Light from the Ceiling in Centaphalas
The capital Centaphalas. Now the light poured down from the ceiling instead of rising from the floor. Bright illumination filled the train car, replacing the chilly glow of the emergency lights. Unfortunately, though, even long after we'd set off, the sturdy metal shutters stayed clamped over the windows. No point in sitting by the window after all.
I gave up on the windows opening and turned my head sideways. Near the doors, those people who'd been turned into objects caught my eye. Gears embedded in their cheeks and arms trembled faintly. Their faces and eyes were deathly pale and shaking, while the parts without machinery were slick with moisture. Their bodies partially fused with machine parts—it looked so much like a horror movie that it barely felt real. They got what was coming to them for trying to kill people, so I didn't feel particularly sorry for them.
Lower my gaze a bit more, and there was a middle-aged man in a suit, lying with cloth bound around his stomach. His right hand, placed over the wound, glowed faintly green. The light pulsed in time with his heartbeat, clinging to his fading life.
And then my eyes shifted to the one who'd handled this whole mess single-handedly. Lambda Lilion. She sat alone, legs elegantly crossed, in a seat much too large for me. A worn notebook lay open on her snug black pants, and her gaze was fixed on it. A pen spun lazily in one hand, like she was whiling away a leisurely afternoon in a study. She'd mentioned being a detective earlier—maybe that was one of her tools? I'd seen detectives with notebooks in stories, so it piqued my interest. Still, I couldn't just go over and ask to see it. She probably wouldn't show anyone else, and honestly, Lambda Lilion scared me a little.
The train rattled on. I sank deeper into my oversized seat, opened my bag, and did one last check to make sure nothing was damaged. Slide. First thing: the acceptance letter. They'd told me to bring it, so that had to be the most important. Good—it was intact, not a tear anywhere. Besides that, a couple changes of clothes. A pouch of emergency meds. And... a box? What the hell? I didn't remember packing this.
A small box. I opened it to find lumps of bright red sugar that should have formed clean flower patterns. Instead, they were full of malformed pieces that didn't quite make the shapes. I popped one in my mouth. Less sweet than factory snacks, but it left a unique sweetness mixed with a slight bitterness. This was processed from the flowers grown back home in the village. Not broken from when I tossed the bag earlier—these were the rejects from production, our share of the scraps. Mom and Dad must have slipped them in. Mmm. This wasn't just sugar...
That's right. After a moment's thought, I grabbed the box and stood. The green light on the man's right hand was flickering out, so I headed his way. His sunken eyes, murmuring in pain, lifted to me.
"Hey, mister. Eat this and recover your mana."
I pulled out a small lump and fed it to him. His eyes went wide. The dying light brightened decently again.
"Th-thanks... kid."
His groans shifted from agony to pained suffering, but his survival odds had gone up, so call it a win. I headed straight to Lambda Lilion.
"What's this?"
"A snack. The stuff that doesn't make the cut for sale looks like this, but it works just as well."
I opened the box for her. Her cross-shaped pupils dilated slightly, the gears inside clicking faintly. I'd seen them enough times now to get it—those gears in her eyes weren't physical. One traced an arc that should've protruded from her face if it were real.
She'd observed me plenty; now I was observing her right back. She shifted her gaze to the box. Picking up one of the more intact pieces, she rolled it between her fingers.
"Deep crimson. Five radial petals. Eritros, is it?"
She identified the main ingredient on the spot.
"Yeah. Scraps left over from processing back home."
She examined it from every angle after my answer, then popped it into her mouth without hesitation.
"From Rubella, then."
"You got that from this?"
My village name slipped out in seconds. How?
"To infuse this level of high-grade Eris mana into a sugar-processed treat, only that place around here has what it takes."
Crunch crunch. Lambda Lilion bit straight through the candy-hard lump and swallowed. Whoa, chowing down.
But I'd never heard one term before.
"Eris?"
"Mana recovery drug made by concentrating factory-grown Eritros. Your village wouldn't have seen much of it. So, what do you want in return?"
She licked her fingertips and asked me. She thought I'd given it expecting something? Better not say it was nothing, or this could get annoying. From our brief chats, she wasn't the ordinary type.
"I do want something."
"What?"
"A thank-you. Those are hard to get, right?"
Click-click. The gears in her pupils spun faster. Not real-world gears, but did they really turn? Made me wonder.
"Exceedingly so. Very well. You win this round, human."
"You're a tough one."
I snapped the box shut with that assessment. As I turned to head back to my window seat, I spotted people far at the back. Exhausted faces melting into their chairs. Right—they'd been through a train hijacking or whatever. No wonder they were wiped.
I returned to my seat and waited quietly. Time passed, and the train slowed to a stop.
I grabbed my bag and stood. People at the back rustled around, packing up to leave. The car turned chaotic.
Shiiiing. Amid the disorder, a clear metallic sound rang out. I turned to see the gear-fused people reverting, expelling machine parts. Looked irreversible, but magic world perks? Back to normal.
They stared blankly at themselves. One bolted up and ran for the doors. The others snapped to, screaming as they fled after him.
I rose leisurely, as if it had nothing to do with me, and asked Lambda Lilion, who stepped into the aisle with casual poise.
"You're just leaving them?"
"A detective's job on commission is finding the cause of the crime, not arresting people."
True enough. Catching and judging criminals was for the authorities. Minor issue: the Guardian Knights meant to do that were causing the problems. But it wasn't my business anyway, so I shouldered my bag and left my seat.
Thud thud, click clack. Eerily like boarding the train. Me walking ahead, Lambda following.
Short walk down the corridor to the doors. The snack bar area was spotless. Even the hole in the ceiling was repaired so faintly you wouldn't notice without knowing.
And in one corner: the guys who'd just bolted, collapsed and bound in black metal restraints. Before them stood a tall, muscular man in what looked like a dark blue-black uniform.
"Kid. Hands on your head, lie down slowly."
Authoritative tone. Ordering me? Guardian Knight uniform? Right—terror incident, of course there'd be investigation. Proper country and all. So... what about my enrollment?
Questions swirled, but resisting would just land me with the detained crew. I started to comply. Or tried to.
Swoosh. Suddenly my nape lifted into the air, limbs dangling.
"This one's my assistant, Frantus Knight."
Her razor-sharp eyes flicked not to me, but above—to whoever held me.
"Exorcist... I was told you were the only civilian volunteer on this op."
"Fetch the commander."
Less acquaintance, more like Lambda outranked him—or used to be higher up. Whatever. Seemed like staying quiet would sort itself out, so I did.
The big guy sighed faintly, pulled a smartphone-like device from his body, and called somewhere. Yes! They had those! And fancier than expected—hologram projecting! Awesome!
While I geeked out, Frantus gave a curt report and got the okay to send us out. He stepped aside from the doors. I dangled my way outside.
Surprisingly, just a few people waited—not a tense atmosphere. But not nothing happening either. Big guys, small ones, none looked like plain suits. Plainclothes cops, probably.
They approached fast as I was set down, then froze. All shuffled awkwardly back—except one closing in.
A elderly gentleman with a cane and impeccable suit, white hair peeking from his top hat. But his stride was leisurely, belying his age. Up close, his bold features and weathered expression turned not to me, but to Lambda carrying me.
"The Exorcist wouldn't take a child as assistant. For his safety, let the boy go."
The old man's tone aimed to separate me from Lambda, not harm me.
"Worry not, Cradle. This one's a human who bested me after ages."
Sympathy flickered on the old man's face—like seeing forbidden fascination on someone's. Then my feet hit the ground with a thud.
Story not over, so I watched quietly. A ripping sound from behind; a gloved hand in white held a paper over my head. The old man took it with his own gloved hand.
He glanced, eyebrow twitching, then sighed softly. I shot Lambda a puzzled look.
"No thought to reclaim the title of Exorcist?"
"The Guardian Knights bore me now. And you'd not forget I'm your senior, would you?"
Playful tone. Lambda had been Guardian Knight. Obvious even to me, so he knew.
His gaze shifted to me.
"Say nothing of what happened here until tomorrow."
By tomorrow, it'd be handled. Scary stuff. He called someone over like our business was done. A young man ran up; he ordered us escorted to safety, then sat on a platform bench, eyeing the train. No goodbyes—cold as ice.
Our escort kept sneaking wide-eyed glances at Lambda but said nothing, leading us away. Train station side area. He opened a "Staff Only" door to a crowded space, saluted halfway—hand to chest, then dropped awkwardly. Nodded slightly and hurried back to the platform.
There, I turned to Lambda.
"Thanks for the help."