Chapter 147
Chapter 147
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 147
Chapter Title: Alien VS Alien
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Of course, humans weren't granted the ability to fly. Sure, there were bones called wing bones, but flying through the sky with those was impossible. That meant relying on tools for anything resembling flight with just the body—and unfortunately, Ian had no such tools.
This meant one thing.
He had no choice but to plummet helplessly under gravity's pull.
Whiiiiiish!!
"Guh!"
The gas mask rattled in the rushing wind. The strap, unable to withstand the acceleration, trembled violently before snapping with a pop. The mask came loose in an instant, shooting upward with the wind before colliding with a pigeon and shattering.
The pigeon's body split in two. Hot blood rained down like a storm, and Ian grimaced as it splattered across his face. Words like "bird flu" flashed through his mind, but that wasn't important right now.
'If I keep falling like this, I'm definitely dead...!'
Falling from the fifth floor of an apartment? His coat could absorb that impact fully. It might ache a bit, but he could escape without a scratch.
But plummeting from this skydiving-like height straight into concrete? His body would vanish without a trace. Probably leaving a red flower blooming on the ground.
Dying in a fight with an anomaly or mage was one thing. But croaking from a random, unceremonious fall? No thanks. Ian roughly wiped the blood obscuring his vision and shouted at the sky.
"Give me a helpful spell! Anything, quick!"
The grimoires responded to his will, rapidly flipping their pages. Ian's eyes speed-read the spells written on the paper.
First, Deep Sea Chronicles.
An impressive spell, but the cost was steep. And crashing into water from this height wouldn't guarantee safety.
Next, Blue Shackles and the Book of Contracts.
A wind spirit.
It could definitely help in this situation, but without a contract, he couldn't control Sylph freely. And the ritual itself wasn't simple enough to draw impromptu in midair. By the time he drew it, summoned, and contracted, he'd already be kissing the asphalt.
Pass.
Finally, Hand of Recreation.
Temporarily grants flight ability. Extreme fatigue and lethargy follow immediately after use. Duration: 2 minutes.
[Materials: 1 object to enchant, blood from a winged creature, 2 feathers, 3 chunks of anomalous flesh.]
"It's you after all!"
Ian shoved the other two grimoires aside roughly and grabbed Hand of Recreation with brute force. The grimoire shuddered under his rough touch—not from dislike, but more like a shy maiden's quiver, as if saying, "W-what's this all of a sudden? It's embarrassing."
Or maybe not—but reality was better than dreams anyway. Ian lavished affection on the grimoire's cover with rough strokes, then smeared blood from his body onto the inside of his coat, drawing a magic circle.
The wind made it incredibly hard, but he managed. He attached a chunk of anomalous flesh he always carried. It stuck to the circle like a magnet.
For feathers, he snatched one from a nearby flying bird. He pressed the gray-tinged feather against the circle and chanted the incantation, holding the grimoire in one hand and securing the feather with the other.
"Humans denied wings hold the greatest longing for the divine. O Goddess of purity and creation, grant me radiant wings to behold you."
⟨ Flight ⟩
Hum.
The magic circle inside his coat glowed. The flesh, blood, and feathers melted away. Ian's fall halted as if by magic. Instead, he floated through the sky like he was in water.
'Solid performance.'
Flight activated instantly upon completion.
He nodded in satisfaction and dove toward the ground. The sensation of free flight was exhilarating, but with only two minutes, he had no time to dawdle. He plummeted straight down, slowing gradually when about three meters from the surface.
...Tap.
He landed safely. Ian leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief, catching his breath.
Then intense lethargy and fatigue washed over him. Suddenly, he didn't want to do anything.
'...This is the side effect.'
He'd expected strong backlash, but experiencing it firsthand was worlds apart from predicting it. He knew he needed a big show to signal his position, but he couldn't muster the will. Moving was just too bothersome.
"...Still gotta do it. Ngh..."
He gripped his sinking mind and peeled himself from the wall.
That's when something thudded down right beside him with a clatter.
"..."
It was a head. A human head.
Freshly dead—eyes still open, moisture intact. The tip of its protruding tongue was gone. Its nose, ground against the asphalt, had lost all original shape. Shorter than that mage whose name couldn't be spoken.
Any normal person would have freaked out. But Ian calmly pulled out a cigarette and lit it. With a hiss, lemon-scented smoke filled his lungs.
Normally, he'd puzzle over who killed it, what happened, if the killer was nearby. But right now, he just didn't care. He knew he should, but his brain wouldn't turn over.
'Damn side effects.'
Ian sighed deeply, exhaling smoke.
Well, he was alive thanks to the spell. No grudges against the grimoire—only gratitude. Survival itself was the biggest win, right?
"Hoo..."
Ian shook off his thoughts and desperately forced his brain to plan ahead. Thinking felt like his brains had evaporated, but he managed to outline the next step.
'Rendezvous first. Yuna or Eun-ha might've crash-landed somewhere too, so waiting for their signal isn't a bad—'
"Did you take care of the heretic?"
Snap.
His thoughts cut off at the voice from the alley.
"..."
Ian's eyes chilled. He glanced over with the cigarette still in his mouth.
"Yes, we did. Killed them as painfully as possible, so no heretics for a while."
"Good. The Leader will be pleased."
A group of five—men and women—clustered in the alley. Dressed in pure white robes, they looked down at the headless corpse, chatting.
"If so, no regrets there. Lately, the Leader's seemed low on energy..."
"Didn't those lizards slaughter our followers once? The Leader treats them like children, so maybe... Hey, who's that?"
Mid-conversation, a woman noticed Ian's gaze and snapped sharply. Their heads turned toward him in unison. No stealth—he was staring openly—so of course they noticed.
No point hiding now. Ian exhaled smoke and strolled to the alley entrance.
"Cultists?"
The followers flipped at his question.
"Cult?! We serve the one true Messiah, the Second Coming of Christ in this world! No damn heretic has the right to call us that—"
"Cult confirmed. Thanks for answering."
Ian cut off the noisy priest and flicked his spent cigarette to the ground. Sweet lemon candy lingered in his mouth.
"Apocalypse brings out the cults. You kept the aesthetics on point, though."
"...You one of the lizards' slaves? Your clothes are awfully clean."
A woman in a slightly different-patterned priest robe asked. Ian chuckled.
"If you mean Reptilians, wrong guess. I'm a mage."
"...A mage?"
"Yeah. Ever heard of magic? Check this out—this is a grimoire. Full of ways to become a mage and every spell imaginable. You'd melt your brain just reading it."
"Crazy bastard. Kill him."
The woman shook her head and gestured to the followers. They gripped knife hilts and charged Ian.
"And this is a spell called Fireball."
Ian eyed them and slipped a hand inside his coat. When he pulled it out, a revolver gleamed in his grip. The followers froze at the silver barrel, and Ian grinned.
"Now, the incantation."
"Th-this is Korea! No way a psycho like you has a huge revolver like—"
"Bang."
BAAAAANG!!!
A massive boom erupted as the muzzle flashed. The hammer slammed a bullet from the cylinder, and the thick lead slug exceeded sound speed, shattering the lead follower's skull. It didn't stop, pulverizing the man behind's cranium too.
"Huh?"
Splattersplat!
Blood, flesh, brains, and bone fragments rained down. Lifeless bodies slumped like dolls, and Ian's face had gone blank as he cocked the hammer.
"This location, and the abandoned cafe nearby. Burn them all."
Hum.
The grimoire in his hand vibrated briefly, flipping pages. Two dazed followers stared blankly at the page—then their bodies melted into goo, oozing to the ground. No screams, no pain. Just gone, like a phenomenon.
"Ah, aaah...!"
The woman who'd ordered his death collapsed, mouth and pupils trembling. Pitiful, but Ian ignored it, pressing the still-hot barrel to her forehead.
Sizzle.
"I'll make it quick, then."
"Y-you psycho...!"
Ian replied earnestly to her instinctive outburst.
"Not a psycho. A mage."
For a moment, she wondered if the words meant the same thing—then wet herself.
Drip drip drip.