"Successor, Come To My Tower" V6 Chapter 2 - Arriving In The Morning
The city of Taphrem was one of the most important cities on the continent — but few people realized that. Mainly because it was the city of sorcerers.
"—That's an extreme statement."
Tifis added while resting against a park bench.
"The general masses don't want to recognize this city. The Aristocratic Federation won't publicly admit that black sorcerers have so much power. What's it called, foreign prestige? That's what I'd say, anyway."
"Heh..."
Cleao absentmindedly nodded and looked around. One of the characteristics of this town was that there were a lot of parks, but that was because the population density wasn't very high. There was a surplus of land — of course, part of the reason why was because the city was completely destroyed by war two times in the past. During the Sand War several decades ago, there weren't any humans involved in direct warfare, but many people fled the city at the time.
The city had been completely restored, and there were no traces of the destruction that had happened anywhere in the city, even in this park. There were no signs of it at all — Even the roadside trees didn't look like they'd been planted in the scorched ruins. The cherry blossoms in the park were lush with leaves. The benches, which were lined up in a haphazard fashion were cluttered with people.
While holding Leki to her chest, Cleao looked past the crowd to the sky. She then placed the little black dragon baby back on top of her head.
Tifis continued while adjusting the collar of his training shirt.
"People from the east half of the continent tend to look down on the west. It's so bad that there are still people who think that we only live in tents in the wilderness. I think people in the capital really fail to understand that there's a world that exists outside of the capital."
"I guess so."
Cleao pleasantly replied, then moved her gaze to the most prominent building in the city. It was far away from where they were at — yet it still rose above the cityscape. A white, chalky tower.
"Is that the World Map Tower?"
The tower had an ivory color to it, and tilted slightly to one side. Even if the wind blew and the clouds drifted, it was still as a statue.
"That's right."
Tifis stood up from the bench.
"It's the largest building in this city — well, I guess in terms of mass the big library next to the tower is bigger, but they also sell tour guides and such. Long ago, the Wyrd dragon race, according to legend, built the tower for the black sorcerers that they had birthed, but... I don't know if that's true. In the past, the Kimrak Church advocated to establish a protection order over the Fenrir Forest. The World Map Tower was included in the scope of that decree. As a result, the Tower was then completely off limits to everyone — Then 40 years ago, the Highest Executive Department broke the ban and entered the World Map Tower. It seems that's when the Sand War broke out, because they were trying to investigate it."
As he walked closer, his long hair flowing in the wind, he pointed at the Tower
"From what we can tell from the exterior of the World Map Tower, it seems to have been carved out of a giant monolith — it wasn't made with building stones, and there's only one entrance, with no windows, not even air holes. The only gateway in is also blocked, and it's always monitored by the black-magic sorcerers of the Tower."
"The World Map Tower. That's a weird name. Is there an origin to it?"
Cleao turned to him and asked. Tifis looked off into space to remember.
"Ah, I think I remember being told that the Wyrd Dragon race — the Nornir — who built the tower once said "If ever you should have doubts about the world, look here." Or something like that. I think it was... A woman named Istashiva, or something like that."
"What about you?"
"... Huh?"
Cleao repeated herself after Tifis' confused answer.
"Well, the dragons built that Tower, and told us to take a peek if we wanted to, right? They built it for sorcerers, after all."
"R—Right..."
"But since the people of the Church said they can't get into the World Map Tower, has anyone not tried to see inside? Don't you want to investigate the Tower?"
Tifis frowned, looking troubled.
"But the Nornir started a war to destroy the sorcerers just after building the tower, which caused the destruction of the old city of Taphrem."
"The old city of Taphrem?"
"Oh, that's the history of the town. The city was built for the very first time as Taphrem City, but it was later rebuilt after it was completely destroyed by the Nornir, back when it was the old city of Taphrem. The current Taphrem city was built after the Sand War."
"... Well, I guess the Nornir people were selfish, too."
Cleao muttered as she pulled Leki from the top of her head. She hugged him to her chest, and as always, he stabilized himself by gripping to her shoulder. As Leki sat there, he curled up and swept his tail against his nose. After he was settled in that position, she looked towards Tifis.
"... What's the Highest Executive Department?"
When listening, Tifis was clearly shocked to hear it — he didn't think he actually knew, and his eyes widened. But when Cleao looked back at him with a confused look, he slowly began to explain.
"It's a group of elders who make the most important decisions... of the Tower... As an organization, it also includes the general affairs department and in the end, all of the office work. However, only the Highest Executive Department has the right to issue orders to each classroom. Conversely, for whatever reason, it's also only the Highest Executive Department that can punish the classrooms. A fight between classes is unconditionally classed as treason. If it weren't, fights between classrooms would be a daily occurrence."
"Classroom..."
Cleao raised her eyebrows, looking blankly into the air.
"What was the classroom Orphen was in?"
"He was in the Childman class, same for my teacher."
"An underling in the classroom... further down the ladder under the Highest Executive department..."
She continued to grumble.
"Maybe Orphen isn't really such a big deal?"
"Don't joke! The Childman class is exceptional!"
Tifis suddenly shouted. Surprised, Cleao drew back, but he came closer to catch up.
"It's said that Childman Powderfield transcends the authority of a single teacher and even has influence with the Highest Executives — but since he disappeared three months ago, the order of the Tower has been rapidly compromised. If you think about it, how much power did he have to hold down the ambitions of the Tower?"
"... I don't understand."
"That's okay."
Patiently, Tifis looked up, holding up a single finger.
"I'll explain the organization of the Tower. After all, the Tower is more than just a school — a powerful association would be closer. It has its own institutions, its own intelligence, its own financial resources, its own economy, and profits... Anyway, it's a single society run by black-magic sorcerers, that's the Tower of Fang."
"............"
Cleao kept silent and nodded. Tifis lowered his head a little.
"The Highest Executive Department is the one that directs — or authorizes — all actions of said organization. It's made up of the highest ranking black-magic sorcerers. They make up the brains of the operation, but not the power of action. That's left up to the classrooms."
He withdrew his finger and held it to his face. He closed his eyes and continued with a sigh.
"The classroom is made up of a teacher and their students — Obviously. It is, in essence, just like a real classroom. The students learn from the teacher. The only difference between these classrooms and a normal classroom is that they're obligated to carry out any orders from the executives."
"Obligated?"
"Yes. In return you can learn from the pinnacle of black magic, the Tower of Fang. If you're ordered to do something, you have to do it."
"... Have you ever been asked something?"
"Pick up fallen leaves, repair the shoe cabinets, etc..."
His tone suddenly lost its lusture, and Tifis answered like a doll. But soon he clenched his fist.
"But it's my dream to become like Master Childman!"
"Are you capable of that?"
"... No... Well, it's just a dream..."
When he abstained, Cleao instinctively laughed.
"But if you become such a strong sorcerer, what will you do?"
"Huh..."
It struck him by surprise, and Tifis replied, blushing a little bit.
"Of course, I'd become one of the Thirteen Apostles. To become a court sorcerer, that's the ultimate goal that everyone is aiming for."
"Yeah? I don't know if I'd want that so badly."
She lightly put her fingertips to her lips. It'd be suitable for Cleao to have a question mark floating around her head. When she stopped talking, Tifis' expression changed, and he opened his mouth again.
"You want to aim for great heights too, don't you? Even Krylan — Uh — Orphen ignored the wishes of the Elders in the past, and tried to become one. As I said before, the central focus of this continent is in the East. At the royal capital."
"... Once you become a court sorcerer, are you going to go to the Kingdom? If so, would you take Pat with you?"
Cleao asked, feeling a bit like walking around. Tifis deflected, turning away to stretch, frowning a little. He deliberately spoke in a lowering, dismissive tone.
"She's my sister, but a sorcerer must be an independant man."
"I don't think being independant means you have to seperate yourself from her, but oh well."
Cleao shrugged her shoulders when she said it. She shifted her body and head. Again staring, towards the big chalky white tower—
"Well, let's go to the World Map Tower next. I want to see it up close, don't you? But, Orphen and Tish are always too busy to take me.
"Sure, but..."
After confirming his reply, Cleao bounced up lightly on the spot and left the park jogging.
She didn't really like sorcerer's way of thinking.
— Or rather, it was unintuitive.
(Everything that they say, it's all just too honorific.)
Cleao thought while she was running. Her sportswear was a little wet with sweat, and she felt like changing. She continued to think to herself while her shoes regularly hit the road.
(It's not just Tifis — It's Orphen and Majic, too. If they're constantly saying I can't do anything on my own, aren't they insisting that I'm incompetent? But no, it's wise to rely on others. Maybe.)
However, Cleao knew it didn't matter. That's not why she felt like complaining—
She was keenly aware that her time spent with Orphen and the others had been rapidly declining over the past few days.
(It's just that... I feel like they've been avoiding me lately.)
She ran through an orderly tree-lined avenue, keeping an eye on Leki, who was wagging his tail. Leki stretched his front legs out and touched her nose for no particular reason.
Cleao kept thinking.
(Majic is also acting kind of funny... Just the other evening, when Tish and I cooked dinner it was exceptionally delicious. He actually wolfed it down for once. What was that? It was almost like he was trying to say goodbye.)
—Then
A sudden thought made her stop in her tracks. At that moment, Tifis quickly overtook her, but turned around with a questioning look.
"... What are you doing? We're not at the World Map Tower yet."
He asked if she had hurt her foot, but she ignored him, and instead Cleao clenched her fist—
"Are they by chance—"
She said, just speaking into the empty space.
"Those two, they wouldn't be planning to leave me with Tish, then run off by themselves, would they?!"
Her intuition was always sharp, but unbeknownst to her, her analysis' were always off, too.
It was evening as they reached the west part of Taphrem City, where they could see continuous mountainous regions lining the horizon. It was a few hours on foot from the city — a distance that would've been less than two hours by horse-drawn carriage. They were surrounded by forests and hills, moving towards a citadel built with ochre bricks.
It couldn't be seen from the city since it was over the mountain. If you came close, you could see three-meter tall walls surrounding the area. There was only one entrance — a steel gate that was, surprisingly, referred to as the main gate. All that was needed to open said gate was second-class citizenship — which meant no past criminal records, donations above a certain amount, and, most notably, some form of celebrity status.
However, if you were a sorcerer, walking up to the gates and speaking to the guards was more than enough. If you were a senior sorcerer, you could even send a messenger ahead of time to arrange for a carriage from Taphrem—
"Well... I don't know how much of that is true, but I've certainly never been kept waiting in front of the gate."
Orphen was watching Leticia as she said it and laughed. The wagon was from the Sorcerer Alliance, and carried the three of him, including him, Leticia, and Majic. They'd gone a long way along the mountain path.
The riding comfort wasn't bad for a large horse-drawn carriage pulled by six horses, but it still shook. Unlike what they'd had in Taphrem City, there was no roof so they could see the gray-haired coachman who was holding the reins. The wind gently stroked the trees, and the sky looked as clear as a water stream.
The carriage was headed towards the highest peak of continental black magic — the Tower of Fang.
"Um..."
Majic interrupted. He blinked and closed his black book.
"What?"
She answered back. Majic answered, his blond hair slightly blowing in the wind.
"What kind of qualifications does a senior sorcerer need?"
"In short, you need to have a position that's higher than a teacher."
And, while thinking on it for a while, she kept on talking while holding her arm.
"Aside from that, if you're 15 years or older, and you qualify as top of your class you can be certified as a senior sorcerer. It's not often that this happens, but you can be recognized as a senior sorcerer if you also do something exceptional, magically, outside of the tower. It's kind of an honorary title."
"—An honorary title."
Leticia continued. She was comfortably sitting on the back seat of the carriage.
"I was appointed top of my class when I was 18. Krylance—"
She stopped halfway through her words. She shrugged her shoulders and rephrased.
"Orphen was promoted early. Around 15, was it?"
"Is that right?"
Majic asked. Orphen grinned.
"You didn't believe anything I told you, did you?"
"Because... it's a bit much to take in? It sounds like a lie when you say you landed the top position at the Tower of Fang."
"There were seven students that belonged to the Childman Class like I did — five of whom were qualified as senior sorcerers. Our class had been the dominant class for several years. There was Hartia, who was the same age as me, and Comicron, who was a year older than me, that never got senior sorcerer because they always came in second place. It was more a matter of luck than ability, though."
"You were the obstacle for Hartia, and Korugon was the one standing in Comicron's way, right?"
As she teased him, Orphen quickly changed his expression. He turned his finger towards Leticia to jab back.
"Tish, you were the one always holding Forte back. It was frankly pitiful to watch. I felt bad for the guy."
"What are you talking about? I've always been content with second place — Mainly because my generation had true geniuses in it."
"Ah, yeah..."
From the side, Majic frowned. When the two of them turned to squabble at each other, he blinked his eyes, as if he was confused.
"Who's who?"
Apparently, he couldn't keep up with the sudden names being tossed out there one after another — Orphen sighed, and tried again.
"Ok... Well, they're all students of the Childman class. Kind of like my brothers and sisters."
"He was the youngest in the classroom."
Leticia said, as she patted him on the head from behind. He continued with his eyes closed.
"Training alongside me — Hartia was the same age, and he now works in the Totokanta Sorcerer Alliance. In terms of strength, he was probably as good as or even better than me, but for some reason his grades were always worse than mine. I don't know if his execution was just bad, or if he was just weaker. So, next is Comicron and Korugon, who were older than us but vied for first and second place."
"Though, neither are still in the Tower. They were fairly powerful sorcerers, but..."
Leticia stammered, her voice quiet. Majic was going to ask about it, but Orphen continued.
"So, the senior group was made up of three people, including Tish. Forte Packingum was the head of the class — he didn't take the top seat but became the teacher's assistant almost immediately. At the time he was certified as a senior sorcerer. And Tish. There was a rumor that if she hadn't been so hysterical, she would've been head of the classroom."
"It was you guys, wasn't it? You were the ones who started those rumors..."
A growling voice rose up from behind him, but he ignored it and continued.
"And the best student of that generation—"
"Died. It was Azalie — My sister."
"............"
Orphen stiffened at what Leticia had just said — with a feeling like a cold finger had been pushed into his organs, and he winced.
But somehow, he kept his composure and continued.
"Yes, Azalie, also known as the Demon Witch. She had the strongest sorcery in the classroom, even compared to Forte, the leader of the class—"
He swallowed his spit without making any noise.
"Azalie, she was more like the teacher's personal agent. Behavior, technology, knowledge, all of those traits were better than the rest of the class, but her sorcery was the most prominent of all. She was also a white magic sorcerer."
"White magic?"
As if surprised, Majic asked. Orphen nodded.
"There has been no one else in history capable of handling white magic and black magic at the same time — or of a white magic sorcerer who escaped the control of the Aristocratic Federation. Now, all of the white magic sorcerers on the continent are imprisoned in the Hazey Falls, managed by the Aristocratic Federation. The fact that Azalie was a black magic sorcerer was a good cover, but that information was successfully leaked into the information network of the Aristocratic Federation."
"... But, white magic..."
Orphen continued to answer Majic's hestitant mumbling.
"Yes, white magic, which manipulates time and spirit, has an absolute advantage over black magic, which deals with force and matter, but the number of capable sorcerers is extremely few compared to black magic. The Aristocratic Federation has a very small number of them among the court sorcerers compared to black magic users. The Aristocratic Federation, with its court sorcerers known as the Thirteen Apostles, and these white magic sorcerers, currently boast the greatest power on the continent. Well, to put it more accurately, she was a black magic sorcerer who could also use white magic. Or maybe she was a white magic sorcerer who could use black magic, who knows?"
"What about you, Master?"
"Me? I can't handle white magic."
"No, I mean..."
Majic stroked the cover of the black book on his knee.
"Not you, Master, I mean your teacher. I've heard stories that he could do anything..."
"............"
Orphen was at a loss for words, as if he'd been unexpectedly hurt — he hadn't thought about it. Though—
"No, no matter how scary my teacher was, he couldn't handle white magic either... That is... Let's see. For example, if black magic can hurl a stone far away, white magic could create a jewel from nothing. It's an entirely different tier."
"Well then... Maybe that Childman guy isn't actually that big of a deal?"
Majic said, raising his eyebrows. Orphen sighed and held his hand to his temple. Leticia was speechless in the background.
"As I've said many times, the ability to use sorcery is purely heredity. What you can't do is not an evaluation of your abilities. Whether you can use white magic — or if you can use sorcery in the first place. It doesn't matter. The point is how you use that power."
"Oh... I guess that's true."
"But, I have to say, she's the only one of us who had the potential to surpass our master."
He heard Leticia muttering, mixed up with a sigh.
"But... all that talent was lost to trivial things."
"Right..."
While agreeing, Orphen looked up to the front of the horse-drawn carriage — Beyond the trees, a huge monument was rigidly towering over them...
(Yes... she was lost.)
Orphen thought to himself sorrowfully.
But it wasn't the way that Leticia meant it. He thought about it, how she'd been lost to more than that—
While losing his train of thought, he looked up at the highest peak of black magic on the continent. The "Tower of Fang"...
Then—
"............"
Orphen suddenly felt something, and stopped.
The carriage continued on, without a care in the world.
"Tish..."
In a hurry, she turned her eyes towards him.
"What?"
"Do you know of anyone that might have a grudge against you?"
Her reply was blunt.
"No, I'm not you. I'm an upstanding citizen."
"Then, if you were to be ambushed, it'd be my fault?"
"Yes, it would."
............
The conversation paused for a moment.
After a short pause — Leticia and Majic spoke at the same time.
"Ambush!?"
Perhaps at the same moment even still—
Countless stones started flying towards the carriage from all around them.
They didn't make much noise — but he could see the black spots flying through the air. They all came down around the people on the carriage.
"I spin, the armor of our halo!"
Orphen shouted while raising his hands towards the sky. Strands of light-wolven chains formed a net, and then became walls. With simple stones, it wouldn't be possible to break through this defense—
He thought.
Indeed, when they struck the light net, almost all the stones were destroyed or bounced back. However, there was a single, large silhouette among the stones.
Spotting it at the edge of his line of sight, Orphen grumbled.
(A bottle...?)
At the moment that it hit the barrier, it shattered with a heavy sound. At the same time, liquid poured from the broken bottle—
The colorless liquid never came down on him directly, but spread over the wide net. This type of barrier would've bounced back a thrown stone. Yet, in response to the heat and mass, the liquid that was likely made up of different chemicals, made a violent sound.
It sounded almost like fried meat grease, and generated a thin black smoke!
"Uwaaah!"
He heard Majic's voice crying behind him. A pungent odor burned his nostrils. Orphen screamed with his last breath while shielding his nose and mouth with his left hand.
"I breath, the flowing angel!"
While casting the spell, he waved his free right arm. A strong air current was dragged out by the motion and pushed the poisonous fog away. At the same time, the light net disappeared.
"What is this!?"
While letting out a loud scream, the white-haired man jumped off of the coachman's seat. Orphen clicked his tongue and shouted.
"Wait! Don't stop the carriage—"
"Krylancelo, wait!"
Even though she panicked, Leticia caught his arm while calling out his old name. She kept struggling to restrain him as he tried to jump out of the carriage to bring back the fleeing coachman.
"We're surrounded—"
"What did you say...?"
In the Childman classroom, they were the only two who had been professionally trained in the art of combat — just him and her. He, Orphen, learned how to fight through "ambush attacks" in the form of assassination techniques. She, Leticia, was trained in "Defensive" combat. Even with sorcery, she was good at defending herself.
As a result — Orphen had been told that she could tell, for example, how many enemies there were in situations like this, and how they were positioned around them for the ambush — In other words, she could tell if there was another presence in the area, or a threat. She could probably guess the number of people and the situation based on experience and intuition. It was hard to understand, because he wasn't aware of these things, but she assured him that they were surrounded. So, he had no choice but to listen.
And... almost as she predicted, the man who'd fled the carriage and tried to run away across the road, let out a sharp cry and fell to the ground.
Then... A man with a white hood covering his face appeared from the woods, and sat above the fallen man.
"Dragon — worshippers...?"
Orphen nearly choked on his words—
The man in the white hood didn't answer, he was silent, holding an iron bar in his hand — he stepped over the knocked over, and now unconscious man — and came towards them. Furthermore, when they listened to the footsteps around them, they noticed that more men in similar white robes were showing up from the forest and surrounding the carriage.
Apart from the white hood, they wore ordinary clothes, with assorted weapons in their hands, all different sorts. There were iron bars, kitchen knives, as well as garden hoes and sickles. Their white hoods were characteristic of the dragon worshippers in Taphrem City, and although their faith was directly hostile towards sorcerers, they somehow managed to live in the city by hiding their face behind those hoods.
"M... Master...?"
With a fearful look on his face, Majic looked at him questioningly.
Orphen was back to back with Leticia, in a way that sandwiched Majic between them in the carriage. The number of dragon worshippers showing up around the carriage equalled about twenty people — and that many they could handle, even while protecting Majic.
However, that was only if they were willing to kill them with magic.
(Shit—)
Orphen glared at the man who first appeared with a look of disgust.
(We're surrounded — On top of that, we're all in the carriage. The situation isn't good. All enemies possess a weapon. They even used poison, so they're definitely planning to kill us.)
If he fought with his bare hands, he could probably handle four of five people at once — and thinking that, Orphen whispered behind him.
"How many people can you handle at the same time?"
Leticia answered honestly.
"With my bare hands... I think I can handle maybe two people."
"Are there any weapons?"
"I think there's a coachman sword for self defense, but..."
"I understand."
Orphen muttered, then opened the fist that he'd been holding.
"I'm heading out — Tish, back me up."
"Master, what about me?"
Majic raised his voice, but Orphen didn't turn around.
"Don't do anything."
He could feel Majic's silence, but there was no time to worry about that. They were closing in, closer and closer.
(If they crowd any closer, we'll be taken out all at once—)
At that moment, Orphen jumped into the coachman's chair. Suddenly, the dragon worshippers started making noise.
He jumped onto the platform and aimlessly grabbed the hilt of the sword that he had seen out of the corner of his eye. It was a little heavy — and the blade wasn't very practical, but he lifted it anyway, leaving only the scabbard on the floor of the platform. Holding the sword in one hand, Orphen jumped off the coachman's platform without hesitation. As soon as he hit the gound he looked over and saw a young man raising a single-edged saw.
"......!"
Orphen took a small breath. He'd already predicted that this would be the first man to charge him. As he exhaled he drew the sword towards his body, and caught the saw that swung down on his blade. Clang, on that short note, the saw was repelled. At the same time his sword slid from his hand and fell to the ground. For a moment his field of vision — rather, the inside of his eyes vibrated...
He didn't understand what happened the next moment. Maybe he'd just closed his eyes — but no, that wasn't possible. In his lungs, the breath that he was trying to exhale collided with the breath that he was inhaling, and pain shot through his body. It was as if his body had automatically begun to breath in a different rhythm than it normally would.
Then, suddenly!
He was startled by a sound — but it was the sound of his own heel kicking the ground — Orphen finally snapped back to reality. He looked down and saw the young man screaming and holding his broken knee. His hood shifted a little, enough that he could see his mouth spewing screams and spit.
(...What...?)
He had a bad feeling. Orphen looked left and right with just his eyes. Because he'd struck down one person in the siege, the next opponents would obviously come from the left and right, likely at the same time. That — just as it had before — was as expected.
And this time, he was keenly aware of it.
He stopped thinking, as if it time had slowed.
From the right, a long industrial hammer, and from the left, a sickle swung down. Orphen tried to make a wide leap — but his body refused to move. He was able to step back just a bit — a single head's worth — and the head of the hammer grazed the tip of his nose before falling to the ground. The sickle hadn't even reached him in the first place, since it was so poorly aimed.
Orphen didn't intend to wait for the fallen hammer to rise again. He held his breath — then took half a step towards the wielder of the hammer — and released the breath again!
— At the same time, he slung his fists forward.
The fists were driven into the man's chest which bent from the pressure, and he watched the man fall over in agony. He turned around and swung the back of his fist towards the man with the sickle. It grazed his nose, and Orphen a rather large step towards his opponent. Far enough that their bodies passed by each other — and at the same time, he rammed his elbow into the man's body.
And... with a slight noise, that man also collapsed on the spot.
Then, it was quiet—
(What...?)
Orphen looked down at his body in disbelief. No — It wasn't his body that had changed...
After only a few seconds, his heart palpitated violently — but that soon stopped. Then it was quiet, and even his body temperature seemed to drop.
(This awareness — My senses... They're incredibly sharp...)
He suddenly raised his head and looked back at the carnage. Although the horses were excited from the attack, they weren't running because there wasn't any coachman — Their attackers and Leticia, who had been providing support, all seemingly forgot their respective roles and were staring at him.
Majic seemed unchanged from usual, he simply didn't know what had happened.
As usual, he almost wanted to laugh — but Orphen silently picked up the sword at his feet.
He beat down the remaining dozen people himself.
"... This is a mess."
While listening to Leticia muttering, Orphen approached the first of the raiders — the man with the iron pipe who'd showed up at the beginning. He heard Leticia grumbling somewhere behind him. There were twenty-three men (that he had counted) fallen at the side of the road. They were crying out in various degrees of agony, the sound of which now filled the air. On the coach, Majic was looking after the unconscious coachman.
Since there weren't any rope around, none of the assailants were restrained — but Orphen was somewhat certain they wouldn't be moving around for a while regardless.
Leticia continued to mumble.
"We didn't have backup or anything. If you could take care of this many people by yourself, I wish you hadn't made it seem so serious."
He hadn't thought he was capable of this, though—
He was about to say something back when the man with the iron pipe opened his eyes. He dropped what he was going to say, and turned his attention back to the man.
"Ah...aarrgghhhhh..."
He was breathing hard, as if he had internal chest injuries. Orphen grabbed the man's shoulder.
"So... It's an interrogation."
"This — pain..."
The man raised his arms to resist, but his body turned stiff, as if he'd been struck by an electric shock. Orphen sighed and spoke to the man.
"That blow might've caused damage to your internal organs — You shouldn't try to move, and don't breath too deeply."
"Bastard — I don't need your advice... Certainly not from a sorcerer!"
He couldn't see his expression because of the hood, but what he could see of his eyes showed clear signs of rage. After throwing a troubled gaze towards Leticia, who just shrugged, he turned to the man again.
The man, contrary to his will, seemed inclined to listen to his advice — He couldn't move, and the pain was obstructing his breathing. Eventually, with signs of sweat above his eyes, he returned the stare.
Since it didn't seem like the guy planned on talking, Orphen opened his mouth first.
"Why did you attack us?"
When asked, the color of the man's eyes changed—
Perhaps, he had been waiting to hear it. His voice was tinged with joy, and the man declared.
"For my friends... to get revenge for them!"
"Revenge?"
Orphen frowned.
"I don't recall ever doing anything to earn a grudge from you dragon worshippers — So, I'm not sure how..."
But the man instantly retorted.
"Your very existence is offensive! — You're absolutely unforgivable!"
"So, this is just indiscriminate terrorism."
It was Leticia who spoke up. She came up from behind them and continued.
"We can't leave it at that. So watch your mouth."
"You witch!"
The man spit his words — and incredibly — was able to sit up. He thrust his trembling fist into the air and shouted.
"How dare you — You people! You slaughtered our comrades—"
Then—
"Demon Sword of Puanuuk!"
"—!?"
The sudden voice made Orphen turn his head, looking for signs — The voice came from the direction of the carriage — but at the same time he looked around—
Whoom!
The sound passed in front of him. When he looked over to where it came from, there was nothing there — nothing at all, just wind blowing through the empty space. An empty space in front of him, where he should be seeing the white hood. As well as, of course, the head inside the hood.
The furious dragon worshipper's head had been blown off by the sound — possibly heat waves — and fell to the ground, his head uncharacteristically cold.
"Who was that!?"
Orphen screamed. Leticia was pretty conspicuous, and she was looking in the direction where they'd heard the voice, scanning the location. It hadn't been spoken from the ground.
"Master...!"
He heard Majic screaming in disbelief. The boy was pointing to the trees in the nearby forest. Orphen didn't answer, but his head was raised and his body stiff—
"You're..."
The voice answered from the trees, calling down to Orphen.
"Krylancelo, huh? — You almost look like you're not happy to see me, but I've come to pick you up. I hope you're feeling as nostalgic as I am."
The voice — the man, he kept looking down at him, smiling like a fool.
"The name's Hydrant, remember? Surely you remember me?"
The man spoke his name, and his smile widened.
"Yes, I remember you."
Orphen looked at him, then back at the headless corpse. Then — He suddenly heard Majic screaming...
"A—Ahh, Master!"
The screams always started with his name — and thinking about it, he turned towards his student. He was pointing to something lying at his feet.
"Hey, that — uhh — he has no head! He's dead, isn't he!?"
"... Have you never seen a dead body?"
Orphen asked in a dark voice. Majic kept is finger rigidly pointed—
"What? — Umm. Uhh, yes?"
"Have you ever seen a person die?"
"U—Uuhhmmm."
As he answered, his voice grew gradually quiter. Orphen capped off his statements with a sigh.
"When people die, you're usually left with these things. Even if they're murdered—"
While speaking, he naturally shifted his attention from Majic to Hydrant, who was in the tree. He raised his arms and shouted—
"I release, the Sword of Light!"
At that moment, a huge wave of white light fired from his downward-swinging hand — The photothermal waves sliced vertically, bursting across the sky and the ground — including the tree where Hydrant was standing. The intensity of the heat wave, the worst he'd ever seen — or rather, hadn't intended to release — dried out the surrounding area in an instant. The sweltering atmosphere rose up immediately, along with a cloud of dust, but the cold air pushed it back down towards the ground—
The photothermal wave had completely burned through a corner of the forest before it finally subsided. The smoldering remains lingered in the surrounding air.
"............"
Orphen drew his right arm, which had swung down, close to his body and held it. The whole arm was slightly burned, and after a minute, the smell of his burnt arm hair reached his nose—
"... What could possibly make you so angry that you lose control of your magic?"
It was Hydrant's voice, this time from behind him. He slowly looked back.
He was about twenty years old — No older than Orphen. He had a strangely beautiful looking face, but it was only the right side. However, the left half of his face was ugly — Or actually, that could be a bit of a misunderstanding. He didn't even have a left half of his face.
Even his eyelids and cheekbones were scourged by a gigantic scar — all the way to his left ear — and on that side of his head, there wasn't even any hair. The left eye was barely visible, buried in the deep scar that reached from his temple to the tip of his chin.
He was wearing a robe from the Tower, similar to Leticia's. He held a mask in his left hand, which normally hid his face. As he put it on, Hydrant continued.
"That was an extraordinary amount of heat. You almost killed me."
He said sarcastically, then glanced at Leticia.
"Right, Tish? Only half of my face has survived, so I'd like to take care of the half I have left."
"So, Hydrant, who reports directly to the Highest Executive Department has come here to welcome me? Could it be that I've become popular?"
Leticia tilted her head with those remarks. Although she had a sarcastic look in her eyes, there was also a sense of caution—
Hydrant gave a pleasant nod. He was surrounded by the 20 dragon worshippers who were rolling around on the ground and groaning.
"Of course. The Tower welcomes you, you know."
That word — "welcome" — left his mouth and was immediately swept away by the wind that blew towards the Tower.
Orphen was unconsciously looking up at it, at the Tower that rose above the treeline. The Tower welcomes you.
Table of Contents
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| (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) |
Starting At Night Arriving At Morning Rushing Through The Launch Break Moving Fast In The Afternoon Footsteps Echoing After Sunset Burning At Midnight Missing The Sunrise |