[305] Master of the Incarnation (3)
Shirone's burst of laughter flushed Jion's face red.
How dare a lowly commoner look down on him and laugh. He had never in his life felt such humiliation.
Shirone shook his head, a smile still clinging to his lips.
"Is that so? So much time has passed, I suppose. Do you really know nothing at all?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Teraje has no sons. She only ever bears daughters. You're nothing but Teraje's shell."
Jion went blank.
No sons? Only daughters? Then who was he? No—was there such a thing as a child without parents?
He scowled like a wounded beast.
"Shut up! How would you know that? You're insane. You got eaten by that monster and went mad! Who are you to speak about my mother?"
"Didn't Teraje tell you? You really are pathetic. Even if someone isn't a biological child, if they have talent she treats them properly. Looks like you weren't even worth that."
"When did you meet my mother?!"
Jion lost his senses and charged.
He had lived his whole life on the pride of being Teraje's son. And now—"a shell"?
No, this was insane nonsense. There was no way a commoner like that had met Teraje, the continent's emperor.
"I'm royalty! A bastard isn't someone who can treat me like that!"
As the gauntlet's blade lunged for Shirone's neck, a photon cannon slammed into Jion's abdomen.
He coughed up a flood of blood and flew ten meters, crashing into a sack of flour.
"Ghh! Ghh!"
The sack tore and flour poured over him like a waterfall.
His face, smeared with flour and blood, looked almost clownish.
Armand reported: combat incapable.
It was the only information Jion could comprehend.
Shirone floated the photon cannon above his palm and stepped forward.
"Humans like those things—kings, bloodlines, lineage, family. But the Teraje you worship said this to me."
Jion forced his head up. He watched, numbly, as the photon in Shirone's palm vibrated and swelled.
Shirone imitated Teraje's tone.
"Even if one is royal, it's only a bloodline passed down among humans. But—"
The photon cannon in Shirone's hand intensified.
Half out of his mind, Jion didn't even seem to register that it was a spell aimed at him; his glassy eyes were fixed on the light.
Shirone smiled, not unkindly.
"Talent is something heaven gives."
The photon cannon arced brutally and fell. Tears streamed from Jion's eyes as he watched the streak of light.
The impact rocked the food storage. The photon cannon, buried in Armand's fibers, pulverized Jion's abdomen until his organs tore, then dissipated after expending its force.
Flour spread in a ring, turning the space into a thick white fog.
Amy and Rena stamped their feet anxiously and peered into the haze. A shadow passed, and Shirone stepped out.
Amy couldn't bring herself to speak.
Even if that boy was Shirone, the temperament radiating from him felt like a time bomb pressed to a chest—volatile and terrifying.
"I'm going to the surface. You two run as fast and as far as you can. I'll handle this place."
Her fear was becoming real.
"Run fast and far." That was something you only said when a typhoon or an earthquake was coming.
"What are you even going to do? Whoever you are, you need to treat your injuries first. That body belongs to Shirone!"
"I am Shirone."
Shirone tilted his head toward the ceiling. His cold gaze slowly descended and fixed on Amy.
"Disappointed?"
Amy, choking, couldn't form a word.
Shirone steeled his mind with an enormous fury. The pop of blood vessels under his skin sounded faintly ominous.
He cast a laser; a beam as thick as a log shot up toward the ceiling. Heat energy accumulated rapidly and the ceiling began to shudder.
"Shirone! Wait—!"
"It's dangerous! We have to get out!"
Rena grabbed Amy's wrist and bolted for the exit.
As they left the food storage, a deafening boom erupted from Shirone's direction.
The two who had been thrown to the floor by the shockwave rolled and turned their heads. A massive rock had fallen and blocked the entrance.
* * *
The court musician's tune snapped into discord.
A tremor ran through the Grand Hall; women screamed and sank to the floor, men glanced around with pale, frightened faces.
"An earthquake? Kazra isn't in a seismic zone, is it?"
"Everyone down! Get under the tables!"
At the guards' shouts, the nobles scrambled and crawled under tables. Those who got there first wrestled later arrivals for space like opponents in a bullring.
The quake lasted about a minute and then stopped.
Blushing with embarrassment, the nobles crawled out from beneath the furniture.
Orcamp and Eliza, supported by royal guards, also looked ashen.
There had never been a recorded earthquake in Kazra's history. A sinister premonition flashed through Orcamp's mind.
The north side of the Grand Hall exploded with a bang. Bricks flew in every direction; smoke filled the air.
A few of the already-frayed nobles lost their composure. Those who collapsed to the floor flailed their limbs in pointless panic.
The first to grasp the situation were the castle guard and the nobles' personal bodyguards.
Realizing it wasn't a natural disaster, the royal guards formed a ring around the king and queen, while the personal bodyguards pressed close to their nobles.
"Is this an attack? What's happening?"
The guards searched for the head of security, Retni Walker. He, who had been present moments before, was nowhere to be found.
The chain of command was in disarray.
If enemy terrorists were involved, security protocols would have to be raised to the highest level. But there were too many awkward factors to override orders without authority.
For a while, nothing happened.
The nobles tried to keep up appearances, hiding their thoughts as they peered into the hole in the floor.
When a figure rose up, as if nothing had occurred, they all fell back in astonishment.
"Is that… Shirone?"
Orcamp muttered, bewildered.
The one who had wrecked the Grand Hall was none other than Shirone.
An hour ago he'd been dancing with Rena. Why would he do this now?
"Shirone, what on earth are you doing?"
The royal guards stepped between them and Orcamp.
"Sire, do not approach. Something's wrong."
Even to Orcamp, Shirone looked unmistakably different from an hour ago. A change in eye color alone made him seem like a different person, but the most alien thing was his expression.
Shirone did not make emotional faces. Calm and poker-faced in any situation, he now twisted his features in pain.
"These days, castles are well built. Humans have made progress."
A guard drew his sword and moved in.
"Lord Shirone, magic use inside the castle is strictly prohibited—!"
Without turning, Shirone fired the photon cannon.
The guard who lunged rolled and hit the floor, flipping as he went. The cannon's bursts chased him, scraping the marble.
"From now on, no one speaks without my permission. I will be the one to judge."
Shirone had proven he meant it with the earlier attack. Had the guard reacted only a moment slower, the cannon's barrage would have shattered him.
The air in the Grand Hall chilled. The nobles glanced at one another, bewildered.
For days they had pictured Shirone as a herbivore: meek, honest, easy prey.
But the Shirone before them radiated a ferocity that even seasoned nobles found frightening.
The guards searched for the missing Walker, awaiting a commander's orders. But no one who had stayed off the front lines could make such a grave decision lightly.
"Commander, what should we do? Give us orders!"
The commander cast anxious looks.
The main forces were stationed outside the inner castle; even if contacted, they would take time to arrive. It was abnormal for an incident to occur in the very heart of the castle.
"Commander! Orders! Shall we activate the mana control device?"
The commander's face twisted.
"Do you think that's as easy as you say, idiot?"
The mana control device disrupts a mage's focus. Its effect does not distinguish friend from foe; if activated, allied mages would be hamstrung as well.
'Damn it—what do we do? Activate the device? Disable all our mages for the sake of one? If it goes wrong, I'll be the one to deal with the aftermath. Where the hell did Walker disappear to?'
Because the king's safety was at stake, every possible variable had to be weighed.
Crushed by the burden, the commander's thoughts collapsed into avoidance and blame for Walker's absence.
"The control device is a last resort. Why don't you let us handle it?"
The commander turned as if he'd found a savior. Aimar Bosun, Kazra's head of the magic department, was walking toward them.
"Is that really all right?"
"Our department has been monitoring Shirone's movements closely. It seems he's finally revealed his true colors. But we can subdue him ourselves. With the head of security's approval, may we use magic?"
"Of course. If you handle it…" Orcamp trailed off.
Better to share responsibility than shoulder it alone. Besides, Bosun's influence in the castle was strong; if things went wrong he wouldn't feign ignorance.
Bosun put on a polite smile and strode toward Shirone. One by one, his subordinates slipped out from among the nobles and fell in behind him.
"I will stand by your side, sir."
At Bosun's side was his closest aide, Mito Ekkashi.
Short at 153 centimeters, with plump eyelids and eyes that slanted sharply, his face had a childlike look.
Having marched across countless battlefields from a young age, he had risen to the officially recognized sixth rank in Kazra's magic department at twenty-three.
There were extreme geniuses—like Olifer Shiina, who reached sixth rank at twenty—but such figures appear perhaps once a decade even at the kingdom level. Ekkashi could reasonably be called Kazra's future.
"This is an unexpected boon, sir."
"Hmm. Unexpected things are often the doorway to misfortune. But this time, perhaps you are right."
Casting magic in the throne hall was a grave crime. Moreover, Shirone had attacked a royal guard and spat words of treason—he had effectively branded himself a condemned man.
"So, why is the first prince so angry?"
Shirone glared icily at Bosun.
An hour ago Bosun had wanted to slap him. Now not even that thought crossed his mind; he only wanted to kill him.
"So it's you—the one who drives me mad."
A pure murderous intent, almost inhuman in intensity, quickened Bosun's heart.
But his resolve did not waver. He turned his chin slightly and said to the royal guards, "Escort His Majesty to safety. I'll handle this."
"Understood. Your Majesty, please withdraw."
Orcamp pulled his hand free from the royal guard's hold.
If Shirone had turned violent for unknown reasons, once they left, Bosun would try to kill Shirone. If that happened, Orcamp's position might well be handed to Teraje's faction.
"Who said anything about fleeing? Who do you think your king is?"
"Oh—sorry!"
Sensing his mistake, the royal guard dropped to his knees. In the urgency of the moment he followed Bosun's order.
If circumstances had been different, it might have been excused. But considering Bosun's ties to Teraje's faction, the guard's haste had indeed been reckless.