Mission Success
"Cough!Hack!"
Heros didn't give any real response to my words—just kept hacking up dry coughs.
I glanced at him for a moment, then surveyed our surroundings.
Smoke.
Smoke sustained entirely by my ability enveloped the whole space. Walls, ceiling, every object—everything.
It was the kind of scene that could make you think you'd wandered into a cloud. Of course, most of this wasn't cloud smoke; it was cigar smoke.
"Cigar smoke—pretty harsh, right?"
I said that as I pulled another cigar from my pocket and casually sliced off the end with my cigar cutter.
Cigar smoke is, at its core, smoke from burning tobacco leaves. Hot, acrid smoke.
Unless I needed a massive volume for some big technique, even I usually just held the smoke in my mouth—what they call mouth-chewing.
"Cough!Ugh!Cough!"
And now that smoke filled every corner.
"Hmm. Perfect."
With the end neatly trimmed, I took out my lighter from my pocket and slowly lit the cigar.
What I'd done wasn't all that complicated.
I'd just ultra-compressed the smoke and released it in a burst, shoving the ambient mana aside to create a mana vacuum zone.
"Just had a simple idea."
I savored the citrusy, spicy aroma of this unusual cigar as I spoke.
What’s the most essential energy for casting magic? Mana.
So why not erase it? Mana itself?
This space was born from that ridiculously straightforward notion.
"Alright, then."
I finished speaking and looked down at Heros, who was desperately mustering his internal mana to block my invading smoke from his respiratory system.
"Story time's over."
Immortality's principle? Its true nature? I couldn't care less anymore.
No matter what mechanism it used—or even if it was some innate immortality without mana—if I kept killing him, either his mind would break or he'd die for real without mana. One or the other.
"Let's have some quality time together... Nah, saying that to another guy gives me the creeps."
I grimaced at my own words and slowly began manipulating the smoke.
Heros had originally been your run-of-the-mill mage. A red-robed mage.
The product of awakening to mana at age ten and forty-two years of training—just fresh off earning his high mage credentials.
Without some special twist of fate, he'd have lived out his days as an ordinary mage and alchemist, leaving no mark on history. That was the life of the man called Heros.
But then came his awakening—fate's cruel joke or mocking gift, who could say.
Turning a mage into an ability user, an irregular like that, Heros got drunk on his newfound power.
And the ability he awakened to? That was the real problem.
As if it embodied his curiosity perfectly.
It was like giving wings to a tiger.
'Muahaha!'
The first thing Heros did with this power? Modify his own body, of course.
Like a slime from legend—one that would sustain its immortality as long as mana flowed.
To achieve that body, Heros repeatedly modified, experimented on, and dissected himself.
Impressive madness...
How much time passed like that?
An organization came calling while he was deep in his horrific self-experimentation in his hideout.
I don't know their name.
They just promised massive funding and support, claiming to back his work.
'We'll support you. Go wild.'
A blatantly suspicious offer that any normal person would refuse or at least find sketchy.
But Heros didn't care.
He'd long lost any sense of caution. No, normal people wouldn't mutilate their own bodies in the first place.
'Perfect!'
And that was the origin story of Miraz.
"Ah..."
"Oh? You're awake?"
I passed out...?
The moment consciousness returned, Heros assessed his situation.
Smoke-formed chains bound his limbs tight.
What the...?
"You woke up pretty quick this time."
Abel said that, lounging casually on a smoke-made chair at a smoke-made table, puffing his cigar.
Right...
Heros stared blankly at the relaxed figure, his foggy mind—drenched in blood loss—slowly replaying the fight with Abel.
I lost...
No, it wasn't losing.
He'd been utterly crushed, to the point where "fight" didn't even apply.
None of his attacks had landed on Abel, who killed him effortlessly with a flick of his fingers.
An insurmountable gap in power.
"Heh... heh heh. Figures."
Bound tight in smoke chains, Heros laughed bitterly at his predicament.
"So that's why they supported me... to use me as a shield... heh heh."
"Hm? 'They'?"
"...Yeah."
"Who were they?"
"Heh... why should I tell you?"
Abel replied to Heros's question in a nonchalant tone.
"Because if you don't, you'll never leave this place."
"...What?"
"This mana-free zone... Ngh, I suck at naming, so it doesn't have a proper name. But without outside interference, it'll hold for at least a week. With rest or mana recovery, practically indefinitely."
Abel took a sip of his cocktail, savoring it.
But while Abel stayed calm, Heros's eyes began to shake violently.
A whole week in this hellhole? Or maybe forever.
"If you wanna stay here forever, no need to talk."
Abel poured himself another drink from the smoke glass, utterly indifferent.
"..."
If he didn't know about mana, maybe it wouldn't matter.
But as a mage who'd indulged in mana more than anyone, this place was pure hell. Breathing mana-less air felt like inhaling sand-filled gusts.
"...I'll talk."
Heros bowed his head, yielding to the threat, and slowly spilled his story.
His ability, the organization that found him, their support—everything.
"It wasn't really an 'organization' per se. I never learned the name."
Back then, he hadn't cared about details.
He was lost in mania, modifying himself and experimenting on others.
"Hmm..."
"That's... all I know."
Heros hung his head.
I watched Heros with his head bowed.
His pulse and breathing, felt through the smoke, were steady—meaning he'd told the truth.
Cross-verification checks out. It's real.
Five times.
The number of times Heros had passed out and woken, spilling what he knew under my pressure.
Confessions from torture or extreme duress are often unreliable.
That's why cross-verification is key.
If prior statements didn't match the current ones, high chance of lies.
An organization, huh...
Heros's verified tale was intriguing.
Too grand for one lone mage.
Ariel's mentioned accomplice was almost certainly this group.
Problem is, the info's too thin...
Three takeaways.
One: Intel strong enough to track a hidden Heros.
Two: Massive funds, judging by Miraz's production costs.
Three: They already knew about me and were wary, per Heros.
Too many suspects?
How many families had I crushed growing up in the capital's back alleys? Nearly three digits gone by my hand alone.
Hell, I cleaned house so thoroughly that slum security worsened from the power vacuum and fear.
And plenty of those families might still hate me enough to survive and plot.
"Eh, whatever."
No point dwelling.
Time to go.
I dissolved the smoke chair and strolled toward the exit.
"@%!^@!"
I ignored the voice calling me—a guy who'd used people as guinea pigs didn't deserve a reply.
"!!#^@@^!"
Leaving the near-screams behind, I sauntered out of my barrier.
.
.
.
.
Outside the barrier, night had fully fallen past evening.
"Knew it was this one."
"Hm? Breck?"
I turned toward the voice. Breck eyed me with a tired expression.
"Jackpot, huh?"
"Hmm... So, the perp?"
I pointed at the smoke still shrouding the whole building.
"In there."
"Inside?"
"Yeah. Hold on. I'll compress it for transport."
I began condensing the smoke.
Heros's screams echoed through it, but whatever.
"There. Good for moving now?"
"Yeah, that'll do. Mission success."
Nostra family's request.
Investigate Miraz, capture the culprit.
"Honestly, didn't expect live capture."
"Service with a smile."
As Breck said, his original terms didn't require bringing him alive.
Nice bonus if I did, no big deal if not.
"Live one's good for us too. Nice work, Abel. Reward's on the house—don't forget."
"Speaking of, can I cash in one of those three favors right now?"
"Hm? Sure."
I immediately relayed what I'd gotten from interrogating Heros.
"...Hmm. The group backing Heros... And given the timing, probably the undead around the Saintess too."
"Way too coincidental, right?"
"Got it. We'll dig into the organization. Slim leads, so no quick catches."
"Wasn't expecting fast results anyway. Whatever."
I shrugged at Breck, then glanced at Mist, who'd quietly appeared behind me.
"So, how was it? Mist's skills."
I'd asked him to evaluate her before sending her over—she knew.
"...Sigh. Sorry, couldn't gauge her."
"Hmm... For real?"
Ungaugable?
I stared at Breck, who sighed involuntarily.
Nostra capital branch head.
The info boss couldn't size her up?
"Yeah."
Breck glanced at Mist behind me with slightly wary eyes.