The Schemer had no mobility. It could not roam around on its own, and at best could move little by little by riding the seawater. Normally, it simply lived half-buried in the seafloor, its mouth gaping open as it waited for prey to wander in.
But now, the Schemer had acquired the ability to walk independently.
[Kieeeeeek!!]
[Ah.]
The Schemer, perched atop the charging Messenger’s tentacle, opened its maw wide. Beyond the throat that swelled in an instant to the size of a person, writhing teeth and eyeballs bloomed. Irene frowned at the sight, which was not merely grotesque but bizarre.
“……An aberration? No, no. There’s no way an aberration could act as if it had planned things out in advance like that.”
“It’s fine to have impressions, but I don’t think now is the time for that?!”
Darko grabbed the nape of the muttering Irene’s neck and flung her far away. With a crunch, the desk she collided with tilted, and Darko’s head was cleanly severed and flew through the air.
Blood poured out like a fountain. The floor that had finally been wiped clean began to pool with blood once again.
Irene, half her face covered in blood, rose while savoring the pain climbing up her back. Mariang, barely dodging the tentacles pouring toward her, shouted.
“No, this wasn’t part of the story!”
It was an ambiguous remark, unclear who it was directed at. But Irene did not examine the intent hidden in her words and instead stared fixedly at the two rampaging creatures.
A crude form. A primitive creature whose entire body consisted of tentacles grown like fur beside the maw set in its center. And a cube-shaped, mutable ambush predator that seemed to have been crafted from red muscle.
Neither of them was an ordinary aberration. No, from the start, they were not even aberrations.
Mysteries born from stories and mysteries that had existed from the beginning. All such entities ultimately belonged within the single category known as aberrations. And any mage of a high enough level could not help but instinctively sense the unique presence of Mystery.
A sticky yet somehow chilly presence. A realm of instinct permitted neither to psychics nor to clerics, but only to mages who bore aether. Thanks to that, Irene managed to see through the identities of those creatures, if only roughly.
‘There are traces left behind of magical procedures.’
Light seeped into her amber eyes, and soon they glittered like stars.
Aberration practitioners dealt directly with Mystery. They could subjugate Mystery through various methods and handle captured aberrations like summoners in a game.
But even they could not hide the fact that the beings they controlled were aberrations. No matter how much magic was the power of miracles, it was impossible to cover up the origin itself.
Therefore, the two creatures writhing over there could not, by common sense, be things handled by an aberration practitioner. After all, they were not aberrations.
Then what were they? What on earth were they, that something not even an aberration could openly wander about the Earth? No, could such creatures even exist in the first place?
“Haa.”
Questions biting one another’s tails forced her brain awake. Countless questions and countless hypotheses rose to the surface, then quietly drowned. Among them, one sharpened its edge and pricked her brain.
If they were not aberrations in the first place. If they were not lives born on Earth in the first place.
If, from the very beginning.
If someone had summoned with magic the offspring of something born in the cosmos? Was there not only one kind of grimoire that made that possible?
“Haaah……!”
Having sorted out the complexity in her head, Irene shuddered with pleasure and let out an excited breath. She lightly licked her lips, then took out the drawing she had kept in her pocket.
It was a drawing of five humans clustered in one place to form a shield. Since she had already filled the required number of sacrifices, the magic activated at once.
Crrrrunch!
Ordinary people with no connection to her bloomed in midair, and the moment they appeared, they tangled together to form a massive shield.
Crack!
The Schemer’s harpoon, which had been flying in rapidly, lodged into the shield and was neutralized. Irene abandoned the shield made of flesh without hesitation, then looked at Mariang and the remaining Darkos and shouted loudly.
“The Grimoire of an Outer God! It’s the Grimoire of an Outer God! It came to me on its own two feet!”
“The Grimoire of an Outer God? What’s that?”
Darko asked back.
Crack!
A tentacle that burst through the floor pierced his body, and he went limp. Regardless, Irene answered the corpse in a lively voice.
“The thing Walter was looking for! And the grimoire that will now become mine!”
At the same time as her voice, five of the Messenger’s tentacles shot out in unison. Mariang intercepted them one by one as precisely as possible, then let her blood-dripping fist hang limply. Her flesh was torn, exposing the bone clearly.
“Hoo…….”
It healed in no time. She shook the blood from her fist and took one step back.
It was then. The creatures that had been rushing forward suddenly stopped in place, and a human presence was felt behind them. Mariang reflexively turned her head.
Their eyes met.
A mage wearing a gas mask and holding a black grimoire in his hand. Breathing roughly, haah, haah, he tilted his head and looked around the guest room.
“…….”
Ian took Mariang into his field of view. Mariang also stared at him with desperate eyes.
But he could not openly reveal that they were cooperating, so Ian merely gave her a perfunctory nod and shifted his gaze. He looked back at Irene’s face.
Blond hair and golden eyes.
Her build was quite small. Yet because her whole body was dyed with blood, she did not give off the impression of being frail at all. Instead, an instinctive repulsion crawled over his skin like a snake.
‘So that’s Irene.’
He had heard the name here and there, but this was the first time he had seen her face in person.
Her appearance was not as special as he had expected. She simply looked like a girl from the countryside. Nothing more, nothing less.
“Mm.”
Ian let out a low hum and opened the glass cover of the lantern. With a creak, the cover opened.
“……Haa. So you’re the owner of the grimoire.”
A brief lull unfolded. Instead of answering, Ian stroked the Messenger and the Schemer as they approached him and fawned. The two monsters, who had been chewing Darko alive until just moments ago, let out low cries.
Irene continued as she watched.
“What’s your name? I’d like to know.”
“I don’t have a name to tell a lunatic. And I have no intention of talking to you.”
Ian spat the words out. He lit the lighter and brought it to the wick inside the lantern.
Fwoosh.
Flame rose, and air flowed in through the hole in the lantern’s handle. The oil diminished, spreading a thick odor.
“Let’s just focus on what we each have to do.”
Ian said that and clicked the lantern cover shut.
At that moment, one of the Darkos caught the faint scent, widened his eyes, and pulled a dagger from his coat.
“Do not breathe in that smell! Hurry and put on your gas masks!”
Thud!
Without hesitation, he drove the dagger through his own neck. The penetrating blade tore through his skin and jutted out, dripping blood. But he did not die instantly. Holding his breath, he charged at Ian. The hand wearing brass knuckles shot precisely toward the center of Ian’s brow.
Just before it connected.
Clang!
A massive camera suddenly sprang out from the side and was struck by the knuckles in Ian’s stead.
With a crunching sound, part of the camera was ripped away. Holmes laughed and pressed the shutter.
[Found you, James Moriarty! And your gang!]
Light flashed and faded in an instant.
At that spot, the detective’s two-meter-tall body was summoned. As if a dullahan were bringing its own head to its neck, Holmes’s body lifted the camera and fitted it into the joint of his neck.
[We subdue them all before Inspector Lestrade arrives. Let’s go, Watson!]
Having regained his original body, he drew his cane as if unsheathing a blade. Then a sword cane revealed itself.
Slash!
The silver blade left a horizontal trajectory. Darko, who had been standing in its path, was cut vertically and tilted to either side.
[We deal with resisting remnants as self-defense, Watson! You’re fine with that too, aren’t you?]
Holmes charged at the remaining Darkos with his sword in hand. Behind him, Alisa sprang out. Wearing a mask and holding a single karambit, she spoke bluntly.
“I’ll ask later why Mariang, whom you clearly said you subdued, is here. For now, I’ll take Mariang, so I’ll leave Irene to you.”
She did not wait for an answer. She placed her hand over the tattoo engraved above her womb and chanted.
“O soul of the fallen knight. I command thee, offer unto me thy memories from life.”
Kiiing……!
The magic circle was dyed white. Alisa’s gray eyes flickered for an instant, then turned red.
With hand movements far more familiar than before, she spun the karambit and charged toward Mariang. Mariang grimaced and swung her leg.
“Get lost already……!”
Whoooosh!
The leg extended at high speed, flying precisely toward the center of Alisa’s brow.
At that moment, Alisa lowered her body to avoid the kick, threw herself to the side, and swiftly swung the karambit.
Riiip!
The blade tip embedded in Mariang’s thigh formed a sword path as Alisa moved.
Her skin tore open in a long line like stockings, and Alisa slightly turned downward the blade lodged in Mariang’s side, pulling it out as if forcibly tearing free a hook. Blood flowed down along with the ripped skin.
“Ugh!”
Severed organs dangled. Mariang grimaced and brought her parasol down, while Alisa rolled across the floor with an expressionless face.
“…….”
While Holmes and Alisa fought the opponents they had each chosen, Ian stared at Irene through the lenses of his gas mask and took out his gun. Irene, who had somehow put on a civilian gas mask, looked straight back at Ian and smiled with her eyes.
“It’s time to return the book, guest. If you hand it over quietly now, I’ll withdraw—”
Bang!
Before she could continue, Ian pulled the trigger without hesitation. The lead bullet flew and embedded itself in Irene’s abdomen, and she coughed up blood as she burst into giggles.
“So negotiations have broken down.”
Crack!
Having transferred her injury to a drawing she had prepared in advance, she stood with her body restored. Then she took out a pen and notebook and lowered her head.
There was no more conversation. Ian cocked the revolver’s hammer and quietly murmured.
“Go eat.”
[Kieeeeeek!]
The Messenger let out a shriek and rushed toward Irene.
Weeeeeeeeeeng!
A siren blared in the hotel.