Chapter 323: Mages are Crazy Bastards.
Chapter 323: Mages are Crazy Bastards.
Right now, I am standing—or rather, hanging—in the middle of the Geneva Magic Society campus against the backdrop of the fading sunset.
To be more specific, I’m lashed to the same cross where I saw that poor sacrificial lamb hanging while I was eating earlier.
To be perfectly honest, I could easily smash the cross and walk away whenever I want, but...
“Uh, excuse me, sirs? Given your ages, don’t you think it’s time you all started acting a bit more dignified...?”
“Death Penalty! Death Penalty! Death Penalty!”
“Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!”
“Light the fire! Drop a meteor! Today, we shall witness the absolute limits of this man’s durability!”
“Today, we bring down a former S-Rank!”
Listening to this, I lost all motivation to do anything.
Is collective madness always this terrifying?
With so many people surrounding me and exerting mental pressure, I find myself unable to act.
Still, they probably don’t intend to actually kill me.
True to their nature as mages descended from theoretical scientists, they seem to possess a shred of lingering rationality; they at least waited for me to finish my meal before stringing me up.
...The phrase 'a death row inmate's last supper' keeps floating through my mind, but I’m sure it’s just my imagination.
“The defendant is charged with at least several thousand counts of property damage based on the information we have gathered alone...”
Magic Weaver is saying some very strange things.
I have no idea where he even found that long parchment he’s holding, which presumably lists all my crimes.
“Death Penalty! Death Penalty! Death Penalty!”
Meanwhile, those terrifying chants continue to ring out.
Gradually, anxiety about my future began to take root.
I mean, they won’t really kill me, right?
I can see people firing their guns into the air like madmen.
Just what kind of image do these mages have of me? I can think of a few things I’ve done wrong, but no matter how I look at it, I don’t think I deserve to be treated like the ultimate Public Enemy.
I wondered how much time had passed as I listened to the endless list of my crimes and the resentment-filled grievances of the crowd.
Just as my body was starting to feel stiff from the restraints, the long recitation finally ended, and Magic Weaver spoke again in a new tone.
“Based on the aforementioned points, the defendant, Lee Ha-ram, is hereby sentenced to three years of banishment to a Closed Space.”
That sounds like an incredibly light sentence. I don’t know exactly what a 'Closed Space' is, so I can’t be sure of the full implications, but compared to the crowd’s cries for execution and burning at the stake, isn’t a three-year banishment pretty weak?
Of course, a light sentence is good for me, but I felt I should at least know the reasoning behind the verdict.
“Um, hey, Magic Weaver? I have a question.”
As I spoke up for the first time...
“The defendant has not been granted permission to speak. If you wish to speak, please request permission in advance.”
Magic Weaver spoke with a heavy, authoritative tone, sounding nothing like his usual self.
Setting aside how annoying it is to see that loudmouth acting so high and mighty, don’t I have to speak in order to ask for permission to speak in the first place?
Despite the logical flaw, I decided to play along with their witch trial for now.
“May I speak?”
“Denied.”
...Then don’t tell me to ask for permission!
“Hey, you crazy bastards! You have to let me say something! What the hell is a three-year banishment to a Closed Space?”
“The defendant has not been granted permission to speak! However, we Heroes are those who serve world peace and humanity. Therefore, out of a sense of philanthropy, we shall grant the mercy of informing Crimson★Hammer—who seems to be the condensation of all the world's malice—exactly what punishment he will receive.”
What overly flowery words, typical of Magic Weaver.
Hearing that, my annoyance at his dignified act vanished, replaced by an inexplicable sense of dread tickling my throat.
“A Closed Space is a realm between the Otherworld and reality. It is a special place that can be accessed through magic and various technologies. Since the concepts of time and space are blurred there, we can use specific methods to create a space of a certain scale and manipulate the internal flow of time.”
My bad feeling was intensifying.
“Of course, doing so requires a massive amount of funding and time, but our comrades gathered here have volunteered their cooperation. Unfortunately, even with such vast resources, three years is the limit we can maintain it...”
Wait a minute, you lunatics.
So, you’re saying you’re banishing me to the Otherworld for three years?
According to the explanation, it’s technically the space between worlds, but still.
“Hey! You’re going to kick me out for three years? Fine! While I’m gone, I’ll spend those three years praying that a Public Enemy Designation-level threat shows up and blows up only the headquarters of everyone involved here, without any collateral damage!”
Naturally, I had no intention of being banished quietly.
Regardless, I expressed my outrage at the fact that they even thought of such a punishment.
“That is quite alright, Great Villain Crimson★Hammer. Since we acknowledge your combat prowess, we have no intention of wasting one of humanity’s hidden cards on a mere grudge. Therefore, the Closed Space we have prepared will have a time acceleration of approximately 30,000 times. By the time you return, only about 50 minutes will have passed in the real world.”
Wow, these guys are seriously insane.
Fine, let’s overlook their bizarre level of preparedness for a moment. But...
“Hey! If I stay in there for three years, I’ll lose my mind!”
How can a person survive three years in solitary confinement without any stimulation?
You guys would go crazy too if you couldn't meet anyone for three years. Though, I suppose you’re all already crazy in your own way.
“Do not worry. To prevent the deterioration of the subject’s mental health, we plan to send a tablet containing a vast collection of magical engineering theses and books with you. If you study for three years in that quiet space, you might just become a grandmaster of magic.”
Magic Weaver, that crazy mage, answered my protest with a straight face.
Hey, even martial artists don't train like that.
Three years of wall-gazing meditation?
No, three years of training while reading research papers?
I’d come out of there completely unhinged.
“Originally, research suggested that any living creature entering such a space would be physically crushed, unable to withstand the time acceleration. However, there is a paper stating that Crimson★Hammer is so durable that he could theoretically endure it. There was also a graduate student’s thesis claiming that no living being could survive even five times time acceleration in a Closed Space, but that paper was ruined because of a single exception, no matter how they crunched the numbers.”
Yep. It’s confirmed.
These bastards have collectively lost their minds.
“Hey, you lunatics. Just tell me to pay for the damages with money instead.”
Despite my complaints...
“Well then, have a safe trip.”
At Magic Weaver’s signal, everyone raised their hands.
In response, a massive Magic Circle began to etch itself into the air.
“I’ve been trying to be patient with you guys, but this is it.”
Finally, my patience snapped.
Crack.
The wooden cross holding me broke apart.
Thud.
I landed on the pile of firewood, hammer in hand, my body reinforced.
“Listen up, you bastards! Might makes right!”
I roared.
“The defendant has fled his merciful punishment! Kill him!”
“I shall prove that a boorish Magical Girl who lives by instinct can never defeat a wise and intellectual mage!”
“My chance for a practical thesis demonstration!”
With countless furious shouts, the battle began.
* * *
It was a nightmare.
Since many of the people attending this gathering were former Heroes, I frequently saw spells capable of actually harming me among the barrage of magic being unleashed.
Because so much magic was being poured out at once, even I couldn't block it all.
Even in this situation, they didn't seem to want to draw blood; most of the spells were impact-based ones focused on pain, sensory manipulation, or mental interference.
But pain is still pain, and no matter how tough my body is, I can’t maintain my composure when dozens of those spells hit me every minute.
Actually, if that were all, I might have been able to endure the fight.
However, there was another factor that made this battle even more horrific.
“You bastard, you shot that at us on purpose, didn't you?”
“You got proof?”
“Your face is proof enough!”
Before long, the mages started brawling among themselves.
One person picking a fight because a magic missile flew their way was the mildest of it.
There were lunatics who weren't even aiming for me, but were openly dropping pillars of fire on rival Society members they didn't get along with.
Even that damn Magic Weaver was firing off large-scale spells like a maniac without any regard for his surroundings.
I suppose this is what happens when you gather mages from different schools of thought in one place.
Of course, even in that chaos, I seemed to be their top priority.
Even while fighting each other, if I passed by, the spells they were preparing for their rivals would suddenly be redirected at me.
Anyway, in the middle of the campus where the sunset had vanished and darkness was settling in, I was fighting a battle, swinging my hammer and dripping with sweat amidst the mage brawl.
Whirrr.
With a vibrating sound...
Suddenly, all stimuli vanished.
The searing heat licking my skin, the shouts piercing my ears, the flashes of magic etched into my eyes.
Everything remained only as a shadow, like the afterimage of a momentary flash.
In the silence where nothing remained but the ticking of a clock, the lingering afterimage of the long flash blinded me. I closed my eyes briefly and then opened them, finally realizing where I was.
It was a room made of wood, filled with antique furniture, and walls decorated in deep purple.
There was a fireplace in one corner, and the room was filled with books, the lighting intentionally dimmed.
To put it simply, I was standing in the middle of a Victorian-style room.
...Could this be?
At that thought, I turned my head toward the source of the ticking sound, and the person I expected was standing there.
A Middle-aged Man holding a ticking Pocket Watch.
Perhaps he didn't carry his trademark RPG staff in his own room; he was dressed in an ordinary, faded military uniform—a middle-aged mage who was still undeniably handsome.
Macbeth took one last look at the ticking watch.
Snap.
He snapped the cover of the Pocket Watch shut with a sharp sound.
“You’re five minutes late. You took your time, Lee Ha-ram.”
He finally spoke.
“A lot of things happened.”
Mostly thanks to your fellow mages throwing a riot.
Of course, I’m partly to blame, but going on a rampage like hooligans who just lost a match... isn't that on them?
“I know. The campus was quite noisy. I even saw Magic Weaver running around gathering people with his glasses broken.”
“If you knew, why didn't you stop them?”
I said as I sat down on a sofa near the fireplace.
The sofa I sat on was as antique as it looked; it felt more hard than plush, but it provided a good resting place for my body, which was exhausted from bickering with the mages.
“Do you really think I could have stopped those people?”
I thought about it for a moment, but even for Macbeth, it seemed like a tall order.
“Probably not, right?”
“Exactly. That is why I summoned you from that spot to pull you out. Now that the object of their anger is gone, they will either fight among themselves or eventually disperse on their own.”
“Well, thanks for that.”
If it weren't for this man’s forced summons, I’d probably still be trading punches with them.
Surely that chaos won't happen every single day while I’m staying here, right?
Won't they get tired if they keep that up?
Clinging to that hope, I gulped down some milk tea that had been set out on a small table—it had gone cold, likely because it had been prepared in advance.
A drink where the astringent and bitter taste of tea was neutralized by milk.
To be honest, I don't even know what criteria make tea taste 'good,' and it wasn't so bad that I couldn't drink it. After taking a decent swig, I stuffed a buttered scone from the table into my mouth.
“Now then, let us talk. Regarding the reason you came...”
Seeing me act like that, Macbeth glanced at me and sat in the chair opposite mine.
I opened my mouth to respond, but...
“Mmph. Lissen— hurgh.”
The scone was drier than I expected and got stuck in my throat, preventing me from speaking properly.
As I reached for my cup to take another drink...
“I already know why you are here, so eat slowly and just listen.”
Perhaps out of consideration for me, Macbeth also picked up his teacup and took a small sip.
“Establishing the basics of magical engineering as part of the standard curriculum. It is not a bad idea. So, let us discuss the details.”
And so, my conversation with Macbeth began.