"Assassin, Erase My Past" V5 Chapter 6 - Truth Seeker
He was staring at him intently. Actually, from behind him.
Orphen was quiet — he didn't think he'd noticed him yet, but if he did, he was stubbornly ignoring him. He was sitting on the bed in the room he'd rented from Leticia, just for the time being, and checking the condition of his boots. He fixed his gaze on the toe of the boot he was about to put on — or rather, on the space a few centimeters in front of it.
"Are you going alone?"
Majic asked Orphen from the entrance of the room. Orphen didn't react much, but he gave him a sideways glance.
"Yeah."
He nodded.
"Tish will be protecting this mansion. At the very least, you guys should be safe."
Majic managed to keep his expression the same as he thought about it.
"It's that assassin you're dealing with, isn't it?"
"The Stabber."
Orphen looked up and corrected him. Slowly, he reiterated his point.
"He's a Stabber. Assassins that are trained by the black-magic sorcerers of the Tower are called Stabbers. They're different from killers and drug-reliant assassins — they were trained purely for the purpose of assassination, and are, in other words, Stabbers."
"... Can you fight a guy like that by yourself, Master?"
"You heard the story from that blessed tanuki — That idiot Cleao went and got herself snared in the enemy's trap without the slightest hesitation. Are we supposed to just abandon her?"
For a moment, Majic's face tightened in concern.
"I remember when you said something like that before, Master... Back in that haunted mansion in Kinkhall, when you thought Cleao had been killed!"
And then he held his breath — Orphen was staring at him with a blank expression on his face.
Majic continued.
"Master... do you think Cleao's dead this time?"
"No."
Orphen shook his head nonchalantly.
"I don't think so. He's only after the Tower Elders — or at least I think so."
"B-but — he said he was going to ki — umm — 'Stab' us this morning... Isn't that what he said...?"
"Yeah. That's what he said."
"Okay then—"
"Majic."
Orphen spoke up in a clear voice.
"Cleao's not going to die. She's a selfish, abysmal idiot, but she's not stupid enough to die so easily. Besides—"
With that, he stood up from his bed.
"Do you remember what else that Krylancelo said? I have to be me — He doesn't think I'll be any more compliant if he stabs you and Cleao. It's just a ploy to lure me out. Stabbers don't kill people for the sake of playing some trick."
"Master..."
Majic slowly asked, as if chewing on his thoughts.
"Who is this Krylancelo — No, what is he? You mean to say that you were called Krylancelo when you were younger? How could he be that person now—"
Orphen didn't answer. Rather, he didn't answer immediately as Majic watched him. It wasn't that he couldn't answer — but he could tell just by looking at his Master's face.
He wouldn't answer.
As he was drawn into those dark feelings, Orphen quickly walked toward him.
Instead of approaching him, he walked right past him and left the room.
His footsteps echoed silently and at precise intervals on the hallway floor as he moved away.
Majic turned around and followed behind him, almost shouting.
"If I can't do anything and I don't know anything, then aren't I just a liability?"
Orphen stopped.
But Majic wasn't looking. He continued while looking away from his Master's back.
"Why aren't you telling me anything? Can't you trust me!?"
After saying this, he fell silent. He hadn't said everything he'd wanted to say, but he couldn't continue.
He looked up and saw Orphen looking over his shoulder.
"Like you said earlier, this is 'now.' Everything is about what's happening now..."
He had no expression on his face. He was just staring at him. His eyes, which had always been somewhat cynical, were now filled with something harsher.
"He showed up now. Tish is complaining now. I'm back in town now, after all this time. I'm lost now, after all this time..."
"... Lost?"
Majic asked back dubiously. Orphen nodded.
"I don't know if the guy who just showed up is the real me, or if I'm the real one... but maybe it's him, maybe he's the real 'Krylancelo.'"
"Master...?"
"Because I'm a fake, I'm Orphen. I'm a failed black-magic sorcerer who runs a small-time money lending business out of Totokanta, chasing around a bunch of damn tanukis who won't repay their debts."
"............"
"It's okay."
Orphen chuckled — it was the face of the mentor Majic had always known.
With that look, Orphen continued.
"I'm going to bring Cleao back, and then I'll settle everything you don't know about me."
Majic stood there for a long time after Orphen disappeared from the hallway and left the mansion. After a while, a presence drifted in from the other end of the corridor, as if by mistake.
At the same time he heard footsteps. When he turned around, he saw a skinny, dark-haired boy. He was probably about the same age as himself — he vaguely recalled that he was Leticia's apprentice...
(Tifis, or something like that...)
Majic barely remembered. He'd been mistaken for a woman before, but the boy, Tifis, had an extremely feminine face, even more so than he did. He didn't know why that thought crossed his mind, but he'd appeared out of nowhere and was looking at him as if he were trying to weigh his value.
"... Majic, was it?"
It seemed the other party recalled his name in the same vague fashion that he had. Majic nodded a confirmation.
"Yes, but..."
"You're not going with him? With Krylancelo?"
Majic's eyebrow twitched, and he let out an exclamation of surprise.
"You... You know my Master?"
But Tifis only sighed, as if anticipating Majic's shock.
"As expected... I knew there was something weird about your attitude, but I guess you didn't even know."
"Why would—"
"It'd be odd if you did. Everyone on the continent knows. Yet, the student of the Successor of Razor Edge, Krylancelo, doesn't even know who he is."
"What are you trying to say?"
Majic's voice was raspy, but Tifis was unperturbed and continued in the same vein.
"I'll tell you his legend, and then you can make your own decision — I think it's in your best interest, and I think that's fair."
Majic took a deep breath and looked back at him...
(What's the point of this watch...?)
Leticia thought in disgust. She was even more disgusted with herself for wondering...
(We need to keep watch. Even if the enemy is someone who could outwit me any time he wants to...)
She thought. Then she looked around the hallways of her mansion — there wasn't a speck of dust in the hallways that she'd asked the cleaning crew to sweep. She hadn't spent much money on furnishings, but she still took care of it. She had basically decided not to put any unnecessary furniture in the hallway because it'd stand out too much. She also tried not to put planters in areas that wouldn't receive sunlight. The latter was a matter of taste, but she thought that plants in the shade looked so miserable.
(Just like me.)
Leticia shook her head to ward off those miserable feelings. If plants in the shade were miserable, she wondered if the whole place was miserable at night — the trees with their arms outstretched to the night sky were certainly eerie—
(Looks like you've still got some booze left in your system... Don't carelessly drink enough as to get drunk.)
She sighed and started walking down the hallway again.
Then—
She stopped when she noticed a half-open door.
The voices coming from inside were those of Tifis and Krylancelo's — or Orphen's — not that it mattered, his student, Majic.
(I wonder when they became friends...)
Leticia tried to pass by, thinking, but not really caring. However...
Suddenly she stopped in her tracks.
What she heard, as she stopped, was Tifis' innocent-sounding explanation.
"Five years ago, Krylancelo killed someone."
"No, to be more precise, he almost killed them. A sorcerer from the Tower.
Leticia listened, frozen, as her student's words drifted out through the doorway. It was, as she recalled, what she'd told him a couple of years ago when he'd asked about the photo in the album — but now Leticia was rather shocked, as if she was hearing it for the first time.
"Master...?"
Majic's reply was rather less enthusiastic.
"It's not that unusual for a Master to almost kill someone, is it?"
"............"
The conversation paused for a moment.
After a short pause, Tifis coughed, and rephrased his statement.
"I guess I should start from the beginning. Krylancelo was the black-magic sorcerer who represented the grade before us. Not only did he win first class at the Tower of Fang, he was almost selected for the Thirteen Apostles."
"I've heard something like that, but... I didn't pay any attention to it because it sounded like a lie."
"A lie? It's true. If he'd really joined the Thirteen Apostles, he would've been the youngest Court Sorcerer in history."
(Yes, that's right...)
Though Leticia shook her head.
(But he couldn't do that...)
"But he couldn't do that, you know?"
Tifis seemed to be repeating what he'd been told before. His voice continued, tracing the mutterings of her own heart.
"From the Tower of Fang's point of view, it was outrageous that Krylancelo would enter the Thirteen Apostles."
"Why? I don't know much about it, but the Tower of Fang has produced many court sorcerers before, right?"
Not just many — hundreds
"Not just many — hundreds."
Tifis chuckled.
"From this point on, it's a lot of nonsense. The Tower released too many sorcerers to the court. Every year, more and more good sorcerers were being absorbed into the court, so the power of the Thirteen Apostles was growing, while the Tower's influence was declining. The decisive factor came a long time ago... A monster named Pluto appeared in the Thirteen Apostles. You know of him, don't you? The leader of the Thirteen Apostles, Pluto, the Demon of the Royal Capital."
"I don't know about him, but..."
"... Well, whatever. Anyway, his appearance came as a real shock to the Elders of the Tower."
"Was Pluto also from the Tower?"
Majic's question was exactly the same question Tifis had asked. Tifis, perhaps remembering this, laughed with a hint of superiority in his voice.
"No. That was the biggest problem. Pluto was brought up in the Court. The former members of the Tower, who had gone on to become the Thirteen Apostles, trained him themselves as a black-magic sorcerer. This, combined with his natural talent, produced an incredibly powerful sorcerer. In a panic, the Elders of the Tower — Well, you get it, don't you? If they hadn't done something, the Tower would've lost its raison d'etre."
Back then, when she'd told the story, she'd said it in a tone that was mocking of the Elders — Leticia remembered that clearly. But now she understood the magnitude of the Elders' fear for the loss of the Tower's authority. The loss of their raison d'etre.
She understood that fear. Having lost her family, Azalie and Krylancelo, she'd become a person of little significance to anyone, confined to her mansion. She had only recently come to realize this.
Tifis, oblivious to her concern, continued light-heartedly.
"So, what did the Elders do — they brought up a single black-magic sorcerer to fight against the growing Thirteen Apostles. I don't know where he came from... or why. He was an assassin who called himself Childman, who for some reason was equal to or even more capable than Pluto. They scouted him for the Tower. They then tried to mass produce sorcerers equal to this Master, if possible, by having him take talented children of the Tower on as his apprentices."
"And one of those was Master...?"
"That's right. The class was called the Childman Classroom. However, the Elder's miscalculation was that they'd misjudged the power of the man named Childman."
Tifis seemed to be on a roll. He continued to prattle on and on. Leticia just listened intently, clenching her fists in solitude.
"What do you mean?"
"Master Childman was too good, and none of the students could catch up to him. So they learned one skill at a time. It was impossible for one person to inherit everything — there were seven students in the Childman Class, so there were seven different types of skills. For example, the oldest, Forte Packingum, inherited the management of a special information network known as the Childman Network. He was assisted by Hartia. The now deceased student, Comicron, specialized in medical technology. There was also Korugon, also known as the Night Knocker, Azalie, who was referred to as the Demon Witch, and was said to have the most powerful sorcery in the classroom, and my Master, Leticia McCready, and finally, the Successor of Razor Edge, Krylancelo."
"Successor?"
"That's right... Krylancelo, the 'Successor of Steel' — as his name implies, inherited all of Childman's combat skills and assassination techniques. It's only natural that the Elders would feel like they couldn't pass that on to the Thirteen Apostles."
"... Well, I guess you're right..."
It was time to put a stop to this — if she really cared about Krylancelo, but for some reason, Leticia couldn't will her body to move in response to these appeals to reason.
"From here on out some of this is just a guess, but the Elders have been very secretive about the facts. I think Krylancelo wanted to go to the Thirteen Apostles, but the Elders were against it, and sent a messenger to Krylancelo, who'd gone to the Royal Capital to receive his inquiry from the Apostles, and he nearly killed him. When it came to light, his hearing was canceled, and Krylancelo returned to the Tower."
Tifis shrugged his shoulders.
"Then for whatever reason, Krylancelo left the Tower five years ago... I think that's why he became estranged from the Elders. They were kind of vague about it, though. It seems that he's come back to this town after five years, but to be honest, I think it'll be difficult for him to really come back. The Elders of the Tower are very particular about their career, about authority and all that — and if there's even one stain on the Tower's record, it can never be erased."
"............"
"I'm just saying, you can't possibly erase a five-year gap. What I'm trying to say is that if you continue to be his student, your future isn't going to be very bright — after all, it sounds great on paper to say that you've specialized in the combat skills taught by Master Childman, but on the flip side, it means you haven't learned a single useful thing otherwise—"
Suddenly, there was a clunk, a chair being kicked aside, and someone was up on their feet — Majic, probably.
"Master's not that kind of... Master isn't like that!"
"I'm not referring to human-like things. I just—"
Tifis rushed to reiterate.
"I only mean that assassination by black magic will soon no longer be necessary. The much stronger methods currently being developed at the Tower are—"
— She was at her wits end —
"Tifis!"
Leticia belted out her student's name in a voice so loud that she surprised even herself — at the same time, she heard something collapse in the room. Tifis must've fallen in the panic...
A moment later, the door was suddenly opened from inside. From within, with a desperate look on his face, the blond-haired boy — Majic popped out.
"............!"
For a moment — literally, just a split second — she made eye contact with the boy. Leticia was speechless as those green eyes shot up at her.
Majic, too, seemed surprised — she heard him mutter something quickly under his breath. It was so vague that she thought it might be a spell, but that didn't seem to be the case.
It was a question.
"Where are those dwarves?"
The question could only mean one thing, but Leticia asked anyway.
"Where are they? What are you going to do with such an answer?"
"I'm going to ask them where Master went! I've already decided!"
Leticia squinted.
"You'll only slow him down if you go."
"What does it matter! If I don't go, Master still won't be safe, will he!? Can Master even defeat that assassin?"
As she gazed at Majic's eyes, staring back into hers, she groaned in a dark tone.
"There's no way he can win... The only person on this continent who could beat Krylancelo is Master Childman..."
"Even up until now, Master has been fighting against opponents he couldn't possibly win against — like Deep Dragons, and that Killing Doll left behind by the Nornir! But..."
The boy bit the edge of his lip.
"He's never fought alone."
"............"
As she stared at him, speechless, Majic continued in a slow, decisive tone.
"I'm going, and if you don't tell me where they are, I'll go looking for him anyway."
He turned away, but as he did, he added.
"And don't talk about Master like he's a monster. You're like his family, you're on his side, right?"
"He—"
But the dialogue broke off.
(I wonder how much I should say...)
She involuntarily asked herself. Was she so sure that he was a monster? Perhaps not now? But if so... then perhaps no matter how much she wanted it, would he never return to the way he'd been before? The past didn't return...
(There's a legend... the myth of the Three Goddesses. The Wyrd Sisters, Urthr (the past), Verthandi (the present), and Skuld (the future.) The three are the same goddess, yet they never meet each other... The past knows nothing of the existence of the present and the future, and the future is separate yet from both of the others. Only the present knows of the past and believes in the future, but is trapped in a cage, unable to change either — that's the doctrine of Kimrak. I don't even know what it means...)
But none of that mattered.
So Leticia ruffled her hair and quietly mumbled instead.
"I think he went to Childman's mansion."
Hearing this, Majic spun around and bowed before rushing off.
When the boy's back was out of sight, Tifis fearfully poked his head out of the room.
"Oh, um, Master..."
Her face was hidden behind her bangs, as if she were in a bad mood. Leticia's expression hadn't changed at all since she'd seen Majic off, but then she muttered without any further questions.
"As a punishment, you'll be in charge of the Tower's periodic reports for a month."
"Uhh..."
Tifis seemed to have some regrets now that he was forced to do such boring and troublesome work — but at this point, it didn't matter.
"Okay..."
Leticia chuckled to herself, a wry smile unintentionally creeping across her face.
"I'm just now sobering up — I can't stand to leave all the important stuff to those kids while I just sit at home and sigh. I'm Keening of the Childman Class, after all."
"... Huh...?"
Tifis looked up at her curiously as he leaned against the door.
Leticia didn't care, though, she was satisfied with her decision.
Thinking about it, it was the first time he'd walked alone in Taphrem.
Or rather, it wasn't so much that he was thinking about it — he'd just rarely been alone in the Tower. The Successor of Razor Edge — Krylancelo.
Orphen slowly recalled as he walked alone in the night.
(A Stabber who was crowned the 'Strongest' at only fifteen years old — his only flaw, of course, being that he couldn't actually kill people.)
But come to think of it, everyone in the classroom may have had some flaw.
Actually, he didn't even need to guess — everyone had a flaw of some kind.
Forte lacked self-control. He lacked the composure that was absolutely necessary to handle the vast amount of information brought to him by the Childman Network. He was like a child who pretended to be calm, but couldn't resist when a cake was served right in front of him.
Leticia had learned the art of combat from Childman — not the same arts that Krylancelo had mastered, not in the form of assassination techniques, but a soldier's art of survival. However, not even Childman would've thought that she had the guts to go into battle — at least, Orphen had realized that long ago, and it was true.
Hartia was his best friend in the classroom, partly because they were about the same age — and even he had a strong desire to show off, meaning he could never settle for being just an 'assistant'—
The same was true for the other four. None of them had been able to catch up with their mentor, despite their outstanding abilities in their respective generations, and that was probably because of these shortcomings.
Orphen somehow now understood the greatest secret of Childman's strength.
He had no flaws. He had no weaknesses that would inhibit his skills. He had unleashed his talents to their fullest.
(Childman was like... It's as if he saw each of our flaws from the beginning and deliberately taught us skills that contradicted them...)
The restless commander, the cowardly soldier, the confidant assistant, the assassin unable to kill—
Little birds that couldn't fly, Orphen mumbled in his heart — a flock of flightless birds, confined to a huge birdcage named the Childman Classroom, hanging at the top of the Tower.
"When you're fighting someone, don't think of surpassing your enemy — you'll lose your nerve when you meet an enemy stronger than you are. Instead, find that enemy's weakness."
He was reminded of a few of Childman's many lessons.
"Once you find that weakness, don't be afraid to exploit it. Whatever it is, if they have just one weakness, the possibilities are endless—"
(We—)
Orphen stopped and looked up at the night sky in bitter thought.
(Maybe we'll never be a match for you... Maybe if I'd grown up the way you wanted me to, I would be that 'Krylancelo'. You'd have to fight me with no flaws — and that's the fact that I'm afraid of... It's as if I've been objectively proven flawed...)
The city of Taphrem was quiet.
The night sky was twinkling and beautiful, for now. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the starlight flowed into its great expanse in a series of cascading waterfalls. The moon was waning — and the wind was brushing past with a slight chill. Underneath a city stood silently by, one which had fallen to ruin three times now.
It was in this neighborhood, referred to as the Tower Annex, where many of the senior sorcerers had their residence. It was also around here that Childman's mansion was located. This was also the alley where Cleao had disappeared, and where Krylancelo had fled, according to Dortin.
(Tish said that Krylancelo was a phantom — that they couldn't locate where he'd hidden. Come to think of it, though, the only place in town where Krylancelo could hide was either in Tish's mansion or Childman's. No one but me knows that Childman's dead, and if he knows that too—)
That was where he'd make his den. Under no circumstances would anyone in this town dare to inspect Childman's mansion — even Tish didn't seem to want to go near it.
From far away, the drum beats of the Dragon Worshippers could still be heard.
Orphen clenched his fists and muttered. Though, he was speaking to himself.
"I may be flawed, but I'm also unfinished. This is a challenge to you, Childman."
Then he started walking again.
How long had Childman been away from the Childman Mansion?
Orphen didn't know for sure, but it must've been neglected for at least a few months. About two months ago Childman had died, and since at least five years ago, he must've been traveling all over the continent—
But it didn't look so deserted, perhaps because there wasn't a single flowerbed in the yard.
Orphen stood in front of the main gate of the mansion and looked around the garden, which he could see through the gate. It was an empty yard, surrounded only by a wall. There were no trees, and there wasn't even a path connecting the gate to the porch. It was just plain, sandy ground. It had originally been a large garden, but the vague atmosphere of nothingness made it feel even more empty and expansive.
The moon cast a few rays of light on the garden. Orphen touched the iron gate and murmured.
"I tread—"
He was about to chant an incantation to unlock the gate when he suddenly stopped. He grimaced, and quickly withdrew his right hand from the gate. Then, with a great swing of his right arm, he spoke.
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
He shouted, and at the same time, swung his arm back down!
Instantly, a photothermal wave exploded, as if slashing at the gate, and the thermal shockwaves pushed the steel structure down. The roar of the explosion and the rumbling earth caused the entire area to tremble.
"It's a showdown, after all—"
The sudden sound of the impact could be heard throughout the neighborhood, and he could tell that the whole area was starting to stir. However, Orphen didn't care about that. He stepped over the destroyed gate and entered the mansion.
"Let's make a big show of things."
Even if he went straight through the yard, it'd still be fifty meters to the porch. Without any rush, Orphen took one firm step into the yard and kept going.
He calculated his next move as he walked.
(Five minutes before the Taphrem city police identify which mansion the explosion occurred at... Fifteen minutes to contact the Tower's Executive Committee and get permission to conduct an emergency search of a senior sorcerer's property.)
Orphen continued to stare at the front door of the mansion, alert.
(The police will be here and ready to enter the house in another five minutes... and another five minutes until the captain on the scene decides to raid it — about thirty minutes in all. If I can survive for the whole thirty minutes, then maybe I won't die. It's not a particularly reliable insurance policy, but I'd rather not lose my life today.)
"Anyway, this mansion doesn't have an owner anymore — so I might as well smash it up!"
Orphen stopped in front of the doorway and raised his right arm again.
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
Flash—!
Once again, a photothermal wave tore through the darkness of the night and pierced the roof of the mansion, easily blowing it away.
Next—
"I run, along the snowcapped mountains of heaven!"
Orphen shouted, and for just a moment, the gravity that bound him to the ground was lifted — during which Orphen kicked off from the earth and leapt to the roof in a hurry. He could control this spell and float in the air for quite some time, at least to an extent, but it wasn't something he did very often, because if you weren't careful, you could lose your equilibrium and fall.
In any case, in an instant Orphen had reached the hole in the roof opened by the photothermal wave.
He had no intention of entering through the front door to begin with — where there'd be risk of a trap. Or maybe not, but he'd rather take the possibility of danger into consideration instead of the possibility of safety.
"Well — Let's get going."
Orphen jumped into the hole, which he couldn't see well in the dark.
(I don't have to fight him in all seriousness, I just have to disable him and find Cleao. I'll just have to buy us some time.)
He landed on the floor.
All he was waiting for was a single word.
"... I'm sorry, but I don't intend to hang out with you for that long."
"............"
He braced himself.
Then he looked up. The room looked like a storage space in the attic. There wasn't much luggage stored there, but in the empty room the boy in the black robe seemed to blend in with the darkness.
On his chest was a silver pendant. The emblem of a dragon, which symbolized insurmountable 'power'—
It was Krylancelo. The black-haired boy was staring back at him with a faint smile.
(Is this a coincidence...? No, it can't be...)
Orphen stood up, confused.
(Did he already know that I was here — breaking through the roof to get in here...?)
"Yes, I did. Well, if I knew what you were thinking, it'd take only a moment to transition here..."
"You read my mind...!?"
"Yeah... I think you've finally figured out who I really am, Orphen — the original Krylancelo!"
Krylancelo quickly shouted and suddenly — he jumped at him.
(Don't fight!)
Orphen commanded himself as he raised his right arm.
(I haven't found his weakness yet—)
Instead, he slammed his right hand down toward his feet and shouted.
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
A photothermal wave swelled up and shot through the floor at his feet — and with a rumbling roar, Orphen fell through to the floor below.
As the wreckage of the broken floor rained down around him, Orphen leapt backwards the instant he'd landed on the floor.
He heard Krylancelo's voice following in his wake.
"Guide me, Deathcry Starling!"
With a distinct wham! the destructive power of the oscillating waves converged on the spot where Orphen had been standing just a moment before. In an instant, a huge hole opened in the hundred-year-old carpet, which was transformed into dust and ashes as it shredded in the air.
The room where he landed seemed to be a bedroom — one with only a few pieces of furniture, each of them of the highest value, lying around with no decoration. There was only one bed, and nothing in the room besides a built-in closet and a table where a water pitcher and book rested.
Orphen looked up at the hole in the ceiling that he'd fallen through and held out his arms.
"I break, the primordial silence!"
He weaved his spell and released it at maximum power.
The space near the ceiling distorted and danced — and with that movement, a force field erupted within that crazy space.
The huge explosion brought pain to his ears.
(With that kind of power, half the roof should've been obliterated...)
Orphen braced himself, staying on guard, and patiently watched the area around him.
He took a deep breath and waited a few seconds...
"... It looks like you're coming out of your funk. She'll be pleased. However, I'm not sure you're ready yet."
At the same time that he heard the voice, the boy dropped down from the ceiling as if nothing had happened. He landed lightly, folded his arms, and smiled at him.
(It didn't have any effect...!?)
Horrified, Orphen took half a step back.
Krylancelo answered, quietly, as he continued to smile.
"If you'd aimed directly at my body and not at the attic, you might've won — but you probably couldn't do that, could you?"
"............"
"If you can't kill me, you can't beat me. You know that."
"I—"
Orphen mumbled and swallowed his words. Krylancelo continued in a flat tone.
"... I'll tell you one thing. The reason I have to fight you—"
"............"
Silently, Orphen looked at Krylancelo. The other man was relaxed, not even defensive as he faced him.
Then Krylancelo's smile suddenly disappeared.
"She wants this. She says she needs you. What she wants is the assassin called Krylancelo, not Orphen. She thinks that by having me fight you, that you'll become your former self again."
"She...?"
Orphen groaned bitterly. Krylancelo nodded.
"But I have my own reasons for fighting you."
The boy quickly waved his right hand as if to ward off an insect — at the same time, a thick dagger appeared in his empty hand, as if spelling out his words.
He let it hang carelessly in his hands as he continued.
"You mustn't go back to your former self, because then you'll hurt her. She knows that, but she's taking a gamble anyway — I won't let her do it. She has me, and that's enough. So, I'll just have to Stab you—!"
Krylancelo, dagger in hand, lunged at him as he shouted in a restrained voice—
"I bring forth—"
Orphen chanted as he thrust his hand into his jacket.
"—a tiny spirit!"
With the incantation, a small blue-white will-o-wisp burst into the air. The bedroom, which had been submerged in the darkness of the night, was illuminated by the wisp.
In the light, Krylancelo's dagger flashed. Then—
It was repelled by Orphen's knife.
Drawing the knife from the sheath sewn into the interior of his jacket, Orphen pointed it directly at Krylancelo.
He quietly listened.
"I only have one question: Is Cleao safe?"
"She's safe, but you can't help her. Nor the Deep Dragon."
"That's pretty confident."
"I will Stab you, because I fear you!"
Once again, Krylancelo thrust the dagger at him.
He jumped back and dodged it, then swung his knife sideways. Krylancelo was about to deliver a second blow, but Orphen checked him and shouted an incantation.
"I release you, Sword of Light!"
"I embrace, the dancing shrew!"
The magical composition that had been swelling in the space dissipated. Orphen, without a bit of concern, tackled Krylancelo, this time with a forward thrust of his body. The boy's light body almost seemed as if it were blown backwards as he was shoved by his shoulder.
But Krylancelo didn't break his stance. He jumped back himself.
(—!)
Orphen chanted out of reflex.
"I dance, among the towers of heaven!"
The transitioning sorcery activated, distorting and blacking out his vision.
A moment later, Orphen materialized about a meter further back than before.
"—What!?"
Krylancelo seemed to have been reading his movement the whole time. He was following closely, as if aiming for the moment when he materialized, and then his dagger flashed again.
Sheen!—
Sparks flew from the knife as he barely caught it.
(Don't fight him!)
He told himself again.
(Why should I risk my life against a mere Stabber?)
"You tell me!"
Krylancelo shouted. He swung his blade in a trajectory of trailing light, aiming for his temple — an attack from a blind spot, but Orphen just barely dodged it. Even still, he was now out of position, and the next time he attacked, he wouldn't be able to dodge it...
This time Krylancelo swung his dagger down at him, because he'd drawn his head back to avoid the previous attack — but now he couldn't dodge it without jumping sideways, and there was no time for that.
Shunk—
Alongside that sound was an impact, Krylancelo's dagger sinking into his shoulder. Fighting the intense pain, Orphen desperately grabbed the assassin's right arm.
He looked up at Krylancelo's face, and when he did, Orphen saw an emotion. Not fear, but something similar.
Without hesitation, Orphen sliced Krylancelo's right wrist with the blade of his knife. The dagger fell from Krylancelo's hand and blood gushed from the wound halfway up his arm.
"What the hell!?"
Krylancelo, startled, pushed away from him. Orphen gasped for air as he took a hard kick to his solar plexus.
"Ugh—"
Orphen grimaced as he smiled, holding his hand over his aching shoulder. He pushed himself to his feet and quickly got up from the floor where he'd fallen on his rear. He spoke to Krylancelo while looking down at his blood-covered wrist.
"You'll be able to heal your wounds with sorcery, but you won't be able to replenish the blood you've lost. Your right hand wand won't recover its strength for a while—"
"I guess not..."
Krylancelo groaned bitterly and chanted something — upon which the wound on his wrist was easily healed.
Orphen braced himself again and swatted at his left shoulder, which was feeling a bit numb, as if he were dusting it off.
He'd been hit with a blade, but he wasn't bleeding. Krylancelo chuckled.
"You're wearing something under your shirt.
"I borrowed some gear from Tish's place."
There was a difference between blade-resistant clothing and sword-resistant clothing. A suit designed for use against swords was equipped with chainmail and other devices to improve its defensive capabilities, while a blade-resistant suit used a special fabric called blade-resistant fiber that rendered knives ineffective — in other words, the friction-resistant fiber prevented the blade from slipping. A blade that couldn't slide easily wouldn't perform well in terms of sharpness. However, it also had the disadvantage of being less protective than a sword suit, since it couldn't absorb the impact of the sword strike itself.
Krylancelo growled, almost impressed.
"You won't fight fair... is that what you're saying?"
"While you've been taunting me with your sarcastic nonsense, I've been figuring it out — ways to outsmart you. I've come up with about three different ideas so far. This was one—"
"It won't work twice."
"I know. That's why I came prepared with a bunch of ideas. The second one was—"
As he said that, Orphen casually pointed the knife at Krylancelo. With a flick of the switch on the handle—
Clunk! The spring made a popping sound, and just the blade flew toward Krylancelo. He quickly twisted his body to dodge it—
Orphen immediately rushed forward, threw away the now bladeless handle, and snatched Krylancelo's dagger from the floor instead. He then struck Krylancelo, who'd lost his balance, in the temple with the hilt of his own knife.
"You can't stop a concussion, either!"
Orphen shouted. Krylancelo's head was lilting to the side, and Orphen struck him in the temple once more with the hilt of his blade. The boy's body fell to the floor, almost as if he'd fainted—
"It's over, Krylancelo—"
But—
"Don't underestimate me..."
Instantly, a pure white light erupted in front of his eyes—
Orphen's consciousness faltered, fading as he felt his body thrown back.
"... Thirty minutes have passed since the first call—"
Majic heard one of the police officers mutter as they gathered in front of the Childman Mansion. If he were a mere spectator, like the other civilians who were following him from afar, there was no way he could get close enough to where the police were waiting, but thanks to Leticia's help, after she'd caught up with him, he was now considered an assistant.
... Thinking about it, Majic was somewhat embarrassed when he realized that if she hadn't followed him, he wouldn't have known the location of the mansion.
She was talking to the police captain a short distance away.
"But no matter how much you—"
Leticia patiently listened to the captain's troubled words.
"I'm not saying that you should let us in just because of my position in the tower, Captain — I know you've got a position as well."
She was wearing a black robe — it didn't look very comfortable, but Majic noticed that it was still slit to allow her legs to move freely. On her chest she wore the emblem of a dragon, and in her left hand was the sheath of her sword. Her long black hair was unkempt, but she was fully armed.
She continued.
"But the people fighting in that mansion are sorcerers — simply put, they're not something you can handle. I'm sure you don't want any unnecessary deaths, so could you please leave it to me?"
"............"
The captain went silent.
(Is it only a matter of time before she convinces him?)
Majic's body tensed up as he thought about it. The roof was blown off, and the large mansion, which already looked half-destroyed, was completely silent.
(Maybe the battle is over...)
If so, which one of them had won—?
(If Master lost, and was even killed, does that mean Cleao would be dead, too... and Leki?)
If that were the case—
(I wonder... if I would take revenge.)
Majic remembered a few days ago when he'd wondered if he was capable of killing someone. At the time, he'd been held at gunpoint by an enraged man. Even then, he wasn't convinced that he could kill the other man.
(I'm a coward, aren't I...)
Majic turned his dark gaze up toward the night sky.
(I don't know anything, and I'm only half-way there when it comes to sorcery... I have to save everyone, but I'm truly afraid of that assassin.)
His Master had the skills to handle tight situations like this, and wasn't afraid of opponents who were clearly stronger than himself...
Cleao had no skills of any kind, but did the best she could anyway — in some ways, she was even more outrageous than Orphen.
(Maybe... I'm really the one that's slowing him down.)
Then—
Suddenly, a tap on the shoulder from behind startled Majic, and he whipped around. Leticia was standing there with a clear smile on her face, perhaps to reassure him.
"We've got permission... Let's go in."
Majic nodded at her words. For now, this is the best I can do, he thought to himself.
Table of Contents
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| (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) |
The Usual Victim The Sudden Assassin The Melancholy Homecomer The Persistent Visitor The Night Walker The Seeker Confronted The Successor of Steel |
- Notes
- "Raison d'etre" is a phrase referring to the most important reason for something to exist.