"Ghost, Sleep On My Chest!" V3 Chapter 6 - Fools Never Stop
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
A ray of light struck the Snake's head as it got up. It toppled to its side as if struck by a hammer, and Orphen delivered a quick follow up attack, chanting as he went.
"—Sword of Light!"
Literally like a sword of light, the white band slashed the target's body. Then...
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
Kaboom! — With the small explosion, the third photothermal wave burst into flames. The heat that had accumulated in the area turned into a spherical electrical current. However, even still, the Snake didn't seem injured by the attacks.
Orphen jumped back and watched. Thud, thud — He jumped backwards, out of the basement. He shoved the door that'd been left open as hard as he could, closing the room off. He yelled as he pressed his hands against the door.
"I close, the edges of the boundary!"
With a bang — The heavy steel door shook. With that, the door shouldn't be able to move. On top of that—
"I bestow, the fortune of the giants!"
The moment he shouted, the door trembled even more. As he watched, it expanded just a little bit, pressing into the surrounding wall.
Phew, Orphen sighed, wiping the sweat from under his chin.
"This place isn't going to open again until they call in someone to dismantle it — While it might not be the case for Sammy or the Armor, the Snake at least is still breathing through its lungs. If he's trapped in that fire, he'll suffocate to death..."
He mumbled to himself, as if running through a mental checklist. Orphen shuddered in horror at the pitch-black staircase landing by the basement, closed off from the feeble lighting. He let go of the door and let out another sigh. Phew — But —
Shhhrrrrrrkkkk—
He heard a sound like the tearing of a damp cloth, and something oozed from the crack in the wall where he'd wedged the door — a pale poisonous yellow liquid. A strange smell hit his nose. As he watched, the wall dissolved.
Soon the door fell towards him.
"Whoa!"
Orphen jumped backwards to avoid it and glanced around the room. At the entrance stood the Snake. A trickle of venom dripped from its mouth. Behind it, in the basement, the flames seemed to have gone out, and the only light shining from the room was the dim light that had already been there.
"Damn..."
Orphen was stunned.
"What the hell is this thing? The door aside, if the thick walls of this fortress would break if hit by that much concentrated heat."
But there wasn't a single scratch on the Snake's body. Even the Snake, being a living organism, must've suffered some damage to its internal organs from the shock — Hey, wait.
Orphen recalled in horror.
(His skin... and Hirietta's bodysuit. Aren't they the same?)
His mind flashed back to the black leather suit that had rendered any physical assault ineffective. If that were true...
While he stared in astonishment, the Snake was turning its muzzle towards him, making a clicking sound.
(No way — Hirietta. Is she a creature, too?)
The Snake's mouth opened.
Orphen knew that a moment later the venom would spew from its mouth, so he reflexively jumped back, but — suddenly, his right leg was stuck to the floor.
(—!)
With a deadly chill, he looked down at his snared right leg. The fat Hand covered in its butcher knives was tightly gripped around his sturdy boot, which had been reinforced with a steel plate on the inside. He could see the blades of the knife digging into the leather surface, forming wispy scars.
And the next moment, he was drenched in the venom.
"Guh—!"
It was a almost a miracle that he didn't scream. He twisted slightly to avoid being hit in the face, but the venom, which emitted a strong acidic smell, was causing a strange smoke to billow up from his left shoulder to his navel in a long line like the slashing wound of a sword. First, there was the strange odor that dissolved the fibers of his clothes, and then a sharp pain that pierced through his entire body — or perhaps, 'soaked through' would be more appropriate. His skin was visibly melting, showing the pink color of his musles. The blood seeping into the ghastly, yellow-smoking wounds dissolved into the toxi liquid and turned it a strange color.
"Rrrgh... I—"
Orphen put his right hand on his shoulder as he cried out. Thinking that if he'd screamed earlier, he might not have had the breath to cast the spell.
"I heal, the scars of the setting sun!"
Most dangerous of all was the excrutiating pain — and even more so, the mental shock. Trauma was the easiest to heal, but the emotional toll that it could take could be tremendous. The more gruesome the wound, the more likely it is that the patient would die of shock.
However, once the magic was activated, the wounds healed at once, as if time on them had been reversed. The torn shirt remained burned, but the skin underneath had regenerated new, glossy flesh.
Orphen, his wounds healing quickly, turned his right hand to the snake and shouted.
"I call, upon the sisters of destruction!"
An invisible shockwave slammed the body of the Snake. At the same time, Orphen also slammed his own body with the shockwave — a choking impact that numbed his internal organs, but also sent his own body flying backwards, allowing him to pull his right leg free from the Hand's restraints.
Orphen's back slammed hard into the stairs, and as he rolled to get up, he pointed his finger at the Snake, who'd fallen in a similar manner.
"Guide me, Deathcry Starling!"
Vu-vuunn — Sound waves like sharp feathered wings converged on the body of the Snake. The snake man, bending unnaturally at the waist, shook himself off, but was flung to the floor like a toy slammed down by an illbehaved child.
(So, just like I thought — his body reacts the same way as Hirietta's suit. Even though this guy is tough, it's just his skin. His internal organs won't be that strong.)
No matter what it was, if it had even a single weak point, that created endless possibilities — just as his master had once said.
(Well, Phonogolos, they were all prototypes, so maybe they all have flaws.)
"Follow me, Sammy! It's me, Phonogolos! And I'm heading upstairs!"
Orphen yelled behind him as he ran up the stairs. The morgue — wasn't that what Hirietta called the storage room? Either way, he was yelling at the ghost who was supposed to be in the room behind him, who probably didn't even remember what he was talking about.
At the same time, he used his voice to cast a spell — the pitch-black staircase was illuminated by a will-o-wisp-like orb of light that leapt forth from his palm. Chasing the wisp, he climbed the stairs as fast as he could. He jumped out into the hallway at the top, tumbling out of the way.
And—
He jumped to the side, not stopping when he'd reached the top of the stairs. A sharp, black whip — a tentacle that must've been released from the Armor downstairs — lashed out right behind him. The whip narrowly missed its target, causing the wall to cave in several centimeters deep. The tip of the whip itself had pierced the wall.
"—!"
Orphen let out an indiscernable noise. The whip suddenly jerked as if it were being yanked back from below, and with a whirr like a winch, it began to haul the rest of the Armor's body up from the floor below. The heavy Armor came rushing out like a bullet, its body clattering as it got knocked all over the staircase.
Wha-tung! It finally collided with the wall where the whip was stuck, and came to a stop. Yet, it turned to face him as if nothing had happened...
He saw that the face of the armor was slightly open. A moment later, Orphen shouted.
"I dance, among the towers of heaven!"
Bang — His vision blurred. A moment later, he leapt through space, moving backwards a few dozen centimeters from where he'd been standing. A sharp sound hit his ears, coming from the face of the armor. At the same time, a glint of something shiny cleaved through the spot where he'd been standing — in other words, right in front of his eyes.
(Steel wire—)
Reflecting in the light of the will-o-wisp, glimmers shined through the air in specks, belonging to steel threads that were being unleashed with tremendous force. With this momentum, he could cut off two or three fingers, if not an arm, with ease. If he got too close, maybe even his head. If that was the case, there'd be no way to catch the wires and stop them.
(He really did create a nasty monster, damn it...)
There was a small pain right between his eyebrows. The steel wire must've just grazed him. Orphen was annoyed by the sensation of blood oozing down his skin. I've been wounded a lot since I've last been to the Tower — He thought to himself. If I'd stayed in the Tower — If I'd been Krylancelo — I would've never been traumatized by this kind of attack.
(I'm... getting weaker...)
But—
"You're going to hell for what you did to Cleao!"
Orphen spat, thrusting his arm out toward the Armor that was preparing its second strike.
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
Orphen watched as the Armor was engulfed by the blast, then he returned to the wisp. With the wisp as his guide, he ran towards the hall.
(I'll settle this in the lap of the goddess. But—)
But can I win on my own? He asked himself.
(I may need some support. I'm sorry, Cleao—)
Orphen continued to run on in silence.
"Are you sure this is the place, Member A?"
"It's Herschel."
"What?"
"My name. It's Herschel Lewis."
Vulcan looked over at the innkeeper's kid, who was pointing to himself while reciting his name — which would forever remain "Member A" in his head, anyway. As expected — he just sniffed.
"A warrior has no use for the past! So drop the name!"
(Another good one...)
Dortin thought with a sigh, but said nothing. He quietly glanced at the banner sheet his brother was carrying. He didn't know where he'd gotten it from, but he'd written large characters on it using paint, reading "The Second Annual Vulcan Company Convention — Apologize to the ruthless loan shark, and if that doesn't work, just run away!" He carried it over his shoulder, while Herschel argued.
"How am I supposed to introduce myself if I don't have a name?"
"Why, as Member A, of course."
Vulcan pointed at one of the five children in the line in front of him. The child he'd pointed at looked back with a puzzled look on his face.
"I'm Wes. Herschel is—"
"Oh, I meant him."
"I'm Michele..."
"Ok, then you."
"It's Lambert, remember?"
"What about you, what's your name?"
"Toby."
"Well, shit! How about you!"
"I have a name, too. Kauffman. It's a great name."
"You son of a..."
Dortin yanked his brother's cloak from behind as his eyes searched for another child.
"What is it?"
Vulcan looked back. Dortin mumbled.
"Brother. The number of names has already exceeded the number of people here."
"............"
He looked up at the empty sky and thought for a moment — it was beautifully clear as the daylight was fading into evening. The wind was blowing pleasantly and the birds were singing. After a long wait, his brother finally seemed to notice. He turned to the children and—
"Why you! How dare you mock me!"
Vulcan raised his banner as if to strike, and the children fled in all directions, screaming and yelling. Dortin, who watched his brother with little sympathy as he chased after the kids, remained right where he was and looked up at the large mansion that stood overlooking the Vulcan Company.
Before him was the 'Haunted House' that Herschel — Or Toby, or Kauffman, or whatever his name was, the Innkeeper's kid — had been so happy to show them too. Well, at the very least, it was an abandoned house that lived up to the name. However, the windows were boarded over from the inside, making it impossible to take a peek inside the house.
Afterwards, Dortin's older brother had been told that this was where the ghost dwelled (though Dortin figured he probably could've figured that out without asking, but as usual, decided to keep his mouth shut), and he thought he could save himself the loan shark's wrath by rescuing the captive, Cleao, and the others from the ghost. So here they were.
And—
"You'd better be careful, or I'll kill you all in one lifetime!"
He looked over at his brother that had just caught the last of the merchants and was kicking him in the leg (he was always mean to the weak). Vulcan continued, waving his flag in the air.
"Listen up! It's no exageration to say that my life depends on this venture! The wrath of that fucking loan shark isn't something you can bribe away at a bargain! That son of a bitch hung me from a clock tower one time for bumping into his shoulder!"
Well, that isn't the whole truth, Dortin muttered to himself. It was when he'd been working as a lab assistant and he'd shoved him from behind while he was holding beakers filled with concentrated hydrochloric acid, so it wasn't surprising that he'd be that angry, at least.
While thinking it over, the front door suddenly opened. The sorcerer's blond apprentice — Majic — rushed out of the haunted house in a hurry.
"Huh?"
The boy looked at him and shouted.
"What are you doing here?"
"No... What are—"
Dortin trailed off, and pointed toward his brother, who was also looking at the boy with a puzzled look on his face. The blue paint from the sheet was still on his fingers.
"Hmm... Well, okay."
Huffing and puffing, Majic seemed convinced. He turned straight towards them.
"By the way, you didn't happen to see a woman come out of here before me, did you?"
"A woman?"
"Uhh... She's a very dangerous-looking woman named Hirietta. I lost her on the way out."
"W-well... I didn't see anyone come out."
Dortin shook his head, and Majic's eyes glazed over.
"I'm in trouble... Master is going to kill me."
"Oh. We're in the same boat then, aren't we?"
And just as he was saying that...
Craaasshh!
From up above, they heard the windows shattering along with the wooden boards that covered them. He looked up to see that the window on the second story had just been smashed from the inside. Then, something leapt into the air from the broken window.
And then fell. With a thud, a human came crashing to the ground. The body, which seemed quite heavy, bounced once, and then flipped over and stopped moving.
"T-That's the assassin from earlier!"
Dortin shouted, pointing. The assassin — the man who'd called himself 'Kozen' — was cowering, his face scrunched up in fear, holding his injured left shoulder. Dortin frantically looked up at Majic in a panic. The boy, who was probably the most capable fighter there, managed to hold his ground. The children — or employees, or whatever they were — all five of them, were frozen in place. His brother was out of the question in the first place, so he didn't even look at him.
Kozen let out a slow, guttural sound — literally, like he was about to vomit.
"What the hell is that woman...?"
"Huh?"
Dortin uttered, and Kozen suddenly fell to the ground with a thud. Everyone looked down at the assassin who was laying motionless on the ground, and the Vulcan Company (Plus one) stood there for what seemed like forever.
As he ran for the hall whips were lashing out one after another from behind — Orphen instinctively dodged them and just kept running, never stopping. If he stopped, he'd be caught by the whips, which were still making destructive, almost explosive sounds on either side of the corridor. If that happened, his life would end.
He reached the entrance of the hall — which was just as uneventful as it had been when he'd entered the building about two hours earlier. Although, the incessant footsteps of the Armor that echoed from the corridor had completely broken the silence. Orphen ran across the hall and hid under the foot on the other side of the wounded goddess statue. It was the only obstacle that could possibly block the Armor's whip, and — at nearly four meters tall — he felt like somehow the chalk statue would protect him.
He stared down the passageway from behind the goddess statue — and the first thing that jumped into the hall wasn't the Armor, but the Snake. Its speed must've been superior to that of the heavy-looking Armor. With an aloof look on its face, the half-man, half-snake creature stepped into the hall and let out a high-pitched cry. Then — without hesitation — it came right towards him.
(Damn — even its sense of smell is like a snake's!)
Orphen leapt back from behind the statue and rolled across the floor, shouting a spell.
"I see, the princess of chaos!"
A shadowy vortex of gravity struck down the serpent, as if it was being embraced by a woman in a black dress. If the snake couldn't suffer physical trauma, the pure power of the vortex was more effective. The venom that the serpent had been intending to spit was deflected from its line of fire, scattering into the air. Without pause, Orphen rushed towards the fallen Snake.
Leaning over the creature, he placed his hand on the Snake's throat.
"I tear open, the walls of the sky!"
Shunk! The cutting wind hit the snake's neck. With a shriek, it opened its jaws — Orphen didn't hesitate to thrust his left fist into its maw.
"Bye—"
Orphen mumbled, then shouted again.
"I call, upon the sisters of destruction!"
It was only a matter of seconds. The body of the snake lurched as if to swell up, followed by a burst of fluid and flesh gushing from every orifice of its body, not just the eye sockets or nostrils . The shock wave blew out most of the snake's internal organs. He pulled his left fist free, brushing off the splattered blood with his right hand. The leather glove he always wore was melted to pieces by the venom. Before the poison could reach his skin, Orphen removed the glove and threw it on the floor.
"First one down..."
Taking his eyes off the Snake that had ceased moving, he turned to the entrance of the hallway. He could see the Armor. The black Armor, with its arms outstretched as if waiting for a lover...
"What?"
Orphen groaned. The front of the armor opened with a bang.
Inside, there were countless black ropes that all appeared to be spun steel, intertwined with each other in a humanoid mass. There was nothing else. Then—
In the blink of an eye, all those dozens of whips came flying out towards him!
"Damn—!"
Orphen growled, grabbing the corpse of the Snake and throwing it toward the armor. The countless whips cracked against the corpse of the Snake, which was now much lighter than it had been before. The tough skin of the serpent refused to split, but the wires struck the corpse with enough force to fling it across the hall.
In the mean time, Orphen ducked out of the way. He thrust his right hand toward the upper half of the Armor that had been stripped away, then—
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
The photothermal wave beat against the Armor. He'd aimed at the chest, which was unarmored, composed only of whips, but it would've been the same thing either way — the armor was trying to get back up again as if nothing had happened. The Snake still had internal organs to target, but this armor didn't have any such weakness.
(Then, the only way to defeat the Armor is to crush it, right?)
It wasn't necessarily impossible.
Holding his hand over his palpitating heart, Orphen once again slipped behind the statue of the goddess. Sweat dripped down his upturned face. His breath was completely exhausted.
(I've reached my limit on stamina — I've never used sorcery so many times in a row.)
In this kind of situation, he couldn't waste any more time attacking. If he didn't defeat him with one or two hits, he'd run out of energy.
Muttering under his breath, Orphen put his hand on the hem of the goddess's pure white robe. Then—
Kenkrim's "Hand" suddenly appeared from inside the statue and firmly gripped Orphen's left arm, which was touching the goddess statue. The blades of the knives wired to each of his plump fingers dug into his flesh. As soon as he saw it, blood began to erupt from the wound, staining his arm bright red. The Hand pulled at his arm with surprising strength, as if trying to drag him into the statue.
Orphen ignored the intense pain for a moment and grabbed the fingers of the Hand with his free right hand. He desperately resisted its attempt to rip off his left arm, but the Hand wouldn't loosen its grip, nor would it budge no matter how much effort he put into it. Then—
Orphen gave the Armor a sideways glance and grew frustrated. The Armor had already gotten up and was about to face him. In this state, he wouldn't be able to dodge the whips.
(I've got to do it...)
Orphen made his decision and regained a firm grip on the fingers of the Hand, his voice nearly at a scream.
"I dance—"
The chest of the armor opened again.
"Among the towers of heaven!"
His vision distorted.
The transition spell was activated, and the next moment, Orphen appeared near the ceiling of the hall. It wasn't easy to shift such a long distance — nearly ten meters. In fact, Orphen couldn't remember ever having succeeded at doing so. He looked down a few meters to the floor, and while enduring that unstable sense of falling, he looked at the Hand he was supposed to have shifted with.
The Hand was still firmly embedded in his left arm. It looked like the wrist of a very hairy human — or rather, an ape with its hair trimmed back — and was cut off at the upper arm. Three thick tubes extended roughly 50 centimeters from the cut and were directly connected to a fist-sized imitation of a 'brain' that was now just dangling in the air. This was the Hand — Kenkrim.
Perhaps it was an application of transition magic, to suddenly appear from the wall or ground like that...
But here in the air, there was no way out. Orphen grabbed the Brain of the Hand during his fall and yanked it out from the tubes. The Hand twitched once, and then its strength left. The fingers slipped, falling away from Orphen's left arm.
Even as he did so, the fall continued — almost less than a second had passed since he'd appeared by the ceiling, but directly below was the head of the goddess statue, and he saw the Armor wobbling at its feet. He jumped onto the Goddess' head as he fell, then Orphen squeezed all remaining vitality from his body and cried out.
(Its gotta work—)
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
Instead of the Armor — the luminous heat pierced the feet of the goddess statue — At the same time, the feat exploded, and the silent goddess began to slowly tilt—
Orphen, still holding on to the head of the goddess, threw his body like a pendulum, applying the momentum so that the statue would fall right above the Armor. It didn't make much sense — the goddess must've weighed nearly three tons — but either way, the statue fell onto the jet-black Armor that was still searching for him.
Orphen was also thrown to the floor as it fell. He started hacking. It felt like the impact might've broken some ribs. However, when he looked up, the Armor was no longer visible under the goddess statue, which was now lying on its side on the floor. In the cloud of dust, Orphen muttered under his breath.
(Now — just one more — Or, perhaps not, maybe he's not alone...)
Yet, Sammy hadn't shown up for a while. If he had shown up and it was four-against-one, he wouldn't have stood a chance of winning.
(What are you trying to do... You can't even think straight, right...?)
However, Phonogolos had created these creatures for the purpose of combat — When it came to combat, perhaps they could respond in a more flexible manner than he anticipated.
After a while, the palpitations had somehow subsided, and Orphen stood up. He looked around the hall where the goddess statue had collapsed, but there was nothing left to see.
Then—
He noticed a figure stepping quietly out of the darkess in the corner of the hall. Another corridor leading to the hallway that Orphen had just rushed through was beyond them. It seemed that they'd been hiding in the entrance of it. The tall, slender figure, with long black hair was clapping her hands.
Orphen mumbled.
"... What happened to Majic?"
"I let him go outside, and then I came back, which was my own choice, right?"
The figure — Hirietta, replied with a thin smile on her face.
"Well, it's up to you."
Orphen wiped the sweat from his forehead in frustration.
"So you've been hiding in the shadows, watching from a distance?"
"I was going to help you if things got too dangerous."
She chuckled, glancing at the overturned statue of the goddess.
"I guess I didn't have to."
"You're in quite a good mood."
Orphen touched his wounded left arm with his right hand as if to protect it, and was horrified to feel the blood. The wound wasn't as deep as he'd thought, but the blood loss was beginning to paralyze his sense of the injuries. He would've healed it with sorcery if he could, but his strength hadn't quite recovered that much.
Hirietta shrugged as she approached him.
"Well I read the signs correctly, didn't I?"
"Read what?"
Orphen asked.
"That you're an excellent sorcerer, one of the best sorcerers on the continent."
"... So what?"
Orphen spat.
"First of all, we haven't even taken care of the creatures yet. I'm almost out of power..."
Just as he was about to say that...
Criiiick, he heard a faint sound.
The door creaked open — then slammed shut again. Click, clack... Orphen strained his ears to quietly listen. The sound came from the upstairs terrace, just above the hall. The light from the wisp didn't reach that far. He glanced over at Hirietta. She, too, seemed to be aware of the sound, but she was unfazed, instead folding her arms.
Orphen groaned.
"I don't think... Sammy would make footsteps, would he? Are there other creatures?"
If so, that's the end of my winning streak, Orphen thought.
Hirietta shook her head. Then she opened her mouth, speaking calmly.
"Do you see why Sammy is the best creature?"
"... What?"
Orphen asked back, but she answered of her own accord, not caring.
"He can suddenly appear anywhere, and yet... he's unaffected by any attack from us. Yet this is something that even Axel, Kikuiem, and Kenkrim could do. Sammy's true ability is to bring creatures that were otherwise out of control under his control."
"You mean..."
Orphen looked up in astonishment. She nodded and pulled her dagger from the sheath on her thigh.
"Sammy — I don't know how — but he can possess and control any living creature. What was it that boy — Majic, or whatever his name is — was saying? That the young girl was dead, right?"
At that moment, the footsteps stopped.
He looked up — and just barely within the light of the will-o-the-wisp — at the top of the stairs leading up to the terrace, a small blonde-haired girl was standing there.
Orphen felt his consciousness jolt.
"Cleao?"
Looking down at him from the top of the stairs, it was unmistakably Cleao. She carried a slender military sword in her right hand, and he wondered where she'd found it. The girl's blonde hair was swaying lightly. There was no free flowing wind inside the mansion, but the air had been heated by Orphen's repeated spells earlier in the day, creating a light draft. The fine lines of the aristocrat's blood were frozen in silence. Even the light in her eyes was gone. Her gaze was vacant as she stared at them, as if asleep, but awake at the same time. Orphen also recognized the shirt she was wearing. He was pretty sure it was one of Majic's.
There was no doubt about it — It was definitely Cleao herself.
Hirietta murmured.
"I don't think I need to tell you this, but she's alive. You wouldn't want to hurt her in the heat of the moment, would you?"
"Of course not—"
Orphen turned his head toward Hirietta. Then—
The moment he looked at her, he was horrified to hear a thud as someone landed next to him. He quickly turned around to see Cleao standing in front of him, only a few centimeters away, holding the drawn sword in one hand.
(She jumped down from the top of the stairs?)
Reflexively, he jumped back and tried to escape — Cleao raised the sword and came after him, frighteningly fast and leaving a silver trail of light. The tip of the sword sliced through the air, and although Orphen just barely managed to dodge it, Cleao immediately leapt up from her lowered stance, this time aiming at the base of his ear.
He ducked — or rather, almost stumbling, he dodged. The wind whistling past his ear left a dull ache in his eardrums. In a strange, almost slow motion moment, like some sort of feverish dream, he saw Cleao seamlessly flash the blade again...
(She's going to kill me!)
Orphen screamed in his mind. If it weren't Cleao, he would've jammed his right hand into his enemy's eyes.
At that moment, Cleao disappeared.
He noticed the girl was lying on her side a short distance away. He looked and saw Hirietta had kicked her down from the side.
"Are you okay?"
Hirietta asked. Orphen answered, peering fearfully at Cleao, who was still lying there and not moving.
"Yeah. You saved me. Sorry."
He took the sword from Cleao's hands. They were cold.
Hirietta sighed and answered, while sheathing her dagger.
"You're so good-natured, aren't you? Why can't you fight back even when you're about to be killed?"
"Sometimes I forget to act on reflex."
Orphen answered bitterly, throwing the sword to the top of the second floor terrace.
"Unlike when I was in the Tower, I don't train for battle every single day... And on top of that, I'm not living the kind of life where those things are even necessary anymore — methods for fighting people. I can't help it if I've lost my intution. I might've been the legendary Krylancelo five years ago, but now I'm just a money lender."
Clang, He heard the echoes of the sword bouncing across the terrace floor. Orphen grinned.
"The bell rings its final toll... By the way, Hirietta."
"What?"
"I think I know what Sammy is."
"Huh?"
Orphen lifted Cleao's body, ignoring the sound as Hirietta's voice rose in surprise. He lightly tapped her belly, as if testing her reflexes in the same way a doctor might, then stopped.
"Here?"
Orphen murmured, raising his arm into the air, then striking the spot where he'd found it!
"—!"
It was Cleao herself that let out a choked scream. Her body folded in two, rolled, and tumbled out of Orphen's arms — and then she began to cough. Raggedly trying to breath, but unable to, she rolled around gasping for air. Orphen looked down at her with inquisitive eyes, awaiting the results of this experiment as he broke out into a cold sweat. Maybe he'd hit her a little too hard.
A black mist wafted out from Cleao's hacking face — Like darkness itself, just like Sammy. The mist quickly faded into the air and disappeared, but Orphen watched as some of it fled out of the hall. Perhaps — returning to the main body...
Eventually, Cleao stopped coughing. She continued to cower, burying her face in the dusty floor. Orphen suddenly felt uneasy, peering at her quietly.
"Hey ... Cleao?"
"What the hell are you doing!?"
Cleao suddenly got up, smacking him hard across the face. The blow sent him stumbling backwards a couple of steps before falling.
"Wha—?"
He was the one stuttering now, but he got up, holding his face in the same gesture that Kozen had. Orphen pointed a finger at Cleao and yelled.
"You little bitch! That's how you treat the man who just saved your life!?"
"What did you do to save my life? I was lying there coughing my guts out! I saw my father beckoning me from the flower garden!"
"Uhh, well I..."
But Cleao didn't listen as he held her back with his hand. She pointed her finger indignantly back at him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, hitting a girl in the stomach!? What would you do if something happened to me? You'd be in so much trouble, Orphen!"
Orphen waved his hand weakly, idly wondering, And why exactly would I be in trouble?
"No, that's not what happened, I—"
"Don't you have any common sense!? You hit me so hard, I'm sure I've got a bruise!"
"I hit you because—"
"I've always had a hard time getting rid of bruises! I had a bruise on my forehead from a fall down the stairs that didn't go away for like six months, and I had to seriously consider joining a convent! I even ordered a pamphlet!"
"I mean..."
"The scar from my appendectomy also stands out weirdly! I'm not even good at trimming my nails neatly! What are you gonna do about this?"
"Shut up."
Orphen said, running out of patience, and then swatted Cleao away when she came at him head on. Cleao fell to the ground.
"I just hit your diaphragm, which, let me explain, is the muscle that allows you to breath. That's why you coughed, because your diaphragm was spasming. If I'd really hit you in the stomach or uterus, you woud've coughed up blood and fainted in agony, rather than coughing."
"But—"
Hirietta, who'd stepped back a bit, likely overwhelmed by this whole situation, asked.
"How were you able to bring this girl back?"
"Oh, well, it was just a guess on my part."
Orphen ruffled his hair.
"The reason I couldn't respond to her attacks earlier wasn't just because my intuition is dulled. It's because she wasn't breathing."
Orphen shrugged his shoulders and continued.
"How to explain... I just couldn't get the timing right and I almost got killed because of it. I almost got possessed by Sammy last night, too — I was dazed and couldn't breath. Maybe Sammy gets into our lungs and controls our brains from there. His body is a gaseous substance — probably something close to oxygen, since the possessed person doesn't suffocate. Still, it's pretty dense."
As he continued, Cleao grumbled from the floor.
"So, you were just guessing when you hit me?"
Orphen glared at her.
"What'd you want me to do, just leave you like that? The creature was lodged in your lungs, so even if I tried to draw it out using a respirator of some sort, it wouldn't have done anything. If I'd had other options, I would've tried them. So don't get all pissy with me."
Cleao looked puzzled for a moment, but then, as if she'd had an idea, she looked up with a mischievous smile.
"I'll let you off the hook if you promise to take care of my bruises later."
"... You're not a five or six your old, you know..."
"But—"
Hirietta continued, interrupting him.
"If Sammy's true form is gaseous... Oxygen? How are you going to fight him if he's oxygen?"
"... It's easy. Once you've figured out what he is, Stabbing him is easy."
Orphen blurted out gloomily. He turned to Hirietta.
"Phonogolos knew this, too, and he wasn't satisfied with just his assistant, so he even went so far as to turn himself — or his son — into a creature. Sammy was a failure."
"............"
Hirietta fell silent, exhaled deeply, and looked around, as if searching for something.
Orphen sighed as well.
"Now — let's get out of here. We need to get ready to take down Sammy."
With that, Orphen helped Cleao to her feet and patted her dusty back. She only complained.
"Yeah. This house is so dusty, I hate it."
"...If you two are going to leave, can you go on ahead?"
Orphen had been expecting this, so he wasn't surprised. Cleao seemed surprised, though. Orphen assured her that it was okay, then put his hand on Cleao's shoulder.
"Hey, Cleao, I have a favor to ask you."
"... What is it?"
Cleao uncomfortably backed away from Orphen's bloodied hand, looking a little reluctant, but he pretended not to notice.
"I want you to go ahead and find Majic, then deliver a message to him."
"Go ahead — Hey, what about you, Orphen?"
Cleao asked, and he pointed casually in Hirietta's direction.
"There's still a creature — Err, well, I mean, one of those ghosts left in the mansion. It's not safe to leave Hirietta alone in the middle of all that."
"............"
Orphen averted his gaze as Cleao side eyed him.
"When you find Majic, tell him to pour oil around the house and set it on fire. That's all I ask."
"On fire!?"
The girl yelled.
"If he burns down the house, what'll happen to you if you're still inside?"
"I'll run away before then, don't worry."
Orphen released his head from Cleao's shoulder and patted her on the forehead. While she stood there, puzzled, Orphen grabbed the girl's slender shoulders and turned her around to face the doorway, as if to nudge her forward.
"Okay, but—"
Cleao's voice turned condescending as she looked over her shoulder.
"If you're suspiciously slow to catch up, I'll make sure that fire burns so thorough that you won't have a hope of escaping."
"What the hell is that..."
Orphen groaned and pushed her back. She took a step back, then stopped — and Cleao looked over her shoulder to ask Orphen in a solemn tone.
"Hey, Orphen, do you think I'm slowing you down?"
"Well... You're mostly a hindrance, but..."
Orphen looked back at Cleao's face, which contorted as if she were hurt by what she'd just heard.
"That's okay, though. I don't care if you're a burden. A guy like me needs someone like you or Majic holding him back, or rather, weighing him down, or else he doesn't know where he'll drift off to."
"............?"
Cleao didn't seem to understand, a look of incomprehension floating past her blue eyes. Eventually she opened her mouth again.
"I really can't become a sorcerer, can I? It's absolutely impossible?"
"You can't, and you shouldn't."
"... Why?"
"Because lately I've really started to dislike sorcerers."
Cleao didn't say anything after that. As he watched the girl's back quickly recede down the hall, Orphen felt a strange feeling, and mumbled to himself.
"It's just selfish though, isn't it?"
"... Sure is. Yet even still, when you say 'That's okay, though' it seems surprisingly convincing."
Hirietta teasingly agreed. Orphen dared not to correct her misunderstanding.
He wasn't talking about Cleao. He was talking about himself.
(I thought I was back to being Krylancelo — the sorcerer who was called a combat artist. And yet, when I found out that Cleao was still alive, before I knew it, I was right back to being a money lender.)
Well, that's just the way it is, he thought to himself.
"... Here?"
Orphen asked, folding his arms. It was a room on the second floor, a bit secluded. It was also a little cramped and, like the rest of the house, had been unoccupied for ten years, piled high with dust. Even so, the layout itself was neatly arranged so that it didn't feel so stuffy. The window was still pitch black from the inside, but the light from Orphen's wisp illuminated the interior. Lining the bookshelves were old novels, which would've been hard to find in this kind of suburb, and an empty vase. On the desk, a black-and-white photograph stood facing them. On the bed was an anthropomorphic stuffed bear, along with a pillow.
"Yes. I forgot something."
Hirietta nodded and rushed in. Orphen continued to listen as he followed her into the room.
"Is this your room?"
"Yes."
What she picked up was an expensive-looking diary sitting on her desk. As she dusted off the cover, she cradled it to her chest.
What Orphen was more interested in was what sat on the stand next to the diary — a black-and-white photo with a tall, good-natured young man with a nervous-looking girl staring at him. The girl — he recognized at first glance. It was Hirietta. Her appearance had hardly changed, but the photos were quite old. If anything, he'd say she became a bit more twisted. Perhaps because of the large ribbon that adorned her not-so-long hair in the photo.
The young man standing beside her was smiling comfortably with his hand on the girl's shoulder. Orphen noticed that, while not much had changed on the outside, it was a far cry from what he looked like today — Sammy.
"Do you want this picture?"
"... No, not really."
Hirietta spoke plainly and turned to face him. The body of the bodysuit, which perfectly traced the curves of her body, swayed provocatively.
She twisted her lips sarcastically and asked.
"You have something to ask me, don't you?"
"No, nothing."
Orphen shrugged his shoulders casually. After he'd regained his strength, he'd healed his left arm. His physical condition wasn't great, but he was generally calm.
"To be blunt, I came to keep an eye on you. For some reason... I thought if I left you alone, you wouldn't leave of this mansion."
"...What makes you think that?"
"You're going to stay here, in this house that's soon going to burn, and you're going to end it with Sammy, aren't you?"
Orphen's words made her cheeks twitch ever so slightly, but only slightly.
"I have no intention of doing that. I was going to stay here until the house was set on fire. But it's my duty to see him off at his deathbed."
"Is it because you loved him?"
"... Yes."
"Even though you were just a girl of 15 at the time?"
"Maybe because I was such a young girl."
She stroked the cover of the diary — and then, casting her eyes around for a place to sit, sat down on the dusty bed, and continued.
"He — Sammy, he'd been so good to me — to me, a runaway girl of unknown origin. He gave me this diary for my birthday, and that's not all — everything in this room was given to me by Sammy. It all belonged to his sister, who had died of illness. I thought it was a little insensitive, but I didn't mind if it was a momento to her. He taught me how to read and write and even asked Phonogolos to be my guardian and to let me live in this house. Phogolos agreed..."
"Whatever Sammy's intentions were, I'm sure Phonogolos had his own."
Orphen said this with some ulterior motive — Hirietta was on board with the idea. No, maybe she originally wanted to talk to him about it on her own terms. Her anger flashed for just a moment in her eyes before answering.
"Why else would that stingy son of a bitch take care of someone he has no connection with, providing food, clothing, and shelter."
"So all along, Phonogolos was going to use you as a test subject for the creature, not Sammy, wasn't he?"
Hearing this, Hirietta only smiled sarcastically. She caressingly stroked the cover of the diary with her finger.
"Yes. No one in their right mind would suddenly think to sacrifice their own assistant. It would just add to their burden. However, I don't know if Phonogolos had any common sense left. He was scared of something, even though he didn't know what it was, and he was trembling... He'd gone crazy. And this suit—"
She gestured to indicate the black leather suit.
"That Phonogolos, he built this to become my creature skin. It was made to fit my body when I was fifteen, so it's pretty tight now. When I first saw it, I thought 'I can kill Sorcerers with this... or I can kill Phonogolos."
(Don't tell me it was Hirietta who converted Phonogolos into a creature?)
Orphen had the thought, but decided not to ask. Instead, he asked something else.
"So you ended up being converted into a creature?"
She quickly blurted out a response.
"No — Sammy rescued me just as I was about to be thrown into the incubator. Instead, he took my place, and became the subject — in a different basement from the one before. Phonogolos only sighed, said something about a change in plans, and just went ahead with the conversion."
She tapped the edge of the bed.
"All I could do was watch as Sammy was turned into a creature inside that incubator, day after day. At the moment he finally ceased to be a human being, he said to me, 'Kill me.' From that moment on—"
And a chilly smile froze at the corner of her mouth.
"From that moment on, he became the sponsor of the Fool's Dog, Hirietta. My first, my last, my only."
"You're getting... a little worked up, aren't you?"
Orphen asked, and she snorted.
"Don't mock me — I don't need a tissue. It's just a memory of my first love, nothing more than that. We parted in such a bizarre way. I've fallen in love with other men over the past eight years, but I still feel obligated to keep my promise to him. He saved my life when I'd lost my way. So many times I tried to kill Sammy, but there was nothing I could do. So for the past eight years, I've been searching for a sorcerer powerful enough to kill him. When I heard rumors that you had disappeared from the Tower, I couldn't help but cheer. I knew that if I could find you, you'd surely put an end to Sammy. I wasn't wrong. I even used a strange guy like Ostwald to track you down. It wouldn't have been so funny if it had all ended up being in vain."
"I just... I don't get it."
Orphen looked at her with a stern expression.
"I've been wondering... I haven't seen Sammy ever since I let you go. Except for that one bit that possessed Cleao. Where is he now? You know where he's at, don't you?"
"He's right here in this mansion. When he's not needed, he's always here somewhere. Though, if he decides to hide somewhere, we'll never be able to find him. He can get into any crevice."
"Then I wonder why he hasn't attacked me?"
"He's just confused because you destroyed the creatures he was working with. He didn't think anyone could do such a thing. Now, you said you were going to set the house on fire. So can you kill Sammy, Orphen?"
Orphen replied, somehow feeling more and more as if he were talking to an enemy.
"If he's spread all over the mansion, that's a good thing."
With a mumble, he walked up to the window in the room, which had wooden boards hammered over it, and with a blow of his fist, he smashed it open. Crack! The boards shattered, and dazzling light shined into the darkened room. It was still late afternoon, so they had some time before evening.
Then, through the window, black smoke billowed in.
As he brushed the smoke away with his hand, Orphen looked back at her.
"It looks like it's starting. Oops — Looks like Cleao asked Majic and Vulcan both. Seems Vulcan's on fire down there... Oh well, it's something every time."
"Can fire kill Sammy?"
Hirietta asked.
"Of course it can. His body is made of gas, and its properties are similar to oxygen. Burning such things causes a reaction in which the oxygen is compounded with other substances. This house is made of wood and... when heated, Sammy will compound with the other flammable substances and be sealed away. Eventually, he'll return to the earth."
"............"
Hirietta seemed to gulp. Orphen turned to her.
"I can use my magic to help us escape this mansion. If you want to be by Sammy during his last moments, I won't stop you, but if you stay here, you'll be dead in ten minutes. I'm just letting you know, I won't be staying here with you."
He said it as a provocation, but Hirietta only gave a small nod — she didn't respond. Orphen realized with some disbelief that maybe she really had intended to stay.
"Hirietta — Sammy died eight years ago. If you can't accept that, you can take a few steps back and say that I killed him. You don't have to feel guilty about it."
"I thought you weren't going to stop me? Oh, right."
"... What?"
"I just wanted to say thank you."
"For what?"
Orphen asked, and Hirietta shrugged her shoulders in a gesture of resignation.
"When Phonogolos told you about Sammy, you were angry, weren't you? That made me happy."
"... You know..."
Orphen clenched his fists.
"If you're going to stay here, I won't stop you. There's no cure for a death wish — no words, and no sorcery that can help it. If I may give you my personal opinion, though—"
"What would you say?"
Orphen was at a loss for words for a moment. What could he say?
"I don't want to see someone like you die."
He answered with a straight face. Then—
Hirietta collapsed, laughing hysterically. Orphen, astonished, continued to chastise himself for having said such a dumb thing.
"AAAAAHAHAhahahahahahahahaaaa!"
Vulcan's laughter echoed in front of the burning house, his arms folded. On the banner he carried over his shoulder, written in pencil in large letters, were the words "The Vulcan Company's Third Glamorous Convention — Let's make that miserable loan shark happy by setting him and the monsters on fire!"
Vulcan continued to exclaim with pride.
"This is it! This is the moment I've been waiting for!"
"............"
The assassin, Kozen, was watching Vulcan with an overt 'is this guy all right?' sort of look. Dortin ignored his brother with a sigh and rushed toward Majic and the children of the 'Company', who were spreading oil around the mansion.
"There you go! Hey, I told you not to get near the fire! Lloyd!"
Majic was standing idly behind Cleao, who was strangely giving instructions to the children. Dortin tugged at the hem of his shirt. The blond boy turned his eyes toward him.
"What is it?"
Dortin answered anxiously.
"It's just... Well, you know... I was wondering if this was okay. I don't know if it's okay to let the people of the village burn down a house... without the owner's permission..."
"I don't think it's okay either..."
Majic replied with a matter-of-fact expression, even if he didn't really believe it. Dortin groaned.
"What should we do? Maybe we should burn the loan shark and let him take all of the blame, instead of my brother?"
"You say some pretty terrible things in secret..."
Majic paused for a moment and glanced up at the roof of the house, where the fire had started.
"I'm sure Master has an idea... Or maybe he doesn't. I'm sure he'll take responsibility, though."
"That's irresponsible."
Dortin argued, and Majic frowned, as if offended.
"What are you talking about? I'm not irresponsible, I've just got a really flexible and reasonable attitude to let my Master take care of all that."
"Flexible...?"
When he asked doubtfully, suddenly where was a scream behind them. It was his brother's voice.
"Owowowowowowww!"
They turned around to see that the children had poured oil on Vulcan from behind, perhaps in retaliation for being chased around earlier. Stray embers in the air had set him on fire.
"Looks like he's on fire."
Dortin and Majic muttered to themselves as they watched Vulcan, who was trying in vain to escape from the flames gnawing at his back. Funnily enough, he really did look just like a tanuki that'd been sent scrambling from a forest fire.
When Cleao saw it, she also gasped and started shouting.
"Oh! Kauffman, bring me some water!"
"Yes, sister."
"Oh! This is more oil, not water!"
And — up beside Vulcan, who was even more on fire than he had been before, and was now running around in a frenzy — Kozen approached them. The assassin had blood stains here and there on his combat gear, but they didn't appear to be from deep injuries. Kozen gave them a vague look that could've been directed at either Dortin or Majic, and spoke.
"I've had enough. I'm going home."
"O-okay..."
Majic answered, but looked at him with a curious look.
"But why did you help me in the first place?"
"............"
Kozen seemed to ignore him for a moment, but after that, opened his eyes.
"No reason, really."
His gaze wandered toward Cleao.
He heard Majic groan.
"A-Ahh — If you're interested in Cleao, you shouldn't try it. I assure you, it won't end well for you."
"I have no interest in getting invested in a milky girl like that, even if I'm almost thirty!"
The assassin shouted, looking quite upset. Maybe he's really onto something, Dortin thought, with a rear glimpse of his own mind.
Dortin looked up at Kozen.
"Well, whatever the reason, if you're heading off, have a nice day, mister Waisetsu."
"That's Kozen the Shadow."
"Right."
Then Majic spoke up from the side.
"Because even a shady assassin with no special skills or traits can have some rude self-assertions."
"... Nobody said that, but..."
Dortin said to Majic, looking up at Kozen with a fearful sideways glance. Kozen, having given up, sighed and silently left the burning mansion...
"I wonder if by chance..."
Majic could be heard muttering.
"The reason he became an assassin is because he already begrudgingly skulks around so much?"
(I don't think so.)
Dortin didn't say it out loud, but he watched Kozen's back as he departed, still listening to the sound of the mansion collapsing, getting ever louder as it burned more and more, and the cursing of his brother who was running wild, yet to be extinguished.
It wasn't like he had any human senses left—
So he didn't feel any pain. That much never occurred to him.
The only thing he felt was that his mass was growing thinner. Flames roared around him, taking over his body.
Where exactly his stolen body would go — he did not know.
All he knew was that if things continued like this, every part of him would go somewhere else. His thoughts were dominated by the vague question of what would be left behind when his "everything" was gone. Perhaps the only thing left would be his true "self". It felt unreal to have nothing left. Regardless, the flames burned through the mansion for about an hour before finally disappearing.
His body seemed to have 'gone away', for the most part, but his consciousness wasn't gone.
............
"Its been a long day. Since we came to this village."
He heard a mumbling voice. A voice that he remembered hearing several times. A few of those times, it seemed as if the voice had made him hopelessly afraid, but he couldn't quite remember. What was it? Could it be Phonogolos? How many Phonogolos' were left in the world?
"I'll thank you for that, Orphen."
This voice was familiar, too — a voice that, for some reason, made him feel a terrible sadness.
"It's not like I'd expect anything else."
"No need to hold back, huh? Even so... this building burned down without a trace."
"It must've been old and dry... Umm."
"What's wrong?"
"Look, there he is."
"............"
The voice seemed to be at a loss for words.
"Looks like there's still a bit that's unburned, Sammy—"
"But... only a tiny bit."
"There's a chance he might regenerate... but there's nothing flammable left around here. It's all burned up."
"No... There's still one thing left."
"Uh, hello? Hirietta?"
She deftly unzipped her back, stripping off her bodysuit in one fluid motion, and cradled his embers to her chest — the handful of black mist that hung miserably in the air, close to her chest. Then, without hesitation, she picked up a metal poker, still red-hot from under her feet, and pressed it against her cleavage.
"Hirietta!"
He screamed from behind her.
But she didn't have time to worry about that — he wasn't even aware of what was happening to him, but at any rate, he could sense that his thoughts and hers were rapidly becoming one. His 'vision' was obscured, mixed with the scene that she was seeing. In his new vision, he saw the burning iron bar scorching her skin to the bone. He felt the greasy sweat break out all over her body — in her senses. The pain was so intense that it reached her internal organs, and she almost fainted from the agony. But more than that, he — and she — thought only of one terribly simple thing.
(Now, I'll never forget you—)
Looking down at the charred burn on her chest — and at Sammy, who was disappearing into that wind — she continued.
"At least, you can sleep on my chest."
And then the fog disappeared. Completely out of the world.
Looking back, Orphen seemed completely stunned. Smiling wryly, Hirietta looked back to him.
"You'll get rid of the scars, won't you?"
She smiled with satisfaction as she put her suit back on again over her bloodied upper body.
Table of Contents
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| (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) |
Fool's Gathering Fool's Trap Fool's Rumor Fool's Confession Fool's Showdown Fools Never Stop |
- Notes
- The line "It's just selfish though, isn't it?" made by Orphen is a Japanese phrase that roughly means 'A cash man', someone who changes their attitude and even their actions according to what's most convenient or profitable for them. For example, how waiters might be overly polite or motivated for people who tip them well. I couldn't quite pin down an English phrase that I felt really conveyed the same meaning, so went with something more literal.