Chapter 322
Chapter 322
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 322
Chapter Title: A Fleeting Fissure (4)
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Ordon talked nonstop on the way to the top floor. It was mostly trivial chatter, but Kangnan played along without showing any sign of annoyance.
“What's the ratio of magic academy graduates in Tormia?”
“I believe it's around seventy-two percent.”
“Oh, similar to Yakma. A wise decision. Academy graduates are reliable. The ones from the streets only know one thing. Their ability to adapt is poor, too. You can't possibly use people like that, can you?”
Kangnan was displeased to hear someone completely unrelated to magic meddling in the association's affairs.
“But wouldn't you say their ability to improvise in real combat is actually higher?”
“Haha! Improvise? You mean resorting to cheap tricks.”
*'Filthy bureaucracy.'*
Kangnan's lips twisted.
She wasn't an academy graduate herself. Then again, how could a man who only ever sees numbers on a document understand reality?
Opening the door to the reception room, Kangnan surveyed the space and let out a sigh. An envoy from another nation had arrived, yet the person staying on the very same floor had yet to appear.
“Please wait here. I will bring the Association President.”
Smoothing over the situation as if it were all part of the plan, Kangnan closed the door to the reception room and left.
From that moment, her pace quickened.
The sound of her high heels, sharp with killing intent, came to an abrupt stop. She pivoted at a precise right angle and knocked on the door to the president's office.
“It's Kangnan. I'm coming in.”
There was no reply. Not that she had expected one. Kangnan forcefully turned the doorknob and entered.
The room, filled with sweltering heat, reeked of sweat. The sight of the man sitting on the sofa was an assault on her eyes.
Not only was he wearing boxers so tight they revealed the contours of his groin, but he was also sitting with his legs spread shamelessly wide.
The man, staring at the ceiling with a cigar—the strongest kind, and a taboo for mages—clenched between his teeth, had a chest that rose and fell as if he had just finished a workout.
A broad chest and a waist as lean as a tiger's—hardly the physique of a mage. His thighs were like rock, his calves sleek and defined.
But if any woman other than Kangnan were to see his body, she would scream. It was covered in scars, as if hundreds of earthworms were crawling all over him, with not a single part of his body left unscathed.
“What is it, mutt?”
Kangnan's expression soured.
She had met this man when she was wandering the world alone after her wolf tribe was annihilated, and he had given her a new life, but right now, he felt less like a benefactor and more like an outright enemy.
“What do you mean, 'what is it?' I told you an urgent envoy was coming from Yakma. He's waiting in the reception room right now, so what are you doing in here?”
The man's head, which had been lolling over the back of the sofa, slowly came up.
In contrast to his muscular body, his face was gaunt, his cheekbones so prominent they made him look severe. A vertical scar running through his left eye stood out, and his lower face, hidden by a beard, was also covered in wounds. It was a testament to the long years of hardship he must have endured.
Mikea Gaold, President of the Tormia Magic Association.
He was a 1st-Grade Archmage, the highest rank in the Red Line, and one of the founding members of the Paranormal Research Society at Alpheas Magic Academy.
“The envoy... is here?”
“Don't you remember? I told you just an hour ago! Hurry up and go greet him.”
Gaold fell into thought.
He had no memory of it. It seemed he'd been losing his memory more frequently lately.
But what did it matter?
He took a deep drag from his cigar. Then he spoke curtly.
“I refuse.”
Kangnan closed her eyes. *Patience.*
Telling herself she was just saving one pitiful wreck of a man, she opened her eyes and took out an official document bearing the royal seal.
“This is a direct order from His Highness Adolf. It states that the matter is serious and you are to cooperate regardless of the circumstances. If you still refuse, I will take legal action.”
Gaold leaned his head back over the sofa again, as if he couldn't care less. He took another long drag from his cigar before speaking with irritation.
“You're so damn annoying. Can't even leave me alone for a second.”
“Every second you delay in receiving the envoy is a breach of etiquette. Please, stop acting like an ugly duckling.”
Finished, Kangnan glared at him and muttered.
“That duckling...”
Gaold lifted his head.
“What was that, you brat?”
“...acting like one, I said.”
“You already said that!”
“I was emphasizing.”
With a prim expression, Kangnan adjusted her horn-rimmed glasses and walked to the wardrobe. When she personally took out the president's official attire, Gaold had no choice but to slap his knees and stand up.
“Tch! This had better be important. If not, I'll beat them to a pulp.”
He hastily wiped the sweat off with a towel and changed his clothes.
Tossing the cigar to the floor, Gaold left the room and strode toward the reception hall.
When he opened the door, Ordon greeted him with a bright smile. Naturally, his attitude toward the president was different from his attitude toward the chief of staff.
After the pleasantries were over, Ordon got straight to the point. As expected of a top envoy, the moment he switched to business, the look in his eyes changed.
An aide brought a portable video recording device to the table. Next, a small safe was brought in, and Ordon unlocked it himself. Inside the safe was an Obscura B.
“Anomalous phenomena are currently occurring all over the world, including in Yakma. First, take a look at this footage.”
He connected the Obscura B to the device, and an image appeared. The scene was of a provincial city that still retained an ancient atmosphere.
Gaold, who had been watching with indifference, suddenly showed interest, his eyes gleaming.
People with dozens of tongues writhing in their mouths were devouring others.
Screams were followed by the arrival of the defense force. But when members of the defense force were bitten by the mutated beings, they underwent the same transformation, and the situation spiraled out of control.
“This incident occurred in a region called Kuberin. We haven't been able to acquire footage from other countries, but rumors say a similar disease has been spreading. In some regions, they say ghosts have appeared.”
Gaold focused solely on the video.
Eventually, a special forces unit from the royal capital was dispatched and suppressed the mutated beings. A few of the swordsmen were men whose names even Gaold recognized.
After collecting samples, mages cast a massive blaze and incinerated the entire town.
“We autopsied the deceased immediately after the incident. Any mutation is based on existing properties. However, the mutations in the deceased didn't match the characteristics of any known creature here.”
Gaold reverted to his indifferent attitude. He let out a long, drawn-out yawn as if he had lost all interest and said,
“So what, are you saying this thing came from outer space?”
The footage Ordon had shown was likely a top-secret matter in Yakma. Showing it to a mage from another country and providing key information meant that they, too, had something to gain.
There was no way Ordon, Yakma's top diplomat, could have missed Gaold's change in demeanor.
But he hadn't come today to set up a negotiation table. This was a transnational issue, and nations around the world were watching.
“It seems... something has gone wrong with Miro's spacetime.”
For a brief moment, a light flickered in the eyes of Gaold, who had been smacking his lips tiredly. But it was only a fleeting change, and he quickly returned to his nonchalant expression.
“So what? What do you want me to do about it?”
“We want to investigate Miro's spacetime. But as you know, it can only be reached through the Tormia Kingdom... Of course, we aren't asking for independent access. We already have Valkyrie's approval.”
“To be precise, through Alpheas Magic Academy.”
Gaold revealed his displeasure.
Even though he'd become a wreck whose memory failed him at any given moment, there were some memories he could never forget. Memories as vivid as reality continued to sadistically whip his mind and body.
Gaold leaned back and crossed his legs. Any semblance of manners had long since vanished from his mind.
Kangnan could be heard sighing. But he paid it no mind.
“I'll think about it. For now, you should leave.”
Ordon's expression turned to one of utter disbelief at the unexpected response.
“Think about it? Do you believe I came here to ask you for a favor? This is a matter of international cooperation. I was under the impression that His Highness Adolf had already consented...”
The muscles in Gaold's face twitched abnormally. It was as if a demon's soul had possessed his face; two extreme expressions appeared at once.
“Did you think I'd tuck my tail and run just because you mentioned the king's name? Adolf? Who the hell is that bastard? No one goes anywhere without my permission.”
The air grew hot, and the objects in the reception room began to tremble. Psychic waves, generated by the clash between his urge to kill Ordon and the will to suppress it, were moving the objects.
This was a level of self-control that far surpassed human limits. This time, even Kangnan couldn't intervene and simply swallowed hard.
Ordon saw a hallucination.
The reception room vanished, leaving only him and Gaold sitting opposite each other, surrounded on all sides by the flames of hell. He could smell sulfur, and from beyond the wall of fire came the screams of ghouls.
Just what kind of life had this man lived? He had met countless vicious people in his life, but this was the first time anyone had filled him with such terror.
*'They said the President of Tormia's Magic Association was a madman...'*
He thought he finally understood why Kangnan hadn't been kicked out of the association, despite having beaten up numerous nobles. The head of the association himself was a lunatic beyond compare.
“Get out. Before I kill you.”
This was a man who called his own king 'that bastard'. Realizing there wasn't an ounce of falsehood in Gaold's words, Ordon screamed and fled the reception room the moment the hallucination faded. A trail of urine ran down his trousers and onto the floor.
What was done could not be undone. A heavy silence fell over the reception room.
As Gaold's killing intent subsided, Kangnan sat down in Ordon's seat and spoke.
“Did you have to go that far? You could have sent him away with a few polite words.”
“He was a detestable bastard. You enjoyed that, didn't you?”
“Well... I can't deny that.”
Gaold took a cigar from his pocket and put it in his mouth. He flicked his fingers, and a flame sparked to life, lighting the tip.
Within the association, where magic control devices were active, Gaold was the only one who could use magic.
“Investigate Miro's spacetime? They might as well stick out their necks and ask me to smash the back of their heads.”
“But what could have really happened? If there was a problem with Miro's spacetime, Tormia should have been the first place to show signs of anomalies.”
“It probably is. It just hasn't manifested yet. You said those tongue monsters appeared in Kuberin, right? That's where an ancient colosseum once stood.”
“What's the significance of that?”
“They're not living creatures. They're a kind of... concept, I'd say. The hypothesis would be that this concept crossed over to this side and took root in an area where human thoughts are concentrated.”
Kangnan nodded meekly.
If Gaold said it was so, then it was so. No one in Valkyrie's high command knew as much about Miro and Heaven as Gaold did.
“Why would such a phenomenon occur?”
“Living beings couldn't have crossed over. The most likely assumption is that a fissure of a certain size has opened in Miro's spacetime. Miro could probably repair something like that. But it won't hold for long.”
Gaold leaned back against the chair and took the cigar from his mouth, holding it between his fingers. Acrid smoke from the cigar filled the reception room.
“Kangnan, you'll have to go.”
Kangnan sat up straight, placing her hands on her knees.
“Your orders, sir.”
“Similar incidents will start happening here soon. Investigate them all. Focus your search on places where ancient thoughts might gather. Ruins, colosseums, castle sites, places like that.”
After jotting down Gaold's directive in her notebook, Kangnan shot up from her seat and headed for the door. Since it was a solo mission, she wouldn't need to use a carriage, so she wouldn't be late no matter where in the kingdom an incident occurred.
“Oh, and while you're out, stop by Creas.”
Kangnan, who had been about to open the door and leave, turned back.
“You mean where the magic academy is? Do you have a message for Mr. Alpheas?”
Gaold tapped the sofa, lost in thought.
It felt a bit premature, but if something was wrong with Miro's spacetime, there was no time to delay. It was time to execute the plan he had dedicated his life to.
“Go and meet a boy named... Shirone.”
(End of Volume 13)