[363] The Magic Association (9)
Shirone kept swinging his blade blindly, pressing the attack. Gaold's mouth curved up as he calmly dodged each strike.
That's right. You got the first question right.
Shirone wasn't holding back his magic so much as he couldn't use it. Gaold had only one chance to strike—and that one chance had a near‑100 percent probability of killing him.
No offensive magic! I have to stop it, no matter what!
If Gaold was serious, he wouldn't wait until Ataraxia finished. He'd die before then. So all Shirone's attacks were feints. He concentrated every sense on Gaold's reactions.
When will it be? When, exactly?
Time‑splitting could complete two circuits at once, but after Ataraxia there was no slot left to mount a Photon Cannon or the like. He had to avoid the Air Gun. Failure meant death.
…That's probably exactly what he's thinking.
Shirone could hear the gears turning in his head.
It was the right read. But one misjudgment remained: thinking the Air Gun's power and speed would be the same as before.
You really think you could block that? Too bad if you do.
Gaold wasn't going to go easy. He'd already given two chances and even set the rule to allow only a single counterattack. With that balance, life or death rested wholly on Shirone. If he failed—what else was there? Death.
Just before Ataraxia completed, Gaold extended a finger.
Goodbye, Shirone.
At the same moment, Armand—standing ready to respond to only a single stimulus—drove his tendrils into the floor and pulled back.
Even that, however, was within Gaold's expectations.
This one's on a different level.
Without the earlier leisure, Gaold compressed the air and fired the Air Gun. It sounded like breaking steel as an air projectile screamed forward at incredible speed.
Shirone couldn't see it, couldn't feel it. That was the limit of a human who couldn't open a schema. But he still had one escape: imagination.
He'd set up a simple binary choice in advance. If Gaold attacked before Ataraxia finished, it meant he intended to kill him. So there was only one place to defend.
Dark Orb!
A black sphere formed in front of Shirone's face. It was a spell even Behemoth's forced rebound couldn't reach, but by pushing his Psychic Transcendence into overdrive he generated a small gravitational field.
The Air Gun shot aimed at his brow hissed as it was sucked into the darkness.
Gaold's Air Gun was on another plane compared to the one that once swallowed a ton of plant matter on Kazra. The black orb couldn't handle the energy and detonated in front of Shirone with a shockwave.
Guh!
Armand's robe instantly stiffened to protect his master. Thrown by the blast, Shirone drove the tendrils into the ground and leapt aside. Ataraxia, now complete, flared with dazzling light.
Magic amplification!
Shirone thrust both hands forward and focused on the two magic‑amplification orbs on his palms. A powerful Photon Cannon formed, scattering small bubble‑like droplets of light through the air.
Now—Immortal Function!
The Photon Cannon ballooned, pushing the surrounding air outward. Golden light shook so violently that afterimages burned on the spectators' retinas.
Psychic Transcendence!
He gave it mass up to the limit and a photon lump the size of a human torso convulsed so fiercely it was visible. The sound of the mass spinning chaotically roared louder than thunder.
Plu went pale.
By the rules, Gaold could no longer attack Shirone. Conversely, Shirone's Photon Cannon was incomparably more powerful than his first casting.
How can he compress light like that?
Shirone still looked unsatisfied and twisted his face further.
A little more! Just a bit more…!
Gaold couldn't attack him anyway. Either Shirone dodged or he blocked. So Shirone's aim was to take away even the possibility of avoidance.
Uaaaaa!
He poured in everything he had and a white sphere, like a newborn star, was born. Ataraxia amplified it to the extreme. The bunker itself would likely be filled with its energy.
Gaold muttered with a bitter smile.
Damn it…
Flash!
A massive wave of light swept outward.
Even Gangnan's team behind Ataraxia turned their heads at the flash that could sear retinas. The form was visible even with eyes closed.
But Shirone could see it—Armand had blocked 98 percent of the light entering his master's pupils.
A déjà vu of a scene unfolded. The light's edge constricted swiftly and an unimaginable atmospheric pressure trapped the Photon Cannon's energy into a Vacuum Press.
Krrrgh!
Gaold's face tightened as he intensified the Vacuum Press. At last the energy stabilized and condensed into an orb of light smaller than a palm.
Shirone went blank.
Is that even human…?
Gaold crouched like a beast, arms hanging. Every strand of his hair had been bleached white. When he clenched his fist, the Vacuum Press detonated and the Photon Cannon vanished.
Hah. That was too close.
Shirone wasn't the only one surprised. Plu—and even Gando, who had long assisted Gaold—had never seen him bleach his hair like that.
Gaold stayed hunched for a long time. Then he turned to Shirone and gave a wry smile.
…Pass.
"He's already unconscious." Gangnan pushed up his glasses and stepped to the center of the bunker.
Shirone lay on the floor as if dead. Ataraxia no longer meant total unconsciousness, but anyone could see this demonstration was a knockout.
Heh. Squeezed him dry. Fine.
Gaold shrugged his aching arm a couple times, picked up the cable on the floor, and slung it over his shoulder.
Gangnan stared at Gaold's completely white hair. This Vacuum Press had been one where Gaold had truly put his all—hence a pass.
"You should dye your hair. It already looks old; this just makes you look older."
"Leave it. It'll grow back. I hear bleaching's fashionable these days, right?"
"That's what I've heard. But fashion doesn't suit the Association Chief's face."
"Kahaha!"
Gaold threw back his head and laughed heartily, then headed for the elevator.
He pressed the button, looked back at Plu, and said, "Hey, kid."
"Yes, sir!"
Plu, tense, snapped to attention.
After two years with him, Shirone had thought he knew Gaold—but that was a mistake. The Gaold he'd known was not the whole man.
Gaold nodded toward the fallen Shirone. "Take him and put him to bed. When he wakes, bring him to my room."
"Yes! Understood!"
That was all the interest Gaold showed Plu.
Plu looked at him with sad eyes.
She'd cried—tears and snot—and shouted that she admired him. The bravest thing she'd ever done. But Gaold didn't seem moved; maybe it had already been erased from his memory.
"Plu." Gando put a hand on Plu's shoulder. "I'll take Shirone."
"Oh no, of course I should."
"Men are heavy. And you can't use magic if we go up to the first floor."
Gando stepped into the bunker, hooked Shirone's arm, and hauled him up. Then with practiced ease he turned Shirone's body and slung him onto his back.
It didn't take long before Plu heard Gando's voice.
"You were brilliant, Plu."
The meaning of his words sank in quickly. Plu, who had been staring with watery eyes, felt a thin smile form.
"Thank you."
The Worst Project (1)
Shirone opened his eyes. His head throbbed for a moment, then a refreshing clarity followed.
He was lying in the Association's recovery room. Each capsule had a glass ceiling, big enough for one adult, and the cushion was soft.
When Shirone blinked a few times, the glass lid clicked and folded aside. Plu's thin face appeared in the narrow opening.
"How are you? Feeling any better?"
"Ah—yes. What happened?"
"You fainted in the bunker. You overexerted yourself casting magic. Next time, even if it means reducing the Spirit Zone, raise the density. It'll prevent brain overload."
Plu's voice was gentler than before. It felt awkward to Shirone, but he didn't show it—he'd seen the sadness in her eyes.
"Thank you."
Shirone sat up.
Capsules like the one he'd been in were lined up in rows. Most glass lids were open, but someone slept in a corner.
"That's the on‑duty keeper. Sleep capsules boost mental activity. Still, don't overdo it. They're not miracle cures."
Shirone climbed out and stretched. He felt clear, like after a deep sleep.
"How long was I out?"
"Two hours. You recovered faster than expected. I figured six."
Satisfied with his mental durability, Shirone loosened up. Then he glanced at Plu; compared to a few hours ago there was an odd distance between them.
"Um—"
"Follow me. The Association Chief is asking for you."
Before he could speak, Plu walked to the exit. Shirone followed her to the elevator. As she checked the floor she said, "Just in case you missed it—you passed."
He'd fired the Photon Cannon and fainted, so he hadn't heard Gaold's words. Plu had looked crestfallen, so he'd expected as much.
"Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me. You're going into the chief's circle now—he'll take you to heaven."
Plu spoke what she already knew.
From now on Shirone would be given access to top‑level secrets no ordinary person could touch. There was no need for discretion anymore.
"And we'll be the latecomers. I won't directly assist Gaold, and Gando won't either. It means the operation is on a scale that only the very best can handle."
Plu turned to Shirone.
"I don't know exactly what he's planning. But Gaold said it's a project he's spent his life preparing for. If he has collaborators, they'll be the finest mages—an elite, so small in number. You're included."
Shirone felt apologetic hearing that. To work with someone of Gaold's caliber was the highest honor for a mage.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."
Ataraxia was a secret Shirone had risked his life to master. But there were mages who would throw away their lives to raise their level. He couldn't claim all the credit.
Plu smiled and shook her head.
"Honestly, I thought the same and looked down on you. Being chosen by Gaold because you learned a spell from someone else bruised my pride."
"But after watching you face Gaold in the bunker, I changed my mind. I'd die for Gaold if necessary, but I don't have the guts to stake my life like you did."
"Don't think like that. You deserve the chief's recognition."
Hearing that from Plu felt different from anyone else. Though brief, the times they'd bickered as mentor and mentee flashed like a film.
Sensing Shirone's slightly sweet look, Plu recoiled in disgust. Hastily regaining her old composure, she jabbed a finger at him like striking an intruder through the defenses.
"But you're far from finished! I acknowledge Ataraxia's power, but you need to refine it to cover the risks. A true mage can respond to countless abnormal situations."
Shirone didn't dismiss it. Plu's feat—subduing a vampire in Gold City—proved she was more than worthy of wearing the Association badge.
"Yes. I'll work hard, senior."
"Hmph!"
The elevator doors opened with a clear electronic chime.