Ch.300Final Curtain – No Believers, No Masters (1)

# The Idealists’ Hive Mind and Inspector Raymond rushed into the Veterans’ Association building. It was an awkward sight to see the bald terminal and the gray-haired inspector running in together.

There was a large wound on the terminal’s chest. It looked like it had been torn by some kind of metal cutter, and despite being deep enough to expose ribs, the terminal was still walking. That terminal collapsed at the doorway, and a new one walked in.

Raymond was catching his breath, but The Idealists didn’t need to. He grabbed the detective’s hands with both of his and said:

“Mircalla. That’s the name the reporter told me. How can we find this vampire named Mircalla? If she’s learned psychic magic, she must be connected to excellent magicians. We need mana. If we can use more mana than the Industrial Spirit King…”

“We could take it by force. Lending mana is a simple act, so we wouldn’t even need to make them terminals. Not bad. Not bad at all. But what would you do next?”

“Next?”

The Idealists hadn’t thought about what came after. They thought taking the terminals would remove all the Industrial Spirit King’s limbs. They didn’t know what a crippled torso could do.

The detective passed the conversation to the professor. After calming his burning throat with a glass of water, the professor, who had been talking with Inspector Raymond, said:

“The Industrial Spirit King won’t remain silent after losing his terminals. Once he loses the terminals, his legal means to achieve his goals… he’ll start moving directly. We need countermeasures.”

Inspector Raymond, who had barely managed to drink a glass of water, grabbed the professor’s shoulder. He started speaking without taking time to compose himself, as this had been on his mind from the beginning.

“Wait, wait a minute. How far has the Industrial Spirit King trapped this city? Just Manhattan, or the entire city? If Brooklyn is open, we could take angels who can fly to Fort Hamilton and bring back military explosives. If we detonate them inside the Temple of the Machine of the Age, couldn’t we neutralize it?”

“We don’t know that either, Inspector. We’ve just been holding out here, so we’d need to scout… but angels don’t easily band together in situations like this.”

“Everyone has just one puzzle piece,” Raymond murmured. The picture they needed to complete was vaguely visible, but without all the pieces together, it was meaningless either way.

“I’ve ordered the angels to gather at the police station or somewhere safe to carry out rescue missions. If only Manhattan is trapped, we’ll need to think of a new approach…”

At that moment, the detective remembered the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn’s arsenal. Most were shotguns, but the larger locations would have explosives too. Not military-grade, but dynamite, which would be useful.

Moreover, since the detective had sent Scott back to Texas, New York’s Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn were completely adrift, so no one would have touched their supplies. The detective laid down his puzzle piece.

“Hive Mind, can you send one terminal to my office? No, two would be better. Have one get the circled New York map from the third filing cabinet, and the other grab a 30-caliber rifle. That map shows the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn’s arsenals, where we can get dynamite. Would that be sufficient as an alternative?”

There would be a big difference in explosive power. Mining explosives were designed to blast rock, but it was hard to be confident they could destroy the entire Machine of the Age. Inspector Raymond nodded anyway.

“Not enough… but it’s an alternative. As for finding the magician, are we going to wander around Manhattan in this situation? The industrial spirits are already blocking the front door of the Veterans’ Association…”

It should have been past sunrise, but the concrete and rebar walls encasing Manhattan Island completely blocked out the sunlight. One of the Argonne Invincibles peering through the darkness nodded.

“The inspector’s right. They’re spread out in front. What’s the plan, half-breed?”

The detective pulled Mircalla’s business card from his pocket. He tossed it over and gave the address of Bar Enoch. A spark of life flickered in the eyes of The Idealists’ terminal.

There was a fifty-fifty chance she’d be at home or at Bar Enoch. The detective couldn’t know if she was drinking memorial wine for her lover alone or with her father.

“Fortunately, there are terminals near both locations. Is this the right address? But Bar Enoch is like the headquarters for vampires.”

“Give me one terminal. We’ll go through the terminal. The taxi driver will be there too, and he has the perception abilities that only divine beings possess, so he’ll know who’s controlling it. A magician would be even better.”

“I’ll bring another terminal here. But we’ll have to extract it through a sewer on the street, and industrial spirits are everywhere. Could I ask for cover?”

Salem, who had been slowly inhaling and exhaling mana-infused bloody breath, nodded. It was his first time covering for The Idealists, but the mission was the same, just with different subjects.

Salem spoke to the detective. In his mind, he was speaking to a half-breed, but the detective had dozens of names.

“Half-breed, you’re the only one who brought a gun, right? We’re going out, so watch my back! I’ll assess from above and provide cover.”

“Right. If those things have any sense, they’ll try to subdue the magician with even a slingshot. Hive Mind, are the terminals ready?”

The terminal directly controlled by the Hive Mind nodded. The detective took a light running start and grabbed the high windowsill of the Veterans’ Association building, which was about two stories high. With his gun drawn, he surveyed the darkness.

The industrial spirits were still making metal growling sounds, but they didn’t seem to have any means to act at a distance. The detective gestured to Salem.

Salem leaped up lightly, emitting twice the magical power, and grabbed the window on the opposite side from where the detective stood, pulling himself up. The mana bullets that rose like heat haze in the darkness were barely visible even to him, but it didn’t matter.

Having seen the positions of the industrial spirits once, he could hit them with his eyes closed. The pre-made mana bullets scattered. Clumps of heat haze rained down on the road that, for now, belonged to no human.

Where they hit the road, they created eroded pits. Where they struck the sidewalk, the stone sidewalk corroded and broke. Those that grazed the industrial spirits made their concrete rot away.

As the industrial spirits retreated slightly to avoid these invisible corrosive masses, the terminals opened the boundary between the sewer and sidewalk and emerged. They ran toward the building.

An industrial spirit belatedly tried to chase the terminal, but seeing another, slightly larger mana bullet from Salem coming its way, it pulled back. None of them were prepared to die.

At the detective’s signal, an Argonne waiting by the door opened it, and The Idealists’ second terminal successfully joined them.

The advantage of The Idealists wasn’t simply their numbers. It was that through the Hive Mind, they could communicate almost in real-time even in a New York without electricity.

After seeing the terminal rush in from outside, the half-breed and Salem jumped down from the high windows. The terminal immediately knelt before the detective, who placed his hand on the back of its neck.

“I’ll connect right away. The path into Bar Enoch…”

“I know where it is better than you. Just make the connection, Hive Mind.”

There was a feeling like his mind being pulled from his body, or like having two bodies to manage and finding the most efficient position. He could see himself completely, with his hand on the back of the terminal’s neck.

He connected to the second body. It was sitting at the corner of the street leading to Bar Enoch. That terminal seemed to have stopped there after seeing other terminals sprawled unharmed in front of Bar Enoch.

The moment the detective’s connected terminal stood up, a voice came from Bar Enoch. As the detective had expected, it was the taxi driver’s voice.

“Did you teleport or something? Such magic shouldn’t exist, but I can tell you’re here. Mr. Michael, what’s happened to you?”

The detective made the terminal walk. He met the eyes of the taxi driver, who openly displayed the criminal’s mark on his forehead, inscribed in ancient language, glowing white like the God-President’s words.

So that’s how they were protecting the vampires. Whether someone tried to grind them in a crusher or place hands on their necks to drain their minds, they couldn’t penetrate that criminal’s mark that returned all harm sevenfold.

The Industrial Spirit King was speaking with a voice made of things that weren’t voices, having obtained divinity, but it couldn’t compare to the God-President’s divinity. Wait. The detective had a different thought.

Does this mean the God-President’s divinity is enough to overwhelm minor deities with few followers? If so… No, no. The detective shook his head. It was obvious he would still be watching.

The absence of the Divine Security Bureau in Manhattan confirmed it. He would be waiting for humans to accomplish this on their own, sitting in the best seat, knowing every part of every story.

“You can see with your eyes. I borrowed a terminal to come here. Is Mircalla here? She learned psychic magic. Since she learned what only the most mana-rich magicians in New York learn… I thought she could introduce us to magicians. We’ll borrow the magicians’ mana to cut off the Industrial Spirit King’s limbs.”

Cain seemed interested in this, so the detective explained the plan in more detail. After hearing it, he nodded cleanly.

“There might be a chance of success. Mircalla is inside. I’ll call her out here, so please wait a moment. I… I must protect my children.”

“Are you someone who protects your children?”

Cain let out a small laugh at the detective’s joke, meant to ease the tension. He called Mircalla first, then answered the question.

“How could I abandon my children? If I did, their blood would cry out to the God-President from the ground. Just like back then.”

“Don’t casually reminisce about thousands of years ago…”

The tension eased only until Mircalla appeared. She looked strangely at her father talking to a terminal, then began to emit the smell of ozone. She had read the terminal’s mind.

She asked in an anxious voice. Hearing his voice from inside a terminal was somewhat concerning, especially in the midst of this disaster.

“Mr. Michael…?”

“Don’t worry. I’m just helping The Idealists’ Hive Mind. Anyway…”

The detective explained the plan to Mircalla too. She nodded confidently with a smile at the request to find New York’s best magicians.

“When I was learning from the professors, one of our assignments was to read minds to find out the professors’ favorite bars. I met them a few days ago and learned they planned to spend the New Year sober, so most of the professors should be at that bar now. You’re not thinking of going alone, are you, Mr. Michael? If you show up in that terminal, you’ll end up with as many holes as Swiss cheese from all the spells.”

“I’m not going. The Idealists will go with you. We’re holding off the industrial spirits for now, and terminals alone should be enough to break through other terminals.”

The Hive Mind would now know that Mircalla was at Bar Enoch. She reached out and gently took the hand of the terminal the detective was controlling.

“If you say so, I’ll believe you. Because you used me, I was able to share forgiveness and life with my father instead of hatred and death. And the way to repay someone who saved your life is to show them that you’ve become someone who can save others’ lives too. I’ll return what I received.”

The detective thought of Professor Albert at those words. He thought of self-sacrifice, willingly giving up one’s life. He swallowed it down. It was a day that made him reflect on his year living in New York. Terminals began to gather.

They weren’t terminals replaced with machinery. Twenty terminals wielding lead water pipes like clubs and ten terminals with either cheap, crude pistols or shotguns stolen from someone’s home approached them.

The parallel voice of The Idealists’ Hive Mind echoed through the darkness-covered streets of New York. All the terminals were speaking simultaneously.

“We’ve brought all the terminals we could immediately mobilize from those remaining in New York. The twenty with clubs will be used as meat shields, and the other ten must be kept alive. There’s no need to worry. We are ideological beings. Ideology is bulletproof and feels no pain. We request your guidance, Mircalla.”

After seeing this, the detective removed his hand from the back of the terminal’s neck. The terminal that had been serving as a connection point rose and immediately began reporting.

“Two terminals have secured the rifle and map from your office. Which address on the map should I call out?”

“Have them bring the rifle here to use for defense. On the map, find the largest circle on Manhattan Island. And, Inspector, do you know exactly where the angels have gathered?”

The Idealists’ Hive Mind read the address through the terminal in front of the detective while looking at the map with another terminal. It was a method that couldn’t be used without The Idealists, but having a method alone was also useless.

Raymond, who had been catching his breath, got up. He removed his clothes, soaked in black oil and red blood, wiped his forehead once, and gripped two swords, one in each hand. He shook his head.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take a few Invincibles and go out to search together. Head-on like before…”

The detective clicked his tongue twice. It was quite rude, but Raymond wasn’t one to mind rudeness at times like this.

“They haven’t secured the back door for sure, so let’s just you and I sneak out the back door. We don’t need to advertise the fact that we’re preparing to directly take down the Industrial Spirit King.”

Even as the Industrial Spirit King thought he had bought time by temporarily sealing the Veterans’ Association full of monstrous Argonnes, the entanglement was still writhing. It was pulsating.

Raymond offered one of his daggers to the detective, but he pulled out Sol Invictus’s gladius from his waist to show him. As Raymond was about to speak after reading the unholy energy in the sword, the detective spoke first.

“I know what words you’re thinking of, but forget all those words you thought of… how about replacing them with the word ‘experienced’ instead? That’s better, isn’t it?”