[453] The Beginning of Change (5)
Two kilometers from the First Rebel Army Headquarters.
Gaold walked through the dark forest.
Hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed ahead, his gaze took in nothing of the scenery.
Twenty years ago, he had met a woman.
She was so different from him that, even when he disliked her, his curiosity made his eyes turn to her of their own accord.
Human ties are strange. The heart has no substance, and because of that you can't predict where it will drift.
Perhaps Gaold was full of regret.
Maybe he hated this reality because he had thrown everything away for that woman, and now only hell remained.
But he could neither cut off the love he had given nor take it back. So he walked through that hell until he reached the center of a lonely clearing.
In the silence where even birdsong was absent, Gaold looked up at the open sky.
Countless stars shone.
A sky he hadn't seen in a very long time.
Miro was not among those stars. Miro lived somewhere connected to the ground beneath his feet.
Thud. Thud.
He forced his pounding chest to calm and spoke into the deep woods.
"Stop coming out. You're alone, so there's no need to stall."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than twenty-one figures emerged from the darkness.
Tormia Magic Association — Cage B Team.
They had once all been Gaold's subordinates, though few knew their faces.
But as the former head of the Association, he knew exactly how dangerous they could be.
No one could surpass Gaold by sheer physical power, of course, but just as scissors can beat a fist and the sea can overwhelm the wind, magic has its own counters.
And a team dispatched to eliminate him wouldn't be without off-the-books operatives.
Their captain, Rose, stepped forward.
A dense, deadly intent he'd never seen on her before shimmered across her face.
"Since when did you notice?" she asked.
Rose — a rank-4 scent mage. He had known her since his days as Association head.
"Heh. Do I even need to notice? If you're aiming at me…" Gaold said.
That was also why he had come alone.
The twenty-one had come to kill him, and they would enter with the conviction that a few deaths didn't matter if their goal was achieved.
If Gaold had not been alone, they would never have acted—they'd wait for an opportunity to strike from behind.
This had to be finished now, at the moment the project they'd prepared for twenty years was about to begin.
"Surround him."
At Rose's command, the other twenty wove together like a net and teleported into position.
Gaold kept his hands behind his back and stared only at Rose.
He felt no desire to avoid the fight, no reluctance about killing comrades—none of that.
Only this: the Cage B Team knew Gaold, and Gaold did not know the Cage B Team.
Even if he did, the tactical permutations born from twenty different mages were almost infinite.
All he could do was think about what he himself could do.
Ssssss.
Even the sound of grass brushing was as loud as thunder. Those behind him shifted.
Benifis, the meat-obsessed one, drew a cleaver and checked the comrades to his left and right.
The insect mage Beam nodded, the curse mage Reid combined omniscience and omnipotence.
Facing Tormia's strongest man, a single thought rose in everyone's minds.
"This won't take long."
"Hey, juniors."
At Gaold's voice, the twenty-one flinched in unison.
"What kind of resolve is this? Coming here to die, are you?"
Killer intent filled their eyes.
As if twenty-one wills had been set alight, smoke seemed to rise from their bodies.
They were preparing to die—those who had renounced life burned their remaining years to ignite their will.
* * *
In the spot Gaold had vacated, nine people including Sein had lit torches in the clearing behind the headquarters and sat in a circle.
Sein's expression was unusually relaxed.
Perhaps he was recalling memories from twenty years ago, before he was known as the brutal mage of the Black Line.
"About the Judgment of the Twenty…" Sein began.
"There aren't many who know the details. But the story that ties Miro, me, and Gaold together is known only to the three of us."
The group waited with bright eyes.
But Sein's mouth didn't open easily.
He felt the weight of revealing a very small, very personal secret that had occurred within one of humanity's greatest events.
"I loved Miro."
No one could refute the sudden confession, so Sein continued.
"And Gaold loved Miro too."
Sein looked up at the sky, much like Gaold had.
"Maybe it's not an important story. But for us, it was everything."
This was the story.
"Twenty years ago: the coldest man in the world, the most talented woman in the world, and—"
A man who had once wished only to live obediently under God came to hate God, to curse Him, to mock Him, and to leap into hell. It was a story of monstrous sorrow.
"The kindest fool in the world was attending the Alpheas School of Magic."
Sein's tale began.
The Yor Order of Tormia.
The Yor faith was a global religion that, even through humanity's dark ages, had never waged war and had a history of dispensing only benevolence.
Within their ranks there were no formal titles, and distinctions of commoner and noble meant nothing.
Only the Yora—those who preached the order's doctrine—lived in the church, and they never accepted money. They lived by the voluntary service and donations of the faithful, practicing a vowed poverty that made them beloved by all.
"Thank you, Lord Yor."
Under the sun-drenched order, a young man knelt clutching a pendant bearing Yor's emblem—a small circle with a cross—and prayed.
"May all the world's unhappy find happiness today. Make me your servant. Grant me the courage to love even evil."
His face was pale, skin childlike and clean. He seemed to be filled with nothing but purity—this was Gaold, twenty years ago.
"Are you offering a prayer of thanks for entering the graduation class?"
Gaold opened his eyes as the prayer ended.
Tear tracks glistened at the corners of his eyes.
"Yora."
Blushing, Gaold wiped his tears and rose.
"The graduation class starts today."
Michea Gaold.
Even among Yor followers he was a peculiarly good-natured child.
When people heard he was entering the School of Magic, they were puzzled.
Magic is force, and force invites violence. But Gaold wanted to learn magic precisely because of that.
He believed that to understand mages—who denied the gods despite sharing traits with divinity—he had to understand magic himself.
"Then I'll be going."
Gaold headed to the Alpheas School of Magic.
He had worked hard to reach the graduation class. Fierce competition awaited, but in perseverance he would not lose to anyone.
"Lord Yor, grant me strength."
As the advanced-class students' entrance ceremony proceeded, Gaold found the classmate he least wanted to run into while walking through the park.
Sein—his enemy since Class Seven.
He couldn't ignore him, so Gaold offered a handshake.
"From today, the real competition begins. Let's do our best."
Sein didn't even look at him.
"Why should I shake your hand? If you want to shake hands with me, bring your god in front of me."
Gaold's mood soured and his voice rose.
"I never forced my thoughts on you. Why are you always picking fights? Your way of speaking is just—"
Thus began another tiresome argument.
About ten minutes later, a woman's voice called from a distance.
"Hey, you two!"
Sein's eyes brightened when he turned his head.
Adrias Miro.
She was the most notable graduation-class student at Alpheas.
Although she'd been suspended for a year for burning a lab for personal reasons, her skill was already spoken of abroad.
"Can't you hear? Come over here."
When the two approached, Miro set a box of experimental materials down and wiped sweat from her brow.
"Phew, this is heavy. You two freshmen, right? Move this to my lab."
Sein tilted his head. "Why should we? I thought there was no seniority starting from the graduation class."
"Well… it looks like you're wasting your energy on pointless fights. Save your strength and lend a hand, would you?"
It was a fair point, so Gaold agreed readily.
"All right. Then I'll—"
"Wait. I'm not helping."
"Fine. But I will help."
"No, I can't accept you helping. You call our argument pathetic? Everything in this world is a shard born from collisions of opinion."
Miro frowned.
"You're awfully stiff. Is that how you are normally?"
Gaold laughed heartily.
"Haha! Well, this guy—"
"He's Sein. You must have heard the name even if you're in the graduation class."
Sein cut in and introduced himself, and Miro finally slapped her hands together in surprise.
"Oh, you're Sein? That Servant?"
Sein's expression didn't change, as if it were natural she knew him.
"I've heard of your skills. But now that I'm here, first place is mine. You'd better be nervous."
Miro paid no heed to Sein's words.
"I heard you're cold-blooded? You really don't get excited at all? Can you even be called human?"
"It's not that I don't get excited. I control it. The most important thing for a mage is cool-headedness. I don't waver in any situation."
"Hmm, I don't believe you. If you're human, you have emotions; you should follow wherever your heart moves."
A mage talking about emotion—Sein masked his disappointment and made a suggestion.
"Then why don't we test it? If you make me even slightly angry, we'll carry this box."
"Oh? Really? Fine. Um…"
Miro tapped her lips, rolled her eyes, and snapped her fingers.
"You really can control yourself?"
"Of course. Servant—"
Before Sein could finish, Miro sat down, grabbed his pants, and pulled them down—underwear and all.
"..."
Sein looked as if his soul had left his body.
Gaold beside him wasn't in any better state.
"You—are you crazy...?"
Miro stared and, as if measuring, pinched the length between thumb and forefinger.
"Hmm, so that's what it looks like."
She looked up. "Well? Even now, do you not show any emotional disturbance?"
"Of course not. I would never—"
Sein couldn't finish the sentence.
Miro stood as if unfazed.
"Really? Amazing. I can't believe such a person exists."
Then she clapped as if she'd remembered something.
"Right! Pascal root! I almost forgot that!"
Pointing at Gaold, she asked, "What's your name?"
"Ga—Gaold," he answered automatically, still not quite himself.
"Carry this to my lab. It's dangerous, so be careful. Please."
"Wait! Where is your lab—!"
Miro ran out of the park without hearing him.
Gaold clicked his tongue and looked at Sein.
Although they were rivals, he felt some sympathy for what Sein must be feeling.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Sein slowly pulled his pants back up, then walked away with a dazed look as if not entirely recovered.
Gaold clicked his tongue in pity.
'How did she manage to pull down his underwear? What a strange woman.'
That was Gaold's first impression of Miro.