Siruntel Demonic Realm (2)
Tower of Illusions, Chamber One.
The martial arts students of Class G milled about in a noisy chatter, waiting for their instructor to arrive.
I'm so bored.
Celia sat at the very back, staring blankly into space, crushed under a crushing weight of free time. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger and glanced around, hunting for anything that might kill the monotony.
Without warning, Leon's face drifted up through her thoughts.
"Hmm."
Lately, no matter where she went, all anyone talked about was Leon. He'd already been fairly well-known for everything he'd pulled off — but after taking down the chimera that appeared on the tenth floor, there wasn't a single person left at the Academy who didn't know his name.
He really is incredible.
Celia felt a fierce, swelling pride that someone like him was her friend. Finding pure joy in someone else's success was a strange, unfamiliar feeling for her — one she had never quite known before.
Truth be told, she had always liked Leon's fearless personality. Looking back, it was fair to say he was exactly the type she hadn't even realized she wanted. He looked reckless on the surface, yet there was always a plan working behind the scenes. And even when he charged in headlong, he had the skill to back it up. That was why he always acted without hesitation, following whatever he believed was right.
Not long ago, while walking through the streets of Elaim, he had caught a little kid trying to pickpocket someone, given the boy a few solid smacks — then tracked down the thugs who had put the kid up to it, beaten all thirteen of them into a pulp, tied them together with a single rope, and dumped them at the guard station.
Celia had been deeply impressed watching that. So impressed that she had started entertaining a very dangerous thought: she wanted to become more like Leon.
Maybe that was why, the moment her gaze landed on the training grounds deeper inside the chamber, a competitive fire flared up in her chest.
The tenth floor… the tenth floor, huh. That's amazing.
The last time Celia had challenged the Illusion Monster Gauntlet, she had been stopped at the eighth floor. Now the urge to try again rose sharp and sudden.
"All right."
Decision made, she walked up to the instructor and asked to attempt the eighth floor.
"Uh… sure, go ahead."
Faced with the look in her eyes that said she would accept no argument, the instructor agreed without a fight. For the class representative, ranked fifth overall, and the youngest daughter of House Helbridge, a request like this was nothing. It would take five minutes at most.
Rrrrrumble—!!
…And the instructor immediately regretted that decision so hard he wanted to pound the floor.
Crumbling, powdery soil. A blood-red sky and a black sun. Demonic energy drifted thick through the air, and from time to time a mournful wail echoed across the land — a landscape straight out of hell.
Thud! Thud!
Twenty-five students came tumbling down from the sky and hit the ground hard.
"Urgh…"
"W-where the hell are we now!?"
Leon landed cleanly, pulled a cigarette from his coat, and lit it in one smooth motion.
"L-Leon! What in the world is this place…!"
"A Demonic Realm."
"…!"
Carotin swept his gaze across the surroundings, then raked a hand roughly through his hair and spat a curse.
"Goddamn it…"
He knew Leon was right.
"Fuuu… Gather up, everyone."
Leon's voice, laced with mana, rolled out low and clear. Every student's attention snapped to him at once.
"You've all figured out the situation, right? Looks like something went wrong with the Tower of Illusions and we got dumped in the wrong place."
The students looked like they couldn't quite believe him. In all the long years of the Tower's existence, no one had ever heard of it malfunctioning.
"And as you can tell just by looking around, this is a Demonic Realm. Judging by how thick the demonic energy is, we're right in the heart of it."
The students' faces went a shade paler. It was no different from being grabbed by the collar and hurled straight into the middle of a battlefield. It was almost impossible to believe — and they didn't want to believe it — but the greasy, clinging demonic energy saturating every breath made denial impossible. This was no illusion. No dream.
Leon took a deep drag and went on.
"No need to freak out that much. This is exactly what we've been training for, isn't it?"
"…"
"The Academy won't just sit on its hands either. Rescue should be on the way soon enough."
And yet — that same casual tone, that same easy smile and posture. Leon's total lack of concern slowly bled the panic out of them. Without quite realizing it, the class had come to lean on him over the months he had led them.
"Just keep your heads on straight. With our firepower, we can handle most demonic beasts without breaking a sweat."
He wasn't wrong. More than twenty Expert-rank martial artists standing together could more than take care of themselves.
And with Mazias dead, it should be a lot less dangerous.
In the original story, Mazias's underlings would have emerged here to threaten the students. But Mazias was already dead at Bergopf's hands — so the worst they were likely to run into were ordinary demonic beasts.
"Like we saw in that weird space a minute ago, the other classes got dragged here with us. Linking up with them is the safest play."
"We'll split into five squads and run the breakthrough formation we've drilled. Keep heading east from here and we'll hit Class B. Join up with them."
Leon rattled off orders at a clip. A few students shot him puzzled looks, sensing something off — but he pressed on without missing a beat.
"And Carotin — you're taking over as Squad One leader in my place."
"…Hold on, Leon. What are you talking about?"
Carotin seized Leon's shoulder, his face grim.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Didn't you see? Celia was alone."
Leon said it as casually as if he were announcing he'd grab dinner out tonight.
"I'm going to get her."
"…What?"
Carotin's mouth worked soundlessly. He couldn't even decide where to start objecting.
"Leon, are you serious!?"
"You're going off alone!?"
A wave of protests crashed over him. And fair enough — this was a Demonic Realm. Wandering off alone through the very heart of one, where a direct passage to the Demon Realm itself existed, sounded an awful lot like suicide. Of course the students were losing their minds.
"Ah— right! What about that brooch the Intelligence Division gave us!?"
The golden brooch that, if snapped, would summon the Imperial Knights. Carotin frantically patted himself down — until Leon stopped him.
"Gone."
"…?"
"Artifacts didn't make the transfer. Mana signature mismatch, probably."
Even the spatial pouch Leon always carried was gone. He hadn't seen that coming either.
Maybe because Billy never used artifacts.
The original story hadn't bothered with details that fine.
"And that spear Celia always uses — that's an artifact too, right?"
"…!"
Carotin went white. He was right. Celia's spear, Livgium — specially forged to channel spirit power, able to freely change its length and form — was an expensive artifact.
Which meant—
"Celia dropped in here with no weapon at all."
Leon flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and brushed off his hands. A smoke always cleared his head and sharpened his sense of mana. There was a reason he lit one before every fight.
"We don't have time to stand around talking, Carotin. Demonic beasts that caught our scent will be on us any second. Move."
The reason Leon insisted on going alone was simple: the other students wouldn't help — they'd only slow him down. He needed to cut a path to Celia as fast as possible, and there was no way they could keep up with his speed.
Carotin could probably manage… but.
Carotin had to stay and lead the rest. Someone had to hold the center of the formation and give orders, and he was the only one Leon trusted to do it. Objectively, Leon going alone was the right call. Carotin knew it too — which was why he kept glancing back and forth between Leon and the others, torn.
Leon mattered. But Celia was a precious friend to him as well. Holding Leon back here would mean abandoning her.
In the end, Carotin let out a long breath.
"…Be careful, Leon."
Leon flashed him a crooked grin that said don't worry about me.
"Squad One on point! Squad Two left flank! Squad Four right flank! Squads Three and Five take the rear!"
Carotin began pulling the students into formation. Even as they moved to their positions, the Class A students kept glancing back at Leon. Respect. Concern. Fear. Reluctance. Worry. A dozen emotions flickered through their eyes. Their pillar — the one person who held Class A together — was suddenly peeling off on his own.
Leon wasn't particularly worried. A sudden real fight might rattle them, but Class A would handle itself just fine.
That's what I trained them for.
He'd already given Carotin every scrap of information that mattered. As long as they followed his lead, nothing would go wrong.
The person who needed worrying about right now was someone else entirely.
Fwoosh!
Leaving the students' stares behind him, Leon slammed a foot into the ground and launched forward.
Get Celia, then link up with Class J.
If the original held true, Class G and Class J should be the closest to each other.
Tap. Ta-da-dak!
Afterimages streaked behind him as his body shot forward like the wind.
"GROOOOAAAR!"
A demonic beast burst out of nowhere dead ahead.
Shiiing!
Leon drew the Heaven-Shattering Sword and brought it down in the same motion.
Slash—!
The beast split cleanly in two and crumpled, clearing the path. As he passed between the severed halves, hot black blood sprayed across him. The sticky, metallic reek crawled up his face. He didn't so much as flinch — just poured on more speed.
—All to save one damn friend.