Let's Coax a Spirit
What the hell is even going on here?
He had shown up so full of confidence, radiating the kind of pressure that said he was ready to trade at least one blow—yet the instant I took a single step forward, he fled?
"He's supposed to be the real mastermind behind all this?"
"…I'm pretty confused myself right now."
And it wasn't just an ordinary retreat. He had erased time itself while he ran.
This was the flight of a man who would do anything not to get caught—a desperate, iron-willed escape.
Jerie let out a hollow laugh, looking as if she couldn't believe what she'd just seen. Me, though? More than disbelief, a cold unease was settling in.
That guy doesn't run.
A merciless, thoroughgoing perfectionist.
That was the kind of man Johar Cardmon was.
He clung to his goals with something close to madness; nothing about him had ever felt sloppy or half-hearted.
Any organization that refused to submit, he crushed without mercy. He weighed every contingency and every tool at his disposal, and he always kept contingency plans ready so the main plan would go off without a hitch.
Whether he wiped his targets out in a single sweep or bled them dry by degrees, he got what he wanted in the end.
And yet… that man?
Had just turned and run?
I can't make sense of it.
If I had done something that actually forced him to bolt, maybe. But this was so abrupt I couldn't even guess at his angle.
The only thing that came to mind was the name.
His real name, which I had spoken as I took that step.
A man who never even told his own loyal subordinates who he really was might have sensed something off the moment I casually dropped his name and decided to pull back.
No. If anything, someone like him would have tried to finish me right here the second he got wary.
Questions piled up with no answers in sight.
I wondered if he was just vanishing for a moment to set up an ambush, but Johar Cardmon's position had been shifting every second since then—and the direction was blatantly away from us. There was no other way to read it: he was genuinely running.
I let the tangled thoughts go with a sigh and looked over the wreckage in front of me.
"Well, we still hit the main objective. I guess we can call the result a success."
The building that had been dismantled and the random junk that had been inside it were strewn everywhere in a chaotic mess.
The Green Forest Dawn Society—our actual target—had already been turned into Philosopher's Stones and were presumably with Johar Cardmon now. Purely in terms of eliminating the objective, it was a perfect success.
"Shall we head back, then?"
"Yeah."
Staying here any longer was pointless.
The Green Forest Dawn Society we had been hunting was cleanly wiped out, and Johar Cardmon had fled so far that even mana detection couldn't pick him up anymore.
That didn't mean I could just sit still, though.
The fact that Johar Cardmon had moved personally—and then fled—meant he had definitely started treating me as a real threat.
He would come after Jerie and me with every means at his disposal.
Jerie's older sister was under the headmaster's protection, so a rough explanation would cover that side. Our own safety, though, was something I would have to handle myself.
"We're going to have to move the plan up."
"What plan?"
The moment we got home I went straight down to the basement.
Jerie followed, curiosity written all over her face. I made a request of her.
"Miss Jerie, can you also summon spirits that have a clear sense of self?"
"A spirit with a clear ego? I can, but whether it'll actually obey my orders is another question."
From mid-rank spirits upward—by the usual standards—a sense of self began to take root in what had otherwise been little more than lumps of ether.
Even then, mid-rank spirits generally only had the self-awareness of a child. A solid, human-like ego was a trait that usually appeared only from high-rank spirits onward.
Commanding a high-rank spirit was considered advanced technique, proof of a seasoned spirit mage.
But that only applied when you were talking about binding them as servants.
"That's fine. As long as you can summon one, I'll take care of the rest."
Spirits were a curious race.
Because they weren't physical beings, though, they didn't have many ways to satisfy that curiosity.
So they mixed with humans.
They chose humans who possessed material bodies yet could still communicate with them and fill that curiosity, and they struck bargains.
"I can make an offer even a Spirit King would jump at."
"…Just what kind of offer are you planning to make?"
What most humans wanted from spirits was their power.
The pure, overwhelming force born of ether made an excellent weapon all by itself.
Spirits lent that power to humans, and humans repaid the debt by sharing experiences the spirits themselves could never have.
But what if…
"I'm going to offer them a body."
What if you could create a material body for a spirit?
"Creating a soul from nothing is impossible, but building a body and seating a soul into it is doable."
If you offered a physical vessel that let them satisfy their own curiosity and walk the world on their own two feet, how many spirits would be able to turn that down?
"It fulfills a desire that's practically instinct for their kind."
Every being yearns for what it lacks.
Just as creatures with material bodies—like humans—pursue immortality, non-material life-forms pursue material bodies.
That was why they sometimes possessed people with weak energy or corpses that hadn't been dead long. But a body obtained that way never lasted.
Possess a living person and the original owner usually woke up and kicked them out. Possess a corpse and either monster hunters came calling or the flesh simply rotted away before long.
"A body that regenerates as many times as you want as long as the Philosopher's Stone isn't destroyed… even a human would be tempted by that, never mind a spirit."
As I spoke I laid a hand on my chest and used alchemy inside my own body.
My veins stood out and writhed, pulsing as if they were about to burst.
Then—splash!
"A Philosopher's Stone made from James Baker should make for a powerful ally."
The Philosopher's Stone I had temporarily planted in my body sprayed across the floor.
Because of the foreign sensation I had converted it into a fluid state like blood, so for all its grand name it just looked like I had vomited up a huge amount of blood.
It was pretty grotesque, so I reshaped it into gem form. That helped a little.
"All right. I'm summoning, then?"
"Yes."
Enormous life force and mana surged around Jerie. The entire basement was dyed in that refreshing, pure quality.
Then a gathering green energy slowly took shape in front of her.
So this is what it looks like when the wind itself gains form and manifests, I thought as I watched the scene unfold right before my eyes.
"My name is Anima."
A voice flowed from the wind that had taken on a silhouette roughly the size of an adult woman.
"Young elf. For what reason have you called me?"
When the wind spirit who introduced herself as Anima posed the question, Jerie smiled faintly and pointed toward me.
"The one with business is over there."
At that, Anima turned to face me.
She looked uncomfortable dealing with someone who wasn't her summoner, but that wasn't really my problem.
She wouldn't be able to refuse my offer anyway.
I put the thought straight into words.
"Miss Anima. I have a proposal for you that you will not be able to refuse."
Arca's downtown district was famous the world over.
Countless high-rises, broad plazas, and luxurious hotels and facilities filled the place.
And in a hotel room that looked down over that entire district, a man in a dark red-and-black suit wiped cold sweat from his brow and let out a long breath.
"Haa…"
Johar Cardmon.
The great evil who had brought crime syndicates across the continent to heel, the reigning king of the underworld and leader of Johar.
"No wonder those elf bastards had such a hard time."
Johar Cardmon was not a man who placed much stock in pride.
He considered petty pride a liability that ruined operations, and he would do whatever was necessary—even the most humiliating things—without hesitation.
That was why he had been able to flee without a second's delay. Now, wiping the cold sweat from the back of his neck, he felt the full weight of how correct that judgment in the industrial district had been.
"To think a monster like that had been hiding all this time."
Until now he had been extremely wary of Origin Academy's instructors.
Not out of cowardice—because it was simply the rational thing to do.
If the martial artist who had brought down the evil dragon that once swept the land under an ominous star—Sayulcheon—ever took the field alone, his entire organization would be annihilated.
And there were thirteen such monsters.
The Saintess of Radiance and the Demon Emperor of Paradox, of course, but every other instructor was an absurd freak of nature in their own right.
So he had left the Academy alone.
While he quietly sank roots into the back alleys, gathering enough power and influence, he had not even cast a glance in the Academy's direction.
And yet… what the hell was this?
There was a fourteenth…?!
His clenched molars ground together with an ugly sound.
Barely suppressing the mixture of rage and shock, Johar Cardmon replayed the earlier events.
The moment that man—who he had been told was Origin Academy's fourteenth instructor—spoke his name and stepped forward.
The Gift for perceiving weaknesses that he had obtained through a Philosopher's Stone had gone completely dead, and the foresight he had reflexively checked had shown him his own fatal wound. He vividly recalled that nightmarish vision.
If he had not leapt across time and fled, he would have died right there.
Feeling that truth in his bones, having barely escaped death's door, Johar Cardmon's face hardened as he skipped through time.
I have to change the plan.
The methods he had been using until now had reached their limit.
Walking through time that had been erased—time no one else could perceive—he thought.
He needed a Philosopher's Stone made from a massive number of human sacrifices.
But to be confident of victory even against an Origin Academy instructor, he would need to use humans on a national scale as material at the very least.
My identity will definitely be exposed, but once I have that kind of power it won't matter in the slightest.
The moment the erased stretch of time came to an end, Johar Cardmon appeared on the roof of the hotel.
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
"It's me. Denis."