Chapter 290 – Carnival…? (3)
Artificially kindled flames spread on the wind.
Here and there, explosions erupted from oil drums hidden in some of the buildings, and the dry, old structures had no resistance to fire.
A blazing winter night.
The fierce heat drove back the cold, but no one could welcome it—
not even the poor beggars who had been trembling inside their shacks.
Craaaack—
"Th-the building's collapsing! Get out of the way!"
"Argh! Help me!! My leg, my leeeeg!!"
The building sank down, scattering debris in all directions.
A charred wooden pillar crushed the lower half of a middle-aged man's body, and the erratic sparks seared his skin.
"Fatherrrrr! Motherrrrr!"
A child cried in the middle of the street.
Desperately, he searched for his parents, but the neighbors had no room to help. Disaster spared neither adults nor children.
All they could do was flee.
But not everyone was like that.
It was Padreld, the smuggler.
He grabbed the child's wrist and shouted:
"The wind's blowing east! Get people evacuated to the west immediately! Don't block the way! And Frankie, you—"
"Don't give me orders! I'll handle it myself!"
Frankie drove his leg upward with a violent kick.
Craaaash! A half-burnt pillar shattered, and he pulled out the trapped man, supporting him by the arm.
And he wasn't the only one saving the poor.
"Ghhhk, damn this is heavy…! If there's a mage around, somebody use Telekinesis to lift this!"
"Shit, this one's badly burned! A priest! Isn't there a priest?!"
"Treatment later, get him outside first!"
All the gangs of the back alleys joined in the effort.
Though they usually kept each other in check, this time they acted as one.
Not because of Verden's command, but because—whatever else—
they were residents of the Midros Territory.
From above, Rebecca shouted:
"Hey! If you don't want to get swept away, move!"
She swung her hand.
Her mana circuits pulsed.
Triple Casting.
Rolling waves crashed down, drenching the buildings.
That made the third street where she had extinguished the blaze. Thanks to her, casualties were momentarily halted.
She was growing weary, but her magic power remained. Rebecca steadied her breathing and focused again on magical computation.
Adventurers, mercenaries, priests, and soldiers belatedly joined the effort.
Among them were lower-ranking mages, rushing out from the branches of two magic towers after hearing the commotion.
Mere manpower in the eyes of the tower.
"What the hell…? Stop it before it spreads further!"
But a mage was still a mage.
They had learned much, and their magical capacity was high.
Even if they couldn't use water magic, they could manipulate wind, raise counter-fires, or collapse structures to block the flames. Their contribution was immense.
Through such desperate efforts, the great fire began to die down. Frankie glanced to the side after rescuing several people.
Inside a collapsed building, corpses had burned to death.
Adults. Children.
A family who had been sleeping struck by calamity. Their faces were unrecognizable from the charring, but he knew who they were.
Frankie had been born in this slum.
"F***…"
Suddenly, the stench of burning flesh assaulted his nose.
So revolting, so nauseating, he couldn't hold it back.
"Who the hell—WHO THE HELL DID THIS?!"
The street where he had grown up was now ash.
The neighbors he had known were roasted into grotesque remains.
Whoever was responsible, he wanted to beat them to death. And though unspoken, everyone around felt the same.
And at that very moment—
Ethan was pursuing one of the culprits.
***
A Magus improves upon Mado, creating magic that had never existed before.
Still, with talent, knowledge, and effort, even an ordinary mage could inherit such techniques. That was how magic in this world had evolved.
Ethan was one such beneficiary.
From his master, he had learned a method of mana manipulation.
Unlike his peer Rebecca, his belonged to the Imbuement system, drastically heightening magical perception to sense the remnants of mana.
Only one part of the body could be developed for this sense. By the nature of magic, it could never be changed afterward.
Ethan had chosen his right hand.
His touch brushed the air, trailing mana.
With his ability, he could detect traces of magic up to five hours old, but he could not track any mage of 5th tier or higher.
That was the limit of his power.
Fortunately, the opponent this time was a mage—apparently under 4th tier.
The faint traces of another's mana resonated with Ethan's own, tickling his senses.
Found you.
He moved swiftly along the invisible thread.
Leaping between buildings, crossing alleys—the trail was caught, and it was only a matter of time.
Soon, atop a rooftop, Ethan spotted the figure.
"Excellent, splendid…! Just as Devoni said, this method works best, yes indeed!"
A man running through the dark, deserted streets.
'That…'
Ridiculous clown makeup.
Exaggerated gestures and expressions. A crazed voice amidst the massacre in the slums.
Ethan knew instantly.
'Aldamia's Clowns?'
A deranged group devoid of humanity.
They had already massacred multiple villages, planned and executed large-scale terror in cities and towns.
The death toll so far numbered in the hundreds.
They were once listed for national subjugation.
And after relentless pursuit, over a dozen members had been executed on the spot.
But the leader and a few close aides escaped, vanishing for two years.
And now, here of all places.
'So… is the Bohemirn Magic Tower really involved?'
He couldn't quite believe it.
He understood the arrogance and tyranny of the tower, but to hire lunatics like these? That seemed unlikely—especially for one of the high-ranking towers.
'Think later.'
Whatever the case, they had to be caught.
Yet he hesitated.
Aldamia's Clowns always moved as a group.
Their infamy spread across the continent as an organization, not individuals.
So where were the others besides that short clown?
Would it be wise to subdue this one recklessly? What if the rest were preparing another act of terror elsewhere?
Following him and wiping them all out at once might be the right move.
His thoughts deepened.
Then, he felt an overwhelming presence from above.
"…?"
He looked up—a being shrouded in a violet veil was hurtling toward him.
Hoisting the entire ground that restrained a fat clown.
"Asher?"
Shooooom!
Verden streaked past the building where Ethan stood.
Countdown to impact with the earth.
And in his path was the clown, Mashi.
"The Carnival in the north should be starting soon, heh—huh?"
Some unease made Mashi glance back.
He squinted upward. Something was rushing from a diagonal angle.
"A person?"
He registered the figure.
But it was already too late to dodge.
BOOOOOOM!
The avenue was pulverized by the shockwave.
Windows shattered, cracks split building walls. Mashi, caught nearby, was blown away in the blast.
Thud. Crash. Bang.
Mashi's body skipped across the ground like a stone skimming water, striking the earth again and again before finally coming to a halt.
His fingers were broken, his right leg twisted the wrong way, and his whole body trembled violently.
"Ghh… ugh…"
His appearance was like someone struck head-on by a runaway carriage.
And yet, somehow, his life was not in danger.
Just like with Devoni, the ground itself writhed and bound Mashi firmly. With that, the arsonists had all been secured.
Ethan approached.
"How did you…? More importantly, where did you catch that clown? And the Lord of the Territory…?"
"The Lord got away. I caught the clown on the way here. Keep him secured so we don't lose him—I need to concentrate for a moment."
The lord's manor had been reduced to ruins.
But the perpetrators and their accomplices had been captured.
With no more variables threatening the territory, only one task remained:
Extinguishing the fire.
Leaving it unchecked would be unacceptable—for many reasons. And he didn't intend to stand by.
So I'll put it out.
Leaving the clowns in Ethan's hands, Verden clasped Orient in both hands.
With eyes watching, he would not use his Mystic Eye.
That was his hidden trump card, his strongest weapon.
He had no intention of letting even scraps of information about it leak to the Society.
Well… the same would go for any organization.
He steadied his breathing.
The 6th tier—what the world called the realm of a prodigy, a Genius among mages.
That destructive power could overturn entire districts, and no army, no matter how vast, could withstand it.
If he wished, he could level a great city, paralyzing its function entirely.
And conversely, he could save a city as well.
He fully activated his mana circuits.
At once, the air currents churned violently.
Pure mana filled him to overflowing. Computation began, and after several dozen seconds, one spell was complete.
A 6th-tier concentrated spell.
The orb of Orient flickered.
In the next instant, the clouds filling the night sky lit up blue—then dulled back into heavy gray.
A still wind blew.
It was not a failure.
Plip, plip.
Cold raindrops began to fall from the heavens.
"Rain…?"
Ethan, staring blankly upward, muttered to himself.
And then, a torrential downpour descended.
The sheets of rain lashed the eastern quarter of the territory, crushing the flames and washing them away.
Even the oil-fed fires were extinguished.
Ethan narrowed his eyes.
"No way… is this, is this a 6th-tier…?!"
His pupils quivered violently.
He had known Verden's level was extraordinary, but he had not imagined he had already surpassed the 5th tier so far.
Verden stowed Orient into subspace.
Having revealed his tier indirectly, he spoke in a low voice:
"Let's return."
The social calamity that had shaken the entire city—the Clowns' carnival—ended halfway through, brought to an abrupt close by a single Magus.
***
The disaster subsided, and recovery began.
Before long, the tragedy at the lord's manor would cause an uproar surpassing even the fire itself, but that no longer concerned them.
There was something more important.
"…So while the fire was raging, the branch leaders of the magic tower were assassinated, and the Lord of the Territory was kidnapped… is that right?"
"Exactly."
"Wow…"
Rebecca could not close her mouth.
Even hearing it in passing was shocking enough. For a moment, she forgot the discomfort she always felt around Verden.
The Society had given her access to a vast trove of information on the magic towers. Yet she had never imagined that the Bohemirn Magic Tower would hire outside forces to commit such an atrocity.
"A swordsman, though… Someone of that caliber, you'd expect to have heard of. Could he have come from the western continent?"
"Perhaps."
Balrog himself could teleport unaided.
At the very least, intercontinental teleportation circles existed.
It would cost money and time, but if one desired it, traversing even the vast distances between continents was hardly impossible.
Judging by their hiring of those so-called Aldamia's Clowns, it may just as well be an eastern continent figure.
But that was far from certain.
Speculating on origins was a waste of time. With only the traces of sword aura at the scene, identifying the culprit was impossible.
They needed concrete leads.
That was why they had kept the clowns alive.
Beneath the lord's manor lay an underground warehouse.
Down the stairway, two of Aldamia's Clowns were chained, hanging bloodied.
Beside them, catching his breath, Ethan greeted the others.
"Ah, you're here. Just finished interrogating them. Whew… It's something I pride myself on, but these lunatics were damn tough. If I hadn't dealt with their kind before, it would've gone badly."
"Want to wash up?"
"Yes, please."
Rebecca conjured water and splashed it over him.
The sticky blood and sweat washed away. Finishing a quick rinse, Ethan slicked his hair back.
"So—you learned their location?"
"I did, but honestly… it's vague."
He spread out a map of the territory.
Removing his bloodstained gloves, he pointed to the eastern forest.
"They say the one who assaulted the manor wore a metal mask."
Verden asked.
"Name?"
"They claim no one knows. But that man abducted the lord of the territory, intending to deliver him to the chapter master located here. And as for these two clowns, Devoni and Mashi, after finishing the terror attack, they were meant to regroup in a small village on the border between this territory and the allied city of Kailiens."
"…That's all?"
"That's all the location info."
It was indeed vague.
Even if they went to the place where the leader was supposedly waiting, pursuing further would not be easy. And they couldn't simply loiter around the border village either.
"Oh, and aside from that, they did investigate the tower's hostile forces while coming down from the northwest. Likely to prepare in case they couldn't extract the information from the lord of the territory. But apparently, they got nothing worthwhile."
"Could that be a lie?"
"No. Extracting information is my specialty. My master taught me well."
"…True enough."
Rebecca nodded, reinforcing the point.
Verden quietly sorted through his thoughts.
He arranged the information gathered since arriving in the territory:
The tower's hostile forces are located east or south of the territory.
The massacre in the sewers was perpetrated by the tower's enemies.
Black tobacco was found in the sewers, likely owned by someone from the central continent.
One of the hostile leaders is Kendras.
Kendras's group hails from the central continent.
…
And suddenly, he found a thread.
If his hunch was right, he could pinpoint the location of the hostile forces in one strike.
Even if not, it was worth trying.
"Rebecca."
"Y-yes? What is it?"
"Go summon Padreld and Tif."
The back-alley factions of the territory.
They needed information on smuggled goods.
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