[289] 5. Every Variable (3)
The true origin stories of actual Objects are never clearly revealed.
Someone simply passes along a name for a thing, and people let their imagination run wild from there.
But was unique in that an actual record remained.
The merchant who took over the mansion soon realized what powers the 287 beads possessed.
If you carried one, the moment you encountered murderous intent you would hear the girl's warning. It was an alarm so keen it would pick up even the restrained killing intent of a top expert.
They say that merchant sold them at auction and became the richest man on the continent. The 287 Objects fell into the hands of the powerful of various nations, and now it is estimated only about eighty-two remain.
"That's how it was."
That was what Xenoger had heard back when he trained as an assassin.
Which made the present situation all the stranger.
It would be impossible for Shirone to possess such an item unless he were among a country's highest nobility or royalty.
"Where did you get that…? Doesn't seem like a life worth that much."
Shirone scrambled to his feet and took a fighting stance.
"What are you? What were you trying to do to me?"
Xenoger waved his hand through the air without answering.
The threads tangled, and a visibly white skein wrapped itself around his wrist. He attached one end to the ceiling and pulled; his body shot upward at high speed.
Shirone cast teleport in an instant. But Xenoger's figure had already vanished from view.
He was an astonishingly high-level fighter. At least by Shirone's standards.
Xenoger moved along the wall in pursuit.
The target could be taken out more than ninety percent of the time even by hitman methods. Above all, no longer mattered—Shirone's death was a foregone conclusion.
Shirone could not run.
He could hardly breathe from Xenoger's palpable killing intent, and he wondered how it had been concealed until now.
And the source of that intent wasn't singular. It was disrupting the Spirit Zone's sensory processing at a tremendous rate.
'I'll die like this!'
In utter desperation Shirone abandoned flight. He lowered his fist and poured his strength into casting Berserk.
Kwak kwak kwak kwak kwang!
The underground walls trembled and dust sifted down.
"Kekeke! Magic, magic."
Few professions looked down on mages, but the Spathur assassin clan had a manual for every situation.
Xenoger pursed his lips and a thick strand of webbed wire snaked out, tightly coiled. The wire punched through Shirone's Berserk and impaled his shoulder.
"Guh!"
Shirone ripped the thread free and rolled on the floor. It wasn't fatal, but that strike made the gap in skill unmistakable.
Area-wide defensive magic like Berserk excels at broad protection, but is inevitably vulnerable to localized penetration.
A practitioner who could see that weakness and counter it the instant they saw the magic—his speed of thought probably far exceeded Shirone's.
Xenoger, who had stayed out of view, dropped down with a dull thunk. He landed on both hands like a perfect spider.
His tongue flicked out long and licked across his face.
"Kikiki, nice reaction. I aimed for your heart, but you dodged. Kids like you are my type. I'd like to bind you in my webs and dote on you, but…"
Shirone shivered at the chill crawling over him.
"Sorry, I'm a busy man."
Xenoger vanished from sight even faster than before, and Shirone fell into a state of complete uncertainty.
Mages can unleash power beyond common sense, but in direct combat they often struggle against those who have pushed their physical abilities to the limit.
Xenoger was a master Shirone had never seen; assuming he could respond from the start had been a misjudgment.
Shirone turned completely and deployed instantaneous movement.
If he couldn't flee and couldn't fight, the only choice left was to hide and buy time.
A flash of light ricocheted off the walls as Shirone slipped into the food storage. The place was vast—enough to feed hundreds of Shen households—and the food was sectioned by type.
Shirone pressed his back against a stacked pallet like a small fortress and hid. He hadn't even been casting long and his breathing was already strained.
'Where would someone target me from? The ceiling? Behind the pallets? Or the opposite section?'
Shirone scanned for Xenoger's traces.
But Xenoger was wedged in a corner of the warehouse ceiling, in a place Shirone hadn't expected at all.
'Kikiki, foolish. To think common sense would work on a mimicry user.'
Xenoger's eight eyes locked onto Shirone with perfect accuracy.
@
Borrowing the power of Geumgang Mujang, Jion's combat ability matched that of a certified master swordsman. Amy had no time even to cast a teleport; he was pressing a sequence of razor-sharp strikes.
Seeing Amy's pale face loosened Jion a bit. Armand—rated an S-class Object even among merchants—was proving its worth.
Royalty does not suit effort. Nor, for that matter, talent. The only thing that makes royalty noble is bloodline; with that pedigree you can buy away effort and talent.
"You're holding out decently."
He hadn't expected the fight to last this long. He'd thought her a weak mage, but her movements were as swift as a swordsman's.
"Hmph, were you rigorously prepared since childhood? If so, it's pitiful. To think I'd be bested by someone who never learned swordsmanship, much less magic."
"Shut up! I'll never lose to someone who relies only on weapons!"
Amy gritted her teeth and charged Jion.
She was so furious she nearly cried. It had taken ten years of daily effort. A man who'd never known hardship can't beat you with just a magic sword.
Amy used her Schema to the fullest, unleashing disruption tactics. But Armand adapted to Jion's physiology in response.
—target individual acceleration changes detected. Retinal afterimage removal. Visual perception maximized.
Afterimages happen because the human brain retains an image for a tenth of a second.
But once Armand erased the retinal afterimages, Amy's movements came through as sharp, staccato images.
Jion paused for a moment and then suddenly launched himself. The blade mounted on his gauntlet sliced through the air and grazed the collar of Amy's coat.
Jion was not a Schema user. Yet Geumgang Mujang's bodily coordination reproduced the effects of Schema.
"No. I absolutely will not accept this!"
Amy bit her lip.
To evade Jion's gaze she needed speed that transcended his perception, but her Schema wasn't at that level.
'Then…'
Amy entered the Spirit Zone.
In the cramped space, against a swift melee fighter armed for close range, she didn't know how effective magic would be, but if a direct tactic wouldn't work her survival chances were slim.
"Eat this!"
Amy unleashed fireballs in every direction. Instead of targeting, she used them to intimidate and restrict movement.
"Ugh! What a nuisance."
Jion abandoned his charge and pulled back.
There were many Objects in the gallery. If he had Armand alone the others wouldn't matter, but most of them belonged to Woorin—and that was the problem.
'I have to keep the Objects intact for now.'
Reading Jion's intent, Armand thrust its tendrils in all directions.
The tendrils latched onto the walls and Jion's body was lifted.
Under tension his body flew like a bug. He swung his sword at tremendous speed and the fireball split into two.
Amy snorted.
"Hmph, do you think that will stop me?"
Heat doesn't disappear just because a form changes.
As expected the flames engulfed Jion and combustion reactions occurred in Armand's organic components.
But the charred crust fell away and was replaced with fresh organic matter.
Self-regeneration is the strength of life. The reason was S-class was because it combined the advantages of metal and organism.
Having blocked the fireballs, Jion hovered and looked down at Amy.
"Surprisingly fierce. But you won't be able to keep this up."
Amy stepped back and surrounded herself with a fire mist. It wouldn't turn the tide, but heat was unmatched for keeping a biological attacker at bay.
"Hmph, quite the tantrum."
Amy knew bitterly that improvisation was all she could do—and that was humiliating.
Plus, her opponent's moves were unpredictable and the cramped space made her specialty, sniper mode, impossible.
She didn't give up because she spotted the slightest opening. For some reason Jion seemed to dislike seeing items in the room destroyed.
'They don't look that valuable, though.'
It was a puzzling quirk, but the only opening. Amy tested it by firing a Fire Strike straight at a display case.
As expected Jion lunged. A tendril shot from over his shoulder and intercepted the Fire Strike's path.
There was a bang as the tendril's tip singed.
Amy clicked her tongue at Armand's tougher-than-expected durability.
But her magic was only just beginning. Spinning a targeted Spirit Zone, she rained Fire Strikes in all directions.
Jion parried repeatedly as he whipped tendrils, but even Armand's durability had limits.
"Hah! Then I'll take out the mage!"
One tendril pressed against Amy's neck and shoved her. Her head slammed into the wall and her mind wavered, but she activated Hongan to reset herself immediately.
"Guh, how could something like this—"
At that moment a sharp needle shot from the tendril and stabbed her throat. The Spirit Zone vanished and her magic dissipated.
Jion descended to the floor as Armand's voice spoke.
—extracting pituitary hormones from user. Combining. Synthesizing neural tranquilizer. Complete. Injection.
The human body is nothing less than a vast chemical plant. Armand extracted hormones from Jion's body and manufactured its own neural tranquilizer.
Amy couldn't hold on to her foggy thoughts.
"Damn…! What kind of sword does this exist?"
She tried to trigger Hongan, but the neural tranquilizer flooding her system destroyed the concentration needed to form a Spirit Zone. Chemicals poured in and intoxicated her.
"Heh heh, mages are finished once you mess with their minds. You and Shirone both. What makes you think that filthy magic dares act so high and mighty?"
Amy drew ragged breaths and looked up at the ceiling. Her eyes rolled back involuntarily and she found it hard to lower her gaze.
"Why not just pass out? I'll take care of your body in the meantime. Don't expect to wake up with all your limbs intact, though."
"Guh! Ugh…!"
Amy struggled to resist.
"Hahaha! Your thrashing is a sight. Do you finally understand? This is what happens when you touch royalty."
Amy squeezed out whatever strength she had and activated Hongan.
"Really?"
Jion snorted. He already knew she couldn't enter the Spirit Zone anyway.
But the next moment something surprising happened. A lump of flame flared on Amy's hand.
Before Jion could organize his thoughts Amy hurled the flame at the shelf.
"Damn! Block it!"
As Jion's attention snapped to the shelf, Armand reeled in its tendrils and hurled its master's body backward.
Just before the display exploded, Jion barely stepped in front. He braced for the heat and held his breath, but the fireball vanished before his eyes in an anticlimactic flash.
"What was that?"
It had been the shoddy flame of a Jack-o'-Lantern. Spirits have their own Spirit Zones, so they can cast independently of Amy's mental state.