you know that right? Don't tell me your mother still thinks I'm Burpleworth?"

 Orphen joked, but Cleao shook her head, dead serious.

"No, she doesn't. Actually, I have a favor to ask of you."

"You want to make a deal?"

 Orphen asked, folding his arms and standing up.

"Yes."

 Cleao simply answered.

"You're a spell caster, right?"

"Yes, I am. However..."

 Orphen smirked.

"This fine is a small price to pay for the services of a black magic sorcerer."

"Watch it, sorcerer!"

 Vulcan yelled, but Orphen ignored him and continued to observe Cleao. The girl shrugged her shoulders.

"How much will it cost?"

"It depends on what you want. I'm not trying to extort you for a bunch of money, but the clothes I'm wearing are actually rentals. I've gotta pay a late fee, but unfortunately I don't have the money on hand."

"That's okay. I hope this'll be enough."

 Cleao quickly removed a small ring from her right hand. When Orphen saw it, he was shocked.

"But that's..."

"What?"

 The girl seemed to have no idea what was going on, and simply stared at him with a blank expression. Orphen took the ring from Cleao's hand and examined it thoroughly.

"Do you have any idea how much this ring is worth?"

"Y-yeah? But it's such an old design..."

 Cleao looked at him curiously, as if she didn't understand what Orphen was trying to say. The ring was a simple silver ring with a single clear, gravelly gemstone, just the way a girl would like. The craftsmanship was fine, but if you looked closely, you could see what looked like tiny letters engraved into it.

 Orphen sighed.

"Of course it's old. It must be a thousand years old. Dortin, can you read the words engraved here?"

 He handed it to Dortin, who came up to him, his interest piqued. Dortin shifted the position of his glasses and stared at the fine letters for a moment. However, giving up, he handed it back.

"I don't know, but I can tell you that there's no race on this continent that still uses this script."

"I'm impressed you even know that much. I can't read the letters either, but I've seen a ring just like this one before."

 Orphen was about to say that much when he suddenly realized. He'd been too surprised at first to notice.

"Wait a minute, Cleao. I saw this ring at the Tower of Fang. How did you end up with it?"

 Cleao herself seemed startled by this sudden outburst. Looking a little embarrassed, the girl mumbled her answer.

"I don't really remember, but its been in my jewelry box since I was a little girl. I think I found it somewhere when I was real small and put it there..."

"So it was stolen from the Tower of Fang? No way. I can't imagine anyone being able to steal so much as a hairpin from there?"

"I didn't steal it."

"I know that, but someone did. There can't be two rings like this in the world. It's entirely unique, and has powerful magic, an ancient magic that's very different from the kind I use."

"What do the letters say?"

 Cleao's question was met with a disappointed response from Orphen.

"I don't know. I've only partially succeeded in deciphering the script. I have to read them out loud to trigger it, though."

"It's creepy... Not that magic is creepy, but..."

 Cleao said as if she was concerned about Orphen, then continued.

"What I mean is if the ring is so powerful, then no one can control it, right?"

"No, that's not necessarily true."

 Orphen answered while looking at the ring. Cleao shuddered slightly.

"I'll give it to you. Is that what you want for your payment?"

"Yes, but I can't pay for a rental costume with this, the rental guy might just accidentally kill his family with something like this."

"Right. Then, I'll pay for all that myself."

 Cleao still seemed repulsed by it, taking a slight step back. Orphen tried to put the ring on his finger, but it wouldn't even fit over his pinky, so he gave up and slipped it into his pocket.

"Then we have a deal."

"Good. You know, my mother's in a lot of trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

 Cleao's reply to Orphen was short and to the point.

"It feels like someone's trying to kill us all."









[Hand over the Sword of Baldanders that is in your family's possession. If this sword is not handed over immediately, your family will be in grave danger. The date is—]

 It was already the day. There was no mention of where and when today. In other words, he planned to come to the mansion to pick it up.

"The Sword of Baldanders?"

 Orphen asked, lifting the fine paper letterhead. Around him were Vulcan, Dortin, Cleao, and Tishtinee. Mariabelle was in her room. Orphen, Vulcan, and the others had already returned their rental clothes and were dressed in their original outfits. In Orphen's case, dark clothes suitable for the style of a black magic sorcerer, and in Vulcan's case, the tattered fur cloak, carrying around a sword. Dortin was dragging the huge rucksack, and everyone was looking around suspiciously. Orphen in particular told Vulcan that he wouldn't be allowed into such a beautiful house unless he left his weapon behind, but Tishtinee paid him no mind and let them all into the most splendid reception room of the house.

 In fact, he didn't know how much of a threat Tishtinee thought the marriage fraud was, but she didn't seem all that offended when he came back to the mansion regardless. She seemed so nonchalant about it that Orphen felt as if he and the others hadn't lost any status at all from when he was calling himself Burpleworth. Perhaps she was simply thinking no harm no foul, or perhaps she'd already decided to join forces with the sorcerer, since she never knew when strange things might burst through her daughter's bedroom wall.

 Whatever the case, Tishtinee answered Orphen in a calm voice.

"The letter arrived two days ago."

(The day after our encounter with Azalie?)

 Orphen thought, then continued to ask.

"Have you told the police about this?"

"No. We don't have any idea what they're talking about..."

"You don't know?"

 If they didn't know what the threatening letter was about, the same could possibly be said about the marriage fraud. But that wasn't what Tishtinee was saying.

"Yes. I mean, what is this Sword of Battle Andes?"

"The Sword of Baldanders."

"Oh, I see. Honestly, we're not familiar with it — Anyway, we don't know what this wretched sword is or where it's located in the house."

"What do you mean?"

"When my husband was alive, he collected all sorts of antiques and curiosities during his lifetime, so I wouldn't be surprised if the Sword of Baldanders was among his possessions... But, I don't know which sword it would be."

"Where is your husband's collection now?"

"In storage in the basement. I'll show you later."

 Comparing Tishtinee's somewhat pale face with the threatening letter in hand, Orphen let out a deep sigh. In fact, when Cleao had first come to him with the story, he'd initially assumed that Azalie would somehow be involved, but when he arrived at the mansion, he was surprised to see the threatening letter. It was hard to believe that Azalie could've written it.

 While contemplating, Vulcan struck an expert tone and asked Tishtinee.

"What about the monster?"

 Orphen glared back at him, but Vulcan was too far away to notice. Only Tishtinee, who was facing him, noticed Orphen's gaze and recalled how desperately he had pleaded to the monster in that moment. She answered with a slightly uneasy look.

"Oh, umm... That thing hasn't shown itself again. Do you think there's a connection?"

"Of course. It would be natural to assume that there's some kind of casual connection."

 Vulcan continued with a sly grin.

"How did this threatening letter end up inside the house?"

 It was Vulcan who asked, but Tishtinee answered in Orphen's direction instead.

"When I woke up this morning I found it stuck to the mirror."

"It's sorcery."

 Orphen said.

 Tishtinee nodded.

"Perhaps."

"Why?"

 Dortin asked, and Orphen shrugged.

"Only a sorcerer would go to such lengths to get something like that done when it could've easily been handled through the mail."

"... You're showoffs, huh?"

"That's right."

 While answering, Orphen suddenly thought that Azalie would've easily come up with such a thing.

"Well then, can you show me around the warehouse that you mentioned?"

 Orphen asked, and Tishtinee agreed.

"Please let Cleao show you around. I'll see how Mariabelle is doing. That poor girl is completely overwhelmed by all of this..."

"Sure, let's go."

 As Orphen agreed, he heard Cleao giggle behind him. He didn't seem to get the reason for the laugh, but it seemed Tishtinee did. She was giggling slightly as well, holding her fingertips to her lips.

(Why are they laughing at a time like this?)

 Orphen sneered, but before he could comment on the matter, Cleao took his hand.

"This way."

 He was quiet. Orphen felt oddly like an older brother to this girl, and left the parlor of the mansion with her small hand leading him.









 After drawing a rough sketch of the house in his mind, Orphen guessed that the stairs to the basement were located almost in the center of the house. When he asked Cleao about it, he got a simple confirmation.

 As they descended the stairs, he felt the cool air hitting his cheeks. There were no windows to provide lighting, of course, but when Cleao looked for and pushed a switch on the wall around the entrance, a dim gas light illuminated the passageway.

"You have this kind of stuff here?"

 Orphen asked, and Cleao puffed up her chest.

"Father loved new things. There's even running water in the kitchen."

"Amazing."

 Cleao laughed happily as Orphen raised his hands in the air.

 The staircase ended at a door. It was a sturdy-looking iron door with a thin layer of rust at the bottom. It looked old, but a plate on its surface of roughly a few centimeters didn't look as old as the rest of it.

"Abandon all hope, yee who enter here."

 Orphen read it out loud with a disconcerted look on his face. Cleao mumbled, but kept her chest puffed up.

"Father also had bad taste."

 Orphen touched the doorknob, muttering to himself about running water in the kitchen. The iron door creaked slowly outward, seemingly unlocked.

 The warehouse was crowded with miscellaneous items. At the very front were shelves crammed with volumes of books and paintings, and for a moment, Orphen felt as if he'd opened the door and suddenly hit a wall. The floor was covered with dust that was almost as thick as the carpet in the parlor. The storage conditions weren't flattering, but even so, the air conditioning seemed to work well enough. The air coming from inside the warehouse smelled fresh.

"Actually—"

 Cleao's voice rose up, as if she was confessing to mischief.

"I got the ring from here. My sister has so many rings, but I don't have as many, only like, 3."

"From here...?"

 Orphen mumbled as he stepped into the warehouse.

 There were no gas lights in the warehouse, but the entrance was somewhat brightly lit by the light coming in from the passageway.

 Looking around, he noticed a two-meter-long infantry spear propped up against the wall in front of him. It was dirty and difficult to make out in the darkness, but he could see that the workmanship was solid and the surface was covered with fine engravings, indicating that it wasn't for combat but for ceremonial use. It was also quite old.

(One of these spears would be worth a fortune.)

 Orphen thought with a sigh of admiration. Looking around, he saw that there were a few comparable works of art, though not a lot of them. One of the tapestries hanging across the wall had tattered edges, but if it could be repaired, it'd be good enough to be accepted into a major auction house. The mess of items stored in the warehouse was awe-inspiring.

"... Where are the swords?"

 Cleao waved her hand carelessly.

"Somewhere over there."

 Looking in that direction, he saw that there were indeed swords of various sizes randomly piled up in the center of the warehouse, just like cows in a corral. By his rough estimate there must've been several hundred of them. The majority of the warehouse, which was supposed to be quite spacious, was filled with swords.

"With things like this, the idea of us obediently handing over the Sword of Baldanders is dead in the water. There's no way we can find a single sword in all of this."

"How about we take them to the warehouse and let them search for it themselves when they arrive?"

 Orphen patted Cleao on the head as she approached.

"I don't care if that's something you wanna do, but you hired me to catch the bad guys, not give them a tour, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

 Cleao agreed, looking up as if she was concerned about Orphen's hand resting on her head.

(And—)

 Orphen was coming up with his own selfish plan.

(If the people who sent those threatening letters have anything to do with Azalie, letting them go here means we're out of clues.)

 Not even realizing that Cleao had ducked away to get his hand off of her head, Orphen quickly formulated his plan.





(Why do I have to do this?)

 Dortin complained in his head. It was night, and he was following behind his brother through the exterior garden.

(It's my brother who owes the debt, it's the human sorcerer who wants that debt paid, and it's also the sorcerer who wants to catch the monster, and the people of this house who want to catch the criminals. What do I have to do with any of this?)

 He was still dragging the huge rucksack. Actually, its contents were entirely books. Most of them were written in the dwarf's language, but there were also some ancient imperial scripts and some in various human languages. It was a huge amount for a commoner to have, but compared to the sheer volume of books he'd left at his parent's house, this was only a small part of his collection.

(My parents' house...)

 Dortin recalled with a sigh. He hadn't returned home in years. He'd always wanted to go back to the mountains, but if it was that easy, he would have by now — He'd been kidnapped by his brother, who ran away after being disowned by their parents, and since then he'd never been able to escape his brother's grasp. He sometimes wondered if he was the unhappiest dwarf in the world — He was used to sleeping by the river or in the corners of cities — and they scared children into stealing bread from the storefronts.

 He sighed again, and as he patrolled, he took a look around the moonlit garden — the garden, maintained by a gardener, was large, and at first glance, it looked as if an oak-tree-lined avenue had been incorporated directly into the garden. There was no pond — only the nobility could have ponds and pools in the city of Totokanta, which suffered from chronic water shortages.

 As he was looking around, Vulcan suddenly turned.

"Hey, Dortin, aren't you on alert?"

(We'll know what it is when we see it.)

"Yeah."

 He answered, but he wasn't convinced.

"You better behave, or I'll strangle you with a noose."

"Yes brother."

 Dortin said, imagining sticking his tongue out.

 It was a pleasant night with a calm breeze. Dortin listened to the wind rustling the leaves and branches of the trees. And...

"Uwahahahahahahaha..."

 Followed by the sound of hoofs from a galloping beast that rumbled through the earth. It sounded far away, but it was obvious that the beast was getting closer and closer to him.

"What's that?"

 Vulcan heard it too, and in a panic he was trying to draw his sword.

"Alert!"

 Dortin shouted as loudly as he could toward the mansion, trying to signal about the unusual situation. At any rate, a human black magic sorcerer, however shabby, would be better than relying on his brother's sword.

"Alert—"

 As he was about to shout a further alarm, Vulcan struck him from behind with his sword.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

 Dortin yelled as he got up, and Vulcan, standing tall with his sword in his hands, laughed.

"I've got an idea, Dortin."

 Dortin thought it was best not to ask, but Vulcan continued to move closer to Dortin, who'd been beaten to a pulp, and continued in a hushed voice.

"What if we call the black magic sorcerer here? He's sure to capture the robbers and take the credit for the whole job. But what if we catch them by ourselves? Then the reward will be mine."

(I think you mean ours.)

 But Vulcan didn't seem to notice.

"Do you have any idea what that reward is going to look like, Dortin? With that kind of money, we could hire a hit man to take out the black magic sorcerer."

"... If we're getting paid, why don't you just pay him back?"

"Don't be a fool! Remember all the abuse we've suffered! Paying him would mean a defeat for us!"

"I-I don't think it does..."

"That's exactly what it means! And we can't lose! The career of the warrior Volcano Vulcan must not be marred! First of all, we must send that black magic sorcerer straight to hell."

 Just as he was about to finish his sentence, he was kicked to the ground.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?"

 Vulcan got up and attacked Dortin.

"It wasn't me!"

 Dortin shouted, and Vulcan yelled even louder.

"I know that, but you're the one I want to yell at!"

"That's absurd!"

 Dortin looked up and saw Orphen standing nearby, just as he had expected. The sorcerer always seemed to appear without you hearing so much as a footstep. It was creepy as hell, but then again, the man was a spell caster to begin with. From Dortin's point of view, he was no different from the monster they encountered a few days ago.

 Orphen seized Vulcan by the collar and lifted him into the air. The expression on his face said, in a word, that he was furious.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"No-no-no, I was just looking for a quick way to pay off my debt."

"I heard everything you just said."

"Ahh! My plan! Dortin, this is your fault!"

"That uhh..."

 Dortin mumbled, a little more emphatically now that Orphen had Vulcan in his sights, but then the garden was suddenly filled with laughter.

"Uwa-hahahahahahahaha!"

"W-what's that?"

 Orphen looked around with a questioning tone. Dortin followed suit, looking around in the darkness of the garden. However, dwarfs weren't very good at seeing in the dark, so he couldn't catch sight of the intruders.

"What are you looking around for! I'm right here!"

"What?"

 The voice was clearly coming from the roof of the mansion.

 Looking up, a huge figure loomed over the moonlit roof. It was at least three meters tall, but clearly not the same monster they'd seen before.

"Who are you?"

 Vulcan exclaimed, perhaps wanting to establish a slight advantage. The figure on the roof laughed once again, and then answered.

"I am the assassin who lives in the dark! As the embodiment of fear and night terrors, I've made a covenant with the night, and hide my face by day. The Nightmare Blood, Black Tiger!"

"What did you say?"

 Dortin groaned and backed away.

"Do you know him?"

 Orphen asked in a whisper. Dortin nodded, then answered quickly.

"Yes. Maybe it's the Black Tiger that's...—"

 But before he could even get to the end of his sentence, the assassin on the roof was in the air.

"Ha!"

 He leapt down with a flourish, the starry night sky as his backdrop, and landed where Dortin and the others were.

 The creature that landed with an immense thud wasn't a monster, but a human being — dressed all in black and wearing a mask that completely covered his face. The mask had holes only for eyes, through which they could see them burning with passion. He held a huge sickle in both hands, like the one held by the grim reaper in picture books, and he was astride a pitch-black bull. It made him look three meters tall. Without the bull, the assassin would've been average height at most. The bull was staring at them, exhaling a muffled, fiery breath. The assassin's crimson cape fluttered in the night breeze, flapping like the wings of a phoenix.

(Pervert.)

 Dortin clenched his fists and declared in his mind.

(He's a pervert, no doubt about it.)

 Looking at the faces of his companions, even Vulcan seemed to agree, stunned and dumbfounded.

 The Black Tiger, or whoever he was, continued in a loud, booming voice.

"Hahahaha! I didn't know anyone knew my name!"

"Dortin, who the hell is he?"

 Orphen asked as he came in closer. Dortin mumbled.

"Perhaps... I thought Black Tiger was the name of a shrimp."

 The conversation died down.

 Even the Black Tiger himself didn't seem to expect this answer, and remained frozen in his landing position. Orphen, too, seemed to be wondering what was going on. Vulcan sighed and quickly sheathed his sword.

 The wind felt good, and with that wind blowing, the assassin, Dortin, and the others stood in silent for what seemed like forever.





 Orphen adhered to several impressions built up over his life.

 For example, that government officials inflicted violence on suspects and demanded bribes from prisoners. Another was that assassins were fearsome warriors with heart and a burning passion that stayed hidden behind their cold mask like the lone wolf. These two impressions had both been destroyed, and on the same day even.

 The police had never even hinted at wanting a bribe, and the self-proclaimed assassin in front of him took the trouble to identify himself, even though there was no need to do so, and was now just staring at him in amazement. At this rate, Orphen thought almost hopelessly, it wouldn't be long before the rest of his views on the world were shattered. He wouldn't be surprised if Mariabelle turned out to have gonorrhea.

"Uhh..."

 He heard Vulcan murmur.

"Hey you, Shrimp Man!"

"Who are you calling Shrimp Man!?"

 The Black Tiger yelled. Vulcan pointed right at the assassin then continued.

"It's up to you! Whether you're a moron with bad taste or an abysmal idiot, it doesn't matter at this point! I can't let an evil assassin live! I've got a big pot, and I'll use it to boil you to death!"

"Ho? You, only a dwarf, are going to fight against the invincible assassin, the Black Tiger?"

"Keep runnin' your mouth, Shrimp Man!"

"Who's this Shrimp Man!?"

 As soon as he shouted, the bull bellowed and charged off, the assassin on his back. It made the same bellowing sound as when it had jumped down from the roof, and lunged forward like a cannonball. The Black Tiger's scythe flashed and hooked across Vulcan's neck as he passed by.

 Before Vulcan could scream out in terror, he was whisked through the air and thrown to the other end of the yard.

"Big brother!"

 Dortin screamed. Orphen stepped toward him, but before he could do so, the dwarf jumped back up. He was rubbing his neck as if nothing had happened, then started screaming at the assassin who was running across the yard to another corner of it.

"That fucking hurt, you son of a bitch!'

 The Black Tiger screamed as he turned the bull around.

"You're supposed to be dead, not in pain! What the hell is your skull made of?"

"Bone, duh! Now it's my turn!"

 But before he could draw his sword, the Black Tiger's mysterious voice broke through the night.

"Lightning!"

Thwack! There was a sound like a stone hitting a wooden plank, followed by an electric light exploding at Vulcan's feet. It set off an explosion, and the dwarfs were blasted right over to Orphen. Vulcan was sprawled out on his back and his brother was running over to help him get up.

"Shit, he has magic!"

 Vulcan mumbled in a shaky voice.

"And he's a pretty good sorcerer."

 Orphen added.

 He felt a part of his crumbling world views coming back to life. He rolled his arms and adjusted his focus so that he could enter into a magic composition focus at any given moment. If possible, he'd like to finish this before they could realize he was a black magic sorcerer, but he couldn't just kill them. He wanted to capture Azalie unharmed, and needed to be sure.

"Ha—Hahahahahaaa! The nightmarish Black Tiger is unrivaled! If you don't want to die, run away quickly, you fools!"

"W-what is this—"

 Vulcan jumped up, about to say something else, but hesitated — the Black Tiger's gaze turned towards him.

 However, it seemed that his nerve won out over his fear. Vulcan managed to shout, even as he stood there half-frozen.

"Uuuhhh—I-if you get too carried away, I'll stare you down from a distance until you keel over."

"You're looking a little vulnerable there."

 Dortin said.

 Clearly realizing that these dwarfs were no longer his enemies, the Black Tiger turned his masked face towards Orphen.

"Don't move, black-magic sorcerer."

(He already realized?)

 Orphen was astonished. He hadn't even used magic yet, nor had he shown any signs of it.

"Yes. I know that you use magic. There's nothing that the Black Tiger doesn't know!"

"Great. So you've done your research. In other words—"

 Orphen chuckled and stuck his right hand out toward the assassin.

"In other words?"

 The Black Tiger asked, as if he didn't understand. Orphen continued.

"If you already know, then I've got no reason to be afraid."

"Huh?"

"I release, the Sword of Light!"

"H-hey, wait a sec!"

 The Black Tiger screamed, but repelled Orphen's flash with his scythe.

"Keep on eating it!"

 Orphen released a series of powerful photothermal waves. The force shook the atmosphere, and steadily electrified it. However, even that much magic was blocked by the barrier of light around them, as the Black Tiger cast his spell.

 Vulcan and Dortin were truly stunned to watch this exchange — even in the vastness of the continent, there was no one who could continuously use such a powerful spell. Orphen released his spells with even greater force.

"I release, the Sword of Light!"

 A flash of light that illuminated the vast garden itself blasted the Black Tiger and the surrounding vegetation. Only the oak trees were set ablaze, and the Black Tiger seemed to have managed to defend himself with his magic. The assassin then cried out from the flames.

"Flame!"

"I release, the Sword of Light!"

 The two spells collided in the middle and exploded with a roar. The heated air stirred up quite a mess in the garden, sending up clouds of dust.

(Strange.)

 Orphen thought.

(Why didn't he just run away — If he wanted to get rid of the guards before the job, that's one thing, but if he found out that one of his enemies was a master of the art, he should've just fled, instead of sticking it out in such a huge power struggle. If this is the way it's going—)

 Orphen suddenly realized what was going on. He spun around to face the house, then looked at Dortin, who was standing on his feet, and spoke up.

"I'll leave the rest to you!"

"Wait, what do you mean you'll leave the rest to me—"

 Orphen took off without waiting for a reply.

"Wait a minute! What do you want me to do against that guy?"

 Orphen ignored him and jumped back into the mansion. He should've known — That Black Tiger loser wasn't just a pervert, he was a decoy.









 First thing first, he had to make sure the other three were safe — Orphen first peaked into Cleao's room, the nearest to the entrance hall. Despite all the commotion in the yard, the girl was wrapped up in her bed sheets and sleeping like a puppy. The next closest was Tishtinee, but she was awake. She wore a thin cloak over her negligee, waiting for someone to come and check on her.

 Not being familiar with the layout of the mansion, Mariabelle's bedroom, up the stairs from Tishtinee's, was a long way off. After Azalie had broken through the wall, she'd switched rooms. Now she was on the third floor, at the back of the house. Orphen kicked in the door, ignoring Tishtinee's attempts to stop him.

 The room was dark — only the moonlight shining through the open window revealed a hazy blue scene. The room was lined with average-looking furniture, but it seemed deserted, perhaps due to the large size of it.

 In the middle of the room stood two figures. One was Mariabelle, and the other was a tall man dressed like the Black Tiger, who was apparently still rampaging outside.

 The cold voice muffled from beneath the mask was as sharp as the large knife that the man held in his hand, against Mariabelle's throat. The man questioned Mariabelle, ignoring Orphen, who had smashed through one of the doors. It was clear from his frustrated tone of voice that he'd already asked the same question over and over again.

"Where is the Sword of Baldanders?"

 Mariabelle didn't answer. She stood there frozen, pale and speechless.

 Orphen shouted at the man.

"That's enough!"

 The man turned to face him, acting almost mechanical. However, the blade remained in place, not leaving Mariabelle's slender neck.

(Hes got a hostage. Damn.)

 Orphen cursed, ready to launch his spells at any moment.

 But the man threw Mariabelle out of the way as if to push her back, then held his knife up to Orphen.

(Why bother releasing the hostage?)

 But this was no time to hesitate. The man moved quickly, and the next moment, he had cleared the room was already right in front of Orphen. Orphen shuddered at being so easily overtaken. The guy's palm was thrust right into Orphen's chest, feeling as hard as steel. A sensation more horrifying than the knife itself penetrated his body.

 The man mumbled something.

"Leap."

Thoom! A tremendous impact blasted Orphen's body, sending him tumbling out of the open doorway and into the hallway.

(Sorcery.)

 Orphen coughed as he fell into the hallway, staring at the masked man that stared right back at him from inside the room.

(I never thought I'd meet two people in the same night who could use sorcery this strong.)

"Are you all right?"

 Tishtinee, who'd been in the hallway the whole time, rushed over to him. Orphen gently removed the hand that was trying to help him up and stood up on his own.

"Please stay with your daughter."

 Tishtinee nodded to Orphen's request. Only, when she saw the frightening man standing in the room, she was unable to move.

 It was the same way for Orphen.

(That man... he's strong. Definitely stronger than me...!)

 Orphen took a quick breath and shouted.

"I brandish, the sword of the devil!"

Fwoom... He felt the weight of something gripped in his right hand. He lunged toward the man, brandishing the invisible blade. At the same time that Orphen swung the 'sword' down, the man quickly jumped back to dodge it.

 Orphen bolted into the room after him. The effect of the so-called sword was already gone. He pointed his right index finger at the man and shouted.

"Guide me, Deathcry Starling!"

 Instantly, the air around him began to vibrate, rushing loudly in the direction that he pointed. With a sort of ultrasonic sound, the curtain behind the targeted man fell to tatters, drifting down like dust. The man, however, was unaffected. he seemed to have instantly defended himself with magic.

 Orphen thought he saw the man grinning under his mask. His opponent quickly raised his knife and started to move towards him.

"At my fingertips, a shield of amber!"

 Orphen shouted the spell, and the air in front of him compressed and hardened. The man's speed slowed, but that didn't stop him from rushing forward. He was again within striking distance, and this time it wasn't his hand, but the knife that was driving towards his chest.

 Yet, Orphen smiled.

(He took the bait!)

"I spin, the armor of our halo!"

 In an instant, the same net of lights that he'd used to block Azalie's flames a few days before, now spread out as if to wrap the man who'd jumped right into his arms. The sound of sizzling meat sounded from around them, and at the same time, the net of light spread and the man's body was thrown across the room. He slammed back-first into the wall and dropped his knife. The net then disappeared.

"So. That's it."

 Orphen slowly walked towards the man. His opponent groaned as he tried to get up. Orphen carefully picked up the knife the man had dropped and tried to point it at him.

 Only, he almost dropped the knife in astonishment.

"Y-you—"

 When he got up, the man's mask was rendered useless, burned by the web of lights. His face showed an age of about 30 years, emotionless and cold, and staring back at him.

"You've grown strong, Krylancelo."

"Childman!"

 Orphen shouted, but Childman shoved him, sending him sliding across the floor with a thud. By the time Orphen got up, Childman was no longer in the room. He only caught a glimpse of his back as he fled out of what remained of the window.

"What are you doing here!? Childman!"

 Orphen shouted, and tried to follow him, but his arm was suddenly grabbed from behind.

(He still has friends?)

 Orphen turned around in a panic, only to find Mariabelle clutched to his arm in her nightie. She didn't scream, but her eyes were closed down, and terrified, she clung to him, her arms trembling. He tried to shake her off, but he couldn't be too rough with her, and as he struggled, Childman joined the Black Tiger in the yard and fled.

(What the hell...)

 Orphen sighed as he looked down at the dwarfs in the middle of the garden, almost charred black, and having their traditional sibling quarrel.

 When Tishtinee entered the room, Mariabelle instantly flew over to her, but that no longer mattered.

"Childman, huh? The most powerful black magic sorcerer on Kiesalhima? Why is he here when he's supposed to be at the Tower of Fang?"

 But no one answered Orphen's question. There was only the quiet, calm voice of Tishtinee consoling her daughter, the curses of Vulcan chasing his brother around the courtyard, and the soothing sound of the wind swirling along at its own pace.

— "It'd be impossible for you. If it were me, however..."

 Childman's tranquil, grating voice, came echoing back to his ears from past memories. The call of the past kept going round and round in his head.



Table of Contents

(1)
(2)
(3)
(4)
(5)
(6)
Business Day
Call of Reminiscence
The Revenge of Shrimp Man
Baldanders
'Hunting' Night
Demon Witch


The Tower of Fang is a Majutsushi Orphen fan site and claims no ownership. Series © Yoshinobu Akita and Fujimi Shobo.