Chapter 62
Chapter 62
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Burning City, Altbert (2)
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*
Guards were gathering in the marketplace to contain the spreading fire. They were destroying buildings in the path of the flames and dousing them with water. Kirhas darted across rooftops, her face smeared with soot.
“Benefactor! Benefactor!!”
-Kwaaang!
A red spear flew in and embedded itself at her feet. Kirhas leaped back swiftly, swinging her sword.
-Clang!
She deflected the spear that had come right up to her face and retreated frantically. The rooftop she stood on was crumbling in places from even the slightest impact, weakened by the flames eating at the pillars.
“You bitch!!”
-Kwaaang!
Another spear came flying. This time, not at Kirhas, but at the rooftop beneath her. She had barely managed to keep her balance thanks to her beastkin instincts, but now there was no footing left at all.
“Kya aaah!!”
Her body plummeted toward the building below, ablaze with fire. She grabbed the edge of the collapsing roof with all her strength. Her body dangled precariously in midair. Behind her, she sensed the enemy slowly approaching.
“You... damn beast. It's over now!”
“Says who?”
-Step.
At that moment, Kirhas's ears perked straight up. A familiar voice, familiar footsteps. And a familiar scent! A strong hand gripped her arm at the edge of the roof and pulled her up with tremendous force!
“Benefactor!”
“You did well.”
Kirhas burrowed into Fernandez's embrace without thinking. Her tail stood rigid with fear and confusion. Fernandez gently stroked the back of her neck. Kirhas purred softly in his arms.
“What did you do to my attendant?”
“That filthy beast burned down my workshop!”
The robed mage shouted at Fernandez from atop the roof. Knight? Mage? He strained to discern Fernandez's identity.
“Benefactor, that guy...”
“It's fine. Rest. I see him.”
The mystic sight from the pendant around Fernandez's neck whirred to life, analyzing the magical structure woven around the mage's body. So this was who Moria had learned from—apparently from a fairly traditional school. Fernandez smiled at the familiar magic visible beneath the robe.
“Cellini. Long time no see.”
“...You know me?”
“Pity we couldn't meet under better circumstances. So you were here at this time.”
“What bullshit is this? Who the hell are you?”
The mage flinched and put some distance between them. His hands quickly wove mudras in the air: inscribe, intervene, fragment, penetrate!
-This timing is almost at that bitch's peak.
‘His experience is far below the Cellini we knew.’
In an instant, four mudras formed, and a red spear shot from the mage's fingertips. Simple, but fast! Fernandez held Kirhas with one arm and drew his sword with the other to bat away the spear.
-Clang!
The blade vibrated as it shattered the spear. It was a strike with precise momentum, but the blade showed significant damage. Immense destructive power—and the scarier part was that it wouldn't stop at just one!
“Kirhas. Remember Sir Bayemier's house?”
“Yes, Sancta Street 3... Yes, I know.”
“Go warn him. Moria's about to move.”
“Yes, Benefactor. Be careful!”
Kirhas slipped from Fernandez's arms and dashed away. Fernandez stared at the mage, who had paused his mudras to glare at him.
“Impressive confidence. You know who I am, and you're still planning to face me alone?”
“Cellini. Even assuming Moria inherited your school, there are too many oddities.”
“Fair enough. I've got questions for you too. But too many ears around for a quiet chat. I'll rip off your limbs first, then ask your brain directly.”
‘Ready?’
-What is there to prepare on my end?
‘Stick to the plan. I'll handle the offense.’
As the mage began weaving mudras, Fernandez extended his left hand and started his own. One-handed mudras lacked precision and speed, but experience and knowledge could overcome that.
“As I thought! You studied magic, brat!”
-Kwaaang!
A red bolt of lightning crackled from the mage's hand. Fernandez thrust his sword through it. The lightning coiled around the blade and gnawed at his right arm. Flesh burst open, burns slithering up his arm like a thick serpent.
“Grk!”
Fernandez shook off the residual mana from his sword and leaped into the air. Fifteen meters to the mage! He could close the gap with five jumps at Demonica output!
-Construct.
One mudra with his left hand, and a black halo materialized behind his head. Due to the incomplete Bronze Throne, he had only one spell usable per day!
-Kwaaang!
The next bolt shot from the mage's hand. Fernandez twisted in midair to dodge and kicked off the next rooftop. His waist twisted, propelling him upward once more!
-Yeokryeok.
Another mudra tightened, and a firmer mana weave flowed through his left arm. Thorns extended from the black halo behind his head, igniting—
-Kwaaaang!!
“You bastard!!”
Once more! Kicking off the roof into the air. Fernandez rode the crumbling, makeshift footing upward, closing in on the mage again. Now, about six meters left.
-Yuksin.
The halo behind his head erupted in black flames! The mage staggered back, drawing and hurling a red spear. Fernandez's blade blocked it, shattering and scattering into the air.
“It's over now!!”
“Yeah. It is.”
‘Feizashi! The Bronze Throne's function lasts only five minutes!’
-Five minutes is more than enough for me.
Before the mage's next attack, he paused his mudras and stared blankly at the approaching Fernandez. Was it the heat warping his vision through the flames? It looked like wings sprouting from his back—
‘Not wings... That's...?’
As Fernandez drew nearer, even she could clearly identify it. Behind him floated a faintly flickering spirit—withered, skeletal arms of an old man!
Auxiliary incantation, Three Heads Six Arms. Two hands was the limit for manifestation, but with Feizashi controlling them, attempting reverse sorcery was a walk in the park.
The Bronze Throne granted only five minutes of manifestation. Fernandez tossed his broken sword and drew a throwing dagger in one hand.
-Kwaaang!
The mage bit his lip and fired lightning at the approaching Fernandez. Mudras formed swiftly, mana racing through circuits to materialize at her fingertips—
‘This!!!’
-Dudududu!
Every moment mana gathered, precisely timed wedges hammered in with exquisite precision! The mage panicked, trying another spell, then another. Useless. Her circuits could no longer draw mana!
“You, you bastard!! What the hell are you?!”
-Kwachik!
“Guhk!!”
Fernandez's fist slammed into the mage's face. Her jaw wrenched violently from the raw force. Fernandez stabbed her gut with the dagger and laughed. Sticky blood oozed from between her lips.
“Cellini. Cellini. We made a great pair.”
Riverside Cellini. Mindplayer. Great Witch of the Full Moon. Mistress of the Sabbat. One of the fifteen fiends who burned the world. In his past life, when he led the Kalmburg Magic Academy, she had been one of his closest friends.
Her spellcasting methods, habits, even her mana knotting techniques—nothing felt unfamiliar. Fernandez smiled bitterly and twisted the blade the other way.
“Guhk...!”
“Truly a shame to meet like this, Cellini. Barbaria Cellini Petracia.”
“How... do you know me? One of the dogs chasing me...?”
“Think what you want.”
-Moria's coming.
‘Time left?’
-3 minutes 20 seconds.
‘Plenty.’
*
Kirhas bounded across rooftops frantically, racing toward the inner city. The inner city sat at the hill's peak, and Sancta Street 3 ran right below it—a major road lined with nobles' homes, heavily patrolled by guards.
‘Blood scent?’
Her keen nose caught the metallic tang. Kirhas crouched low on the roof and scanned around. No signs of commotion or guards rushing about. The smell wafted thickly from one house on Street 3.
‘Ah, shouldn't detour through alleys...’
Kirhas didn't know what Bayemier's mansion looked like. No time to check nameplates at each gate now.
With half a gambler's hunch, she leaped toward the blood-scented mansion.
*
Bayemier slumped against the wall, breathing raggedly. He spat blood-mixed saliva and exhaled hot breath. A wound pierced his side, his right arm severed. He'd lost too much blood; his mind swam.
-Clang!
Glass shattering echoed in his dazed ears. He sighed inwardly. Another assassin after his life? Death was already knocking anyway.
‘That fool Jairn...’
Moria. That witch would bring the great kingdom of knights to ruin. Bayemier shed tears. Jairn was his disciple. The boy's swordsmanship wasn't ripe enough to best his old, weary master.
“Crying now?”
“...Jairn's squire?”
“You're badly hurt.”
Fabric tearing—the bedsheet—then his wounds were tightly bandaged. Bayemier opened his bleary eyes. Jairn's corpse and Kirhas's face came into view.
“Did you kill this knight, sir?”
“Not yet that capable.”
“Benefactor... Sir Albert said to warn you Moria's about to move. Seems too late.”
“Not yet.”
Bayemier pointed a finger at his sword. Kirhas cautiously fetched it, but he shook his head.
“Not for me. You take it. Find His Highness with this sword. Tell him there's a traitor. Tell him to leave the capital and seek Sir Paliamaine. The capital is dangerous.”
“My lord can handle Moria and her master.”
“...Heh. The kid's grown a lot.”
Bayemier chuckled hoarsely, then shook his head.
“The palace has burial cultists. Moria and that 'master' are just their pawns. Couldn't touch them hiding behind His Majesty until now. But soon...”
“We need to treat your wounds. Sir Bayemier. You'll die like this.”
“Less than four arrows? Not even a scratch. I'm a Round Table Knight, little one.”
Bayemier rose shakily, limping to the door. With trembling hand, he yanked the sword from Jairn's corpse.
“Three more like these wouldn't faze me. I am Altbert of Althais, Bayemier! Round Table Knight Bayemier!”
“Stay safe. I'll be back soon.”
Kirhas bowed respectfully to the old knight and slipped out the window. Armored men pounded up the mansion stairs. Bayemier loosened his stance and whispered.
“I am Bayemier of Althais.”
*