Senia, and Jang Seon-hui (6)
The truth behind the Lemterte Plague that had engulfed the Principality was nothing short of horrific.
The moment it became known that the blue spots—previously dismissed as mere blemishes—were actually evidence of mana being devoured from within by parasitic Devourers, the entire nation was thrown into utter turmoil. The very crisis Professor Muniher and the faculty had feared had arrived in full force.
Of course, Professor Dahlia's research findings had been publicized alongside the announcement, urging the populace not to give in to despair. She had emphasized that a neutralizing agent could stall the Devourers from consuming mana, buying them precious time and making it clear that it was far too early to surrender hope.
Even so, human beings were frail creatures by nature. Faced with the abrupt revelation of their own mortality, knowing they were suddenly living on borrowed time, not a soul could remain optimistic.
Swish—
Drawing back the curtains to look out the window, Dahlia exhaled a long, heavy sigh.
"I had no choice, given how many extremists were demanding we exterminate the Sirens immediately, but still..."
She had released the announcement precisely to stop people from taking up arms and marching off to slaughter the Sirens on the spot. As intended, the public's blind fury toward the demi-humans had subsided to a degree. Yet while they had bought a brief respite, the looming panic could never truly be quelled until an actual cure was unveiled.
This swell of terror would inevitably spawn a new catastrophe. Terrified people always looked for a scapegoat, desperately searching for someone else to blame for their misery. For now, their hostility had merely splintered, diverted from the Sirens toward other targets.
"In the end, they just need an outlet for their rage."
And whom would they target? It began with anyone who made the slightest misstep, before inevitably turning upon those who had uncovered the truth—and those who had kept it secret. Team Tembris was far too formidable to be pushed around by ordinary rabble, which meant the brunt of this blame would fall upon the one person who had handled the crisis with flawless resolve, alongside the Sirens who were still believed to be the original source of the infection.
"Junon... where on earth are you?"
Glancing at the silent, empty display of her Belshuar Ark, Dahlia murmured the name of the student who weighed heaviest on her heart.
Though Junon had rested, his body remained battered and frayed. Pushing himself further after clashing with Shanberesh was reckless by any measure. But what choice did he have? The burden he carried was no longer just a matter of a single life—it encompassed the fate of everyone involved. Resolving that pushing himself a little harder today was a cheap price to pay for the future, Junon slipped into the academy grounds.
"Hm? Did you hear rustling just now?"
"What are you talking about? Who'd be sneaking around here? Everyone's bedridden from the Devourers. Who in their right mind would visit Revrant right now?"
"Tsk, guess I was hearing things..."
"Yeah, bound to happen. You spent way too long rotting away in the Octagon, man."
"Hey, shut up! That's got nothing to do with this!"
The perimeter guard was laughable, consisting only of a handful of students. Because all available fighting strength had been mobilized for the subjugation campaign, only ordinary students remained to keep watch over the campus. Thanks to that, Junon easily scaled the outer wall without crossing anyone's path.
Although the campus was noisy, no one suspected an intruder, allowing Junon to melt into the shadows of a secluded corner. Clusters of students were gathered all over the grounds, murmuring among themselves, preventing him from moving openly. Their hushed voices crackled with the volatile anger of people drowning in betrayal and indignation.
"..."
"—It's all that bastard Junon's fault! Time was of the essence, and he told us not to use magic? Does that make any damn sense?!"
"—If we'd linked up with the main force sooner, would any of this have happened?!"
Listening nearby, other students nodded in resentful agreement, muttering that it certainly seemed that way.
So that's how they're spinning it. Resigned, Junon turned back toward the wall. Aside from Lebrant Academy, there was nowhere else he could stay, but lingering here right now would only complicate matters further. He had anticipated this reaction anyway. Having endured far worse in his past life, there was no reason to take it personally.
His aimless steps carried him toward the western district of the academy, an area students were unlikely to frequent at this hour. The surrounding commercial street had evidently been hit hard as well, with only a scattering of shops remaining open.
"Whoa, hey there, student!"
"...Me?"
"Yes, you! Good grief, tsk tsk."
A shopkeeper bustled out of a storefront, looking at Junon in horror before clicking his tongue in dismay.
"Look at you! You're dripping pus and fluids from those wounds! Why on earth are you walking around? You look like an academy student—shouldn't you be getting treated right this second?"
Hearing that his wounds were oozing, Junon finally looked down at himself. Not that noticing changed anything. Right now, he needed decisive evidence to clear the Sirens of false charges; he couldn't afford to waste time fretting over a few cuts and scrapes.
"I'm fine. Please leave me be."
"What? Ha, listen to this kid!"
The shopkeeper stared in disbelief. Scratching his bushy, soft-looking beard, the man firmly caught Junon by the arm.
"Uh, excuse me, mister?"
"Now hold on, that's no way to treat your body. I don't know what kind of trouble you're in, but get inside and let's get you patched up first. A young lad getting torn up this badly... Geez, I feel guilty just looking at you."
"Look...! I really am fine—"
"Enough arguing, just sit your butt down. Come on!"
Though the man seemed pushy, his intentions were entirely sincere. After all, the merchants and citizens of Revrant owed an immense debt to the academy students who had defended their city. Showing kindness to a wounded fighter was second nature to him. Offering a fleeting resting spot to an injured student was the least he could do.
"Now let's see... where did I put that thing...?" the shopkeeper muttered, rummaging through his back storage room.
A few minutes later, still scratching his scruffy beard, the middle-aged man returned holding a clear, rectangular crystal lens. He held it up, tilting it as if inspecting Junon's wounds from various angles.
"Excuse me... may I ask what that is?"
"Oh, this? It's a prototype magic artifact that came out recently. They say it freezes a person's time and preserves it inside, or something along those lines."
"Huh...?"
Junon let out a hollow laugh at the preposterous explanation. An artifact that froze and stored someone's time? He knew the man meant no harm, but anyone hearing that out of context would assume it was some sinister curse.
"Ah, don't get the wrong idea! It doesn't shave decades off your lifespan like in those spooky urban legends. The creator said it only captures about a second or two at most."
"...And what exactly is the point of that?"
"Haha, it's plenty useful! Take a look. Because it captures a slice of time as it is, it looks incredibly vivid, doesn't it?"
Junon remained indifferent up to that point.
"If you take an imprint with this and bring it to a physician, you can show them the exact state of a wound. With an image this lifelike, doctors can diagnose someone without dragging the patient through the streets."
"...!"
Those words hit Junon like a thunderbolt. It was no exaggeration to say he had just stumbled upon the single most critical asset he needed right now.
"Anyway, sit tight while I run down to the apothecary, all right, kid?"
Leaving his guest behind, the shopkeeper hurried out the door. Junon sat alone, his mind racing as he turned the revelation over and over.
"Right... with this... I don't need to bring them in person!"
Capturing time.
Stated like that, it sounded absurd—a notion fit to be laughed off. But was it really a joke? The ability to preserve the pristine, exact appearance of a wound was monumental. In terms of practical function, it was almost identical to modern photography: an artifact capable of generating incontrovertible, visual proof frozen in that exact moment.
"He's over here! An academy student who's hurt... Huh? Hey, I told you to stay off your feet—"
"Mister. Where did you get that?"
"Eh? What are you jumping up for all of a sudden?"
How could he possibly sit still? The ultimate trump card—one capable of resolving both the Lemterte Plague and the false accusations leveled against the Sirens—was sitting right before his eyes.
When the students had first returned to Revrant, they had basked in pride and jubilation, convinced they had accomplished something miraculous. But what greeted them was the horrific reality of the Lemterte Plague. Learning that they were slowly dying from the inside out threw the young, inexperienced students into a state of blind panic.
"Inside my body... beasts are breeding in my blood...?"
"The second our mana runs dry, the Devourers will burst out of us and kill the host...?"
"Where... where did everything go wrong...?"
Division always strikes when spirits are at their most vulnerable. It slithers through the cracks, quiet and insidious.
"Where did it go wrong? We were never allowed to fight at full strength from the start! And you all know damn well why, don't you?"
"Never allowed to fight at full strength... you mean..."
"It's all that bastard Junon's fault! Time was of the essence, and he forbade us from using magic! Does that make any sense?!"
"If we'd met up with the main force earlier, would this have ever happened?!"
The crowd fell into an uneasy silence. Looking back, it seemed plausible. Junon had insisted they conserve their strength, and believing his reasoning sounded solid, they had followed his lead. Amid their confusion, the instigator pressed his advantage, creeping further through the cracks with venomous subtlety.
"I saw him yesterday! That bastard didn't have a single blue spot on him! I saw him walking around totally unscathed with my own two eyes!"
"What? Then... he only held us back to save his own skin...?"
"Come to think of it, while we were fighting those giant rats, he threw some weird vials around, didn't he?! Was that what he was doing?!"
"That son of a bitch...!"
Lies piled upon half-truths. With a single push of agitation, the crowd's hysteria found a convenient lightning rod. The warm camaraderie forged in the crucible of battle, rising like steam in the winter cold, vanished into thin air. Yet, even amid the rising tide of hostility, voices rose in defense.
"Shut your damn mouths! Junon isn't the kind of guy to abandon his comrades!!"
"Did you all lose your minds and forget the Orthoptera attack?! He stood his ground at the entrance and held the line to the very end! That's the only reason Professor Dahlia arrived in time!"
"And besides, you're the coward who deserted while we were defeating the Devourers one by one! You expect anyone to believe a word out of your mouth?!"
It was John and Noel.
Both youths, who would have died long ago were it not for Junon, stood tall against the slander. A few students who had lived through the Orthoptera assault murmured in agreement, and a handful of others who had witnessed Junon stand up to Kayden after awakening their Magic Armament stepped forward to defend him. Yet their voices lacked hard proof to counter the fear.
"Then tell us, John! Noel! Do you even know what was in those vials Junon threw around?!"
"That's..."
"What if he was running some sick scheme just to save himself?!"
"Junon's always pulled underhanded tricks like that! He's far too clever for his own good, and fooling people is second nature to him! We all know how he made fools of the nobles!"
"He was probably scheming behind our backs the whole time. Suppressing our magic while keeping himself clean and safe... it all fits together, doesn't it?!"
Though John and Noel believed they had grown closer to Junon, the truth was they didn't know the specifics. They didn't know what kind of chemical reactions his vials had triggered, nor the precise logistics behind his orders. They had simply trusted him blindly and followed.
"Even so...! Even so, he's not someone who'd sacrifice our lives just to save his own! You can't judge him without hearing him out!"
"It's the exact opposite! If he knew what was happening, why didn't he tell us?! He deceived us all just to survive!!"
Reason had abandoned the crowd; their minds were made up. Those defending Junon were vastly outnumbered, and no matter how much they pleaded for calm logic and perspective, their words fell on deaf ears.
"Hey, Noel... how do we deal with this?"
"Don't ask me. I'm not Junon."
"...Should we draw our weapons first?"
"Guess we have to... Look at them. If words won't work, they're gearing up to beat us down by force."
Driven by blind rage, the mob sought to crush anyone who disagreed, desperate to prove their terror was justified—even if doing so solved nothing.
"Beat the shit out of those traitor-sympathizers first!!!"
Just as John and Noel braced themselves for a desperate brawl—
Smack!
A figure materialized like a ghost, delivering a sharp rap to the wrist of the student who had drawn his blade first. The weapon clattered uselessly to the cobblestones.
Cradling his stinging wrist, the student whirled around, snarling. "What the hell?! Which crazy bastard—"
"Oho? A 'crazy bastard,' is it? It's been quite some time since anyone's insulted me so boldly. Go on, don't stop on my account."
"Uh... n-no, that is..."
"I told you to continue. Why so quiet? You had plenty to say just a moment ago, didn't you?"
Standing before them with an unimpressed snort was none other than Professor Muniher. His gaze turned frigid, radiating the heavy, suffocating aura of an elite imperial archmage.
"Instead of pooling your strength to overcome the Lemterte Plague, you bicker among yourselves and turn your blades on your own comrades. Even a stray mongrel would shake its head at such disgraceful foolishness."
Under Professor Muniher's chilling reprimand, the agitated mob quickly lost its nerve and dispersed. Once the students had scurried back to their quarters, leaving the courtyard empty, a figure stepped forward from where she had been watching from the shadows.
"...Thank you, Professor."
"No need for thanks. It was your quick thinking that prevented a bloodbath, Senia."
It was barely perceptible to an untrained eye, but Muniher had seen it: the slight tremor running through Senia's hand, and the subtle, lethal gap where her blade had almost cleared its scabbard.
"I will permit it, up to a point."
"...Pardon?"
"Just ensure you don't take it too far. If you stain your blade with their blood, it will put many people in a difficult position. Including that boy."