Chapter 11 - Stones and Magic

“You look a little surprised.”

“Frankly, I am. I wasn't expecting a Demon.”

The woman's tongue swayed mockingly. The mana concentration was rising by the second, until he could feel a stickiness against his skin.

‘A Demon. This couldn't be worse.’

He feigned calm, but his heart pounded. His mana circulated rapidly.

Fortunately, the woman had let her guard down. She knew Galahad was a Mage, so it was only natural.

Demons weren't called the natural enemies of Mages for nothing. All the blood in their bodies was mana—extremely concentrated mana, at that.

Ordinary magic couldn't hurt a creature like that. The spell had to contain mana more concentrated than a Demon's blood. Concentrated enough to require smoking a couple of mana cigarettes.

“Actually, I expected you to be a plant from the Allied Nations. Those fellows are quite industrious, too.”

His mana spun faster still. He was using rotation to compress it. The excessive compression produced a creaking sound—a symptom of mana overload. The heavy mana of the North filled him to the brim.

Galahad stole a glance behind him. The stupid-looking man was nowhere to be seen. He would be waiting outside the door, ready to take down whichever of them came out alive.

POP.

A tiny sound came from near Galahad's heart. It meant his mana compression had reached its limit.

“So, are you going to beg for your life?”

“Would you spare me if I did?”

“I'll think about it.”

“Then I'd better beg.”

The woman's eyes widened, as though she hadn't expected him to actually beg. Then her smile deepened.

“Ahahaha! You idiot! Did you really think I'd let you live? Aren't you adorable?”

Her tongue swept over Galahad's face. Sharp barbs on its surface scraped his cheek.

The pain stung, but he smiled.

He had closed the distance sufficiently. The woman was grinning like a fool, and his mana was compressed to its limit.

‘Now.’

A shapeless gust shot from Galahad's hand.

“... Huh?”

In that split second, the woman twisted her body.

A long line streaked out behind her, carving a huge gash in the safe house wall.

“Oh dear. I was aiming for your neck.”

Her right arm hit the floor with a thud and tumbled away.

His trump card, and all he'd managed was an arm. What a setback.

Galahad sighed softly. To think she had dodged in that fraction of a second. Being a Demon seemed to make her sensitive to mana. He filed away this new information.

“Aaaaagh!!! How dare a worm like you...!”

“You were the one who lied first. I'm rather angry myself.”

“Die!”

The woman swung her remaining hand violently. Condensed, formless energy shot from it.

‘A mass of mana?’

It was a mass of pure mana.

A mass of mana! Galahad's eyes lit up. Struggling to contain his excitement, he spread his fingers. Mana blazed between them, swelling in volume. He compressed it as much as he could with what he had.

A translucent barrier formed in front of him.

BANG!

Despite the barrier's considerable concentration, the mass of mana shattered it effortlessly and slammed into his shoulder. Galahad crashed into the wall. Agony shot through his back.

“Urgh...”

A groan escaped his lips.

‘Throwing mana just as it is. So this is what a Demon can do.’

He swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth.

‘Fascinating.’

Then how about this?

“Ignition.”

Galahad murmured the word and snapped his fingers.

An explosion erupted beside the woman's face. Despite detonating at point-blank range, all it did was turn her head slightly.

‘Basic magic doesn't work.’

To hurt a Demon, he would have to compress his mana to the limit, as he had before. He would need to smoke at least two mana cigarettes, and the woman didn't look patient enough to wait for him.

“You slippery bastard! Die!”

The woman swung her hand repeatedly. Invisible, heavy attacks shot toward Galahad.

The excitement flooding him accelerated his thoughts. Uncompressed mana could only stop those attacks for the briefest instant.

‘I'll have to make it smaller.’

Galahad twisted his hand. He compressed the mana to the highest concentration he could manage and reduced the size of the spell itself.

It was a shortcut, but the result should be much the same. The drawback was its extremely limited area. To use it, he would have to be as precise and accurate as a knight wielding a sword.

The miniature barrier deflected the energy. Galahad twisted his body at the same time.

WHOOSH.

The compressed wind nearly burst his eardrums. The wall behind him shook violently, a huge scar carved into its solid surface.

‘One mistake and I'm dead.’

Galahad fought desperately to stay calm. Excitement was poison to a Mage.

‘I can't attack this way. The area is too small.’

His ability to contain the mana weakened with distance, making it impossible to use offensively.

Perhaps wary of that, the woman stayed where she was. Maintaining her distance, she kept firing blasts of formless energy.

Merely deflecting them twisted his mana. A tingling sensation spread from his fingertips.

Just then, stones fell from the ceiling. The woman frowned in irritation as they struck her head.

She shrugged off magic, yet mere stones annoyed her. Galahad found it absurd that magic seemed to be worth less than a rock.

‘Of course. If it's worse than a rock, I'll just make it a rock.’

Galahad surveyed his surroundings.

The safe house interior was astonishingly sturdy. Despite the repeated pounding from the invisible energy, all it had done was crack. As a result, quite a few fist-sized stones lay scattered about.

“Ignition.”

Galahad aimed beside the woman and snapped his fingers. An explosion erupted below her.

“Idiot.”

The woman sneered, apparently thinking his spell had missed.

Then a stone hurled up from below smacked her in the face. Her head turned as though she'd been slapped.

“You little bastard...”

Venom filled her face.

Galahad snapped his fingers again and again. Explosions erupted in succession.

Normally, this magic couldn't have scratched her. Now, things were different.

“Aagh! You stupid Mage!”

Irritation filled the woman's face as stones rained down from every direction.

‘Fascinating.’

Galahad marveled at this new application of magic. This was its beauty, its charm. The possibilities were endless. How could he not love it?

“Whoops! Hold still, will you? I'm adjusting my aim!”

Galahad rolled across the floor, snapping his fingers.

Rolling around on the floor while casting spells. Another Mage might have fainted at the sight, but for Galahad, a field agent, it was routine.

This time, a flying stone struck the woman's nose. She froze for a moment.

Her high nose collapsed, blood streaming from it. Her face contorted into a mask of monstrous fury. Already ugly, it became uglier still.

Just as he was about to remark that she'd give herself wrinkles—

“I'll kill you! I'll kill you!”

The woman swung her hand. Formless energy spewed out indiscriminately, with a ferocity that dwarfed anything before it.

‘Good heavens.’

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Formless energy erupted on every side. It was an invisible disaster.

The ceiling shook and the floor split. Deep lines scored everything around him. Everything broke apart.

If he got caught in even the slightest part of it, he was finished. This was far beyond anything his barriers could block. His hair stood on end with tension.

He concentrated so hard that tiny blood vessels burst throughout his eyes.

The woman's hand stopped. Her breathing was ragged; the effort seemed to have strained even her.

The surroundings had been laid to waste. Every one of those lovely stones had been pulverized, not a trace of their shapes remaining.

Destroying all the stones. A truly brutish yet effective solution.

“What can you do now?”

Having regained her composure, the woman grinned, her face brimming with confidence.

Galahad fought down his despair and thought.

‘What can I do now?’

His mind raced. He recalled his experience with that perverted lord. He also remembered Adrianna's electrifying hand.

He still had no idea how to reproduce Adrianna's ability. In that case, the perverted lord...

‘Ah, there's that.’

Galahad's gaze fixed on one spot.

A new method had occurred to him. It sounded rather entertaining.

* * *

‘To think magic wounded me.’

The Demon Karntula gnawed on her lip.

Losing an arm to magic. If the other Demons heard about it, they'd mock her for the rest of her life.

‘I nearly died.’

If not for that split-second premonition, she would have lost her head.

For a Mage, the man was remarkably troublesome. Severing her arm, using bizarre magic to fling stones at her—none of it had been expected.

Still, he was a Mage and she was a Demon. No matter how desperately he struggled, the outcome had been decided from the start.

Even so, Karntula didn't let her guard down. This was the man who had cut off her arm.

She maintained her distance and steadily ground him down.

At last, he staggered. He was a pitiful sight, caked in dust and mud, punctures and scratches covering his body. It was a wonder he hadn't collapsed.

“I'm getting bored.”

She had only struggled because his methods were so strange. Losing her arm at the beginning had merely been the result of carelessness.

She flicked her hand lightly, but he failed to dodge. He toppled backward in an ungainly heap.

He struggled to rise, only to collapse again, apparently lacking the strength.

The sweet scent of blood wafting from him made Karntula's head spin.

“Not bad. A Mage, pushing me this far. Impressive.”

She meant it. Strange methods or not, for a Mage to have given Karntula this much trouble was an impressive feat.

The fallen man coughed up blood. He looked ready to die at any moment.

‘It's over.’

Only then did Karntula approach slowly.

She smacked her lips as she watched him writhe. Where should she start eating? His head? Or his legs?

“No, you can't die from just this. Hang on a little longer. You taste better alive.”

“My apologies, but I'm rather difficult to kill.”

The man raised his head with difficulty. When their eyes met, Karntula felt something was wrong.

‘Those eyes...’

He was clearly cornered, yet his eyes remained calm.

He raised his hand. Beneath it lay a large stone. At some point, he had sharpened it to a knifelike edge.

‘So he had this trick up his sleeve.’

How cute.

Karntula snickered and shielded her face with her arm.

“Idiot. How many times are you going to try the same trick?”

BOOOOM!

An explosion erupted. Searing heat tickled Karntula's body.

It was still only a stone. It wouldn't pierce her arm. As long as her head stayed attached, she would win.

After sneering for a while, Karntula suddenly noticed something strange. There was heat, but no pain at all.

Perhaps those eyes had simply frightened her for no reason. Clicking her tongue softly, she lowered her hand.

But the man was gone. He had been right down there. Had he fled in that condition? Did he think he could escape?

Then she heard a cough behind her. Karntula turned and couldn't believe her eyes.

The man stood where she herself had been moments earlier.

‘How did he move so fast in that condition?’

The question was soon answered. The deep burns scored into his back told her everything.

‘... He set off an explosion against his own back and used the blast to propel himself?’

He had used on himself the same method he'd used to fling stones at her.

Insane. Karntula muttered a curse at his horrifying ruthlessness.

The man held something in his hand. It was Karntula's severed arm.

“This isn't usually to my taste, but...”

He lifted the severed arm high and wrung it out.

Red blood flowed from the stump, drenching him.

A Mage drinking Demon blood.

For the first time, Karntula felt fear at the grotesque sight. His actions made no sense.

The blood-soaked man stared at her.

Emotion surfaced in the eyes that had remained calm throughout.

It was...

Rapture, held tightly in check.

Confronted with that unmistakable desire, Karntula took a step back.

Belatedly realizing she had retreated, she grimaced.

She, a Demon, frightened of a Mage.

Then the man swung his hand. The blood coating it sprayed in a long arc.

Suddenly, the world rose higher.

‘... Huh?’

No, Karntula's eye level had dropped.

The pain came a moment later. Looking down, she saw that everything below her ankles had been sliced off. Cleanly.

“... What is this?”

Karntula couldn't understand what was happening.

Why? She hastily twisted her body and raised her head.

“Ah, it works after all. I've used this method before, but your blood is so concentrated that it's even easier.”

The man's voice, so calm until now, rose and fell unevenly. It overflowed with profound joy.

He limped toward her. With every step, he muttered to himself and exclaimed in wonder. It was grotesque.

Karntula swung her hand frantically.

The man snapped his blood-drenched fingers.

Horrific pain tore through her left arm.

“Oh, when magic meets mana of the same concentration, magic wins. Remarkable.”

Before she knew it, he stood right in front of her, looking down.

His eyes were no longer calm.

“Please don't give up as quickly as the last fellow. Do your utmost to hold on. You're a real Demon, after all.”

Wasn't she?

His voice was exceedingly courteous.

As though he were making a sincere request.

“What is this...?”

Karntula never finished.

The man's hand covered her mouth.

“Shh. I need to concentrate, so kindly keep your mouth shut. You talk far too much.”

* * *

‘Drinking Demon blood briefly raises mana concentration. There's a backlash afterward, but it's manageable enough. Nothing but good things happening lately.’

Muttering about his latest discovery, Galahad opened the door.

Outside stood the man from earlier, sword in hand. A distinct aura dwelled in the blade. Inept though he might be, he was still an Intelligence Bureau agent.

Horror spread over his face. He clearly hadn't imagined for a moment that Galahad would win.

Understandable. It had been a Mage against a Demon.

The Mage had simply happened to be Galahad.

The sun was beginning to rise dimly. His back felt cool. No, cold. Refreshing.

“Are we doing this?”

The man looked conflicted. Guilt surfaced on his face. Eventually, he shook his head.

“No. Well, it's my fault.”

A decent fellow. He wouldn't live long. Galahad muttered the words with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Rose was killed by the Demon that attacked the safe house.”

Galahad tossed over the Demon head he'd brought along.

It landed with a thud and rolled over to the man's feet. With a sour expression, he picked it up.

“... Why are you helping me?”

“Everyone makes mistakes. What matters is not repeating them.”

Galahad coughed softly. Blood sprayed from his mouth. He felt a little dizzy. Had he lost too much blood?

“I won't forget this kindness.”

The man's gaze hardened with resolve as he spoke. Kindness? What an idiot. This was a rational calculation.

“I'm Handsome.”

“Your agent name?”

“... Yes. How did you know?”

“It seemed that way. I'm Galahad.”

Handsome narrowed his eyes. Normally, when someone gave their agent name, courtesy demanded that the other person respond in kind. It was much like office workers exchanging business cards. Galahad studiously avoided his gaze.

“Far too much time has passed. I'd better be going. I only stepped out briefly from a team dinner.”

He waved to Handsome and walked slowly away.

Only after Handsome was out of sight did Galahad disperse the mana he had gathered in his hand.

After walking for some time, he reached the tavern. The door was firmly shut.

Apparently, he was far too late.

A familiar figure sat out front. Damian. His mouth was open, catching snowflakes.

Galahad staggered over and sat beside him. His entire body was a mass of pain. Not a single part of him didn't hurt. Leaning against the wall drew a small cry from his lips.

“I told you you'd die.”

Damian's voice was matter-of-fact. Galahad gave a laugh that sounded like a cough.

“This isn't nearly enough to kill me. Did you eat your fill?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Who paid?”

“The man with the narrow eyes.”

“Gilberton? Ha. He'll be grumbling again.”

“He said, ‘That son of a bitch. Just you wait.’”

Galahad laughed as though coughing. Red blood spattered from his mouth.

Silence lingered for a while.

His groan broke it.

“Would you like me to kill you?”

Damian asked in an emotionless voice.

Galahad knew it was his way of being kind.

“No, thank you. I've too much left to do.”

“All right, then.”

After they had sat there for some time, the door swung roughly open.

“Aaaaaagh! What the hell!”

Captain Hook jumped and screamed.

“Why do you open so late? You'll never get rich at this rate. A warm stew, please.”

“Meat for me.”

Captain Hook hesitated briefly, then nodded.

“Welcome!”

A broad smile spread across his face.

The boy offered his hand, not his sword.

Galahad took it with a coughing laugh.

“Don't eat too much. We have to head to the North right away.”

For the first time, emotion appeared on the boy's face.

It was sorrow.