Ch.53Request Log #007 – The Weight of Life (3)

I stare at the security guard dying with his flesh caving in on itself. This couldn’t be gas—if it were, he wouldn’t have been able to turn back toward me.

Besides, the expressions on the dead were peaceful. If they had suffered, they wouldn’t look so bland, with only minor injuries as if they’d simply fallen down.

Whatever killed these people was brief but effective. Magic? No, I’ve never heard of magic like this. If such magic existed, they would have used it during the Great War.

It couldn’t be a ritual either. Rituals required extensive preparation. Usually, you had to carve ritual markings directly into flesh or offer sacrifices. This was too clean.

Wait a moment. The air smelled of ozone—the scent of mana reacting with air. So it was magic after all. Before following the scent, I entrust the security guard to Yehoel.

“Take him and get out of here. Bring the other angels. I heard the God-President sent an Archangel down to your department—if it’s the God-President, he must have sent them in anticipation of this.”

Yehoel, apparently seeing so many dead people for the first time, shows an uncharacteristically emotional face for an angel, though typical for a fallen one.

“Uh, oh? R-right… Aren’t you coming?”

Dozens were dead, but this was in a rundown street near the docks, which limited the casualties. If this had happened on Fifth Avenue… it would have looked just like during the Great War.

I shake my head to dismiss Yehoel’s concern. We received this cursed double strength and double vitality to withstand magic, so I should be fine.

“I smelled magic. I’m going to follow the scent in case it’s them. Since this street is already like this, nobody will complain even if I start shooting in the street.”

Since the area is densely packed with low buildings, I put the rifle back in my duffel bag and take out a pump-action shotgun. It was useful even in trenches narrower than these alleys.

Without waiting for Yehoel’s response, I rush into the alley following the ozone smell of mana reacting with air. The metallic scent of ozone grows stronger as I enter the alley.

From a distance, I hear voices. Someone is shouting, accompanied by the sound of kicking something with boots.

“We didn’t even need to use the War Spirit! Botan surrendered to these things! If he hadn’t driven out the Kaiser to become our German God-President… Anyway, we were just testing it here, but it worked so well! It’s survival of the fittest! Only those of us strengthened through war will survive!”

It sounded like an immigrant filled with paranoid delusions from reading inflammatory material. Yes, that’s exactly what an immigrant would say. I lean against the wall at the corner of the alley with my gun lowered, hiding in the shadow cast by the wall as I peek around the corner.

There was one of the human-dwarf hybrids I’d seen in the photos. In front of him knelt a human figure… but no orc was visible.

I take note of the appearance first. Short black hair tied in two braids hanging down, with distinctively green eyes now contorted with anger. That color would make tracking easier.

The hybrid was ranting nonsense while standing over some human corpse. He had no gun in hand, and the kneeling human was just emitting bizarre laughter—clearly not in fighting condition.

From the way he talked, he seemed to be a dwarf veteran who spoke of backstabbing and such, but he looked too young to be a veteran. He appeared to be nineteen at most.

At that age, he would have been twelve or thirteen during the Great War. As horrific as the war was, they didn’t use boy soldiers that young.

So what was he? There was no use just thinking about it, so I turn the corner and aim at the hybrid’s torso. I immediately pull the trigger.

At this distance, the shotgun couldn’t miss. Yet the hybrid didn’t clutch his body and fall. Somehow, all the pellets seemed to have missed.

Noticing the ozone smell again, I identify the magic. It was a spell that confused the senses. I’d experienced it during the Great War. The hybrid probably wasn’t even in the direction I was looking.

I raise my head again. I had shot at the wall, and the hybrid was at the corner opposite to where I had tried to peek. My left-right perception had been reversed.

The hybrid snorts briefly at my confusion, while also clapping.

“What? You immediately recognized what magic it was? No, more importantly, you’re still alive? I thought only those hardened by war could withstand this magic, but it seems not everyone in America is inferior. Who are you?”

What a way of talking. Assuming he must be a Great War veteran, I grit my teeth to prevent more magic from penetrating and look at him.

“I’m a Doppelsöldner. During the Great War, I had my face planted in no-man’s-land so many times because of that magic that it got tiresome.”

Instead of fear or hatred, the hybrid bursts into laughter. He stares at me as if that couldn’t possibly be true. My senses weren’t changing. There was no smell of magic either.

“You can’t be a Doppelsöldner! Doppelsöldners are monsters with two heads, four arms, and four legs. Or was that some American humor just now?”

No, damn it. He’s not a veteran. He seems to be a kid who only heard about the front lines through rumors back home. Just a hybrid who knows magic and has been poisoned by strange ideas.

“You talk about being hardened by war when you’ve never even been to the battlefield. Aren’t you embarrassed? To someone with experience, your true nature is too easily exposed.”

The hybrid is flustered. No German soldier would be unaware of what the Argonne Invincibles were or what “Doppel” meant. He’s a civilian. Definitely a civilian who never saw the front lines.

He probably didn’t even care much about the war. Just an ordinary civilian who fell for the post-war propaganda that we didn’t lose because we were weak.

He learned hatred well without experiencing anything. A generation born of war. Not wrong to call him a sibling of the War Spirit.

“W-what? Don’t talk nonsense! I too have endured the harshness of war…”

I immediately counter. My method is always the same. Shake them up and strike.

“Sure, if by harshness you mean eating turnips for three meals a day. You know nothing about war, so you’re impressed by that inflammatory garbage and doing stupid things. Isn’t that right? Your brain is completely rotten. That’s how you could do something as crazy as bringing a War Spirit to the American mainland.”

The young hybrid, insulted in his supposedly noble ideology, begins to get excited. The unpleasant ozone smell of mana reacting with air spreads around. Magic again.

My sense of direction starts to mix up again. My vision keeps shaking as if I’m on turbulent water, but somehow I manage to stand on both feet and face forward.

“No, no, no! I’m different from those worthless, insignificant lives! W-what? Why are you still standing! You should be rolling on the ground! A normal person wouldn’t even be conscious!”

Fighting back the nausea, I put my finger on the shotgun’s trigger. Unfortunately for that woman, the magic’s effect on me was only half strength.

Fortunately, the only people alive around here to worry about getting shot were the hybrid kid and the madman trembling in front of him, so there was nothing to worry about.

I pull the trigger. Of course, I miss. With the trigger still pulled, I pump again. I miss again, but the hybrid kid casting magic on me starts to panic.

I’m beginning to get a feel for how my sense of direction is being manipulated. Moving my hand in sync with the fluctuations, I keep the trigger fully pulled while just working the pump.

This time there’s a scream. Several pellets must have hit the outstretched hand, as the hybrid kid is clutching her right hand with the other while screaming.

“Ugh, aaagh! It, it hurts. It’s, it’s hot, hot… S-save, no, no. I’ll kill you! Charles!”

When the woman shouts at the madman crouched on the ground, he just clutches his head more tightly and makes choking sounds. I didn’t bother wondering why she was relying on such a madman.

That’s because the hybrid kid had long since stopped focusing on the magic that was distorting my sense of direction, despite her harsh words. My senses were gradually returning to normal.

Since she must be the one who contracted with the spirit, I’ll kill this witch and be satisfied with half the bounty. I can still get a bounty for the remaining madmen.

But suddenly, the human who had been crouching with his head to the ground and trembling stands up. His face is shaking with fear. His teeth are chattering violently as if terrified of something.

Just as my aim is returning and I’m about to pump again, the man starts shouting something in awkward English. His voice erupts like he’s having a seizure.

“Ah, aah! Aaaaargh! Remember the Somme! Remember Verdun! See what I have seen!”

An ozone smell stronger than the hybrid magician’s magic fills the surroundings. Some unknown magic spreads out.

I was confused. My body started trembling. My vision blurred and began to darken.

I felt a stinging pain in my chest. It was a very unpleasant sensation, like my heart was forcing itself to beat when it wanted to stop. I could tell this was the magic that killed those people, but that was all.

My body wouldn’t move. An unpleasant sensation rose from my fingertips, feeling both tingly and cold at the same time. My mind was gradually becoming foggy. Just like a candle going out.

It was literally a magic that spread death. I needed to think to stay alert. What should I think about? What that madman said. The Somme and Verdun, the Somme and Verdun… Yes, both were battlefields.

These weren’t ordinary former battlefields where War Spirits stood motionless as they died. I gritted my teeth and continued thinking to keep my mind from going blank. The Somme River basin and Verdun plains. Synonyms for hell.

Too many people died there. Too many magicians died there. Mana-mixed blood filled the ground densely, and as the blood evaporated, mana instantly vaporized and became some kind of magic.

There, mana storms that separated flesh from bone while people were still alive always raged. The War Spirits, who had no mouths to speak with, howled only there.

That madman must be a veteran who fought there. Was this magic that added mana to the sensations he saw and felt there and spread them around?

I tried to figure out the magic while struggling to revive my foggy mind.

Though I was just rambling and couldn’t really figure out the magic, I was definitely achieving my purpose of holding onto my fading consciousness.

My body tilts. I lean against the wall to support myself. I wanted to see what expression the hybrid magician was making and smirk at her. As my breath was about to stop, I grabbed my chest and pressed it to force myself to breathe.

If it weren’t for this cursed ritual that made magic and everything else only half effective, I would have died long ago. Death was unbearable, but half of death was bearable.

I vaguely heard a fearful voice in front of me. The hybrid magician must now clearly understand what the Doppelsöldner their soldiers feared was.

“This magic should work properly… A D-Doppel… Were you really a Doppelsöldner? Charles, let’s run, let’s run away! We can’t handle this!”

The madman continued screaming. His screams grew faint, and I could only vaguely see the frightened hybrid magician fleeing.

My whole body is cold. I feel like I’m dying. It’s repetitive. Endure, and if I endure, the magic will disappear too. I grit my teeth with the determination not to die. If I die without being freed from the ritual, I’ll just die alone.

To rest perfectly like a poet, I can’t die like this. I barely withstood the death magic with my cursed will. It was unpleasant that this ritual always became the last straw in the worst situations.

My digestive system and entire body, which had stiffened like a corpse’s, slowly begin to move again. My muscles wouldn’t move, like those of comrades who had stiffened in no-man’s-land.

After barely exhaling, I take a deep breath of fresh air, though it’s full of the unpleasant ozone smell of mana reacting with air. My posture collapses and I sit on the ground.

At least putting the security guard in Yehoel’s hands was a good move. And yes, now I understood why The Morrígan and the God-President considered this matter so important.

And I decided to take back my thought that I had earned The Morrígan’s favor. She was a woman who would throw even me into danger. Thinking this, I gritted my teeth and finally moved my tingling legs a little.

I sit on the ground. Like Hansel and Gretel, I stare for a moment at the street where the hybrid magician disappeared, leaving only drops of blood.

She fled in fear, so she won’t come back here. She probably doesn’t even realize she’s leaving a trail of blood, so I can rest a bit before pursuing her.

My voice is starting to return. Through gritted teeth, I speak to myself.

“Get up. Get up! You can endure this. You just had your senses stirred by magic from some girl who’s merely a leftover from the war, and you were hit by a death spell cast by that damn Frenchman who follows her so faithfully. No time to whine. There was a time when you caught a bounty after running almost a mile with a shotgun wound to the stomach…”

I grab the brick wall behind me and raise my body. Though my muscles hadn’t fully recovered and it was excruciatingly painful, seeing myself sitting on the ground would have been more irritating.

I stand up. My legs were trembling a bit, but I stand on both feet. Only now do I unclench my teeth and sigh. I finish my unfinished sentence.

“You know… Phew…”

While leaning against the wall, I make my way out of the alley. Though she fled in fear, she must have realized her hand was bleeding and wrapped it at some point. The blood trail ended right in front of the alley.

I feel like all the strength I had barely mustered has vanished. Damn, I want to meet The Morrígan and complain about being put in danger… Ah, I don’t know. I just wanted to rest.

If I sat toward the main street, I would see people who were living ordinary lives until they were killed by a deranged hybrid kid, so I turned toward the alley and sat down again.