Verhert. (2)
Verhert could be simply described as a village built along the ridgeline at snowline altitude.
Or an independent nation without borders, home to some thousand people, standing smack in the middle of eternal snows.
Verhert was structured like gates: the First Gate, Second Gate, Third Gate, Fourth Gate, and finally the Elder Gate, each with its own entry and residency restrictions.
Civilians—including knights and adventurers—could pass through the First Gate, but from the Second Gate on, only wizards were permitted.
Sylvia had already spent two nights in a hotel at that Second Gate.
"......"
It was boring.
She'd expected something extraordinary. Aside from the occasional bizarre mana phenomena, there was nothing to see.
The Verhert conference was still days away, leaving her with nothing to do but study.
"......Intelligence."
But her father's words kept gnawing at her.
Intelligence about a train ambush.
Was it really intelligence?
If not, what was it?
Perhaps incitement.
"Miss. Already fourteen families have arrived."
Syrio entered the room then. He was sucking on eternal snow ice cream, a Verhert specialty.
"Out of the twelve families, who's here?"
"Hm? Ah, everyone except Yukline and Rewind. Oh, and plenty of assistants your age among them. Well, three or four years older, sure—but wanna go meet 'em? Even folks from the kingdom. Chance to broaden your horizons~?"
Yukline.
Above all else, that family troubled her.
"No need."
Sylvia shook her head nonchalantly.
"I'll step out for some air."
"Huh? Ah, sure. Oh, those assistants are at a cafe called 'Snow and Rain,' enjoying tea time~"
Sylvia left the hotel without a word.
She hurried to a deserted spot, rummaged in her pocket. A blue stone came to hand.
The magic stone Deculein had given her as a reward for passing the exam.
"......With this."
She closed her eyes and released her mana.
The stone served as the medium for condensation.
Mana converged on it, tracing a specific outline. At first glance, a silhouette hard to make out.
Sylvia filled the empty lines with color. Her red·blue·green—the original hues—spread like multicolored smoke, soon becoming breath itself, birthing a perfect living creature.
A hawk.
The first fruition of her creative gift. Sylvia reeled briefly from vertigo but soon marveled at its perfection.
As expected. I'm a genius.
"......"
But no room for complacency.
The hawk flapped its wings, blinked, moved of its own accord—but its true worth lay in function.
Sylvia drew a deep breath, shut her eyes.
With lids sealed, nothing should be visible......
Slowly the darkness parted, unveiling an alien vista. The hawk's sight had transferred to her own.
Sylvia opened her eyes, satisfied.
"Fly. Fly and show me what you see."
The hawk nodded as if it understood.
"Follow the train tracks. Show me if anything happens."
Kieeeek—!
Wings beat; it soared.
Sylvia watched it pierce the swirling sleet, lingering long on its graceful form.
......Thirty minutes later.
Shortly after the express train passed the fourth station.
Perched astride the mountains, gazing down at the land, they ignited the bomb glued to the train's underbelly.
The appointed time. The appointed spot.
Boom—!
The blast rent the frame from within, erupting skyward.
The shockwave hurled the cars high, derailing them to tumble off the cliff, crushed formless.
That was the plan.
"......!"
Yet the train hung suspended in midair.
Three cars floated serene, halted.
—As expected.
They paused, awed by prowess beyond imagining, but Deculein's arcane genius hadn't caught them off guard. Hadn't they assembled precisely for this?
No need to kill.
Just pin him down, bar him from Verhert.
The assassin leader signaled with hand signs: charge.
Dozens swarmed the airborne train. Windows shattered first; they slipped inside with lethal grace.
That instant.
Unknown metal lashed out.
Tingtingtingting—!
Like a trap sprung, needle shards ricocheted, skewering vitals from all sides. Straight steel pierced flesh effortlessly.
Dozens became five in a blink.
But those five were the crux.
"......"
Deculein sat composed, regarding them. His finery untouched; the assassins dared not close.
Seeming riddled with gaps—yet deception. Any moment, the metal might frenzy again.
"Hwaaam......?"
Then Allen stirred, eyes heavy-lidded on Deculein.
Deculein enacted the martial manual's lesson.
Precisely: pinching the throat meridian to fell Allen. He deflated like a punctured balloon, slumbering anew.
"......?"
Deculein sensed profound dissonance. So alien he forgot the fray, he studied his hand.
Fingertip feel...... too yielding. Plush. Iron Man's honed senses discerned the subtle dermal variance.
Allen.
One secret anticipated; the other—
"......"
Deculein eyed the unconscious Allen, then outward. Veron approached from afar.
Situation all but concluded.
"It ends."
At his words, assassins grinned mute, fleeing windows. He yearned to seize them—mana insufficient.
"......"
Deculein rose at last. Time to disembark.
"Roen, was it."
"......!"
Roen, crawling for exit, recoiled. Sweat beading, he turned.
"Y-yes. That is......"
"Take this child as well."
"Ah, y-yes!"
Roen scrambled up, piggybacking diminutive Allen—then halted at the door.
Floating train to ground tracks: gulf too vast.
"Um...... if you could lower the train just a touch......"
Deculein shook his head.
This train was his affinity: metal. Immense weight notwithstanding, mere halt feasible.
No further manipulation.
"Descend at need."
Veron vaulted aboard then.
"Ah, knight!"
Roen brightened; Veron hefted him—Allen atop—like baggage.
"I shall leap."
"Eh? No, knight! My mind's not—"
"It is well."
Veron dropped groundward.
"Kwaaaaah—"
Roen's unearthly wail cut short; he blacked out on impact.
Veron deposited Roen and Allen trackside, re-leapt into the car.
"......"
Stood motionless, fixing Deculein. Deculein presumed escort.
Then: vital recollection.
Veron had come here.
On foot.
Deculein summoned his cherished blade calmly. Veron scanned the suspended interior.
"......The train's fore has departed for Verhert. Subsequent actions imminent."
Veron declared.
Deculein replied.
"Is that so."
"Indeed. Now, we two alone."
Deculein glared. Beside him, long-suppressed killing aura bloomed.
Carelessness?
Or Veron's perfection?
Either way: trait's eye gloriously duped.
"Veron."
"Remaining passengers secured."
Veron reassured.
"Thus, your death."
Deculein huffed at the logic's warp.
"......Ponder deeply."
"Hundreds of times pondered. Die you must."
No querying motive. Veron floor-kicked, lunged. Beloved blade barred path—instant draw, 180 whirl.
Chaeng—!
One arc: ten blades tumbled.
Repelled daggers orbited Veron, striking relentless.
Chaeng—! Chaeng—!
Shrill metal scrape. Sparks furious.
Veron's fluid bladework: zero flaw. Defense transcended realms.
"......"
Skill gulf manifest.
Thus: mana exhaustion spells defeat.
Wherefore......
Deculein recalled blades. Guard-dropped Veron assaulted fierce. Deculein eyes open amid onslaught.
Solely: released psychokinesis.
Far preferable to blade's kiss.
"—Ugh!"
Kuuuung—!
Frozen plummet resumed; stalled time flowed.
Off-rails train gravity-claimed, descended.
......Cliff's end eluded.
Fortune: wedged on sheer face. VIP car skewered sole.
"......Ribs."
Fall's jolt snapped ribs manifold—naught more.
Suit-augmented Iron Man frame. Fractures mend swift......
Killing intent roused consciousness.
Lightning flash lunged. Instinct rolled me. Beloved blade summoned simultaneous. Somewhere discarded, it arced, shouldering the knight.
Tong—!
Aura deflected; scant harm.
"Persistent."
Veron snarled, sword aloft. Psychokinesis blade-bound—repelled by sword-qi.
Backflip distanced. Merciless pursuit. Waist-twist evaded shoulder slice, throat-fist extended.
He edged faster.
Elbow side-smashed. Shock rebounded body; slant-slid, sword-gale ejected.
"......!"
True-blade wind battered clavicle to ilium. Mouth-blood. Damage outstripped regen.
Seat-grab rise-attempt: backward glance.
Abyssal drop.
"Tenacious."
Straight-stride approach.
Admission unavoidable.
Veron surpasses present me.
Full-prime duel: loss assured.
Train-hold mana-drained excessive.
"......Betraying Julie?"
Yet flesh, voice brim vitality.
Not mere personality: trait invocation.
Deculein's innate trait, unadded by me.
Death imminent: tension nil.
Deathline brink: heart metronomic.
"Your death ensures my liege lives."
Veron intoned. Unconscious sneer escaped.
"Am I dead now? Your liege? None need perish for none to perish."
Silent swing. Throat-steel aligned shieldward, path barred.
"......Hup!"
Horizontal cleave shield-shattered.
Fragment-piercing—ghost assailed.
......Reason futile.
He is killing incarnate.
Veron sword-high.
Time lagged. Blade-gleam fray: stark thought.
This edge claims: game concludes?
As if naught transpired.
Office reawake?
Or......
......Yet.
Eerie anomaly.
Strike-wrist warped. Heat-shimmer: space roiled turbulent.
Veron puzzled wristward.
Kwa-jik—!
Abrupt crumple; blood-spray. Wrist severed pristine; sword tumbled ownerless.
"—!"
Veron agony-eyed.
Inexplicable—chance unmissed. Stagger-ankle: daggers swarmed.
"Kraaak!"
Balance lost; slid train-off. Gale body-hurled.
"......"
At last: unforeseen hush.
Yet undead.
Intent overflowed persistent.
Side-clutched rise; seat-levered to underbelly peer.
Whiiiing—!
Gale-whirl. There: left-hand dagger underside-stuck. Thus endured.
"......Dagger concealed."
Veron serene-smiled. Gut-rage surged. Frenzy-near.
Voice arctic-calm.
"Veron. Deem you this righteous?"
"......"
Gale-shaken headshake. Grip-fail death-sure: composure aberrant.
"Right? Nay. But memory endures: every evil wrought upon my liege."
Voice venom-laced.
"Unknowable to you."
"......Nay. Known."
Known intimately.
Death-variable: Deculein's myriad evils' recoil. Past atrocities unatonable by treasure.
......Even thus.
"Veron: patient you are."
Gravel-growl: Veron laughed.
"......Aye—but nay. Patients heal; I unhealable: ghost, not patient."
Eyes shuttered. Heart-nook memory conjured. Nay: heart wholly that memory.
"Dead long since."
His reminiscence unseen.
"Trash hoof-trampled-fated: that salvation-day recalled. Her smile. All thereof. Hand-grasped rise: died, reborn."
Cliff-gusts stirred. Eyes slow-unsealed; smile.
Time-stuck still.
"Life hers entire."
Hollow laugh escaped.
"......Julie consulted?"
"Refusal certain."
"Solo why?"
"Ghost I am."
Blizzard assailed. Dagger-crumble trailed. Sustain soon spent.
"Known: emotions burden her. Conviction burdens."
Dagger-grip tensed.
"Yet you die must. Inevitable: liege ruin."
Certainty chanted.
Eyes met; nod.
"......Apt."
Wholly apt.
Deculein's warped love: Julie's creed shattered. Her hand Deculein-slay compelled.
"Also errant."
Not-Deculein: thus false.
Deculein-future mine to reshape. Faith unshaken: self-capable.
Whence.
"......Believe."
Hand proffered.
"Julie unharmed by me."
Veron mute; stump extended. Grasp-beckoning.
"......"
Grasp withheld.
Heart-scorched: enigma-heat.
Conscience-ash: ember-flare.
"......Veron."
Teeth ground.
"Spared thus......"
His aura: denser, fiercer inferno-writhe.
"Kill me you will."
Perpetual blaze unmutating.
Unsolvable, unquelled: origin-hate.
Kill ineluctable.
"......Aye."
Frank.
"Handless regardless. Handless knight: liege-useless. Beside her: impossible."
Deculein-karma.
Yet Veron's folly too.
Wrath bridled; intoned.
"......Dull, witless cur."
Throat-steel grip-summoned. Continued clutch.
"Hearken."
Veron eyes sealed.
"For...... Julie love."
Kung—!
Train quaked.
Intent plotted slays. Dagger wrenched: cliff-plunge intent.
"Julie released."
Damnable: no knight.
Sole-serve idolater, brain-mad zealot.
Psychotic deranged.
"Yet choice today......"
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Grip-blood trailed. Droplets brow-touched, dispersed.
"Torments Julie eternal."
Mana void,
"You......"
My hand direct.
You slay.
"Humanity-abandoned mongrel."
Wrist-arm hurled dagger. Bolt-true: throat transfixed.
Kwa-jik—!
......
Silence reigned.
Wind hushed.
World-sound voided. Veron quiet: dagger-hand loosed.
Thus......
Pupil-light fled,
Abyss-plunged; at last.
Intent extinguished.
Extinction: death.