Ashes of the Screaming Star
Magic Tower Lord Bertolt de Rasid.
Wooong—!
The elevator we rode descended toward the underground with a silence so complete it was almost unnerving, gliding downward with silky smoothness.
A heavy silence hung in the sealed space.
Bertolt kept his kindly smile fixed forward, yet the faint probing mana he constantly radiated swept over the three of us without rest.
Then, abruptly, his gaze landed on me.
"Come to think of it, I still haven't been introduced to this young man."
"…."
Bertolt turned his head and fixed me with a direct stare.
"To travel alongside such great personages as Lady Kyra and the White Dragon Lord… you hardly seem an ordinary attendant. Might you be the scion of some house?"
His eyes were sharp.
This was no idle curiosity.
No doubt it sprang from wariness toward the anomalous presence who walked about escorted by two Transcendents.
One wrong answer here and his suspicion would harden into certainty.
I swallowed hard and donned the mask I had prepared in advance—the expression of a man who was as dumb and harmless as possible, someone who had simply lucked into tagging along.
"Ah, my introductions are late. My name is Erevan."
I bowed as deeply as I could and continued.
"I have served Lady Kyra since her days at the Academy… her exclusive chief assistant and lifestyle manager."
"Hmm… an assistant?"
"Yes. Both of them are… rather unskilled at everyday living. Meals, schedule management, even the most trivial errands—I handle it all."
I shot a sidelong glance at Kyra and Serapagnia as I added,
"This trip as well—they said they needed a porter, so I was honored to accompany them."
"Hmm…."
Bertolt's eyes narrowed.
He scanned me from head to toe as if running an analysis.
My mana circuits were ordinary; the mana accumulated in my body sat at six circles, nearly seven.
Rather strong and talented for a mere assistant… yet not enough to be a problem.
Nothing about me registered as a genuine threat.
So he really is just an ordinary assistant.
As expected, Bertolt lost interest almost at once and gave a nod.
"I see. It must be hard work looking after the two of them."
"Not at all. It is nothing but an honor."
Ding—!
At that moment the elevator stopped and the doors opened.
Basement Level Three.
The Magic Tower's ordinary research sector.
"This way, please."
Bertolt took the lead into the corridor.
Researchers in white coats bustled past; beyond glass walls, all manner of magical experiments were underway.
Kyra and Serapagnia, as we had arranged beforehand, pretended the experiments fascinated them and listened to Bertolt's explanations.
"This section researches the biological stability of chimeras…."
We walked the length of the corridor.
At last we reached the fork at its end.
To the right lay Laboratory One, the place Bertolt meant to show us.
To the left, a massive iron door barred an access-controlled zone.
That was where the emergency stairwell leading down to Basement Level Five waited.
Now.
I shot Kyra a look.
The instant she caught my signal she stepped squarely into Bertolt's path and pointed at a machine in the lab.
"Oh my, Tower Lord? That mana amplifier over there—its array is rather unique, isn't it? It looks as though ancient script has been mixed in?"
"Ah, that one? Your eye is sharp. That is…."
Just as Bertolt began to launch into an eager explanation, Serapagnia piled on from the opposite side.
"Hey, old man! This lady does not like that thing! The color is tacky!"
"I-I apologize. The color was chosen solely by our chief tower researchers…."
While the two Transcendents drained Bertolt's attention from either flank, I unfurled a veil of presence-erasing stealth magic so thin he could never sense it.
Then I quietly slipped to the rear of the group.
True to expectation, Bertolt was so absorbed in explaining that he never even noticed an attendant falling behind.
…Okay.
I kept my focus razor-sharp to the very last second and melted into the shadows beside the iron door.
Just before Bertolt and the two women vanished around the corner, Kyra, hands clasped behind her back, flashed five open fingers.
Five minutes.
That was the absolute limit of the time she could buy me.
I had to find the evidence and return within five minutes.
I would have preferred we all moved together from the start, but according to what Serapagnia had said after the last fight with an Outer God, for them to wield their power again they needed a new medium—a legitimate pretext to intervene in a new story.
That pretext was proof that an Outer God had already interfered.
It's a shame, nothing more….
I gave a tiny nod. The moment Bertolt left my field of vision I darted to the iron door.
A savage warning was posted on it together with a complex magical lock:
But.
This much is nothing.
I pulled from my coat not a mana-disruption scroll I had prepared… but the original novel's setting itself.
The security code Bertolt used changed every three years.
The code at this point in time was an ancient tongue derived from the true name of the Outer God he served.
I gathered mana at my fingertips and stabbed the seam of the lock.
Scream… Star… Fragment.
An eighteen-letter English sequence.
Click.
With a crisp sound the tightly sealed iron door slid open.
I checked the surroundings, then hurled myself inside.
Creeeak.
The door shut and every sound from outside was cut off completely.
In its place—
—Kiriik… Kyaaaaagh….
Save… me… Save… me….
Bizarre noises rising from the deep darkness filled the stairwell.
Screams.
Not ordinary human screams, but the strangled cries of throats ruined by agony, voices that could barely force themselves out.
Feeling that sound and atmosphere with my entire body, I slowly descended the stairs.
And when I reached Basement Level Five—
"Found it."
The stench of divine power so foul I wanted to rip my own nose off, mixed with the reek of rotting corpses.
And as the finishing touch, grotesque constellations glittering across the ceiling.
Certain.
Traces left by the Screaming Star Fragment lay below.
Silencing my footsteps, I continued down the spiral stairs that vanished into darkness beyond Basement Level Five.
Time remaining: four minutes thirty seconds.
More than enough to uncover the truth.
One minute later.
I had been pushing through darkness so absolute I could no longer tell whether I was descending or ascending—or even whether my feet still touched solid ground—when at last I emerged into a vast open space.
"……."
At the sight that greeted me I clapped a hand over my mouth without thinking.
The place was less a laboratory than a slaughterhouse—no, a painting of hell itself.
In the damp, chill air the copper reek of blood, chemical fumes, and the nauseating stench of divine power vibrated together.
A cavernous hall easily hundreds of square meters across.
Filling it completely were dozens of enormous cylindrical glass culture tanks that rose nearly to the ceiling.
Bubble-bubble.
Green liquid sent up streams of bubbles.
I cautiously approached the nearest tank.
Inside floated a being so twisted its original form was unrecognizable.
It wore a human face, yet spider-like limbs sprouted in multiples, or half a rotting torso had fused with octopus tentacles.
Experimental Subject No. 408 — Injection Rate 15%. Failure.
A red label fixed to the base of the glass caught my eye.
Haa… these lunatics….
It bore no comparison to mere chimera research.
Apparently they had been forcibly injecting Outer God divine power into humans, attempting to manufacture divine puppets.
An injection rate of only 15 percent meant that was all the divine power the body could accept.
Considering that at least 70 percent adaptation is required for a usable doll… tch.
"P-please save us."
I was about to move on when a faint voice reached me from somewhere.
Turning my head, I saw children locked inside iron cages in the corner.
Kidnapped orphans, or gifted mage apprentices.
They clung to one another, trembling in terror.
"Damn it."
My fists clenched.
I wanted to free them that very instant, but there was no time.
If I caused a commotion here Bertolt would notice, and then even the chance to save these children would vanish forever.
Huu… Erevan, you have to endure. Find the evidence first.
I gritted my teeth and forced my gaze away.
I needed decisive proof that would expose this atrocity and let me put Bertolt's head on the block for certain.
I walked toward the most secretly and heavily sealed altar at the center of the laboratory.
There stood a bizarre black-stone monolith, and before it rested a small golden casket.
That is…?
Something familiar tugged at my memory. I carefully approached the casket.
Powerful defensive magic ringed it, yet to someone who possessed knowledge of Outer Gods it was useless.
Shhhk.
I traced the grain of the divine tongue as though untying a knot and opened the lid.
Creeeak.
At the same moment the object inside revealed itself.
"This is…."
A handful of ash rested within.
Yet it was no ordinary ash.
As though someone had crushed the stars of the night sky and burned them, an unpleasant silver light glittered between the black grains.
Looks like I found the real thing.
◈ Remnant left by the Screaming Star Fragment before descent
◈ Irrefutable proof of Outer God contract
The unlucky byproduct an Outer God leaves behind as a medium of power before its descent.
Its presence was clear evidence that Bertolt had already contracted with an Outer God and that the descent ritual stood right on the threshold.
Bingo.
I carefully scooped the ashes into the magical preservation vessel I had brought.
With this I would not even need to explain to Kyra and Serapagnia that the man was an Outer God cultist.
I only had to show it; the two Transcendents would turn the Magic Tower to powder on their own.
Of course, how much they would actually be able to intervene remained uncertain….
Even if they only put out ten percent of their strength I can handle the rest of the cleanup, so it doesn't matter. Now I just have to get out….
Evidence secured, I spun around in a hurry.
Time remaining: one minute thirty seconds.
Plenty.
But then—
Thud.
From the quiet entrance of the laboratory came the sound of footsteps.
"…?"
My heart plummeted.
No way—? I flung myself into the shadows behind the altar.
Holding my breath, I watched the entrance.
Someone was walking out of the darkness.
An old man in a white robe.
The kindly smile was gone; the master of the Magic Tower now radiated cold killing intent.
Bertolt de Rasid.
"…… So a little rat has snuck in."
He murmured in a low voice.
A staff rested in his hand, and dozens of magic circles blazed red behind his back.
Shit, did I get caught?
Cold sweat ran down my spine.
Kyra was supposed to buy me time—yet not even five minutes had passed; only four.
What the hell happened?
Even amid the confusion, Bertolt's gaze locked precisely on the altar where I hid.
"Come out. You claimed to be an ordinary assistant, yet you possess quite the skill."
He slammed his staff against the floor.
Kuuuuung!
The entire laboratory shuddered as a magical barrier sealed the exit.
A rat in a cage.
I swallowed dryly and clenched the ashes inside my coat.
The situation had twisted.
Twisted thoroughly.
Fuuuuuck—do I seriously have to 1v1 an Outer God again while leaving two cheat-key Transcendents behind?