The Mana Power Plant (3)
Vrooooom!
An unscheduled flight was anything but comfortable, to put it mildly.
“Gah!”
The Heavenly Silkworm thrashed its body like a madman, driven by a single obsession: to shake Oscar loose. If the thread he was clinging to hadn't been silkworm silk, it would have snapped a dozen times over by now.
And my spine's about to snap along with it... The moment I get back, core training is tripling.
Even now, the muscle training he'd been squeezing in between everything else was finally proving its worth. The frail body he'd had right after waking could never have endured this.
Keiiiii!
The Heavenly Silkworm stole a glance down at him — and immediately shot straight up like a bolt.
Whoosh!
In an instant, Oscar punched through the clouds and squeezed his eyes shut.
“...!”
The crimson waves of dusk-tinted cloud below were a breathtaking sight, but he had no room to admire the view. The frigid air at this altitude was deadening the feeling in his skin, and his lungs felt close to freezing solid.
But that goes for this thing too, doesn't it? It can't hold out up here for long.
As if to prove him right, the Silkworm suddenly twisted its body around to face him.
Kihihi.
A victor's laugh bubbled out of the creature.
Of course. Up here, there's no Veronica to keep it in check — and no way for me to dodge an attack, either.
Kihi.
The beast's gaze slid to his right hand. He was still gripping the gun, true — but he was holding on by sheer willpower alone; there was no strength left to pull the trigger. Well aware of that fact, the Silkworm let out a nasty laugh and yawned its mouth wide open.
A Heavenly Silkworm's bite force can chew through solid steel.
No matter what he did with this battered body, he couldn't evade those densely packed rows of teeth. And the moment he accepted that uncomfortable truth, the taut thread of the standoff went slack — because the Silkworm began plummeting toward him at a terrifying speed.
“...Hoo.”
Head tilted back, Oscar exhaled a soft breath at the sunset clouds hanging upside down in his vision. His lips moved.
“...They say people have two eyes so that we can see another's strengths and weaknesses at the same time.”
“And two ears so that we listen twice as much as we speak. Or so they say.”
Then, without a shred of hesitation, he released the thread — his very lifeline — from his left hand.
Kihihihihi!
The Heavenly Silkworm, maw stretched wide as it closed in, cackled deafeningly. Was the sight of an enemy embracing death that funny? Or was it simply delighted its plan had worked?
Gazing at the great, razor-sharp teeth filling his vision, Oscar continued.
“And the reason people have two hands...”
His left hand, suddenly free, took Trinity from his right.
“...is so we can land one more hit. Right?”
He aimed it straight into the gaping jaws of the Silkworm, now close enough that a miss was utterly impossible.
...!
He caught the flicker of something like panic crossing the beast's jet-black pupils — and in the same instant, Oscar's left index finger boldly pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
Naturally, his left shoulder shattered as well. Both shoulders throbbed with pain, and insect fluid splattered across his face — but Oscar smiled.
“But you've only got one head. Which means I win, you damn bug.”
KRAKABOOM!
Its head gone entirely, the Heavenly Silkworm shuddered from head to tail before going utterly limp. Plummeting fast, Oscar took one last long look at the spectacular sunset and murmured:
“...Save me, Veronica.”
He'd already angled his fall toward the power plant's ceiling. But from here on out, there was nothing left for him to do — his mana had run dry down to the very last drop.
...
Watching the plant rush closer, his consciousness began to blur. A moment later, the instant his body passed through the power plant's ceiling, a rasping voice rang out.
“Air Cushion! Gust Hand!”
WHOOM!
The Air Cushion caught him first, slashing his falling speed down to a fraction — and then a pair of hands rose up and wrapped around him, layered like flower petals.
THUD!
As Oscar hit the ground in a billow of dust, Veronica came limping over, dragging one leg behind her.
“Hey — hey! You alive? Or...”
Hers was a trembling voice. Slowly, she reached out her hand, then took hold of Oscar's cold collar and shook him, carefully.
If he dies like this, then I...
The moment her lips clamped shut and her head dropped — Oscar's eyes, which had been squeezed shut like a dead man's, flew open.
He looked around once, breathing hard.
“Hah! Hah... am I alive?”
“...You're asking me that right now? You absolute lunatic!”
“GRAAAH!”
Her fist caught him square in the shoulder, and Oscar howled. What followed was a long, long stream of nagging — equal parts worry and swearing — until finally:
“Oscar! Veronica! Are you two all right?!”
“...Elder, I think my left ear's stopped working.”
The moment Oscar confirmed that the White Tower's rescue team — Maxim at its head — had arrived, he let go of consciousness entirely.
“Tower Master! Tower Master!”
A man — Oscar — stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing out at the ashen fortress in the distance. Slowly, he turned his head. The subordinate who had succeeded in catching his eye spoke up.
“The final front has collapsed.”
“...Are you certain?”
“See it with your own eyes.”
Known as the Brain of the White Tower, and one of only two Level 8 mages in the entire tower — Majiro Wilson cast his signature spell, Eye of the Sky.
At once, a vivid image unfolded, as if he were looking down upon a battlefield hundreds of miles away.
“...”
For a while, Oscar watched in silence as his allies retreated in flawless, orderly fashion. Majiro went on.
“Judging by the sheer size of the demon army, they must have decided there was no winning a frontal engagement. They'll keep pulling the line back, most likely.”
“How far will they fall back?”
“...If it were me, I'd fall back as far as Simon Canyon. It's ideal ground for a defensive stand.”
Simon Canyon.
Oscar rubbed his tired eyes.
“Worst case.”
“Worst case,” Majiro agreed.
Because their own territory — Shilin — sat squarely on the road to Simon Canyon.
Majiro asked, carefully. “The message is an obvious, deliberate threat... what will you do?”
“Ignore it.”
The answer came not from Majiro but from the other Level 8 mage among them — Radan Lockwood, known as the White Lion. The man who wore the head of a white lion he had hunted with his own hands spoke bluntly.
“Isn't us turning around exactly what they want?”
“...Are you out of your mind? If we don't go back now, every last territory citizen and mage in Shilin dies.”
“And if we don't press on now, the chance to kill the Great Emperor will never come again.”
“Enough.”
The two of them were forever at each other's throats over their differences in thinking, even on ordinary days. After reining them in, Oscar cast a quick glance around.
More than a hundred of his people stood waiting on his decision, and his alone.
“...”
Most of them, no doubt, wanted to turn back. They were worried about the family and friends in the tower and the territory — and of course, so was he.
As Oscar turned his head back toward the ashen fortress, a trace of loneliness crept into his eyes.
You've thrown me a cruel question, Great Emperor.
There was exactly one reason they had gone without food and sleep for weeks, wandering this barren land: to assassinate the Great Emperor — gravely wounded in battle — among the demon ranks.
And he's in that fortress right now.
His opponent had surely sensed his presence too. That was why he was using the army to threaten him.
Go back, the message said. Or tonight, you lose everything you hold dear.
I...
Deep in thought, Oscar bit down hard on his lip and activated the communication spell. A familiar face appeared before his eyes.
[Well, if it isn't the Tower Master? What brings you calling at this hour?]
“Vice Tower Master Marlon. I have orders.”
[...Give them to me.]
The old man's eyes, sensing something, hardened.
“Evacuate every citizen of the city into the tower immediately. Then request reinforcements from the Imperial Palace, and activate every defensive formation the White Tower has.”
“...Tower Master. Are you serious?”
At Majiro's question, Oscar answered with a voice calmer than it had ever been.
“There's no doubt that if I turn back now, I save the tower and my people.”
But in the meantime, the Great Emperor would heal his wounds — and the chance to kill him would vanish forever. If that happened, humanity would have — generously speaking — less than three years left before extinction.
A bitter smile crept up the corners of Oscar's mouth.
“A truly vicious question.”
It was a question forged from pure, concentrated malice — designed so that one of the two, the White Tower or humanity, was guaranteed to be sacrificed.
“...Then it must be right to open an eternal tomorrow, rather than buy a fleeting moment.”
That was the answer he had chosen.
“Are you confident you won't regret it?”
“...”
Regret. Maybe I will. No — I certainly will.
How could he not? This was a choice to abandon everything he had for the greater good.
Because of today's decision, the archives and treasures the White Tower had spent centuries accumulating would burn and be destroyed. The people of the territory would die. He could say with certainty that he would regret this choice for the rest of his days, cursing himself for it.
But.
Someone has to make the sacrifice.
It didn't have to be him and the White Tower — but they were the ones with the highest odds of success.
With a bitter smile, Oscar replied.
“Probably. But I'll never say the word 'regret' out loud.”
“Tsk. Your funeral.”
The man who knew his character better than anyone reluctantly gave in, and Vice Tower Master Marlon's voice sounded from the communicator.
[I, too, will simply trust your decision and follow it, Tower Master.]
“Thank you. I'm counting on you, Marlon.”
[Think nothing of it. At long last this old man gets a part worth playing, I'm honestly delighted— oh, my. Tower Master, your disciples are pestering me to let them speak. Are you all right with that?]
Picturing his rabbit-like disciples, Oscar nodded.
“Let them.”
The instant he said it, cheeks as soft as fresh-baked bread crowded in front of the screen. His youngest disciple — barely five years old — Sasha.
[Master! When are you coming home?]
“Once our Sasha sleeps a few more nights, I'll be back.”
[How many more nights do you have to sleep before you come?]
“Hmm... let's say a hundred nights, to be safe.”
[That's a widdle bit too many... can't you just come home tomorrow?]
Watching Sasha's voice wobble, he steeled himself against the urge to soften.
“There's just too much work. I'll come back as soon as I can.”
[Master! Then how about I come over there instead? You always say you put your heads together when things get tough!]
At that moment, the second disciple, Gilliott, barged in, pressing his palm down on Sasha's head.
[Sheee, get off my hair! You dummy!]
[My my, what a way to talk to your big brother? And the dummy here is you, obviously. Missing a front tooth and everything.]
[WAAAAAH!]
But before long, the eldest disciple, Lloyd, appeared and gently mediated.
[The Master is watching. Behave. And Gilli, you apologize first. Why did you make her cry?]
[This crybaby bawls at the drop of a hat. You know that, big brother, so why bother?]
[You pressed her head first this time.]
[I didn't even press that hard...]
[WAAAAAAH! It huuuurts!]
Is that a magic tower or a kindergarten? An absolute madhouse.
Having barely reconciled the two, Lloyd spoke with a composure unusual for a nine-year-old.
[Master. Don't worry about things here. I'm here, after all.]
“Right. And as I keep saying...”
[When you're gone, I have to look after the younger ones. Correct?]
He knows it so well now, I don't even need to say it.
For a moment, Lloyd looked up at him with earnest, grown-up eyes. Then, carefully, he extended his little finger.
“A promise again, is it?”
[...Please promise you'll come back after sleeping a hundred nights.]
Honestly, who else could be a sworn servant of promises like this boy.
Only after Oscar hooked his own little finger around Lloyd's did the boy's face finally brighten.
[You promised. You'll come back — you swear it.]
“I do. I promise.”
I'll come home. No matter what.
And the moment a faint smile touched his lips—
[...Then why didn't you keep it?]
Tears of blood dripped down from Lloyd's enormous eyes.
The shock hit him like his heart had plunged through the floor — and in the next breath, the hot blood welling over from beyond the communication screen soaked Oscar's fingers in an instant.