A Vow in the Ashes

Muzark stared at the countdown, then closed and opened his eyes. As if deeply linked to his brain, the message vanished and reappeared with just a simple blink or a conscious command.

'How should I interpret it this time?'

Roughly four hours.

The hint had proven immensely helpful back in the mine. Although cleaning up the aftermath had been a headache, it had allowed him to secure Yen's cooperation. It had done its job perfectly.

'But that doesn't mean it's a good sign.'

After all, why would the system give him a hint in the first place?

It meant an incident was imminent, so he had to stay alert. On the other hand, it also bred complacency, acting like a guarantee that he would be safe for at least the next four hours.

"No, that won't do."

He couldn't afford to be complacent.

He must not treat the system's messages as an absolute lifeline. He had already been burned once during the mage hunter incident. He had to keep in mind that the criteria for warning him of danger were completely arbitrary.

'Should I head to work early today?'

...

8:50 AM.

The Eastred Security Bureau was as bustling as ever today.

Amidst the mundane, everyday scenery, Muzark ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠remained tense.

'Three hours left.'

There were two possibilities to watch out for.

First, if a deployment order was issued. Given the recent unrest in the city, and because Yen's team held a particularly high priority within the bureau, the Chief would personally direct their missions.

'If a job comes up, that's undoubtedly where the trouble lies.'

Second, if no deployment order was issued.

This was a far more serious possibility than the first.

It would mean that whatever was going to happen would explode right here, inside the Security Bureau.

To be safe, he should report it to the Chief, but a report required substance. On what earthly grounds could he claim the Security Bureau was in danger and demand an evacuation?

'And evacuating might actually be more dangerous.'

What if the impending incident was a mass stabbing or a shootout?

Evacuating would only throw everyone into utter chaos.

In the end, jumping to conclusions was forbidden.

It was best to remain calmly vigilant, avoiding the trap of confirmation bias.

At the very least, he had more breathing room now than when a gun barrel was suddenly shoved in his face.

...Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

"What are you doing?"

As Muzark scanned the headquarters with sharp eyes, Yen approached. Still looking half-asleep, she let out a wide yawn and naturally stood before him.

The close proximity felt familiar now.

"Why are you so distracted? Did you not sleep well?"

"Is that coming from the person who just yawned?"

"Because you... *yawn*... are acting weird."

Anyone would act weird if these damn messages kept intruding on their reality. Honestly, he wouldn't even be surprised if the messages themselves were like chain letters, actively bringing misfortune with them.

He prided himself on being remarkably calm under the circumstances.

"Just... wondering how long they're going to stay quiet."

"Ah—you mean him."

Even though he had omitted the subject, Yen understood instantly. Lahar. The traitor who had vanished a few days ago had yet to make a move.

Just then.

"Good morning, you two!"

An officer they had exchanged passing greetings with called out. He was an energetic, naturally likable young man, currently carrying an opaque, sealed plastic bin.

"Hard at work, I see. What's in there?"

"Just various supplies. Scraped together from outside."

"Come to think of it, it's already Wednesday."

Yen muttered with a sigh. Wednesday was the day they organized ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠miscellaneous junk—like tools discarded by field agents after using them as makeshift weapons.

Although the budget allocated to the Eastred Security Bureau was the highest in Redline, their expenditures were equally massive. Recycling was their way of plugging at least one of the financial leaks.

"Give it here. Do you need it moved to the storage room?"

"No, no, it's fine. It's my job."

"Why are you trying to steal someone else's work?"

At Yen's scolding, Muzark withdrew his hand.

He rolled his eyes in mild embarrassment.

'Huh?'

He noticed the positions of the officers carrying the bins. They were scattered sparsely all over the place. And there were other bins, left half-carried, placed neatly in corners so as not to block the hallways.

As his gaze lingered on them with a strange sense of curiosity,

"Heave-ho."

A clattering sound echoed right in front of him.

It was the metallic clink of the officer adjusting his grip on the bin. Muzark could practically picture the tools inside bumping against one another. He shook his head, wondering what kind of paranoia had possessed him.

"Ah, wait a moment."

Muzark gave a polite nod and was about to pass by when the officer's voice stopped him.

"The Chief told me to pass along a message. She wants both of you to head up to her office as soon as you arrive."

"Ugh. What is she going to make us do now?"

Yen groaned, already annoyed.

"Got it. Thanks for letting us know."

"Don't mention it. Good luck today!"

"Yeah. You too."

The officer offered a bright smile and hurried on his way.

Seeing someone so full of energy first thing in the morning made Muzark feel a bit lighter. It was as if the dark clouds hanging over his mind had cleared, if only slightly.

"Let's stop by the supply room before we head up. I need to grab some new gear."

"I hope it lasts a bit longer this time."

"Develop an eye for weapons, then."

"A weapon is only as good as its make..."

Once he saved up enough money, it wouldn't be a bad idea to get a proper weapon. While his punches were devastating when he manifested Cryptofetica, it was a shame to throw away the advantage of reach.

For starters, something a bit more respectable than a pickaxe.

Muzark and Yen stepped into the supply room.

Once they were away from prying ears, it became much easier to talk.

"To continue what we were saying..."

Yen glanced back at the door she had just closed.

"Of course you can't help but worry, but don't let it consume you."

Several large plastic bins were stacked on the shelves of the supply room. Each of them deployed a Shield as they rummaged through a bin tagged 'Handle Sharp Objects with Care.'

"No matter how much of a gutter this place is, it won't be easy for outsiders to mess with us. Sure, we don't have a shred of magical defenses or high-tech security gear, but the same goes for them."

"So it's savages versus savages? How reassuring."

"But we have manpower, manpower."

Muzark chuckled at Yen's banter.

"I'm not too worried about external threats either. The problem is internal. Honestly, even that officer we just saw could be a mole. Or maybe he was blackmailed into helping them."

"You took the words right out of my mouth. That's a healthy mindset to have."

"Tsk. Maybe my mind is getting corrupted..."

As they bantered back and forth, half-seriously and half-joking, Muzark's gaze suddenly froze.

His eyes fell upon the bins shoved into the corner of the shelf. They were sealed bins that no one had opened yet today. On a sudden whim, Muzark cleared away the obstacles and pulled one out.

"You're really going to dig through that?"

"I feel a strange pull."

It was similar to the urge to reach for the milk carton with the furthest expiration date. Back when he was Baek Si-woo, his habit of frugality had led him to do all sorts of odd things while shopping...

Or, perhaps it wasn't that.

Perhaps it was because the countdown, still ticking away second by second, weighed heavily on his mind. Perhaps the 'arrangement' of the bins he had seen earlier still lingered in his subconscious. Perhaps tiny, imperceptible anomalies had piled up without him realizing it.

If those factors had driven him to do something he normally wouldn't...

Couldn't that be called 'survival instinct'?

*Click.*

He popped the lid open.

Yen, who had been watching him with a look that asked what kind of nonsense he was up to, suddenly widened her eyes.

"Wait."

Atop a piled-up heap of something lay a waterproof tarp, its smooth surface inscribed with a magic formula written in blood. Boasting vast magical knowledge from her time in Yellowline, the mage deciphered the formula in an instant.

It wasn't complex at all; in fact, it was incredibly simple.

So simple that the blood used as a catalyst felt like a waste.

"...Deodorization?"

A spell to erase odors.

A common spell used in daily life.

And one frequently employed in crimes.

*Rustle!*

The tarp moved on its own. No, something covered beneath it was moving. Muzark and Yen reflexively took a few steps back, flaring their Magic Circuits.

Soon, the tarp slid off.

"What the fuck is that?"

The 'thing' that reared its head was a demon.

A demon with its mouth sealed shut with duct tape.

Its blood-red eyes, burning with pure hatred, glared directly at the two mages.

*Gulp.*

Both of them swallowed hard in unison. But they quickly realized that the creature trapped in the bin posed absolutely no threat.

"It's practically a corpse. It has no limbs."

"...Doesn't this look familiar?"

At Yen's words, Muzark's mind naturally made the connection. The injured demons found at the site of the previous explosion. The clear signs of artificial tampering.

Demons, explosions, and special resources inside the Security Bureau.

Something no one in the Security Bureau would ever suspect.

An enemy from within.

A chime rang in his head.

The moment Muzark saw the message, he screamed.

"Yen! Run!"

He didn't just shout. He spun around, grabbed Yen's wrist, and bolted. Yen, also realizing what was about to happen, began sprinting out of the supply room.

*Slam!*

Before they could even reach for the handle, the door swung open.

"Why are you two in here...?"

Standing at the doorway was a different officer—a middle-aged woman with streaks of gray hair. She peered past their shoulders into the supply room and froze in horror.

The demon's head poking out of the open bin. The two mages who were supposed to be heading to the Chief's office. Even accounting for the failed diversion, the 'weapon' had been discovered far too early.

The formless 'eyes' that must have been watching the supply room.

The signal that things had gone awry, already transmitted through those eyes.

What all of this meant.

"N-No, no..."

The woman's face turned deathly pale.

As if she could foresee the immediate future rushing toward her.

It began with the bin the woman was holding.

—BOOM!

Like falling dominoes, the demons exploded in a chain reaction.

A violent oxidation process of light and heat. Amidst the licking tongues of flame, Yen threw her arms around Muzark. She deployed a powerful Shield, pouring in enough mana to threaten to burn out her already half-ruined Magic Circuits.

Yen's specialty magic was Overdraft.

It was a meager spell to call a signature, yet it was the very magic that had saved her life time and time again. By borrowing mana from her future self, she could stand against mages far above her rank.

But it was like walking a tightrope over an abyss.

The price of coveting power beyond one's reach ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was always severe.

If she forgot the line she must not cross, it would cause permanent, irreversible damage.

.

.

.

*Clatter...*

Pushing aside the debris, Muzark stumbled to his feet. His head spun. A splitting headache throbbed through his dazed mind. A high-pitched ringing, like a knife stabbing into his ear canal, pierced straight to his brain.

"Haah... haah..."

The world was stained in crimson.

Through his blood-red vision, crimson flowers of gore bloomed everywhere. Human bodies, torn in half, hung like laundry over the exposed skeletal frame of the building.

"Haah... haah..."

Breathing was a struggle.

Orange embers fluttered through the air like fireflies, crackling as they drifted. Groans of agony—whether real or hallucinatory—echoed faintly before cutting out, one by one.

Just how many... how many people had died?

"Ugh...!"

Unable to hold it back, he retched and threw up.

He had recently started eating breakfast, a meal he used to skip regularly, because the calories consumed by his magic training and studies were immense.

Magic.

Magic was the reason Muzark had survived.

And magic was the reason dozens of lives had just been snuffed out.

Doubled over and vomiting, he suddenly snapped his head up.

"...Yen."

Like a madman, or a wild beast, he scanned his surroundings. He searched through the endlessly rising plumes of smoke for a tuft of brown hair, or perhaps a calloused finger.

Then, like a miracle, a faint breath reached his ears.

A hand buried under the rubble lay just a short distance away. Muzark frantically yet carefully cleared the debris. Perhaps it was the adrenaline-fueled strength born of crisis, but the heavy concrete felt weightless.

No, that wasn't it.

His hands, pushing away the steel beams, were encased in black iron gauntlets. His flowing blood was transforming into dark mana. Furthermore, though Muzark did not realize it, this place was overflowing with 'catalysts' for dark magic.

Traces that signified death.

Traces invisible to the naked eye.

Thanks to that, Muzark was able to pull Yen free.

"Yen."

"..."

"Hey, Yen."

He shook her limp body, calling her name repeatedly.

When no response came, Muzark's expression hardened. But his efforts were not in vain; Yen suddenly coughed, spitting up a mouthful of blood.

It was a good sign. She was alive.

'At least her limbs are still attached.'

The sheer utility of magic was astonishing.

Despite an explosion powerful enough to level the entire building, neither Muzark nor Yen had lost any limbs. The timing of the system's message had been absolutely fucking terrible, but it had at least given them enough time to deploy their Shields.

Muzark hoisted Yen onto his back.

With every step he took, his mind grew clearer.

'What should I have done differently?'

Should he have killed Lahar back then after all?

'No, that wouldn't have changed anything.'

Regret flared up, only to be quickly suppressed. No matter how he looked at it, taking Lahar's life alone wouldn't have stopped this.

This terror attack was not the work of just one or two people. It would have been impossible without numerous accomplices and executors. It was a meticulously planned operation, utilizing Demon Bombs perfected through several prior experiments.

He couldn't see any 'right' path he could have taken.

Pointing out the connection between the demons and the explosions? He had never even imagined such magic existed, and how could he have proven it anyway? Even Yen, with all her magical expertise, hadn't been able to figure it out.

The Security Bureau relied heavily on demons. Mages were scarce, while non-mages willing to contract with demons were a dime a dozen. He couldn't have just swept all the demons away based on an unsubstantiated claim.

The emotions that followed these logical deductions.

Starting with the regret of what he should have done,

Leading to the helplessness of knowing there was nothing he could do,

And finally, burning all those useless thoughts to ash.

Muzark grit his teeth, clenching his jaw.

'Every single one of them.'

He would slaughter every last one of them.

To look only at the positive outcomes—since describing the raw reality would be too gruesome—there were surprisingly many survivors. Far more than Muzark had expected when he first thought he might be the sole survivor.

Eight people had survived the horrific terror attack, either through sheer luck or by displaying quick-witted resourcefulness. The rescue operation was carried out by officers who happened to be out of the building at the time, along with local residents sympathetic to the bureau.

Unsurprisingly, the proportion of mages among the survivors was extremely high.

The Shield spell, which the vast majority of mages learned, was incredibly useful in disasters and terror attacks. Once deployed, it rendered them virtually immune to secondary hazards, such as being crushed under falling debris.

Among the survivors was the Chief of the Security Bureau, Shadia Drury.

"...I heard there were no ambushes during the rescue operation."

"Yes. They didn't show so much as a hair."

"They didn't even need to."

Shadia looked up at Muzark from her hospital bed. She had been classified as lightly injured. Although the Demon Bomb had detonated on the roof directly above her top-floor office, her swift casting of defensive magic had saved her life.

"The Security Bureau has already suffered a blow from which it cannot recover. Massacring civilians just to crush us completely would only be putting a noose around their own necks."

This incident was an organized, magical act of terror.

"The news must have reached the upper echelons by now. It won't be long before investigators from Orangeline descend upon us. They possess a level of power that mere terrorists could never hope to match."

Nor should they even try to match it.

If even a single investigator were harmed, giants far more terrifying would turn their gaze toward Redline. It would be a one-way ticket to absolute annihilation.

"If I were them, I would wait until the investigators return, satisfied with some 'reasonable results.' Once the Security Bureau is left completely defenseless, picking off the survivors one by one would be... so very simple..."

Shadia couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence, her lips trembling.

"...I was foolish."

She looked as if she were begging for forgiveness.

"My vision was too narrow. I assumed demons were the exclusive domain of the Security Bureau. I believed that with Redline's level of technology, no one could utilize demons better than Yen and myself."

"What are you trying to say?"

"In the upper regions, they do not blindly label demons as evil. Mana-based lifeforms can be utilized in countless ways. Though I have never seen a method like this before..."

Shadia gripped her bedsheets so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"I should have foreseen it. It is my incompetence—"

"To be honest, I don't give a damn about any of that."

His voice was flat and cold. Shadia, who had bowed her head, looked up once more. Muzark was staring down at her with eyes as cold as a winter sea.

"What do you plan to do now? I heard you had a plan."

"A plan... a plan, you say."

Letting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out a self-deprecating chuckle, Shadia pulled out a cigarette case. There wasn't a single cigarette inside, but when she tapped it against her palm, three small stone fragments fell out.

"They are tracking devices. These were the only things I managed to salvage because I had them on my person. One is linked to a Lower 3rd Class mage I was keeping an eye on, one to Lahar's right-hand man, and the last one... *sigh*."

"Go on."

"Is linked to Lahar."

Without a word, Muzark held out his hand.

"Can I take them?"

"You?"

"Yes."

His gaze was cold and unyielding, as if he would take them by force if she refused.

"I'll go and kill every last one of them."

Muzark's vision shifted.

The hint that had been given to him long ago.

Completely separate from the terror attack that had already occurred.

The hint now served as his guiding light.

There would be no more patience.