Chapter 9 - Misunderstanding (4)

Kalia, the eldest daughter of Xenonia, had just returned to the territory and entered the count’s study when she found herself thinking once more of the man who had already crossed her mind so many times: Alon Pallatio, who had recently killed all his brothers and secured his position as heir to the count’s house.

'... Famous, he said.'

Kalia recalled the look in his eyes as he regarded her. It gave no hint of what he was thinking, indifferent to everything, as though he had gazed into the abyss beyond the north. No matter how often she remembered it, goose bumps rose along her arms.

Because that look had made her realize something.

He was one of her own kind.

Had that been all, Kalia would have stopped concerning herself with him the moment he rejected her offer. His refusal meant they could never be allies, which was as good as saying they would be enemies.

Yet her curiosity persisted because of what he had said.

“Famous... he said.”

House Xenonia was famous. Although it did not involve itself in politics, its wealth and power were great enough to overturn the kingdom’s current situation at least once.

Ultimately, however, that formidable reputation belonged not to House Xenonia but to Count Xenonia himself. None of it extended to Kalia.

And yet Alon had said it, referring unmistakably to her. She had attended only two balls, and far more nobles were unfamiliar with her face than recognized it, but he had called her famous.

Her. Not Count Xenonia.

... Of course, Alon had merely spoken without much thought, remembering her reputation as a mastermind around the time the original story began.

To her, however, those words meant a great deal.

“... How curious.”

Kalia turned her gaze toward the count seated in his study. He was simply working through his papers in silence, his head bowed, as though she were not there.

CLICK, CLICK.

As she walked over to stand before him, the count naturally raised his gaze. Red eyes just like hers looked at Kalia. Though he said nothing, anyone would have thought him full of life.

SNAP!

Until Kalia snapped her fingers.

The instant the sound rang out, intelligence drained from the count’s eyes. His gaze, so keen a moment earlier, became dull and vacant, and his tightly closed mouth fell slightly open, drool spilling out.

The count was plainly no longer in his right mind. Looking at that “thing,” Kalia murmured,

“How did he know? Surely no one knows.”

Her expression filled with curiosity as she recalled Alon speaking as though he knew the secret she had concealed from everyone ever since she reduced her father to an imbecile.

'Or was he merely fishing?'

Still harboring that suspicion, she left the study she had entered to maintain the act she had kept up for the past five years.

“L-Lady Kalia.”

“What is it?”

“There’s a c-corpse in your room...!”

At the unexpected news, she headed to her room.

And there...

“Ha...”

She saw the informant she had assigned to Alon about two weeks earlier, lying grotesquely dead with his neck twisted through two full turns and his eyes still open.

“... Judging by the fact that the brand did not activate, it seems he did not divulge the secret.”

A knight offered this report.

'The informant never divulged the secret, yet someone went out of their way to leave him in my room...'

Considering that, Kalia let out another breath.

“Ha...”

She felt her suspicion solidify into absolute certainty.

“... Well, he’s found quite a weakness to exploit on our very first meeting, hasn’t he?”

She murmured the words with a smile.

####

Evan frowned at the golems glowing vivid red in the already dark night. A mercenary for over fifteen years, ever since childhood, he busily scanned them for weaknesses, unable to conceal his anxiety.

He was confident in his abilities, but that only made him more wary of the unknown things before him. He had experienced more than enough of the dangers posed by an enemy he knew nothing about.

What was more, he had someone to protect. It was the worst possible situation when facing an enemy whose capabilities were a mystery.

There also appeared to be well over twenty of them. As Evan considered how to get out of this predicament,

“I’ll handle it.”

“... Pardon?”

At the sudden voice, he answered with an unwittingly dumbfounded expression and saw Alon already stepping out in front of him. His face remained as impassive as it had been inside the labyrinth.

Once again, Evan found Alon profoundly strange and astonishing. He genuinely could not understand how his master could wear that expression even in a situation like this.

By Evan’s reckoning, at least, they were in considerable danger. More than twenty humanoid golems stood before them, enemies they would have to deal with, and each was certain to possess formidable fighting power.

Yet Alon had volunteered to deal with them himself.

“...”

To be honest, Evan did not believe Alon could defeat the golems before them.

Of course, he knew Alon was extraordinary, and he knew that he had a talent for magic. He was a fully fledged mage who had reached the second tier through self-study, without even a teacher.

Unfortunately, that was impressive only by ordinary standards. It was not the sort of accomplishment that meant anything in this situation. Talented though he was to have reached the second tier on his own at such a young age, a mere second-tier mage would struggle to defeat even one of these golems.

GRRRIND!

Just as that thought ended, the golems, which had remained motionless and silent as though assessing their enemies, all began charging at Alon as he stepped forward.

Then his voice rang out like a pronouncement.

“I impose Constraint.”

####

As Alon murmured the activation phrase, the world stopped.

His vision turned black and white, and the golems charging toward him slowed as though filmed with a high-speed camera.

Then...

[O fragment that carries on Niakula’s great will, name the two constraints you can impose.]

A majestic voice that shook the whole of the surrounding space echoed inside his head. It sounded like a man, a woman, a child, and an old person all at once.

Hearing it, Alon briefly broke into a cold sweat.

'It really is different from the game.'

Constraint, the item he had obtained in the Labyrinth of Whispers, was an artifact that did exactly what its name implied: it imposed constraints on its user in return for a corresponding reward.

Using it brought countless options up before him—a notification window in which he could choose what constraints to impose and what rewards to receive.

But as though reminding him that this was undeniably reality, what appeared was not a notification window but a voice. Merely hearing it made his head spin and his heart pound as though it might burst at any moment, filling him with an uncanny unease.

Alon exhaled, forcibly steadied his trembling heart, and voiced the constraint he had planned beforehand.

“First.”

[Speak.]

“In using magic, I make the use of Babiloia’s hand seals ‘absolute.’”

[What do you seek to gain through this?]

“The power to twist the laws of the world a little further.”

[Granted.]

“And another.”

[Speak.]

“In using magic, I make the use of great Babiloia’s phrases ‘exclusive.’”

[What do you seek to accomplish through this?]

“My wish is the same.”

[...]

The voice remained silent for a while after Alon’s answer—long enough for one of the agonizingly slow golems to lift a foot into the air and set it on the ground again.

Alon wondered whether he had done something wrong, but the majestic voice resounding from the sky dispelled his concern with its assent.

[Accepted.]

Then it conveyed these words to him:

[Human who remembers the hand seals and mysteries of the forgotten great god, I offer my thanks to you who carry on that will.]

“?”

Alon looked bewildered. Of course, his face remained outwardly expressionless, but his eyes were full of questions as he thought,

'Carry on that will? What does that mean?'

Naturally, Alon had no idea what it meant. His reason for choosing Babiloia’s hand seals and phrases as constraints was simple: selecting those two in the game gave the highest magic attack power in return.

Besides, he had chosen these constraints so often that he had naturally memorized enough of Babiloia’s hand seals and phrases.

Of course, he was no genius and had not memorized every hand seal and phrase he had seen in the game, but that did not trouble him. Alon knew where Babiloia’s hand seals and phrases were written down.

Thus the voice from the sky puzzled him, but only briefly.

[I shall always be watching, bearer of that will.]

Alon noticed the black-and-white world gradually returning to normal, and the instant he registered it, the world had already returned to its original state.

Looking at the golems charging toward him from the distance, he raised a hand to test Constraint. At the same time, the mana beginning to stir within his body flowed through his heart and gathered at the fingertips of his raised hand.

The mana gathered at his fingertips was feeble. Though he had drawn on every bit of mana in his body, the sphere of lightning that ought to shine brilliantly according to the book gave off only a weak glow, like the last remaining life of an old man near death.

Yet Alon was neither disheartened nor surprised. He already knew all too painfully that this was his limit—the limit of Alon, the third son of House Pallatio.

However...

“Refraction.”

The instant the phrase left his lips, the magic responded to his words.

“Repulsion.”

The little sphere unraveled into wildly scattered lines.

“Blue Light.”

With a crackling sound, it began to radiate blue light. What had been a tiny sphere transformed into hundreds, then thousands of lines, forming a spherical, crackling source of nonlinear light.

Its dying glow became a light source shining a chillingly cold blue.

At the same time, Alon formed a hand seal. His thumb covered his middle finger, as though preparing to flick someone on the forehead.

But by turning his hand the other way, he formed a pose resembling the Buddha’s wheel-turning mudra. Looking at the golem that had already reached him, Alon spoke.

“Linear Diffraction.”

He uttered the final phrase like a declaration, and the blue light banished the darkness for an instant.

SNAP!

With a flick of his finger, a flash of light shot forth.

FWISH!

There was no sound.

All that could be heard was the low rush of displaced air after the flash shot forth. All that could be seen, after the brilliant light illuminated the gorge, were the golems, looking as though time had stopped.

Then...

CRACK—CRRRAACK!

Dozens upon dozens of golems collapsed helplessly, without the slightest resistance, becoming heaps of stone.

Evan, who had been rushing forward only moments earlier to pull the charging golems away from Alon, froze mid-stride, his mouth hanging open.

“Holy shit...”

The words escaped him in a murmur.