Mage Hunters (5)
Fwoooosh!
Bern couldn't tear his eyes away from the flame flickering above the other man's palm. And no wonder — that fire was his.
"……You stole my flame?"
"Bern, what the hell is going on?"
"How should I know?! Just shut up for a second!"
Snapping at his partner for no reason, Bern poured his mana into reclaiming the fire that was rightfully his. But the flame — a flame that should have obeyed his every command — sat motionless atop the stranger's hand as if it had turned to stone.
Only after a long, frustrated struggle did he finally admit it to himself. The fire that had been taken from him no longer recognized him as its master.
At the same instant, murderous intent surged into both of his eyes.
"You sneaky little bastard! How dare you steal my flame!"
The other man let a Level 4 mage's killing intent wash over him without so much as flinching, and chuckled.
"Flames you stole from someone else in the first place, weren't they? Seems like we're even."
"Calm down, Bern. Don't take the bait from cheap provocation like that."
Jonathan barely managed to talk his partner back from the edge, then coolly studied the man in front of them.
Clearly, this was a blunder on our part.
He'd had no idea a White Tower mage could pull off a trick like that. And why would he? Rumors about their wind magic barely ever traveled beyond Shilin. These were the kind of mages who did nothing outside their walls except deliver packages.
But the situation itself still favors us.
Jonathan rapped his knuckles against Kilian's cheek, flipping the pressure back in their favor.
"Don't try anything clever. I'd advise you not to forget that your friend here is our hostage."
"Hmph."
Fwoooosh!
The flame resting on Oscar's palm spread outward in every direction and began to lick at the walls of the basement. Bathing the once-dark chamber in light bright as noonday, he gave his answer.
"Kill him."
"……What?"
"I said, go ahead and kill him."
"You insane son of a— cut the cheap bluff!"
Bern yanked a dagger from inside his coat, pressed it to Kilian's throat, and growled. A thin line of red trickled down from where the blade's edge had already nicked the skin.
"Does it still sound like a joke? Do you want me to actually kill your friend, huh?"
"I'm telling you to."
But that unflinching hardline only left the two of them flustered. There wasn't a single tremor in the man's eyes.
Gazing at them coldly, Oscar spoke.
"You're hesitating now that it comes to it, aren't you? Unlike a mere Level 3 mage like me, that one knows every intermediate spell the White Tower has to offer."
"……What an idiot. White Tower mages are easy enough to replace, any day of the week."
"Then do it. If you truly believe that. You won't find another treasure like the White Tower's Divinity twice — but I'm sure you know that."
"……"
Watching the two men wrestle with their consciences, Oscar smirked.
"You picked the wrong hostage from the start. If I did everything you told me just to save him, do you really think he'd thank me for it? Be grateful?"
The forest tribesmen he knew weren't the type. That was probably why they got treated like lunatics everywhere they went.
Oscar said flatly,
"Kilian, if you die, close your eyes in peace. I'll avenge you without fail, so don't worry about it."
"……"
Kilian's body began to tremble. Betrayal? Jonathan hurriedly glanced down at his face — and froze.
What is this guy…… is he happy?
Even shaking all over, the corners of his mouth were curling upward. The moment Jonathan confirmed that deranged expression, a chill ran down his spine.
He's not afraid of death?
Even the most battle-hardened mercenaries and soldiers struggled with that. So how was this green young man standing before death with such perfect composure?
To accept his own death with open joy…… he's insane.
But anyone who knew the forest warriors would have said his reaction was only natural. For them, dying like a true warrior was the highest honor of all. Only then could they earn the right to enter their sacred grounds in the world beyond death.
"Damn it all, what is it with you two? A matched pair of lunatics!"
"Nothing to be done about it. Don't touch the hostage. Just kill that one quickly and torture the Divinity instead."
Having reached their decision, the two left Kilian where he was and advanced on Oscar. Watching them come, Oscar silently rejoiced.
Good. Kilian's safety is more or less secured for now……
Which meant it was time to knock their wits clean out of their heads.
『Water』
The basic water spell that surged out behind him scattered across the scorching-hot floor of the basement.
Shhaa! Chiiiisss!
The water vaporized in an instant, thick steam billowing up until the chamber became nothing short of a sauna — a white void where no one could see a hand in front of their face.
"Damn it! Enough of these games! Jonathan! Attack! Bombard him with everything!"
"Already on it!"
Bern and Jonathan unleashed their magic straight into the spot where Oscar had been standing. He threw himself sideways, desperately analyzing the spells streaking past.
Electricity this time, is it?
Perhaps because of the pressure of having their fire stolen the moment they used flames, the spell the pair had chosen to kill him was the Yellow Tower's 『Lightning』.
Crack! Crrrack! Crrrrack!
Dozens of bolts hammered down like machine-gun fire — and then, abruptly, a sizzling sound of flesh being seared split the air.
"GWAAAAGH!"
A scream of pure agony erupted somewhere in the basement. At the sound, Bern and Jonathan's barrage stopped dead.
"……Did we hit him?"
"Wait a moment."
Jonathan closed his eyes and swept his mana through the chamber. Steam blinded the eyes, but mana could not be hidden. At last he located Oscar's mana circuit, opened his eyes, and nodded.
"Judging by the mana I can sense — yes. He's collapsed up ahead."
"……Let's confirm the body."
Swallowing hard, the two inched toward the place where the sound had come from. And what they found there was Oscar, burned pitch-black and dead.
"He's really dead?"
"The residual mana on the corpse is a perfect match. Just to be safe, let's finish it for certain."
Jonathan fired off another bolt to make sure of the kill. But the corpse struck by the lightning dissolved away like smoke, dissipating into nothing.
That's…… the Purple Tower's clone magic?! We were played!
Damn it — which means he's completely erased the mana of his real body? A mere Level 3?!
A feat of artistry their own talents couldn't even begin to imagine. The instant the two realized something had gone horribly wrong —
Shff!
An unpleasant sound came from Jonathan's right.
"Bern? Bern?"
He turned toward where his partner had been standing. No answer came.
"……"
His eyes darted around for a moment — then, without looking back even once, he broke into a run toward the stairs.
Can't see in the steam? Irrelevant.
How many people had they already tortured to death in this basement, after all? Even in ordinary times the place was pitch-black without a single light. He was confident he could find the stairs to the surface even half-blind.
Forget stealing magic — first, get out of here.
Once he made it out and locked the door, the intruder would slowly wither and die down there in the dark. He'd worry about the rest when it came.
Jonathan sprinted up the stairs, and the moment he reached for the door handle —
『Steam Explosion』
BOOOOOM!
The tremendous blast hurled Jonathan backward, and he tumbled down the staircase. Pain crushed the breath from his lungs as the world spun sickeningly around him.
Damn it — cracked ribs.
But he gritted through the distant, throbbing pain and completed his spell first.
"Lightning…… Spear!"
The very pinnacle of the Yellow Tower's intermediate magic — the swiftest spell in existence, believed to outrank every other intermediate spell in the world.
Crrrack! Crrrrrack!
Suspended in midair, the spell howled again and again, as if advertising its own danger.
"How vulgar."
Oscar's scathing verdict drifted over from the far wall. Fearing another clone trick, Jonathan held his fire and glared in that direction.
Thud. Thud.
And the moment Oscar stepped out through the steam and he saw the man raising his mana —
"DIE!"
Crrrrrack!
The Lightning Spear tore through the air. "That's very different from the Lightning Spear I remember."
A dog that bites doesn't bark, and ripe grain bows its head. A true Yellow Tower mage's Lightning Spear never shrieked like that. It flew in perfect silence — and cut off your breath before you even knew it was there.
"And above all, far too slow."
『Fusion Magic: Steam Cutter』
Every wisp of steam in the basement converged before him, remolding itself into a single razor-sharp blade.
Chiiiiisss!
The blade began spinning at ferocious speed — and sliced clean through the incoming 『Lightning Spear』 like it was pudding.
"Th-that's impossible! Lightning Spear is an intermediate spell——!"
"Steal and learn the spells of a famous tower if you like. You'll never steal their essence."
Jonathan read the cold light in Oscar's eyes and raised both hands.
"W-wait! I surrender! I surrender!"
Swallowing hard, Jonathan stole a glance at his partner's body, abandoned on the basement floor. Refusing absolutely to die like Bern had, he pleaded desperately.
"We've stolen all kinds of magic. The Red Tower, the Yellow Tower — even the Blood Tower and the Black Tower. I'll teach you every last one of them. Just please, spare my life."
"……"
Taking Oscar's silence as a sign of interest, he pressed on quickly.
"I-I've heard the White Tower is short on spell variety. So if you……"
"You want me to take the magic you stole, lock, stock, and barrel — and fill that gap with it?"
"I'm tight-lipped. I swear I won't breathe a word anywhere, ever. Okay? Just let me live."
Oscar circled the basement once in silence — then spoke abruptly.
"Was this ever that kind of place?"
"……What?"
"A place so obliging that anyone who asks nicely gets whatever they want. Because from where I stand, it clearly isn't."
There was no way Jonathan could fail to grasp what that meant. His face twisted with malice as he screamed.
"You son of a bitch——!"
CRUNCH!
Oscar stomped his mouth shut, shattering every front tooth, and rumbled low.
"To commit a wrong and feel no shame is to be no man at all. To lack pity for the weak is to be no man at all. And to lack a sense of right and wrong is to be no man at all."
Snap!
A flame rose above Oscar's flicked fingers. He looked at Jonathan — who was, at last, wearing an expression of pure terror — and tossed the fireball toward him.
"Which means, by my standards, you're not a man."
FWOOOOSH!
"GWAAAAAAAAGH!"
The fire that swallowed Jonathan whole in an instant burned far, far more savagely than it ever had when consuming Oscar. Perhaps the vengeful spirits of the Red Tower and Yellow Tower mages these men had hunted had taken roost in those flames.
The basement filled with screams of agony.
"AAAAAGH! Put it out! PUT IT OUT! MAKE THE FIRE STOPPPP!"
Jonathan's voice — never a pleasant sound to begin with — grew worse and worse to hear. His scorched vocal cords gave way to a raw, rasping croak, until nothing but wordless, animal shrieking poured from his mouth.
"GHIIIIAAAAAAA!"
"……"
Oscar watched him for a moment — and did nothing to ease the pain.
He led Kilian up the stairs, looked back down one last time, and closed the iron door.
Creeeak — BOOM!
With the heavy slam of the great door, Jonathan's screams were heard no more.
In a darkened office, a communication device chimed. The room's owner lifted it slowly to his ear, and a careful, measured voice came through from the other end.
[Lord First Finger. Reporting confirmation that Marc Sweet took his own life while in transport.]
"……And so? Is it praise you're hoping to hear for your trouble?"
The voice that left the man's lips was astonishingly soft and refined.
[No, my lord. I merely judged it something you needed to know.]
A brief silence followed. The man closed his eyes, choosing his thoughts, then spoke.
"Tell me. What do you believe the cause of this failure was?"
[The stage grew far larger than we had anticipated. We never imagined the Imperial Family and the Violet Brigade would intervene.]
"True. A shrimp's back broken in the wake of a whale's brawl, as they say. But let's grant that the Violet Brigade was unavoidable — do you know who it was that dragged the Imperial Family into this?"
[……Yes. Oscar Crucian.]
The man leaned back into his chair.
"How very strange. I distinctly recall ordering you, months ago, to deal with him for good — and I distinctly recall you agreeing. Yet between the Cadena Flu, the Cheonjam affair, and now this, he has meddled in everything at every turn. Either the man has become a ghost, or something wearing his face keeps walking around."
[……I have nothing to offer in my defense.]
He could feel the man on the other end of the line so much as breathing with careful deliberation. After letting out a faint sigh, the First Finger continued.
"The Christmas operation is cancelled. Evidently deciding you incompetent, the other side insists on handling it personally this time."
[The other side…… don't tell me—?]
"Yes. The Nightmare Baron has elected to act himself."
[Is that wise? If, by some chance, a connection to the demon race is ever discovered……]
"All measures concerning that contingency are already in place."
Security was, after all, the thing the man guarded and obsessed over above all else.
"Shall we call it luck of the draw? Thanks to your incompetence, I'm granted every opportunity to appraise the skill of a Demon Realm baron firsthand."
[……Once again, I apologize.]
"Then see to it you determine exactly what happens in Vince on that day, and file your report."
The line went dead.
The two returned to Shilin by carriage and headed straight for the Vice Tower Master's office to deliver their report. Upon hearing it, Vice Tower Master Hamel reacted quite literally with intense emotion.
"Good heavens! The two of you have truly done something enormous!"
The reason for that reaction soon became clear.
"By our current estimates, they've claimed fourteen mages before now. In the end, the towers could no longer stand by and watch — they've dispatched Level 6 mages to the northern territories to hunt the Mage Hunters down."
"Level 6 mages. That figures."
Mages they had nurtured with such care, slaughtered like dogs — how could the towers not be furious? Worse, their own spells might have leaked to outsiders in the process. A matter far too sensitive for any magic tower, which meant the hunters' deaths had been a foregone conclusion, whenever they finally came.
Kilian nodded slowly.
"Men with not a shred of a mage's pride in them. Without Oscar, I'd be dead too."
"Kilian, my boy — always be wary of magic tools handed to you by strangers."
"……Consider the lesson thoroughly learned. Same mistake, never twice."
Seeing his somewhat deflated demeanor, the Vice Tower Master turned his gaze to Oscar next. In eyes that looked upon a treasure, an undisguisable affection brimmed over.
"Congratulations. Thanks to your tremendous showing in Baran, a moniker has finally been bestowed upon you as well, Oscar."
"A moniker?"
In Yeon Country it would have been called a byeolho — an alternate title. A designation, in a word. The way Chief Superintendent Walker was called the Black Sword, or Kilian the Divinity of the White Tower.
My past self had dozens of the things stuck to my name.
The White Mage. Lord of the Wind. The Infallible Sorcerer. The Generator of Mediocrity, and so on. He'd known a moniker would come in this life too — he just hadn't expected it this soon.
Oscar asked, his voice laced with quiet anticipation.
"So what moniker did I end up with?"
"The Young Noble."
The corners of Hamel's mouth curled gently upward.
"That's what people are saying. That the way you cast spells, Oscar, is so elegant and refined."
"……The Young Noble of the White Tower?"
Heat flooded his face the moment the words left his mouth. Where on earth was he supposed to go introducing himself with that? And he couldn't help the way his eyes kept darting sideways.
"I was hoping for something a little more respectable. Take this one here, for instance — the Divinity of the White Tower."
At that, Kilian — who had been sulking the entire time — broke instantly into a satisfied grin.
"Don't be disappointed. The Young Noble of the White Tower grows on you. Has a nice ring, actually. Not that it beats the Divinity of the White Tower."
"……"
Just as Oscar was privately thinking how envious he was, someone knocked at the office door. At the same moment, the Vice Tower Master seemed to remember something and parted his lips slightly.
"Ah — now that you mention it, it's about time for our visitor from the Red Tower to arrive."
A visitor? And a mage of the Red Tower, no less?
Oscar's gaze turned helplessly toward the door.