[459] The Call of Ra (1)
"Puh!"
The rider of the iron wall exhaled.
Moments later, his electrical barrier shattered like glass.
Blood ran in a diagonal line from his shoulder to his waist, and his upper body slid down as if greased.
'Defense magic's gone.'
Gaold tensed a muscle and popped his dislocated shoulder back into place.
For someone sensitive to pain it would have been unbearable, but his eyes swept only the surroundings.
The afterimages of Cage B Team swirled like a storm, but their movements were clearly deliberate.
'What are they aiming for?'
So far the damage dealers hadn't shown their heavy hitters.
Of course they knew ordinary attacks wouldn't work.
'Trying to bait the Terminator?'
Probably. Almost certainly.
'They wouldn't put more than one unregulated operative in a Cage-class team. Which means…'
This was the last chance.
Cage B Team was hunting for a single, perfect strike to trap him. If he could stop that one strike, victory would be his.
Gaold's mouth twitched at the thought.
"Nonsense."
He leveled his hand at the metal mage Roche.
Puh-puh-puh-puh—!
When the air cannon detonated, Roche—unable even to attempt a counter—threw up a metal barrier in front of him.
Kakakakakakang!
A deafening roar filled the air as scorch marks from air-bullets scored the steel.
"Grr!"
Roche ground his teeth as vibrations driven by divine power hammered him.
He kept thickening the barrier, but the air projectiles chewed through the metal like a ravening beast.
Eventually the clay-like metal wall crumpled, and dozens of holes tore Roche's body.
It took only one second for the airgun to punch through a twenty-centimeter-thick barrier.
That single second, however, bought Rose the time to close on Gaold.
'That's enough.'
Scent magic—Pleasure.
A top-tier aroma spell that affects the mind, it stimulated the human brain to summon the most intense nostalgia of one's life.
Gaold's face twisted cruelly.
What emotional fragility he had was being wildly amplified and assailing him.
"Grr!"
Hell opened within him; brutal discipline unfurled and his world became a private inferno.
It only made an already violent beast thrash harder—but Rose had a different plan.
He couldn't be subdued by force. Better to rile him up and create a cognitive blind spot.
That blind spot was the only weakness that could subdue Gaold.
"Roch-eeeee!"
But Rose had overlooked one thing.
It was fortunate for Gaold that it hadn't been deliberate, but the fact the fallen was Roche struck a perfect, vital nerve.
Tarban—Roche's childhood friend—erupted with rage, and that emotion collided with Gaold's fury to open a new gap.
"Gah!"
Wind-sliced through Rose's throat, and Gaold's upturned sclera followed Tarban's movement.
'It's over.'
Horkin sprang at Gaold, acting outside the plan.
Tarban—and every mage here—were young, talented figures.
'For the kingdom's future, end this now.'
Regardless of the target's reaction, Horkin triggered a detonation spell.
He cast Suicide—a self-detonation spell that temporarily synchronized mana—and a powerful explosion swept the area.
This wasn't a shrunken battle arena, so the blast radius was enormous.
Cage B Team scrambled away and stared numbly at the drifting blaze.
Horkin's message was unmistakable: he had given his life.
He was the oldest among Cage B Team, the man who had been a father to so many mages.
"That old man…"
Tarban ground his teeth.
It should have been his mission in the first place.
But even to the end, he was the ultimate tactician.
The force of Suicide was no less than Tarban's Kaiser Blast.
"Is he dead?"
Saint Moriac's voice dropped low.
As the blaze faded, a dark silhouette resolved.
Gaold stood, blood trickling from his brow, wearing a grim, uneasy expression.
"Still alive."
With that, the mission was over in failure.
Rose, the strategist, was dead, and they had lost both dealers—Roche and Horkin.
"Only one choice remains."
Weigan, the communications mage, said.
"Do we go all the way, or do we turn back now?"
No one wanted to retreat.
Only Horkin's wish that whoever could live should live stayed heavy on their minds.
"We go all the way."
At Tarban's words, the insect mage Veem stepped forward.
"We have to report to headquarters. Not all of us can go."
"Pick anyone. I'll stay."
Weigan raised a hand.
"I'll go. I'm of little use in combat anyway."
Even if no one would likely survive facing Gaold, no one blamed Weigan. She had the pride to be on Cage B Team; the others were simply grateful she chose to shoulder the shame of survival.
"Then shall we move out?"
As the remaining members turned, Gaold shot forward with startling speed.
He'd realized continued fighting was meaningless.
"You were a decent team. For you lot, anyway."
Killer intent flashed in Tarban's eyes.
"You don't really think it's over, do you?"
If it could stop a Suicide, Kaiser Blast would be useless too.
But they had to try. That's what a Terminator does.
"Stand down."
Gaold relaxed his body and straightened.
"The game's over. I let you play long enough, didn't I?"
"Play? Play?"
Vibrational energy gathered in Tarban's hands.
Gaold continued as if uninterested.
"And besides… you can't go back."
While Cage B Team exchanged puzzled looks, Weigan asked,
"You mean we can't return? Why?"
"You were probably planning to use the metagate the Association gave you to get back, right?"
No one answered, but before the former head of the Magic Association—Gaold—secrecy had no weight.
"Chances are Miro's spatiotemporal layer is gone. So the metagate coordinates would be scrambled."
Weigan's brow furrowed.
The reason Heaven's army couldn't threaten humanity was that between the two dimensions there was an inserted layer of space-time—Miro's spatiotemporal layer—that scrambled information.
Therefore, except for Miro, the lord of that layer, no heavenly being could decode the encryption on Miro's layer.
But the metagate stores fixed coordinate values—the coordinates that existed when Miro's layer was present.
If, as Gaold said, Miro's spatiotemporal layer had vanished, the recorded coordinates were likely useless.
"How likely is it that Miro's layer is gone?"
Saint Moriac asked.
Given that Cage B Team had no way to kill Gaold, there was no reason to think he was lying.
But the metagate would activate in only a minute.
If Gaold was wrong, they'd be throwing away their chance to return.
"Not a hundred percent. But over eighty percent."
"Over eighty percent?"
Cage B Team murmured.
"From what I gathered, Miro was seized by the archangel Kariel. If it's the Archangel of Creation, he'd find a way."
Miro was in Heaven.
The new fact scrambled everyone's thoughts.
If Miro's layer had been destroyed, Heaven's army could come to the surface.
The Association would learn soon enough, but by then it might already be too late. Every second counted.
"We have to check for ourselves, don't we?"
Moriac looked around; Tarban answered,
"How?"
"Only by going in ourselves."
"So who's going to do it?"
"I'll go."
Weigan raised her hand again.
No one objected, and Weigan activated the metagate.
Standing before the black sphere, she glanced back at her comrades.
There was over an eighty percent chance she'd die. Emotionally, almost a hundred.
"If the coordinates haven't changed, I'll come straight back—be ready to leave."
Because of that plan, even a minute was tight.
Tarban nodded.
"Come back quick. Don't wander off."
"Haha! You never know."
Weigan gave a cute wink and stepped into the metagate.
A minute passed, and she did not return.
* * *
Great World War.
A small magic circle rose above Miro's crown and seeped into her mind.
Miro's brow narrowed slightly.
A restraint of a different order than any human-made mana control device.
Moreover, it was a dangerous circle that would trigger an explosion simply by entering the Spirit Zone.
"Why not kill her? The dimensional walls should be gone already."
Kariel sneered.
"Don't worry. It'll be over soon."
Even if Miro's spatiotemporal layer was destroyed, Heaven's army wouldn't move without Anke Ra's permission.
They needed an independent force to wipe out those loathsome humans.
So Miro still had value.
Kariel had already convened an archangel council. If he could secure support from eight archangels, they'd have the strength to exterminate humanity.
And with Gaold attacking Heaven, even Anke Ra wouldn't be able to remain idle.
"Anticipate a splendid execution ceremony."
Kariel smiled coldly and departed for the archangel conference room.
Despite the precariousness of her situation, Miro showed no particular fear.
'Not killing me means the final war is postponed. But why?'
She still couldn't tell.
She would need someone's help to realize whatever she'd seen and to begin acting.
'Gaold is here?'
Then Sein would be with him too.
Though her mistake had brought terrible tragedy to Gaold, now that Miro's layer was destroyed, all she could hope was they'd carry out their mission properly.
'Still…'
"Nng. Nng."
Arius whimpered sympathetically and nuzzled the one whose powers had been bound.
Miro stroked his chin like petting a puppy and raised an eyebrow.
'What on earth have these idiots been doing for twenty years?'
* * *
Seventh Heaven Ara-bot.
Ikael sat on the floor and fell into quiet meditation.
Ashur had gone to gather information on Kariel's movements but hadn't returned.
Even one who tinkers with signals at will would struggle to observe the Great World War without Kariel noticing.
Because he constructs information by using interference between signals, it would likely take much longer than usual.
All the more, Ikael's anxiety swelled.
Purgatory's affairs were acting strangely. What on earth was happening?
As she sighed softly and sought calm, a voice sounded in her head.
—Ikael.
Her eyes snapped open.
It was Anke Ra's voice, heard after a very long time.
—Sinner, Ikael is summoned.
—The time to answer has come.
—Answer? What do you mean?
Anke Ra did not explain that part.
—Appear before me. Your sins are forgiven.
In her wide-open eyes a light kindled, brilliant as if a galaxy flowed through them.
'Finally…'
The long penance—bound by the guilt that had restrained her powers—passed quickly.
She felt no elation or joy.
Only a resolve to reclaim the archangel's seat and set all the disorder back in place.
—I understand.
Ikael sprang up and left the room.
Her form blurred, and in an instant she flew to the high spire of Ara-bot.