The Geniuses Gather
Margel Randolph had never been caught in his entire life.
It was all thanks to his signature dark magic, the Doppelgänger.
Margel single-handedly managed a multitude of hideouts scattered across the nation, and every single hideout had a Margel sitting inside it. Not even his own subordinates knew which one was the true body.
This was possible because of the Doppelgänger magic circle he had personally developed. To keep his distant doppelgängers sustained, he had laid maintenance circles into the floors of every hideout.
And in an underground hideout in a province called Dupri, not far from Farona, Margel sat once again in his chair.
"Boss. The item the young master sent has arrived."
"Bring it in."
Grreeeeeek!
An organization member appeared, dragging in a wheeled cart. Atop the cart sat a large wooden crate.
"Open it."
Creak!
The moment the member lifted the lid, there it was — the very skull of Deimos that had been kept in the museum.
"It's definitely the genuine article."
The member bowed his head and reported. Margel ran his tongue across his lips with a satisfied smile.
"Good. Where's Malcolm?"
"The young master sent only the item, sir. He did not come himself."
Malcolm was suspected of leaking the organization's information to outsiders. This was defiance, unmistakably — and further still, it was betrayal of the organization.
Though in the end, he had bent the knee to the trap Margel himself had laid in wait.
"Boss. Are you truly planning to make Young Master Malcolm the successor?"
A white-haired man, called Number Two, spoke gravely.
"Ever since we learned the secret tying him to his mother, every move he makes has been suspicious."
"I know. That's why I tested him."
Margel rested his chin on his hand.
"He succeeded in the mission, but he failed my test. Find Malcolm. If you can't find him, seize his mother and bring her here. Then he'll come running on his own."
"Understood."
"He couldn't have gone far from Farona. Store the item in the warehouse."
"Yes, sir!"
The members took hold of the cart's handles once more — and at that very instant,
Chiiiiiiiiiii!
Smoke began to rise from the skull's eye sockets.
"Wh-what—!"
The two members standing nearest collapsed on the spot.
"Careful! Poison smoke!"
The members hastily pulled out handkerchiefs and clamped them over their mouths. Margel did the same.
BANG!
Simultaneously, the underground chamber's door blew apart, and a flash of light streaked through the darkness.
⟨ Exanimis ⟩
WHAM! THUD!
Three members caught in the spreading blast were hurled over a dozen meters and slammed into the wall.
"It's been a while, Margel."
Thud. Thud.
Four men were walking into the underground chamber.
They moved freely through the poison haze — apparently having already taken the antidote. And the slender man in the fedora walking at their center radiated an aura one did not dare approach.
"Margel. I'm placing you under arrest for the use and distribution of illegal explosives — and for the Farona terror attack."
Margel's expression twisted.
"...Sasaila."
Sasaila Beldivier.
One of the representative necromancers of the Baldwin Kingdom, bearing the epithet 'Spear of the Kingdom.'
"That makes six times now I've come up empty thanks to your doppelgängers."
Sasaila smiled as he lowered the modern walking-stick focus in his hand.
"Let's hope this seventh is the charm."
"You insolent little—!"
At that moment, a white-haired gang member who had been lying in wait in the darkness kicked off the floor and lunged. His razor-sharp dagger was arcing toward the back of Sasaila's neck when—
Thunk!
A grey-haired man stepped in front of Sasaila.
Trrrrmble—
With nothing but his index and middle fingers, he caught the oncoming dagger dead in its tracks. No matter how hard the gang member strained, the blade would not budge.
"G-guhh!"
"Dispose of him, Kajan."
CRACK!
Before Sasaila's command had even finished leaving his lips, the grey-haired man drove a fist into the gang member's abdomen. The man's body folded with a 'Hurk!', blood spraying from his mouth.
The grey-haired man seized the vomiting man's head with both hands and then—
SLAM!
—brought his own head down on it like a hammer. The gang member's eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the floor foaming at the mouth.
"Haha! That's our Kajan."
Sasaila laughed in satisfaction, but Kajan, sensing this was no time for praise, coolly pointed a finger ahead.
Ssssssssssss—
In the meantime, Margel had manifested more than forty of his doppelgängers.
"You got the real one this time, huh!"
Sasaila, far from discouraged, actually clapped his hands in delight.
"And it's all thanks to that informant of yours."
Margel's eyes sharpened.
"...Who tipped off my location?"
"Asking about an informant's identity would be rude, Margel."
Margel's brows twitched, but he soon exhaled a long breath and recovered his composure.
"Fine. It makes no difference either way."
The forty doppelgängers lowered their stances and stirred up their Jet-Black.
"Did you truly think finding my real body would be enough to take me? All I have to do is beat you all down and slip away."
Sasaila smirked and raised his index finger.
⟨ Life Link ⟩
A curse of crimson thread shot from his fingertip and latched onto the doppelgänger at the very front. Then ten more threads spread from behind that doppelgänger's back, connecting to other bodies — and the chain repeated.
Forty doppelgängers now hung caught in a crimson spiderweb. Sasaila withdrew his hand.
"Kajan."
"Yes."
Kajan lengthened his nails and swept them through the empty air.
SHING!
Sshhhrrrrring!
Shrrrring!
Claw marks bloomed across all forty doppelgängers' bodies almost simultaneously, and one by one they vanished — leaving only the true Margel, doubled over and retching blood, a wound gouged across his chest.
"Hurk!"
CRACK!
Kajan closed the distance like a bullet and buried his fist in Margel's jaw. Blood poured from his mouth as several teeth glittered into the air.
"You bastard!!"
Blood streaming down his chin, Margel dug in his heels and held his ground, thrusting his fingers out in a savage arc.
"Exanim—!"
CRUNCH!
His index finger bent skyward without warning. The curse struck nothing but the innocent ceiling above.
"Refríngo."
Sasaila's curse had activated far faster.
"A curse that snaps your fingers."
Crunch! Crunch! As ten finger joints danced on their own, Margel let out a horrible scream.
Then Kajan seized the back of Margel's skull and drove it hard into the underground chamber's floor—
THUD!
Margel went quiet.
"Good work, everyone! Good work all around!"
Sasaila clapped his hands together. The two necromancers who had come along headed deeper to search the facility, while the personnel waiting outside the door filed in and began binding the unconscious gang members.
"You've had a rough time of it too, Kajan."
Kajan quietly hooked a finger under his robe's hood and pulled it low over his head.
"Spare me the pleasantries. Just make sure my fee gets paid."
"But of course."
Kajan turned and left the underground chamber without another word.
Having slipped calmly out of the Randolph gang's hideout, Kajan walked the crowded streets of the city's downtown. He then settled at an outdoor table of a decent-looking restaurant and ordered wine and cheese.
Pop.
Deftly removing the cork, he poured wine into his glass and spoke.
"Margel's been taken. Malcolm."
The robed man sitting at the next table slowly turned around.
"...Thank you, Senior."
"Just call me Kajan. So — any regrets? He was your father, after all."
"None."
Malcolm chewed slowly on a strip of jerky, then added:
"Not one."
The informant — the one who had contributed most to putting Margel behind bars — had been none other than Malcolm himself.
The moment Malcolm resolved to betray Margel, he had gone straight to the Thieves' Guild. It was obvious the Baldwin Kingdom would be desperate to capture Margel, the presumed mastermind of the Farona incident. So he knew that if he leaked the information to the Thieves' Guild, it would flow to Baldwin on its own.
Just as Malcolm predicted, the Thieves' Guild moved immediately. The matter was so high-stakes that Kajan, who happened to be nearby, had handled it personally.
"By the way — how did you know? That the Margel in this city's hideout was the real one."
"I examined the organization's ledgers."
Malcolm shrugged.
"My father — no. Margel uses a special magic circle to sustain his doppelgängers over long distances. Naturally, that requires expensive magic materials. And today was a consumption day, yet one hideout still had stock left over."
"I see."
Only Malcolm, a Doppelgänger user himself, could have worked that out. Kajan turned his head.
"So what now?"
"..."
Malcolm tilted his head back with a long sigh.
"With Margel arrested, the organization will scatter to the winds. But someday, they'll learn that I'm the one who betrayed him. And then my mother's life will be in danger. Anyone who's set foot in this underworld is fated to be bound up in blood revenge."
"That's about the size of it."
"To protect my mother, I have to take control of the underworld myself. I need more power."
His fists clenched tight.
— Endure, keep enduring, and the day will come when you rise again.
Recalling that godforsaken voice, Malcolm closed his eyes.
"I want to go back to Kizen. Senior."
"You crazy bastard."
Kajan growled around a mouthful of cheese.
"You changed your mind all you like, but you're still a member of the organization. Your sins don't just vanish."
"I know. Nobody knows better than I do that I'm garbage. Even so, I don't know how to live any other way."
"..."
Kajan popped the last of the cheese into his mouth, took hold of the half-finished wine bottle, and rose to his feet.
"The information saying you were involved in Farona."
"?"
"I'll bury it. In exchange, you keep it strictly secret too."
Kajan walked away with his back turned.
"The fact that I run missions for the Thieves' Guild."
Malcolm stared blankly at the departing figure, then let out a short laugh.
...Missions, my ass.
The Mercenary Guild.
"Good work on the Farona dispatch, Mercenary King!"
"You did great!"
The moment Arthur arrived at the Mercenary Guild, a crowd of comrades showered him with congratulations. He grinned sheepishly and scratched his head.
"Hahaha! A job of this size is simple work once it lands in my hands!"
"Oh, by the way, Arthur."
A female mercenary, who had been issuing orders through the crystal on her bracelet, handed him a single letter.
"A letter came for you."
"A letter, ma'am?"
"Yep. It arrived at a different guild two weeks ago, and they asked us to pass it along."
Arthur tilted his head, examining the front and back of the black envelope. Then, at the emblem engraved upon it, his mouth fell open.
"No way — from Kizen...!"
"Well, that's a surprise! How does a green boy like you recognize that emblem?"
"I saw some Kizen students in Farona — the emblem on their uniforms was exactly the same!"
Arthur tore open the envelope. At the word 'Kizen,' the other mercenaries came crowding up behind him in a rush. Heart pounding, Arthur unfolded the letter inside.
"Good heavens! Arthur's going to Kizen?"
"Well, he does turn seventeen this year."
"Party! It's a party!!"
The mercenaries roared with laughter and hoisted their mugs of black beer. Arthur gave an embarrassed smile.
"Aw, come on~ A mercenary going to school? No thanks! I'll be staying right here, doing mercenary work with all of you—"
"Tell the truth."
The female mercenary jabbed him in the chest.
"Mercenary King title aside — what does your heart actually want?"
"..."
The truth was, even now—
That figure flickered before Arthur's eyes.
— Arthur! Keep going!
That enormous back, glimpsed through a storm of scattering violet lightning.
He could never forget it.
He had thought that he, too, wanted to shine the way that man did.
When Arthur pressed his lips into a straight line, the female mercenary grinned like she'd heard everything and clapped his shoulder.
"Then that settles it! Let's drink to it!"
Everyone in the Mercenary Guild raised their mugs high. The mercenaries on the ground floor — and even those up on the second floor — lifted their cups and turned toward the terrace.
"To our king, and to Kizen's newest Special Admission student! To the shining future of Arthur Bleman!"
"CHEERS!!!"
The mercenaries thrust their mugs skyward in unison and brought them to their lips. Arthur's eyes brimmed with emotion.
"E-everyone...!"
"We'll have plenty of years working together after this — three off is nothing to complain about."
The female mercenary smirked.
"But for the sake of our reputation too, you'd better graduate as the strongest in Kizen. Got it?"
"Of course!"
Arthur smashed his fists together.
"On my grandfather's name, and on the honor of the Mercenary King! I swear I'll come back as the strongest!"
Dresden Royal Palace.
Haaa—
A girl in a dress sat with her eyes closed and her hands folded together.
"O ancestors. O guardian spirits."
With every murmur, the room around her began to stir. The eyes in a portrait painting shifted, and the hands of a clock began turning backward. Flowerpots rattled, and the curtains surged upward.
Just as her concentration approached its peak—
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound of knocking rang out. She startled and opened her eyes, and all the phenomena around her sank back into stillness.
"Yes, come in."
Click.
As the door opened, a dignified middle-aged man with a thick, bushy white beard broke into a knowing smile.
"Molly!"
The princess's eyes filled with delight.
"Father!"
Molly dashed over and threw herself into his arms.
But today the King's expression was a little strange — the look of a man desperately holding back a tickling fit. The maids who had accompanied him were smiling too, their lips twitching with barely contained glee.
"Haha! Molly! Behold what I have brought you!"
The moment Molly saw the black envelope he drew out, her eyes went wide.
"That letter is...!"
With trembling hands, she accepted the envelope. Then she pulled the stiff paper from within and unfolded it.
"F-Father!"
Tears welled up and filled her eyes to the brim.
"Congratulations, Molly! Hohohoho!"
Father and daughter, sharing their joy, embraced each other with all their strength.
Her tearful eyes checked the letter once more. She read it over and over, but every time, the name was Molly's own — no one else's.
'This is it!'
Her gaze turned toward the window.
'I'll be seeing you very soon, Senior Simon!'
Pentamonium.
A short-haired girl in a white patient's gown sat at the edge of a fountain, her surroundings blanketed by countless tendrils of trees and vines.
"So now even my summons can't keep up with you."
A man in a white gown laughed in admiration as he checked off an item on his list. Around him, dozens of skeletons and zombies hung limp, snared in the vines.
"You'll be discharged soon. Your ability is under perfect control now. How does it feel?"
"Good."
She smiled and looked down at the black envelope in her hands.
"Because I'm going to Kizen."
"That you are."
She opened it once again — the same letter she had read over and over until now.
The corners of her mouth lifted.
"Wait for me, Simon, Cami."
The continent's new powerhouse prodigies were gathering at Kizen, one by one.