Chapter 47: City of Fanatics (8)

“…”

The grimace from gritting his teeth through pain was gone. The legs that had been shaking were still.

The indignant fury, insisting he was being wronged, vanished like a mirage.

With a face that made nothing of the knife buried in the back of his hand, Pierre stared at Vigo.

“Seems the Silver Blades aren’t that dog-brained huh.”

“Thanks for the compliment, traitor.”

Vigo, who had looked so lax until now, was the sharpest man in the room. Thinking you could fool him had been arrogance.

“This cannot be! What a disaster! T-That man is a traitor?!”

The count slapped the table in agitation. Even the witch hunter, who should have been mankind’s last bulwark, had thrown in with the Golden Dawn.

“Be quiet, Count.”

“…!”

Vigo’s eyes blazed with fury. The count swallowed nervously, unable even to protest.

“Answer what I ask immediately. Do that, and I’ll let you die without pain.”

“How considerate of you.”

Pierre continued in that flat monotone unique to men without emotions.

“How far has the Scales rotted? Is Salieri, that old man, in on it too?”

“Who knows. I don’t care about the ideas of an old fossil left behind by the times.”

“Acting alone, then? Why?”

Pierre stared into the air, his face emptied of everything. He knew there was no hope of overcoming Vigo by force. He was so rational he had no will to resist, so he simply spoke honestly.

“As you know. I’m a product of the Scales of Justitia.”

“I know.”

“They removed my emotions there. Even my hatred for witches was erased. I was raised as nothing but a tool for witch hunting.”

Bitter words, but Pierre delivered them calmly.

“So I began to wonder. Without vengeance, why should I hunt witches? I remember reasons to hate them, but I feel no anger.”

“Hm.”

“Instead, I came to yearn for the witches’ power and philosophy, their mana. Pursuing and worshipping reason alone, I reached a truth where the star awaited.”

“That again, huh.”

Vigo let out a small sigh.

Smart lunatics almost always say the same thing. The more you chase truth, the smaller man becomes, and that is why one must revere the star.

Pierre turned his emotionless face to Nike, then to Rowen, then back to Vigo.

“Listen, foolish humans. We are frail and ignorant. Following the star, pursuing them, is the true path for mankind, and to oppose them is a grave sin and discourtesy. Any human with reason can grasp this truth with ease. You too should receive them now. Look up at the night sky, repent, and pray, bow your heads, bleed yourselves to draw out the tainted blood. afterthedayoftheDescentwhentheworldisoverturned eternalnightwillcome in the world of immortals the Almighty Pale Moon our lighthouse truth flameofeternity O Onicus will descend in person to annihilate the immortals and call back the world of mortals to this land hearmeyou—”

Thwack-!

Pierre’s voice cut off mid-rant.

“My ears hurt!”

Nike had smashed his head rather than listening to him any longer. The demon that would come with eternal night was far away, Nike’s fist was not.

“…”

“Good grief.”

Vigo wiped the blood and brain matter that had speckled diagonally across his face, disgusted. Rowen screwed her eyes shut against the sudden, grisly sight.

“…You brat. Next time, warn us before you kill someone.”

“No!”

“T-This is impossible… He was completely insane.”

The count finally found his breath and spoke. The shock of the spectacle was beyond words.

“Huh? Urk, ugh…”

Suddenly the count clutched his chest in agony.

“Mmph!”

Splaasssh!

Blood jetted from his mouth like a fountain. The table was dressed in scarlet.

Thud.

Clutching his throat, wracked with pain, the count slumped forward and buried his face in the food.

“…?”

“Damn.”

“Count. Dead?”

It happened too fast to intervene. The count’s face had gone blue. Anyone could see he had been poisoned.

“So the food really was laced with poison…!”

“Ghk.”

Startled, Nike spat twice, rattled by the thought that he might have swallowed something without noticing.

Whish! Crash!

Without warning, a dining-room window shattered and an arrow sliced in, silent and sharp.

With the chaos already raging, even Vigo and Rowen reacted a hair late.

Thump!

Only one man moved in time.

Nike was the only one who could respond to the sudden ambush.

Seven arrows stopped in midair. Nike opened his demonic eye and glared.

“Boss. We’re under attack.”

“Hm.”

He grabbed the hovering shafts with telekinesis and checked them. The tips were coated in poison.

The three immediately ducked under the table.

Whish! Thwick, thwick!

Thudududut!

Arrows kept lashing through the window like a downpour. If they hadn’t taken cover beneath the table, they would have looked like porcupines.

Confirming the arrows couldn’t reach, Vigo knit his brows.

“They don’t know the meaning of restraint. For them to assassinate the count, and then violate his castle like this.”

At Vigo’s glance, Rowen darted out, swift as a cat, and dragged Count Simas’s body into cover. She checked for a pulse. Nothing.

Rowen shook her head. The count had indeed been poisoned to death.

“They’re this desperate to secure Nike huh.”

Rumble-rumble-rumble—!

Urgent footsteps pounded on the floor below. A dozen or so, at least.

Rowen bent low and rushed to check outside the window.

“Ah!”

“What is it?”

“The soldiers are being slaughtered…!”

She reported exactly what she saw.

The men guarding the walls, the lord’s soldiers, were having their throats cut by assassins disguised as commoners.

The count’s soldiers truly had nothing to do with the Golden Dawn. They only had to recruit a few on the inside to open doors, there was no need to risk bringing the whole garrison in.

If every soldier inside the walls had been dealt with, then the enemy was clear. Everyone but the three of them was Golden Dawn.

“Nike. Can you tell how many are outside?”

Nike didn’t answer, and instead he focused. His eyes flicked left and right, an ability no ordinary person could emulate.

‘What is Nike… seeing?’

Watching him act as though viewing another world, Rowen swallowed.

Like a man possessed, Nike rattled off numbers.

“Seventeen in the corridor. Twenty-five on the castle walls. Eleven at the gate. Thirty-two on the stairs. Twelve on the lower floor.”

Shockingly specific.

“…?”

“What? You counted all that?”

“That’s basic.”

Nike nodded. With things like this, he didn’t do anything by halves. He had stripped away every hint of levity and pulled every nerve in his body as taut as it would go.

“Huh. Impressive.”

The wonder lasted only a moment.

— Clang!

Not even three seconds later, the dining-room windows shattered to pieces. Smoke hissed from the canisters that flew in.

In an instant, a milky haze filled the room and blinded them. Vigo and Rowen spoke in rapid hand signs, covering noses and mouths.

‘They are poisoned smoke!’

‘Breathe it in and you’ll pass out.’

Nike held his breath for a moment, then just exhaled it away as he couldn’t hold for longer. His fingertips tingled a little, but he could move well enough.

Poison didn’t work on Nike.

The three confirmed each other with their eyes.

The situation spun fast. Their response could be just as free. They had planned nothing from the start, so they weren’t bound by any plan now.

“What do you want to do?”

Vigo asked Nike. From here on, they would follow the male witch’s instincts.

‘Hah!?’

Nike’s breath caught, then he smiled pretending to be confident. Whatever it was, he could just say what his gut wanted.

“Blow the castle up!”

“Hm?”

“The castle…?”

“Yeah! Blow the castle, then hide in the smoke, then follow the stench!”

Vigo and Rowen might have planned to use the smoke to slip away, but under the circumstances, the enemy had probably accounted for that. Do that, and they would be caught.

So they had to strike where no one expected.

How?

With an idea the enemy would never imagine.

‘This bastard. He’s not in his right mind. Not that I didn’t know that already.’

Vigo nodded, granting permission.

Let the joker run wild.

Arrows rained down. Poison smoke billowed up. Dozens of fanatics were shoving doors open.

Thump, thump.

Nike heard his own heart. Every beat felt like mana melting into his veins.

— Nike. For you, the manipulation of mana and the construction of spell circuits is meaningless.

— Just see, feel, remember, and recall.

A simple lesson, Morgana’s advice accepting that Nike was different from other witches.

Just as she said, Nike summoned to mind the flame Morgana had crafted.

Refined, yet beautiful. Small, yet grand. Quiet, yet violent.

To that flame he added a fresh spark of an idea.

Chirr—

“Glass.”

Mana compressed to its limit swirled into a sphere in his hands. Wind rushed in, tossing his ash-gray hair, and crimson-stained eyes flashed with mana-light like a drawn blade.

Nike smiled. The sphere in his hands was beautiful. A turning globe of flame, gleaming like glass.

It felt like he held a star in his palm.

So this was how magic was assembled, composed, realized.

Grinning, Nike let the star he held go.

—!

* * *

Koo-kaa-raa-booom!

Like a volcano erupting, the Castle of Banyaksenir blew apart as a whole. Stones sheared from the walls scythed through bodies, and the flying debris carried the glass flame onward.

“Damn it! What just happened!”

“F-Fire, the castle’s on fire!”

“I have eyes too, idiot!”

“What was that explosion! What could cause that!”

It was an unreal scale of blast. Unless a witch had descended and stirred a natural disaster, it defied explanation.

Moreover,

“What kind of fire is this?!”

“Gyaaah! Put it out, please! Please!”

“Did fire always glitter like that…?”

“Ah! Aaaagh!”

“Don’t touch me! Get the hell away! Don’t come! I said don’t come any closerrrr!”

A fire like nothing they had ever seen.

Water couldn’t quench it. When it touched flesh, it cut like glass shards driven in, then melted as it tore.

People with flames clinging to them leapt into the river, but the fire, as if purifying fanatics, would not go out until it had burned the person to ash.

It was like divine punishment.

“Unbelievable…!”

The fanatics broke into a sweat, panic-stricken.

The entire castle burned bright. The team sent to capture the “offering” alive had surely been annihilated, and even the target could hardly have survived that firepower.

“W-What do we do…?”

“We have to report up the chain…”

“To report, we need to know what happened!”

“Weren’t all the people we report to inside the castle…”

“T-This is bad… What now?”

Faces pale, the fanatics trembled. The field commander was in just as much of a panic.

The Golden Dawn was neutralized in an instant.

* * *

The castle had exploded.

The original plan had been to burn it to the ground, not shred it with glass fire.

As a result, the three of them were caught in the blast and buried under rubble. If Nike hadn’t shielded them with telekinesis, all three would have died.

“…Nike. What did you do?”

Even Vigo, steady as stone, asked in shock.

Nike answered, brimming with pride.

“I blew the castle up!”

“No, I mean—”

Rowen cut in.

“Did you really blow it all up…!”

What Nike had left of the castle was staggering. There was no trace of the original structure. A vast crater yawned as if a meteor had struck.

When a being who wields magic in earnest uses power, this is what happens.

Rowen realized anew how dangerous Nike’s power was, even if the effect was tremendous.

“Huh? I was told to blow it up, so I blew it up.”

“…Fair enough.”

But who would have thought he’d erase it without a trace?

Because the blast was so large, the castle was completely gone, and the place where the three had ended up was underground.

He had acted first and thought later, but the result wasn’t bad. Hadn’t they said the lair was underground anyway?

“Look!”

Nike pointed with his finger.

In the middle of the rubble, where beautiful flames burned, a large hole ran with trickling water.

“Wait…”

“That's it?”

Vigo asked, and Nike flashed a thumbs up.

“That’s it.”

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