Naga Uprising
“……”
Malcolm and the red-haired boy stood locked in a standoff. Malcolm wiped the surprise from his face and let a crooked smile slide out.
“What's the big idea, coming at me like this out of nowhere?”
“I had a feeling you'd ask.”
The red-haired boy answered without giving an inch.
“Word that the Randolph Gang had its eyes on the Parona Peninsula reached us some time ago. Your objective is, nine times out of ten, the Deimos skull stored in the museum. And as it happens—”
The sword he raised caught the sunlight and flashed with murderous intent.
“—the son of the Randolph Gang's boss is standing right here at the scene himself. Do you need any further explanation?”
“……Unbelievable.”
Malcolm shrugged his shoulders.
“Then do you know this? Before I'm a Randolph Gang man, I'm a Kiz—”
—It's over. You're never setting foot on Roc Island again.
In that instant, his father's voice surfaced from memory.
The word Kizen—the one he would normally have spat out with his chin high—circled his mouth and died there. His fists trembled.
'Damn it all.'
He wasn't a Kizen student anymore. He wasn't anything. Just a cheap two-bit criminal wearing a gang's colors.
The fact sank into him, sharp as a blade.
“Fine—damn it. Nothing matters anymore.”
Tssssssssss—
Afterimages bloomed across Malcolm's body, and five duplicates identical to him split off and kicked off the ground.
There was no telling real from fake. Not just the faces and clothes—even their stride, their stances, the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed were exactly the same.
The red-haired boy's face flickered with alarm before he sent a sword slash crashing into the Malcolm at the very center.
Thwack!
The central Malcolm, carved clean by the blade, scattered like coal dust. The four remaining Malcolms grinned.
“Moving my real body the instant I cast is Dueling 101. Don't oversimplify things, kid.”
Tssssssssss—
Sssss—
The four Malcolms split once more, becoming eight. The eight split again, becoming sixteen.
“Oh no!”
Surrounded on all sides, the boy whipped his head around. All sixteen Malcolms spoke at once.
“You use a sword, so I'm guessing you're some hired-muscle flunky working for the Parona lord? Well, then.”
Ta-da-da-dash!
Every doppelgänger lunged at the red-haired boy in perfect unison.
“This time, you've picked the wrong man to fight!”
Chaek!
“I am no flunky!”
The boy met the charge head-on, sword leading. With movements stripped of every wasted motion, he cut down two duplicates, then dropped low to evade an attack from behind—and pivoted hard on his rear foot.
“My name is Arthur Bleman!”
The sword slash gleamed like a crescent moon, and six doppelgängers scattered into coal dust in the same breath.
Ta-at!
As his body, carried forward on the blade's edge, froze in the follow-through of a great sweep, countless sword marks tore across every remaining doppelgänger left behind him.
Chak!
He lowered his sword with quiet ease and set the sheath upright.
“As it happens, I have inherited the title of Mercenary King!”
Click!
The instant the blade slid home into its sheath, the sword marks flared as if detonating. Every last doppelgänger crumbled into dust and scattered, gone for nothing.
'……You little bastard.'
Malcolm's brow furrowed deep.
That just now had been jet-black, without a doubt.
'A necromancer, was it?'
And the Mercenary King, at an age like that?
He'd heard the rumors, sure. But was the Mercenary King's name actually Arthur? No matter how he turned it over, he was pretty sure it had been something else.
“Give it up!”
Arthur's slash came down, and the still-dithering Malcolm split neatly in half.
When Arthur clicked his tongue and looked back, there were ten more Malcolms holding the exact same pose.
'I don't know if he's the real Mercenary King or not, but this Arthur guy is stronger than I expected. Subduing him fast won't be easy.'
As Malcolm weighed his options, his gaze slid sideways toward the museum.
'And if Simon Polentia comes running at the sound of all this, it's game over. Time to pull out.'
“I won't fall for the same trick twice!”
Arthur shouted boldly and thrust out his left arm.
Ink-black jet-black poured from his grip and scattered through the air, quickly settling into a single magic circle.
⟨ Moon Head ⟩
Gripping his sword with both hands, Arthur cut straight through the magic circle.
A wind of silver luster fanned out across a wide arc.
Chwa-ak!
Chwa-aaaa-ak!
Every doppelgänger caught inside the range took the hit and vanished.
“Kugh!”
And Malcolm's real body had been among them. With pwsh! pwsh! sounds, cuts opened across his arm and leg and blood spattered free.
'This son of a—! An area attack, too!'
“Found you!”
Arthur dropped low and shot toward Malcolm in an instant.
They were still inside the blade-wind's reach—any doppelgänger he tried now would simply take the hit and evaporate.
“……No way around it, then.”
So saying, Malcolm drew something bottle-shaped from inside his coat.
“You seem to have combed through the Randolph Gang pretty thoroughly. Then you know what this is, don't you?”
Arthur's eyes blew wide mid-charge.
'A Liquid Bomb!'
The gang's proprietary explosive, detonating on contact with jet-black. Malcolm poured his jet-black into it without a moment's hesitation.
Kiiiiiiiing!
A blinding flash erupted violently from the bottle. Arthur slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt.
“W-wait a moment! If you do that, you'll—!”
Malcolm's figure was half-swallowed by the bursting light, but on what little of his face was visible hung a bitter smile.
“It's fine. I'm sick to death of a life like this.”
“N-no, don't!!”
KWAAAAAAA-BOOM!
The Liquid Bomb went off.
The shockwave knocked Arthur flat on his back. A beat late, he tensed his legs, drove his sword into the ground, and raised his head to look forward.
“MALCOLM RANDOLPH!!”
Black smoke was billowing thick over the blast site. Arthur stood frozen for a moment, then dropped to one knee on the ground with a heavy thud.
“You utter idiot!”
He hammered his fist into the ground.
“You could have just paid for your crimes in prison! Who ends their own life?! Was your life so worthless that it was this easy to throw away?!”
Arthur roared himself hoarse, but of course no answer came.
“I only meant to subdue you! The thing about taking your head was a lie too! So why!!”
Again and again he struck the ground, as if punishing himself. After a long while of it, he numbly activated the crystal orb strapped to his arm.
Vmmm.
A blurry silhouette of a woman appeared within the orb.
“…….”
It was apparently a specially modified artifact, because the woman on the other end could see Arthur's side as well. And yet—
The woman in the crystal orb went silent for a long moment as she watched the explosion.
Arthur shot upright in shock.
“R-really?”
Arthur swung his sword to part the drifting smoke, and Malcolm was gone without a trace. Just as the woman said, the damage to the surroundings was also remarkably light for a bombing.
“Wh-what? That can't be right…….”
Arthur made an utterly baffled face.
Arthur hung his head with a sullen look, and the woman flared up like a fire, shouting.
Meanwhile, Simon's group had left the museum behind and were making their way down the market street.
“Oooh! That was fun!”
Meilin, leading the way, stretched her arms up high. Simon glanced at Dick.
“Dick, where to next?”
“I was thinking of checking out the Hill of the Whale ahead of time.”
Camibarez blinked at that.
“Isn't that where we're going tomorrow, when Deimos crosses the sea?”
“It is, but the view's still jaw-dropping even without Deimos. Figured we'd go for a stroll.”
“Hey! If we're going tomorrow anyway, let's just head back to the inn!”
Meilin said, her eyes sparkling.
“Honestly, my head's been bursting with Student Council ideas this whole museum tour—I thought I was going to lose it! Let's hold a meeting at the inn!”
“……The Student Council hasn't even officially started yet. Aren't you taking it a bit too seriously?”
“Obviously we take it seriously!”
Strength gathered in Meilin's shoulders.
“I'm going to carry the entire 330th Student Council on my back! We'll be a legendary council people talk about for years to come!”
“I'm getting tired just listening. Simon, when you make president again in third year, pick a quieter girl for vice president. Lorraine, say.”
“Like you'd still be at Kizen by third year, you 400th-rank commoner!”
“You two, stop fighting—again!”
Simon smiled at the age-old scene playing out before him.
“Cold ice cream over here~”
Just then, a merchant came walking by with an ice cream tub strapped to his back, and Meilin brightened at once.
“Getting a craving for something sweet, huh?”
“Sounds good. Let's buy some.”
“Mister!”
Meilin darted over. The merchant spotted her and smiled.
“Welcome, pretty student!”
“Four ice creams, ple—”
THUD!
Blood fountained from the merchant's body.
Hot blood splashed across her face, and the expressions of Dick and Camibarez, walking behind, went rigid.
—Kyaaak.
Something green was glaring from behind, sharp claws fully extended.
The merchant collapsed, and the thing advanced on Meilin. Drenched in blood without warning, she stood frozen like a statue, unable to move a muscle.
WHAM!
The first to react, as always, was Simon. His kick slammed the monster's arm upward.
Next, Dick recovered his wits, pulled a dagger from his belt, and hurled it. Enchanted blades sank into the monster's body one after another, and Camibarez came leaping in, her light-violet hair streaming behind her.
⟨ Blood Strike ⟩
KWAAM!
The monster, its abdomen smashed by her magic-circle-marked fist, went flying and crashed into a building wall—and Meilin, her eyes blazing savagely, swung her arm.
⟨ Ice Bolt ⟩
KRAKA-KA-KA-KRUNCH!
The monster, skewered at last by Meilin's ice shards, breathed its final breath. Having cast the spell on pure reflex, Meilin wobbled and sank down where she stood.
“M-Meilin!”
Simon rushed over in alarm. She raised her palm—the signal that she was fine.
“Sorry. I was just startled, that's all.”
Murmuring so, she churned her hand through the air. Magic circles completed themselves one after another in midair and hurled shards of ice skyward.
THUD! THWACK! THUD!
When blood came pattering down from above, Simon started and looked up. The other green monsters that had encircled them at some point were all hanging transfixed on ice spikes.
“Aaaagh!”
“Kyaaaaaaah!”
Tourists and merchants caught sight of the monster corpses and fled, screaming.
“Haah, that gave me a fright.”
Meilin grumbled as she walked over and examined the fallen monster.
“It's a Naga. They live in the sea, but they can walk on land too. The weak ones are Danger Rank 2, the strong ones go up to Rank 3. But what are they doing in a city?”
Camibarez had her eyes closed and was sniffing the air.
“Simon! There's the same smell of blood coming from everywhere. The nagas are assaulting the entire Parona Peninsula!”
After a moment's thought, Simon looked at Dick.
“Dick. Anything come to mind?”
“Hard to say.”
Dick rose to his feet.
“By default, nagas submit absolutely to the commands of a single entity called the 'Naga Queen'—a Rank 5 danger. Their Alpha, if you will. Since nagas bow to the Naga Queen's wavelength and nothing else, they're free even from the waves of Deimos, the so-called ruler of the sea.”
Meilin picked up the thread.
“So for whatever reason, Naga Queens have come to the Parona Peninsula? The queens might even have formed an alliance.”
“Alright.”
Simon said.
“Everyone change into your Kizen uniforms and split into three groups to protect the people.”
“What about you, Simon?”
“I'll range over a wider area, track down the queen, and take her down myself. And—”
Simon's mind was already turning back to a certain man he had glimpsed at the Deimos Museum.
“—there's something I want to confirm.”