A New Vessel
It took about an hour of driving along the highway after passing through the gate.
The moment he crossed the threshold into Eastorange, Aiden rolled down his window. Cool, crisp air rushed in, filling his lungs.
It certainly is pleasant here.
A weather-control spell enveloped the entire city.
Though they adjusted the temperature periodically to simulate the passing of seasons, the fluctuations were never drastic. Even in the dead of summer, the temperature hovered comfortably between ten and twenty degrees Celsius.
A part of daily life he had always taken for granted now felt like a profound blessing.
It really is an incredible piece of magic.
The walls dividing the regions, the barriers surrounding the cities—the legendary achievements of the Archmage recorded in the history books still sustained the Empire even after more than a thousand years.
Of course, one couldn't say the system was being perfectly maintained. Redline was living proof of its decay. Most of the protective barriers in that region had long since failed.
From that perspective, the doomsday theorists weren't entirely spouting nonsense. If the walls of Redline truly collapsed, Orangeline would be next, followed by Yellowline.
I just hope it holds together at least while my children are alive.
Aiden muttered to himself, a bitter smile playing on his lips.
“I must have picked up more stress than I realized.”
Spending just a few days down there had filled his head with all sorts of idle thoughts.
Aiden pulled out his handheld terminal. The communication device, utterly useless in Redline due to the lack of base stations, buzzed back to life. He sent a quick message to his wife letting her know he was back, then headed straight to work.
The Eastorange Security Bureau.
Within the thirteen-story building, numerous mana signatures could be felt. It was the organization that housed the greatest number of mages in the city.
“Aiden? Back already?”
A potbellied man he happened to run into in the lobby called out to him. It was Second-Class Investigator Alexei Murphy. Aiden stepped into the elevator with him.
“No, just back to handle some paperwork.”
“Is that so? You're working too hard. How was Redline?”
“Exactly as expected. No place for a civilized man.”
“Tsk, tsk. Didn't I tell you? I only went down there back when I was a rookie. Nowadays, I'd drag my feet even if the Chief ordered me directly. You didn't even go when you were a rookie, so why go looking for trouble now?”
Alexei clapped Aiden playfully on the shoulder, then froze, quickly pulling his hand back.
“Ah, right. Now that I think about it, former First-Class Investigator Drury was your mentor.”
Everyone who was anyone in the Bureau knew about Aiden's voluntary dispatch to Redline. It was practically an open secret that his motives were tied to Shadia Drury.
“She was.”
Aiden calmly acknowledged it.
When Shadia fell from grace, Aiden had undergone rigorous questioning by investigators sent down from Yellowline, but he didn't view that association as a shameful stain on his past.
Besides, Shadia wasn't the first.
There had been several precedents of investigators turning into criminals. If anything, because Shadia's downfall occurred after she had already moved up to Yellowline, the direct impact on Eastorange had been minimal.
“I only volunteered to pay her a quick visit and say hello, but...”
“Hmm? Did something happen?”
“Not a problem, exactly. More like...”
The corner of Aiden's mouth twitched upward.
“I met a rather interesting fellow.”
Seeing him look uncharacteristically amused, Alexei clicked his tongue. Having known Aiden for so long, he knew from experience what kind of situations brought that particular look to his face.
“Looks like you picked up another half-wit somewhere.”
“He is a bit of a half-wit for now. He wouldn't even measure up to those rotten brats of mine. At least, not with his current level of skill. But if he's nurtured properly... I honestly can't fathom how far he might go.”
Until now, Muzark had never had the luxury of focusing on his growth.
From what Aiden could gather, Muzark had spent his entire life under constant threat of death. He might have accumulated plenty of real combat experience, but he had been utterly deprived of the time needed to build a proper foundation as a mage.
But from now on, things would be different.
Granted, Orangeline wasn't exactly an ideal environment for quiet, dedicated study either, but Muzark now had a mentor—a high-caliber expert who had thrived in Yellowline before her fall.
I feel a bit sorry for the mage Yen, but the circumstances couldn't be better.
Unless she obtained a perfect vessel, Yen would have to rely heavily on Muzark whether she liked it or not. This meant she would have no choice but to devote herself entirely to training her disciple without any distractions.
How magnificent a flower would bloom once the seed was planted in fertile soil?
“Alexei. Do you happen to know of any decent demons available on the market right now?”
“There are always demons. What do you mean by 'decent'?”
“Something convenient to carry around, and inconspicuous enough not to draw unwanted attention.”
“Hmm. For familiar use, not experimentation?”
True to his reputation as a demon enthusiast, Alexei answered without hesitation.
“An Inventor sounds like it would fit the bill.”
“That does fit the criteria. I wonder if there are any A-grade Inventors on the market.”
“An A-grade? That'll cost you a pretty penny, much more than you think.”
“I'll just have to write it off as a necessary expense.”
When returning a favor, one had to be generous.
After all, a transaction was only successful when both parties walked away satisfied, paving the way for future dealings. He might get an earful from his wife, but it would be foolish to ignore a stock that was guaranteed to skyrocket.
“Actually, a dealer I know did contact me about some new arrivals. I didn't pay much attention since my pockets have been a bit light lately.”
“I'll cover your finder's fee.”
“Haha! Well, don't mind if I do!”
Ding!
The elevator chimed as it came to a halt on the eleventh floor.
“I'll look into it and get back to you right away.”
“I'd appreciate that.”
“Hey, I'm the one making easy money here. I should be thanking you.”
As Alexei stepped out into the hallway with a grin, Aiden called after him.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“A favor? Something separate from the Inventor?”
“I need you to look into someone's identity. Within reasonable limits.”
The details he provided were what he had heard from Muzark.
“Estimated age in their twenties, brown hair, freckles on the nose. A mage whose primary specialty is demon taming. In combat, they utilize Smoke, Bullet, and Silence.”
“That's a fairly common spell combination. But demon taming as a primary specialty?”
Alexei tilted his head.
“Can't you find them in the archives?”
“...I suspect they might be beyond my clearance level.”
“You think they might be a mage from the upper Lines?”
It was an unexpected request.
How on earth had a man dispatched to Redline gotten tangled up with a mage from the upper regions? Aiden had framed it as a suspicion, but he seemed half-certain.
“Alright, I got it. Should I keep this quiet?”
“Rarely does making a fuss bring any good.”
“Fair enough.”
Aiden had no intention of sending the bomber's corpse to the coroner. He judged the risks to be far greater than any clues they might glean from an autopsy.
Since Harmensales's contractor killed him personally...
There was a chance trace amounts of demonic mana remained. He didn't want a single shred of physical evidence related to Harmensales to be made public, preventing even the slightest whisper of suspicion.
Every trace of Harmensales's existence would be thoroughly erased from Redline. Then, he would simply bring Muzark and Yen back, allowing them to blend seamlessly into everyday life.
Perfect.
His temporary dispatch was drawing to a close.
Muzark's "merit-farming" concluded without a hitch.
By the time Muzark returned to Eastred, Aiden had already descended to Redline once more. Unlike Muzark and Yen, who were thoroughly exhausted from running all over Redline, Aiden looked fresh and well-rested.
“It seems the task wasn't too difficult for you.”
“It was a hassle. There were plenty of guys who weren't even on the list.”
The list Aiden had provided contained thirteen names. In reality, however, Muzark had to deal with several times that number. Even a petty alley boss had lackeys trailing behind them, after all.
When Muzark presented the severed locks of hair as proof of his deeds, Aiden nodded in satisfaction.
“I'll submit the application for your promotion review.”
“Is this really enough?”
“The bastards you dealt with were Lower 4th Class mages at the very least. Your achievements deserve proper recognition. Of course, it'll be a headache if any of those reported dead turn out to be alive.”
In a lawless wasteland like Redline, verification procedures were practically nonexistent. As long as an investigator vouched for him, raising a Lower 5th Class mage's rank was as easy as pie.
It was a system practically designed for corruption.
Indeed, "sponsorships" occurred from time to time. Since an investigator had no reason to covet the meager wealth of a Redline mage, such favors were usually traded for sexual favors.
However, the limits of such arrangements were clear.
Was there even a one percent chance that a mage who sold their body to climb the ranks would suddenly blossom just because their environment changed? For most, only a gutter-like future awaited.
“In any case, all you need is to meet the minimum requirements to ascend to Orangeline. That would put you at around Lower 3rd Class or Lower 2nd Class. In the grand scheme of the Empire, it's still a bottom-tier position.”
Muzark readily understood.
Low-level grinds are always easy.
“Did your business go well?”
“Perfectly.”
Aiden unslung the backpack from his shoulders. He unzipped it and showed the interior. When Muzark peered inside, he was temporarily struck speechless.
“It was quite popular, so I had to pay a bit of a premium.”
Muzark's expression turned sour.
Popular? This thing?
The world has truly gone mad.
Surprisingly, Yen's reaction was positive.
“It actually looks pretty cute.”
It was far smaller than a typical demon.
It was about the size of a roll of toilet paper, with stubby arms and legs. Its eyes swirled with a gray, snail-like vortex of mist. It had a flat nose, and its mouth took up half its face.
To put it generously, it looked like a doll one might put out for Halloween. Even then, its design was so grotesque that anyone with normal sensibilities would have recoiled in disgust.
“Women tend to have discerning tastes, especially when it comes to the body they'll be inhabiting. I took its appearance into consideration as best as I could, so I'm glad you like it.”
“It's fine. An Inventor is functionally convenient, too.”
“Are you really okay with this?”
“Realistically speaking, it's the most satisfactory option.”
Muzark felt like a sane man trapped in an asylum.
“And what choice do I have anyway?”
Yen chuckled playfully. Muzark knew she was only joking to mask her anxiety. There was no way she could look at the vessel that would hold her soul without feeling a storm of emotions.
Aiden then began laying out the various catalysts to be used for the ritual.
“Are you prepared?”
“I'm not sure. Part of me feels ready, and another part doesn't.”
Yen bit her lip nervously, then stared intently at Muzark.
“Come here.”
“Huh?”
“Just for a second.”
Muzark approached the bed.
“Closer.”
“How close?”
“Just closer! Lean down, will you?!”
“Hey, why are you snapping at me?”
As the two bickered, Aiden quietly slipped out of the hospital room. When the twins, who had been banished to the hallway ten minutes prior for being too noisy, tried to say something, he shushed them with a finger to his lips.
While Aiden demonstrated the tact of a seasoned married man,
Muzark's face filled Yen's vision. The face she had half-jokingly, half-seriously praised for its good looks was now scrunched up in awkward confusion.
A sudden impulse washed over her.
If I don't do this, I'll never forgive myself.
This was the final moment she would spend in her own human body. To have lived such a foolish life, never even having a boyfriend, only to end up in the body of a grotesque little monster at such a young age...
Simply put, she wanted a single, innocent memory to hold onto.
“Hey, how long are you going to—”
Before he could finish, Yen pressed her lips against his face.
It wasn't even on the lips—just a light, fleeting peck on the cheek. It was a childish gesture, barely worthy of being called a kiss, yet a long-absent flush of crimson bloomed across Yen's pale face.
“Uh, *cough*.”
“S-shut up. Don't say a word.”
The reason her heart was hammering wildly over such a trivial touch wasn't because she was some naive schoolgirl, but because her absurd nervousness made her realize something profound.
That Muzark Bespard was someone who meant a great deal to her.
“...Next time, I won't stop at just this.”
For now, this was enough.