97 Wizard and Wizard

There is a common misconception among people who know nothing about magic.

That is, the misconception that wizards' battles would be dazzling and spectacular. The moment they witness one, such fantasies are instantly knocked from expectation down into the basement called daydreams.

Why is that?

There was no need to think too hard about it. In fact, wizard battles are neither flashy nor beautiful. If anything, they're closer to back-alley killers trading blows.

Wizards are, by nature, highly rational. Their emotions don't shift all that much, and they need flexible thinking to handle a variety of situations. Wizards who couldn't do that all died. Other wizards wouldn't leave them alone, and the Mysteries attached to them were just as relentless, so it was only natural.

The bodies that used the mysterious power called magic also seemed very attractive to the aberrations. These days, few wizards have their bodies or souls taken from them, but in the past it was more common than one might expect. Wizards without an overgrown sense of self made very good prey.

Thanks to that, the wizards left today were all the type to live for their own superiority—narcissists with egos so bloated they rivaled Everest.

Ian wasn't much different. He wasn't arrogant, but he wasn't humble either; he wasn't cruel, but he wasn't merciful either. So he couldn't find any reason to let go of, or spare, a loser who had challenged him and then tucked his tail between his legs and run.

No, he didn't look for one. The moment he first met Eddie's eyes, he decided to kill him. Eddie would be the same way. There was no need to agonize over morality.

‘Information is something you learn after killing them.’

He thinks this as he walks, following the compass.

‘A vessel that holds the soul. If I complete it and wring his brain out before putting it in, interrogation should be easy enough.’

Ian still didn't know Eddie's name, or who he really was.

Both were important, of course. But there was no need to rush. Killing him would solve everything.

“Hoo…….”

A dark alley. Dawn had yet to break.

With a cigarette between his lips, Ian checked the contents of his bag once over.

Fortunately, nothing had been left out. The kitchen knife was still in its place, and the flesh of a weird being for emergency use had been stored in cube form. The blood-red rod that had recreated a Buddha statue was also still there.

But opening and closing the bag every time he needed something was a hassle. So Ian hid the kitchen knife at the beltline under his coat, slipped the ring case containing the dying eyeball into his pocket, and shoved the rod against his side to use as a club in an emergency.

Clack.

He took the pistol from the gun holster and checked the remaining rounds.

Three rounds total. He hadn't reloaded since the Monkey Hand incident; nothing could be done about that. He puffed out a stream of cigarette smoke, changed the magazine, and set the selector to single-shot.

‘That wizard probably doesn't have a gun. If he did, he'd have opened fire right away.’

Maybe he hadn't brought one, but it was absurd for someone who came to ambush him not to bring a gun.

This wasn't about looking down on the other side; it was just a matter of intelligence. No matter how much of an idiot he thought the opponent was, a sane person would at least bring one guaranteed way to kill the target.

Of course, a gun wasn't some amazing thing, but it was still deadly. Without proper means of defense, even the greatest wizard would have his life cut off on the spot. Even a Muggle's twenty-round Avada Kedavra barrage wasn't a joke.

If there were a way to respond, the story would be different, but the only defensive measure Ian had right now was a reverse sight. That too was closer to a warning than actual defense, so if Eddie blatantly opened fire, Ian would have been a corpse before he could do anything.

‘At the very least, it's safe to assume he doesn't have a gun. Still, just in case, I should make minimal preparations.’

Ian took off the coat he was wearing, laid it on the ground, and drew a magic circle on the inside with a vial of his own blood.

The defensive spell he had first used at the hospital. He cast the spell again so that, if an impact came in, the coat would turn to water and absorb and disperse the force.

There was no need to take out the grimoire. It was essential for the grimoire's signature magic—recreation magic, alchemy, and summoning—but other ordinary spells could now be used on their own.

It was, in its own way, impressive growth. Ian nodded in satisfaction, brushed the dust off his coat, and put it back on.

He continued walking, following the compass.

After a short while, Ian arrived in front of a hotel.

He had never gone inside himself, but it was a famous hotel anyone would recognize just by hearing its name.

‘So he was staying at the hotel he'd been told about back then.’

Ian gave a small snort, tucked the compass into his pocket for the moment, and went into the hotel.

Perhaps because it was dawn, or perhaps because they had stepped away for a moment, there were no staff seated at the hotel desk. Only a few guests out for a stroll were standing in the lobby.

For Ian, that was a welcome sight. He carefully made his way to the hotel elevator, avoiding everyone's gaze. Then, taking out the blood-scented compass again, he muttered.

“Which floor?”

In response to his question, the compass needle spun eleven times.

That meant the eleventh floor. Ian put the compass away, lit a cigarette between his lips, and pressed the button for the eleventh floor.

“…….”

The CCTV camera mounted in the elevator was annoying, but he didn't bother dealing with it right now. Instead, he sent a message to the Administration Bureau.

[Me: I'm sending the address. Handle whatever happens here yourself.]

*

“Uwaaagh!”

Eddie, who had escaped through the Boogeyman, crawled out from under the bed and vomited up the contents of his stomach.

A stabbing pain as if his entire gut had been turned inside out. It was the typical side effect of the Boogeyman. Being able to move to a preset hiding place like under a bed or inside a closet was nice, but enduring the excruciating pain of feeling like his stomach was being ripped apart every time he used it was no easy ordeal.

Still, this was better than trying to force his way through the fight. Eddie lay face-down on the floor for a long while, catching his breath, then planted his hand on the floor and slowly pushed himself up.

‘.....I've found the bastard's place, but he doesn't know where I am. So I just need to prepare as thoroughly as possible and attack again.’

An imbalance in information was always a good weapon. There was no need to rush headlong and trap himself unnecessarily. Thinking that, Eddie began selecting the tool-type Mysteries he had brought and laid out in the corner of the room.

There was no reason not to use the dagger tainted with a vampire's curse.

A blade that manipulates blood vessels so that he can never stop the bleeding. If he wanted to drag this into a prolonged fight, he absolutely had to use it. It did have the drawback that the third strike would always stab its owner, but as long as he never let it reach three, that was fine.

He'd also brought a Swallowing Cube, Multiplying Tadpoles, Kunekune, and more. He had gathered a wide variety of Mysteries that manipulated not only the body but the mind as well. Without distinguishing between them, Eddie equipped the selected Mysteries in a pile and let out a long breath.

“……Hoo.”

He drank unrefined elf blood. A method of forcibly raising one's affinity with Mysteries. At the cost of temporarily losing part of his vision, his hearing would sharpen instead, so it was no problem.

Eddie wiped the green blood from the corner of his mouth and brushed around his eyes with his hand.

The pupils grew slightly hazy, and at the same time his vision turned blurred. It felt like nearsightedness, astigmatism, and farsightedness had all hit him at once. It was practically no different from going blind. He could make out the overall outline, but not the exact shape.

It didn't matter. Eddie put on the sunglasses he'd taken off and sat on the sofa, catching his breath until he recovered from the Boogeyman's side effects.

The sofa was directly in line with the front door. With the floor-to-ceiling window behind him, he leaned his head back.

At that moment.

Thud-thud.

A bullet that flew in silence pierced the front door and buried itself in his stomach and thigh.

“……!”

Eddie's face twisted violently at the sudden gunfire. He hurriedly got to his feet, with pain and blood surging through him, and glared at the front door.

A clearly visible bullet hole. Through it, someone's pitch-black eye briefly appeared, then was crushed flat. At the same time, Eddie's own eye was crushed as well.

“Kraaaah!”

Agony raced along his optic nerves and seared his brain. A scream of pain spilled from his mouth, and blood dripped like tears from the place where his eyeballs had been.

That meant the eyeballs had done their job. Ian immediately smashed the doorknob and entered the room.

In his hands were a lighter and a pistol. The lighter's flame greedily devoured the sound around him, and Ian shoved the muzzle into the soundless zone.

Eddie couldn't hear that sound, but the chill racing up the back of his head made him grit his teeth and pull the horn he'd tucked into his pocket back out. Then he bit down and shattered it.

A Mystery that, when destroyed, summons a man-eating elephant with a tremendous roar.

But even though the horn had been destroyed, it made no sound at all. It simply fell to the floor.

‘A spell that even devours the sounds of others?’

Only then did Eddie realize Ian's magic. But it was already too late.

Click-click.

Ian pulled the trigger twice more. One of the bullets pierced his shoulder, and he barely managed to block the other.

A spiderweb spread open. The spiderweb forged from ghost stories and faith, said to be harder than steel, became the finest bulletproof vest imaginable. But his body, already taking three bullets, could no longer obey him and creaked horribly.

“What a pathetic sight.”

Seeing that, Ian snuffed out the lighter.

“Well, I didn't expect much.”

“……You fucking bastard……!”

Ian gave a small laugh and pulled the trigger again. Eddie activated the Chekhov's gun hanging on the wall at the exact moment.

With a bang, all the guns in the room were rendered useless. The misfired bullet exploded inside the barrel, shredding Ian's hand.

Terrible pain raced along his fingers and into his brain. It wasn't a huge blow, but some of the skin had still been torn away and scorched.

More irritating than the pain was the fact that he could no longer use the gun. Ian clicked his tongue, casually tossed aside the hunk of scrap metal in his hand, and took out the kitchen knife fixed at his waist, throwing it.

Swoosh!

The flying kitchen knife sliced through the wind. Relying on that sensation, Eddie rolled across the floor to dodge the attack, then screamed and charged at Ian. Blood-red frogs crawled up at his feet.

“You are a child of man.”

Ian took a step back and extended his hand. Then, as if a divine revelation had descended, the hand of recreation summoned from the ceiling settled into his grasp.

“Why do you wish to become evil? Do you mean to achieve what you seek as a demon?”

“Kraaaah!”

“Futile. I shall personally remake everything you are by God's will.”

Ian knocked away the frogs charging at him with the grimoire and rammed his shoulder into Eddie's body. With a thud, both of them toppled backward at the same time.

As Eddie's already twisted innards took another blow, he couldn't hold it in and vomited. Ian calmly, still lying there, recited his final spell.

“Be reborn.”

Crack-crack-crack!

The body of Eddie, having come into contact with Ian's flesh, began to contract inward. His limbs were crushed and folded toward his abdomen, and his waist snapped in two, crawling toward the area near his heart.

Blood splattered. Bones crushed. Muscles mashed.

A horrifying sound filled the hotel room. Holding the grimoire in one hand, Ian picked up a cigarette that had fallen to the floor, put it in his mouth, and stared at him.

“…….”

Before long, all of Eddie's body except his upper half had vanished.

He didn't even have any limbs. As if he'd been born that way from the start, there was nothing left below his chest.

“Ah.”

Realizing the state of his own body, Eddie let out a groan of despair.

Ignoring him, Ian kicked Eddie's body aside, lit his cigarette, and took a drag.

“Aaaagh!”

Whether because of the terrible pain or his ruined body, he writhed like an insect while screaming. Ian watched him quietly for a moment, then crushed the frogs underfoot and took out the kitchen knife.

He let it fall onto Eddie's body. The kitchen knife plummeted straight down and pierced his chest with perfect accuracy.

That was the end. Eddie could no longer scream or struggle and died on the spot.

Only then did Ian let out a long breath and sit on the sofa, exhaling cigarette smoke.

The sun was rising outside the window. Ian quietly stared at the dawn light, then looked down at Eddie's corpse lying on the floor.

‘They said a wizard's body is good material for magic. Might as well test that out this time.’

If I'd known it would come to this, I should have just left the eye alone.