Gale (1)

She walked through the heart of the terror. Held in Rohakan's massive hand, Ifrin blankly watched the relentless bombardment, the crumbling buildings, and the horrors of exploding bombs.

"Why..."

"Can't ask for reasons from madmen doing mad things."

Crack-crack-crack—!

Rohakan unleashed his magic at the collapsing ice statue. He seemed to be using Telekinesis to halt the collapse, but it wasn't as precise as Deculein's.

"Oops. Can't do it as neatly as that guy."

Chuckling, Rohakan soon purified the area with his own spell.

Snap—!

As he flicked his fingers, the falling debris from the buildings disintegrated into dust. The smoke cleared, and the flames rose into the sky.

"What was that just now?"

"I call it Elementalization. It melts processed materials back into their most primal elements. Probably not in any textbook."

"Whoa."

Ifrin blinked in awe, closing and opening her eyes.

In that instant, they had already left the city streets behind.

"...Where's this? Teleportation?"

It was some hill. The festival square, now twisted into terror, was far away, and a peaceful cabin stood right before them.

Rohakan smiled faintly and took a deep breath.

"It's been ages since I've shown my magic to a young talent like you."

Gathering his mana as he spoke, he held the World Tree fragment he'd shown before.

Thud—!

Rohakan struck the ground with the World Tree branch. The shockwave of magic spread toward the hot springs district.

The grand spell to cleanse the sticky demonic energy from the square: Flow of Purification.

"That should do it. They'll handle the rest."

"Y-Yeah. Well, I'll be going then—"

"Using a grand spell's got me hungry. Ifrin, want some meat? Caught one last night."

"...Meat?"

Ifrin asked suspiciously.

Rip—!

Ifrin tore into the meat.

Every bite was delicious. It wasn't aged like loahawk, lacking that refined flavor, but it had a rough freshness.

"It's good. Even suits my picky taste..."

"You eat anything fine."

Even as he replied, Rohakan was busy, bustling around the cramped cabin.

"I don't eat just anything. Nope."

"Where's your friend, though? There were two of you."

"...Ah. She's not feeling well, resting."

Ifrin gave a wry smile. Sylvia had collapsed from exhaustion mid-exam due to sudden overwork. Rumor was she'd barely slept or eaten through finals.

"But you've been living here all this time? How'd you avoid getting caught?"

"Hm~ This isn't an ordinary cabin. How else could I evade them for decades? It's like a ship."

"A ship?"

"Yeah. You lot call it the 9th Series, or Signature Magic. A mage's personal trait, personality, and talent intertwined into their ultimate spell."

Signature magic. The dream career goal of every mage on the continent.

Ifrin just blinked.

Ah, her mouth moved too. She chewed the meat steadily.

"Here. Take a look."

Rohakan closed the cabin door. Then he pulled a lever by the fireplace, like it was decor.

Thud—!

One vibration. Ifrin flinched mid-bite, and Rohakan chuckled as he opened the door again.

"...Huh?"

Ifrin gaped blankly at the view beyond the threshold. Her wide eyes fixed on the scene outside the cabin.

It was a desert.

A barren expanse with nothing but sand-laced hot winds blowing in. In the ten seconds she stared, her lips dried out.

Rohakan muttered innocently.

"What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?"

"Th-This..."

Ifrin grabbed his collar clumsily.

"T-Take me back!"

"Hahaha."

"Don't laugh! Hurry up, you kidnapper!"

Shake-shake— shake-shake—

She shook the big criminal's body awkwardly.

"Take me back!"

"Hahahaha."

"Take me back, I said!"

"Of course I'll send you back. Can't have Deculein chewing me out."

"...What? Why would Deculein scold you?"

"Hm? Aren't you two his disciples?"

Ifrin furrowed her brow.

"What nonsense is that? Anyway, where are we exactly?"

"Kahal Desert, eastern continent. In this ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠absurd climate, Altiegue villages dot the land."

"Altiegue? The ones behind today's terror?"

Rohakan gave a wry smile, ignoring her question and continuing.

"From now on, Altiegue will be exterminated. Oppression of minorities will intensify. A gale fiercer than this desert wind is coming... Ifrin. What do you think?"

"Why ask me? I'm a mage, not a politician."

"I'm getting on, need someone to carry on my will."

"Your will?"

Rohakan's sidelong glance at Ifrin was somehow sorrowful.

"Aye. At a certain mage level, you glimpse your own lifespan. Mine's short."

"...Then just tell Professor Deculein."

"Think that bastard'll listen?"

Ifrin nodded, recalling Deculein's ego.

Arrogant, haughty, noble, lofty—that dictatorial dignity.

"Yeah. He won't listen to anyone. Even if God said so, he'd refuse if he didn't want to. No, he wouldn't."

"Kekekeke. Spot on."

Rohakan laughed, closing the door. He fetched a magic pouch from the corner ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with Telekinesis.

"This pouch has 'elixirs' helpful for young talents, my 'magic training manual,' and such."

"...But?"

Ifrin's eyes lit up with expectation.

"I'll give it to you and your friend."

"...Huh? Why? Suspicious."

Token suspicion. Her eyes were glued to the pouch.

Rohakan chuckled softly.

"At a certain mage level, you can read others. Simple folk like you, anyway. Not complex, closed-off ones like Deculein."

"Huh? Sylvia's not simple."

"Nah. She's even simpler than you. Anyway. Want it?"

Ifrin pondered at Rohakan's words.

Black Beast.

The worst criminal on land...

Seemed too kind an old man.

"Half yours, half your friend's. Labeled them?"

"..."

After fierce deliberation, Ifrin glanced sideways, then snatched the pouch.

"Fine."

"Good. Now Deculein's on you two. I'll ask a favor later."

"Huh? Favor aside, why us for Deculein?"

"Hm~ You don't know yet, but I can peek at the future. Up to two weeks, once a month."

Ifrin gawked at the smiling Rohakan.

"Bull! Liar! How?!"

"Nothing to be shocked about. Proof of my short life. Mages grasp truth closer to the heavens."

Creeeak—

Rohakan closed the door, hiding the desert.

"I've got 2-3 years left, but this world needs pillar mages. Like it or not, Deculein that bastard will be a big one."

"Whoa."

"Yeah. Whoa. Could be a pillar... or the seed of ruin."

"Both huge problems for me. What future did you see? Can't check again in detail?"

"Hahaha. Wish I could, but can't control it."

Finishing, Rohakan opened the door again.

The familiar capital avenue.

But time felt off. The sky had darkened. Night had fallen, and the terror seemed quelled in silence.

Ifrin stared blankly up at Rohakan.

"...You really seem like a mage, old man."

"Hear that a lot. Like you see me, I once saw Demakan."

Archmage Demakan. If Rohakan was this much, how mystical was he?

Ifrin gazed at the moon, then at where Rohakan had stood.

He and the cabin were gone.

"Ifrin."

A chilling voice drifted in. Ifrin startled.

Too familiar, too terrifying.

"P-Prof, Professor...?"

Deculein.

He glared with piercing eyes.

Her heart sank at his next words.

"You met Rohakan."

"N-No."

"What did he say?"

Ifrin tensed. Her mouth went dry. Shadowy pressure crushed her everywhere.

"Ifrin."

He called her name twice.

"Speak."

"...It's a secret!"

Defying his intimidation, she shouted, squeezing her eyes shut.

"..."

No scolding came. Instead, the pouch in her hand slipped into Deculein's.

"...Ah, hey! G-Give it back! Please!"

Deculein peered inside. Ifrin fidgeted like a dog robbed of snacks, but he was calm.

Gulp—

He's confiscating it. All gone. As her heart pounded...

"Take it."

"...Huh?"

Deculein returned the pouch. The air around him was still ominous and oppressive, but no scolding or seizure.

"Disappearing without a word."

"...Huh?"

"I was looking for you."

No, more like... worried, though his face and voice remained cold.

Too unfamiliar. Bewildered, Ifrin spotted a potion in his hand, labeled [Deculein].

Old man Rohakan had deliberately delivered her near Deculein.

"Go to the police station. Your friends are waiting."

Leaving those words...

Step— step—

Ifrin blankly watched his lanky retreating back.

* * *

Sylvia slept long. Like a bear in hibernation, she'd burrowed in her room. Only Sylvia, the swift stone, and the bear-panda remained.

...But.

Tap—! Tap—!

Lately, weird noises from the window.

Time: 4:30 a.m.

Tap—! Tap—!

She tried ignoring, but it grated.

Some fearless idiot.

Tap—! Tap—!

Unable to bear it, Sylvia drew the curtain.

A dumb face below the mansion. Ifrin, mid-throw, beamed brightly.

"Stupid Ifrin."

Sylvia closed the curtain. Pebble barrage resumed.

Tap—! Tap—!

"..."

Three more times, that's it.

Keep it up, and I'll smack you.

Sylvia narrowed her eyes fiercely, but as if knowing, the pebbles stopped.

No.

Knock-knock—

Pebbles turned to knocks.

Sighing, Sylvia watched the door burst open. As expected, Ifrin.

"Who said come in? Who let you? Who opened the door?"

"Sorry. The maid Lete..."

"Out. Out. Out out."

"Wait. Just look at this. It'll change your mind."

Ifrin pulled a book from a pouch. Looked valuable. Sylvia's eyes sparkled briefly.

"Met that old man Rohakan. Gift for us."

"..."

"See? Your name tag. [Sylvia]."

Document hoarder Sylvia couldn't refuse, and Ifrin sat beside her.

"Sylvia. What now?"

Casual career question.

Sylvia glared sleepily but answered lowly.

"...Gonna climb the Floating Island."

"Floating Island?"

"Become a high mage there. Greater than that Professor Deculein..."

Sylvia still didn't grasp her feelings. That day's scene was a massive shock, her heart a tangled mess.

"Become...?"

"Dunno after."

Ifrin nodded. 'Professor' to 'that professor,' but she wasn't dumb enough to pry.

"Huh? This a radio? Cool. First time seeing one."

Ifrin spotted the bedside drawer radio. Sylvia glanced, turned it on.

"Whoa. Real voices come out."

Hearing the news, Ifrin recalled Rohakan's words.

Where and how would the old man's 'gale' come?

Click.

Radio off. Sylvia did it. Ifrin started to ask why, but shut up seeing Sylvia's near-tears face.

Sylvia said.

"Listen alone outside."

"...Okay."

Ifrin took the radio to the living room.

Dark mansion.

Plopped on the sofa table, fiddled futilely.

"How'd Sylvia do it?"

No sound despite tries. Ifrin stared blankly, then said.

"Speak."

No response.

"...Why won't you talk?"

Waiting, she frowned.

"Rebelling...?"

Arms crossed, sternly again.

"Speak."

"Like I said, speak."

"Speak now!"

"...You rebelling?"

"Aha~ Recognizing the owner? But Sylvia said I could listen. Permission granted. Open up."

"Speak."

"I said speak."

"Speak, I said?!"

The unfamiliar radio rebelled hard; Ifrin bickered till maid Lete arrived.

* * *

"What do you think? Over half the terror ringleaders were Altiegue. Massive uproar now."

Emperor Sophien asked smiling.

Not much to say. Al Ross had hinted at this sudden event; the Altar's Gale used Altiegue.

"How confirmed as Altiegue?"

"Betan. That family developed a method."

"May I ask what?"

"Ripped out hearts, got results. Altiegue hearts differ from humans'. No wonder called demon kin."

"..."

Brutally crude. Speechless briefly, but no alternatives.

"Yukline. I can't resist this public opinion."

Altiegue ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠suppression was a tidal wave. Mid-game main quest premise was just that.

"Petitions pour from everywhere. I'll heed my subjects and people."

Hoped to delay, but this era would suppress Altiegue.

"First, seize lands and confiscate assets from visible ones."

Altiegue divide into two: continent-integrated and isolated.

Former indistinguishable outwardly, but by religion, diet.

Latter speak with accents, have exclusive villages in borderlands.

"Rage against Altiegue is razor-sharp. Mages aside, merchants eye profits. Rich Altiegue abound, they say."

Trigger pulled. 'Imperial Terror' bullet fired, casualties in tens of thousands.

I eyed the gleeful Sophien.

"One clan terrorized, harming their own."

Odd on close look.

Terror for clan good, yet blind to clan-wide harm?

Obviously strange, but irrelevant.

Terror mere pretext.

Like handing a death row inmate to a bloodthirsty maniac; gave the empire its excuse for suppression.

Hence the gale.

Opposing alone means getting swept away.

Now Yukline, Ilayde, Beorad, Betan—no exceptions.

Main quest ramps up.

Altiegue suppression becomes 'right,' defense 'wrong.'

"Take this."

Sophien handed an ID to me deep in thought. I eyed the small card.

"'Reshtel.' Means 'tiger' in runes."

"My personal guard unit. You claimed to be my teacher, so assigned 'R' rank to match."

"I see."

"I expect you to show Yukline prestige... Well, still defending Altiegue?"

I met Sophien's eyes.

Her intent unclear, but stubborn defense amid this wave meant isolation.

Not just me—whole territory bled dry.

"We'll build camps."

"Camps."

"Yes. Less provocative than extermination, gains public support."

"Where?"

"Yukline territory is vast. Notably, 'Rohalak' region."

"Rohalak? Near the demon-infested Mieolji?"

Sophien's eyes widened.

Rohalak rumored high-risk with demon outbreaks dozens daily. Somewhat true.

"Deculein. Didn't you like Altiegue? Camps make sense, but Rohalak? Sending them to slaughter?"

"Don't like them. Just no reason to hate."

"Hm. This terror gives reason...?"

Stroking her chin, Sophien shrugged.

"Building a hated facility in your territory okay?"

"I trust Your Majesty for fitting compensation."

"Oh ho?"

A tail sprouted from smirking Sophien's back. Blinked—cat. That red-furred munchkin.

"Good. Compensation per Altiegue housed. Central funds camp construction."

"Also need an example."

"Example?"

"Yes."

Recalled memories.

Among Altiegue, villain characters exist.

Bad not for Altiegue, but villains. Named ones.

Spare them, future harm to main quest and clan.

"Execute dozens captured. Tower's on break, free to hunt personally."

Silence from emperor.

Reading Altiegue-condemning petitions, I lifted my head at prolonged silence.

Emperor stared in disbelief.

"Deculein... the price of betraying your beliefs is ruthless?"

Uncharacteristically shocked tone.

"Is it?"

No lies.

Execute Altiegue 'criminals,' build camps at Rohalak. Rohalak wouldn't stay as dangerous.

'Camps' reception unknown here.

Inside, fully my discretion.

"Yes. Only you defended Altiegue. Sudden change? Hahaha."

Sophien seemed pleased.

Fitting—setting-wise, she held no fondness for Altiegue.

"Can't slack. Must study hard. Can't betray your beliefs!"

"You'll slack in five minutes."

Hmph— Sophien twisted her lips.

"Slack on me? Insolent. Fine. Let's see. Today, at least one page—"

"—So annoying. Out."

Words overlapped.

Probably three minutes. Emperor spat runes, threw my textbook in disgust.

Runes demand mana and mental fortitude, sure...

"Your Majesty. Five minutes—"

"Ebebeb— Ebe— Ptui—! Mouth numb from this damned runes. Out!"

"..."

"Sleepy. I'm sleeping."

Sophien flopped down, back turned. I had to leave.