"Beast, Answer My Call!" V1 Chapter 3 - The Revenge of Shrimp Man
"Hey, uhh, are you sure they won't get mad at you if you go there?"
Cleao annoyingly tugged at Orphen's arm, and he patiently repeated himself.
"Like I've already told you, many times, I know people there."
"No way. Even high-ranking city officials can't get into that place, but you're saying you know someone?"
"That's right."
"Oh please, why would they let you in, Orphen?"
"I told you, I know someone."
The day after the attack on the house, before noon, Orphen talked to Tishtinee and decided to go to the city. Orphen wasn't confident that if they holed up in the mansion, and Childman and the other guy attacked again, that he'd be able to stop them. If that were the case, it'd be better to find out who they were and take the fight to them.
And so, Orphen, along with Vulcan, Dortin, and Cleao, who'd somehow managed to tag along, headed for the Totokanta Branch of the Damsel's Orisons.
"Do you know any sorcerers?"
Dortin asked, dragging along his usual leather bag. He didn't seem to notice that Vulcan was sitting on top of the bag.
Orphen nodded.
"Only sorcerers are allowed in through here."
He clenched his jaw and indicated towards the magnificent main gate that seemed to rise out of the plaza. Above the beautiful latticework for the doors, a steel engraving outlined the profile of a praying maiden, the namesake of the Damsel's Orisons. Below that, the engravings spelled out the words "Continental Sorcerer Alliance, Totokanta Branch." The building behind it was a massive structure that could've been mistaken for a fortress if it weren't located in a city like this, with gray walls that rose into the sky.
As Orphen looked up at it, Cleao suddenly spoke up as if she'd had an epiphany.
"So if only sorcerers can enter, then what about us?"
"Are you a sorcerer?"
"No, I'm not."
"Then you can't go in. The answer's that simple."
"Huh—"
Cleao exclaimed, obviously displeased.
"Then why'd we come all the way here?"
"I didn't ask you to come, I told you I was leaving the mansion. I also told you that the Damsel's Orisons had no room for civilians."
"Did you?"
Cleao mumbled and let go of Orphen's arm.
Orphen turned to Vulcan and Dortin, bending and stretching his free arm. The dwarfs didn't seem to care, as they had no intention of venturing into such an unknown fortress. Orphen let them know that they'd be taking care of Cleao, then continued.
"I'll be back — hopefully."
Then he walked through the lattice, which was left slightly open during the day, to the main gate. As he climbed the wide stone steps, Orphen took a deep breath to prepare himself.
The Damsel's Orisons was closed to the general public, but that didn't necessarily mean that the organization was friendly to all sorcerers.
He waited in the waiting room — for about an hour. Starting to feel hungry, he was finally led out of the small room, which was crowded with zero entertainment, through a long dark corridor absent of windows. When he arrived at the desired room, the young man guiding him turned around to face him.
"Please wait here for a moment."
Orphen mumbled a simple confirmation, but didn't complain.
The room he'd been shown to seemed to be a waiting room for guests. Even still, it seemed like he'd been taken to the lowest class waiting room they had. There was something else, Orphen thought with a sigh. He was a (self-proclaimed) sorcerer who'd shown up suddenly without any introduction or reservation. At least he hadn't been taken to an interrogation room right off the bat.
He drew his silver pendant up. The crest had served its use to him.
With a sigh he sat down on a hard couch in the corner of the room. The gas lamp on the ceiling cast a dim and unreliable light. The room seemed to be located in a secluded part of the building and the lighting was pretty dim thanks to the lack of windows. The floor was stained with dust, and there were clear marks where he'd walked. In fact, his footprints were the only ones actually there. In other words, he was the only person who'd entered this room in several days.
There were two doors. The one he came in through, and one on the opposite wall. Both had the same doors, and even if he opened the other it just lead down a corridor just like the one he'd come from.
After waiting for about thirty minutes, the door finally opened. It was the door he'd come through.
"Krylancelo!"
A voice filled with surprise echoed throughout the room. Orphen looked up to see a man with red hair standing there cheerfully in the doorway.
"Hartia."
Orphen answered, his own voice somewhat emotionless.
The red-haired man didn't seem to notice, walking briskly into the room.
"When I saw the name on the register was Orphen, so I thought it might be possible. This is stupid, you should've just called yourself Krylancelo. These guys were about to get mad and turn you away, you know?"
"I noticed."
Orphen stood up from the couch and lightly gripped Hartia's hand as it was offered to him. He felt Hartia grip tighter than that, and slowly studied the other's face.
"Not much has changed, since back then."
Orphen looked at the other's charming eyebrows and bare, narrow chin, which didn't seem to ever grow hair. Hartia laughed — and then — that smile slowly disappeared.
"You've changed a lot."
He murmured. But Hartia had never been able to maintain a serious expression for more than a few seconds. He pulled his hand back, shrugged his shoulders, and asked in a light tone.
"So how are you doing these days?"
"Down in the dumps, if that's what you're asking."
Orphen answered sarcastically. Hartia frowned, troubled.
"There are many ways to serve, if you'd like, aren't there? The number of powerful sorcerers like you is decreasing rapidly every year."
"But isn't that the result of the welfare system you have in place? You don't have to risk life and death in an institution like the Tower of Fang to be able to live a reasonably well-off life anymore."
"It's not like I'm doing much better, and I'm not in a leadership position or anything. I'll confess, I'm just a humble servant."
Hartia smiled a self-deprecating smile and scratched his freckled cheek.
"I've been feeling a little unmotivated since you left the tower — we'd always been rivals, you know? I couldn't keep up unless I saw your back ahead of me. My grades continued to decline. I went from being on the verge of moving up to the court, to getting a job at the local branch in this city."
"Still, it's not a bad job, is it?"
"Well, sure. I always get to go home at the same time. I'm having a little more fun than at the Tower, to tell you the truth."
"Is that so? I'm glad you're doing well, but that's not why I showed up here today, Hartia."
"... What?"
"I'm actually looking for someone."
"Looking for someone? Who?"
"The great Master Childman."
"You want Master?"
Hartia asked as if he'd never heard of him before. Orphen went on to explain how he was effectively hired as a bouncer for the Everlasting family, and told him that Childman had raided their house last night.
"Master? There must be some mistake. He wouldn't do something like that—"
"Yeah, normally, he'd do no such thing. However, if he's doing it as part of his job as a member of the Damsel's Orisons, that's a different story. I believe that Childman's somewhere in this branch."
"If that were the case, how could I not notice him? I don't care how big the building is, I'm here every day."
"Unless you're in on it."
"Hey, Krylancelo!"
Hartia's eyes flashed with anger.
"I'm sorry about Azalie — and I'm willing to put up with your pouting about it, but—"
"Hartia."
Orphen muttered softly — in a voice so cold that even he thought he sounded a little like his mentor, Childman.
"Hartia. I haven't said a word about Azalie yet."
"... You think you're gonna trip me up? I thought you were my friend."
"I thought of you as a friend, too."
Orphen answered, to which Hartia only snorted.
"You don't even trust me, do you?"
"I trust you, more or less, even when I'm the only one who believes what you're saying. But trusting you when I know you're lying right to my face, that's called blind faith."
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I've got work to do."
Hartia turned his back to him and went to leave the room. Before he could, Orphen grabbed his shoulder.
"What are you doing, Krylancelo?"
Hartia asked without looking back.
Orphen answered quietly.
"My name is Orphen. I used to be Krylancelo, but he's dead."
"You'll lose your friends dwelling on things alone like that, Krylancelo."
Hartia shrugged off Orphen's hand and left the room.
Orphen stood in the middle of the room for a long time. He looked up, suddenly concerned about how much time had passed, and saw a clock hanging on the wall. He hadn't noticed it before, but the hands ticked away, seemingly on time, and were pointing at exactly 1 o'clock.
"Hey, it's almost two o'clock!"
Cleao blurted out as she used her straw to poke at the remaining orange juice in her glass. In fact, it was still 15 minutes before 2 o'clock, but Dortin didn't dare to correct her.
Cleao had found a fresh parlor nearby, and for the next two hours, Dortin had been holed up there with a glass of fruit juice (which he had ordered with Cleao's money) and an old book in front of him, with nothing else to do. Vulcan had been refilling his water for a while now, and by this point, the waiter was giving him a disapproving look. But, as usual, he didn't notice it himself.
Cleao looked out the store window at the Damsel's Orisons building, which was diagonally across the street, and mumbled again.
"Orphen, what are you doing?"
"That sorcerer is just a time slaver, you know."
Vulcan replied, chewing ice with his sturdy jaw.
(He didn't mean to set a meeting time.)
Dortin thought as he flipped through the pages of his book.
Cleao seemed seriously concerned about the black magic sorcerer.
"I wonder if Orphen might've been captured by the sorcerers."
Vulcan nodded in agreement.
"It's not impossible. He's a disgrace to sorcerers all over the continent."
"Is that so?"
Cleao asked. Vulcan continued in an ostentatious tone.
"Yeah. Just the other day, he was reprimanded by the old guy who runs the grocery store for shoplifting."
(I think he was trying to sneak back some radishes that brother had stolen from him.)
But Dortin knew what Vulcan's train of thought was, so he didn't interfere. Vulcan said exactly what he thought he would.
"I've also seen him cutting the heads off of chickens in the middle of the night while chanting the names of evil spirits."
"Really?"
Cleao's eyes seemed to light up when she heard this, but Vulcan didn't seem to notice.
"To put it another way, young lady, in my opinion, the freedom fighter Volcano Vulcan, the fighting dog of Mazmaturia, that man is a ferocious and evil sorcerer."
Hearing the name of his hometown for the first time in a long time, Dortin felt a faint twinge of nostalgia, but Vulcan had no such sentimentality. He continued quickly.
"I won't say anything bad, but I'd suggest firing that man before he does irreparable harm to your family's good name. Don't worry, I'll take care of those bad guys."
He finished with a thump of his chest. Cleao's eyes flashed, and then she suddenly questioned him.
"Fire... Orphen?"
"That's right."
Vulcan nodded and continued.
"If you want proof, take a look under the bed the guy slept in that night. There should be a large quantity of chicken feathers hidden there."
(Come to think of it, Brother, weren't you shuffling around under the bed in the middle of the night that evening?)
Dortin recalled, but he'd had no idea he had even pulled such a trick.
Either way, Cleao didn't seem impressed.
"Huh..."
She murmured, then mumbled something about having to go to the restroom, and left her seat. After the girl disappeared into the back of the store, Dortin asked his brother.
"Brother, where'd you get those chicken feathers?"
Vulcan answered proudly.
"I snatched one of the pillows from the house."
"... Those pillows use feathers all right, but they're not chicken feathers."
"W-what?"
The moment Vulcan raised his voice—
CRRAAAASSSSHHHHHHH!
A large windowpane shattered nearby, and a stone the size of a man's head was thrown into Dortin and the other's table. Vulcan screamed and clung to Dortin. Dortin tried to pull him away while looking toward the road.
"Haaaaaahaaahaaahaaahaahahahahahahaha—!"
A chorus of laughter jolted the city in the middle of the day.
Dortin instinctively called out.
"Oh, it's the Shrimp Man!"
"It is noooot!"
With a cry, the table in front of Dortin exploded, shattering fragments of the table in every direction, causing Dortin to spill his drink all over his own face. He wiped the stinging orange juice from his eyes with one hand while rushing away from the window.
Panic had already broken out in the store. The busy street outside was similar. Customers and passerby's were running away, screaming, and the young clerk was standing with a tray in his hand.
Cleao jumped out from the back of the store.
"Hey hey, what's the fuss about?"
Dortin judgmentally took note of the fact that she hadn't washed her hands, but didn't say anything about it. The girl ran up to him with her blonde hair flapping in the wind like the wings of a golden raven.
"It's that assassin."
The girl squealed with delight ♪ and clasped her hands together at her chest.
"Where? I didn't get to see him yesterday."
She snatched up Vulcan's sword without permission.
"Huh—hey, miss!"
Ignoring Vulcan's reprimands, Cleao pulled the used sword from its scabbard.
"Come on!"
She shouted as she pushed Vulcan's attempts to retrieve the sword aside. She also noticed the clerk standing nearby and pulled the tray from his arm, holding it in her left hand as a shield.
He mumbled somewhere behind her.
"I, uhh... I'll go as ordered."
Suddenly, a figure of the man in black, his face covered by a black mask, emerged behind Cleao where no one should have been.
"What the hell!"
Cleao screamed at the sudden presence and ducked, swinging the sword rather clumsily. The blade cleaved into the masked man's neck, but passed right through it without resistance. The assassin's figure vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"It's an illusion! His real body is—"
Dortin exclaimed, looking around the store in a circle. He pointed his finger.
"The main one's sneaking in through that entrance!"
"Don't notice, you dumbass!"
The Black Tiger, who, unlike yesterday, wasn't riding a bull but was still carrying a scythe firmly on his shoulder, yelled at Dortin as he entered the store. Dortin looked at the assassin, but since he had no weapon, he held up the book he had been trying to read — in the same fashion that you'd smash a cockroach.
Behind him, he heard Vulcan crowding Cleao.
"Hey, girl! Hey! That sword is mine!"
But from the popping sound that followed, it sounded like she'd bonked Vulcan with the tray. In a muffled grunt, he walked up alongside Dortin.
He soon managed to regain his composure and pointed at the self-proclaimed assassin.
"So, you've shown your face again, Shrimp Man!"
"I told you I'm not Shrimp Man! I'm the Nightmare Blood, the Black Ti—huh? Hey, where's the black-magic sorcerer?"
"He's not here."
"H-he's not? Then where is he!?"
"I don't know!"
Vulcan shouted.
"There's no such thing as someone who's born evil! You must've had your fair share of misfortunes growing up to turn out this way, but that's no excuse! If you use such reasons to sully the world, and go out making a living by killing people, well that's something I'm categorically opposed to! So, I, Volcano Vulcan, will take care of this, so get your ass over here!"
The Black Tiger answered.
"Take care of what? You don't even have a sword today—"
Vulcan glanced at Cleao's face, as if sulking, and mumbled.
"She won't give it back."
The Black Tiger seemed taken aback.
"I don't give a damn about you fools! What's wrong with that black-magic sorcerer?"
"I don't care if you call me an idiot! I told you the sorcerer isn't here!"
"I need him to be here! I hope he hasn't already left!"
"I told you, I don't know where he is! He's just some unholy pervert who sold his soul to the demon world!"
As soon as Vulcan paused and shouted, the Black Tiger mumbled something. At the same time, a pillar of black fire rose up right next to the assassin, and from the center of it, the dark-haired bull emerged with a terrifying bellow. Each time it shook its thick neck and snorted, smoky vapor filled the air.
Vulcan quickly ducked behind Dortin when the bull glared at him, his mouth gaping as he tried to speak up.
"Now, for your brother's sake, go ahead and tell that bastard that I'll strangle him with a headband."
"What do you mean 'for my brother's sake'...?"
Dortin mumbled, his voice a bit exhausted.
Cleao shoved Dortin and the others out of the way and strode forward. She held his sword in both hands, taking a battle stance, and shouted.
"I've had enough of this nonsense. Now, unless you're all talk, come at me!"
"Hey, Cleao!"
Dortin grabbed the hem of the girl's skirt and tried to pull her back, but she quickly shook him off and continued toward the assassin.
Ohh, The Black Tiger placed his hand on the bull by his side.
"You've got great courage. Are you challenging the Black Tiger?"
The assassin started walking towards her, his scythe slung over his shoulder. The bull remained where it was.
"Oh-no-no-no-no-no—"
Dortin covered his mouth with his hands in panic. Slowly, without breaking her natural fighting stance, Cleao was holding the point of the sword slightly downward, facing the assassin. Dortin felt a faint twinge of hope that perhaps she'd been trained in how to actually wield a sword.
Huff—
He wasn't sure if the sound came from the assassin's lungs or the girl's.
In that moment, however, the Black Tiger's scythe drew back in an arc. The girl reacted swiftly to the attack from the upper right. Knowing she lacked the strength to stop the killing power of the scythe just by catching the base of the blade, she quickly stepped forward and slammed her sword into the hand gripping the hilt. A sharp, dull metallic sound echoed, and the Black Tiger seemed to lose balance ever so slightly.
Cleao seemed to take notice, and as if to seize the advantage, she tried to cut into him.
However, the assassin was clearly more skilled. The Black Tiger, with a wobble, threw himself to the right as he sank down, lightly swiping Cleao's legs with his foot. Cleao easily fell, being so much lighter than him, but rolled backwards, faster than her enemy's second blow. The both of them got to their feet with swiftness, squaring off against each other again.
Dortin turned to his brother, who was shrinking behind him.
"T-that girl's amazing."
"Y-yeah... Still — She's not quite up to snuff."
(She's better than you, brother.)
Dortin muttered to himself, but, anyway, he still didn't think Cleao could beat the assassin — their differences in physical strength and actual combat experience were too significant. In fact, Cleao's face was already pale, and less than a minute had passed. Facing an enemy with a blade was more nerve-wracking than one might think, even for someone who was so used to it.
When he looked, Cleao was adjusted her stance, her shoulders moving with each ragged breath. She would never strike out first against a more skilled opponent. As she gazed at the approaching Black Tiger, the girl seemed even smaller than usual.
But—
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
Woosh, a band of pure white light pierced through the space between Cleao and the Black Tiger, aiming towards their feet. The photothermal explosion echoed throughout the restaurant like a bolt of lightning.
Barely visible through the light, the Black Tiger leapt backward, running straight out of the store. Cleao had been knocked right on her butt, and sat there in place. As for Vulcan, he didn't even need to look for him, because he was trying to strangle him right then and there.
"B-Brother, Let go of me!"
"We're going to die together, Dortin!"
"No-no-no-no-no—!"
Before Dortin knew it, the black magic sorcerer appeared before him, in the middle of this frenzy — apparently through the broken window. He helped Cleao up, then walked over to them, looking annoyed. He pulled Vulcan off, complaining about something or another. He could hardly hear what he was saying with his ears ringing from the sudden burst of magic.
"What are you guys doing?"
Was all he managed to hear. When Dortin didn't know what to say, Cleao spoke up instead, throwing Vulcan's sword at his feet.
"I was just chasing that maniac away."
"You did a good job. Do you know how to use a sword, Cleao?"
"I learned at a club I'm in. I'm a regular."
Cleao puffed up her chest proudly before continuing.
"What took you so long, Orphen?"
"Me? I was looking for you. I can't believe you were right here in this store the whole time. You didn't say a word about where you were going."
"That's right."
Cleao pouted as if to a lover who'd shown up late for a date, then continued.
"We were about to be murdered, you know?"
"It's all right. If my predictions are correct, that self-proclaimed assassin can't actually kill anyone."
While mumbling along, the black-magic sorcerer picked something up from the floor. It seemed to have been dropped by the Black Tiger. Dortin glanced over and saw that it was a pendant — a silver one-legged dragon entwined with a sword.
Table of Contents
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| (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) |
Business Day Call of Reminiscence The Revenge of Shrimp Man Baldanders 'Hunting' Night Demon Witch |