Mission (6)
The corridor swept by the storm of blades was soaked in blood.
Even so, nothing stained Spinel's feet as she walked through the gruesome scene. Loftily alone, she strode through the air itself, and so she never had to tread upon a single bloodstain.
Spinel Cloverbloom.
This was the power an Archmage of the Cabal possessed.
"It's finally a bit quieter."
Spinel spoke lightly after clearing the passageway. There had been a surprisingly large number of them, yet it seemed no great difficulty for her.
Archmages were all such beings—living combat weapons capable of facing countless foes alone. It did not matter what magic they had learned. Simply reaching the 6th Circle was threat enough. That was why every mage dreamed of the realm.
"Be careful. Great Wisdom should be nearby."
And our opponent, Great Wisdom, was one such Archmage as well. A true mage rather than an Instant Mage, and the only one permitted to reach the level of Archmage—that was Serina Edelbit. With no way of knowing what magic she might unleash from the very start, it was best to stay on guard.
"No need to get scared already."
"You're overflowing with confidence."
"That's how I've lived. And that's how I've survived."
It was a rather carefree way of thinking. Perhaps it was precisely because she had lived that way that she seemed to shine.
After that exchange thick with confidence, we crossed the passageway the bodyguards had been holding. At the far end of the corridor filled with darkness, wary of whatever enemy might wait beyond, I flung open the door that reeked of gunpowder and blood.
"......"
Creeeak.
With an eerie sound the closed door opened. An office with the lights out, just like the corridor, greeted us. Faint breathing. The sharp scent of blood. And intermittent soft moans. In the pitch-black darkness, a faint presence was watching us.
"More... quite a bit noisier than I expected......"
A familiar voice echoed through the office. My eyes began to adjust a little to the dark. In the blurry field of vision where shapes were starting to form, I turned toward the presence I felt. Finding the owner of the voice in the narrow office was no difficult task.
"So you were here."
"What... manner of fellow are you......"
There stood the figure of an old woman, limping and bleeding. The one all called the greatest mage. Great Wisdom, whom countless mages had followed. The city's last orthodox mage stood blocking our path in a more wretched state than anyone.
"Does that matter?"
"......"
"You're going to die soon anyway."
Heh heh.
Her deflated laugh filled the office. Eerie and unpleasant. Yet the voice that seemed drained of strength still spoke clearly of her condition. Honestly, it was not a particularly pleasant voice to hear.
"Young man... you have no manners. If that young lady knew... she'd be sad."
At Serina's following words I flinched. I clearly remembered encountering Great Wisdom before. I had thought it only a fleeting connection, yet her description was more detailed than expected.
"......Do you know me?"
"Yes. As one ages, things that were invisible...... keep, keep becoming visible."
I had anticipated something like this might happen, but Serina seemed to know exactly who I was. I could not properly make out her voice or face. Yet she was seeing something special. Indeed, it was a power worthy of the Successor wanting her dead.
I drew the pistol from my coat and aimed it at Serina as I spoke.
"You've lived far too long."
"Not wrong. Now, I've eaten far too much......"
Her voice was trembling. Whether from the damage of rebar and its byproducts or not, Serina's condition did not seem normal. I thought the fight might end more anticlimactically than expected.
"Did you want to live that badly?"
"Want to live... you ask? It's not that I want to live."
"Then why did you do those things?"
"You've already seen it all, it seems."
The traces of people strewn about the corridor. Great Wisdom was prolonging her life by offering children as sacrifices. A hundred years. Perhaps even longer. To continue a life longer than anyone's, she was endlessly burning other lives. Even hearing my question, she expressed no denial.
"Right. It wasn't a pretty sight. Just how many have you devoured?"
"That, even I no longer know. Too much time... has passed."
"I'll ask again. Did you want to live that much?"
What does one live for? For what does one sacrifice others? Great Wisdom's answer to that was simple.
"The Empire. In the Empire's darkness... there are those called the Cabal. Just as you lot have come to me now."
"What of it?"
"I have a role to drive out that darkness of the Empire—that kind of role. Even the deepest darkness......"
To bring down the Successor.
The moment I heard Serina's answer, I paused my hand and pondered. If Great Wisdom were fully prepared, could she defeat the Successor? Well. No matter how I thought about it, that was not the case. It was a fight with a time limit from the start. And Great Wisdom was fated to die right here and now.
"It's foolish. You cannot defeat the Successor."
"Heh heh. Once, there was a great prophecy."
"A prophecy?"
"The Ruler of Death... shall step down. And the Ruler of Life shall take their place."
Great Wisdom possessed high-level prophetic abilities. The prophecies she conveyed were not tales to be dismissed lightly. The Ruler of Death. And the Ruler of Life. Perhaps the Ruler of Death most likely referred to the Successor of the Cabal—for the magic he used had similar effects. Then who was the latter? Usher Hayes? Or someone else entirely? At least it was clear that the subject was not the dying old woman before me.
"At least it doesn't seem like you're the protagonist of the prophecy."
"Do you think it impossible?"
"Yes."
"A mage. I am a mage."
"What of it?"
"Mages use magic, and magic makes the impossible possible."
No sooner had those words ended than Serina's demeanor changed. Her slurred pronunciation returned to normal. The hazy gaze of the old woman revived with clarity. A final burst of life, they call it. Like a last thrashing before the end, she stood more robust than ever.
"Archmages—every one of them is granted a Mission."
"Suddenly... something's changed."
The air enveloping the surroundings shifted. At the ominous change, Spinel waved her hand. Her scattered blades began to gather in perfect unison.
"What all mages call the truth of their inner self."
"The true self hidden in the darkest place showed me the path to take."
I had no intention of listening to her story any longer. I pulled the trigger of the pistol I had aimed.
Bang! The muzzle spat fire as the bullet flew toward her. But the fired bullet failed to achieve its purpose. Barrier magic that defended against physical attacks unfurled. A semi-transparent magical barrier arose, blocking the space between Serina and us.
"Magic is not some miracle."
Why had this happened? The hint was contained in the words she had uttered. Serina Edelbit. She was a 6th-Circle Archmage. Every Archmage is granted their own Mission. And they live faithfully to the Mission given to them, devoting their full power to a grand goal that pierces through their life. This was no exception even for orthodox mages who had built their learning in the proper order.
"There is no such thing as a miracle that occurs without any price."
A Mission is usually what the mage themselves truly desires. Only the earnestly desired will is recognized by the world and takes its place as a milestone guiding one's life. But sometimes, it becomes a shackle—just as with the old woman before me. A goal for life? Or a life for the goal? A tale not easy to conclude.
"So no matter what I must sacrifice, whether a hundred years or a thousand, I will survive to the end."
Click.
I loaded the next round and looked at Serina. The story of her that I had once read in the novel flashed through my mind. Mission. The tale of the Mission granted to the old woman before me.
"......Until I bring that one down."
—Survive to the end.
That was the Mission given to Great Wisdom. And the old specter that still clung to her even now.