Chapter 89
The streets of Marita City in the dead of night.
The artworks displayed by countless nameless artists were rolling miserably across the ground under the name of protest.
The protesters' message was simple.
They were crying out for freedom—for an end to our oppression and for artists' convictions to be respected.
And yet they were throwing away the very works that could be called the artists' proof of existence.
"Tsk."
I bent down, picked up a painting discarded on the ground like trash, and casually placed it on one of the benches that had somehow survived.
"Good grief."
This was why I couldn't look favorably upon protests.
But I had no intention of blaming those protesters in particular.
When dozens or hundreds of people around you were consumed by madness, raising their voices and resorting to violence, it was strange to be the only sane person insisting that what was wrong was wrong.
Reason was gradually being devoured by the monster known as the crowd, so how could anyone offer a rational opinion in the middle of it?
Besides, since the city's military had been the ones to light the fuse of this protest, the protesters certainly had plenty to say.
"Well, is that any of my business?"
I had merely been feeling sentimental because I was reminded of memories from my previous life. Nothing more, nothing less.
After muttering that, I exhaled smoke from my mouth and began covering my entire body with it.
The mana control I had honed to its limit thanks to Bellias's training.
Using that mana control, I wrapped my body in extremely high-density smoke and projected my mental image through it.
Crackle.
It was a technique I normally couldn't use because I was trapped within the limitations of smoke, but it was an expansion of my ability made possible by two things: my training with Bellias and experiencing my limits for the first time in my life.
Ah, of course, this wasn't a second awakening.
It simply felt as though I had managed to escape, if only slightly, from being confined by the concept of smoke.
"Phew..."
The bench behind me and the shattered statues scattered along the street passed straight through my body, creating the illusion that I wasn't there at all.
Smoke made from mana compressed to its limit.
Using that smoke to refract the surrounding light, it was a kind of optical camouflage.
Whoosh.
Thus rendered transparent, I began running swiftly through the city.
The rear of the protest.
The protesters' main body.
Eventually, I reached the very front line, where the protesters and the city's soldiers and police were clashing most fiercely.
Whoosh.
Using mana-formed legs to cover all that distance at high speed, I finally arrived.
At the Marita Museum.
I had heard that security was lax, but even so, quite a large number of guards were still protecting the museum.
I settled into an alley near the museum, opened my mouth, and began exhaling an incredibly thin, faint smoke that the guards wouldn't notice.
'Hmm.'
The information that came in through the smoke as it spread.
The guards' positions, the approximate types of security magic circles, the structure of the museum, and finally, the strange phenomenon sensed at the center of the museum.
'That must be it.'
The center of the museum.
The room where the first edition of the great novelist Christo's novel was on display.
Actually, calling it a strange phenomenon was a bit much. It was more like someone had noticed my smoke and quickly pushed it away.
Someone skilled enough to detect my highly concealable smoke and drive it away.
Naturally, that person had to be a member of [Organization] waiting to receive me at this very museum.
Having reached that conclusion, I left the alley, climbed over the museum wall, and entered the museum.
Swish.
Once I arrived at the museum, I dispersed the smoke wrapped around my body and began walking calmly while admiring the countless masterpieces by artists displayed throughout the museum.
Clack.
In the dead of night.
Outside, the clashes between protesters, police, and soldiers were deafening.
But inside the museum, it was eerily still and chillingly quiet.
Clack.
Countless works of art.
Paintings, plaster statues, portraits, landscapes. I had the distinct illusion that every one of them was watching me.
'No.'
It wasn't an illusion.
I turned my head and looked at a plaster statue sculpted in the image of a beautiful woman.
Its eyes had shifted ever so slightly—truly, only slightly.
Come to think of it, I had heard something before.
Hadn't they said that an unusually large number of artists in the past had awakened mana?
The Marita Museum was the place where works that artists who had awakened mana considered the masterpieces of their lifetimes were gathered.
"..."
Mana was an energy that responded to the user's mental image.
If so, perhaps it was only natural for mana to dwell within works of art created in a state of extreme concentration.
"Don't worry."
In the dead of night.
An intruder who had suddenly appeared in a place where an ordinary person could never enter.
I spoke to the works of art that were subconsciously wary of me.
"I'm not here to harm any of you."
[...]
"I simply have business with the person in the center of this museum, where Christo's works are displayed."
Creak.
[Dan...ger...]
As soon as I finished speaking, letters began to appear on one of the paintings.
Perhaps it was because I had adopted the posture of someone admiring the artworks after entering.
Or perhaps the unidentified person who had entered the central room had instilled fear in the artworks.
Honestly, since I wasn't an artwork myself, I couldn't really say.
[Man... knight... life... activation... enhancement?]
Now, rather than coming from a single painting, voices began bursting from countless works of art as though in resonance.
They were too inorganic to be called voices.
And yet they carried too much emotion to be called mere sounds from objects.
"..."
Honestly, it was such an unpleasant sight that anyone who saw it would think they were looking at a scene from a horror movie.
Perhaps it was because of the museum's uniquely enormous structure; the sounds inside reverberated, causing the voices of the artworks to echo.
But beneath those voices lay concern for the person who had come to admire them.
"Um. I appreciate the concern, but... hmm!"
It was then, while I was quietly listening to the voices of the artworks echoing through the museum.
A sword aura was fired from far away.
Slash----!
Clang!
I instinctively blocked the sword aura with smoke, and with a tremendous boom, it left a small scratch on my smoke barrier.
"Huh..."
My smoke barrier was so sturdy that even an ordinary knight would have to put everything into an attack to leave a scratch like that.
After all, it was an always-active defense that protected me twenty-four hours a day. What good would it be if it were weak?
That sword aura had scratched it?
'Impressive.'
Perhaps I needed to raise my estimate of the enemy's full strength a little. I was thinking that when—
[----!!]
The artworks.
The artworks that had been speaking moments ago began screaming as though they were in agony.
"..."
The screams of countless works of art.
Amid those screams, I turned my head and looked at the countless works of art crying out.
They were unharmed.
The sword aura had flown through the room, but it hadn't swept away the artworks.
It felt as though it had concentrated all its power solely on attacking me.
But hadn't I clearly said it before?
That mana was energy capable of containing a mental image.
What sort of mental image had been contained in that attack for this phenomenon to occur?
[---!!!]
Leaving the screams of the artworks behind, I took a cigar from inside my clothes and began walking deeper into the museum.
Snick.
I carefully cut the front of the cigar with a cigar cutter.
Ting.
I took out the lighter I often used and lit the tip of the cigar.
Then a strange, sweet scent, like a burning fruit tree, began tickling my nose.
Step. Step.
As I slowly made my way toward the center of the museum, breaking the achievement of smoking a cigar inside an art museum, I discovered a middle-aged man sitting cross-legged in the center, concentrating as though meditating, with a sword resting across his thighs.
"What a ridiculous spectacle."
Even though the middle-aged man clearly knew I was approaching, he stubbornly continued meditating, and I couldn't help saying that.
Did he think the situation was some kind of sacred duel ritual?
In reality, it was a terrorist with a bizarre creed and an apostle of justice coming to apprehend him... No, that was a little embarrassing for me to say.
I wasn't exactly righteous... Was I?
Yeah. Just a gangster who had run into a terrorist? A thug? Umm. It was hard to put into words.
"You've come."
While I was busy pondering how to define myself, the man's voice reached my ears.
Was that what the voice of a starving wild animal sounded like?
It was only a short phrase, but it was so far from a normal voice that I could almost hear phlegm boiling and a growl rumbling beneath it.
"My name is Sailor."
Sailor?
"I am Sailor, the knight of [Lainas] who suffered humiliation on that train."
[Lainas] and the train?
Ah. The knight who had taken over Kyron's body?
"So you came in person this time?"
Last time, you came like a coward using possession magic.
At my mocking words, Sailor slowly rose from his spot.
'Damn...'
Looking at Sailor, I would normally have attacked him with smoke or something.
But that was impossible.
Should I call it an attack, or perhaps preparation?
In a confined space like this, one of my habits was to seize control of the surroundings with smoke first.
But.
Slash.
Around Sailor.
In other words, within the maximum radius of the sword he wielded.
Whenever my smoke attempted to take control within that radius, he swung his sword at an imperceptible speed and drove it away.
Slash.
"Whew... I suppose I should call you the real deal? You're strong."
"Hng... Of course."
Clack.
"Abel. I gave everything to kill you, so I should at least be this strong."
He gave everything?
Come to think of it, Sailor's condition was far too strange.
Besides, what had the artworks said about Sailor earlier?
[Man... knight... life... activation... enhancement?]
'They definitely said that.'
Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble!!
An overwhelming presence began bursting forth.
A traditional knight.
As I watched Sailor concentrate even his killing intent in one place instead of scattering the pressure around him, just as befitted a traditional knight, I too began releasing my mana in response.
Crackle!
When Sailor's killing intent met the mana I was releasing, the air began to tremble.
Crack.
At the same time, the museum began to scream.
The walls cracked and the ceiling thundered from nothing but the collision of killing intent.
It was still limited to this central room, but if we fought here like this, the museum might end up half-destroyed.
I was just about to click my tongue at the thought when—
Flutterrrrr!
At the center of the museum, the displayed work that Sailor had been leaning his back against.
The first edition of the great novelist Christo's final masterpiece began to open.
Flash!
At the same time, blinding light burst from the opened book, and the figures of Abel and Sailor vanished without a trace.
***
'I see. So Sara was telling the truth.'
His view changed in an instant.
It wasn't the museum. What should he call it?
Sailor came to his senses inside what appeared to be a gigantic fortress, and at once launched an attack at Abel, who looked slightly bewildered.
Crunch!
"Hup!"
"Hah!"
The great novelist Christo had lived hundreds of years ago.
If so, how much mana and time had been infused into the first edition of the final work left behind by a man who had died centuries ago?
Kaboom!
Sara had chosen the center of the museum where Christo's work was displayed as the site of their decisive battle based on that fact.
It was a secret record known only to those in the know, but she had discovered that Christo's first edition possessed the ability to trap other people inside its own body, which was why she had made that choice.
Bellias was supposed to come in with Abel, and Sara had planned to deal with Bellias, but for some reason, the magical device installed in the museum showed only Abel's figure.
Sara had probably said that Bellias was coming to her, but from Sailor's perspective, it wasn't worth worrying about.
No—in the first place, Sailor, whose cognitive abilities had been wrecked by [Vital Flame], was in no state of mind to consider any other option.
In other words, there was only one thought left in Sailor's mind.
Only.
Slash.
Abel.
An esper.
The singularity of this world.
Slash.
One of those accursed espers—the species that had burned his wife, his son, and even the child in his wife's womb to death while they were still alive.
Slash.
So he would kill him. Kill him. Kill him.
"Kill!!"
"He's completely insane."
Abel clicked his tongue in disgust at Sailor, who was muttering as he cut through the smoke Abel had deployed, and waved his hand.
At the same time, Abel's smoke shot in from all directions like needles.
Sailor shattered the ground, twisted his body as it sprang upward from the recoil, and scattered sword auras in every direction.
Slash. Slash. Slash. Slash.
Tap.
After using his sword aura to deflect Abel's smoke shooting at him from all directions, Sailor immediately kicked off a floor tile suspended in midair and charged at Abel.
Slash.
Abel's reaction was slightly late, as though he had never expected Sailor to use a fragment of stone floating in the air as a foothold.
"...Damn."
Abel gave a wry smile when he saw that part of his constantly deployed barrier had been cut.
It had happened because he failed to respond calmly to the sudden change in the surrounding environment and Sailor's maddened appearance.
"Hah!"
Sailor couldn't hide his ferocious smile at the fact that he had cut through Abel's defense.
He had cut it.
Abel's defense.
The cut had been slightly shallow and hadn't reached his body, but it had worked. He could do it.
I can kill Abel now!
"Hahahahaha!!"
Sailor was just about to follow up with another attack on Abel when—
Sailor's vision began to flow slowly.
Time felt as though it had been split and subdivided to its absolute limit.
Sailor had experienced this phenomenon before.
The sensation of everything moving slowly, his thoughts becoming incredibly clear, and his brain racing at high speed.
A flash before one's eyes.
'Why?'
He had clearly seized the advantage. So why was he seeing a flash before his eyes?
Without realizing it, Sailor rolled his eyes toward Abel's face.
Abel looked irritatingly relaxed. But when his defense had been wounded by Sailor's attack, he had plainly shown a trace of confusion.
And in Abel's hand was a small black smoke orb.
A smoke orb?
"!!!!!!!"
That was it. That was dangerous!
The moment he realized it, Sailor abandoned the close range he was most proud of and leaped backward, widening the distance from Abel as he drew harsh breaths.
"Haa... haa... haa..."
It was not a rational or logical judgment, but an instinctive one.
If I had gone any farther in just then, I probably would have died.
As Sailor paused to catch his breath, Abel's voice reached his ears.
"Ah, what a shame."
Smiling as he showed Sailor the black smoke orb on his finger, reminiscent of a black pearl, Abel looked at him.