The Archmage's Plea
A poison had been sown among the assassins.
It crept through them slowly, patiently, eating away at the inside of their skulls.
The instant they heard that Number Five—Gary—was dead, the assassins clamped their mouths shut. There was no trace of resistance left in them. They simply fell in behind X and followed, meek as lambs.
Circe watched them trail along so obediently and quietly asked,
"X, is it really okay to just leave them like that?"
"They're valuable informants. We need to squeeze every last drop out of them."
"Can't you just pull the information with that ability of yours? Hauling assassins around with us is way too dangerous."
Circe knew that X had some special method of extracting information. As far as she was concerned, that meant there was no reason to take the risk of keeping assassins in tow.
"Unfortunately, it isn't something I can use without limit. The conditions have to be right, too."
X would have liked nothing more than to do exactly as she suggested. It simply wasn't possible.
Reattaching Observer's Perspective cost 10,000 Editing Points.
On top of that, the Empire's regional scenario had been completed—which meant anyone belonging to the Empire was no longer subject to the System's influence.
Gary and Fertad, unfortunately, were both imperial.
"The only one I can dig through right now is Atel. If Gary and Fertad don't volunteer the information themselves, we won't learn a thing."
"Still, leaving that assassin Gary back there doesn't sit right with me. These people aren't demons, I know that, but the assassins in the Demon Realm were obsessive. Relentless."
Contrary to what he had told the assassins, X had not killed Gary. Gary was simply isolated under the watch of the skeleton soldiers, going nowhere.
The blood on the dagger had been X's own—he'd stabbed himself to produce it. Holy power would heal the wound easily enough. It had been a small piece of theater, nothing more, staged to drive the intimidation home.
"The initiative is ours either way. Even if he gets lucky and escapes, there's no way out of this place that doesn't go through us."
The situation was under control.
All they had to do now was keep moving forward.
If only the thing standing in their path would let them.
"What in the world is that…?"
"…There are far too many of them."
Day three of the expedition. The scouts had found something that was not right at all.
On the road leading toward the dungeon's heart, they came upon a column so long it defied belief—skeleton soldiers marching somewhere in numbers that easily rivaled a full legion.
It was a force of an entirely different order from the hundred-man company X had fought before.
"A force this size shouldn't have been able to gather already…"
In this place, wandering soldiers clustered together as time passed. Once their numbers swelled into companies, then legions, they became enemies no one could reasonably handle.
It was a patch on the setting, an answer to the obvious question: Why not just sit in one spot and keep amassing troops?
Even so, this is too fast. There was already a hundred-man company on the first day. What is going on in here?
The one mercy was that the legion was heading toward the fortress.
If things went well, they might collide with the fortress garrison and chew each other down.
"Or they might just join the fortress army as they are."
"…That would be rather horrifying."
X found himself thinking, unbidden, of his luck stat.
His luck was [0.0]. The worst possible outcome was all but guaranteed.
They needed a contingency, and they needed it now.
We need something that will make them fight each other.
The conclusion came easily. A method did not.
When skeleton forces met, they did one of two things:
They fought until one side's commander was slain—
Or someone became commander without a battle at all.
The problem was that nobody knew the exact conditions that decided which.
If I could just figure out those conditions…
That was when a scout skeleton came rattling back.
Clack— clack—
One unidentified subject. Approaching this position. Threat level: unknown.
The scout relayed the suspicious information through a series of hand signals.
Threat level unknown meant the subject was not a hostile. Still, it would need to be confirmed.
"Circe, shall we go take a look?"
"Lead the way."
X and Circe followed the scout.
When they arrived, a unit of scout soldiers had something surrounded, weapons leveled.
A robe and a staff…?
The figure looked strangely familiar. It did not take long to place.
"Is that the elite mage we fought yesterday?"
"It's not just one that looks the same?"
"I couldn't say for certain, but I have a feeling it isn't."
Elites were not common. They were individuals with a strong degree of autonomy—and a commensurate degree of power. Gaining one would have been more than welcome.
"Everyone, lower your weapons. Bring him in and station him somewhere suitable, and—"
X was still issuing orders to the scouts when Circe grabbed his arm.
"…X. Look at that."
She pointed at the elite. X looked—and his eyes went wide. He was staring at something he had never expected to see.
A soft hiss of light.
The elite mage drew a finger horizontally through empty air.
Geometric symbols of light carved themselves along the path of that fingertip.
The shapes of those symbols resembled an ancient language both of them knew well, and X understood their meaning with perfect precision.
"Art thou, perhaps, our distant descendants?"
The elite skeleton mage had spoken to them.
And the one speaking was a mage who used the ancient tongue.
"This old man is Chairman of the Imperial Capital's Astronomical Magical Instrument Society of the illustrious Magic Empire Magia, and Chief Advisory Officer of the Capital's Grand Magical Strategy, and of the Imperial Society for the Promotion of Magical Prosperity…"
"I can tell you were someone extraordinary in the past, so if at all possible, a shorter summary would be appreciated."
"This old man's name is Melius Sieghart Anius Sapientum Volde Cassias."
"…And that means what, exactly?"
"It means 'the Archmage Melius, son of Sieghart of the Anius family, born in Cassias.' You may simply call me Melius."
That was a long meaning. So long, in fact, that writing it out with a finger had taken three full lines of text.
And that was only the beginning. The pile of things that needed addressing was a mountain.
"The Magic Empire Magia…? An Archmage…? What is all of this? And how are you even understanding what I'm saying?"
"I understand the desire to have this old man resolve thy doubts, but a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. More to the point, the young lady beside thee wears an expression most unsettled—hardly the moment for the two of us to converse at leisure."
Melius was right. Circe was barely keeping a lid on an excitement that threatened to boil over.
"An ancient Magic Empire! An ancient Archmage! Ancient magic!"
To a mage, ancient magic was all but a miracle of the gods.
It was a chance to uncover the secrets of artifacts that modern magic could not even begin to reproduce—a chance to advance the entire field by generations in a single stroke.
For Circe, who was so sincere in her research that she had earned the name of Sage, the inability to hold back was understandable.
But what mattered right now was getting out of here.
"Circe, please restrain yourself. We have priorities."
"I know that…! But he's a living witness to ancient magic…!"
"I'm the only one who can even talk to him anyway."
"Just think of it as saving a life and help me out here! Do you have any idea how rare a chance like this is? A chance to unravel the secrets of ancient magic? This is the one opportunity that could rewrite history!"
"I'll help you later, so please calm down for now. I'll keep interpreting, so there's no need to rush me."
While X was busy soothing Circe's frenzy, Melius rattled his jawbone in what looked for all the world like a good-natured laugh.
"Hohoho. I know not what the young lady is saying, but it would appear her questions for this old man outnumber the treasures piled in a dragon's lair. Thou shalt have thy work cut out for thee."
"Yes, well… First, introductions. My name is X de Dritania, and this is Kirke Odyssey."
"Shorter names than I expected. Surely thou art not of slave stock? Seeing as thou wieldest both blade and sorcery—a gladiator, perhaps?"
"Neither Circe nor I are slaves. Slavery has been abolished. In this era, the conventions of naming have been simplified."
"What's that? No slaves? Then who, pray, raises the magnificent buildings and the great canals?"
"People who aren't slaves, I would imagine. In any case, let's leave that there. This is neither the place nor the time to satisfy every curiosity."
X cut the rambling conversation short.
It was time to talk about something that actually mattered.
"Lord Melius, what business brought you to us?"
That Melius had come to talk, X already knew.
What he did not know was why an unidentified mage from antiquity would seek them out like this. And as a skeleton, no less.
At the question, Melius composed himself with genuine gravity.
"I have come to request thy aid in resolving the anomaly unfolding in this place. We gathered soldiers to put the matter to rest ourselves—but regrettably, thy assault scattered them."
"I beg your pardon…? Don't tell me the mage skeleton that died in yesterday's battle was you, Lord Melius?"
"That is so. The skull thee brought down by thy cunning stratagem was none other than myself."
That was unexpected.
X had thought the resemblance was uncanny. He had not imagined it was the same person.
Melius kept writing in the air, filling in the gaps in X's understanding.
"This place is called the Battlefield of Glory. Those whose souls are bound here must fight upon this field without end, until the mission given them is fulfilled. To hone the arts of war. To seize victory in the last war that will one day come."
"…Is that a curse?"
"Not in the least! Every soul laid to rest here is a proud warrior who gathered of their own will, for the mission they were given. Not one among them was brought by force. I stake my name, my history, and my very soul upon that."
It was precious information.
Background born from a gap in Probability that the original setting had never filled.
To X, it was as valuable as anything he had ever learned.
"We had to stand against an evil that would destroy the world. And yet that being could not be wholly extinguished, even by the full might of the brilliant and boundless Magic Empire. We were certain that the incarnation of destruction called the Demon King would one day rise again."
"The Demon King…"
"O children of a later age. I ask thee, if I may—does the Demon King exist in this era as well?"
"He does. The Demon King has returned, and the world stands on the brink of ruin."
"Oh, dear me… So the words of the Great Wisdom were true after all…"
Melius lamented, pressing a hand to his brow.
He was a skull, and so he had no expression—but it was easy enough to guess how thoroughly the Demon King had tormented him.
"So even after thousands of years, the Demon King does not vanish. Even time—the ultimate destruction that grinds down all of nature—cannot unmake him. That much is now proven… This is most unwell…"
Melius let out a sigh that had no breath behind it, then turned the writing back toward X with something like apology.
"The conversation has wandered. Forgive me. The heart of the matter is this: an anomaly now grips the Battlefield of Glory, one grave enough that the place can no longer serve its original purpose. If thou wouldst aid in resolving it, I shall grant whatever thou desirest. I swear it upon my name."
"What kind of anomaly would make you go that far? When we fought before, Lord Melius, you were a mage far beyond me. Is this something even you cannot resolve?"
"To my shame, that is so. Well… there is that, and the resolution of this anomaly is not a matter that strength alone can settle. In that sense, this old man saw a possibility in thee. And so I ask thee, most earnestly."
Melius bowed his head, careful and deeply courteous.
"…General Magnus? Who is that?"
"The general who holds the Fortress of the Eternal Battlefield. O Magnus! A great commander who held the line unshaken even in a war of annihilation against the Demon King's armies, which came on like a tide out of hell."
"And you're asking us, out of nowhere, to put a man like that to rest? Why? From the sound of it, he was someone enormously important."
At that, Melius hesitated for a long time.
Long enough that X began to wonder if he had simply died mid-sentence.
Then the light carved itself into the air once more.
"General Magnus has become a Death Knight."
Melius delivered news that should not have been possible.