Lokralen. (3)
Kyaaaaah──!Kyaaaaah──!Kyaaaaah──!
"······."
No matter how much time passed, the screams never ceased.
A woman who hadn't taken a single step.
The lecture had long since halted, and the watching mages began to feel a creeping terror.
"······Hey, why's that bitch doing that?"
Rozerio rubbed her arms, goosebumps rising.
"She has been taxidermied."
I confirmed her face peeking from beneath her robe's hood.
A face twisted in agony, eyes wide in shock, screams bursting forth.
The melody of her wail, the movement of her pupils, the folds of her facial wrinkles—
All repeating in fixed intervals.
Her nameplate read 963.
A person from one year before the abolition of Lokralen.
Kyaaaaah──!Kyaaaaah──!Kyaaaaah──!
"Rozerio. Can you block out this noise?"
"Ah, sure. Of course I can."
Rozerio wrapped Silence around it like a barrier. The sound stopped, but the horrific expression and her pose, frozen like a statue, remained unchanged.
"To keep it up long-term, I'll need mana stones. Anyone got any?"
Kreto handed her a crystal orb from his inner pocket.
"Will this do?"
"Ah, yes."
Rozerio fixed the medium of Silence to the crystal orb and infused a bit more spare mana.
"That should hold it. So, Deculein. You said not to touch it? Why can't we touch it?"
"There is a high chance you would suffer the same fate."
"······."
At my words, everyone's faces filled with shock.
Lokralen cleared his throat and shouted to the mages in the hall.
"Everyone, I'm sorry! Due to this unfortunate incident, we'll suspend the conference for now! Please return to your hotels! To your hotels—"
"No."
I cut him off. I drew the wooden steel sword from my breast pocket and sent it down to the first-floor exit. At the same time, I issued the command: No one is to leave.
"Pardon? You can't do that."
Wrinkles furrowed on Lokralen's brow. I walked calmly to stand before them.
"No one here may leave this conference building."
"Professor Deculein. Even if it's you, I am the conference chairman. So—"
"There is a host inside."
"A host?"
I surveyed the gathered attendees.
"All of you, remove your robes and show your bare faces."
The reaction was fierce.
Those like Rellin hurriedly pulled off their robe hoods, but the heads of prestigious families or elderly senior mages bristled at the mere implication of suspicion.
"Professor Deculein. What nonsense is this—"
"Deculein, my boy! Don't you recognize me? It's Gaelon! Gaelon!"
"Even if there's a host among us, it isn't me!"
"It matters not."
Each word consumed mana in clumps, but I finished what I had to say.
"If you do not wish to be swarmed and taxidermied as the host, obey me."
At that moment.
─Uwaaaak!
A similar wail echoed from the first floor. I headed down.
"······Oh my."
I didn't even need to reach the first floor fully. Rozerio flinched in surprise.
On the stairs between the first and second floors, a person was endlessly climbing them.
One step up from the lower tread—uwaaaak──!
Then one step up again from the lower tread—uwaaaak──!
"This one's······ pretty serious, huh?"
Uwaaaak──!Uwaaaak──!
The nameplate was also 963, identical to the previous victim.
Rozerio asked.
"Eugh, gives me chills. Deculein. How does someone end up like that?"
"I do not know. For now."
I looked at the people descending belatedly. Lokralen, Allen, Ifrin, Kreto, Delpen, Rellin, Vizetan, Gaelon, and so on······.
"Rozerio. Seal the entrance. No one leaves."
"No, Professor! If we do that, we'll all end up taxidermied—"
"Oh my."
Lokralen's protest was lightly quelled by Rozerio. Reaching the first floor, Rozerio sealed all the doors leading to the exit with Transmutation.
······12 hours into the Lokralen lockdown.
Ifrin arrived at the restaurant in the corner of the conference hall's first floor. Fortunately, there were enough ingredients to stave off starvation.
"Assistant Professor Allen. You're hungry, right?"
"Nooo~ I'm fine."
Ifrin asked Allen, who followed behind. Allen shook her head, but Ifrin's stomach kept rumbling—gurgle.
"Come on, liar. Let's cook together."
"You know how?"
"Of course!"
Ifrin began cooking with magic.
Shick-shick-shick-shick──
Ingredients floated into the air, slicing themselves, grilling over magical flames, and so on······.
"Just handle the plates!"
Allen, who had been oohing and aahing, presented the plates at Ifrin's words.
In just 30 minutes, they finished cooking and arrived at the 'Round Table Conference Room' on the third floor, where professors like Deculein and Rozerio were debating.
"I brought food."
"You brat! Can't you see we're having a serious discussion?!"
Rellin suddenly glared and shook his fist. Rozerio smacked his hand away.
"The kid was hungry, so thanks is all that's needed."
"Ah, is that so?"
"Thanks, kiddo. Set it down."
"Yes."
Allen served the food to each professor, while Ifrin subtly stood behind the round table, eavesdropping on their discussion.
"······Hmm. So, only future folk are getting hit so far?"
Rozerio asked while eating.
"Its most powerful period is ten years from now, so those from around then are targeted first."
Deculein answered while reading a book. Rozerio glanced at the cover.
"What's in the book? ······Wait. Isn't that from 963? How are you reading it so easily?"
"It is readable to me."
His absolute mana quantity ranked low even in Lokralen, but Deculein's unique mental fortitude drastically reduced the percentage of mana consumed.
"By the way, Professor. Who was in the underground archive?"
Rellin suddenly asked. Ifrin flinched.
Deculein glanced at Rozerio without answering.
"Rozerio. How many floors underground?"
"Dunno. Heard it's pretty deep."
"Hmm······ Why build the archive underground, of all places."
Deculein muttered while reading. Upon closer look, it was Survey of Lokralen Structures in 963.
Rozerio shrugged.
"How should I know."
"······Rozerio."
Suddenly, Deculein looked up and glared at Rozerio. She replied nonchalantly.
"Yeah?"
"How old are you."
"······Why bring that up now?"
"You keep using informal speech, so I must address it."
"My rank's higher?"
Rozerio crossed her arms and smirked. Deculein slammed the book shut—thak! Rozerio flinched.
He glared coldly and intoned.
"······Rozerio."
"Yeah."
"Rozerio."
"······Yeah."
"One last time."
"······."
Deculein's piercing gaze bored into Rozerio, suffusing the entire space with oppressive weight.
"······Fine, got it. Semi-formal then. Happy?"
Rozerio's rank was higher, but Deculein's age and status outweighed that.
Semi-formal was acceptable.
Deculein nodded—
Bam──!
—just as the conference room door burst open.
"Professor Deculein! Mage Rozerio! Huddled here alone, eating and whispering!"
It was a mage named 'Delpen' from a family. Nameplate: 960. Two years in the future, he raged while expending mana.
"Forty more have been taxidermied already! Future and past combined, how many are trapped here?!"
"······."
"With the monster and host here, what good is sealing the doors! You want us frozen in place to get stuffed?! We're leaving! Spread the word!"
Delpen spat his words and turned. Many followed.
Deculein, still seated, spoke.
"······Delpen of 960."
Delpen halted.
"I am Deculein of 958."
The weight and meaning in that voice crushed the shoulders of Delpen and all the rest.
He continued glaring at them.
"Professor at the Imperial University, head of the Yukline family, and the Emperor's personal guard."
Professor at the university. Head of Yukline. Emperor's guard. With each title, Deculein's name grew heavier.
"Delpen of 960."
"······."
Delpen swallowed hard and turned back to Deculein.
"What is your opinion."
He remained seated, legs crossed. No rising, no further anger. He merely inquired as if asking after one's health.
"Shall I ensure you cease to exist in your year."
That warning was for everyone, not just Delpen.
"You would likely end up in Rohalak."
Those beside Delpen trembled at the threat from another league, and soon enough.
"S-Sorry. I panicked and lost it for a moment. Professor Deculein, forgive me!"
They bowed, signaling surrender.
······Meanwhile, conference chairman Lokralen descended to the [Underground Archive Storage].
"Damn it all. What the hell is going on. How, why this, it can't be. I couldn't not know about something like this······."
He muttered incoherently as he ran through the [Underground Archive Storage]. He already knew skirting the perimeter was safe, and thus reached a corner of the storage.
"Huff, huff······."
Glancing around, he placed his hand on the wall. A hidden door slid open, recognizing his fingerprint.
"Eugh. Eugh."
Once inside, he steadied his ragged breathing.
The secret room was a study about nine pyeong in size.
"Whew······."
He wiped his sweat, walked to the chair, and sat. Then he looked at his diary—that is, the records.
Lokralen. This place is where I will remain forever. Therefore······
This was where Lokralen—the conference chairman of Lokralen—continued his diary.
However, since Lokralen itself was a tangle of timelines, the diary included entries from 'future Lokralens' as well.
Thus, he couldn't possibly be unaware of such a special incident!
"I must have written about taxidermy, taxidermy. And Deculein too······."
Lokralen frantically flipped through the diary. Flip-flip! A finger sliced on paper, and cold sweat dripped—plip-plip!
In his desperate search, he found a new entry that hadn't been there before.
The culprit behind the taxidermy Deculein mentioned has been revealed. That damned witch's doing. It is······.
September 5th.
A scrawled message from his future self to the present.
Lokralen paled upon grasping its content.
"No way. How······."
I must tell Deculein right away!
Pocketing the diary, he rushed back to the surface. Sweat poured as he climbed the stairs to the lobby.
"Professor Deculein! Professor Deculein!"
The first floor, sealed by Rozerio's magic, held only the info desk staff.
Who was dozing off.
This madman sleeps now?!
Lokralen rushed to him.
"Hey! Time to sleep?!"
"Ah! No, sir!"
The man jolted awake and looked at Lokralen.
"Where's Professor Deculein!"
"Ah~ He's probably in the Round Table Conference Room on the third floor······ three hours ago."
"Third floor?!"
Lokralen repeated. The staff replied.
"Ah! No."
"What? No?"
"Yes!"
"Then where—"
"Ah~ The professor's probably in the third-floor Round Table······ three hours ago."
"······What?"
A chill raced up Lokralen's spine.
The staff continued.
"Ah! No, sir! Ah~ The professor's probably in the third-floor Round Table······."
"······."
Lokralen swallowed and backed away slowly.
At the same time, instinct told him.
The one right before his eyes had become that way.
Then······ this host.
"······three hours ago."
Was nearby.
Legs weakening, Lokralen staggered and scanned around.
"Ah! No, sir! Ah~ The professor's probably in the third-floor Round Table······."
The desk staff repeated the same line.
"Damn it!"
"······three hours ago."
Lokralen whirled and fled. He threw open the passage door and climbed the stairs.
─Ah! No, sir! Ah~ The professor's probably in the third-floor Round Table······.
Ignoring the repeating voice, he climbed.
From first to second floor, second to third······
"Huff, Pro······fessor Dec······!"
Opening the third-floor door—
That instant.
A scene flashed in Lokralen's mind.
I must tell Deculein right away!
His diary entry suddenly resurfaced.
The last line he had read without suspicion.
But······ the handwriting.
That line wasn't his.
"Ah······."
Gazing at the figure blocking the third-floor door, Lokralen thought that.
It was akin to a life flashing before his eyes.
"Hello. Lokralen."
To her, who had seen through him completely, Lokralen replied with a suffocating feeling······.
"You. How did you know?"
······And.
What remained was repetition.
"Huff, Pro······fessor Dec······."
He returned to the past and opened the third-floor door again.
Facing her once more, he muttered with the most shocked expression.
"You. How did you know?"
As his final words ended, again.
Back to the past, opening the third-floor door.
"Huff, Pro······fessor Dec······."
The figure he had witnessed was long gone from her seat, but his expression, memory, and time remained vivid.
"You. How did you know?"
Lokralen had been taxidermied.