Chimera (2)
And now it had shown its face as well.
Alan closed his eyes instead of responding. The vehicle they rode in resembled a pickup truck, and Leopard and Box were seated in the cargo bed. His mind was linked with Box.
The little one lowered its body. Once its balance was firmly set, a long barrel extended from its torso.
'Load.'
Beep.
Having received Alan's command, Box trained the barrel on the grotesque creatures.
'Fire—'
Fwoom!
The magic shell left the muzzle before Alan had even finished speaking. It detonated above the monsters' heads, pouring a cascade of flame down upon them.
The shell he had just fired was an incendiary round, one that burned using mana itself as its fuel. Even ablaze, the creature kept charging—but by the time it closed in on the vehicle, its entire body had already melted away.
Over the comms, Alana's voice came through again.
They had just rounded a large hill, leaving nothing to obstruct their view. That was how everyone learned why Alana had stopped mid-sentence.
Even from a distance, the city of Abara was far from normal. Plumes of smoke rising here and there were only the beginning; buildings cloaked in grotesque living flesh were clearly visible.
And an army that still retained its function had its weapons trained on the city.
If you could see them from here, they could spot you just as easily. The army's response was swift. Some of the self-propelled guns aimed at the city rotated on their mounts, and combat drones resembling flying saucers lifted into the air.
A few of the batteries guarding the rear on the hilltop were aimed squarely at the road leading into the city. If the army launched an attack without lowering its guard, things would turn very dangerous very quickly.
Alana slowed the vehicle and leaned her upper body out through the passenger window. Even so, the army showed no sign of standing down.
Only when the other clergy revealed themselves as well—Alana was not the only one to show her face—did the light condensing inside the barrels finally fade away.
Alan thought he could guess the reason. Alana was the ideal candidate to lead the Purification Volunteer Corps—which, put another way, meant she was enormous and terrifying to look at.
'They may have mistaken her for a cartel thug wearing a stolen nun's habit.'
The convoy moved at a speed that wouldn't put the army on edge, passed a brief inspection from the welcoming party, and pulled off to one side of the garrison.
Monks and nuns were walking about the area, making it obvious that other members of the Mother Church were stationed here as well.
A kindly old man emerged from a small tent. Alana dashed over and gave him a light embrace—but the difference in their bulk meant the old man simply disappeared into her arms.
"Father Danny. It's been far too long."
"Welcome, my child."
"What on earth happened? Why has the city become that?"
"I'll explain it piece by piece, so calm yourself. First, put this down."
Father Danny took Alana by the hand and led her toward the tent, looking for all the world like a grandfather greeting his granddaughter after a long absence. Then, halfway through opening the tent flap, he glanced back over his shoulder.
"Ah, this would be far too cramped. Let's just talk out here."
For a moment, Alan glimpsed through the gap a spiked iron mace. It looked so vicious one would hardly believe it belonged to a man of the cloth.
Danny plopped himself down on the grass. It was a gesture that radiated warmth far more than dignity.
"First, let me explain why we couldn't reach you. Do you see the city?"
"I see smoke, and buildings that look... wrong."
"The buildings draped in flesh are emitting a wide-area communications jamming field."
"Ah, so that's why contact failed. If Abara has come to this—don't tell me the capital—"
As Alana lowered her voice, Danny shook his head. He even swept a hand around them, as if to say, look about you.
Seen from a distance was one thing; up close, the army had its share of subtle problems. Far more of the equipment was outdated than expected, and the soldiers' discipline looked loose at best.
"The capital alone is holding. As though it always had."
From the beginning, the Kamiro government had guarded the capital with an iron grip while the rest of the nation groaned in agony. But with the situation grown this large, they had no choice but to send troops to the surrounding cities.
Alana twisted her face into a scowl, letting her feelings about the Kamiro government show.
"Haah... those people, honestly. Setting that aside—why are you in a standoff?"
"There are still civilians trapped inside the city."
"And the army?"
"They'd rather sit back and level it with artillery, nice and safe."
"There are citizens in there, and they want to flatten the whole city?"
"It's hardly an ordinary situation, so I understand their reasoning, but—"
"Understand? You mustn't, Father."
"Impatient as ever. The vigilance committee and we stood against it, so the assault has been postponed."
Much like Pisto, Abara had its own vigilante committee. It was the natural outcome—when all was said and done, the only one who could protect your own body was you. All the more so on the Southern Continent, where public order was a joke.
That said, Solsdos was hardly a paradise either. Mana fed desire, and incidents of every kind erupted constantly. Just recently, the city had been in an uproar over a magic-bullet shooting spree.
Even as those thoughts ran through his head, Alan kept observing the city. After a while, Shiva asked quietly.
"Brother Alan."
"Yes?"
"Do you happen to have an idea what those horrifying masses of flesh actually are?"
He was no expert in bio-engineering, but there was certainly room to examine the question. Anyone could speculate, after all.
His left eye shifted focus, and the city leapt closer. The horrifying buildings came with it.
They pulsed like hearts, or repeated cycles of contraction and relaxation like stimulated muscle. Parts of them were coated in some unidentified mucus.
The real problem was that the monsters Alan had burned off with his shell earlier came crawling out of those buildings. They took every shape imaginable—human, animal, monster—with raw red muscle bared to the outside.
"They look like bio-armor."
"What's that?"
"I explained it to you before."
"When?"
"The bio-armor we encountered at the ruins, when we went with Professor Oros."
"Ah, I remember now. The things that had nothing left but the instinct to destroy, the ones attacking explorers and students?"
"The essence is different, though. Bio-armor is a suit that supplements the body—those monsters are made of the stuff from the inside out."
"If it were up to me, I'd burn the whole city down. Don't tell me we're going in there. Surely not."
Speak of the devil and he appears. The moment Taylor closed his mouth, Alana—who had just finished her own conversation—came strolling over.
"That's right. We'd be grateful for your cooperation."
"So you're saying we should march into a city the Electo Cartel shat all over? Hold on—first, what are the flesh and the monsters?"
"As I speculated before, we believe it's the work of the Tailor—or one of her disciples. There are still isolated civilians in there. And—"
"I get the picture."
This time, it was Alan who stepped forward.
"Let's designate those buildings as hatcheries. You said the army would move in once the hatcheries were destroyed?"
"How did you know that?"
"Educated guess."
Alan shrugged. His mind ran fast, but the spiders he'd dispatched were excellent intelligence agents in their own right.
String together the curses exchanged by soldiers smoking on break, the words clearly audible from the commander's barracks, and the picture assembled itself well enough.
The army had concluded that the city's nightmarish state was the Electo Cartel's handiwork—a trap meant to bleed them dry so the cartel could seize the strategic high ground. So they had tried to flatten everything with artillery from a safe distance, and the Mother Church and the vigilantes had stood in the way.
Of course, no one intended to leave it be forever. It was a reprieve, and a brief one.
Just then, Father Daniel emerged from the tent with his mace in hand. The red fluid he hadn't managed to wipe off still glistened with fresh stickiness—proof he had been in and out of the city quite recently.
"Alana, we're going in first."
"Father, you haven't slept at all."
"There'll be plenty of time for sleep later."
The moment Father Danny began to move, the clergy and vigilantes who had been resting nearby rose to their feet.
Alan asked as Danny passed by.
"You're going in to rescue people right now, aren't you? Where will you take them?"
"First we get everyone out together, then evacuate them to a city that's still standing."
"And if cartel members are mixed in among them?"
"Spend all your time worrying about that, and you may miss your chance to save someone else."
Danny departed without asking for help, and without pressing anyone to join. Alana followed, leading the Purification Volunteer Corps—spouting words like love and peace—toward the city.
As Alan stared blankly at their retreating backs, Taylor sidled up beside him, fiddling with the mana sword tucked at his waist.
"So what's the plan?"
"Those monsters. Fascinating research subjects."
"Is that so."
Taylor smirked. The look said, typical you. Shiva, who had seemed ready to charge in alone at any moment, added his own piece.
"Brother Alan, I believe in you."
Of course, that wasn't his only reason. In the end, your body was yours to protect—but if someone helped, wouldn't the situation turn out for the better?
'If only someone had helped me when I escaped Lanka... No—what if I had never needed to run at all?'
Alan tapped his helmet. A hollow knock rang out, the vibration tingling through his fingers, and he plunged into the depths of his own mind.
Before he knew it, they had entered the city. Crumbled roads, ash swirling on the wind, and monstrous cries from every direction came to greet the guests.
Taylor wrinkled his nose.
"Filthy stench. Alan, you got a mask?"
Before Alan could even give the order, Box produced a herbal mask from one of its drawers. The creases between Taylor's and Shiva's brows smoothed away at once.
"Father Danny has gone toward the center, and Sister Alana to the left—so let's take the right."
"That means I get into heaven, right?"
"If it's you, Brother Taylor, I'd say it's possible."
"I don't even believe in the Mother God."
"Mother does not trouble herself over such trivial matters. To live as a human being ought to live is enough."
"Focus, both of you. There happens to be a hatchery nearby."
Alan monitored the situation through the spiders' eyes. Perhaps because Danny and Alana had drawn the enemy's attention first, only a handful of monsters were guarding the hatchery.
When they reached it—a building that had probably been five stories tall, once—the surface writhed roughly against itself. A movement that suggested it had sensed the presence of enemies.
Kreeeeaaagh!
Horrible screams erupted from inside, and the monsters came bursting out. The sight of things like anatomical muscle specimens gone mad, charging at full tilt, was even more horrifying than he'd imagined.
What greeted their dramatic entrance were magic shells the size of fists. Flame burst out from within thin plates of metal.
Kyaaagh!
Just as they had arrived, they departed—screaming in agony as they crumbled into ash. Alan proceeded to rain shells on the hatchery as well.
"I thought you wanted to research it?"
"There are plenty of hatcheries left."
"Were your shells always that powerful?"
"I ground in the mana stones we got from the Snowfield. Improved the mana circuit geometry and the component materials, too."
"You put mana stones in those? No wonder they hit hard. What would one of those go for on the open market?"
"Around one million coins a shell, give or take."
"So you're beating things down with money."
He meant that was the market rate. As the maker, Alan only had to count the cost of materials, which made them far cheaper for him.
One hatchery, burned to nothing. What remained stood upright like an enormous lump of charcoal.
Before he could even savor the accomplishment, a colossal scream rang out. The vibration set his boots trembling. The sound's epicenter really was underground.
KA-BOOM!
A huge, elongated thing erupted from the ground. The sewer the worm-like monster had burst from was overflowing with flesh.
"Shit!"
The curse flew out of Taylor instantly. It was a horrifying sight even by Alan's standards; one could say a single profanity summed up everyone's feelings quite well.
"That's a spoon worm!"
"A what?"
"There was this bizarre creature that Cheolsu once tried to make me eat."
The giant spoon worm caught sight of Alan, and its tip twitched. The movement resembled a mouth smacking and working, preparing to spit something out. His prediction proved correct—a thick yellow liquid came spraying forth.
Alan, already prepared, deflected the liquid with Space Interference. Where it splashed across the ground, the floor turned yellow, crackled, and began to smoke.
As the spoon worm smacked its mouth again, Panther stepped forward and opened its jaws. A beam of searing red light erupted from its throat, vaporizing the incoming liquid mid-air before boring straight through the creature's head and torso.
The tunnel through its body was so thoroughly cooked that not a single drop of blood could be seen. Through the gaping hole, the far side of the street was plainly visible.
"All that ugliness, and nothing behind it."