Flames of the Depths
"It's a non-commodity item, you said. But calling her 'noona'? Last time we met, you called her Lady Yohwa."
"She's older than me, so isn't that a fitting nickname? Sticking 'nim' on everything feels too distant."
It meant Taylor had decided on it unilaterally without mutual agreement. It wasn't profanity or anything critical, just a nickname, so Allen let it slide.
The flamethrower's firepower made short work of cleaning the prison. The air grew humid, and the stench intensified along with it. Of course, only Taylor grimaced.
As the dragon's-breath-like flames illuminated the surroundings, the distant areas plunged into darkness. In that blackness, Allen caught a faint glimmer.
The flames vanished in an instant, leaving only the heated tip of the staff glowing red. Allen pointed it toward the end of the passage.
"Can you see the iron door?"
"Yeah. Something's gotta be inside."
"Did the collector leave something behind?"
"Black mages are mages too. Those picky bastards wouldn't. He'd have taken all the valuables, but no room for complacency. You know the gap between him and us without me saying it, right?"
Allen nodded. Water sprinkled to tend a lawn was a flood to tiny bugs.
Taylor, taking the lead, cracked the iron door open. No reaction from inside, so he flung it wide this time.
In the corner of the stadium-sized room were what seemed to be experimental tools the collector had left behind. Around the stone coffin in the center loomed grotesque structures of flesh and bone.
Taylor aimed his shotgun at the figure sprawled beside it.
"Who..."
Pfong! Pfong! Pfong!
Before Taylor could finish, the distinctive launch sound of the magic bullet launcher echoed from behind.
Kwarung!
The sound was cute, but the magic bullet's power wasn't—it summoned a thunderbolt. Taylor, feeling his artificial skin heat up and seeing "Burn Warning" pop up in one corner of his vision, asked Allen without shifting his gaze forward.
"We gotta confirm who it is."
"It has the same mark on its head as the black mage we fought with Francois."
Flour-white skin, shaved bald head, androgynous features. Stitches visible on the forehead.
Allen's enhanced eyes recalled that moment, and the prone figure matched at a high rate.
"Ah, the cockroach-tough one?"
The black mage rose simultaneously. Caught off-guard by the sudden ambush, its joints were twisted in multiple directions.
Allen fired another magic bullet, but this time it was blocked by a black barrier.
Once fully upright, the black mage's upper body faced Allen, but its head turned backward. It gripped its head with both hands and twisted it 180 degrees with a crunch.
"Grraaah..."
It looked like a slave the collector had abandoned during withdrawal. Incomplete, but instinctively wielding black magic made it no pushover.
The creature pointed a bony finger at Allen. Five arrow-sized black projectiles shot out in an instant.
The vanguard was Taylor's job. He blasted two with the shotgun and slashed two more with his mana sword. The last one was handled by the leopard, which leaped from near Allen.
Allen's body had dodged backward too. Previously, his reflexes and brain signals outpaced his flesh, but the powered exoskeleton had cut his reaction time considerably.
In that interval, Taylor charged the black mage. Allen fired a magic bullet at it.
Of course, no intent to sweep Taylor in, so he swapped to a neutralization bullet. It bore the runes [Weakness], [Explosion], and [Focus] that had pierced a barrier before.
A hole punched right through the black mage's barrier. Taylor shoved the shotgun muzzle inside.
Bangbangbangbangbang!
True to its automatic design, holding the trigger poured bullets inward. Pummeled by mana-infused lead shot, the black mage's body mashed like dough.
Every time it tried to repair the barrier, another of Allen's magic bullets flew. Followed by Taylor's gunfire.
Even then, it kept twisting its fingers. Knitted mana formed stable structures, absorbing ambient mana to sublimate into spells.
Kaduduk!
The flesh and bone pillars nearby warped. Their surfaces writhed, sprouting thick bundles of tentacles. Crimson-black whips lashed at Taylor.
But the seasoned warrior had braced for the pillars' twitching. His reflex axle-activated body left afterimages, dodging the vile tentacles. Sometimes leaping high to kick off the ceiling.
"You filthy bastard!"
Taylor bared his teeth, inverted on the ceiling.
The whips passed him and stretched rearward. Irked by the rear support, it had feinted at Taylor to target Allen.
Taylor struck the flesh pillar directly with the EBI's embedded [Air Explosion], blunting the whips' momentum, then retreated.
"You okay? We'll all die at this rate. Fall back for now?"
"Still manageable."
To Taylor, it didn't look convincing.
The magic bullet launcher was badly bent, the rune pen snapped in two and rolling on the floor, blood dripping from the fingers that held it.
Exploration mattered to Taylor, but Allen's safety came first.
"That's too much bleeding!"
"Just buy me a moment."
Taylor startled at the whoosh of cutting wind, drawing his mana sword. The manifested mana wounded the tentacles, drawing blood.
Allen had no thought of staunching the blood from his finger. Taylor's worry was exaggerated, especially when Allen was hurt.
The rune pen's tough to fix right now...
Instead, Allen stared at his finger. Precisely, his blood.
The rune pen's metal cartridge and mana stone dust drew circuits with good durability. Metal, after all.
But did that mean circuits were only drawn with metal? No.
Blood held dense mana and was generated by the body itself, making it highly compatible. Drawbacks: drawing it weakened the body, and circuits didn't last long.
So use it as disposable.
Conveniently, the infinite track box was right beside him. It had rolled on its wheels, diligently evading spells.
It felt more agile than him somehow, but Allen silently reached out. Drawers opened in sequence, spiders spilling out.
He drew rune letters on each spider's back with his blood as they mounted his palm. [Flame] and [Explosion]. Time-limited to two-rune combos, lined up.
"Still far?!"
Taylor's urgent shout burst out. His exploration suit torn in places, oil and liquefied mana leaking from damaged magitechwear.
"Done."
Allen lined the spiders single-file and hurled his gaze forward. The black mage's barrier looked intact at a glance, but Allen sensed the ambient mana density had plummeted.
It's drawing it in for repairs and attacks.
It had worked. Then crush it outright with overwhelming firepower. His clotted-blood finger pointed at the black mage.
Simultaneously, the spiders engulfed in flames. Transformed into fire spiders, they skittered across floor and ceiling without regard, launching at the black mage.
Kwaang!
Before the first explosion's flames settled, they dove in unison as if by promise.
Kwarung!
Taylor, now close, used the box and cart as a barricade to evade the lashing red tongues.
"I'll burn to death at this rate."
"It's fine."
Allen gestured the leopard over, prying its jaws open. Into the unsettled flames, toward the hazy black mage, it fired a light beam.
Cave Ruins (4)
Fire is lethal. And beautiful.
Mana called the second fire for its immense contributions to human life and civilization. In ancient times, its myriad uses made it seen as a god's gift or the divine itself.
Also a symbol of destruction and purification.
Taylor alternated glances between the massive bonfire heating the stadium-sized room and Allen, who couldn't tear his eyes from it.
Arsonist? Pyromaniac? If he'd become a mage, he'd specialize in fire for sure.
Taylor knew Allen's childhood was bleak. Ranka, Saldos's economic vassal akin to an imperial colony; then captured by pirates, sold, and tormented by weirdos.
No resentment toward the world would be a lie. He hid it well, but a spark could ignite the piled kindling in a flash.
Even with his stoic front, he's got plenty of gripes. Gotta guide him right. Can't let good Allen turn into an international fugitive like the collector.
Too wasteful for such a smart, talented kid to squander on destruction. Contributing to civilization suited him better—more fulfilling, more his style.
Magitech engineer? Might as well become a titan like Katan.
As Taylor secretly resolved, Allen pondered something entirely different. No interest in smashing or burning.
Watching embodied black mana purified by fire and light, he only lamented not seeing pure natural mana with the naked eye.
If possible, endless applications: analyze affinities to counter them, draw near-perfect runes, read flows to predict foes.
Not solvable now, so he focused on changes as the last fire spider hurled into the flames.
Black magic especially vulnerable to fire and light.
He knew it theoretically, but seeing it drove it home. The gulf between knowledge and experience was vast.
As fire spiders vanished, flames receded, leaving the black mage—hostile instinct alone—to slowly regenerate.
"Th-that creepy fucker."
Allen used Taylor's grumbling as backdrop to manipulate a magic bullet. Normally activated on launch from the launcher, now broken, so manual.
He gripped it tight, injecting mana along the circuit. Like lighting dynamite's fuse, mana flowed the path.
Taylor, watching, reached to throw it himself.
"Gimme."
"I'll do it."
"Why?"
"Powered exoskeleton handles the throw fine."
Allen started to hand it over but threw himself. Exoskeleton-boosted, it flew fast—but landed off-target.
Card tosses worked in narrow halls, but this vast room amplified errors.
"Kekeke..."
Taylor chuckled low; Allen handed the next without protest.
The veteran explorer, mostly magitechwear, had throwing prowess too. Seeming casual, hits landed precisely on the black mage.
"Head, chest, head, head again. Still got it."
As magic bullet stock dwindled, so did the black mage's bulk. After about fifty tosses, regeneration hit its limit.
Precisely, the flesh-bone pillars fully melted, cutting black mana supply.
Allen visually confirmed but passed ten more for insurance. They waited for flames and smoke to settle.
"Cockroach bastard. Kill it and it keeps coming."
"Still weaker firepower than the last black mage. But insane regeneration."
"The one who claimed to be the collector's disciple? That prick's got no disciples—just slaves."
Finally, the pest-incinerating heat faded; Allen and Taylor approached the room's center slowly.
The leopard, unfazed even by light beams now, pawed the ashes first. Evoking a cat burying its business.
The stone coffin endured the blasts intact. Hopes swelled that anything inside a non-ordinary item was safely preserved.
"Clean. Collector must've taken it on withdrawal."
"Bust."
The coffin gaped unmistakably empty.
Allen chided the leopard to handle ashes more carefully; Taylor leaned at an angle