The Variable (4)
“……!”
For a moment, Kaya Lockwood thought she was dreaming.
Her entire field of vision had been filled with a fist — and beyond it, faintly visible, was a colossal wave.
A mental image…… he says?
Impossible. A mere Level 3 mage, comprehending the Property of Mana was one thing — but imprinting his own mental image into his magic?
If something like that had connected while my protective enchantments were down, like just now…….
Even for her, there was no way she'd have walked away unscathed.
Even as her expression froze over, the time that had felt like suspended magic came to an end.
Damn it!
Oscar bit his lip. His mana reserves had run dry, and Isolated Garden had collapsed just like that.
He'd been so close. If it had lasted one second more — no, even half a second — the strike would have landed clean.
The instant Kaya regained control of her body, she threw out Acceleration and leapt back in a huge bound.
“Ghk!”
Oscar's fist punched through nothing but her afterimage. The killing blow had failed — proven by the ten-odd meters of distance that had opened up between them in a single breath.
“…….”
As Oscar stared at the gap between them, she was staring at something else entirely.
Or rather, she was staring at the footprints stamped into the small mound of snow piled up in front of her.
Those footprints were proof that she had fled from her opponent. Her heart was still pounding violently.
She couldn't tell anymore.
Am I still trembling with excitement……?
Or was it the aftermath of that flash of mortal danger she'd felt?
She slowly raised her head and looked at the genius before her — no, the monster.
“What the hell are you?”
A Level 3 mage possessing this kind of battlefield judgment and combat instinct simply made no sense. Even the final attack — that strike carrying the sound of a wave — was a magic she had never once encountered in her life.
Building a spell like that at his age, at his level — you can't just call that talent. That's beyond it.
Dangerous, she thought. Genuinely, sincerely.
Squeeze. Clench.
Her fist closed and opened, closed and opened. Her instinct to crush this sprout before it could take root warred against a mage's curiosity about what fruit that sprout might bear if it were ever allowed to grow.
“…….”
Oscar met her complicated gaze head-on without letting a single thing show. For two reasons.
One was that he didn't have the strength left to so much as react.
And the other was……
Ah, if I'd known this would happen, I shouldn't have gotten mixed up in it.
—because he no longer needed to react at all.
KWANG!
A pitch-black sword plunged into the ground between the two of them.
“……The Black Sword?”
The moment Kaya recognized the blade and lifted her head with a furrowed brow —
against the backdrop of fireworks of every color filling the sky over Baran City, a man fell like a meteor.
BOOOOM!
The man in a deep navy uniform stood guard before Oscar and the unconscious Kilian like a shield.
His black, night-dark hair cropped short matched the careworn, gaunt face perfectly.
“I am Chief Superintendent Walker of the Imperial Security Bureau.”
Following Bureau protocol, he announced his identity first — then yanked the Black Sword from the earth with a crunch and spoke.
“Kaya Lockwood. Effective now, you are under arrest on charges of murder, arson, and seventeen other crimes.”
The forest's previously slack air pulled taut like a drawn thread.
A hair-trigger standoff where it would surprise no one if either side dropped dead at any moment.
After glaring at each other for a long beat, Kaya spoke first.
“……The Emperor's Black Sword.”
The suppressed irritation in her voice confirmed it for him — the Imperial family had, this time, actually sent proper reinforcements.
A Level 7 knight. He wouldn't lose even measured against Kaya Lockwood.
And that wasn't even the whole of it. He could feel mana signatures converging on this place from quite a distance away, one after another.
Every one of them estimated to be a Level 5.
“And the Bureau's elites on top of that?”
Kaya, sensing the same thing he did, pinched the bridge of her nose elegantly. The Black Sword alone was trouble enough; going up against the elite squad he commanded on top of it would be a genuinely difficult fight, even for her.
“Tch.”
In the end, after running the numbers in her head, she clicked her tongue and let her mana fall away.
Now that the Imperial family had caught wind of the Purple Brigade's involvement in the Baran mayoral election, there was no profit left to be had here. In other words, fighting further was simple bad math.
Her blade-sharp aura dispersed like smoke, and a harmless smile claimed the corners of her mouth.
“Okay, clean surrender. I'll just head back quietly.”
“Sorry, but I have no intention of letting you walk away nicely.”
“A person who knows exactly when to back off — that's what a wise person is, y'know? Mm-hm.”
“……You're not listening to me.”
Kaya, brushing off the Chief Superintendent with utter ease, lifted one foot.
In the same instant, as if everything before had been nothing, the forest's air began to shudder. A pair of crimson eyes swept over her and Chief Superintendent Walker in turn.
“Both of you — I won't forget the debt I owe tonight. And especially you.”
In the gaze that bored into her, conflict still lingered. The eyes of someone weighing whether to kill or to spare.
“Let's meet again, brat. Next time, for sure.”
Kaya — all seven of her tattoos activated — drove her heel into the ground.
BOOOOOM!
A shockwave swept the entire area, and Walker hastily threw up a blade barrier to shield the two behind him.
“…….”
When the dust clouds cleared, the woman was nowhere to be found on the crater-scarred clearing.
“Taking a hostage. How cowardly can you get.”
Walker clicked his tongue lightly, and the Black Sword bled its color away, returning to the appearance of an ordinary blade.
He sheathed it and asked, “What on earth were you thinking, charging at a woman like that? You could have lost your life.”
“…….”
Bang! Pop-pop-pop!
The only answer was the racket of fireworks.
Glancing back, he found Kilian unconscious — and Oscar already out cold beside him.
Walker watched them for a moment, then murmured quietly.
“……But you held on. Well done.”
The heroes who had saved this city tonight were the young mages of the White Tower.
Ah.
Every time he dreamed, he was reminded of it — dreams wore a faint filter over everything, lending the atmosphere a hazy, nostalgic softness.
Pointlessly so.
Outdoor training grounds, by the looks of it.
On this day, his past self was well-fed. Judging by the sun's position overhead, it had to be shortly after lunch. He was walking toward the forested grounds of the White Tower.
“He startled me.”
“Every now and then he just sits up in a tree like that, so quietly……”
“He's so fierce and dependable on the battlefield, but somehow up close he's a little terrifying, isn't he?”
The mages whispering as they emerged from the forest hurriedly bowed to him. He nodded back perfunctorily and continued inward — and his gaze rose, naturally, to the crown of the great tree.
“What are you doing up there?”
Perched on a thick branch sat a man draped in the pelt of a white lion. A wall of muscle that no one would ever mistake for a mage at a glance — made all the more so by the fact that he'd stripped off his shirt and worn his robe like a cape over it.
“I'm looking at a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
He kicked lightly off the ground and settled down beside him, and the predator's two eyes turned toward him slowly.
“A family photograph,” he replied, shifting his gaze to the picture in his hand.
“You look at that thing every day. Doesn't it get old?”
“It doesn't. Wonderfully enough.”
Oscar stole a glance as he sat down. The family in the photograph looked remarkably happy — Radan's beautiful wife clinging to his arm, and a little girl of three or so bawling her eyes out from a safe distance, terrified of her father's lion head.
“At least for the photo, why not take that thing off your head? Then Kaya wouldn't cry, would she?”
“……I cannot.”
Radan shook his head, firm and immovable.
“I am the chieftain who leads the forest's warriors, and a mage who represents the White Tower. There must be dignity.”
“In other words, your face is too pretty for any dignity to take hold?”
“I, too, wish to possess a face as manly and striking as Maxim's.”
“……The man certainly is manly-looking, I'll give you that.”
Like a fresh-dug potato from clean country air, that sort of face.
Oscar nodded, then glanced at his wife and asked, “You've got a second one coming, don't you?”
“So I'm told.”
“Impressive. I'd be too scared to have kids — what if they came out looking like me?”
“If they take after you, at least their mouths will be utterly insufferable.”
Radan laughed, shoulders shaking, and went on. “But I think you'll be fine. You'll be a good father.”
“And what on earth gives you that idea?”
“The way you treat your comrades, your subordinates, your disciples — it's plain enough. You'll be an even worse pushover than I am.”
“……Shut up.”
Oscar scoffed, then asked, “This one's a boy, isn't it?”
“That is what the tribe's diviner says.”
“So someday he and Kaya can join hands and come to the White Tower together. Nice.”
“I have no intention of forcing my children to become mages, even if they choose otherwise.”
“……Their father is one of the mages who represents the White Tower, though?”
“A dream is something one dreams for oneself. Not something parents dream on their behalf.”
Radan gazed at the photograph once more.
“Above all — if they are my children, they will know what loyalty and honor are. Whatever they do, wherever they go, they will do it well.”
“……Still, if it comes to it, send them to the White Tower, would you? I'll teach them properly. Really.”
“I will consider it. You, I could trust.”
From within the lion's head came a low rumble of laughter.
At the soft rasp of something peeling, Oscar opened his eyes.
Phew. Thank goodness.
For a second there he'd thought he'd have to throw down with that thick-headed brute again.
He looked up at the ceiling — this seemed to be a bedroom in the Hoover estate. When he turned his head, he found Kilian sitting on a chair, diligently peeling an apple, arranging the slices neatly on a plate — and then diligently eating them himself.
“……Doesn't the custom go: peel the fruit, give it to the patient?”
“Oh, you're awake?”
The man replied around a mouthful of apple. “The priest says you're on nothing but easy-to-digest soup for a while. So I'm eating it on your behalf.”
“If that's the plan, why peel it and put it next to me at all?”
“Eating it like this makes it a proper get-well visit. Tastes better that way.”
“…….”
He'd forgotten. A forest tribe warrior is something to be felt with the heart — never something to try to understand with the head.
“Eat a lot,” Kilian said generously.
“Much obliged. The apple's quite good.”
Oscar pushed himself upright with a grimace, and Kilian spoke. “Jake brought in a High Priest. The man took one look at you and asked what in the world you were supposed to be.”
“……Ah, the gentleman Marine called in, I take it?”
It was a fair reaction. He'd healed the man up good as new days ago, and now here he was reappearing as a critical patient.
“Treatment's mostly done. Says there'll be no lasting problems.”
“How long was I out?”
“Three days.”
For a longer unconsciousness than he'd expected, his condition was good. He'd dreamed, but nothing had degraded, and it had ended cleanly. Above all, that priest fellow was a genuinely skilled healer. Aside from some mild muscle aches, there was nothing worth worrying about.
“And your body? You holding up?”
“Forest warriors recover quickly by nature. I was given a clean bill of health in two days.”
“Must be nice being built like a rock. What's the situation?”
“The Security Bureau's elite squad has arrested the surviving mercenaries and raided the Sweet family. Marc Sweet is in custody, and his secretary, scared half to death, spilled every piece of corruption she knew, one after another.”
Good — things went smoothly. With this, Baran City would not fall into the drug cartel's hands.
“…….”
Oscar studied Kilian's face in silence.
Considering he'd fought a blood feud against his own family, he looked remarkably unbothered.
……Or was he simply acting unbothered? Oscar couldn't tell which was the truth.
One thing was certain, though: to his eyes, the man looked like nothing so much as an apple-eating machine.
“Master Oscar! You're up!”
Just then, Jake entered the room beaming. Oscar examined his own body here and there and asked, “Is it alright for me to be up this soon? I hope I'm not overdoing it.”
Haven't I heard that exact line from Marine too? Apparently this fragile-looking body of his was very good at drawing worry out of people.
“I'm perfectly fine. Thanks to you bringing in the High Priest.”
“That was only right of me. I never…… I truly never imagined Marc Sweet would actually be arrested.”
“I told you, didn't I? That he would pay his debt.”
The two of them exchanged smiles, and Jake spoke up with energy. “I, well — my dream used to be to follow in my father's footsteps and become a great politician. But I've changed my mind.”
Oscar looked at the boy's shining eyes and gave an awkward smile, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Embarrassing as it was, he heard this sort of thing often enough.
“Thank you for thinking so well of me. If you work hard, I'm sure someday you'll become as fine a mage as I am.”
“……Sorry? Ah — well, that would be lovely too, but I'm going to become a civil servant and join the Security Bureau. I want to punish the wicked there, and save even one more citizen who's been wronged.”
“…….”
Beside them, Kilian snorted around his apple, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Oscar cleared his throat. “Ahem — a fine dream. With your spirit, Jake, I'm certain you'll make an excellent civil servant.”
“Thank you. Oh — and this is the payment we agreed on earlier.”
In the envelope Jake handed over was a check for one million bel. Of that, two hundred fifty thousand bel belonged to Kilian.
“The commission is received, in full.”
“My heart says I should give more, but…… the family has quite a lot to sort out itself.”
“This is more than enough.”
After all, so long as the four hundred thousand bel owed to the Blood Tower was covered, he was comfortable.
Jake bowed deeply once more in gratitude. “If you ever find yourselves visiting Baran City again, please do reach out.”
“We will.”
“Yes — you must! I'll treat you to the finest food this city has to offer.”
The cheerful Jake left the room with his attendants in tow — and then Chief Superintendent Walker stepped into the bedroom.
“Expensive heads, the pair of you.”
“……I'm sorry?”
He looked back and forth between Oscar's and Kilian's heads. “There was a three-hundred-thousand-bel bounty on your head and your friend's. Placed by a woman named Ara Sweet, I'm told. Do you know her?”
“We've met, once or twice.”
“She'll be locked away as well. She's had plenty of people she found tiresome killed over the years. Then again, life on the outside may prove a crueler punishment for her than any cell.”
Fair enough — that might be true. The Sweet family, which had been her pride itself, had collapsed outright, and there were more than a few who held grudges against her.
“And that was a fine judgment you made.”
“What would that be, sir?”
“The Calling Crystal. Jake Hoover mentioned it — that it was you who used it.”
“……Ah, well, you see, what happened was……”
It went without saying that the Imperial Calling Crystal's codes were classified in the extreme. If the man asked how he had known them, what possible answer was there?
Just as a cold bead of sweat slid down his temple, Walker said, utterly unconcerned, “Is the Tower Master keeping well?”
“……Beg pardon?”
“I suppose with things so dire, there was no leisure for exchanging pleasantries between you.”
Ah. So he'd assumed Oscar had asked Sasha to contact the Imperial family on his behalf.
Oscar saw no particular reason to correct the misunderstanding.
“I should be going soon.”
“Already, sir?”
“Not already — I'm only leaving now, after all this. Stopping by here has buried me in work.”
The Security Bureau must be terribly busy. Which meant, presumably, that this world had more than its fill of criminals to catch.
“That sounds exhausting, sir.”
“One simply does what must be done. Rest well.”
Just then, Walker — already turning to leave — stopped abruptly, looked back, and asked, “Are the mages of the White Tower all like you two?”
“…….”
Kilian glanced sidelong at him and left the question hanging. After a moment's deliberation, Oscar asked, “What do you mean, like us?”
“All of you, like you two……”
Walker let the words trail off and lowered his head. “No — it's nothing. Rest well.”
He left with a stiff, clipped farewell — and halfway down the corridor, he found himself looking back one more time.
Every mage he had known before had been, almost without exception, self-interested — people who prized their own gain above all else. But the two White Tower mages he'd encountered this time had been a little different.
If the White Tower mages the older generation knew had all carried that same feeling……
Why the White Tower had become their wounded finger — why they longed for it so.
Just a little, he thought he might understand now.