No Time to Wait
Thirty minutes earlier.
Yen regained consciousness approximately thirteen hours after being admitted to the hospital. Bandages wrapped her flank and shoulder, but she had suffered no life-threatening injuries.
Yet, Muzark sensed a dark future looming.
His instincts screamed it. Yen's pale complexion, her parched lips, the tremor in her breath, her sorrowful gaze, and the fragile aura clinging to her—all of it forced him to face a grim reality.
The stench of death filled the hospital room.
"I'm broken, Muzark."
Those were the first words out of Yen's mouth after a long silence.
"I knew the moment I opened my eyes. As a mage, I'm already dead. Maybe it was over a long time ago, and I was just dragging it out. Pathetic, really."
"Speak plainly."
"It's an extension of the reason I came down to Redline in the first place."
The aftereffects of her magic.
She spoke in a voice completely devoid of emotion.
"I can draw upon my future mana. I call it 'the future,' but of course, it's not some high-tier time magic. It just overworks my circuits. Like wringing out a wet rag."
Yen gave a hollow laugh.
"Maybe magic never suited me from the start. 'A bitch who doesn't know her place.' I heard that so many times it made me sick. And in the end, because I still didn't know my place, I ended up like this."
As she muttered, a memory from the past overlapped with her current state. Her innocent smile when she spoke of "real magic." The slum girl who had stared, spellbound, at the clusters of stars painting the night sky.
Unable to bear the sight, Muzark squeezed his eyes shut. But damn it all, an auditory hallucination began to ring in his ears.
"I'm going to climb to the top—"
"Is there a cure? You must have looked into everything."
"I searched like crazy. But you already know the answer to that."
There were precedents of broken circuits being restored.
However, it wasn't a method available to an ordinary mage. It required supreme treasures or highly specialized treatment—the kind of medical care only the prestigious families of Yellowline or above could afford.
"Even back when my condition was better, they couldn't do anything in Yellowline. Now that my circuits are completely shattered and the environment here is ten times worse... well, there's no hope."
"Why are you talking like it's someone else's problem?"
"I know, right? My head understands, but I guess it hasn't sunk in yet."
Yen looked at Muzark with dull eyes—no, she was trying her best to look unaffected. But since he refused to meet her gaze, she could only offer a bitter smile.
She looked out the window.
It was a starless night sky. Whenever she looked at the sky, she used to think of bright, twinkling stars, but tonight, it only filled her with dread. It was a darkness that swallowed helpless humans whole.
Had she lived without fear for too long?
Before she could stop it, a single thought spilled from her heart.
"I guess this is as far as I go."
Without magic, Yen was just a weak, fragile human.
A girl who felt more joy at being thrown a scrap of bread than anger at being insulted; a girl who stuffed her belly with the compensation money from her sibling's death, only to sob her heart out at night.
A pathetic life, easily shaken and quick to give up.
It was time to wake up from the long dream and return to reality.
To waste what little time she had left drowning in regret.
"...How did it come to this?"
Her final words were barely a whisper to herself.
The torrent of emotions she had been desperately suppressing finally burst through. Unwilling to cry out pathetically, she bit her lip until it bled. A groan, sounding like the whimper of a wounded beast, leaked through her teeth.
"I can't listen to this anymore."
Muzark stood up from his chair and turned around.
Yen couldn't bring herself to ask him anything as his back receded. She didn't have the luxury to care about what others thought. Every time a sob welled up in her throat, the shards of her broken circuits tore through her blood vessels.
"Ugh... hic... sob..."
Leaving behind Yen, who was clutching her chest and gasping for air, Muzark walked out of the room. Without a single moment of hesitation, his steps led him straight to Shadia's hospital room.
Shadia had warned him of the danger.
Be calm. Wait for the right moment.
"It's a dog's death. We aren't even in a position to support a mage, so what can you possibly do alone? Cooperating with the investigator's inquiry is the wisest path..."
Muzark asked himself:
Am I not being calm right now?
There was no denying he was angrier than he had ever been. Adrenaline was flooding his system, completely numbing the pain from the wounds on his limbs.
Perhaps he was like a moth flying into a flame, rushing toward his own demise. Perhaps this was just the self-indulgence of a novice mage, a reckless stunt born of an inability to see reason.
Yet, his mind was sharper than ever.
I don't have the luxury of waiting.
A tracking spell whose duration was unknown.
Yen, who wouldn't be surprising if she took her own life tomorrow.
Shadia, who was merely drowning in guilt while pretending to be rational.
Revenge was only half the goal.
Muzark was the only one planning for the future.
Prudence is a virtue, but there are times when your decisiveness is tested.
The message, as always, cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Shamelessly, it was still pretending to be his guide.
Sometimes, you must be bold.
An underground private gambling den in Eastred.
"Clap, clap, clap! Just a little more... Ah, you son of a bitch!"
"All bark and no bite, huh?"
"Bullshit! Since when is roulette a matter of skill?"
"It's about intuition, my friend, intuition. You've got to use your eyes and your brain."
Even though it had officially shut down years ago, the gambling den was bustling with noise. Every roll of the dice and spin of the roulette wheel decided winners and losers. The bets placed ranged from cold hard cash to various valuables.
"Shut up and deal. Fuck. Just deal."
"Look at you acting tough. Better watch your teeth."
Crash!
In a literal "slap-bet" where the loser gets struck in the face, a man who lost was sent sprawling across a table. As he struggled to regain his senses, the onlookers burst into roaring laughter.
To some, it was a pathetic display.
"They're having a grand old time. Like a bunch of savages."
"At least they're easy to control when they're like this."
Lahar, far from stopping them, clapped his hands in amusement. They weren't the type to listen even if he tried to stop them anyway. Not that he had the slightest desire to join in.
"I don't get it. I heard more than half of those Security Bureau bastards are dead or crippled. Sure, a few mages survived, but is it really enough to make us hide like this?"
"Did you listen to my explanation with your asshole?"
Lahar shook his head at his subordinate's complaint.
"We're not hiding. We're preparing. The director might be a cold-blooded bastard who doesn't care about revenge, but his subordinates aren't. They might lose their minds and hunt us down with fire in their eyes."
"...Sounds like something Yen would do," the subordinate agreed.
As they spoke, a vicious voice cut in.
"I could kill a piece-of-trash mage like her all by myself."
Tilla, a Lower 3rd Class mage.
Until a few years ago, she was one of the mages who ruled Eastred. But as the Security Bureau grew in power, Tilla had been reduced to scraping by as a mercenary.
Tilla had not forgotten.
The first and last time she had met Yen. With both of them possessing massive egos, friction was inevitable. From their very first meeting, the two mages had insulted each other, calling one another "trash" and "third-rate."
"Haha. I know, I know. That's why I went to such lengths to bring you here."
Lahar played along smoothly. Despite saying he went to "great lengths," it had actually been incredibly easy to win her over by exploiting her rivalry with Yen. Tilla had always harbored a deep resentment toward the Security Bureau anyway.
To be honest, I'm not really worried about Yen.
Yen wasn't the type to act rashly now that the Security Bureau had collapsed. Nor was she so attached to the Bureau that she would be consumed by a desire for revenge. She was the most typical, individualistic mage in Redline.
Besides, could she even fight anymore?
There was a reason she was called trash.
It's the other one that bothers me...
There was another mage in the Security Bureau with outstanding potential. Compared to Yen, he lacked experience and was still soft when dealing with outlaws—an unripened mage.
And because of that, there was a risk he might act on impulse.
"We'll just have to teach him his place."
Lahar wore a slimy smirk. If the kid rushed in without valuing his own life, all the better. If luck was on their side, they might even lay their hands on Harmensales.
Is that too greedy?
Even if it was a high-ranking demon, it might have died this time. The basement of the Security Bureau, where Harmensales's husk was kept, was a place where the Demon Bombs could never be detected, so they had planted the largest number of bombs there.
"By the way, where did our 'Mr. Mage' run off to?"
"Who knows. He'll probably show his face by the time the investigator gets down here."
"I don't like that bastard. He's untrustworthy."
At Tilla's harsh words, Lahar replied casually.
"Who is there to trust around here? We're just using each other. The only reason prickly folks like us are even pretending to get along is because we see some utility in Mr. Mage."
"Then what utility does he see in us?"
"How should I know?"
Lahar shrugged and added,
"We just kill time here, teach a lesson to any stray puppies that wander in, and then scatter to go our separate ways once those unmotivated wolves from above descend..."
Screeech!
A rusted hinge groaned, emitting an unpleasant, grating noise.
As if on cue, the clamor died down instantly. The thirty-odd outlaws occupying the gambling den turned their eyes to the entrance in unison. The iron door swung open, revealing the silhouette of an uninvited guest.
A headcount of one.
A single intruder.
"Haha! What a crazy bastard!"
The moment Lahar recognized the familiar face, he burst into laughter. It was an almost reflexive reaction. He found the kid's foolishness—the sheer stupidity of invading enemy territory entirely alone—almost pitiful.
The outlaws rose to their feet.
"Who's this pretty boy?"
"What are you doing standing around, you freeloaders? Grab your weapons."
"Impeccable timing. I was just getting bored of gambling."
The confidence born of overwhelming numbers. A momentary lapse in vigilance, caused by knowing just how vile and demonic the true natures of the men laughing and joking beside him were.
And hidden from their line of sight, obscured by the intruder's body...
A magic circle drawn in blood on the wall of the staircase leading down to the gambling den.
Muzark growled.
"Harmensales."
Whoosh!
A blood-red current surged from beneath his feet.
Everyone froze. An indescribable presence saturated the room. For those closest to the entrance, their lungs began to rapidly constrict.
Their brains, tricked by the pressure, began to malfunction. The intangible force permeating the air seemed to multiply gravity, making it feel as if fists, rather than oxygen, were being shoved down their noses and throats.
Perhaps it was the survival instinct at work.
When even flight is denied, the only struggle left for an inferior creature facing an almighty existence is silence. To hold one's breath and beg for mercy in the depths of one's heart.
As the demon's voice echoed, Tilla shrieked.
"Snap out of it, you idiots!"
Her mana-infused shout broke the psychological shackles binding the outlaws. A demon's essence was mana. To withstand such pressure, one needed either an iron will or a structured system of mana manipulation.
Hostility born of terror flared up.
"K-Kill him! Kill him before he does anything stupid!"
"Who the fuck do you think you are, you little shit!"
Burly bodies charging like rhinos, unsheathed knives, brandished bludgeons, and two revolvers aiming from a distance. Raw, unrefined, naked malice.
Looking down upon them with cold eyes.
Muzark extended his index finger and pointed.
"Devour them all."
The pests that needed to be exterminated.