Chapter 94 - Man-Made (5)

“Arrangement of Thunder—”

Lightning began crackling over Alon's body as he stepped forward.

“Decomposition.”

As the crackling lightning turned into particles, he picked up a paladin's sword that had been knocked away during the battle.

“Fusion.”

The blue particles were drawn into Alon's body.

“All Things Flow.”

His body wavered like an afterimage.

“Form of the Thunder God.”

As he formed a hand seal, he became lightning.

“Th-the branches are coming in!”

The moment the top of the barrier was opened at Alon's request, branches began forcing their way inside. Just as despair filled everyone's eyes at the sight, Alon tore through the woody stems creeping through the opening and soared into the sky.

BOOOOM!

Amid the debris of the branches torn apart with that thunderous noise, everyone caught sight of Marquis Pallatio, silhouetted against the blue moon.

Suspended in midair, Alon watched the woody stems begin shooting toward him.

'Slow, just as I thought.'

The stems were certainly approaching, but not quickly. Reassured, Alon felt the sword gripped in his left hand.

'It was close, but I'm ready now.'

There were two reasons he had been unable to act sooner. The first was the time it took to find Makia's weakness.

Until now, Alon had never really tried to find the Outer Gods' weaknesses. Those that had not become incarnate gods generally retained the bodily structure of the vessels they had occupied before their descent. Besides, most of the Outer Gods he had encountered so far were small enough to fit within the range of the magic he could manifest.

In other words, there had been no need to target their weaknesses.

This time, however, was different. The Makia before him was so enormous that it rendered his spells' range insignificant, and it possessed overwhelming regenerative abilities as well.

Simply put, casting spells indiscriminately would not annihilate it.

But now, at this very moment, Alon knew exactly where Makia's weakness lay.

It was thanks to the Eye-Eater's Necklace he had obtained in the Holy Kingdom. In the game, once a battle lasted ten turns or more, it gradually identified the opponent's weaknesses and increased the critical hit rate.

'The weak point is the solar plexus.'

He spotted a human shape glowing blue at the solar plexus within Makia's body of red branches and stone statues, then let out a deep sigh.

'I get one chance. I have no mana left.'

Mana. That was the second reason Alon had been unable to act quickly.

Having never imagined something like this would happen, he had already used most of his mana to save Yuman when Anderde first attacked. He had needed time to replenish it.

Even now, setting aside his hopelessly inadequate mana reservoir, manifesting magic for the less than one second it took to shoot into the sky had nearly drained him dry. He had only enough mana left to manifest a single spell.

He had downed two potions in succession, accepting the risk of mana poisoning, so his mana was replenishing itself a little at a time. Still, even the most generous assessment would put his remaining mana at next to nothing.

Ridiculously enough, this meant Alon could no longer use powerful magic.

Under normal circumstances, that is.

“Whew...”

Alon let out a heavy sigh and pointed the sword in his left hand at Machina.

“Arrangement of Thunder.”

He recited the phrase.

CRACKLE!

The moment he spoke, a crackling sound reached his ears. The scant mana remaining in his body was consumed, leaving him utterly depleted in an instant.

“Ghk...”

Pain struck at the same time. His body convulsed in protest, unable to yield any more mana, but Alon did not stop reciting the phrases.

After all, he was not planning to use Form of the Thunder God on himself.

“Decomposition.”

Since returning from Laxas, he had devoted himself to studying magic—more precisely, Manifestation of One's True Nature, with a particular focus on mana efficiency.

With reserves so pitiful that using Manifestation of One's True Nature just once left him depleted, researching efficiency was an absolute necessity.

“Fusion.”

Ultimately, despite countless experiments over half a year in an effort to improve its efficiency, Alon had failed.

Even so, he had gained something. Namely—

“All Things Flow.”

—a way to manifest Form of the Thunder God in an object rather than his own body.

CRACKLE!

The sword in his left hand absorbed the blue particles and began wavering like an afterimage.

It was a discovery he had made purely by chance—a byproduct of his research into reducing the mana cost of Manifestation of One's True Nature.

But at this very moment—

“Form of the Thunder God.”

—as Alon recited the phrase, that chance discovery manifested in the world as the strongest magic he could currently wield.

CRACKLE!

The wavering sword in Alon's left hand erupted with blue lightning, sending brilliant white currents in every direction. Holding it as though preparing to throw a javelin, he drew his arm back and lengthened the sword's arrangement.

What emerged was long and slender—

CRAAAAACKLE!

—a spear brimming with vivid electrical power.

The moment everyone, Yuman included, saw Alon holding that lightning spear in the light of the blue moon, he hurled it with all his might.

And then—

BOOOOOOM!

With a tremendous explosion, lightning pierced Machina's solar plexus.

####

The moment Alon's lightning spear struck Machina's solar plexus, everything stopped.

The roots spreading as though to devour the entire Holy Kingdom began crumbling into scattered handfuls of ash. The hand that had been descending toward Yuman and the priests just moments before likewise dispersed into white ash.

THUD! RUMBLE! CRAAAASH!

As its woody stems scattered into ash, Machina's solid form began to collapse. Yet everyone there, including Yuman, was looking not at the crumbling god, but at one man.

Beneath the blue moon, amid white ash drifting like flower petals, stood a man who had defeated an Outer God alone, yet remained utterly expressionless, as though that victory were only natural.

They could only stare blankly at Marquis Pallatio.

Just as a glimmer of awe entered everyone's eyes, Marquis Pallatio was thinking:

'... I'm in serious trouble!'

Behind that impassive exterior, he wore a genuinely grave expression.

Everything had gone according to plan: preparing his magic in midair, free of interference from the vines, in case its power proved insufficient; identifying the weakness with the Eye-Eater's Necklace; drinking two or more potions without checking his mana depletion.

Everything had gone according to plan.

There was just one problem: he had not considered what would happen immediately after defeating Machina.

No, strictly speaking, he had. After finishing his attack, he had intended to conjure an ice wall and shape it into a curve so he could descend from midair as safely as possible.

Of course, he knew that even with that method, he was more likely to be injured than not. But since this was the Holy Kingdom, he had assumed he would have little trouble recovering. Its clergy, from the rank of bishop upward, could heal practically anything so long as the patient was still alive.

But that only applied if he was still breathing. No matter how capable the priests were, they could not resurrect the dead.

'I didn't know it would take this much mana...!'

Lamenting how much more mana than expected he had used to adjust Form of the Thunder God's arrangement, he wondered what to do.

TAP!

Then he realized his helpless fall had slowed. Soon, he understood why.

“... Yutia?”

Something resembling a pure-white cloud made of divine power had caught him.

“Well done, Teacher.”

Yutia's brightly smiling face came into view, framed by the blue moon. Alon mustered his remaining strength and nodded.

####

In the end, Goddess Shironia's Festival of Birth was canceled altogether because of Machina's sudden appearance.

That was only natural. Though the attack had ultimately been stopped, the damage the Holy Kingdom had sustained was tremendous. Even the Holy Kingdom could not hold the festival under such circumstances.

As for Alon, who had disposed of Machina—

“... Are you all right, my lord? Though I should be calling you Marquis now, not Count.”

“I think I'm finally beginning to feel capable of moving.”

—he had been receiving treatment in a hospital in one wing of the temple for about two days.

Outwardly, there did not seem to be much wrong with him. His only wounds were a few injuries caused by his imperfect control of Form of the Thunder God; the Outer God had inflicted none.

The problem was his mana reservoir.

'A week of recuperation for mana depletion...'

Despite drinking two full bottles of potion, knowingly risking mana poisoning, Alon had still developed mana depletion and would have to spend a week in the hospital.

But honestly... Alon wanted to escape this hospital as quickly as possible. No, more than that: with all his business concluded, he wanted to leave the Holy Kingdom altogether.

And with good reason.

“My lord Marquis.”

“What is it?”

“You're quite popular.”

“...”

Throughout his stay, the priests had been looking at Alon in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable. Receiving reverent glances and greetings from the priests he glimpsed passing beyond the distant doorway, he replied,

“Honestly, I don't particularly enjoy it.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Of course, Alon understood that being respected by others was hardly a bad thing. In fact, immediately after his injuries, the priests' admiring gazes had felt rather pleasant. Everyone had some basic desire for recognition, after all.

But...

'Isn't this a bit much?'

Having every priest he encountered gaze at him with such bright, attentive eyes was, frankly, rather overwhelming.

And the real reason he wanted to leave the Holy Kingdom even sooner was—

“My lord Marquis, do you have a moment?”

“... Your Holiness.”

“Yes, my lord.”

—Yuman.

“Ah, my lord, that reminds me. I have some information to collect myself, so I'll step out for a little while.”

The moment Yuman arrived, Evan stood as though he had just remembered a task Alon had assigned him and left the hospital room. Alon scratched his head.

“... Well, please sit down.”

“Yes.”

Yuman took his seat with astonishing speed and spoke.

“How are you feeling, my lord Marquis?”

“Well, as I said yesterday, not too bad.”

“I'm relieved to hear it.”

Nodding in relief, Yuman looked up at Alon with eyes full of respect and awe.

Alon found it terribly uncomfortable.

Of course, being on good terms with Yuman was no bad thing. He was the man who would become Elivan's right-hand man in the future.

But having him visit every single day with that admiring, awestruck gaze was honestly embarrassing and overwhelming.

“... I appreciate your concern, but you don't need to visit so often.”

He cautiously hinted that Yuman ought to stop coming quite so frequently and get back to his own work.

“I cannot do that.”

“... Why not?”

“Because you shoulder the same burden as I do, my lord. No—a heavier burden than mine.”

“...?”

“Knowing that, I have no intention of turning my back on you.”

Instead, Yuman reaffirmed his resolve, even nodding with eyes brimming with respect.

“...??”

Looking more bewildered than ever, Alon could only stare at Yuman as he continued spouting incomprehensible nonsense.

“I will never turn my back on you.”