Chapter 147
Of course, humans weren’t given the ability to fly. They did have bones called shoulder blades, but it was impossible to use them to fly through the sky. So one had to rely on tools to do anything even remotely like flying with a bare body, and unfortunately, Ian had no such tools.
What did that mean?
It meant he had no choice but to fall according to gravity.
Swaaaaaaash!!
“Ghk!”
The gas mask rattled in the rushing wind. The strap, unable to withstand the acceleration, trembled violently before coming loose with a pop. Freed in an instant, the gas mask shot up with the wind and then collided with a pigeon, shattering to pieces.
[Piiip!]
The pigeon’s body split cleanly left and right. Hot blood poured down like rain, and Ian grimaced as he was hit squarely by the spray. The words bird flu flashed through his mind for an instant, but that wasn’t what mattered now.
‘If I keep falling like this, I’m dead for sure……!’
If it were only the impact of falling from the fifth floor of an apartment building, the coat could absorb it just fine. It would ache a little, but he could leave the place without a single scratch.
But if he plummeted from a height almost like skydiving and smashed into concrete, his body would vanish without a trace. There would probably be a red flower blooming on the ground.
If he died fighting a mystery or a mage, that would be one thing. But dying out of nowhere in some absurd fall like this was out of the question. Ian roughly wiped away the blood blocking his vision and shouted at the sky.
“Useful magic! Anything—give me something now!”
[Hummm!]
The grimoires responded to his will and flipped through their pages rapidly. Ian’s eyes raced over the spells written on the paper.
First, the Deep-Sea Travelogue.
[Inundation of the Outer Sea]
[It stains everything in sight with the Outer Sea. Vision is temporarily lost.]
A formidable spell, but the price was steep. And at this height, even plunging into water wouldn’t guarantee his safety.
Next, Blue Shackles and the Book of Contract.
[Sylph Summoning Rite]
[Summons Sylph, the spirit that controls the wind.]
A wind spirit.
True, it was a being that could help in the current situation, but unless he made a contract, he couldn’t command a sylph as he pleased. Besides, the summoning rite itself wasn’t simple enough to draw on the fly in midair. By the time he finished drawing it, summoning it, and making the contract, he’d already be kissing the asphalt.
So, pass.
Lastly, Hand of Re-creation.
[Flight]
[Temporarily grants the ability to fly. Immediately after use, the caster experiences weakness and lethargy. Duration: 2 minutes.]
[Materials: 1 object to be imbued with the ability, blood of a winged creature, 2 feathers, 3 pieces of anomalous flesh.]
“Just as I thought, you’re the only one!”
Ian roughly shoved the other two grimoires aside and seized the Hand of Re-creation.
[H-hmm.]
In other words, it was the shy tremble unique to a maidenly grimoire, as if to say, ‘W-what are you doing all of a sudden? H-how embarrassing.’
Maybe not, but in the end, interpretation mattered more than the dream.
“Kyaaak!”
Writing it was incredibly difficult because of the wind, but he managed somehow. He attached the piece of anomalous flesh he always carried on top of it. The magic circle and the flesh stuck together as neatly as magnets snapping together.
He grabbed a bird flying beside him and tore out a feather. He brought the grayish feather to the magic circle and chanted the spell. With one hand he held the grimoire, and with the other he kept the feather from slipping away.
“Because I am a human denied wings, I possess a longing for the divine greater than anyone else. O goddess of purity and creation, grant me the radiant wings with which I may seek an audience with you.”
Humm.
The magic circle etched on the inside of the coat began to glow. The flesh, blood, and feather melted away. Ian’s fall stopped as if it had been a lie. Instead, he floated in the air as if he were in water.
‘This thing works.’
Flight took effect instantly the moment the spell was complete.
He nodded in satisfaction and quickly flew toward the ground. The feeling of soaring freely through the sky was immensely enjoyable, but with only two minutes of duration, he had no time to dawdle. He fell straight down, then slowly reduced his speed once he was about three meters above the ground.
……Thump.
At last, he touched down safely. Ian let out a sigh of relief and leaned his back against the wall for a moment to catch his breath.
Then a horrible lethargy and weakness swept through his whole body. He suddenly didn’t feel like doing anything at all.
‘……Is this the side effect?’
He had expected the side effect to be fairly severe, but as always, there was a massive difference between anticipating something and actually feeling it. Ian knew he should put on some big performance to signal his location right away, but he didn’t actually do it. He just couldn’t be bothered to move.
“……Still, I have to do it. Ugh…….”
He gathered his faltering resolve and peeled himself away from the wall.
That was when something fell beside him with a rattling sound.
……
It was a head. A human head, at that.
It looked freshly dead, with its eyes still open and its moisture still intact. The tip of the tongue, stretched all the way out, had been destroyed. The nose, too, had been ground away on the asphalt and lost all shape of its original form. It had far less nose than that mage whose name must not be spoken.
Any ordinary person would have lost their mind at the sight. But Ian calmly took out a cigarette and put it between his lips. With a hiss, he lit it and drew in a long drag of lemon-scented smoke.
Normally he would have thought through who killed it, what it had been doing when it died, whether the culprit was nearby, and so on. But right now he didn’t particularly feel like it. He knew he should, but his brain just wasn’t working.
‘Damn side effect.’
Ian let out a long sigh and exhaled the smoke.
Well, he had survived thanks to magic, after all. He didn’t resent the grimoires. In fact, he was nothing but grateful. Whatever else happened, wasn’t the simple fact that he had survived the most important thing?
“Phew…….”
Ian cleared his thoughts and desperately tried to think about what he should do next. It was hard to think properly, as if his brain matter had evaporated, but he somehow came up with his next plan.
‘In the end, regrouping comes first. Yuna and Ms. Eunha may have crash-landed somewhere too, so waiting for the signals they send would be a decent option—’
“Did you take care of the apostate?”
Snap.
The train of thought that followed was cut off by a voice coming from the gap in the alley.
“…….”
Ian’s eyes turned cold. He glanced around the alley with the cigarette still in his mouth.
“Yes, it’s taken care of. I killed him as painfully as possible, so the apostate shouldn’t show up for a while.”
“Good. The Cult Leader will be satisfied as well.”
There was a group of men and women huddled in the alley. Five in total. Wearing pure white garments, they were looking down at the headless corpse and chatting.
“If so, I’d have no regrets. He hasn’t seemed to have much energy lately…….”
“Didn’t the lizards slaughter our believers once already? He thinks of the faithful as his own children, so that would make sense…… Who’s there?”
Then, sensing Ian’s gaze, the woman spoke sharply. Their heads all turned toward him at once. If he had been hiding it would have been one thing, but since he was staring openly at them, it wasn’t strange that they noticed.
Once he’d been spotted, there was no need to keep hiding. Ian exhaled a puff of cigarette smoke and walked toward the alley entrance.
“A cult?”
The believers freaked out at his question.
“A cult?! We’re the legitimate religion that serves the one true Messiah and the returning Jesus Christ! There’s no reason for some damned heretic to call us that—”
“A cult, then. Thanks for confirming.”
Ian cut off the priest’s noisy reply and flicked the finished cigarette to the ground. The sweet scent of lemon candy spread through his mouth.
“It’s not strange for cults to thrive in an apocalypse. You’ve done a pretty good job with the authenticity.”
“...You, are you a slave of those lizards? Your clothes are awfully clean.”
A woman wearing a priestly robe with a pattern slightly different from the others asked. Ian let out a snort of laughter.
“If you mean the reptilians, then you’ve got the wrong idea. I’m a mage.”
“...A mage?”
“Yeah. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of magic. Here, look. This is called a grimoire, and it records all kinds of spells, including how to become a mage. If you read it, your brain will probably melt and you’ll die.”
“He’s insane, kill him.”
The woman shook her head and motioned to the believers. They gripped their sword hilts and rushed at Ian.
“And this is a spell called Fireball.”
Keeping his gaze on them, Ian slipped his hand inside his coat. The moment he drew it back out, a revolver was in his grip. The believers froze at the sight of the silver-shining barrel, and Ian smiled faintly.
“Now, the incantation.”
“T-this is Korea! There’s no way some lunatic could be carrying a revolver that big—”
“Bang.”
BAAANG!!!
With a thunderous report, the muzzle belched flame. The hammer struck the round in the cylinder hard, and the thick lead bullet flew faster than the speed of sound, smashing the head of the believer in front. Not content with that, it shattered the skull of the man behind him as well.
“Huh?”
Splatter!
Blood, flesh, brain matter, and bone fragments fell to the ground. The lifeless corpse sagged like a doll, and Ian, now back to a deadpan expression, cocked the revolver’s hammer.
“Your location here, and the abandoned café nearby. Spill everything.”
Humm.
The grimoire trapped in Ian’s grasp vibrated briefly and turned its pages. The bodies of two believers who had blankly stared at part of that page melted into sludge and flowed onto the floor. There were no screams, no pain. Their bodies simply vanished, as if it were just a phenomenon.
“A, aah……!”
Seeing that, the woman who had first ordered Ian to be killed collapsed to the floor, her mouth and pupils trembling violently. She looked pitiful, but he paid it no mind and brought the still-hot muzzle to her forehead.
A sizzling sound of burning flesh came from it.
“Then I’ll put you out of your misery.”
“M, me crazy psychopath……!”
Ian answered in a serious voice to the words the woman had instinctively blurted out.
“I’m not a psychopath. I’m a mage.”
The woman wet herself, thinking that maybe those two words meant the same thing.
Drip, drip.