The Rats in the Storeroom
"Now I'm finally getting a general sense of it."
Bar, who had been silently listening to Aidan's account, suddenly muttered something cryptic.
"A sense of what? Bar, could you explain so we can actually understand you?"
Bayul asked on the tense Aidan's behalf. Perhaps because of his track record with Bar, Aidan looked genuinely afraid of what might come out of the demon's mouth, practically hanging off Bayul's forearm.
"If that really is Ingrid's feather like you said, then I have a pretty good idea whose bloodline it came from."
"Bloodline... you mean you know the identity of the mother who bore Ingrid—the Metamorph?"
"Yeah. Among the creatures with feathers, there's only one that can adjust its size. Ingrid didn't disappear. It just can't come back yet."
Bar's tone was dripping with conviction.
"Why can't our Ingrid come back? Is something wrong with it right now?"
"Who said anything about that? Try being Ingrid for a moment. Your body suddenly swells up to the size of a house. Could you just waltz back home looking like that? Everyone would scream their heads off."
"...So you're saying our Ingrid has grown to the size of a house?"
Aidan had more or less guessed that Ingrid had grown larger, but not to that degree. The feather Aidan had found was far smaller than that.
"Not yet. But if this drags on, it could get even bigger."
Bar looked down at Aidan with grave eyes as he explained.
"You have to teach it how to shrink. Before its adult form fully develops."
Otherwise, it might not be able to stop growing—and burst apart entirely.
Bar swallowed those last words. There was nothing to gain by frightening the boy further when he was already shaken half to death. He had no desire to hurt the kind soul who had even thrown in donuts as a bonus.
"...Th-then how am I supposed to teach it?"
"That's for you to figure out. Normally it learns from its mother, but yours doesn't have one, does it?"
Ingrid was another Metamorph born from a mutant—twice removed from the original line. That much imperfection meant even Bar, a demon himself, couldn't predict what kind of changes might occur.
For now, the priority was finding the creature as quickly as possible and calming it down. And that was something only Aidan, who shared a communion with Ingrid, could do.
"I've searched everywhere I could think of. But there's nothing. If it got bigger, it should be easier to spot, and yet this one feather is all I managed to grab."
"That's because right now is the most dangerous moment of all."
"...Sorry?"
"For creatures like that, molting is an agonizing ordeal. It leaves them completely defenseless."
"Defenseless?"
"I don't know how it works here, but in the Demon Realm, it's the perfect time to get swarmed. So the ability to hide itself evolves precisely for that reason. You won't find it by ordinary means."
"S-swarmed...!"
Aidan's face went chalk white, as if he had actually pictured Ingrid being hurt.
"Aidan, calm down. This isn't the Demon Realm. Who's going to attack Ingrid here? Nothing's going to happen, all right?"
"I know, but..."
"Let's just hurry and find it. That's all that matters."
Right, Bar? Bayul shot Bar a pleading look, silently begging him to agree.
"Well, there don't seem to be many wild animals around here, so... it won't die, at least."
"It—it won't die?"
After "swarmed," the word death tore through Aidan's mind all over again.
"If it gets through the molt, it can go back to living like before."
Just as most of the demonic beasts that drank from the Springs of Destruction had perished, the offspring of a Metamorph, too, would usually meet its death at the end of the molt—even if it survived every external threat unscathed.
But for the sake of Aidan's state of mind, Bar held his tongue about this as well.
"Bar, please help us."
Bayul had no one else to lean on but Bar—a demon and a Beast Tamer. If anyone would know exactly where Ingrid was hiding, it was him.
"Hm, those troublesome young masters again."
Bar shook his head as if he had no choice in the matter—even though he'd already made up his mind to help (the donuts had won him over long ago).
"In exchange, you'll have to put in a good word with Master Rita for me."
"Of course."
For this moment alone, Bayul was confident he could cover up any mistake Bar might make.
"Hmm, then where shall we look?"
Nothing could begin until they got out of here. Bar suddenly pointed a finger at the very top of the mansion.
"We'll get a better view from up there."
"Really? Aidan, is it okay for us to go up there?"
"Of course it is! Come on, let's move!"
There was no time to waste. If anything happened to Ingrid, Aidan would never forgive himself. Burning with resolve, he led the group quickly toward the spot Bar had pointed out.
"Hah... hah..."
Fortunately, everyone was in decent shape, and they made it to the top in one go. Naturally, the Death brothers hadn't so much as ruffled their breathing. The only ones panting were Aidan and Bayul.
"Hup!"
Bar leapt clean onto the railing and perched there.
"Careful!"
A fall from here meant certain death. Startled, Aidan shouted a warning, but Bar paid him no mind. Instead, he closed his eyes and focused his magic power.
Where are you hiding...
The geography of the entire district unfolded across Bar's mind like a painting. Slowly, methodically, he swept his gaze down through the image. It was when he reached the center—the point where the mansion stood—that his eyes snapped open.
"There it is!"
"You've already found it?"
"Where is it?"
Half hope, half dread, Bayul and Aidan cried out at the same time.
"Below."
"...Sorry?"
"It's crouched in the basement. Trembling in absolute terror."
You can sense even that?
Under normal circumstances, Aidan would have made a fuss over how incredible that was, but now was no time for gawking. The moment he heard Ingrid was terrified, his legs were already moving.
"Is this where the goods are stored?"
The mansion was so grand that he'd suspected as much, but the basement was equally vast. Beyond the sheer expanse, the ceiling soared impossibly high. Wooden pillars, braces, and ladders crisscrossed overhead like an enormous spiderweb.
"It's awfully bright down here, though."
"That's thanks to the glowstone."
"This is a critical storage site where every item our trading house distributes is kept."
"We need to go this way, but the path's blocked. Which direction should we take?"
Everything was as neatly organized as it was above ground, but the labyrinthine layout made the route hard to find.
"I'll take the lead."
Aidan decided to chart their course according to wherever Bar pointed.
"Hm? What is that pathetic little energy?"
Just then, Bar suddenly frowned and tilted his head.
"What's wrong, Bar?"
"Something is crowded together over there, but I can't tell what it is."
It was an energy he'd never felt before. It seemed quite angry, yet for all its fury, the power itself was utterly feeble.
"Aidan, let's move faster."
If Bar had sensed it, it was almost certainly the presence of animals. They had to get there before anything harmed Ingrid.
"Hold on."
Aidan glanced around, darted off, and returned with a stick he'd picked up from somewhere.
"Just in case."
Bar had said something was there, so he needed something to defend himself with. White-knuckled around the stick, Aidan set off again.
One blessing was that the deeper they went, the fewer workers they encountered. With no telling what sort of scene they might stumble into, it was best to have as few eyes on them as possible.
"We're almost there."
Bar stared sharply into the darkness ahead. Unlike the corridors they had passed through, the glowstone hung here only sparsely, leaving the way forward barely visible.
"This is where the surplus inventory gets stored. It's darker because people don't come here often... So is our Ingrid really in there?"
"It's the perfect place to hide, I'll give it that."
Pitch black, with hardly a soul ever passing through. The creature had done well to pick a spot it normally never went near.
Spinel, could you light things up for me?
Bayul recalled those nights he'd gone out flying in Hamilton and asked Spinel out of sheer habit.
—Of course, Bayul.
Spinel, who had been trailing quietly behind him all this while, answered at once and sent a blaze of flame surging forward.
Whoosh!
"Wah! You scared me!"
The sudden burst of flame startled Aidan, already wound tight as a spring, and he leapt a full foot in the air.
"Ah, sorry. I should have warned you first, but I was in a rush..."
"No, no, it's fine, Bayul. Happens to anyone. Wow, it's so bright and—wait, no. What is this? You're not even a mage—how are you making fire like this? Don't tell me...?"
"Yeah, that's right. It's a fire spirit. I met it in Hamilton."
"Whoa! Seriously?"
"I've got a lot to tell you too. I'll explain everything properly later."
If he told Aidan that Spinel had already evolved into an Intermediate Spirit the moment it appeared, there would be no end to the commotion. It was easier all around to make the formal introductions after the Ingrid situation was settled.
"Okay, got it. Ingrid matters more right now anyway."
He was dying to know what a fire spirit looked like, what kind of personality it had—but that could wait until Ingrid was safely back. Aidan refocused and pressed forward.
"Finally here."
Bar stopped before a door marked NO ENTRY and jerked his chin at it.
"It's in there. I've been muffling the sound, so it doesn't know we're coming."
"Thank you, Bar."
The moment this door opened, he would see Ingrid again.
He worried over how much the little creature had grown, but at the same time he wanted to see it soon, whatever it looked like. Only then would this gnawing dread finally release its grip.
His heart pounded like a drum. Aidan swallowed hard and slowly pushed the door inward.
Perhaps it was nerves, but despite Bar's claim about muffling the sound, Aidan felt nothing out of the ordinary at all.
"Now then, shall I see for myself what this pathetic little energy is?"
Thanks to Bar's efforts, the wooden door slid open without a sound. Spinel's flame slipped in first, gliding across the room to light the interior.
Ki-heek! Ki-heek-heek!
"Wh-what the—?"
The first thing to seize the group's attention was the rats. Dozens—no, easily more than a hundred of them—screeched in alarm at the group's sudden appearance, whipping their heads toward the entrance in unison.
Squeak-squeak! Kyahahaak!
Apparently caught completely off guard by figures appearing without a sound, the rats' cries swelled louder and louder.
"...Where did all these rats even come from?"
It looked as though every rat in the vicinity had been gathered into one place.
"These are rats?"
"Why are they so tiny?"
"They're barely bigger than my fist."
The rats of the Demon Realm were at least ten times this size. As Bar clicked his tongue in disbelief at having finally identified the source of that pathetic little energy, Aidan let out a scream.
"Ingrid!"
Only then did the creature come into view—huddled in the corner, trembling violently. Its body had swollen dozens of times over, but mercifully, its appearance hadn't changed at all. Surrounded by the swarm of rats, it was locked in a battle against sheer terror.
"How dare these things corner our Ingrid!"
Aidan's eyes rolled back with fury. Beyond all restraint now, he swung his stick and charged straight into the swarm.
"Heh! To think the spawn of a Metamorph would huddle and shake, besieged by mere rats!"
Bar, for his part, was so dumbfounded that a baffled laugh burst out of him.