Chapter 101 - The Ruins of Malaka (1)

Alon’s head was still spinning from Deus’s eight separate threats to kill someone, but that soon passed. By the time he had threaded his way through the throngs of mercenaries and explorers and reached the jungle’s edge, he heard a very familiar voice.

"Huh?"

He turned toward it.

"... Count Pallatio—no, Marquis?"

"Riyan Agulus?"

Standing there was Riyan Agulus, the daughter of the Red Magic Tower’s master.

"It’s been so long, Marquis. And congratulations."

"It has. And thank you for the congratulations."

Smiling warmly, she shifted her gaze, only for her eyes to widen.

"... Could the person behind you be...?"

"Deus Makalian."

Apparently recognizing that she was acquainted with Alon, Deus gave a brief introduction. Riyan let out a quiet "Wow" of admiration, then looked at him with a somewhat curious expression.

"Oh. Ahem."

Belatedly collecting herself, she glanced between them with curiosity and asked, "What brings the two of you here...?"

Alon immediately noticed that her question contained two different questions.

'I suppose it would seem a little unusual to see us together like this when we belong to different countries.'

And Deus was quite famous, after all.

"Our purposes differ, but we both have business in the jungle, so we’re traveling together."

"I see. Then is it just the three of you?"

"Yes."

When Alon nodded, Riyan made an offer.

"Would you like to join us, then? We’re on our way to the camp as well."

"Hmm..."

With Deus present, Alon doubted they would face much danger whether they traveled as a trio or with a larger group. Still, there was always the chance that they might get lost.

"That sounds good."

He accepted her offer.

Before long, Riyan introduced Alon to their traveling companions. The party consisted of fifteen mages, five mercenaries, and one guide. There was, however, one unusual detail.

"... These aren’t members of the Red Magic Tower?"

"To be precise, we have people from both the Green Magic Tower and the Red Magic Tower. The two towers are collaborating on this expedition."

A collaboration between two magic towers. As Alon took that in and nodded, a voice came from beside him.

"What’s going on?"

The voice sounded somewhat rough. Standing there was a man who fit Alon’s image of a typical mage, holding a wooden staff as tall as himself.

"Theon. Come over and say hello."

Though he frowned at Riyan’s words, the man approached and looked Alon, Evan, and Deus over.

"Introduce yourself. They’ll be accompanying us to the camp. This is Marquis Pallatio and Deus Makalian."

"What?"

Riyan’s words startled him, but only for a moment.

"A pleasure to meet you. I’m Theon, one of the professors at the Green Magic Tower. You must be Callivan’s First Sword, and you must be Marquis Pallatio. Is that correct?"

Quickly composing his expression, he bowed to Deus and Alon.

"... I look forward to traveling with you."

"...? Likewise."

After staring at Alon for a moment, he abruptly turned and walked away.

"He looks young to be a professor. Impressive."

Evan sounded impressed, seemingly aware of how far along mages usually were before earning that title. Riyan nodded.

"Yes. The Green Magic Tower considers him an exceptional talent. He’s not yet twenty-five, but he’s already reached the threshold of the fifth tier."

"Wow, the fifth tier?"

"Yes."

Evan looked even more impressed. Alon, however, remained silent for a moment, his face expressionless, before muttering quietly, "... He seems oddly cold toward me alone."

He generally didn’t care much if someone treated him coldly, but this was a little strange. Having someone become distinctly chilly after learning his name was a new experience.

"Oh..."

Apparently realizing what had happened, Riyan smiled awkwardly.

"Well, um... It’s nothing serious, really."

"Nothing serious?"

"Well, hmm..."

After a moment’s consideration, Riyan made sure Theon was already far away, then whispered, "You know those rumors... about you, Marquis?"

"Rumors?"

"The ones about Penia."

"Ah."

"Theon actually has feelings for her."

"What?"

Genuinely rather surprised, he looked toward Theon.

Penia was beautiful. That was an undeniable fact. The problem, however, was her personality. Alon knew just how disastrous it was—enough to wipe out all the advantages of her looks.

'He likes that Penia Kraisinne? That arrogant woman who looks down on everyone...?'

Thoroughly bewildered, he asked again.

"... You mean that man likes Penia?"

"Yes."

"Why on earth...? No, is that a little rude?"

"Not at all. Honestly, I don’t... really understand it either. Especially since Penia has thoroughly trounced him before."

Riyan, too, briefly looked toward Theon as though she couldn’t comprehend it.

"Anyway, I think that’s why he’s acting a bit childish."

"... Well, all right. I understand."

Alon nodded without asking anything further. Normally, he might have wondered why a grown man was displaying such jealousy. Unfortunately, his fascination with Theon outweighed that concern.

'... Is he a masochist?'

Just as he reached that conclusion...

"Marquis—"

"There’s no need."

Alon firmly cut off Deus, who spoke as though he had been waiting for his chance. He didn’t need to hear the rest to know exactly what Deus was going to say.

"... Understood."

Deus removed his hand from the sword hilt he had been fingering, looking disappointed.

"Deus."

"Yes, Marquis?"

"Have you been hearing voices lately, or having troubling thoughts? Anything like that?"

"...? No, nothing of the sort."

Deus denied it, but Alon’s unease only grew.

Afterward, Alon traveled with Riyan’s party to the expedition camp. Thanks to the good progress they made before lunch, they reached it before sunset.

"... This feels rather unusual."

"Does it?"

"Yes. Honestly, I imagined something a bit run-down, but this is practically a small village."

Alon nodded at Evan’s observation.

"Well, it is. Mages and explorers have been here steadily for quite some time."

"Are there no monsters here?"

"It’s not that there are none, but they hardly ever appear in the area where the camp is located."

Leaving Evan to marvel at the setting details he had learned from the game, Alon took in the camp himself.

'It feels different from seeing it in an illustration.'

His memory was faint, but the illustration of this settlement in Psychedelia had made it look much like an ordinary village. Seeing it in person, however, it looked more like a vast, well-organized encampment.

'I suppose the jumble of wooden houses and tents makes it feel that way. It has everything you’d expect, too.'

As Alon thought this while looking at the shops and inns scattered throughout the settlement, Riyan spoke.

"Marquis, I’ll see you again tomorrow, then."

"Yes."

During their journey to the expedition camp, Alon had learned that Riyan’s destination was also the Ruins of Malaka. Having agreed to travel together again the next day, she took her leave.

"We should get some rest for today as well."

"Sounds good."

"Understood."

Alon and his companions entered an inn to rest.

####

The following day, after Alon had slept somewhat poorly in the jungle’s oppressive humidity, Deus told him, "I’ll head out for a while to look for Reinhardt."

"All right. Let’s meet again tonight."

"Yes."

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"If you mean the blessing, I do."

"Good. Make sure you receive it before going, if at all possible. It’s best to have the blessing if you’re going to travel through that area."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

Alon and Deus agreed to separate briefly, each pursuing his own objective before meeting again.

'Honestly, I’d rather keep him with me.'

But Alon knew Deus had his own business to attend to, so he let him go without further hesitation. As long as Deus didn’t enter the Selvanus Zone or any unexplored areas, nothing would pose a danger to him.

A little later, Alon joined Riyan’s party without Deus.

"... Is Lord Deus Makalian not coming with us?"

"As I said, we have different objectives."

"I see."

He set out for the Ruins of Malaka with Riyan, who seemed oddly disappointed.

'... I should finish my business in the jungle and leave as quickly as possible.'

That was what he thought as they traveled.

####

Meanwhile, in the deepest prison beneath the Holy Kingdom of Rosario—a place reserved for only the most heinous criminals—there was a man with no legs.

"Ghh..."

Anderde was still “alive.”

Wearing an unfamiliar face, he writhed in the terrible pain coursing through his body. Yet hope lingered around his mouth.

'I cannot die. Not yet.'

The reason he had survived—or, more precisely, the reason he had been able to seize “this man’s” body—was that the man imprisoned here had once functioned as part of the Machina he had created. Anderde had implanted woody stems in those who became part of Machina. The instant the marquis attacked him, he had thought quickly, abandoned his own body, and transferred his consciousness into this man.

The body was so thoroughly broken that he couldn’t escape immediately, but that, too, had been part of his plan. In this deep prison, where no one came except to hand out rotten bread, he had slowly recovered his strength and taken complete possession of the man’s body. Soon, the man’s face, covered in red woody stems, transformed into Anderde’s. Then both legs began to regenerate.

After confirming all these changes, he gritted his teeth, ambition burning in his eyes.

"I cannot let it end like this. I will prepare again, and I will create a world where everyone can be equal...!"

Neither a benevolent smile nor faith remained on his lips, but the crazed obstinacy coiled within his heart gave him new hope.

At that moment—

"... Huh?"

Anderde saw him. In the deep prison where there should have been no one, inside a cell whose thick iron door should have barred all entry, stood a poised man with black hair and blue eyes, smiling innocently at him.

"Hello."

Faced with the man’s radiant greeting, Anderde did not speak. No—he couldn’t. He could not understand what was happening.

But whether Anderde answered or not, the man continued in his distinctive husky voice.

"Well, honestly, I don’t particularly care what sort of world you dream of or what you’re trying to do, and I’m not especially angry either—but..."

He raised his hand.

"... Even I can’t quite overlook you laying a hand on His Holiness."

CRACK!

Realizing that his neck was twisting against his will, Anderde finally began to thrash in desperation.

"Wait, n-no! No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!!!!!!"

CRRRACK!

In the end, his neck turned through two full revolutions, and he died.

"Why did you have to lay a hand on him?"

Having broken that obstinacy, now nothing but madness, the man walked into the darkness and quietly disappeared. All that remained was Anderde’s corpse, lying alone with its eyes wide in disbelief.