Masquerade (4)
Red waves came pouring from gaping mouths, slithering across the floor.
“What are these snakes?!”
“Kyaaaaagh!”
“G-get away from me!”
Wriggling and twisting, they burrowed between people's legs — sometimes coiling up a body to climb it, sometimes simply biting down.
“Gwaaagh!”
“Get off, I said get off…!”
For some reason, they seemed to be singling out men's groins with almost obsessive dedication. …Or was that just my imagination? Well, I had told them to pace themselves, so I was sure they'd regulate things accordingly.
“Ooh-hoh… oohohoh…….”
Zakina cupped her own cheeks in both hands, an expression of pure rapture spreading across her face as she gazed out over the feverish party hall.
'Wow. Seeing her like that, she really does look like some kind of supervillain.'
I should never become like that.
“What in the world….”
“Where are the soldiers?!”
“Most of them've been 'paralyzed' by snakebites, I'm told—”
“Damn it, what the hell are those Sicario bastards even doing?!”
Bolted already, most likely. As I watched the flustered reptile masks scrambling about, the crocodile mask at their head beckoned to me.
“Lady Fox, this way, quickly.”
“For now, get yourself out of this hall — then we can think.”
“Move, hurry!”
And so I followed the reptile masks out of the party hall. The corridors, the walls, even the ceiling — everything was already crawling with red 'beasts.'
Here and there, I spotted individuals carrying 'things' clamped in their mouths.
'Still setting up, apparently.'
Those secret spots, or whatever they were. If a place was clandestine enough, it wouldn't be strange for 'goods' like those to be stashed away inside.
Not that the reptile masks, too busy clawing their way out of the mansion, seemed to notice any of it.
“The door's blocked!”
“Damn it, here too?!”
The red beasts had piled up in dense layers, plugging the entrance solid. Of course they had to be red — watching them squirm like that felt like staring at a heap of entrails. Gross.
“רוח מייללת!”
One of the reptile masks hurled an attack spell straight at the door.
The wind tore through the beasts and carved out a path.
It lasted only a moment. Other beasts came swarming in to fill the gap almost instantly.
“To the basement!”
“There's a passage down that way!”
Well, of course there was. A secret passage or two, kept ready for moments exactly like this.
'Which is part of why I followed them in the first place, really.'
Deeper. Down into deeper, deeper places.
They passed through one room after another until they arrived at a dead end.
“Wait a moment. I'll have it open shortly.”
A blank gray wall. The leading crocodile mask pressed a hand against it, and a mana circuit whirred to life. The spell glowed a pale green as the gray wall shuddered.
Ah.
“Lady Fox…?”
I strolled over at an unhurried pace and came to a stop before the wall. Then I raised my arm and pressed my palm flat against it.
Crack—
Like a windowpane shattering, the glowing green spell scattered into powder.
“What did you just—!”
“I say, what is the meaning of this?!”
I turned around, directing my gaze at the reptile masks.
“The meaning? Isn't it obvious.”
Why were they asking something so self-evident?
“It means you're not going anywhere.”
At my words, the reptile masks traded glances among themselves. Then they raised their voices, loud and indignant.
“Legally speaking, we've done nothing wrong!”
“That's right — we merely came to enjoy a party.”
“Is there any proof that human trafficking took place here?”
My head tilted gently to one side.
“And what exactly are you on about?”
I made a smile. Ah — right, the mask. Pointless, then. Either way.
“You're all drug offenders, aren't you?”
If there's no reason to arrest someone, you simply make one. That's all it takes.
'Absurd.'
A guest or two might well attend a party with drugs on their person. That much, they could have handled with ease.
'Unless, of course, a mountain of narcotics turned up inside the mansion itself.'
Getting drugs into the Magic City was an ordeal to begin with. And even supposing someone had painstakingly smuggled in a large quantity — why on earth would they store it in the mansion of a count they had no connection to?
In the end, the Countess of Lowell was nothing but a child.
'And here I'd thought her at least somewhat shrewd.'
The Count clicked his tongue. Tsking alone would change nothing.
“Scorching Flames.”
“Ice Awls.”
The two guard mages deployed their spells in flat, toneless voices. Countless fireballs and ice spikes suspended in the air came pouring down upon the 'fox.'
'She was the second seat, was it?'
Nothing more than an academy student, at the end of the day. If they believed she could hold them off, they were gravely mistaken.
Numerical disadvantage. A gap in experience. Did they truly think a single talent could overturn all of that?
“Foolish.”
“What now, I wonder? The passage is sealed.”
Certainly, that 'red snake' was beyond what the guards here present could hope to handle.
'Those Sicario bastards….'
Crack.
The Count ground his teeth, thinking of the men who had betrayed him at precisely the moment they were needed most — as if the timing had been deliberate all along.
“This room itself is a bunker, after all.”
Whoever that snake mage was, whatever their purpose, they couldn't keep the mansion sealed like this forever.
“So all we must do is wait here for help to arrive.”
With magic of that scale unleashed, the security bureau would have registered the situation at once.
“As expected — there was a plan all along.”
“We may rest easy now.”
Just as the Count and his companions were finally drawing easy breaths—
“Is that so.”
“What…?”
There, the 'fox' still stood.
“What's going on!”
“The magic — it isn't working at all!”
“Defense — no, annih…ilation?”
Without a single wound on her.
“My eyes sting a little, so would you mind throwing something other than fireballs?”
The Count drew a scroll from his breast and unfurled it with a snap.
“Scorching Flames!”
The spell stored within the scroll raced in a straight line for the 'fox'—
“Well. If you'd rather I not, there's not much I can do about it.”
The 'fox' brushed aside the Count's strike with perfect ease. No — more precisely, the spell had been 'annihilated' before it ever touched her.
“How did she block that…?”
“Hmm. I'm not entirely sure myself, so a proper explanation would be difficult.”
“Damn it—!”
The spent scroll crumbled into powder. The guards too, heaving ragged breaths, abandoned their assault.
Over the head of the Count — exhausted, sunk where he stood — the placid voice of the 'fox' drifted down.
“Something about how it 'alters the very structure of mana,' I believe it was.”
The 'fox' leisurely raised one arm.
A outstretched hand, palm turned away. And from the back of it, a single strand rose into view.
“What does this look like to you, I wonder.”
“Wh-what is…”
A black thread.
The gazes of the Count and every mask in the room snapped to the 'fox's' hand at once.
The guards' eyes shook violently.
“MagicExistingWithoutMana—ThePremiseWeNeverEvenDeemedWorthExaminingHasCollapsed—ThisIsADenialOfEverythingEstablishedMagicStandsOn—ThisWillSurelySendShockwavesThroughTheEntireAcademicWorld…”
“How can a spell even exist?”
The Count stared blankly at his two grave-faced guards. The cooler-headed of the two noticed the Count's gaze and spoke up.
“'Magic' of a kind with no precedent.”
“What does that mean?”
“To put it in a metaphor — it is as if one baked bread from lime powder instead of flour.”
The Count swallowed.
Then that thing was the discovery of the century, wasn't it? New energy, new technology, new worlds.
“No.”
The cold voice of the 'fox' cooled the suddenly heated air.
“This is just a 'failure.'”
The black threads wriggled and coiled, weaving themselves into patterns and shapes.
And that — that much even the Count recognized. It was a basic spell, one he knew well.
Conjuring a small light in midair. Gathering a single droplet of water into a point — magic of that order.
“As you can see, this can't actually do anything.”
“Th-that's it! If research into spells suited to it begins from this point onward—!”
As though to cut the objection short, the 'fox' flicked her hand through the air.
Pop—
The severed black thread vanished with a small, muffled burst.
“A strange 'something' that collapses on the spot the moment it's cut off from its caster.”
At the fox's words, the guard who had been muttering feverishly to himself cried out in excitement.
“N-no, that can't be! Miss Fox — ah, forgive me, Lady Fox. Th-this is a m-m-miracle…! How on earth did you produce it? Its characteristics? The risks? Its production limit?”
The black thread stretching out from beneath the fox's feet touched the guard.
It wound around his ankle—
Squelch.
And crushed.
“KEAAAAAAGH!”
“Instability, I'd say? Control only lasts a moment. No matter what you do with it, it collapses once a set time passes.”
Around the wrist of the guard sprawled across the floor, the black thread wound itself once more.
Snick.
“Kraaagh!”
“Yes — as I thought, the biggest issue is that it can't coexist with mana at all.”
The opposite ankle.
Thud.
“Khh… stop….”
“It devours them, you see. Whether they take the form of raw mana or a completed spell.”
The last wrist.
Pop.
“Krrrggggh….”
“Anything made of mana, it 'assimilates' whole.”
Then the black thread that had been creeping toward the first guard's throat changed direction, heading instead for the other guard's ankle.
“S-stay back. Stay awaaaagh!”
“Production limits — well, I've yet to hit one.”
One by one, the room filled with screams. Cold sweat beaded on the Count's skin.
This — this 'fox' was nothing like the Countess of Lowell. Not remotely.
She was something darker, something far more wicked. A 'something' else entirely.
“I see.”
Having apparently forgotten he was even wearing a mask, the Count put on a soft smile — the kind one might use to soothe a child.
“Miss, couldn't you simply let us go?”
The 'fox' tilted her head.
“Why would I?”
“Think it through — we've no reason to be at odds with you, do we?”
They had merely fled the red snake together, all the way to this bunker. Nothing more.
They had never once produced the 'merchandise' with their own hands. Their interests had merely 'happened' to align with those who did.
“W-we only offered them the method, that's all!”
“Th-there's a list! If you're searching for an acquaintance, we will help you with everything we have!”
“Weren't we companions who fled here together, after all?!”
They had the wrong audience entirely.
Where this 'fox' belonged was not among the brokers like themselves — but among those who had made the 'merchandise.'
“Y-yes, exactly! We guided you all the way here out of goodwill!”
“You're repaying kindness with enmity, miss!”
And amid the clamor of the Count and his companions—
“Ahaha.”
The 'fox' let out a small laugh.
“Well, I'd say that's about the right amount of time stalled.”
The 'fox' walked over at her leisure and claimed the spot before the door.
As if declaring she would never, ever let her prey be taken from her, she turned her gaze upon the reptiles filling the room.
“Don't worry. I'm rather confident in my ability to hold back.”
Black thread.
Black thread.
Black thread. Black thread. Black thread.
So many black threads.
“Well — better than actual snakes, I'd say.”
The black threads reached out.