"Successor, Come To My Tower" V6 - Prologue
"I'm not going to kill you."
The woman twisted her wrist as she spoke ever so lightly — the hand that was clutching the man's chest. The man's body was lifted up and shoved against the wall. His expression was tense; he was looking down at the woman with fear in his eyes.
You could say it was a run down house. The pillars had fallen and the tattered walls smelled of rot — a poster from an old theater was peeling off of one of them. There were no windows, and old styled gas lamps hung from the ceiling where prominent stains had formed. The inside of the room was cluttered, and the man's companions were crumpled up on the floor.
Everyone had a similar appearance —rather ordinary. Just like any other man you'd see around the city.
The woman was a little different. She was around 170 centimeters tall, and wrapped in black combat clothes. It was a suit made of a soft fabric, but it had a sheen to it, and when it was illuminated by the weak gaslight, it looked almost metallic. Her twin brown eyes were matched by her black hair — and her eyes were rather charming, even with her mischievous smile.
"I'm not going to kill you. I'm not a murderer."
The woman repeated, and smiled.
"I just... want to know what you know."
"You interrupted our ritual... What are you thinking, witch!"
The man whispered, unswayed. The woman looked around the room without a care, and answered.
"That's right. It wasn't very nice to break up this little meeting of yours, but you guys don't often show your faith."
Aside from the furniture and the men scattered as a result of the brawl, when she looked around, she also saw broken altars, as well as candlesticks, the remnants of past ceremonies. The candlesticks themselves were just commercially available ones, but some were replaced with lumps of chicken.
The woman let out a small sigh.
"Well, I can sympathize. I'm not so foolish that I can't imagine how difficult it must be for a dragon worshipper to live in this city."
"Witch...!"
The man moaned like a repetitive curse. Even if he tried to shake off the woman's hand that held his chest, he couldn't move it at all.
She switched to a more pleasant face.
"To tell the truth, I've been living in seclusion as well. So I can sympathize. But the truth is — this might go faster if I threaten you by burning up two or three of those guys over there on the floor."
And, as if it had just suddenly occurred to her—
"That's right. Maybe this is the faster route..."
"W—Wait!"
The man shouted in haste. It wasn't like he hadn't already known he was being threatened — but this wasn't the time to make uncertain bargains.
The woman smiled.
"Thank you. Oh — I think I thanked you before getting any actual confirmation, so are you going to answer my question, or aren't you?"
"Argh..."
The man groaned, but he didn't refuse.
"Well, thank you once again. It's truly famous, this "Sanctuary Gathering" party you've got going on. Oh wait — I'm sorry, I guess 'famous' isn't much of a compliment to religious organizations like yours."
"You...!"
The man cried out in response to her words.
"Why don't you stop badgering me and tell me what you want to hear!"
"I was waiting for you to get angry."
The woman slowly narrowed her eyes when she spoke. They weren't like the laughing eyes from before, they were cold and quiet.
Her eyes that had previously shown fascination now turned to blades of ice.
With a serious look she stared up at him, and asked the question.
"There is only one thing I want to ask—"
He held his breath.
"The Browning Family, where is their 'World'?"
