Chapter 333: The World Does Not Ask Back
Chapter 333: The World Does Not Ask Back
“…A Public Enemy Designation, is it?”
It’s been a while.
Officially, there was one case recently.
And with this, does that make it two?
It’s laughable that that idiot was involved in both.
In the old days, such situations were common, but these days, they are a rare occurrence.
Still, it’s not as if they don’t happen.
Public Enemy Designations still occur from time to time.
It’s just that the Management Bureau works hard to manipulate information so it doesn’t surface to the public.
The Bureau must have it rough.
To maintain the image of a perfect Hero, they even go as far as creating doubles for the failures.
With that thought, I glanced at the Magic Circle I had been constructing upon request.
Gene-based Transformation Magic.
As long as one has the target’s genetic material, this magic allows them to mimic that person’s appearance for a set period.
There are many similar transformation spells, but because they all had various stability issues, the Bureau commissioned this from me.
With this, although it requires genetic material as a catalyst for activation, the stability will be several times superior.
The duration is long, and since it’s a magic based on biological material transformation, their true form won’t be revealed even if hit by a cancellation spell. Their voice won’t differ, and they won’t be detected by optical equipment.
A magic designed to disguise the story of a failed Hero as a success.
Through this, the failed Hero is processed as deceased, having supposedly sacrificed themselves grandly for humanity in a final battle.
It’s a well-crafted script.
Disguising a Hero who failed due to lack of skill as noble, thereby elevating the prestige of Heroes.
If there’s any consolation, it’s that the number of such clumsy Heroes can be counted on one hand each year.
After all, dead men tell no tales.
Promoting the unskilled as Heroes.
I don’t like it, but it can’t be helped.
For the sake of reality, for the sake of humanity’s future.
My personal thoughts are just that—personal.
What the Bureau and everyone else does is for the sake of the collective.
So, even if I don’t like it, am I not lending my strength to such behind-the-scenes machinations?
However.
“This magic is useless now.”
I pushed my work aside into a corner and left the room.
Thud.
My private workspace, located in a corner of my laboratory.
As I stepped out of that room and into the main lab, I was met by the numerous mages who assist me.
“Professor!”
“Professor, just now…”
They immediately swarmed toward me, calling out in a panic.
The sight of them made me sigh involuntarily.
Sigh.
And these are the disciples of the great genius, Magic Weaver?
They should at least have the pluck to step forward and claim they’ll handle a Public Enemy Designation or two themselves.
It’s because they lack such spirit that their papers are always riddled with typos.
Of course, compared to me, my disciples are quite pitiful, so I shall show some mercy.
Such things are possible for me because I am the genius of the century, but ordinary mages are not geniuses.
Thus, to grant my disciples some peace of mind, I spoke while wiping my horn-rimmed glasses.
Squeak. Squeak.
“Do not worry; let us calm down. No matter if the opponent is an enemy of that Crimson★Hammer, isn’t the scope of the Public Enemy Designation remarkably narrow? This means the designation wasn’t issued because the opponent is strong, but simply because it is an enemy that a physical beast who follows his instincts would find difficult to handle.”
I crossed the lab, rattling off a basic situational explanation—one anyone could realize with a bit of thought—using Chanting acceleration.
I was slightly displeased by the young mages following behind me like a row of chicks.
Though, as a genius, it is only natural to walk ahead of ordinary people.
“It could be a battle of wits that the stupid Hammer could never win, or perhaps a conceptual lifeform with complete physical immunity. If not that…”
I paused, stopping myself from speaking the thought that had just occurred to me.
Something had happened to Crimson★Hammer.
That was my prediction.
I briefly considered the possibility and weighed the countless scenarios that could make it so.
Hmm.
It was a difficult scene to imagine.
She—no, he—is one of humanity’s hidden cards.
I hate to admit it, but he is stronger than me and stands in a higher place.
That is why I chase after his back.
Just as my disciples now chase after mine.
Of course, my feelings of loathing for that fellow will never change.
However, just as my personal judgment differs from the Bureau’s will, the man’s achievements and his base personality are separate matters; they simply grate on my nerves.
Therefore.
“Let’s just consider this as putting him in my debt.”
“Professor? What did you just say…?”
“It was nothing.”
Goodness, it seems my thoughts leaked out again. It’s a habit I need to fix, but it just won’t go away.
More importantly.
“Has The Council been convened?”
“Yes, I was actually about to tell you…”
“What is the attendance? How many members are currently at the Geneva Branch?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have that information yet…”
The researcher immediately bowed their head upon failing to answer my question.
However, that was the wrong reaction.
“Raise your head. Confirming the number of attendees is merely supplementary information. Even if I asked, it is not shameful that you haven’t obtained it. I have always told you, haven’t I? A mage must know exactly what they can and cannot do.”
Only then can one know their limits and look beyond them.
“And now is the time when you must acknowledge your limits. Know your limits, and do not wish for what lies beyond them. Only then will we be able to look at each other and smile once everything is over.”
Looking beyond is something best done from a position of safety.
With that final piece of advice, I left the lab.
All that remained was one last word.
“From this moment on, we are not in a relationship of professor and student. The only title we need is ‘comrade-in-arms.’”
With a smirk, I activated Teleportation magic.
My destination: the Grand Conference Room.
Looking back at my fading comrades, I spoke.
“Well then, don’t be late for your next shift.”
* * *
Fifteen minutes after the Public Enemy Designation was issued.
The Grand Conference Room, located on the first basement floor of the Management Bureau’s Geneva Branch.
This place was far from what the name ‘Grand Conference Room’ suggested.
No matter how you looked at it, it was just a typical lecture hall found at any university. The reason such an ordinary place bore the name was simply that the Mage Council was held here, and the name was changed later.
Currently, the members in the conference room were each expressing their dissatisfaction.
“Exactly when are the rest of them coming?”
Most of the complaints were of that nature.
Despite a major event like a Public Enemy Designation occurring, the number of members currently attending The Council was absurdly low.
The Mage Council consisted of 43 seats, yet there were only 16 participants present.
Since it was an emergency meeting, a low turnout was expected, but failing to even reach a majority was deemed excessive. This sentiment dominated the room.
Just as the criticism toward those who had yet to show their faces grew louder among the participants.
Click.
The door at the front of the room opened, and a mage walked inside.
Clad in a military uniform and holding an anti-tank rocket like a staff, he naturally drew the gaze of every member.
Standing before the lectern where the Chairman should have been, he met the mages’ eyes and spoke.
“Total count: 17. This is everyone. I will preside over the meeting in place of the absent Chairman.”
His words were calm, devoid of any emotion.
The other members harbored doubts about this.
They had heard no such thing.
Neither that the Chairman would be absent, nor that the total count was 17.
Given the situation.
“Macbeth. I have something I wish to ask before we begin The Council.”
One man quickly stood up to speak.
“What is it?”
Macbeth looked at him calmly and replied.
“I can accept you acting as the proxy if the Chairman is absent. You are stronger than anyone here, and you don’t belong to any faction.”
Many of the members in the room, excluding Macbeth, nodded at those words.
“However, there has been no official notice that the Chairman would be absent from this session. Therefore, if such a situation has occurred, I believe it is only right that you inform us of it first.”
The members who had nodded moments ago now expressed their agreement in their own ways.
However, a few mages did not react at all, quietly contemplating something.
“I see. I understand. That is certainly a valid point. Even in an emergency, following such rules is important. I was actually just about to speak on that…”
Macbeth, having been called out by the majority, agreed as if their point was reasonable. He paused for a moment, glanced at the members lost in thought, and spoke.
“It seems a few of you have already realized.”
“Realized what?”
“That is…”
The moment Macbeth opened his mouth.
“…The Geneva Branch has been sealed.”
One mage spoke up.
A man wearing black horn-rimmed glasses, looking more composed than anyone else present.
The moment all eyes turned to him, he glanced at the ceiling and began to speak again.
“Let’s see… Space-Time systems are obviously not working, and communication magic, Clairvoyance, and Familiars aren’t working either. Macbeth, just to be sure, has physical communication been cut off as well?”
“It has, Magic Weaver. All communication is dead. The Geneva Branch is currently unable to communicate with the outside world in any way.”
At those words, the conference room began to buzz with noise.
Those who had already guessed the situation nodded as if their suspicions were confirmed, while those who hadn’t yet grasped it began rapidly weaving communication spells.
As masters of various Type S of magic, they deployed a variety of spells that should never fail, yet no one spoke of a successful connection to the outside.
About forty seconds had passed since the exchange between Magic Weaver and Macbeth.
By the time the mages, who had exhausted every possible method in that short time, finally acknowledged reality.
“Then, it seems everyone understands. Let us begin The Council.”
Macbeth made the declaration.
The mages quickly signaled their agreement.
“First, is there anyone who doesn’t know why The Council was convened? …No one. Moving on.”
The proceedings were beyond brief, failing to follow even the most basic formalities. Yet, no one raised their voice in protest.
The forty seconds Macbeth had just granted them.
That time wasn’t merely for acknowledging reality.
Though they currently lived as magic professors or researchers in the civilian world and engaged in factional squabbles as members of the Mage Council, they were all people who had once stood on the battlefield.
Those forty seconds were for flipping the switch in their minds back to being mages prepared for combat.
“Then, let us share the information gathered so far.”
Thud.
The moment Macbeth, acting as Chairman, struck the floor with his RPG to begin the meeting—or rather, the strategy briefing.
An image was projected in front of the members.
A video containing a brief summary of the current situation.
The methods tested to break the seal, information provided through the Public Enemy Designation, and information about the Hero involved in the story.
And the damage that had occurred so far.
It was a vast amount of information, but as mages who had reached the pinnacle, they used their rapid information-processing abilities to sear the data into their minds in an instant.
The moment they finished, a common question raced through everyone’s mind.
“…The Enemy fled?”
“That’s right. The form of The Enemy appearing in this story is a tentacle-type. There have been several eyewitness reports of such an enemy, but it’s said they all fled rapidly the moment they were discovered, without causing any damage.”
It was information already in the video, but the moment Macbeth confirmed it verbally, the mages fell into various lines of thought.
Infection-type, time limits, special conditions—perhaps it was a type that grew stronger as time passed.
Everyone branched out with similar thoughts, trying to find the answer, but they soon stopped extending those branches of speculation.
They realized a crucial piece of the puzzle was missing to reach the answer.
“What did the person involved have to say about this? Crimson★Hammer. What was his opinion? Ah, there’s no need to ask like that. Let’s just have him join the meeting; that would make things much easier…”
He had voiced a perfectly standard suggestion to solve the puzzle.
“That is impossible.”
Macbeth returned a negative answer to his suggestion.
“Why is that?”
“The last record of Crimson★Hammer—that is, the Hero Lee Ha-ram—was in a special laboratory located deep underground…”
A shadow fell over Macbeth’s face.
As if he were afraid to speak the next words.
“…It has been determined that descending to that location is impossible. The special laboratory is located outside the unknown seal that appeared simultaneously with this Public Enemy Designation. Accordingly, it has been confirmed that communication cannot reach him.”
In Macbeth’s voice as he delivered this information, there was a slight hint of being at a loss.
Unlike his usual self.