Chapter 99
Chapter 99
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: Good Material
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[Who is Eddie Howard, caught by the newbie?]
[Taming Master]
(Photo of Eddie taken from afar)
Ed Howard.
Born in England, his real name is Ed Junior Howard. Too long, so we'll call him Eddie from here on.
This bastard Eddie—after some mumbo-jumbo about the Clock Tower, he killed his master and fled as a runaway mage. The omitted parts are just him studying at the Clock Tower.
Anyway, after leaving the Clock Tower, this guy went completely off the rails by starting to use anomalies on civilians. The reason hasn't been revealed, but speculation points to testing magic and lethality. Not that it matters.
Every anomaly Eddie uses is dangerous. Mental attacks, plenty of physical ones too. Most mages wouldn't survive a direct clash with him. I wouldn't guarantee victory myself.
And this newbie supposedly killed that mage himself. Got ambushed, but twisted his neck in return.
(Frog question mark photo)
Fuck, newbie, how the hell did you do it?
[Recommendations 103][Disrecommendations 0]
[Comments]
-No, seriously. Even established mages can't guarantee victory, and a mage who's been learning for less than half a year took down this lunatic testing spells on civilians?
ㄴSumming it up like that, yeah, it's insane lol
ㄴAmbushed and countered with a stomp lolololol
-The thing he bragged about last time. Primate Slayer Knife? Sliced him with that?
ㄴEven so, how'd he get close? Eddie just stand there like an idiot saying welcome?
ㄴWhy so mad, you fucker.
ㄴㅗ
[Okay, analysis complete.]
[HeatDa]
(Mage thumbs-up photo)
Eddie? You got no talent.
[Comments]
-From a mage who wouldn't last a second against Eddie.
ㄴHeatDa: Bullshit, I'd win.
ㄴlol
ㄴHeatDa: Keep splitting hairs. Want me to really split you?
ㄴThreatening the Emperor of the Island is badass af.
[But seriously, when are we stopping with calling him newbie?]
[Ear Bug]
He crushed Eddie, so he's no longer a skill newbie. It's ruined. Rapid corruption.
When's the gonik!
A woman with red hair stood at the dockside, quietly facing the sea breeze, and left a comment on the freshly posted thread.
-Dolores: How about Lady in Red Shoes?
ㄴEar Bug: Piss off.
"Why? It's a really good name!"
She pouted her lips at the immediate reply and glanced down at her shoes. Below them, the corpse had a hole punched straight through in the exact shape of her shoe.
The corpse, dead without even closing its eyes. Staring at it as blood poured from holes all over its body, she grumbled.
"People just lack girl power, that's what!"
Dolores Victoria.
A specialist in puppetry and hardening spells, she washed her bloodstained shoes in seawater while tapping on her phone.
ㄴDolores: I'm sure the newbie will love the name I gave! Fellow girl comrade and all! Ohohohohot!
Dolores posted the reply and beamed.
"I wanna see his face! Bet it's a beautiful woman with a girly personality!"
She turned around, lost in a fantasy of tea time with the Ian she'd imagined.
A dim warehouse at the dark dock.
Mannequins tore apart the gruesomely murdered corpses with grotesque movements. Dolores nodded in satisfaction at the sight.
"This wraps up another one!"
The sound of flesh being crushed pierced fiercely through her voice.
*
Two days later, Eddie’s bounty was deposited into Ian’s account.
Exactly 250 million won in Korean currency. Not a huge amount for a notorious mage, but the Clock Tower apparently didn’t think much of Eddie, so it couldn’t be helped.
If he’d caused massive property damage or casualties there, they’d have been aggressive. But he only killed his own master. No need to hunt him down like mad dogs.
Hence the modest bounty.
After all fees, 250 million.
He got it because there was a body too. Otherwise, even less.
Not that he’d done it for the money from the start, so he didn’t mind much. Satisfied with the unexpected income.
"Thanks for handling it cleanly."
[No problem. We had some free time anyway.]
Ian’s workshop.
In the dark space blocking all outside light with curtains, Ian held his phone and talked. His interlocutor was the Management Bureau agent from the hotel.
[But now that you’ve claimed the bounty, the Clock Tower will hear of Eddie’s death. The Cartel won’t reveal the killer, but they’ll quickly learn it happened in Korea.]
"Hmm... Does that pose a threat or loss to me?"
[Hard to say. Just thought you should know.]
"Got it. Thanks for the heads-up."
[Yes. That’s all from me.]
Ian exhaled, ended the call, and lay back on the sofa.
Clock Tower.
England’s mage organization, practically the origin of all mages.
So insular that even fellow mages couldn’t easily access info unless they’d visited. All one knew was it’s the mages’ homeland and the only magic education institution.
‘Books mention tons of schools and internal power struggles, but that’s it.’
Were Clock Tower mages friendly to Eastern ones? Would they accept a self-made mage with no bloodline, just a picked-up grimoire?
Nothing certain. No predicting their reaction to Eddie’s death. Ian didn’t want trouble with them personally, but life didn’t always go smoothly.
They might try killing a rootless mage. Or rush for his grimoire.
If so, Ian would have to kill them.
Killing Eddie already happened; a few more wouldn’t change that. Better to snap necks from the start as a warning than play nice and get leashed. No need for pointless risks.
Naturally, Ian had no intention of groveling just because it was the Clock Tower.
Hierarchy clear. No starting off collared.
‘Best is mutual ignorance. If they learn he has an Outer God grimoire, they’ll react somehow.’
Historically, grimoire-bearing mages were all insane. Massacres standard, cannibalism, indiscriminate slaughter, land corruption. Disasters followed.
Ian was the sole exception, but the Clock Tower wouldn’t see it that way. Best avoid detection.
“...Hoo.”
Ian cut his thoughts there, exhaled long, and turned his head.
On the table.
Alchemy materials he’d prepped entered his view.
A metal beer mug, salt, bowl of horse blood, bone dust, holy water, and Ian’s blood.
Ingredients for a soul-holding chalice. Most from the Cartel, holy water self-made.
Holy water was surprisingly simple. Water in a clear cup, pinch of salt, chant spell. For purity, add resurrection herb and age, but he skipped to salt only.
Turned out high quality. Sprayed on elevator ghost, nearly purified it. Stopped just before, or it’d have vanished.
Anyway.
Materials ready, time to craft. Ian started immediately.
Drew magic circle slowly on premium parchment. Intricate geometric patterns, precise without flaw. Placed mug on top, poured in holy water and horse blood, mixed. Added salt and bone dust carefully to the diluted red liquid.
Chalice prep done. Ian uncorked his blood vial, sprinkled at circle’s edge.
Rim turned red, circle glowed, liquid boiled.
“Source granted to life. Purity held in souls.”
Ian chanted, gazing down. Grimoire in hand emitted faint light.
“I provide you rest. Offer memories to me, embrace God’s arms. I, proxy and consort, command: Find peace.”
At chant’s end, liquid evaporated, scattered in air. Red smoke rose, slipped back into mug, clung to surface, melted in.
Crafting complete. Ian exhaled, lifted the beer mug.
Not plain glass but ornate metal, giving a mystical vibe. Ian examined the red-tinged surface, set it down, fetched Eddie’s head. Placed on table, carefully extracted brain.
Took considerable time. Not a doctor.
Who’d think he’d ever extract a human brain? Half a year ago self would slap him for bullshit.
“Hngh, got it...”
After much effort, Ian succeeded, face bloodied, brain in hand. Reverently stuffed the pink lump into the mug, mashed with Laughing Buddha rod.
Crunch, squish!
Brain pulped noisily. Felt like a mad scientist, odd mood. Rod transmitted alien sensation.
Anyway, soul vessel prep solid. When fully smoothie’d, Ian stopped, added drop of his blood.
Chanted in that state.
“By the great one’s name, I command: Entity in soul prison, reveal yourself.”
[......Ahh.]
At chant’s close, Eddie’s face faintly formed in smoke inside mug. It stared at Ian, spoke.
[......You called?]
Eddie’s soul spoke exactly like in life. Ian grinned at alchemy success, wiped brain fluid and blood from hands.
“Self-introduction first?”
Soul bound to chalice max five minutes.
Extract value within.
*
Today’s English sky was its usual gloomy self. Result of the Industrial Revolution anomaly that practically resided there. Endless spawn despite kills, always summoning storm clouds.
Much improved. Early days caused smog, many respiratory cases. Storm clouds over smog? England welcomed it.
Still, no clear skies irked. Dawn wine under moon was a delight, but a week without? Chest tight.
“Tch.”
Man clicked tongue, stuffed pipe with tobacco. Beret shielded eyes from table lamp.
“Extermination soon, so I’ll endure.”
Grumbled, lit pipe. Harsh smoke burned leaves, toxic fumes heated lungs.
Knew it was bad, but loved the sensation too much.
How to quit? Even famous Holmes carried tobacco and opium lifelong.
That Holmes now an anomaly forcing murders at London’s Baker Street, but Management Bureau’s problem. Clock Tower didn’t care. Anomalies theirs.
Man thought so, propped feet on table. Then knock at door.
“Elder. You there?”
“Enter.”
Familiar voice, man replied. Door opened, long-haired young man entered, bowed deeply.
“Greetings to Dylan Duke, elder of the Clock Tower’s Portentum School.”
Portentum School.
One Clock Tower branch, for anomaly mages. Dylan one of three elders. Meant top magical skill acknowledged.
Long tenure didn’t guarantee elder status. Only skill earned the title. Dylan proved via blood, sweat.
Though one peer killed master, fled ninja-style, his skill real.
Thus, never lacked confidence.
Same now. Satisfied gaze at polite young secretary, exhaled smoke.
“What is it?”
“To the point. Eddie’s dead.”
Secretary stated flatly. Calm for announcing school trash’s death.
Not odd. Eddie fled 30 years ago. Few hated now; more saw as past shame.
Still, school criminal must die. But his skill and murder-focused anomalies made Clock Tower hesitant. Lose good mages? No thanks.
So bounties. Outsource to anyone.
Ten years posted.
Finally, obituary.
“Finally croaked.”
Dylan tsked at peer’s death, puffed pipe.
Not upset. Indifferent.
“Who got him? Bounty hunter? Grimoire hunter?”
“Seems fellow mage. Corpse too mangled otherwise.”
“Hmm, Europe then.”
“No. Korea, that Asian country.”
“Korea?”
Dylan tilted head in surprise.
“Mages there skilled enough for Eddie?”
“Dunno. Backwater.”
“...Hmm. Fine. He’s dead, done. But personally curious. Who’s the mage? Maybe that bitch Dolores in Korea.”
“Investigate?”
“Handle it. If free, yes; busy, no. Doesn’t matter.”
Dylan glanced at sudden thought.
“By the way, heard the news?”
“What news?”
“Mediterranean rumors.”
Dylan smirked, foot tapping.
“Book of Moses 8 fully gone. So 6 and 7 seek revenge.”
He cackled.
“Fun times ahead. Read magic papers.”