A Gift of Flame
Magic. The manifestation of will. Humans used magic to strengthen their bodies, cast spells, or offer it to the gods to receive divine Authority. A knight's sword aura, a mage's mana, and a priest's holy magic all found their roots in magic.
But humans were not the only ones who could wield magic. Though they lacked a structured system, beasts and monsters also used magic instinctively. The same was true for inanimate things. Magic dwelled within plants and non-living objects alike. Driven by a primal desire, they sought to maintain their original forms.
Thus, when one tried to split something, grind it down, melt it, or burn it, the mana within all things resisted. It rejected change, pushing back to preserve its current state. Only a greater force of magic could pierce through this resistance. This was why different materials had different ignition points.
A withered branch, possessing low resistance to fire magic, could be burned by a mundane flame containing almost no magic. But steel, with its high resistance to fire magic, could only be melted by flames conjured by an exceptional pyromancer.
That self-evident law was the shackle that weighed Merlin down. Merlin's aptitude for fire magic was disastrous. Even a simpleton incapable of controlling mana would possess at least a shred of talent, yet his converged to absolute zero. Even a natural spark struck from flint and steel carried some trace of magic, but his magic could never be infused into fire. It was as if the flames rejected him, blocked by some unseen hand.
It was an anomaly unprecedented even on the Continent. Naturally, his family had poured vast resources into altering his constitution, but every attempt failed. All that those countless mountains of gold left behind was a tiny ember dancing on his fingertip—a feeble spark incapable of burning any material on the Continent. That was the limit of a talentless old man.
Whoosh! Yet at this very moment, the flames conjured by the old man were consuming the entire body of the Iron Mask.
"Merlin, please use illusion magic. We need to trap it inside the room," Seraphina whispered, nudging Merlin's back. Even in the midst of this chaotic situation, the girl calmly sought the best course of action. Her sunken eyes urged him on.
Merlin waved his hand reflexively. He formed a magic circle with blue mana, painting reality with illusion. The Iron Mask was rolling on the floor, its entire body ablaze. He erected a virtual wall in the space near it, deceiving its glowing eyes. He made the hallway leading to the exit look like a solid, blocked wall, while making the open door of the private room appear to be the way out.
As the illusion overlaid reality, Seraphina moved. Bang! Consuming the last of the Thunder Staff's remaining catalyst, she unleashed thunder at the Iron Mask. Once again, the thunder failed to pierce the Iron Mask. However, it was enough to instill a sense of crisis. It stimulated the melting skin of the Iron Mask's head, which was dripping black liquid, urging it to flee.
"Aaargh! Ugh! Screeech!" With a muffled groan, the Iron Mask struggled to its feet. In its agonizing, burning state, it lacked the sanity to distinguish illusion from reality. It threw itself toward the private room that appeared to be the exit.
Click.Seraphina, who had been waiting for this moment, did not miss her chance. She slammed the door of the private room shut, trapping the Iron Mask inside. To prevent the handle from turning, she wedged the Thunder Staff underneath it.
"...Whew. We can catch our breath now." Only then did Seraphina let out a sigh of relief. The private rooms in this underground facility all had thick doors and walls. Though she didn't know what purpose the facility had been built for, each room was perfectly sealed. Now that the Iron Mask was trapped inside, the fire wouldn't spread, and the smoke wouldn't escape.
"We just need to clean up the hallway a bit, right?" Seraphina asked with a small smile.
"Ah..." Despite the girl's question, Merlin did not answer. Only a low groan that failed to form words lingered like background noise. The old man could no longer hear her voice; his mind was entirely captivated by the sight before him.
"Ah...!" Merlin stood as if rooted to the spot in front of the door. A steel door. Through the thick reinforced glass in its center, he watched the glowing Iron Mask through a small gap. That shining thing. That burning thing. He stared at it, flickering so brightly and beautifully.
A real flame, not a mere ember barely lighting his fingertip. The flower of fire that the old man had conjured for the first time after decades of despair. Merlin's heart beat more furiously than ever before. Forgetting his age, he witnessed it with childlike innocence and awe. Before he knew it, ecstasy surged in his chest, flowing through his veins and warming his entire body.
The old man smiled as he looked at the burning monster. At first, it was a small, incredulous chuckle. But it grew louder and louder, until it seemed to squeeze every last breath from his lungs.
"Ah, ahaha, hehehe... Hahahaha!" He laughed. No smile he had ever worn in his life was as liberating as this moment. The dark, deeply rooted mental demon that had plagued him burned away in a brilliant flash. Even the thrashing of the agonizing Iron Mask looked like a beautiful dance to Merlin. It was a ritual casting away years of shame and humiliation, a performance satisfying his twisted desire for recognition, a celebratory dance welcoming a new birth.
"Bwahahaha! Hahaha!" The old man roared with wild laughter, his face contorted. One side of his face held the memories of his past suffering, while the other held the triumph of his present achievement, his muscles twitching in contrasting expressions. Until the thrashing Iron Mask finally collapsed in exhaustion and the flames consumed even its corpse, the old mage watched, laughing. In the place where the Iron Mask had burned, only a single fragment of stone emitting a sinister light remained.
"Bwahahaha! Hahaha!" The old man clung to the door of the private room, laughing like a madman. Seraphina also wore a small smile as she watched him. Naturally, she clasped her hands together and prayed to her Evil God.
O God. Your will has been done. After a brief prayer, the girl turned away. She did not wish to disturb Merlin's ecstasy. The moment a lifelong dream was realized—for Seraphina, it would be the moment her vengeance was finally achieved. She wanted him to fully savor that thrilling moment, undisturbed by anyone else. Any intrusion would only ruin it.
The girl thought as she quietly stepped away. There was plenty to do besides watching the old man. As she swept up the stray embers scattered on the floor, her long-deferred thoughts began to resurface.
...Ah, right. Come to think of it, I had so many doubts when I first brought Merlin here. She recalled the question she had asked herself just a few hours ago. Bringing Merlin, whom she had barely met, to this other world. Despite her easy success, she had questioned herself inwardly: Is it right to sacrifice another person at the feet of the Evil God for the sake of my vengeance? Yes, I did.
She had agonized over whether it was the right choice, torn between morality and her desire for revenge. Pfft. Looking back, what a foolish question that was.Seraphina let out a silent chuckle. At the time, it had certainly felt like a heavy question—heavy enough that she couldn't make a firm decision right away. So, she had chosen to postpone it, telling herself it wasn't the time to debate right and wrong, covering the cracks in her conscience with a temporary answer. If she had failed to find a proper answer... she would have felt a lingering sense of guilt every time she gathered believers in the future. She would have tortured herself with nightmares.
But now, things were different. She knew the answer. Or rather, she had come to realize it. Since everything is part of the Evil God's plan anyway. The girl willingly attributed all responsibility and achievements to her god. The circumstances left her no choice. Merlin, who had been dragged here so suddenly—look at how joyfully he was laughing now. Look at how sincerely moved he was. If all of this were not part of the Evil God's grand foresight, how else could one explain that laughter?
Seraphina felt a natural awe toward that lofty gaze. She realized that her own judgment of what was "right" was short-sighted. It wasn't true good or evil; it was merely a mechanically instilled sense of pity. True good and evil could only be chosen at the very end, after experiencing every possible outcome. Only an omniscient god could truly distinguish between the two.
The girl had gained another realization today. And she took it one step further. Wait. If that's the case... Perhaps the Evil God she served was only perceived as "evil" through her own shallow experience. Could he actually be a benevolent god—
...Hmph! No, that's definitely not it. Yes, that was definitely not the case. There's no way a benevolent god would make a barely adult girl touch a dead monster's backside. An evil god was an evil god. Expecting blind goodwill from him would only lead to disaster. Get a grip and go look around over there. The girl lightly patted her cheeks and stepped into the private room—the lived-in room where she had searched for the transparent glass bottle under the Evil God's gaze.