Ch.52The Enemies of the Ten Towers (2)

The man who appeared before us as we headed to the award ceremony hall was a shabby-looking fellow. The wounds across his body and torn clothing showed that he had endured considerable hardship.

A quick glance suggested he wasn’t infected with Silver Death. How did he end up injured like that?

“We’re from the Tenth Tower Emergency Response Team. We’re moving to a safe location now. Would you like to join us?”

Niobe stepped forward and asked. In that brief moment, she had apparently determined that the man wasn’t a Silver Death host.

No matter how awkward they might seem, Blasphemia agents were still agents. I was just admiring her impressive discernment when the man opened his mouth.

“You are…”

“You are Blasphemia.”

“…Pardon?”

Niobe’s response came a beat too late. The man’s hair stood on end as fighting spirit enveloped his entire body.

Damn it. Given that he’s looking for Blasphemia, he’s about 90% likely to be a priest of a vanished god. With a sliver of hope, I asked Lampades.

“That face. Have you seen him in the mercenary business?”

Maybe he’s a fixer who was secretly hired by Blasphemia for something. Perhaps he’s just angry because his client didn’t pay him.

“No. First time seeing him. I’ve been out of the business for quite some time since establishing my magic tower, so he could be a new powerhouse who emerged during that time…”

Lampades charged magical power into the tools wrapped around his body while keeping a wary eye on the shabby man.

I suppressed a sigh that was about to escape. So he is a priest after all? I thought he might be a fixer since he was using fighting spirit.

In this world where magic dominates the paradigm, those who wield fighting spirit are limited. Magic’s status was simply too absolute. Fighting spirit was, so to speak, a refuge for those pushed aside by magic.

Among fixers, users of fighting spirit were relatively common. Most used it as an emergency measure when their magical power was depleted or as supplementary armament for physical enhancement.

So this person might also be a fixer with some probability…

“Blasphemia scum! Where are the members of our order that you kidnapped?!”

Nope. He’s 100% a priest of a vanished god.

‘A priest who handles fighting spirit.’

I recall information about the gods. It’s common for priests to learn other abilities to conceal their divine power.

But the proficiency this man displayed couldn’t be reached if he had learned fighting spirit merely as a disguise technique. He had clearly trained seriously.

A militant god who advocates training not only in divine power but also in fighting spirit. It wasn’t difficult to guess which order the man belonged to.

“If you won’t answer…!”

Red light enveloped the man’s fist. The children following behind us trembled at his fierce aura.

I quickly sent a message instructing Kine what to do and stepped forward.

“That’s far enough.”

***

The smiling man took a step closer. A normal step without any aura or pressure.

‘I can’t sense any magical power…!’

Yet that very ordinariness was somehow alien.

The reason the priest of the vanished god could identify the young sorceress’s identity was because of the magical tools worn by the Tenth Tower agents.

The life signal detection device issued by the Tenth Tower to its agents. He had completely memorized the pattern of the magical field of that tool, which specialized in receiving and transmitting signals.

Normally, the output would be too minimal to detect, obscured by each agent’s individual magical field. However, the priest, who had clashed countless times with the Tenth Tower’s minions, had the ability to detect the faint magical field of the tool within a human’s magical field.

No trace of such magical power could be felt from this man. Complete silence.

None of the Blasphemia agents he had fought could conceal their magical power to such an extent. He must be a magician of terrifying skill.

“Are you… the one in charge here?”

“To some extent, I suppose I am.”

Ortes shrugged once and spoke softly.

“Let the people behind go. Let’s talk just the two of us. They’re just an ignorant rookie and poor people caught up in terrorism.”

“Ha. Did you ever let any of us go? Have you ever listened when we begged you to spare even one child?!”

Niobe retreated a step at that fierce aura. Ortes remained steady.

“If you take that attitude, you’ll never learn the whereabouts of your followers.”

“…”

He couldn’t accurately gauge the skill level of the Blasphemia agent before him. But he sensed instinctively that this wasn’t an opponent he could defeat easily. Even for someone like himself, achieving complete victory would be difficult if reinforcements arrived during a prolonged battle.

“Fine. I acknowledge that time is not on my side. But how can I trust you?”

“…I’ll be your hostage.”

It was Kine who resolutely stepped forward from behind Ortes. The eyes of the people escaping together fixed on her.

“I don’t really understand what you’re talking about… but if I become your hostage, that person won’t be able to act recklessly, right?”

The priest of the forgotten god glared at Ortes. Ortes calmly nodded.

The implicit agreement was reached. Kine gradually moved forward.

***

Lampades, the only one who knew about the relationship between Kine and Ortes—a corporate scholarship student and the secretary general of that corporation—was shocked.

‘That, that bastard…?!’

Did he just offer up his company’s scholarship student as bait without any hesitation?

‘No. How could a child come up with the idea of becoming a hostage on her own? Could it be on Ortes’s orders?!’

How could someone be so cold-blooded?

“I’ll become the hostage instead!”

The distance to the award ceremony hall wasn’t far, and with the Tenth Tower rescue team magician and the admissions officer present, Astrape would arrive safely.

Hearing Lampades volunteer, the admissions officer also raised his hand. It was the manifestation of professional ethics as an adult who should protect children.

“No. Experienced magicians like you remain dangerous even if disarmed, unless magic-sealing restraints are applied. Leave now. Hurry!”

But the priest of the forgotten god rejected their proposal. Ortes’s voice reached the adults who were biting their lips.

“Please take the other children to a safe place. I will handle this situation.”

“Rescue Team Leader…!”

The admissions officer’s voice choked.

He thought of Ortes, who had come with Niobe who introduced herself as part of the emergency rescue team, as Niobe’s superior. Despairing at his own powerlessness to protect the students, he bowed his head and pleaded with the Tenth Tower magician.

“Please rescue her safely. That child, that child…!”

The admissions officer had heard a bit about Kine’s past when asking about her prosthetic hand. A child with a kind heart who sacrificed herself for others despite her unfortunate past should not lose her life to some superstition follower.

Ortes nodded solemnly.

Lampades squeezed his eyes shut at that natural-looking performance.

***

As Kine slowly moved forward, Ortes whispered to Niobe.

“Don’t report this incident to the higher-ups. There’s word of people within who are in league with superstition followers. As with the magical train… the Charlotte branch, I’ll report directly to the Audit Director myself.”

Niobe sensed a certain tension in Ortes’s smiling face. It was the kind of pressure someone might feel when undertaking a mission on which the survival of an organization and the lives of innocent citizens depended.

“Right now, you should focus only on evacuating these people to safety. I’ll somehow bring that child back safely.”

With respect and encouragement, Niobe nodded.

Only after the magicians, including the Mouseion applicants, had disappeared did the priest of the forgotten god begin to move. Carrying Kine over his shoulder, he moved in complex trajectories as if trying to shake off any potential pursuit.

Ortes cursed inwardly at the overly suspicious priest as he ran.

‘Damn. That ignorant brute. The surveillance cameras aren’t even working anyway, yet he’s being so paranoid.’

The man’s sprint came to a halt. Ortes, stopping behind him, thought.

‘Once I leave Elysion, I should hole up in Etna City for a while.’

***

The priest, positioning Kine in front of him, glared at me.

“Where have you kidnapped the order’s followers?”

Damn it. Why am I doing this acting that’s so unlike me?

But this was also an opportunity. Coming alone into Elysion showed extraordinary skill. He clearly held a fairly high position within the order.

If I could manipulate him well, he could be of great help in the upcoming conflict with Argyrion.

…Though his intelligence was somewhat concerning, given that he stormed into Elysion alone.

“First, pleased to meet you, Priest of Enyalios.”

***

The muscles of Demos, priest of the war god Enyalios who symbolized struggle and violence, tensed.

“I’ve never left any Blasphemia scum I’ve met alive. How did you know?”

“For a simple reason. It’s because I—”

“I see! Information extracted by torturing our order members! You despicable creatures!”

“…because I possess a relic of Phoibos.”

“What?”

Confusion. A good start. Ortes’s smile deepened slightly.

In truth, it was a simple deduction requiring no special insight. Combat priests specializing in close-quarters fighting through fighting spirit were hardly common.

Having seized control of the conversation, Ortes’s mind began working sharply.

“First, I must ask this. Is your dispatch the collective will of the Divine Order, or your own independent action?”