Omens of Civil War (3)
Ivan's office.
Najin sat waiting for Ivan on a luxurious sofa that looked thoroughly out of place in the underground city. Roughly an hour had passed when Ivan opened the door and stepped inside.
"Ha. This is one funny bastard."
Whatever had put him in such a good mood, Ivan came in chuckling as he wiped the blood from his face and forearms with a damp towel. It wasn't his own blood—it was spatter. Najin eyed the towel as it darkened to a deep red.
"Is it finished?"
"Yeah. Opened right up. Looks like you broke his spirit properly. I only pulled a couple and he spilled everything."
Ivan tossed something into the air and caught it again and again. Looking closer, Najin saw it was a human tooth. Guessing whose it had been was not difficult.
"Anyway, you little prodigy. Where the hell did you dig up a guy like that? Perfect. I've been irritated as hell lately with how half-assed the underlings have been working..."
I like him a lot.
Muttering as much, Ivan dropped into his chair.
"So. Was it a fight worth having? First time going up against someone who can use mana, wasn't it?"
"Not the first. How many times have I sparred with you, Ivan?"
"That's training, you idiot."
Beating someone half to death is training?
While Najin quietly reconsidered the definition of the word, Ivan asked again.
"Injuries?"
"My arm's sore from dragging him around, but nothing else."
"Huh. A kid who can't even use mana captures and works over a mana user without a scratch? You're something else."
Even as he muttered it, Ivan did not look particularly surprised—more as if he had expected something like this all along. Watching that expression, Najin thought it over.
Of course. Why had he gone after an officer without hesitation in the first place?
"How far am I allowed to pick a fight?"
"Hell if I know. You're not quite at the level where you can go toe-to-toe with me or that Trap-spider bastard yet..."
Ivan had said it once before.
"Aside from Horce, you can take a swing at anyone."
"They've got a few officers strutting around like they own the place, but one-on-one you'd probably win."
"Assuming you don't fight them on their own turf."
Trap-spider Horce. Aside from the head of the rival organization, Ivan had said every one of them was fair game in a one-on-one. Najin had simply trusted those words. Ivan's judgment had always been exact.
"Ivan."
Still, there was something he wanted to know.
"What exactly is mana?"
"What do you think? It's fucking great."
Ivan answered as if the question itself were ridiculous. That was, of course, not the answer Najin wanted, so he simply stared. Ivan shrugged and continued.
"Being able to handle mana is proof that a warrior has taken the first real step. Whether you're reinforcing your body, drawing out sword aura, or unfolding techniques—mana is the foundation under all of it."
Mana: the energy that accumulated inside the body.
"The more mana you store, the more your body is tempered and the higher your limits climb. It means you can start pulling off every kind of absurd feat a human body shouldn't be able to do."
Like this, for example.
Ivan spread his hand wide. Frix's teeth—extracted during the interrogation—rolled across his palm.
"Watch carefully."
With the teeth resting on his palm, Ivan lightly closed his fist. When he opened it again, they had crumbled to powder.
"Of course, learning mana doesn't automatically make you like me. What matters is which cultivation method you used to build it. Grab any random method and start stacking mana and you're more likely than not to wreck yourself. You might get strong for a while, but the ceiling will be clear as day."
"So to reach the level of Sword Expert, a mana cultivation method is essential?"
"That's right. You have to know how to handle mana before you can draw out sword aura or anything else. Why? Want to learn?"
"It would be nice if I could."
Ivan snorted a short laugh.
"I'll teach you later."
"I've been hearing that for five years now."
"Later, brat."
A signal that the topic ended there. Najin did not press further. Dragging it on would only sour Ivan's mood. Without crossing the line Ivan had drawn, Najin took a step back.
"Then let's get to the real point."
Ivan opened the subject himself.
"Civil war is coming soon. Get ready, Najin."
2.
Trap-spider Horce was preparing for civil war.
That officer of his said so.
He hadn't received direct orders from Horce himself lately, but directives from above kept coming down. The content of those directives: prepare for war. Stockpile supplies.
The way they had been throwing around talk of tribute at old man Hogel's smithy had probably been groundwork for seizing weapons. Infiltrating my organization was likely the same idea.
Anyway, what a goddamn circus.
I thought they were pushing the line, but I didn't expect them to commit outright. Whatever guts they're drawing on, they mean to pick a real fight with me.
Which means they have something they trust.
Horce isn't the kind of madman who starts a war without looking both ways. I still don't know what he's banking on, but...
Haa. Here's the thing.
Civil war is a real pain in the ass, you know?
Watching people drop dead over a scrap of worthless ground in this worthless city just makes me sigh. You think I didn't finish Horce off completely last time we went to war for fun?
Past a certain point, all you see is loss.
People die, productivity tanks, the streets turn foul and heavy. Whether you're getting laid in a brothel or drinking yourself stupid in a tavern, the mood is pure garbage. Looking at that mess, you lose any taste for fighting at all.
That was a long way of saying it.
The point is this.
I have no intention of letting this civil war drag on. I plan to end it fast and clean it up fast.
So.
We're striking first.
I'll fill you in on the details tomorrow. I need to talk things over with Oppen tonight.
Anyway, stay ready.
I can't promise how this is going to go.
"...Mm."
Turning over the story Ivan had told him, Najin walked the streets. Ivan had said it: prepare for civil war.
Civil war.
Najin did not know much about civil war. The last one between Horce and Ivan had broken out when Najin was still very small. All he could do was guess from the way adults blanched whenever the word came up.
"Stay ready."
"I can't promise how this is going to go."
Najin kept turning Ivan's final words over in his mind. For a man who always spoke with certainty to say something like that, the situation had to be serious.
"He says to prepare, but..."
Najin tilted his head. He had no idea what, exactly, he was supposed to prepare. For the moment he sketched a map of the underground city in his head.
The underground city of Atman was broadly divided into three territories.
The Central District, under Ivan's control, with a direct trade window to the surface. The golden land where the major facilities clustered around that window.
Next, the Mining District.
An outer region some distance from the center, under Horce's control, thick with the quarries that extracted the underground city's ore.
Mining District, Mining District, Mining District...
From what he had heard, it was a labyrinth. Horce's residence connected to the dig sites, and the place was supposedly packed with traps of every kind. Ivan had explained that it was the perfect stage for a former surface Ranger like Horce to put his skills on full display.
"Horce is a Ranger."
"In stealth, dirty tricks, traps, and ambushes, Rangers outclass knights."
"They lose in a straight one-on-one against a knight, but on their own ground they can eat several knights alive."
"Never fight him on his turf."
"Even I wouldn't be confident of a win without Oppen."
Najin tried to picture storming the place. Dig sites tangled like a maze. Experts who could appear from anywhere, and the traps Horce would have laid.
"Tch."
Not easy. If he charged in the way he might on Ivan's territory, he would have to be ready for several new holes in his body. After sketching strategies in his head for a while, Najin finally let out a long breath.
Thinking ahead was getting him nowhere. He would need to see it with his own eyes and feel it with his own body at least once before he would know what to do. Settling that thought, Najin suddenly recalled the underground city's third territory.
Central District. Mining District.
And last, the Landfill District.
Further down, following the rough cliffs, you reached the Landfill. The place where trash already discarded from above was sorted once more and piled for the final time. Where garbage, filth, and corpses were buried.
That was the domain of Druggy Hakan.
Najin did not know much about the place. He was not alone in that. Even Ivan seemed to know little about Druggy Hakan or the Landfill.
"Druggy Hakan. I don't know much about that one either."
"Supposedly they were here before I fell into this city, and before Horce fell into it too."
"Hell, I don't even know if it's a man or a woman."
"All I know is they've been down there a very long time making and selling drugs. I've never even seen their face."
Strong enough to rule a territory.
And an alchemist who made drugs.
That was the sum of what was known about Druggy Hakan.
Information I don't need for this civil war, though.
Najin sorted his thoughts. He had no idea how the civil war would unfold, but he would know tomorrow. Ivan had said so.
Tap.
On his way home, Najin stopped walking. He had halted at the outer edge of the plaza. From a distance he looked at the sword planted at its center, still hidden beneath its canopy of canvas.
"Draw the sword."
"You can draw the sword."
The sentences that still circled in his mind refused to fade. Najin stared a long while at the veiled blade before leaving the plaza behind.
3.
Tap.
The soft sound of a cup being set down echoed through the old tavern. Only Ivan and Oppen sat inside, nursing their drinks.
"So."
It was Oppen who broke the silence.
"So you're going to start a civil war?"
"I am."
"And you're striking first?"
"That's the only way it ends fast."
"And you want my help?"
At Oppen's question, Ivan drained his cup without a word. His silence was answer enough. Oppen frowned and raked a hand through his hair.
"I'm not thrilled about it."
"Just this once."
"I think I heard that a few years back too."
"Help me one time. I don't have the confidence to handle this quietly on my own."
Ivan tipped his cup again.
Storming in alone and wrecking the place? He could do that if he wanted. But that was far from his goal. What Ivan wanted was a fast, clean resolution—not the opening salvo of a drawn-out civil war.
"...Irritating."
"Horce is the one stirring this up. Whatever it is, something's there. Better to cut it out quick."
"Tch."
Oppen clicked his tongue.
"This is the last time. Ask me again and I'll split my own skull with a cup. Remember that."
"Thanks."
"That's that. Now, about you."
Filling his empty cup, Oppen tossed the next words out lightly.
"How long are you planning to leave Najin like that?"
"......"
"You planning to never teach him a mana cultivation method or anything? You know as well as I do. That kid was ready to learn a long time ago."
"I know."
"Then why aren't you teaching him?"
"Because it's too soon."
Ivan let out a long breath. Leaning back against the chair, he spoke from the heart. They had known each other since the surface, and with Oppen he always laid everything bare.
"That Najin. He learns everything too damn fast. The longer it goes on, the more it scares me. I can't get a read on how far he can go."
"Jealous?"
"Jealous, my ass. You know better."
Ivan grinned crooked.
"In this godforsaken city, what good does talent like that do? Who the hell knows how it ends?"
"......"
"Say I taught him mana early. Fine. In a few years he'd be drawing sword aura left and right. The empire's youngest Sword Expert record sits at twenty-three. He might smash that too."
He's that kind of kid. Najin is.
"But. But here's the thing."
Ivan knocked back the harsh liquor. He exhaled hard and went on.
"In this trash heap of a city, what does that get him?"
A place where the discarded piled up. A mire where the filthy and the ugly gathered. A landfill where garbage rose into mountains.
"The day the empire's youngest Expert comes out of a hole like this and word reaches the surface, what do you think happens?"
They would clean him up.
They would look at the origin of the talent before they looked at its brilliance. And the end of anyone who fell out of their favor needed no description.
"Heresy. Black magic. Worshiper of a false star. Apostate. Accursed spawn of Kamran. They'd pin charges like that on him and execute him. Or make sure he never picks up a sword again. We've seen it more than once—how the surface handles these things."
Ivan had been a knight.
Oppen had climbed high in a mercenary company.
Both men knew far too well how surface society turned. They had seen and lived through the way the high-and-mighty settled their business, and what became of anyone who crossed them.
"It's fucked."
"Yeah. It's fucked. And if they execute him, do you think they stop at Najin? You and I lose our heads too."
Chuckling, Ivan rolled a cigarette between his fingers. He lit it and exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"You live with what you're given. Reach past the line for something you can't touch and all you get is misery."
"So you're going to leave him as he is?"
"This much is enough. Any more distinction and word will reach the surface."
"Well... I'm not saying I don't understand you, but."
Oppen swirled his cup as he spoke.
"That kid already knows how to handle mana."
"......"
Ivan's hand froze mid-tilt of the cup.
"What?"
"He can handle mana. Him."
"You taught him?"
"No. Never taught him a thing."
"Then how?"
Oppen shrugged.
"Hell if I know. Doesn't even look like he has any mana stored in his body, but he uses it. There are moments when he moves fast. Every time, mana flows through him."
"...Does that make any sense?"
"That's why I said I don't know. Najin doesn't seem aware of it either."
There was no mana to be felt from Najin. He had never learned a cultivation method and had never accumulated mana in his body. That much was certain. And yet a kid who had never stacked mana was reinforcing his body by circulating it?
Does that make any sense at all?
Ivan frowned.
That would mean... that would be just like...
It defied common sense, but Ivan knew of one historical figure who had made the impossible look ordinary.
"Looks like you thought of the same thing I did."
Oppen grinned. Swirling his cup, he laughed. Something that made no sense by ordinary rules. A being who did it without blinking, who denied the foundation of every existing mana cultivation method. In the history of mankind, only one such person had ever lived.
The constellation, the Sword of Selection.
Arthur, the great hero who led the age of man centuries ago.
The great hero whose very existence stood outside common sense had a life full of impossible stories. Among them, the one most often pointed out was the special quality of Arthur that appeared in the opening of the epic.
"Arthur moved with the aid of mana without ever accumulating it, and even drew out sword aura."
Oppen murmured it with a crooked smile. That was the content of the opening of Arthur's epic—a sentence that ignored the common knowledge of the world and the foundations of cultivation methods.
Mana is not something you accumulate.
It is something you tame as it flows through the world.
Those two sentences were all the explanation ever given for how such a thing was possible. The tale was so fantastical that the empire's official histories treated it as apocrypha, but...
Countless fairy-tale books still carried the story.
Ivan and Oppen had thought of the same thing. The book Najin always carried with him—surely that story was written in it as well.
"...So."
Ivan let out a hollow laugh as he spoke.
"You're saying Najin is awakening to mana the same way as King Arthur, that constellation of the night sky? That's the most ridiculous—"
"Who knows. I only said it because there's no other way to explain it."
Ivan fell silent.
Whether, as Oppen said, Najin was awakening to mana the way King Arthur had, or whether he was handling it by some bizarre method no one else knew... either way, the meaning was the same.
Najin was even more exceptional than Ivan had expected. Delaying the teaching, trying to hide him—it was useless.
"No matter how much you hide him or try to slow him down, it won't matter. Before long he'll be drawing sword aura too. He's already produced the first shards of it. Half a year at the latest."
"......"
"Once that happens, word will reach the surface for sure. And then everything you talked about will come down on him."
They would try to kill Najin.
They would try to clean up everyone connected to him. And Oppen and Ivan would be the first ones cleaned up.
"So choose."
Oppen set his cup down.
The soft tap rang long through the tavern.
"Kill him now."
Now, before he stood out.
Now, while he could still be killed—settle Najin.
"Or teach him."
Or else place a bet on him.
If he could pass Sword Expert and reach the realm beyond it, even the surface would not be able to clean him up. They could not afford to cast out a powerhouse of that level.
In short, it was a gamble.
Faced with those two choices, Ivan drank in silence.