Banshee (1)
When Essili Silvergaden first saw the message from Sion Illeionhart, she thought it was absurd. Calmly commune with the spirits rampaging to kill them right that instant? Peeking in from outside was worlds apart from fighting them for real inside here. Sion had no idea how dire the situation was. This wasn't the time to leisurely pet some spirits. What nonsense. Was he bragging about second place? All he did was hide and snipe, right? She sneered and mocked him.
"Ah......"
But Essili Silvergaden realized her thinking had been wrong.
-There's no one at Arsen with better eyes than me. And honestly, I'm the only sniper left standing.
-I've found the cause of this mess. Lara Steelhiden in Titania Hall—she's possessed by the first ghost, the origin of them all.
-It's complicated to explain, but simply put, that one's the boss.
Not a single word Sion had said was wrong. Things she'd brushed off at the time were proving true one by one. He'd claimed his eyes were good, but looking back, that was the height of humility. It wasn't just about eyesight. There's a saying for it, right? The Watcher's Eye. Sion Illeionhart had grasped the entire crisis in an instant with his innate insight and given them the optimal path forward. Even in the thick of battling spirits, he'd provided covering fire to help them enter Titania Hall. Without him as their control tower, things wouldn't have gone this smoothly.
...At this point, she had no choice but to admit it.
'Sion Illeionhart.'
Sion Illeionhart hadn't clawed his way to second place by luck. He had the skill and qualities to deserve it. If he'd wanted to, he probably could have taken first. So why settle for second? Was that humility too? Thoughts swirled in her mind. Sion saw far beyond what they could comprehend, peering into the distance. Just how far ahead was he looking? It was almost frightening to consider.
Essili Silvergaden was the first of the three standing there to approach a spirit. Though she'd been skeptical at first, the wind spirit didn't reject her gentle advance. Just as Sion had said, it was like tending to a frightened wild animal. Show hostility, and it panics harder—right now, it had no reason left. But approach with pure intent, without a hint of malice...
-...Wind spirit...... Lokan.
"Yes. That's your name."
-...What happened?
"Someone used you all. I don't know who, but they're possessing that priestess's body."
Spirits were basically good-natured, so the truth would reach it.
-Who could do such a thing?
The wind spirit Lokan regained its senses. The gale whipping through the area began to die down. Lara Steelhiden stood motionless in the center. But three high spirits still guarded her.
Essili glanced sideways. Kyle Ivanstair stood facing the fire spirit. Calming a spirit like this would squeeze every drop of mana from you. Essili could barely stand on her own two feet right now.
"Kyle Ivanstair."
"Got it. I saw everything."
Kyle sheathed his sword. But the fire spirit Ifrit only intensified its flames. Unfazed by the momentum, Kyle calmly extended his hand.
"How about a handshake?"
Whoosh—!
But instead of a reply, a fireball shot out. Kyle didn't dodge—he took it head-on. His fingers flinched in the rising blaze, but his smile stayed steady.
-......
Only then did the fire spirit slowly approach. The flames bristling like a hedgehog gradually subsided. Kyle placed the fire spirit on his hand, just as Essili had done. Scorching agony burned at first, but it soon turned to a warm glow.
"There you go. Thanks for letting me in, spirit friend."
Suddenly, embers sparked. Kyle flinched in surprise but kept gently cradling Ifrit. The spark clung to his sword like static. Sensing something off, Kyle drew it with his other hand. It was his usual sword. Or so he thought—warmth spread from the hilt, and flames erupted along the blade. Strangely, it lacked the earlier heat. It felt cozy, like holding a hand warmer.
"What the—?"
Kyle swung. Flames trailed the arc. Every swing left fiery afterimages. His eyes widened.
"So that's it—a gift, huh?"
No answer came. Maybe because he wasn't close to spirits like Essili, he couldn't hear their voice. Kyle glanced sideways. Elin Beonard was there, pointedly looking away.
"...Me? My turn?"
Next up: Elin Beonard. He denied it was his turn but eventually approached the spirit, trembling. The black earth spirit stood stock-still. Essili wondered if they shared some kinship.
"D-Did it work?"
"Yeah. Seems like it."
"H-Haah, whew......"
Elin Beonard calmed the earth spirit without incident. Only the water spirit Elphin circling Lara remained.
With Elin and Essili drained, Kyle stepped forward.
"I'll handle it."
But a jet of water blasted out as expected. Kyle blocked with his sword, but the heavy pressure wouldn't yield. Even the flames around the blade weakened against it.
Thud—!
A dull crash echoed from behind. Like something collapsing. Everyone but the possessed Lara Steelhiden turned.
The sealed door had crumbled entirely, dust billowing. Amid the foggy haze, a girl's silhouette gripping a sword hilt faintly appeared.
"I'm here!"
Iri de Sugamond swung lightly. The obscuring dust cleared in an instant. Caught in the backlash, she coughed as she burst in.
"You're......"
"Iri. De. Sugamond! Koff!"
Shouting her intro, Iri stood beside Kyle. His sword still fended off the water jet; she supported from behind, adding her strength. Her physique matched Kyle's, so the pressure didn't overwhelm her.
Clang—!
Like striking heavy metal. Kyle's sword, on the verge of being overpowered, slowly pushed back the jet. It cleaved the stream in two. Red and blue trails lingered like afterimages.
"You dare... interrupt me?"
Lara Steelhiden raged. More precisely, the banshee possessing her body did.
Boom—!
Lara Steelhiden slammed her staff down. Ominous mana writhed. It crawled up from the floor like insects, forming a sphere. The massive orb floating behind her looked like another full moon. Once complete, uncontrollable shockwaves would hit—no need to say it.
Kyle checked his watch. Sion had sent just one short sentence.
Kyle let out a smirk. He was already planning that. He glanced at Iri. Elin Beonard and Essili Silvergaden, somewhat recovered, stepped up one by one.
"...You four think you can do something together?"
Lara Steelhiden scoffed at the group.
Mana surged at the tip of her staff aimed at Kyle.
"Rookies like you can't do a thing. You can't stop us. Arrogant bugs get crushed."
"Maybe we're rookies, but we'll see about the results."
Kyle gripped his hilt. Iri beside him crouched low. Elin took a two-handed stance; Essili nocked an arrow. Lara Steelhiden faced the four, staff steady, unmoving.
They crossed the starting line together. Kyle Ivanstair kicked off the ground; Lara Steelhiden unleashed lightning.
"......!"
But the bolt didn't hit Kyle's sword—it struck elsewhere. Kyle dodged by turning; Elin Beonard took it bodily instead.
Kyle kept charging. Lara swung her staff again. A gale howled. But an arrow pierced the wind, calming the storm. Essili's shot—her signature Spirit Arrow, using the wind spirit's power to counter.
Just ten meters left. Lara Steelhiden slammed her staff down. Vines erupted from cracked tiles, writhing to snag ankles.
Crunch—!
But before they could grab Kyle, Iri slashed down. Using the shaking ground, Kyle surged forward. Mere meters away now. One full swing would reach.
Kyle leaped high, raising his sword vertically. Lara extended her left hand.
Clang—!
An opaque barrier blocked him. It didn't budge, like striking diamond. Kyle gritted his teeth.
So close. Blocked by a paper's thickness.
He struck again. The barrier held.
"I told you. You'll just get crushed."
It thickened instead, advancing to crush him.
Snap—!
Lara flicked her fingers. In that split second, Kyle's vision went black.
***
When Kyle opened his eyes, he was in a dim corridor. He drew his sword—flames predictably wrapped the blade. The unseen path ahead faintly lit up. An unfamiliar yet oddly familiar space. Feeling along the walls, he reached a closed door.
"......!"
Voices from beyond. Kyle started to turn the knob but gently pushed instead. It wasn't locked.
Through the gap: what looked like the old Grand Saint's Hall. Peeling wallpaper clung to walls; a man stood in the center. Another figure before him—a maid tied to a chair, visible over his shoulder.
Kyle's eyes widened. Rage boiled in his chest.
"...Why are you doing this to me?"
A faint, broken voice. The maid, head bowed, had no strength left to resist. The man emotionlessly toyed with a vial.
"Was it breaking the plate? Ruining the meeting? Or did you just rub you the wrong way?"
"......"
"Tell me. Please."
The bound maid trembled. Chains on her wrists vibrated faintly. But the man remained expressionless, repeating motions mechanically, like a man without feelings.
"You have no sin."
He plunged a syringe into the finished potion. Crimson liquid filled it.
"If there's guilt, it's meeting me. Blame Arsen. And your eyes for not noticing sooner."
"Steward......"
"With all the transfers and assignments, you should have left Arsen. If you hadn't pried, you might have become the next steward."
The man grabbed her arm.
"Steward, I—"
"Don't call me steward. Even now, with things this bad?"
Without hesitation, he jabbed the syringe into her arm. The crimson emptied fully.
"I'm not the steward—I'm 'Eltus van Zikheim', director of the Belhan Research Lab. Remember the name in the afterlife. A reward for your hard work."
———!
The maid lost consciousness the moment he withdrew the syringe.
"Full of passion—you might even become steward there."
The steward stroked her unconscious hair. An arrogant, irreverent touch. He withdrew his hand—dry, emotionless.
Bang—!
And that was the moment Kyle's patience shattered.