Madri Is Missing
Once he had taken in Enzo Muete's physical information, it did not take long for Messi to feel the advantages settling into his flesh. They fell, broadly, into two kinds.
The first was a body of terrifying strength.
Enzo Muete's muscle, fiber, nerves, bone, and balance did not belong to the human world at all. They belonged to something closer to the heavens. There had been a reason his master had praised the creature until his mouth wore thin.
Even now, the grip in Messi's hands was enough to shatter stone. The urge to pick a day, throw every ounce of himself into it, and simply smash something to pieces was already rising in him. What would happen if even a fraction of the force that had burst knights apart with a casual swing took root in his own body? The thought sent a chill across his skin.
It was not only power. Flexibility and sensation were changing too. He felt as though he could take any posture he wished; every step landed unnaturally light. He could almost believe he might kick off gravity itself and climb. At times he even wondered whether he was drawing on mana without knowing it.
The second was an innate resistance to magic.
As if he had donned an invisible suit of armor meant for spells alone, a force had bloomed across his skin that shed mana the way oil refuses water. At this level, he suspected he could take a low-circle attack spell on the body and simply let it roll off. He was beginning to understand where the monstrous magic resistance of troll-kind actually came from.
And yet it did not hinder him in the slightest when he drew mana in for his cultivation method. If anything, his circuits felt sturdier and wider than before, and the speed at which power gathered was only increasing.
This was a body that defied common sense.
The gulf between this and the physical information he had taken from Gaston or the Ahental knights was staggering. But if all of it slammed into him at once, the upheaval would be catastrophic. Excess was no virtue — too much of a good thing was still too much.
Which was why his body seemed determined to adapt as slowly as it could, screaming at its master by instinct that a great deal of time and effort would be required before the change could settle without rejection.
He clenched his fist. Every muscle in his arm surged and shuddered, chaotic, as if they still had not found their purpose.
This is too much for me to digest all at once.
He felt the need for a long stretch of years in his bones. He was not worried. Time and potential were the only assets he possessed, and he was prepared to endure as long as it took to make use of them.
Three years. Five. I don't care. Just digest it completely.
How closely could his body come to resemble Enzo Muete? The gap between species would impose some kind of ceiling... but if he could match even half of it, he would be satisfied. Anything beyond that was more than he had any right to hope for. For now, it was greed.
He was still lost in thought, inspecting the interior of his own body, when Ereb's voice carried across the hall, shouting orders at the knights.
"We split into three teams! Team One searches out an escape route and secures it. Team Two finds and secures any treasure still inside the ruins. Team Three gathers the woodcutters' remains and our fallen comrades in one place. Safety first, all of you. If you find anything unusual, or another monster, do not approach — fall back and report. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
Messi started forward to join one of the teams, but Ramang stopped him.
"You rest."
"Pardon?"
"You've done more than enough. The order is to sit this one out. The knights agreed."
Huh? Had something shifted in their hearts? Until now they had been itching to put him to work. Why the sudden change?
The knights clapped him once on the shoulder as they passed, as if to say it was all right. Not a bad sign. Resting this time might actually be fine.
Besides... there won't be any treasure left. Anything of value would have been stripped out ages ago.
The Lumberjack Alliance had covered up the deaths of forty-five woodcutters and declared the Forest of Resentment a forbidden zone. They had specifically announced the ruins as the place where those forty-five had died, cutting off all human traffic.
When no one knew what lay inside, Messi had assumed the unknown danger was reason enough. But they would have received a clear report from the seven survivors that five Enzo Muete were here — and they had sealed the place anyway. That was strange.
Because the Lumberjack Alliance was afraid of Enzo Muete? Impossible.
Two possibilities remained.
One: based on the seven men's testimony, they had judged the ruins not worth committing their full strength. Poor return for the effort, so they shut it down.
The other: they had already achieved whatever they came for, and had no desire to mobilize their forces just to deal with the Great Magic Barrier and five Enzo Muete. Doing so would expose the ruins' value to rival factions — and expose whatever they had already taken.
Messi weighted the latter more heavily. If it had been the former, there would have been no conspiracy grave enough to drive his master to his death.
So what, then, had that "achievement" been?
He had a feeling the answer was somewhere in this wrecked hall. The seven who had fled for their lives would not have had the presence of mind to go treasure-hunting. They would have grabbed whatever was already in the hall and run.
But even that alone was valuable enough that they were satisfied and sealed this place. Rather than reveal the ruins to other factions and expose everything they'd gained, they chose to hide the site and monopolize what they already had.
So what had been in this hall? The guess was easy enough.
Kkyu, you said this was a temple from five or six thousand years ago. So what's with this laboratory atmosphere?
That's what's been bothering me, kkyu. Five or six thousand years ago, the concept of magic engineering didn't even exist... It feels like someone set up a research lab inside the temple, kkyu.
A lab inside a temple?
He was only voicing what the princess had already sensed, but it really did feel that way. A laboratory. Then there would have been research materials.
Messi picked a sheet of paper off the floor and scanned it. It was written in words and symbols he had never seen — but reading it was no problem. He had a translator.
It's Yagran Language, used mainly about two thousand years ago, kkyu. Just as I thought — documents related to magic engineering, kkyu.
What's magic engineering?
Alchemy, Genesis Sorcery, that sort of thing, kkyu. The discipline of creating new substances or life through magic is magic engineering, kkyu.
His interest was piqued. Gathering the research notes scattered across the floor produced a reasonably thick stack. He had no idea how much there had originally been, but if the seven survivors had scraped the place clean, there would have been far more.
When he showed what remained to the princess, she reported that the contents did not connect — they were too fragmentary, and the research was incomplete as a result. The keywords that kept recurring, however, were the same: Genesis Sorcery, and God's Emissary.
So what we can infer is... a researcher from two thousand years ago set up a laboratory in these ancient ruins and tried to create a God's Emissary?
A God's Emissary. Naturally, that would be something a god had made. The researcher had been trying to imitate a god's handiwork.
To copy a creation a god had personally shaped? A body molded by a god...
...Enzo Muete?
Messi flinched.
Only then did he look at the four fallen Enzo Muete corpses and the one still twitching on the floor. He thought, too, of the three Enzo Muete that wandered endlessly through the Forest of Resentment. Slot those creatures into the picture, and everything lined up.
"So that's why this was your home..."
The enormous crystal vat abandoned at the back of the hall fit as well. Anyone could see it had been used to culture something huge. It resembled a modern laboratory closely enough that Messi could not miss the parallel.
The method for making Enzo Muete was here.
Which meant the technique for producing them had already passed into the Lumberjack Alliance's hands... What on earth did they intend to do with it? Creating monsters would only give them more things they had to deal with themselves. He could not understand why that would be a secret worth driving his master to his death to keep.
Why does the Lumberjack Alliance need Enzo Muete? What do they mean to use them for?
If they made it outside, this was something he would have to uncover. It would be a promising path — one that might bring him a step closer to the truth of his master's death.
As if on cue, Ereb came toward him, grinning, the man who would lead them back out.
"Kahaha! Messi. Aren't you excited? Just how incredible do you think the treasure in here is going to be?"
"The treasure, you say...?"
"It was guarded by Enzo Muete, wasn't it? Something enormous has to be waiting for us!"
Awkward. This young lord would never know that the Enzo Muete that had dragged them to the brink of death was the treasure...
Messi looked at Ereb's delighted face and decided to say nothing at all.
Team One reported they had found a way out. Team Three had gathered the bodies inside the ruins without incident. But Ereb's voice had gone flat.
"So."
He asked it with his face gone rigid.
"This is everything?"
"Yes, Young Master."
Team Two, tasked with securing the treasure, bowed their heads in apology.
Ereb stared at what had been laid before him as if he could not believe it. A wad of paper. And a considerable pile of jewels and valuables. That much was fine. But...
"What, nothing besides this? I mean something special."
"Special... as in?"
"The kind of thing that, if you just held it, would pour tremendous power into you — or feel like the authority to rule every land under the sky!"
"Ah... well..."
The knights all wore the exact same expression. If something like that existed, we'd have known.
Ereb was starting to tremble, winding up toward a full-blown rage, when Messi stepped in and pretended to read the stack of papers.
"Young Master, I believe the treasure isn't somewhere far away. I think it's right here."
"What? That?"
He sounded incredulous — which was only natural, since none of them could read it.
"These are documents written in Yagran Language, last used some two thousand years ago. I don't know much of it myself, so I can't speak with precision. But they appear to contain not only fragments of ancient research, but ancient magic as well..."
"Ancient magic!"
Ereb's eyes lit up. At last, a word at the level he had been hoping for.
"C-can you tell me what kind of magic...?"
"No. I don't know that much. I'm not capable of a complete translation."
He knew. He just pretended he didn't.
"Kh."
Ereb made a disappointed sound in his throat. But Messi was not finished.
"There's no need to feel disappointed. Think about it. We have an excellent way to put this to use."
"Put it to use? How?"
"Who are the people who would lose their minds and throw themselves at ancient magic?"
"Mages, obviously."
Mages?
Ereb started to answer, then seemed to catch on. Suddenly he was looking at the papers the way a man looks at something that has just become very interesting.
"We could use this as bait to draw a mage into our faction. But... we don't even know what kind of magic it is. We can't properly judge its value. Would a mage really come over for that?"
"Heh. You said it yourself a moment ago."
"Said what?"
"That a treasure guarded by Enzo Muete would be waiting for us. It certainly won't be ordinary magic. Explain it that way, and mages as a breed will go insane with curiosity."
Thinking of the traits of mages his master had described, the odds looked very good. Ereb seemed to find the logic sound as well; he nodded again and again.
Of course, Ereb was judging by the standard of ordinary mages. Messi's picture was different. He did not want an ordinary mage.
A Great Magician would recognize the value of these documents, at least.
The Great Magician Frox. Use this as bait, and bring him into their faction.
"That's not all. If we collect the equipment the woodcutters' corpses were carrying, it'll be a great help. I doubt they were using ordinary-grade gear. It should raise the combat strength of the knights under your command, Young Master."
"The dead woodcutters' things as well? That hardly seems like a proper show of respect."
In this world, woodcutter was an honorable station. And since many were drawn from noble houses across the kingdoms, Ereb, a noble himself, intended to treat them with due courtesy. Knowing that, Messi offered a further suggestion.
"Then what if we gather all the remains and cremate them? We collect the ashes and keep them at the Woodsman's Fortress."
"Hm!"
"The Lumberjack Alliance abandoned them and sealed this place, so handing the bodies over would be... awkward. And wasn't the fortress their home?"
"Yes. You're right."
The knights watched, and a pair of conclusions settled among them of their own accord.
So the real power sits somewhere else...
Staying on Messi's good side is the smart play.
Whenever Messi spoke, the Young Master's face invariably brightened. Watching it happen, the knights were quietly rearranging their own ranks — placing themselves beneath Messi of their own accord.
"You all heard him? We're cremating them as Messi said, so gather them in one place. Strip all the equipment."
Given that the corpses were still bleeding, they could not take them outside the ruins to burn. And since they had no further business here, they decided to carry out the cremation inside. If Messi personally regulated the fire with magic, it would not take long.
That was when Ramang raised a question.
"Ah — Young Master. The woodcutters' bodies number forty-four in total."
"Is that so? A pity. Not as though we can slice open an Enzo Muete's stomach and go rummaging around."
Ereb treated it as nothing serious. No one here was brave enough to touch the Enzo Muete still twitching in the distance. One person unaccounted for. Unavoidable, he figured.
For Messi, it was a different problem.
That's strange. Why is one missing? Enzo Muete care about slaughter, not eating. A body might be damaged, but they wouldn't choose to devour one completely...
Puzzled, Messi walked over to where the knights were gathering the corpses for cremation. That was when he overheard two knights snickering, pointing at one of the bodies.
"Hey, Holler — you see that corpse you said was a woman? Heh. It was a guy."
"Shut up. You thought so too, be honest. Long straight hair, a back that looked completely female... Who'd have guessed a guy could look that delicate?"
"Haha, you sure you weren't looking somewhere else?"
"I said shut up."
Messi froze.
Did that mean there was not a single female corpse?
He hurried through the bodies, examining them. His movements had a touch of frenzy to them; the other knights stared in bewilderment. He checked all forty-four woodcutters. Every one of them was a man. There was no woman.
Caught in a situation he had never imagined, Messi found he could not close his mouth.