Expanding the Circle
My circle of acquaintances had grown.
"U-um... I'm Misha..."
"Ah, yes. I'm Muzark."
"Ah...! Yes. Hehehe. Let's do our best..."
Yen had introduced her to him, mentioning that they would occasionally have to work in teams. The woman, Misha, had a timid air about her, but her goofy grin made her look as gentle as a puppy.
The other person was clearly the silent type.
A nod.
The man barely acknowledged him with a half-hearted tilt of his head before going back to fidgeting with his mask. Muzark had known someone just like him back in high school—someone he hadn't spoken to for more than three minutes in total by the time they graduated.
I wonder how this one will turn out.
"That's Evan. I won't force you to be friends, but just keep him in mind," Yen added by way of explanation.
"They're both non-mages contracted with demons. Even if they're just nameless, low-tier demons, they're still better than ordinary people. Regardless of their actual skills, it at least makes them look tough, right? They pulled off the same first job you did."
Judging by her tone, they seemed to be rookies with similar levels of experience. Setting Yen aside, having three rookies on one team was an unusual lineup for any organization.
"Since we're all here, I'd love to buy you guys a meal as your team leader, but..."
Shrugging, Yen looked at Muzark.
"Head over to the headquarters, Muzark."
"Me?"
"The Director is calling for you."
He wasn't surprised; he had expected a summons sooner or later. As he nodded to the other team members and turned to leave, Yen grabbed his arm and pulled him close.
"Don't trust the Director too much."
"What?"
"Think carefully about where to draw the line—what to hide and what to reveal to protect yourself. If you just blabber everything in desperation like you did with me, who knows what'll happen to you."
She added one last warning.
"She can do a lot more than I can."
According to the directory, the Director's office was on the top floor, the fourth. The building had no elevator, forcing him to abuse his legs. It was just another one of the civilizational imbalances of Redline.
As he walked through the headquarters, Muzark was subjected to all kinds of stares.
"There are so many rookies lately. I feel like I barely recognize anyone anymore."
"Haven't you heard? The one Yen brought in the other day..."
"That's him? I don't know if he's lucky or unlucky. Wonder how long he'll last..."
It seemed rumors of the 'rookie contracted with Harmensales' had spread through the grapevine. Having people gossip about him wasn't pleasant, but he could easily treat it as just another piece of information.
Actually, this might play in my favor.
Even if it hadn't been entirely of his own free will, Muzark had stolen the contract from Claude Regan. That meant it could happen again. How would Muzark look to those who coveted Harmensales' power?
Even Yen gets a cold look in her eyes sometimes.
The rumors would serve as a decent deterrent. Since Muzark had joined the Security Bureau at the Director's invitation, the chances of someone recklessly trying to steal his contract were low.
I need to establish myself before the Director decides to slice me open herself.
There was no telling how long the Director's name would serve as a shield. While his life still hung by a thread, he had to secure his position and grow stronger as quickly as possible.
Life is a real struggle, damn it.
Every day felt like walking on thin ice.
"Come in."
After knocking to announce his presence, he entered the Director's office.
"I heard you were looking for me."
"Yes. To see how you're doing, and to take care of some business."
Seated in her leather chair, Shadia Drury was dressed in a neat suit today as well. Once again, she looked completely out of place in Redline. Yen had a vibrant, flashy energy, but the two of them were cut from entirely different cloths.
"I heard your first mission went smoothly."
"I think it went well enough."
"I'm sure. Even if it was only a Lower 4th Class and there were unexpected variables, you still faced a mage alone. Since low-tier demons shouldn't pose much of a threat to you now, I'll start assigning you proper work."
Lower 4th Class. Is that the rank Claude Regan had?
"Would you come closer?"
He approached without a word. Shadia rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a ticket. It was pure white, printed with a geometric ink pattern.
"It's a mage license."
"This is?"
"Tear it, and it will activate on its own."
Following her instructions, he tore the ticket in half, and it dissolved into countless particles of light. Muzark stared blankly as the swarm of light absorbed into his body.
He had experienced magic several times leading up to this day.
He had cast it himself, and he had fought against demons and shadow monsters. But this was the first time he had witnessed a phenomenon so beautiful, devoid of any grotesque elements—something that truly felt like 'magic.'
"Congratulations. With this, your name has been registered in the Empire's archives."
"Um, don't I need to have my magic verified or something?"
"We took a blood sample through Yen earlier, remember? This license was issued by transmitting that sample to the city's archive terminal. The verification was completed then, and the license is structured to link directly to your magic circuit."
The Archive.
It was a sort of computer network encompassing all registered mages in the nation, with terminals installed in every city. Accessing someone else's information required mutual consent or special authorization.
"A mage's spells and magical knowledge are their personal assets. Unless you commit a crime or belong to a strict state institution, you are under no obligation to disclose your magic."
"Then how are classes determined?"
"It's fundamentally merit-based. You can contribute to city development and public security, gain fame in the magic community through academic papers, or study under a renowned mage—there are various ways. Mages who are obsessed with their class often disclose their mastered magic to have their skills officially recognized."
This meant that class and actual skill did not always align. It was more accurate to view a mage's class as a measure of social status rather than raw power.
"The default activation phrase is 'Visualize License.' Recite it, and your license will appear, which you can use to prove your identity. If you wish to change the activation phrase, you'll need to visit an archive terminal."
"Thank you for the detailed explanation."
As he quietly muttered the activation phrase, the light coalesced into a translucent card. Perhaps because he was a complete novice, there wasn't much written on it.
It seemed the lowest rank was Lower 5th Class.
Seeing it like this...
You really were a nobody, Claude Regan.
"Well, that concludes our official business."
"Is there something else?"
"Have you experienced any abnormalities lately? Auditory hallucinations, or perhaps a tightness in your chest?"
It was a sudden question, but it struck a chord. Muzark instinctively pressed a hand against his chest. The sensation of a foreign object inside him had been growing stronger by the day, to the point where he had tossed and turned all night.
"I see you have."
"Is it related to Harmensales after all?"
"He went from feasting every single day to starving for over two weeks. Of course he's hungry."
Shadia stood up.
"Let's go feed him."
He listened to her explanation as they descended into the basement.
"Harmensales is known as the Apostle of Knowledge. The concept of an apostle is distinct from the species of demons, but I'll skip that explanation. It's not a topic we ever have to deal with in Redline."
"Aren't we dealing with it right now, though?"
"Just understand that Harmensales is an exceptional existence. He likely hid in Redline after sustaining a fatal wound somewhere. If he had appeared in his prime, high-class mages would have swarmed this place in droves."
Just how lucky was Claude Regan?
"Honestly, considering the danger, it wouldn't be surprising if someone from above came down even now... but as a resident of Redline, that's not something I'd welcome. Attention from the upper lines always brings a bloodbath."
This could be interpreted as her intentionally concealing it from the higher-ups. It was hard for Muzark to comprehend. Rumors had already spread all over the Security Bureau; was concealment even possible at this point?
Should I assume they're even more disconnected from the upper lines than I thought?
It seemed highly plausible.
According to Yen, mages from the upper regions were dispatched barely once a year. Those at the very bottom might not even have a way to contact them.
"What you need to know right now is the reward you'll receive for fulfilling the contract. Generally, you inherit mana, special abilities, or certain physical traits of the demon—"
Screeech! Skrrrrt!
The sound of metal scraping and a foul stench filled the underground space. Muzark instinctively frowned, while Shadia remained perfectly composed and calm.
"But in Harmensales' case, he bestows knowledge."
"Isn't 'knowledge' a bit too broad?"
"True. No matter how great a demon is, they can't possibly know everything in the universe. If they did, they wouldn't be a demon; we'd have to worship them as an omniscient god."
The click-clack of her heels mingled with her voice.
"But I can guarantee this much: Harmensales possesses knowledge far vaster and deeper than any living being in Redline."
Shadia chuckled.
"In a way, he's closer to a sage than a demon."
Thud.
She set the lantern down in front of a holding cell in the far right corner.
"I'll show you the procedure."
The procedure wasn't particularly difficult.
Spill a certain amount of the contractor's blood and call the demon's name three times. As mana flowed through an invisible connection, a magic circle of blood drew itself.
"I guess Claude Regan didn't draw the magic circle in the mine either."
"A spell that a Lower 4th Class mage can handle can't be that impressive. While it's difficult to judge a criminal's true skill solely by their mage class, I doubt his mastery was anything remarkable."
The more I learn, the more of a nobody he seems.
"Go ahead and claim your reward."
Her characteristically blunt voice faded, and—
Whoooosh!
A dark red mist descended.
A powerful presence felt after a long time. However, it wasn't as overwhelming as before. Perhaps because he had been living with the connection in his chest, it felt almost familiar.
A hunched mass of flesh, glaring yellow eyes.
Muzark looked up at the demon and pointed beyond the bars of the holding cell.
Inside, low-tier demons were trapped, slowly dying. Born of mana, these demons were a far more efficient source of nourishment than cheap mana stones.
Soon, the body of smoke slipped through the iron bars. The mist enveloped the inside of the cell. Shortly after, desperate screams and the sounds of tearing and crushing echoed from within.
It didn't take long for the noise to subside.
Harmensales returned to stand before Muzark.
Immediately after, the mist expanded, cutting off Shadia from Muzark. Just before his vision was completely blocked, Muzark caught a glimpse of Shadia's face, slightly contorted in frustration.
"...I wondered what was happening. Can she not even hear us?"
Does that mean she had some kind of magical wiretap installed?
No wonder she had been so kind as to explain everything from A to Z.
Seriously, there's not a single person I can trust.
Now, onto the main business.
To be honest, until just a minute ago, he hadn't given it much thought.
That was because Shadia had been sticking close to him. Since he had no idea what she was plotting in her heart, asking any truly valuable questions would have been too risky.
I was just going to play along with whatever she wanted.
But now that her eyes and ears were blocked, the story was different.
A perfect opportunity had presented itself, addressing something that had been weighing on his mind.
"Forget everything else. Let me ask you just one thing."
Muzark quickly made his choice and asked.
"What is this 'Cryptofetica' that I possess?"
The mysterious term written in the system message.
The unique trait of the dark mage 'Muzark Bespard.'
The only weapon held by his otherwise powerless self.