Needless to say, humans were not granted the ability to fly. There is a bone called the wing bone, but flying through the sky with it was impossible. Thus, one could only perform something resembling flight by harnessing the power of tools with one’s bare body; unfortunately, Ian had no such tools.
What did this mean?
It meant he had no way out and could only fall, following gravity with no escape.
*Wreeeeeeek!!*
“Urk!”
The gas mask clattered in the rushing wind. The strap, unable to overcome the acceleration, trembled before snapping loose with a *pop*. The instantly detached gas mask surged upward on the wind, collided with a pigeon, and was smashed to pieces.
*[Squeeeak!]*
The pigeon’s body split apart sideways. Hot blood rained down, and Ian scrunched up his face as he was drenched in the bloody downpour. The term “avian flu” briefly flashed through his mind, but that wasn’t important right now.
*If I keep falling like this, I’m dead for sure……!*
If it were the impact of falling from a fifth-story apartment, his coat could absorb it completely. It might sting a bit, but he could leave the scene without a scratch.
But if he crashed into concrete after plummeting from an altitude comparable to skydiving, his body would vanish without a trace. Perhaps a red flower would bloom on the ground.
Had he died fighting a Mystic or a mage, that would be one thing. Dying pointlessly in such a nonsensical fall was out of the question. Ian roughly wiped away the blood obscuring his vision, stared at the sky, and shouted.
“A useful spell! Give me anything, quickly!”
*[Hummm!]*
The grimoires responded to his will, flipping their pages rapidly. Ian’s pupils skimmed over the spells written on the paper.
First, the Records of the Deep Sea.
*[Deluge of the Outer Sea]*
*[Dyes everything within sight into the outer sea. Vision is temporarily lost.]*
It was an incredible spell, but the price was steep. And even if he crashed into water from this height, there was no guarantee of safety.
Next, Blue Shackles and the Writ of Contract.
*[Sylph Summoning]*
*[Summons Sylph, the spirit who commands the wind.]*
A spirit of the wind.
Certainly an entity capable of helping in this situation, but without forming a contract, he couldn’t control a Sylph freely. The summoning formula itself wasn’t simple enough to improvise mid-air. By the time he finished drawing, summoning, and contracting, he would surely be sharing a deep kiss with the asphalt.
So, pass.
Lastly, the Touch of Re-creation.
*[Flight]*
*[Temporarily grants the ability to fly. Immediately after use, suffers from lethargy and weakness. Duration: 2 minutes.]*
*[Materials: 1 object to receive the ability, blood of a winged creature, 2 feathers, 3 pieces of aberrant flesh.]*
“As expected, you’re the only one for me!”
Ian roughly shoved the other two grimoires aside and unceremoniously grabbed the Touch of Re-creation. At his rough touch, the grimoire trembled, but it wasn’t from dislike—rather, it was a trembling closer to a coquettish whimper, trying to hide how much it enjoyed it.
*[H-hummm.]*
If one were to interpret it, perhaps it was the unique trembling of a shy maiden (grimoire), as if to say, “W-why so sudden? How embarrassing.”
Perhaps not, but in the end, interpretation mattered more than the dream. Ian caressed the grimoire’s cover lavishly with affection, dabbed the blood on his body with his finger, and quickly drew a magic circle on the inside of his coat. Drawing in the wind was incredibly difficult, but he managed somehow. On top of it, he attached pieces of aberrant flesh he always carried. The flesh stuck firmly to the magic circle as if magnetized.
*[Squawk!]*
He grabbed a bird flying beside him and plucked its feathers. He pressed the gray-tinted feathers against the magic circle and chanted the spell, holding the grimoire with one hand and keeping the feathers in place with the other.
“As a human who was not permitted wings, I harbor a yearning for the divine greater than any other. O Goddess of Purity and Creation, grant unto me brilliant wings, that I may be granted audience before Thee.”
*Hummm.*
The magic circle engraved inside his coat began to glow. The flesh, blood, and feathers melted away and vanished. Ian’s fall stopped as though it had been a lie all along. Instead, he floated gently in the sky as if suspended underwater.
*A reliable effect.*
Flight achieved instantaneously the moment the spell was completed.
He nodded in satisfaction and flew quickly toward the ground. The sensation of flying freely through the sky was exhilarating, but with a duration of only two minutes, he had no time to linger. He fell straight down, then when only about three meters remained from the ground, he slowly reduced his speed.
*……Thud.*
He safely set foot on the ground. Ian let out a sigh of relief, leaned his back against a wall for a moment, and caught his breath.
As he did, a terrible lethargy and sense of enervation wrapped around his entire body. Suddenly, he didn’t want to do anything.
*……So this is the side effect.*
He had expected a fairly strong side effect, but as expected, a massive difference existed between predicting it and experiencing it firsthand. Ian knew he needed to put on some big performance to announce his location immediately, but he didn’t particularly feel like acting on it. He knew he should, yet his brain simply wouldn’t work.
“……Still gotta do it. Nngh……”
Somehow grabbing hold of his sinking consciousness, he pushed himself away from the wall.
It was then. Something fell nearby with a clatter.
“…….”
It was a head. A human head, at that.
As if dead only moments ago, the eyes were not closed, and moisture still remained. The tip of the protruding tongue was gone. Its nose, too, seemed to have been ground against the asphalt, having lost all trace of its original form. He had a far shorter nose than the wizard whose name must not be spoken.
It was a gruesome sight that would have sent any ordinary person screaming in horror. But Ian calmly drew out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. With a *hiss*, he lit it and took a long drag of the lemon-scented smoke.
Normally, he would have been turning over in his mind who the victim was, what they had been doing when they died, whether the culprit was nearby, and so on, but right now he didn’t particularly feel like it. He knew he should, yet his brain wouldn’t turn.
*‘Damn this side effect.’*
Ian let out a deep sigh and exhaled smoke.
Well, it was a fact that he had survived thanks to the magic. He didn’t blame the grimoire. If anything, he was grateful. After all, wasn’t the fact that he had survived, no matter what, the most important thing?
“Huu…….”
Ian cleared his thoughts and desperately racked his brain over what to do next. Proper thought was as difficult as if his brain matter had evaporated, but somehow he formulated his next plan.
*In the end, regrouping is the priority. Yuna or Ms. Eunha could have crash-landed somewhere too, so waiting for a signal from them isn’t a bad method—*
*Snap.*
His continuing thoughts were severed by a voice coming from the alley.
“…….”
Ian’s eyes went cold. With the cigarette still in his mouth, he peered around the corner into the alley.
“Yes, it has been dealt with. I killed them as painfully as possible, so there shouldn’t be any apostates appearing for a while.”
“Good. The cult leader will be pleased as well.”
“Then there is nothing more to desire. Lately you seem to have no energy…….”
“Didn’t the lizards massacre our believers in one go? Since he is someone who thinks of his believers as his own children, it is only natural…… Who’s there?”
In the midst of this, the woman felt Ian’s gaze and spat out in a sharp voice. Their heads turned toward Ian simultaneously. Had he been hiding, it might be different, but since he was openly staring, it was no surprise they noticed.
Since he was already caught, there was no need to hold his breath any longer. Ian exhaled a puff of smoke and walked to the alley entrance.
“A cult?”
At his question, the devotees convulsed.
“A cult?! We are the legitimate religion that serves the only Messiah and returned Jesus in this world! You damned heretic have no right to call us—”
“So it is a cult. Thanks for the answer.”
Ian cut off the noisy priest’s ramblings and flicked his spent cigarette to the ground. A sweet lemon candy scent spread through his mouth.
“It’s not strange for cults to run rampant in an apocalypse. At least they’ve done their homework.”
“……You, are you a slave to those lizards? Your clothes are quite clean.”
A woman clad in priestly vestments with a slightly different pattern from the other devotees asked. Ian let out a short laugh.
“If you mean Reptilians, you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m a mage.”
“……A mage?”
“Yes. I doubt you’ve heard of magic. Here, look. This is what’s called a grimoire. It contains everything from how to become a mage to all manner of spells. If any of you tried to read it, your brains would probably melt and you’d die instantly.”
“He’s a crazy bastard. Kill him.”
The woman shook her head and gestured to the devotees. They gripped their blades and rushed at Ian.
“And this is a spell called Fireball.”
Ian stared at them and reached inside his coat. The moment he pulled his hand back out, a revolver was clasped in his grip. The devotees froze upon seeing the gleaming silver barrel, and Ian flashed a grin.
“Now, the incantation.”
“T-this is Korea! There’s no way some psycho would have a big revolver like tha—”
“Bang.”
*BAAAAANG!!!*
The muzzle erupted in a massive roar. The hammer slammed down heavily on the bullet in the cylinder, and the thick lead slug flew faster than the speed of sound, shattering the head of the devotee at the front. As if that weren’t enough, it also shattered the skull of the man behind him.
“Huh?”
*Splat!*
Blood, flesh, brains, and fragments of bone fell to the ground. The lifeless corpses slumped limply like dolls, and Ian, his face already returned to an expressionless mask, cocked the revolver’s hammer.
“My current location, and the abandoned cafe nearby. Reveal everything.”
*Hummm.*
The grimoire in Ian’s grip vibrated briefly and flipped a page. The two devotees who had stared blankly at a portion of the page melted into sludge and flowed to the floor like liquid. There was no scream, no pain. Their bodies simply disappeared, as if it were a natural phenomenon.
“Ah, aah……!”
Witnessing this, the woman who had first ordered Ian killed collapsed to the floor, her mouth and pupils trembling violently. It was a pitiful sight, but he paid her no mind and pressed the still-hot muzzle against her forehead.
A *sizzle* of burning flesh filled the air.
“Then I’ll make this quick.”
“Y-you crazy psychopath……!”
To the woman’s instinctive words, Ian replied in a serious voice.
“Not a psychopath. A mage.”
The woman thought that perhaps those two words meant the same thing, and wet herself.
*Trickle.*