Dark Moon

Leaving Baron Ptelgar's manor, I peeled off the mask and fitted an artificial face of synthetic leather over my own. A skin-mask. The face looking back from the world now was that of a man slightly older than me.

This is going to be a slog.

I had to hunt down a black mage in hiding. The only scrap of information I had was that he worked as a tattooist.

…Keep it light. Keep it light. It's a mission I'm dropping in three days anyway.

I fiddled with the mobile watch strapped to my left wrist. In this world, a mobile watch was a smartphone — it could throw up holograms and connect to the internet. People usually paired it with a smart lens.

A smart lens was a specialized contact lens. The mobile watch's display projected straight onto it.

Information keeps rolling in.

No. 212 was collating everything the bodyguards dragged out of the prostitutes and feeding it to me. Most of it was on the tattooists operating in this district.

Still nothing on the friend of the girl who blew up. Twenty-one tattooists in the area total. I'll have to check them one by one.

Closest first.

I walked the streets with the map the smart lens was projecting in front of me. The city was a wash of gray. Factories ground away, and the sky hung thick with black smoke. Most of the people on the street were laborers in oil-stained clothes.

Even so, it was a place where people lived, so if you looked hard enough you could find anything — restaurants, bars, convenience stores, the works. I scanned my surroundings as I wound through the alleys.

First stop. Deep in a back alley, a tattoo shop hung a weathered sign over its door.

The machines inside looked half-dead, but the place was packed with customers. I cut past the people waiting and headed for the workroom.

"H-hey, wait a second! Who the hell are you?! Don't you see people waiting here?!"

A short red-haired woman who looked like staff burst out and blocked my path. She had piercings in her ears and nose, wore something that left most of her bare, and tattoos covered more than half her body.

I couldn't be bothered explaining. I drew the pistol from my coat and leveled it at her forehead.

"Move."

The woman went white and quietly stepped back. The waiting customers slipped out of the shop without a word. People used to trouble knew exactly how to handle a situation like this.

I kicked the workroom door open. A gaunt man in the middle of inking a client's back looked up and nearly jumped out of his skin.

"W-who the hell are you?! And what's with the gun?!"

Bang!

The bullet skimmed past the tattooist's temple. His eyes went wide.

"Don't try anything stupid. Stay put."

I closed the distance. His pupils rolled. The client on the bed took one look at the room and bolted.

"W-what is this about? Are you with some new mafia outfit that just moved into the neighborhood? This isn't an illegal shop. We run this place with a proper license. Look — we've even got the tattoo certification up on the wall."

"If you don't want to die, shut up and sit still."

I clamped a hand on his shoulder.

Mana rode the mana pathways and moved. It slipped into his body without the slightest resistance. No rank. A civilian who couldn't sense mana, let alone use it.

"W-what do you want? Money?"

"I'm looking for a tattooist. Tell me everything you know about the tattooists in this district."

"W-why are you looking for tattooists?"

"…I've been far too polite."

Bang!

The bullet punched into his thigh.

"Gaaaaah!"

"I ask the questions. If you want to live, answer them properly."

"Khnnn…. A-alright. The tattooists…."

He listed every tattooist he knew. Four of them weren't in my information. Illegal tattooists.

I left the shop with what I needed.

Better prioritize the illegal ones.

"Stop right there!"

A woman's voice cut in from behind me.

I turned slowly. The red-haired employee from the shop had a gun trained on me.

"You just walk in and pull this?! You think you can wreck someone's business and walk away clean?!"

"Nobody died. What's the problem?"

"You call that an answer?! You put a bullet in Jack's thigh and you're asking what's the problem?!"

"You want medical fees? Sorry. I'm broke."

She ground her teeth.

"I swore two years ago. I was done just taking it…!"

She pulled the trigger. The round came for my head. It never touched me. The barrier magic I'd cast in advance flicked the bullet aside.

Her eyes blew wide for a heartbeat. She stumbled back, shaking.

"A-a mage…?! Why would a mage—?!"

I walked toward her. She clenched her jaw, leveled the muzzle again, and kept firing. Pointless. A pistol caliber couldn't punch through my barrier. Magic rounds might have been a different story — but those weren't something a civilian could pick up on a street corner.

Click. Click.

Empty. Her arms dropped. Fear flooded the eyes fixed on me. Even so, the fists she still held tight carried a stubborn will that hadn't broken.

I closed my hand around her throat. She choked and gagged.

"I don't care about your past. Even if I did, it wouldn't change a thing. I'm not going to kill you. You shot at me, but it barely registered as a threat. One piece of advice, though. Live quietly."

I let go. She crumpled to the floor and glared up at me.

"Live quietly?! We were living quietly — you're the one who kicked the door in! So what, we're just supposed to keep getting walked over by bastards like you?!"

"Why act surprised. Isn't that how the world works? Don't want to take it? Then get stronger."

I turned my back on her and walked away. More than once on the way out I considered finishing her, then decided against it. She was fairly pretty. Clean her up properly and she'd make a decent beauty.

After striking out on the seventh, I sighed and set out for the eighth illegal tattooist. The sky was already dark. Factories crowded the area so thickly that the night sky showed neither stars nor much of a moon.

I'm getting tired. Check the eighth tonight and leave the ninth for tomorrow afternoon.

I walked the alleys. The reek of stale oil was starting to feel familiar. I came out of the alley and headed toward a half-collapsed bridge that had gone to ruin. Under the bridge, instead of running water, there was only a thick sludge of congealed waste oil.

And beside the bridge — a small shack cobbled together from scrap.

I wrapped myself in a barrier and kicked the plank door in. Gun up, I stepped inside.

At the center of the dark room, a man sat at ease. He looked to be in his fifties, and the eyes he fixed on me were sharp as drawn steel.

I knew it on instinct. This was the black mage.

"I heard some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠greenhorn mage was tearing around the district…. Baron Ptelgar's orders?"

"You're the one who turned a prostitute into a Living Bomb and sent her to the Ptelgar manor. My job's almost done — I suppose I should call that lucky."

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet flew straight and bounced off a barrier. I wasn't surprised. I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠expected it. A black mage was still a mage. Elemental magic might be hard for him, but attribute-less magic came as easily as this.

"You. You've got nothing to do with Claxon, do you?"

"What are you talking about. Claxon hired me."

"I've seen Claxon. He didn't strike me as the kind of bastard who'd use a Living Bomb."

"You judge people by their faces? How stupid."

"More than that — Claxon doesn't have the money to hire a black mage like you."

The black mage only chuckled.

While I talked, I triggered the magic I'd prepared.

A violent shockwave hurled the black mage and everything around him across the room. I backstepped clear of the collapsing shack.

I frowned. I'd watched the black mage's body, caught in the blast, dissolve into black smoke.

Some kind of illusion? Where's the real one?

I spread mana and searched for the hidden black mage.

Found him. He was tucked into the darkest spot under the bridge.

A pointed stake of ice formed in front of me and shot into the dark. The black mage scrambled clear of the Ice Arrow. He landed and grinned.

"Not bad with magic."

"Wipe that look off your face."

I was about to cast the next spell when—

Squeak. Squeak-squeak!

A rat. I looked down and saw one charging me full tilt. My face went hard. A magic circle was drawn across the rat's body.

My mind parsed the formula in an instant. I'd seen the same spell structure only hours earlier, so the read was fast.

Living Bomb…!

I accelerated my consciousness.

I shaped the formulas. Accelerated consciousness snapped back to normal. I fired the three prepared spell formulas in rapid succession.

The rat exploded. One of the barriers shattered under the blast.

"That casting speed is absurd. You carrying an artifact that assists casting?"

"This is pure ability."

"Even a stray dog wouldn't buy that. Fine — keep it to yourself. I'll kill you and take it anyway."

Squeak! Squeak-squeak-squeak! Squeak-squeak!

Rats poured in from every direction. Every last one carried Living Bomb black magic.

"Hope that artifact of yours is tough enough to take the blasts."

At a glance, more than ten rats were charging me.

I dropped an Air Strike into the ground at my feet. One of the barriers wrapping me broke. The shockwave rolled outward and flung the charging rats clear in a single sweep.

I'd bought a little time. I pulled a magazine from my coat and reloaded the pistol, then opened fire on the rats coming back in.

Bang! Boom! Bang-bang!

Rats hit by the rounds burst apart. Scrap iron and broken furniture strewn around the area caught the blasts, shattered, and lifted into the air.

"One shot, one kill…. Fine marksman, aren't you. Shame about that, though. I've got bombs to spare."

Wherever they were coming from, the rats kept pouring out. And finally the bullets ran dry. I tossed the pistol aside and cast the magic I'd prepared.

Gravity inverted.

Scrap metal and splinters of wood around me rose into the air in a dense cloud. Thousands of pieces, easy.

Like gripping the entire space…!

Every piece hanging in the air locked still at once. It looked almost like time itself had stopped — a surreal, beautiful sight. I had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no time to enjoy it. I gritted my teeth and wrung every last drop of mana and focus dry.

Thousands of fragments poured toward the black mage.

"Telekinesis?! You insane—!"

He tried to run. Too late.

The storm of debris shredded the barrier he'd been holding and drove deep into his body. He died without even managing a scream.

The rats charging me stopped cold. They looked around as if taking stock of the situation, then scattered in every direction.