The Thing in the Basement
The door opened.
Kajan and Simon slipped into Walter's laboratory, holding their breath.
"Cleaner than I expected."
"Right?"
Unlike the first time Simon had set foot in here, the place had been tidied up considerably. A neatly organized desk, a clothes rack, a cabinet, a simple tea set, and shelves of books. It felt like any spotless administrator's office you could find anywhere.
And that was exactly what struck Simon as odd. Kizen professors were necromancers and fanatical researchers first, educators second. Aaron had his swaying, living dragon bones. Bahil had a colossal blackboard crammed edge to edge with curse formulas. Byeolya had furniture scorched and eaten through by poison.
A necromancer's private space was supposed to carry some trace of its owner's color. So an office this utterly devoid of personality felt, if anything, deeply unnatural.
Drreeek.
Simon started with the drawers. Nothing but ordinary transaction records, supply purchase lists, and stamps. Click. Drreeek. He pried open every drawer that would yield, and not a single item proved useful. It was blandness, pure and undiluted.
Rattle rattle!
Then came Kajan, tugging at a locked cabinet.
"Simon, there's something in here."
Interest sharpened Simon's eyes at once.
"Can you open it?"
"Let's find out."
While Kajan unpacked his various tools, Simon combed the room like a pickpocket. He checked under the desk, rummaged through the trash bin, even went through the pockets of every garment hanging in the closet.
How can there be nothing? Nobody lives this clean.
He moved to the bookshelf, pulled out a few volumes, and flipped through them. In one, he found a passage Walter had underlined.
"Creation begins with doubting the essence of things."
Simon snapped a picture of the passage with the mana camera Kajan had given him, then turned to another page.
"I refuse to believe that death guides me into another life. It is a door that simply closes."
"If the dead, like an old man speaking to the young, would only strive to speak to the living, it would be a fine thing."
There were other passages too, cryptic things he couldn't make heads or tails of. He photographed everything and went back to searching.
Ah!
His first real find. Tucked into a storage slot was a document bearing what looked like Walter's signature.
He spread it out and called the Bishop of the Blood Sky Cult's handwriting to mind for comparison — but it was no use. He simply couldn't tell.
The two signatures were of entirely different kinds, which was only natural given that the languages differed. Bishop Judah of the Blood Sky Cult signed in Gothic, while Walter, professor of Kizen, signed in Continental. He'd have to ask Dick for a proper handwriting verification.
If the analysis says they came from the same hand, that's evidence I can actually use.
For now, he photographed both signatures.
Click!
Just then, Kajan cracked the cabinet's lock. Simon hurried over, his face brightening.
"Knew it was you, Kajan! What's inside?"
"There's something, all right. No idea what it is, though."
"Let me take a look."
Inside the cabinet sat red glass vials packed into boxes. A staggering number of them.
Simon knew instantly what they were.
Hematopoiesis Injections!
There was no mistaking it — he'd seen them that very morning in Hemomancy class. This had to be that very liquid said to accelerate blood production.
Simon's expression darkened.
Why would Walter lie?
The man had claimed the supply was extremely limited — but this was enough to inoculate several classes' worth of students without breaking a sweat.
Simon set his jaw, chin in hand, face gone stiff.
Everyone walked out of that lesson wanting an injection.
In Class A, a student named Sophie Santana had demonstrated dramatically amplified blood magic after receiving hers. Even the students who, like Simon, had eyed the new product with suspicion were now enthralled after watching her results. And since the vials were supposedly scarce, everyone was quietly praying they'd be the one chosen next class.
Walter would let them take the injections one by one, prove their efficacy with each demonstration, and whip the students' interest into an even greater frenzy.
No matter how I look at it, it's suspicious.
Simon photographed the vials of injection fluid with the mana camera, then pocketed a single one. Beside him, Kajan spoke up.
"Isn't it risky to actually take something?"
"I'm only going to swap out one vial."
Simon produced an empty vial and a Blood Potion. He decanted a small amount of the injection fluid into the empty vial, then topped up the shortfall with the potion.
"I'm going to have the contents analyzed."
"Good thinking."
Simon restored the vial to its exact position and shut the cabinet, locking it again. Kajan straightened up and asked:
"So — did we find everything you were looking for?"
"Yes."
Walter's signature and handwriting. A sample of the Hematopoiesis Injection. He had it all.
And yet not one piece of it qualified as conclusive evidence.
"Kajan."
"Hmm?"
Simon's expression sank even lower as he spoke.
"That basement — the dangerous one. Is there really no way we can take a look down there?"
The two descended the stairs and arrived at the basement level in question. It seemed to run two or three floors deep — about as far down as an ordinary building would go.
They advanced down a long corridor lost in darkness so absolute that even the space directly ahead was invisible, both of them wearing night-vision goggles powered by mana.
"I'm following your lead here, but are you sure it has to go this far?"
As Kajan scratched at his scar, Simon pressed a hand to his aching forehead.
"...Honestly, I'd rather just find proof that Professor Walter's innocent and wash my hands of the whole thing."
Distrusting others came no more easily to Simon than to anyone else. But though he'd failed to turn up anything conclusive, the pieces kept pointing the same direction — that Walter was cooking up something deeply wrong. Countless people wished for Kizen's downfall. If Walter truly belonged to the Blood Sky Cult, something as dangerous as a second Saintess Incident could erupt at any time.
And here at Kizen, the only person who doubted Walter — who believed he might actually be entangled with the cult — was Simon, the one who had fought the cult face-to-face aboard the Divinity Express.
There was no downside to being overly careful. With that thought, Simon steeled himself.
"Deep," Kajan murmured. "Doesn't match the basement levels this building is supposed to have."
It felt less like a basement than an underground bunker. The two of them were picking their way forward cautiously when Kajan, walking point, stopped and raised a closed fist.
The signal to halt.
...Ugh.
A stench rolled over them, foul enough to rot a nose clean off — almost exactly the smell from that warehouse stacked with mountainous piles of still-beating hearts. Kajan ran his eyes along the wall, then gestured: look here.
Horrific bloodstains marked the surface everywhere they turned. The spatter patterns were stark and savage, like the aftermath of a slaughterhouse left out in the open.
Mouths clamped shut, the two pressed onward, strangling every sound of their movement.
—!
A sudden prickle of dread shot up Simon's spine.
In the darkness, something was opening its eyes.
Four eyes.
"Kajan, get down!"
A huge hand burst from the darkness. The two hurled themselves aside, and the floor shook with a thunderous BOOM!!
Scrambling back, Simon poured more mana into his night-vision goggles and stared ahead.
What in the world is that?
Something abominable stood there. Its skin was tattered brown, stitched over in places with crude lines of thread. Looking closer, its body appeared to be two giants sewn together. Yet only one heart beat — a single organ pulsing visibly in its chest. One half of the body was female. The other, male.
"A chimera, huh? And it doesn't intend to let us just walk past."
Kajan readied himself for battle.
The monster sprang upward, pressing both legs flat against the ceiling, and tilted its two inverted faces as it peered down at Simon and Kajan. The sight of those heads swiveling with a wooden, puppet-like creak made the hair stand on the back of Simon's neck.
It's coming!
Its four pairs of limbs flailing, the ceiling-bound thing scuttled toward them like a monstrous spider. Every time those razor claws raked the wall, Simon's ears throbbed.
"Fall back."
Kajan stepped forward. The veteran launched himself upward without a flicker of hesitation, fist clenched. Jet-Black coiled around his knuckles.
FWOOOOOM—!
A fist carrying the destructive force of a sledgehammer slammed dead center into the monster's male half, right through the skull. The entire basement shuddered under the impact, and the monster's head snapped violently back.
"Tch!"
Kajan's face twisted.
"Didn't go in."
"What?"
The counter came at once. The female half's fist was already dropping toward Kajan's head.
CRRAAAAK!
Kajan's body was hammered straight into the floor, a groan of "Ghhk!" escaping his lips.
Open Gate!
SHRRRRIP! SHRRIP!
As six tentacle-blades lunged for the monster's eyes and heart, the creature leapt backward in a blur and evaded them all.
"Tch."
Kajan staggered upright, cleared his throat, and wiped his mouth.
"Nasty chimera. I'm not sure we can beat it on our own."
The monster was whirling around them, running its four pairs of limbs like a spider across floor, wall, and ceiling alike, exploiting every inch of the cramped space with terrifying mastery.
"Kajan!"
Simon raised both hands.
"I need five minutes to prepare a curse — hold it for me!"
"On it."
Without a single question, Kajan hurled himself at the monster. As he and the creature crashed together in a ferocious tangle, Simon drew a deep breath and pushed his concentration to its peak.
THWACK!
Kajan's elbow drove into the back of the monster's skull. The female half's head slammed down toward the floor — but out of nowhere, a jointed arm on the opposite side swung down and clobbered Kajan, sending his body flying into the wall.
"Physical attacks are nearly useless against it...!"
Kajan staggered out of the impact and stared down at his own fingernails.
Time to use Fang.
The male half's fist plowed along the floor toward him. Kajan's eyes went wide — then he made his call.
Jet-Black Robe!
A wave of Jet-Black enveloped Kajan's body as he took the incoming chimera fist head-on. Shoved skidding backward, he anchored himself through sheer force, then whipped his drawn-back right arm around.
⟨ Kajan Original — Fang ⟩
A massive slash of grey light tore across the monster's heart and torso, leaving claw-marks in its wake.
But—
"!"
The claws hadn't cut deep, and the wounds were already knitting shut.
Even when I shear through skin and muscle, the blood inside moves like steel.
A liquid with that kind of hardness. The blood was granting the creature absolute resistance to every attack.
"Kajan! It's ready!"
Simon charged in, curse circles blooming across both palms. The Fang wounds had been fairly deep after all, and the monster was sluggish, focused on its own regeneration.
Simon vaulted high and slapped a magic circle onto the male half's head.
Next!
Riding the monster's shoulder, he sprinted toward the female side. It stretched out an arm to block him, but Kajan flew in and knocked the blow aside with his fist.
Simon planted the circle safely on the female half's head and leapt skyward. There in midair he spun to face the monster, flung both arms out, and sealed the curse.
⟨ Hostile ⟩
The curse took hold.
The male half's fist, hurtling straight at Simon, veered mid-strike and hammered into the female half's face instead.
CRUNCH!
Attacked by its own body, the female half swung its fist right back at the male.
THWACK! THUD! CRAAACK! WHUMP!
The single-bodied monster began savagely brawling with itself, its own limbs whipping against each other in a furious brawl.
"...What a terrifying curse. Where did you learn that?"
"From Professor Bahil!"
The two of them slipped past the brawling monster and pushed onward.
And the moment they reached nearly the end of the corridor—
"...!"
They could hardly believe their eyes.
"Wh-what... what is all this?"