The air was heavy, oppressive, the world outside the window smothered in haze.
This was London, home to the Mage's Association's Clock Tower. Though the city had shed its "Foggy London" reputation decades ago, the peculiar terrain still trapped clouds of exhaust and industrial fumes.
Of course, the white-collar workers making their living here weren't about to abandon a metropolis bursting with opportunity just because of a little smog. And the magi of the Clock Tower certainly wouldn't forsake a city so rich in magical development simply for the sake of cleaner air.
But—
"Is it time to leave, then?" Standing at the dim window, a young man with tousled dark-red hair, dressed in a snow-white tailored suit, murmured softly, his words tinged with something unspoken.
On the old wooden desk beside him lay yellowed stationery. In the flickering candlelight, its words were stark: "The Yggdmillennia Clan declares war on the Mage's Association."
And so, though this young man was but a shut-in magus of little consequence, because he belonged to the Yggdmillennia branch family, the Frain line, he no longer had any excuse to remain in the Clock Tower.
—Assuming, of course, he could even escape the hounds of the Department of Law that had already closed in.
Rhodes Frain Yggdmillennia. He bore that name, that family crest. Yet from childhood he'd been little more than a hostage, sent to the Clock Tower, the Association's supreme academy. His pitifully few Magic Circuits stripped him of his status as heir, robbed him of the family fortune, and left him unable even to guarantee his own survival.
And yet Rhodes harbored no resentment. From the moment he drew breath in this world, he was already different.
Because the one inhabiting "Rhodes" was no ignorant infant—he was an ancient monster who had already endured centuries beyond count.
A Lich.
Yes, this was his second transmigration. Ages ago, he had been just another face in the crowd, living in a modern world devoid of magic or supernatural science. That brief, rare peace ended when he awoke in another world, one overflowing with Arcane Magic.
Faerûn. A land famed across countless tabletop games—Baldur's Gate, Neverwinter Nights, Icewind Dale—but he had not arrived in the years of adventure those games depicted. No, he came in a darker age: the empire of Netheril.
There, he became known as Ioulaum, mentor to uncounted arcanists, guiding the mighty magocracy in conquest and glory—until the calamity of the Phaerimm arrived.
When Netheril shattered, he turned himself into a Elder Brain Lich before his lifespan expired, spending countless centuries in a lightless underworld filled with silence, solitude… and more than a few dark elf women with dangerously narrow waists.
Until today.
Now he had come to this world—the world of Type-Moon! Not the core FSN timeline, but a parallel one brimming with Magecraft, with knowledge vast as oceans, with the Swirl of the Root itself… and with countless young women's bodies ripe for indulgence.
Besides, after suffering through those subterranean centuries, he had long outgrown petty amusements. He had embraced a new path: that of the Pleasure-Seeker.
And at this very moment, the sweetest prey was about to step into his trap.
Boom! Boom! Boom!—thunderous pounding rattled the door of his workshop. Rhodes shrugged and called out lazily.
"What is it? Didn't I say no interruptions when I'm conducting experiments?"
"Tch… are you fiddling with magnetic induction lines again?" The voice outside was full of disdain, yet its light, melodic tone was impossible to dislike.
"Hardly. I've made more than enough Pleasure Golems—why would I need to get my own hands dirty?" Rhodes grimaced at the familiar voice. "Well? If it's just petty thieves, deal with them yourself, RyuZU."
"Oh? In your eyes even Sealing Designation Enforcers are petty thieves? If that's the case, I'll dispose of them right away." The girl named RyuZU spoke sweetly, though her words dripped venom. "By the way, are your inflatable girlfriends—your Pleasure Golems—really that sturdy? A shame I broke several last night…"
"Tch… so you were the culprit." Rhodes scowled, recalling the pile of mutilated Pleasure Golems. His voice hardened. "Do as you like. Whether they're Sealing Designation Enforcers, lords of the Department of Creation, or even Lord El-Melloi II himself—kill them, slice them, just get rid of them."
"As you wish, Master." Her airy tone was as lovely as ever, yet laced with a cruel undertone.
He listened to her light footsteps skipping away, his eyes narrowing in thought. In the wavering candlelight at his side, a disemboweled werewolf twitched feebly, blood slicking the floor.
Minutes later, several figures strode into the flower-strewn courtyard before the workshop. At their head was a blonde magus in a red coat, his face twisted with malice.
Just as he opened his mouth, a lilting voice called from behind them.
"Cornelius Alba, I presume? My apologies, Master is busy with an experiment and won't be receiving guests."
The speaker was a delicate girl, perhaps one-sixty centimeters tall, yet her proud gaze seemed to look down upon them all.
"Oh? One of Rhodes' Pleasure Golems? That one's mine," muttered a spiky-haired magus, moving toward her—only for Alba to hold him back.
"At least wait until Rhodes is dead before we divide the spoils," Alba said smoothly, raising his hand. He leveled it at the innocent-looking girl, his deep chant rumbling through the old courtyard. Clearly, he had no intention of dignifying a golem with conversation.
"Go away the shadow…"
"Striking a lady, how very ungentlemanly of you." The pure girl smiled brightly. "I am RyuZU, Master's first and only self-regulating automaton."
"Gah!"
Alba's scream tore through the air. His raised arm had been severed clean at the shoulder, scarlet blood pouring in sheets.
"My, my… soiling the soil. Well, I suppose the flowers could use some fertilizer." RyuZU beamed with innocent cheer, her sweet voice hiding no trace of cruelty.
Slice, slice, slice— faint sounds rippled through the courtyard. In an instant, the Enforcers were nothing but shredded gore.
"What did you do!" Alba shrieked, Runes flaring desperately to defend him, yet fear flickered in his eyes.
"Nothing much…" RyuZU said softly. Then, her skirt lifted ever so slightly, and from beneath it emerged two great treasures—two long, curved, jet-black scythes.
"I merely sliced apart time itself."
Her declaration rang out, and Alba's head slipped from his neck, tumbling in stunned silence.
Blood spattered the earth.
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P.S.: "RyuZU" comes from Clockwork Planet. Her ability is imaginary time. And yes—the protagonist is a total automaton fanatic.