Labyrinth (3)
"Is this really the place?"
Builder Nicholas.
Called the Builder for the magic that raised walls at his command, he glanced at Calvin standing beside him in full plate armor. Even a look at that suit was enough to make a man feel claustrophobic. Its thickness alone set it apart from the knightly plate of old chronicles — thick enough that, to the naked eye, ordinary bullets looked incapable of punching through. Only Calvin, with his Strength magic, could wear the thing and still move.
Whether it was the crude, vision-blocking helmet or pure natural talent, Nicholas's experience had taught him one hard fact: Calvin had a spectacular gift for getting lost.
"Doubting me again, I see."
"It'd be stranger if I didn't. The number of times you've picked the wrong direction already exceeds what fingers can count."
"…That's because you keep throwing walls up everywhere."
"Those walls are the only reason you're walking around in one piece."
Calvin let out a short breath and drove his fist into the iron door ahead of them.
Bang!
His gauntlet punched through the metal. The door crumpled and flew off its frame, clearing their path. Beyond it stood security officers with guns already raised.
Nicholas stepped back and spoke to Calvin.
"Looks like you actually found it this time."
"I told you I was right."
"Ah, fine. You were right. Finally not wrong — how impressive."
"You might try trusting your partner a little more."
They traded their usual pointless grumbling, but the security officers had no intention of waiting for them to finish.
Bang! Bang! Baaang!
Muzzles flared in rapid succession. A storm of rounds streaked toward Calvin, and he ignored every one of them, settling into a charge.
Clang. Claaang.
Sharp metal-on-metal rang out as bullets struck his armor, flattened, and skittered away. Nothing the officers fired could pierce that slab of plate.
"The bullets…?"
"Don't stop shooting!"
Panicked, the officers poured on more fire. Round after round left their barrels, and none of it did a scrap of useful damage.
Runaway Train. That was what this city called Calvin — partly for armor thick enough to recall a tank's hull, partly for the way he charged without a flicker of fear.
He weathered the barrage, drew a breath, coiled, and hurled himself forward. The flexible joints of the armor took the strain as his body launched like a cannon shell.
Kuuung!
Floor tiles shattered and sprayed in every direction. Calvin slammed into the nearest officer with a heavy, bone-deep impact. The man crumpled, crushed, and screamed.
"Guh—!"
One down in an instant. Calvin's gaze shifted. Another officer nearby scrambled for the trigger, but Calvin's hand closed on the muzzle first.
Crunch. Crrrunch.
The barrel, caught in that thick gauntlet, bent like soft taffy. The officer stared from his ruined rifle to Calvin and back — then Calvin's fist drove into his skull.
"…"
Leaving the newly silent man behind, Calvin turned for fresh prey. Fear had already soaked into the faces of the officers ringing him. Even against a mage, bullets were supposed to find flesh. The despair of watching every shot bounce off was something no training could prepare them for.
Bang! Kwaaang!
Only after Calvin's heavy fists had done more work did Nicholas, who had been watching from the rear, stroll up beside him.
"All cleaned up?"
"Finished. Tamer than I expected."
"You certainly made a production of it."
Around Calvin, more security officers than one hand could count lay pulped and still. Strength magic of the 5th Circle had amplified his power to the point where he could tear iron plate bare-handed. For an ordinary person, a single clean hit meant a fatal wound.
Calvin scraped blood from his armor and looked at Nicholas.
"Not even a warm-up."
"I imagine not. Just don't take the security forces lightly. Those people come hunting with professional gear."
"I know."
District 3 was a different world from the outer wards — different quality of security force entirely. Overconfidence and a careless call could put a man behind bars in short order. Nicholas had watched plenty of criminals die at the security forces' hands. He offered the warning as a reminder, then walked on toward the vault.
"All right. Shall we go in?"
"…Hold on."
Nicholas had just opened the door and started through when Calvin, following behind, stopped dead and looked back. Nicholas leaned against the frame and frowned at him.
"Calvin. What is it this time?"
"We've got company on our tail."
"On our tail?"
"Not many of them, from the look of it."
Pursuers. Few in number. Nicholas ran the possibilities and settled on an answer. Security forces. Bounty hunters. Private guards. Whichever it was, a small team was moving to stop them.
"Calvin. Going to handle it yourself?"
"I'll clean them up and be right back."
"Don't get cocky and die out there. Partners like you don't grow on trees."
"Waste of worry."
Calvin brushed off Nicholas's concern and broke into a run toward the concrete wall blocking the way ahead.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
The heavy tread of full plate echoed through the department store. Nicholas watched him go, sighed, and turned his attention back to the vault.
The moment Usher shut down the restraint collar at his throat, he and I crossed the first wall that had been barring our path.
Blinking straight through that thick concrete left a faint wave of dizziness in its wake. Balance before a Blink and balance after never quite matched; that tiny mismatch was enough to cause trouble. The spin wasn't severe, but a short rest between walls looked necessary. Watching Usher chain Blinks without so much as a wobble made him look almost unfair.
"Usher Hayes."
Once the dizziness settled, I called the name of the man who had been scanning our surroundings nonstop since we cleared the wall. Usher stopped searching and turned a look full of irritation on me. The reason was obvious. Neither he nor Ney, who worked with him, had ever spoken his full name in front of me. The fact that I knew it had clearly caught him off guard.
"…So you knew my name too."
"I'm Percival Smith. Pleasure to meet you."
"Ney, and now my name. You dug those up somehow. Got a hobby of running background checks on the security forces?"
"No such hobby. I simply make a point of knowing the important people in this city."
Usher huffed a dry laugh.
"I'm important to this city?"
"You're the one standing guard at the side of a young lady from the Terdos family. You're going to claim that doesn't count?"
"A fairly polished excuse. Fine. We'll leave it at that."
"It's not an excuse. It's the truth."
It wasn't entirely empty talk. Ney Terdos was one of the few people in this city who could honestly be called upper class, and she used that standing to stride through the security forces as she pleased. It was also why Usher enjoyed more latitude than the other hunting dogs.
"So. Where are we headed now?"
"First we find a directory board."
"A directory?"
"If the elevators are still working, riding one down will be cleaner."
The concrete walls Nicholas had raised carved the department store into arbitrary compartments. The mere presence of those barriers constrained everyone's movement inside the building. Even so, would he have bothered wrecking the elevators? I doubted it.
"We need to change floors?"
"There's mithril jewelry in the vault. That's almost certainly what the raiders are after."
"And now you know where the vault is, too."
"I do. I'll guide you there."
"That kind of information is supposed to be top secret. How exactly did you get your hands on it?"
Usher's questions stayed sharp. I kept my face easy and answered without hesitation.
"Even a pack of common thieves knows it. Is it really so strange that I do?"
"Smooth talker to the end."
"It's a required virtue for a first-rate merchant."
"…We're crossing another wall. Get ready."
Thud, thud.
With that, Usher started toward the concrete wall opposite us. I followed and closed the distance. The moment I drew up beside him, he gripped my shoulder and pulled in mana.
Blink
The instant Usher cast, my field of vision flipped again. The same small lurch rolled through me. I steadied my breathing and waited for the world to settle.
When my sight locked back into place, two figures stood in front of us.
"What do you think you're doing?"
A clean-faced young man, and behind him a man in a suit. The same pair Sinel and I had run into earlier now blocked our path. Knighttail Knights — a man who still called himself a knight in an age of chaos fixed us with a razor-sharp stare.