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Chapter 57
🕑 Added 2025-08-21 10:28:31 +0000 UTCA/N: Sorry about yesterday, I had a slight fever.
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As I made my way through the forest at an, admittedly, casual pace for the current state of conflict, I began to notice irregularities. The way the trees swayed, the dry branches that seemed to coil and dance just out of sight, even the shadows that were at times too long or too orderly for a place like this.
It was unnatural, not in the way that there was something out of place, unnatural in that everything was a little too in place, too meticulous in arrangement.
"Byron Iselma... Iselma... Wait, I remember. It's Byron Valualeta Iselma. He's one of Inorai's people."
A Lord from the Valuay. The Department of Creation.
With that realisation, it clicked. Those people prided themselves artists, focusing on that which could move the hearts of the masses at any given time, valuing that which stood the test of time. Subjects like beauty and whatnot. It was only natural for one among them to be needlessly meticulous and perfectionist, with even his own home.
To an outsider like myself, pursuing art so vehemently seemed a little 'strange' for magi. But, the study had its roots in sound logic. In this day and age, no, in any day and age, belief and faith were the greatest stabilising factor in regards to mystery, to be able to manipulate that was certainly a worthwhile pursuit for people like them.
Ah well. I was only really concerned with getting to see whatever magecraft that Lord possessed.
It didn't take long to find my target.
Byron Valualeta Iselma. He stood regally in a small clearing within the forest, both hands resting atop a dark wooden cane. His age had to be up there, definitely, but that only added to his grace, his dark hair was neatly combed to the back, and the sides were white from age, his pencil moustache was peppered with strands of grey too.
And, yeah, with a red suit that seemed to scream noble and old money, I had to admit he looked pretty cool even if his clothes were marked with burns.
He regarded his assailants calmly, even though there had to be at least two dozen men there. They were raincoats, suited for the weather, and gasmasks for some odd reason. Still, I couldn't say anything. Compared to my hand-sewn wool sweater and jeans, those guys looked awesome too.
But, my sweater was made by my mother. So they could suck on that. They were magi, their mothers probably never even gave them the time of day. Hmph.
"So, you're the one that entered my territory?" Lord Byron glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. "I admit, I thought Lord Valualeta was intent on leaving me with these insolent dogs."
He recognised me. Well, it wasn't that unreasonable. I was getting a reputation because of the Cause promotion, and if he was aligned with the democrats, he was definitely aware of me. It was still kind of creepy to realise though.
I tilted my head. "You noticed me?"
"I notice all within my land. Your aid is welcome."
Surprisingly, those men in raincoats said nothing as I stepped up to him. They just watched, exchanging glances I couldn't understand because of the masks.
"I'm not here on Inorai's behalf though. The Professor sent me."
"Professor... Lord El-Melloi?"
"Lord El-Melloi II." I corrected, stretching my arms. "Dunno why but he gets pressed about that. So yeah, you understand you owe him a favour if I can beat them right?"
"Even if it is you... with these numbers..." He said, hesitant.
I understood what he meant. In this day and age, where a gunshot was fatal for most magi, numbers were indeed an issue. I'd always thought that was because magi pursued Mystery as an educational field rather than anything else.
"But, very well. That girl is a murderer but I will owe your teacher what he demands if we can triumph."
One of the masked men put a hand to his ear, then pointed a finger at me. There was a heavy accent to his voice, not European no,... middle eastern?
"Don't interfere. You're not a part of this, and our Lord has made an arrangement with your master."
My... what?
"You talked to the Professor?"
"No, the Lord of Valuay. Your true master. Be a good dog, and back off."
...
I watched him, shocked by the sheer audacity you'd need to call someone another person's dog. It was truly awe-inspiring, the egos on some of these folks were almost as inflated as mine was. They did a much worse job at keeping them in check though.
Grinning, I took a step forward.
"Not one more step."
I took one more step.
"Fine, then it's on you now. We're going through him!"
They moved as a single unit, chaining together a spell.
"You know, I'd test out Limitless on you but... nah. You're just not worth the mana."
Suddenly, the air reeked of ozone. Then, a loud crackle. A blast of thunder. Enough force to tear a reinforced man apart and then take everything behind him too. Unfortunately, lightning manipulation was one of my fortes, and about the oldest magecraft in my arsenal.
I swiped my hand and caught their lightning through the air. It faded into smoke against my palm, which I then proceeded to wipe away on my sweater.
"That was it?" I tilted my head before giving Byron a look. "This is what you were losing to? Shame on you."
He averted his gaze. "My magecraft isn't geared towards-..."
"That sounds like cope."
The masked men attacked again, so I wasn't able to continue grilling the older man.
"You gave me one so... that was your only warning."
It made me happy when they ignored that warning instead of being reasonable as I'd come to expect from the foes I faced in this world. They did the cliche thing and attacked me again, with a stronger variation of the same spell.
"Come on, Byron. We're done here."
I flicked my wrist and tossed it right back. Without looking at what became of them, I turned around to leave. The dark clouds overhead roared, and thunder came barrelling down from angry skies. It was faster than my body could react, of course, but not faster than my mind.
Infinity came spilling out. The lightning phased out of existence the second it neared me. The flash was mildly annoying though.
I faced them with a pleased smile.
"Hey now, good job~. That was actually an inconvenience. But, if that's all the passion you can muster, I'm afraid you're going to leave a lot of girls disappointed."
To my surprise, the same people were not the ones to greet me. No, they were lying on the ground, dead or passed out, no idea really. Instead, a young man stepped out of the shadows cast by the forest.
Unlike the blondes I'd encountered thus far in life, this one wasn't as nice. He was a lot zestier.
Golden hair tied in a pony, brown skin, a white shirt with three buttons left to give a few of his 'chiseled' chest, suit pants. Wow. He was the whole starter pack. I thought those folk were a lot more secretive in this day and age. I wasn't one to judge. He was even twirling what looked to be a pair of balls-
Okay, they weren't balls, but a small pot. A Mystic Code.
"I see why she warned me of you." He said, stepping over his men. "Being a mere Cause doesn't do you justice."
...
"Oh? What's this? A fan?" I squirmed. "Kyaaa~. Do you want a selfie? An autograph? Since you're my first, I'll always remember you ~ b-but wait, I don't even know your name-"
Byron's features became grim. He spoke with a clenched fist, "Atrum Galliasta."
"Indeed, it is I. Atrum Galliasta."
That sounded stupid. His name was stupid.
"With a name that stupid, I can see why you'd take issue with the world. But first, talk with your parents. They deserve the brunt of it."
"There is nothing wrong with my name!" A bolt of lightning shot from the balls-... pot in his hand. Lightning that impotently struck my infinity before disappearing. He closed his eyes, and let out a small cough. "It's a cultural difference. Let us leave it at that."
"That's the sort of cultural difference that'd make me never step out of my room."
His brow twitched. Byron spoke before he could, "Are you here for revenge?"
"Something as paltry is beneath me. No, I came to retrieve what is due, what you stole from right out under me. That relic, hand it over, or I will destroy you completely. Your Lord has already abandoned you."
I let the two former lovers argue, soaking the context from their conversation. Obviously, they knew each other. Byron had acquired some relic that Atrum was close to getting. Where from? Well, that became clear the next second.
"I outbid you fairly. Do not throw a childish tantrum although I do not expect any better from your upstart house."
So, an auction then. Hm, right, I recalled that magi used to have auctions for things of value like the normal folk, just that the items exchanged within them were definitely of magical significance, items like talismans, remnants of heroes, generally things that had a great degree of mystery to them.
Trigger happy as they were, it also stood to reason that they would attack each other over those same items.
"That is why I come to take it in accordance with the principles of my family." He raised his left hand with a sickening grin. "Take what you want, through force."
I held up a hand too, but more like a student in a classroom. "What if someone does that to you?"
"They are free to, if they can. I will simply take it back after licking my wounds-"
The next moment, he got launched through the trees courtesy of a spartan kick to the chest from yours truly. I even stole his balls-... his pot and held it up to my eyes, lowering my aviators ever so slightly. After all, this wasn't the kind of place to be casually flaunting my eyes after what Luviagelita told me.
I parsed the mechanism instantly. It was a simply straightforward one. A little too straightforward, in my opinion.
"Say, Byron..." I stared at the visibly surprised magus. "How old is this family?"
He recollected himself with a start, "Not very old at all. Their rise is only recent. However, their wealth comes from oil, so they have few competitors in that regard."
That explained it.
After all, the 'pot' just held the mystery of a redundant and failed method of electricity storage in a by-gone age. That transformed any magical energy passed through it into electricity. The most basic mechanism I'd ever come across in my life. The only interesting thing about it was that he'd attuned it to react finely to his own mana, allowing a greater manipulation of the produced lightning.
That said, the make was fairly recent. The mystery that made it function was a poor imitation of a battery's workings mixed with a lightning rod's.
It was exciting to study for me, but there was nothing to write home about.
"He really thinks he's hot shit with this toddler magecraft."
I looked at the sky. His ritual for weather-controlling had already begun falling apart now that the men who were maintaining it lay incapacitated at my feet. That ritual too needed a total of thirty-two people to maintain. I stole it, and modified it to work only through me.
Then, I hijacked the active ritual entirely.
Mostly because it made for a cool background to my flexing.
"Alright, you can head back, Byron. I'll clean things up and then we'll have a nice talk."
"I'll have the servants prepare a room."
"A milkshake and some pancakes too, please."
The older magus nodded and left. I heard his cane thudding against the forest floor long after he disappeared into the shadows. Soon after, with timing that was awfully convenient, Atrum shuffled out of the forest, clutching his guts as he leaned against a tree, breathing ragged.
"You! Hand it back or else-!"
I tossed it at his feet. "There you go. But, you're not doing shit."
"I... can see that." He scowled, "But I am not so idiotic as to not account for your abilities."
"Well, you're certainly proving otherwise right now."
"As I said, Lord Valualeta has endorsed this. Let's talk... to her."
His minions before, and now him, why was everyone of the thought that I even cared about what that old bag of bones wanted? It wasn't as if I'd really aligned myself with her. I merely considered the merits of doing such a thing.
But well, Clock Tower politics may have misconstrued the proximity for that. Or maybe people assumed that it was just the most reasonable thing for a New Ager like myself to do. Unfortunately, 'reasonable' was a word that just wasn't in my dictionary most of the time.
"I'd rather just beat your ass."
"...What does that get you? What have I done to you? In fact, you are the one who has stained my dignity. A stain I have no intention of forgiving." Though he said that, he showed no intentions of actually doing something about it. "But, we can settle that later. What I am here for takes precedence."
I narrowed my eyes. "And what would that be?"
"Now that violence is no longer an option... I must resort to diplomacy with you. As an equal. You have overpowered me. And that is the reward you deserve for such a grand feat."
"Really going in with the pride thing there." I snorted.
He ignored me, and continued. "I desire the leaf that fell on Siegfried the Dragonslayer when he bathed in the blood of Fafnir. That is what Byron outbid me for. I want my relic back. "
"...Why?"
"For the Holy Grail War."
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Hope you enjoyed.
Please comment your thoughts, ideas and suggestions. They keep motivated and writing. If you have any confusion, please ask. I hope this chapter has established why they're under attack. The reason Reines and Waver are here should be clarified soon too. The whole 'murder' thing, I mean.
Comments
Bleap
Wink wink.
Bleap
For sure, not even counting the magic circuits, his eyes should allow for something like that easily.
Dragon Cross
You know with the amount of Magic Circuits he has he probably could summon more then one heroic spirits
Dragon Cross
Hmm I wonder what servants is he going summon
