The Schemer, clinging to the Deliverer, gaped its maw wide open toward Irene.
Its cubic body split apart, fully revealing a grotesque oral structure.
Irene flushed upon seeing that sight.
“Beautiful…….”
Swish!
As she flicked her hand, the shield she had previously summoned returned to block her front. Befitting a shield made from sacrificing five humans, the Schemer’s teeth and harpoons failed to pierce through, merely scratching the outer surface. Someone’s head and organs, attached like decorations to the shield, dangled and were torn away.
‘Its defense is better than I thought.’
Click.
Ian rotated the revolver’s cylinder and shifted his footing.
‘Deliverers or Schemers alone will have a hard time breaking through.’
To begin with, among the creatures Ian could summon, Deliverers and Schemers were on the considerably weaker side. The enemies the two had faced so far hadn’t been particularly strong either.
The first time he had used a Deliverer was against a ghoul, and after that, they had only fought humans or parasitic aberrations that had stolen human bodies. They had never faced a mage before.
The Schemer’s experience was limited to massacring swarms of bugs like espers. To face a proper mage like Irene, he would need creatures of a higher grade, or a Cycler that had repeatedly died.
But if he blindly summoned them in reality, the food cost would become difficult to manage. Cyclers alone demanded more food the more they died; how could he possibly procure all of that?
He might be able to deal with Irene easily, but the aftermath would be hard to manage in reality.
That was why he had chosen the Deliverer and the Schemer.
Their combat prowess wasn’t exceptional, but they were adequate enough, and they didn’t require much food. The Deliverer only needed three humans’ worth, and the Schemer was satisfied with roughly twelve. Since there was a clone ability user on Irene’s side, there was no need to worry about being unable to feed them.
Of course, it would be difficult to land a direct blow on Irene, but being able to restrict her movements was enough.
He had never intended to leave the fighting entirely to the two and merely watch from the rear.
“……Hah.”
Expelling his stifled breath from behind the gas mask, Ian raised his gun barrel.
His exhalation heated the inside of the mask, and hazy moisture formed on the lenses. Straining to adapt to the distorted vision, Ian pulled the trigger.
Bang!
A lead bullet flew with the short report of gunfire. Irene reflexively lowered her body, dove aside, and raised her shield. Confirming the miss, Ian briefly lifted the bottom of his gas mask to clear the moisture and cocked the revolver’s hammer.
Blam!
This time, it struck true. A bullet of monstrous power partially destroyed the edge of Irene’s shield. The shield, composed of someone’s legs, twisted and spurted blood, and she was sent spinning by the sheer impact.
Using that rotational momentum, Irene swung her shield like a blunt weapon. But before it could touch Ian, one of the Schemer’s harpoons shot up at high speed and pierced through the back of her hand.
“Ugh!”
Sharp pain traveled up her nerves, burning her brain. Without realizing it, she frowned and dropped the shield she was holding.
Clang!
The massive shield fell to the floor. Ian stomped on it, pressed his muzzle against the stumbling Irene’s chest, and pulled the trigger. The round blew away half of Irene’s chest, and her body was slammed against the wall.
“Kuhak! Kulk!”
With her lungs and heart gone, she vomited blood with difficulty.
It lasted only a moment. Irene quickly returned to normal breathing and wiped the blood from her lips. Ian stared at the sight and let out a hollow laugh.
“You barely have any organs.”
Click.
He stowed the spent revolver into its holster and drew a grimoire in one hand and a hatchet in the other, staring at Irene’s gaping chest.
Only one lung was shattered. The other didn’t exist at all, and there was likewise no trace of kidneys, liver, or large intestine. If they had been blown away by the gunshot, some fragments should have remained, but there was nothing of the sort.
This meant one of two things.
Either Irene was a homunculus, or she had used the Mysteries to move some of her organs elsewhere.
Personally, Ian considered the latter more likely. However, since he couldn’t completely rule out the former, he tapped his shoulder with the hatchet and spoke.
“A homunculus? Or are you storing your organs separately using the Mysteries?”
“Well. Which do you think?”
Squelch.
Irene rose, caressing her chest where new flesh was regenerating. Her skin, pale to the point of pallor, was fully exposed.
“Let me tell you one thing: I’m only ten years old this year.”
She was implying that she was a homunculus. Ian forced a bitter smile and turned the pages of his grimoire.
“Weren’t you born to ordinary shepherd parents?”
“That’s right. And I died when I was young, then my parents handed my corpse to an alchemist so I could be born anew.”
Irene pulled out a torn and punctured photo from her bosom and threw it.
“I’m sure that alchemist was overjoyed too. Creating a homunculus is practically the ultimate wish of alchemists. The higher the failure rate, the greater the euphoria upon success, or so they say.”
“…….”
“But at the end of the day, it’s a form of magic. The lifespan is a mere fifteen years, and past ten, the body rapidly deteriorates, making movement effectively impossible from the eleventh year onward.”
Shhk.
She plunged a knife into the neck of Darco, whose body had been shattered in the battle with Holmes, and gazed at the grimoire held in Ian’s hand.
“I don’t want to end up like that. I’d rather become a complete being with the help of an Outer God than a living meat puppet without a soul, even if it’s no longer in human form.”
“A lofty dream. If you’re a puppet, act like one and do as your master bids. Who gave you permission to have a sense of self?”
Ian snickered and twitched his hatchet. Drops of black liquid fell from the grimoire.
“Besides, my Outer God says it doesn’t like you very much. It wants to tear you apart right this instant.”
“I don’t care. That god will eventually realize I’m a better host than you.”
“Do you know what happened to those who didn’t know their place and flaunted their pride before me?”
“Well. I don’t think I’m quite like them, at least?”
Irene began to draw in her notebook. She finished it in an instant, tore the page out, and threw it to the floor.
Grrrrr……!
A blackish-red head, crowned and bleeding profusely, rolled across the floor. She picked it up and lodged a blade into the back of its skull.
At that moment, the head, which had been motionless, snapped its eyes wide open and let out a horrific shriek.
[AAAAAAACK!!!!!]
A high-frequency sound wave that threatened to burst eardrums reverberated throughout the hotel. Windows vibrated and shattered, and Ian frowned, pulling a lighter from his pocket.
Fwosh!
The moment he ignited it, all sound vanished. Irene’s face hardened stiffly. Ian tossed the lighter somewhere roughly and gestured toward the Deliverer.
[……!]
The Deliverer let out a soundless scream and charged at Irene, wielding its four tentacles in erratic patterns.
The tentacles, shooting out faster than she could cast magic, precisely severed all of Irene’s limbs.
Her severed arms and legs flew into the air, but she instantly transferred the damage to a drawing, grabbed one of the Deliverer’s tentacles, and yanked it.
Then she thrust her hand into its maw, fiercely grabbing its stomach. Taken aback by the unexpected attack, the Deliverer panicked, and Irene slammed its body straight into the floor.
The shock was stronger than anticipated, causing the Deliverer to spit out her hand—which it had been gnawing on—along with saliva.
Crunch!
Using her limply dangling hand, Irene picked up the dagger that had fallen to the floor and simultaneously pierced the Deliverer’s organs. The Deliverer, whose organs were all arranged in a straight line beyond its maw, could not evade the attack and perished on the spot.
“…….”
It was the first time Ian had witnessed the death of an Outer Sea creature.
Of course, he knew that dying like that merely meant it would be unsummoned, but even so, he felt far from good.
He threw his hatchet at Irene, who was trying to tear into the Deliverer’s corpse, and picked up the fallen Schemer, his lips moving.
“The banquet table is set; become blades and carve the prey.”
He uttered it in a growl, but his voice was devoured by the lighter’s flame. Nevertheless, the spell activated without fail.
Grrrr……!
Seawater dripping from the grimoire pooled in one spot, forming a long blade about a meter in length. It shot forward at high speed and diagonally pierced through Irene’s chest. Pinned between the wall and the blade, she coughed up blood and furrowed her brows.
In that brief moment when her movement was restricted, Ian swapped grimoires and rushed toward Irene. A pristine white grimoire settled into his grip.
“T…… two……!”
Irene stretched out both hands with a smile filled with rapture. Ian picked up the fallen hatchet and brought it down on her forehead, then placed his empty hand on her torso.
He tried to press on. Had it not been for the sudden blaring of the reverse targeting alarm, he would have succeeded.
[Warning! Warning! Attack approaching from the left!]
A cacophonous warning blared inside Ian’s head. He reflexively grabbed his coat and unfurled it to defend his left. At that moment, a bloodstained knuckleduster swung violently into his coat.
Thud!
The magic woven into the coat absorbed the considerable impact entirely. Ian pulled out the hatchet that had been stuck in Irene’s forehead and swung it in the direction the fist had come from. The hatchet blade collided with the knuckle, sending sparks flying.
At the same time, the blazing flame of the lighter died down. Sound returned to the world, and Holmes, stepping on the head that had been rolling on the floor, severed the head of a Darco that was grappling with Ian using a sword cane.
[Haha! The criminal is being copied! At this rate, there won’t be enough room in prison with how they keep splitting even after you kill them!]
“……Holmes.”
[Worry not. I shall deal with this man properly!]
Holmes said so and ran off to deal with the remaining Darcos without waiting for a reply.
In that instant, Irene—who had fled after having her lower body severed—was already restored and moving her lips.
“The world’s beauty is so cruel; therefore, all shall sing before my paintings.”
The moment she uttered it, Irene pulled out five pictures in succession from her bosom. They were drawings of bizarre creatures, and they resonated with the magic circles inscribed on the back, fusing in real time.
Craaack!
The drawings twisted together. Already grotesque, they grew even more hideous, and the blood comprising the drawings began to drip like running paint.
Watching this, Ian threw the Schemer at the drawings. The cube, reading his intent, split open and pushed the drawings into its maw. At the same time, the Schemer burst like a balloon, scattering blood and organs in all directions.
“Huh.”
Ian let out a hollow laugh—he hadn’t expected the Schemer to die as well—and a creature from the drawings tore through the Schemer’s flesh and crawled across the floor, thrashing with two pairs of arms.
It wasn’t in the best condition either. It might have originally had two heads, but now only raggedly torn stumps remained on one neck. It had no legs, and from its long ripped abdomen, thread-like organs and someone’s heads crawled out, dragging on the floor.
[S-save me. I don’t want to die.]
[Mommy! Mommy! I’m here!]
[By becoming one, we were made perfect. By dividing into two, we came to understand each other.]
[Shiiiiit!!! Send me home!!]
All manner of voices leaked from the lips on the creature’s head. The creature, which had a maw where eyes should be, stared at Ian and the rest of the party with eyeballs plastered all over its body.
“……Can you make living art too? How absurd.”
It was the moment Ian uttered those words and shook off the blood and ichor from his hatchet.
Kwa-bang!!
The door, closed from the aftermath of battle, burst open violently, and agents of the Management Bureau poured in.
At the same time, he stiffened upon catching the scent of Lantern. His sharply honed gaze grew hazy and unfocused, his limbs went slack, and drool dripped steadily from his mouth.
“Tch.”
Ian clicked his tongue at the sight. He had gone to the trouble of closing the door to minimize the Lantern’s fragrance seeping into the hotel, but an unexpected intrusion had rendered it all for naught. He couldn’t exactly blame the Management Bureau for doing their job, yet he couldn’t stop the irritation from welling up either.
‘I figured they’d come roughly around when the hotel siren went off…… but they came faster than expected. Only competent when it’s useless.’
Ian let out a deep sigh and lowered his axe. Seeing that, Darco quickly approached Irene and whispered.
“Now. We have to flee now!”
“What? No way. I’m taking the grimoire with me.”
“Don’t be stubborn! There will be other chances! You’re not a weak enough mage to face him in such a narrow place without any preparation!”
“What do you know about magic?”
“At least I know our lives are in danger right now. Irene, you don’t even have many of those paintings you kept as spare lives left. At most two, isn’t that right?”
“…….”
Irene fell silent. She glared at Ian with a distorted face, then kicked Darco in the shin and turned around.
“I’ll trust you weren’t just tossing out empty promises. Escape route?”
“One of my clones is already waiting below. We just need to jump down from here.”
“And what if my body breaks?”
“I’m here. You won’t die.”
Darco embraced Irene and walked toward the broken window. Irene frowned at the gust of blood reeking in the air, then sighed as she watched Ian, who showed no reaction.
“…….”
“…….”
No words were exchanged. Ian stared at her through the lenses of his gas mask, and she stared at the grimoire clutched in Ian’s hand with a gaze dripping with lingering attachment.
Then, in a flash, she leaped out of the hotel together with the creature she had created, and Darco. Another Darco, still remaining, carried Mariang like cargo and threw himself after Irene.
The room fell silent in an instant. Holmes, who had cut off the head of the last remaining Darco, let out a groan and plopped down onto the sofa.
[You let them get away.]
“I can’t chase them at the cost of unnecessary casualties. And I can’t fight while protecting those Management Bureau agents lying over there.”
Ian took off his gas mask, roughly threw it aside, and perched on the desk. Then he pulled out a cigarette.
[And now that they’ve fled into the city center, forcibly chasing them would only result in more civilian casualties. I respect your judgment. It’s simply a bit of a shame.]
Holmes tossed the lighter to Ian.
With a crisp *ting*, he struck the flint of the opened lighter, and the wick caught fire. He brought it to the cigarette and exhaled acrid smoke.
Right then, Alisa, covered in blood, approached and pulled out a cigar, cutting the end.
“Light me one too.”
He lit it for her.
She too exhaled smoke into the air with a huff, like Ian. After gazing at the clear sky for a moment, she sheathed her karambit and spoke tersely.
“Mariang. You planted her in Laplace. She was the one who told you Irene was here too.”
“…….”
“No wonder the fight was so passive. Even while fighting, he kept checking if you were okay, and he didn’t use any mystic abilities at all, only engaging in close combat.”
“Her?”
“Yeah. So from the middle of it, I held back too. I more or less caught on.”
“So you’re saying it was a WWE match.”
Ian snickered and flicked the ash from his cigarette. Alisa turned to him with an expressionless face.
“I won’t bother asking exactly what your relationship with Mariang is, or why she follows your orders so readily. I’m not curious anyway.”
“…….”
“What’s important is what we do now. Since the ambush failed, the next opportunity won’t be easy to find.”
She placed the cigar between her fingers.
“Mariang won’t be able to give us the location this time either. If she gets suspected even a little, it’ll be a headache.”
“No need to worry about that. I told you. I have one of Irene’s paintings.”
“……Ah.”
Alisa’s eyes widened, and Ian took one final drag on his half-smoked cigarette, then roughly tossed the butt aside.
“Prepare immediately. We start tracking in one hour.”
He continued, looking down at the blade of his axe.
“Now that I’ve already bitten, I have no intention of giving them time to rest. I’ll cut off Irene’s head today.”