Mission (2)
Time slipped by, and before I knew it, the day of the operation had arrived.
The afternoon office, which would normally have been bustling, sat empty and still. Just as we'd discussed beforehand, Sinel and the Sword Saint had gone off to enjoy their respective leave.
Alone in the silent office, I prepared myself for the mission.
"Hmm."
I pulled on a hooded sweatshirt I'd bought at the market, then fitted a gas mask over it that covered the lower half of my face. Looking in the mirror like that, I looked like something straight out of an end-of-the-world movie. The hood shadowed my eyes; the gas mask hid everything else. In an outfit like this, no one was going to pin down my identity easily.
"Ah… ah…"
I used telepathy to test the voice I'd project outside. Since I couldn't use my real voice, I planned to relay everything through telepathy instead. To anyone listening, it would sound like a high-end voice modulator — one of telepathy's quieter advantages.
"I'll need to switch weapons, too."
I gathered the arms I'd purchased separately for the job. Unfortunately, my usual smoke grenades were off the table for this operation. Unless I planned to operate anonymously forever, showing off my signature methods was a bad idea. It would have been nice if I could move with a higher circle active, but that was another matter entirely.
"Fifth Circle, huh…"
There were plenty of reasons a circle wasn't easy to raise. In my case, though, the biggest problem was that I was a special exception. My trials had been scaled up a full tier above my actual circle — that was what the Agent of Mysteries had told me. If the difficulty of my trials had truly been raised, then reaching the Fifth Circle meant I had to pass a Sixth Circle trial.
The Sixth Circle. In other words, the trial to become an Archmage.
"…"
A mage who reached the Sixth Circle was granted a Mission by the world itself. Paradoxically, though, the only way to reach the Sixth Circle was to fulfill that Mission first — to become more honest with your own heart than anything else, to set in motion the thing you truly wanted, and then to have the world recognize that resolve as your Mission. That was the only path a mage in this world had to the Sixth Circle.
Missions differed from person to person, and so did their directions. Countless mages had cleared every trial before it without a hitch and still never reached the Sixth.
"Still a long way off, I suppose."
Click.
I checked the safety on my pistol and slipped it into my pocket. Preparations for the operation were complete. From here on out, it was live combat.
Time to walk into the beast's maw on my own two feet.
"So you've arrived, Dark Merchant."
On the rooftop of a building stacked high with rebar, Spinel floated in midair with her hood drawn up, greeting me. Behind the rooftop where she hovered, the Magic Tower stood in plain view — which made the choice of meeting place immediately clear.
"Is this everyone?"
"Your voice… Hmm. Doesn't matter, I suppose. Yes — the people here are all of us."
"I see."
Beside Spinel stood a masked figure and a middle-aged man. I didn't need to ask who they were. The masked one would be the Ghost Army — a Cabal executive and a top-priority wanted criminal. If the Ghost Army was moving, the sparse visible numbers made sense. They called themselves an army for a reason; their ranks ran deep.
"Who's this one?"
The middle-aged man leaning against the railing asked. He had sharp eyes and faded hair swept straight back. I knew him, too — another Cabal executive, the Shapeshifter.
With three Cabal executives gathered in one place, additional support was hardly necessary. Looking at a force like this, it was no wonder the Great Intellect had died so helplessly in the original story.
"This is the Dark Merchant I told you about."
"Dark Merchant? Why did you bring this guy?"
"Because he's helping with the operation."
"Hmph. What a waste of time."
The Shapeshifter snorted and fixed me with a stare. Those sharp eyes raked me up and down — and a moment later, a crushing pressure rolled over my entire body. Pressure. A technique only an Archmage could use. He was clearly testing me.
"Got a problem?"
"Of course I do. I've got no reason to take in some nobody I know nothing about."
"You assume a lot. I never asked to be taken in."
"Then what?"
"I'm commanding this operation. You follow me."
There was no way I'd simply be handed command against people like these. Under normal circumstances, quietly tagging along would have been best — but that wasn't what Spinel wanted.
I pushed through the Pressure and walked straight toward the Shapeshifter. Being unable to see my expression behind the gas mask was a small mercy. His face twisted at my words.
"What are you, kid? Looking to die?"
A murderous voice rolled across the rooftop. The threat wasn't a joke. Cabal executives were the sort of people who got comfortable killing the moment things went sideways. One wrong answer and I was dead for certain. I'd known I was walking into a death trap, but it still felt like stepping barefoot onto a blade.
"Are you confident?"
"You doing this because you trust Spinel? That woman isn't going to guarantee your life."
"I heard Secondary Beat is moving."
"…What?"
"Without me, do you have the confidence to kill the Great Intellect?"
Of course they did. Honestly, this operation didn't need me at all. I only came because I already knew the Great Intellect was going to die, and I had no choice but to show up. Even so, the Shapeshifter couldn't answer easily. There was a gap in the information we held. No one wanted to take the long way around when an efficient route existed — and if he took a crippling loss here, the Cabal wouldn't protect him.
"Ha. Unbelievable."
"Fall in line. I'll guide you from the vault locations all the way to the Great Intellect's office."
"You — what the hell did you even come here for?"
What I wanted wasn't anything I could get from this place. But I couldn't say that outright either. Nothing looked more suspicious than a man who wanted nothing. I had to name something — money, information, anything — preferably something that didn't overlap with theirs.
"Keep the money among yourselves. I'm more interested in the Magic Tower's classified documents."
"An information broker, was it? Figures you'd be drowning in curiosity about intel."
"And I came here as part of a deal with Spinel. If you have a problem, take it up with her."
Only then did the Shapeshifter's gaze shift to Spinel. She smiled and nodded. Beneath her hood, those innocent ash-gray eyes peeked out.
"Isn't it better to wrap this up cleanly? Doesn't even cost extra."
"What did you use to drag a guy like this out?"
"If you want an information broker, you sell information. I told him a few things I know."
"You didn't sell Cabal secrets, I hope."
"He already knows without being told, doesn't he? Looks like he's got the major pieces locked down."
This time it was the Ghost Army who took interest. The man standing in for the entire Ghost Army — the Commander — stirred. He looked from the rebar stacked around us to me, curiosity flickering across his face.
"Now that's an interesting story. You know that much about the Cabal?"
"Is that interesting?"
"There's quite a lot even I don't know about the Cabal, you see."
"Of course there is. Wouldn't it be strange if a stand-in knew too much?"
Click.
A cold sensation pressed against my temple. A gun barrel was leveled at my head. At some point, a Ghost Army member had appeared at my side and trained a weapon on me. Exposing a secret had apparently earned me the hard approach.
"I'm not sure I follow."
"Cute little stunt."
"I'm simply grateful you're enjoying it properly."
I glanced at Spinel; she let out a sigh, the look of someone wondering why we were bothering with this posturing at all. But a certain amount of sparring was inevitable the moment you met Cabal executives.
Whoosh. Spinel flicked her fingers, and her silver blade shot forward, stopping just short of the Commander's throat. It hung there, slowly rotating in place.
"That's enough. Now."
"What is this, Spinel?"
"He's a guest I brought. I have no intention of overlooking that kind of rudeness."
"Are you saying you'll make an enemy of the entire Ghost Army?"
"If we fight, your master dies before you do."
The Commander flicked a glance toward empty air, then raised a hand and signaled the subordinate beside me.
"…You may stand down."