Mage Franc (4)

She had been so sure it was finally over.

No more high-ranking demons would come bursting out of the dark. She would walk out of this nightmare with the wounded Laeli and the others waiting beyond the trees, and she had even let herself picture what came after — sitting down together, talking through how to give Argal back the years he had burned away.

She was wrong.

Atop the nightmare, atop the despair, death was waiting.

Shhk—

A massive black dagger punched straight through Argal's heart.

The situation was so impossible that Franc's mind simply stopped, as if some vital gear inside her skull had sheared clean off.

"Ah…?"

Reality, however, was in no hurry to be kind. No matter how many times she looked, Argal had been run through. The way his body crumpled and rolled across the ground left no room for hope — this was past fatal. The raw, iron stink of blood crept into her nose, and with it her frozen thoughts began, slowly, to turn again.

A hand pale as paper lay flung toward her. Blood from the wound in his chest was already painting the grass a deep, wet red. He did not move. He did not breathe.

He was dead.

Something hideous tore through her, as if her whole body were being carved apart. Was it grief? Rage? The particular hollowness of losing someone you could not afford to lose?

"No — no, no, no!!"

Franc screamed. Every shade of sorrow and despair she had ever known came lashing through her skull at once, and the tears spilling from both eyes would not stop. He was dead. He had shoved her aside with the last of his strength, determined to protect her to the very end, and then he had died for it. That was what made it unbearable.

She reached for him. Her hands closed on nothing. Argal lay crumpled at the demon's feet.

The demon delivered the words the way a clerk might stamp a form — a job completed, nothing more. It had meant to kill Franc in the same stroke, while she was still wrapped around Argal. It had failed. It did not appear to mind. A little extra effort, and she would die just the same.

"Per my orders," it said, "I will dispose of one more target."

"Nngh—!"

A mage's reason rose up and swallowed the feelings tearing her brain apart. This was, in the end, a matter of survival — and Franc could not accept her own death. Not because she was afraid to die. Because dying would render his sacrifice meaningless.

"I can't just… stand here."

She clenched the Origin of the Star until her knuckles went white. Argal had seized control of her body once; the memory of it was gone, but the sensation remained, vivid as a brand. If she could use that sensation — if she could follow it — she could win. She could kill this hated thing.

"I will kill you. I swear it."

"You?" The assassin's voice dripped mockery. "A thing like you, kill me? You who cannot even reach that one's toes?"

It was a fair point. She was a mage who had reached the extreme of her craft — and yet, for reasons she still did not understand, her body held not a drop of mana. She knew perfectly well she could not be compared to Argal.

She had to do it anyway. She had to kill this demon, or everything he had given would dissolve into nothing.

She set both hands on the necklace and steeled herself.

The instant her mana began to swell, the assassin decided she would not be granted the time. It crossed the distance in a blur and appeared directly in front of her.

"Did you think I would give you the chance?"

Franc seized the explosive mana boiling up inside her and spent it at once. Her skull felt as if it would not merely burn but melt. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠She endured it anyway. That pain was nothing beside the black, ashen ruin of her heart. There was no reason she could not bear it.

Faster than any accelerated calculation she had ever performed — faster still — she unfolded her magic. In the space of a single blink, dozens of magic circles bloomed around her.

"Shield!"

Shrrrrrk—!

The sound of so many barriers stacking on top of one another was loud enough to ring through the trees. Ten layers. Twenty. Thirty. Inexhaustible amplified mana married to a talent that could fairly be called genius, and the result was magic of almost stupid, overwhelming density. It was more than enough to turn the assassin's strike.

KRSHKK—!

"Meaningless."

Once or twice, perhaps. For a mage to be granted the absolute safety her craft demanded, she would need far more mana than this.

"Nngh—!"

It hurt. Double. Quadruple. Eightfold. Sixteenfold. The mana swelling in squares tore through her as if it meant to split her body along every seam, because she had never once adapted to a reserve this vast.

Then how did he endure it?

Argal had done this with an ordinary body that held no mana of its own — forced that ocean of power into himself and then, as if it were nothing at all, turned around and helped everyone else.

"Argal…"

She called his name like a prayer. He had been in worse shape than she was, and he had still told her to live. His body had already been wrecked by physical enhancement, and he had still saved her. This was not devotion. Who in the world made a sacrifice like that?

The more clearly his sacrifice settled into her, the more viciously her own heart turned on her.

"…I won't let you die."

So she hung herself on a hope she knew was hollow. Yes. She would bring him back. Even if the boy lying in the grass looked like nothing but a corpse, Franc would find a way. She would reach Transcendence. She would borrow a god's power. She would sell her soul to a devil if that was what it took.

"Who," the demon asked, "are you talking to?"

CRASH! CRASH! KRSHKK!

Every time the assassin hammered the shields, the stacked barriers came apart in seconds. A high-ranking demon's strength was still dense, still terrible. Unless she stood at Elder-rank, matching it was nearly impossible — and even an Elder needed guaranteed safety before they could prepare a spell capable of killing such a creature outright.

A spell that could secure that safety. A spell that could guarantee it at this murderous range. She had torn through countless grimoires in her life, and only one answer surfaced. The barrier wrapped around this entire ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forest was the proof.

"Dimensional Barrier."

Blood ran from her nose in thick, steady drops. She poured every last measure of her amplified mana into the working. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠An impenetrable barrier. She had already seen the black-magic version of it; all she had to do was follow the method and the structure.

WHIIIIING—

Intricate formulae unfurled from her center. A barrier that split one dimension from another exacted a monstrous toll, but she could not collapse. No. She would not collapse.

"Nnnnngh—!"

Resolve or not, the barrier refused to come easily. This was a grade of power no ordinary mage could touch, and in the end it was her own insufficient realm that caught her by the ankle. The shields were crumbling under the assassin's assault. She found herself wondering whether it would be smarter to abandon the greed and simply throw up more shields.

If she did that, she could not win. She had to get completely clear of the high-ranking demon's reach before she could spend her strength on killing it.

Then she would break the limit. Even for a moment. If she borrowed the potential sleeping inside her, that would be enough.

Her head felt as if it would not merely melt but split apart. She accepted the pain and forced the barrier shut anyway.

Hummmm—

What formed was a tiny pocket of space, just large enough to cover her and nothing else. She had torn open a realm she had no right to reach and dragged it down by force. It was a simple thing. She knew, all the same, how beautiful and how noble it was — and Franc felt her confidence come flooding back.

"And what," the demon said, "is that supposed to be?"

Even it seemed to sense something wrong. It studied the film wrapped around her with care. There was only a single translucent membrane. The demon swung its dagger as if swatting a fly.

THOOM!

The blade bounced off.

"What?"

"…Now," Franc said, and a dark smile touched her mouth, "it's my turn to attack."

Her heart was still being torn to pieces. But she could strike back at the creature that had killed Argal, and that was enough to let her smile, if only for a breath.

"So die right there."

The necklace doubled her mana again. The barrier, answering her will, sealed the space around her — then opened a narrow seam and let the light pouring from her hands pass through.

It took the demon like a shot.

The fingers of my fallen body twitched.

I wasn't dead.

Not yet.

The reason a wound like this hadn't killed me was simple. A contract hung in the blur of my vision. I read, slowly, the terms I had struck with the Demon of Silence.

There had been almost nothing left worth offering. I had already spent a life once. A newly made life could only be wagered after I died and came back; I could not stake a life the demons already held in pawn. So I had paid with the black-magic relics I had looted from Gaudium's warehouse. It was enough to put death off for a little while.

And why put it off?

To think. About a contract with the Great Demon.

The terms of that contract were a temptation fatal in its own right. Before the regression, the Great Demon had promised me three powers.

Power an unstable Immortal needed more than anything. A force so complete that only that one demon had ever offered it. I had not been able to refuse the contract.

What the Great Demon demanded in return was that I kill the people I loved.

That was why I had never revealed that I was Immortal. If the Demon King learned the truth and moved to seal me, I would have no choice but to take the Great Demon's bargain. Without it, I would never escape a seal — and I would have to kill my family all over again. A choice I simply could not make. I was still hesitating. Still turning it over.

I was doing the same thing now. It was a hideous weighing of scales. Contract with the Great Demon, save Franc, and then repeat that slaughter for the rest of my existence? Or choose safety, and let Franc die?

…So I believed in Franc.

I deferred my death and watched her potential unfold, hoping that with the Origin of the Star she would put the demon down. Feeling the blood drip, drip from every part of me, I slowly drew closer to death.

"Did you think," the demon said, "that I came here bare-skinned?"

Armor surfaced over its body. Unlike the black mage from before, the assassin had arrived in black plate.

"I figured as much! If you've got armor, I'll just punch through it!"

Franc's spirit did not so much as flicker. A heavier magical barrage screamed toward the demon.

KABOOOM!

"Ghk—!"

A mage who has secured perfect safety is the most dangerous thing on any battlefield. Trusting nothing but her barrier, Franc carpet-bombed the creature without pause.

KABOOOOOM!

"Damn it—!"

Armor or not, nothing living was meant to stand under a bombardment like that. The assassin tried to vanish the way assassins do. Franc found the traces anyway, with something like a ghost's instinct, and dropped the next volley on exactly that spot.

"Where do you think you're running?"

Hatred for the demon had risen in her until there was no room left ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠for anything else. She would not let it go. She could not. The only thought left in her was this: kill the demon, and bring Argal back.

"Ghhhkk—!"

It survived the barrage, but it looked wretched. A few more spells and it would be finished. The demon, however, had already found her weakness with ugly precision. By chance it had noticed a single patch of ground where her magic never fell.

Even a Franc sealed inside a barrier, safety guaranteed, could not promise that Argal's body would remain intact.

The demon seized him and made its threat.

"If you do not let me go, I will carve this one's body to pieces."

"Don't—!"

By everything Franc knew, the dead could only be raised if the body was whole. Touching Argal was unthinkable. She had no choice but to halt the assault.

The demon dragged Argal with it and began to ease backward, buying the distance it needed to run.

"I will have to report today's events to Him. An absurd variable has—"

And then a killing intent so thick it stole the air locked the demon's body in place.

"You think you'll make it?"

"When did you get behind—!"

Something had appeared at the demon's back. What it saw, in that last instant, was a woman — and the idle snap of her fingers.

Snap.

A wet, violent burst.

That was all it took. The demon's body came apart in pieces.