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[158] Marsha Clay (1)
The instant Amy's shout rang out, Tess's fine blade stabbed Palcoa in the heart. A heartbeat later, Rian's eyes flew wide and blood burst from his mouth.
There was no mistake in Tess's swordsmanship. The sabre had pierced Palcoa's heart exactly, and its function would soon cease.
Palcoa sensed death. He wasn't particularly afraid. He even thought death might be the drug in this world closest to pleasure.
"Marsha."
To their surprise, the last word out of Palcoa's mouth, standing on the threshold of death, was the captain's name. As if seeing his life flash before his eyes, the corners of his mouth lifted faintly.
'Take me to the battlefield.'
When Tess drew the blade out, Palcoa's body fell backward. With a thud he collapsed, and then Rian, unable to withstand the pain wracking his body, dropped to his knees.
"Rian! Are you okay?"
Amy hurried over. Rian forced a smile and glanced back at her.
"Hey, Amy. You cleared them all out?"
"Tell me—where and how are you hurt? Tess! No matter what, how could you stab through together like that?"
Amy snapped at Tess, sounding hurt. But Tess only flicked the blood off her blade. Then, all at once, she smiled and winked.
"Hehe, what are you saying? What do you take me for? I'm actually pretty good at spacing. What I stabbed was only Palcoa's torso. Rian's fine."
Amy stared at Tess, dumbfounded.
"Uh… Rian's chest is bleeding."
"Wh—what!"
Eyes going round, Tess looked Rian over. As Amy had said, a thin line of blood was steadily seeping out.
"Rian! Rian! Are you okay? Hey, get a hold of yourself!"
As Tess, her face gone pale, buzzed in his ear, Rian—who had blacked out for a moment—brushed her hand away irritably and pushed himself to his feet.
"Don't make a fuss. It just pricked in a little."
"I'm sorry, Rian. It's because I'm not skilled enough…"
"Don't say that. If it had been any shallower, Palcoa wouldn't have gone down. Then both of us would've been in danger. Your judgment was right."
"Sniff… but still…"
Rian meant it. No matter how much you worried for a friend's safety, deeper was better than lacking. Because of that, Tess had been able to muster her utmost focus.
"Upsy-daisy! A wound like this is nothing. Let's hurry. I'm worried about Sirone."
Even while they were fighting, strange sounds and explosions had echoed from inside the building. He was clearly fighting the captain. It had to be at least more dangerous than Palcoa's battle.
At that moment, the building's wall blew apart with a bang and Sirone flew out.
"Sirone!"
Right before slamming into the ground, Sirone cast Teleport and fell back ten meters. As the photonized state released and he took a landing stance, Sirone skidded, gouging the earth.
"Sirone, are you okay?"
"Don't come!"
Sirone shouted urgently. The always-composed Sirone was, unusually, agitated, and the others felt rooted to the spot as if nails were driven into their soles.
"It's not over yet. It's sound magic—if you come closer, it's dangerous."
Marsha's Sona could shift freely between targeted strikes and area-of-effect attacks. The three of them were clearly spent from battle; if they rushed in, they'd be swept up in a powerful sound spell.
"Not bad. To last this long against me is something."
Bending at the waist, Marsha stepped out of the building and approached with a smile. But her smile slid away the moment she came upon Palcoa's corpse.
Palcoa was dead.
He'd been a bit unhinged, sure, but among life's dregs they'd run wild together in high spirits. A good third of the Parrot name that shook the continent had been dyed with his blood.
'No regrets then, Palcoa.'
Marsha knew without looking. He was the kind of man who'd think dying at the end of a knife was far cooler than a heart attack from drug rot.
But the sentiment ended there.
That he'd gone down to mere students was unexpected, but considering the condition of a body five years into addiction, it wasn't exactly anomalous.
Marsha refocused on Sirone. She'd guessed as much when they broke through the first gate, and fighting him directly confirmed it: his combination of magic was impressively balanced.
Teleportation was high-level, and his core offense, Photon Cannon, had satisfying power.
Laser was perfect as a siege weapon, and although the defensive spell Light Burst had the drawback of requiring precise timing, it had the advantage of being convertible to offense as needed.
A balance tuned by a single mage through long trial and evolution.
What she liked most was that it was a set of spells no other mage could learn—magic unique to Sirone alone.
'The Unlocker's magic, huh. Interesting. I want it.'
While Marsha entertained that thought, Sirone was likewise analyzing the variables of being out on open ground.
Inside the building he'd taken countless penalties, so he wasn't particularly disadvantaged now. Above all, with no hostages at risk of harm, he could crank the power up freely.
"From here on, it's different. I will never forgive you."
"Hehe, Sirone, you're going to forgive me."
"On what basis? What you've done is beyond anything human."
"Well, the thing is… actually…"
Sticking out her tongue like a prankster, Marsha yelled,
"It was all a lie!"
Sirone and the others blinked at her, not understanding. Then Marsha shouted toward the building,
"Yuna! You can come out now!"
Amplified, her voice boomed out toward the sea.
A moment later, the door opened and a pretty girl walked out.
"No way— that girl's Yuna?"
"Yup, it's Yuna. As you can see, she's been staying here comfortably without a scratch. Well? Sirone? Cooled off yet?"
Sirone couldn't answer. Even with his keen insight, he couldn't begin to guess what Marsha was thinking.
"Oh my, you still don't get it? Big sister was just teasing little brother a bit—are you going to stay mad over that? Everything I said was a lie. So forgive me, okay?"
Yuna bowed her head toward Sirone and his friends.
"My sister did nothing wrong. In fact, Marsha-unni saved me."
Rian, frustrated, opened his mouth.
"What the hell is going on? Somebody answer for a dummy like me."
But Amy and Tess stayed silent.
It was blatant mockery. That much was clear. The question was motive. What intent lay behind Marsha's staging all this?
That was what Sirone was thinking, too.
It couldn't be written off as a mere prank. The Parrot mercenaries had been wiped out. Palcoa was dead. For all of that to be "a lie" was unthinkable.
"If that's really true… then send Yuna over here."
First things first, they had to rescue Gis's little sister. But Marsha shook her head, that same mischievous smile on her lips.
"Yuna, go back in. I'll send you to your brother later."
Yuna nodded and went back into the building.
Sirone's temper spiked. What exactly did Marsha intend to do with this situation?
He sensed no purpose or meaning. It looked like she just wanted to wreak havoc like a child.
"What is this? What do you even want?"
"Hehe, why so serious? Yuna's safe, right? Then it's fine, isn't it? Oh—did you want to personally escort her like some apostle of justice?"
"That's not it, but…"
"Now you get it, right? Big sister hasn't done anything wrong. You're the bad one, Sirone. You're the one who made me sick. So I'm never handing Yuna over to you."
Sirone stepped into the Spirit Zone. Like a blade aimed between the brows, Marsha's razor-keen offensive zone had already lined up on his glabella.
"Hmph! I won't fall for it now."
Sirone blustered, but inside he was nothing but confused. Marsha had stripped away any motive to fight. Yet she was still radiating an aggressive will to kill.
'Stay calm. She's directing hostility at me. That alone is reason enough to fight.'
If this was a tactic to deceive, he couldn't just sit there and take it. And with the hostage safe, once he engaged he wouldn't be driven back like inside the building.
But defying his expectations, Marsha released her Spirit Zone. Then, as if disarming, she spread her arms and said to Sirone,
"You can kill me."
Sirone's heart dropped. He knew exactly what those words meant.
It was the magic incantation she'd said she recited every time her foster father beat her.
Which meant Marsha was serious. She truly was asking him to kill her.
'What are you, Marsha? Just who are you?'
Magic Association, interrogation room.
Sakiri, a certified Fifth-Class mage and investigator, wiped the sweat beading on his brow. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, and more than half the buttons on his shirt were undone.
He looked every inch a worn-out man. But the forearms gripping the iron cudgel still bulged with power.
"Phew. Break's over—let's get back to it."
"Urghhh…"
Lucas groaned where he lay on the floor.
Deputy leader of the Parrot thieves who'd raided the Magic Association following Arcane. But he'd taken Siina's freezing Absolute Zero and had both legs severed.
He had no idea how many hours he'd been beaten.
If he hadn't been protecting his body with Schema, he'd have long since died.
"Here we go. Grit your teeth."
Sakiri swung the iron bar again. Under the rain of blows, Lucas crawled along the floor on his forearms and then, spent, rolled over.
"Gyaaah! Please, stop! At least ask something before you hit me! I told you I'd tell you everything!"
"Wait. We've got to make a thousand, don't we."
"You lunatic!"
Sakiri kept count in his head. Five strokes left. Now four. Three.
At last, he drove the final blow into the ribs, then tossed the cudgel aside with a satisfied huff.
Clatter—clunk, clunk, the bar rolled across the floor.
"Phew, that hits the spot. That's my workout for the day."
"Uhhh… why are you doing this…"
Clutching his aching side, Lucas wept.
He'd been recruited when the Parrot mercenaries fell into banditry, and on skill alone had rocketed up to deputy. Even face-to-face with Arcane, he hadn't lost his nerve—an arch-villain.
But before Sakiri, he was gum ground into the floor.
Sakiri grabbed Lucas by the hair and heaved him at a chair.
Lucas, flung roughly, hung off the chair; Sakiri sat on the far side of the desk and said,
"Sit. Before I cut off your remaining arms."
Using both arms to lever himself up, Lucas barely got onto the chair. Then Sakiri, without a word for a long while, carefully examined the case file the investigators had compiled.
"Investigator, just send me back to prison already. I'll tell you where Marsha is."
"No need. Do you have any idea what kind of woman she is? You think she'd still be there?"
"Goddamn it! Then why the hell did you beat me?"
Flipping the last page, Sakiri smacked the desk, irritated.
"You know what kind of criminal I hate most? Murderers? Home-wreckers? No—escapees. You think the state looks that easy? There's a limit to how swollen your guts can get. A B-class crook breaks out? Your life is over. You'll never see the sun again."
Lucas swallowed. It wasn't a threat—it was fact.
You could tell from the temperament of an investigator who said he'd hit a thousand—and actually did.
"Anyway, let's start. Best you behave. My daughter's four. This is prime age for her to clown around in front of her dad. But I haven't been home in days. Let the living live a little, got it?"
"What do you want to hear?"
"Everything else can wait. The woman named Marsha. Tell me everything you know about her."
That was the only information Sakiri wanted.
Marsha Clay. A political criminal—an A-class offender—who'd never made a huge scene precisely because she was that hard to catch.
The biggest problem was that the intel was all over the place. Sometimes they said she was a fire mage; other times they said she used freezing magic.
In that sense, she was extremely crafty and thorough. Even mobilizing the investigators as much as possible, they couldn't pin down her route of movement.
So Sakiri called Lucas. He figured the operation had been wrong from the start.
What they really needed to know wasn't where Marsha was—but Marsha herself.