A Resplendent Era (12)

The erudite and well-informed citizens of Antrim were aware that a renowned Londinium mage was residing at a nearby hotel.

“Are you familiar with a man named Edan?”

“Indeed, a familiar name. Why, I had perused a paper about him just a few days ago-“

“Ah, I did not summon you to discuss such trivialities. The fact is, he is currently staying at the Bergson Hotel below.”

“What? Truly?”

No, they didn’t merely acknowledge his presence – they actively gossiped about it themselves.

What better way to subtly tout their interest in the cutting-edge magical trend of electrokinesis?

Of course, some ventured beyond idle chatter, boldly attempting to meet him in person by visiting the hotel. However, such endeavors invariably failed due to ‘inexplicable circumstances’, leaving the would-be visitors trembling and swiftly retreating homeward after witnessing… something.

Still, he occasionally obliged those observing from afar with fan service.

While hugs were off-limits, autographs and kind words could reasonably be expected. At the very least, his face and voice were well-known in the vicinity.

Hence…

“Hello, is anyone there?”

“Hmm? That voice sounds vaguely familiar…”

“Help! Somebody help!”

“Huh?”

When that mage, slightly stumbling in his Belfast dialect, sprinted through the streets frantically calling for the police, some recognized his face or voice.

This city was not so desolate as to ignore a foreigner being lynched by the Demonic Tribe.

Venturing outside risked being roadkill if one unwittingly encountered the Demonic Tribe. But with the entire city in disarray, some found the courage to act.

Those who had passively watched their homes crumble, vicariously experiencing Dorothy’s plight upon waking to a world torn asunder, lacked such inhibitions.

“Police! Poli…ce?”

“They were here just yesterday.”

Appealing to the partially demolished police station would elicit no response.

Ultimately, news of the commotion only reached the city’s emergency task force after the chaos had largely subsided.

Sifting through minor reports like “Someone smashed my store window” or “The street vendor stalls were overturned and wrecked,” one peculiar account remained:

“Wait, hold on. So what exactly happened?”

“A person raised their hand to the sky, and lightning struck!”

“Metal shards were rolling around, and the Demonic Tribe scum were screaming, but I couldn’t get a proper look since it seemed too dangerous to be nearby.”

“And later, from a distance, I even heard explosions. I saw it with my own two eyes, I did!”

Essentially, the report described around half a dozen assailants pursuing a single individual, who retaliated by indiscriminately discharging electricity in all directions.

“This must be…”

“Mr. Edan, wouldn’t you agree?”

The final report stated that he had engaged in a head-on confrontation near a building around an hour prior.

“There’s still a possibility he survived. Perhaps he managed to flee midway!”

“No, if so, there would have been sightings of him arriving at nearby hospitals.”

“But he is a renowned mage. The chances of him single-handedly defeating them all are…”

“There was one police officer who had engaged the Demonic Tribe pursuing him. Upon regaining consciousness, he testified that they were no mere riffraff.”

While it may already have been too late, abandoning all hope would be a diplomatic suicide akin to repeatedly mashing the resignation button.

A heavily armed contingent more akin to a mercenary army than police force, prepared to reduce any Demonic Tribe sightings to smoldering ruins, advanced towards Edan’s last known location.

---

At times, actions speak louder than words.

One could earnestly proclaim not being senile from a podium, convincing some.

But repeating the same assertion for the fifth time would inevitably undermine one’s credibility, would it not?

Thus, actions possess a sincerity that mere words cannot fully convey.

Freugne understood this better than anyone – or rather, she had just realized it.

Creak, thud!

“Found him! Quick, let’s get him out of here.”

“Whew, it’s the first time I’ve seen so many Demonic Tribe corpses littering an area like this.”

“Did he do all this alone?”

“It would seem so, there’s no one else arou- huh?”

After the billowing dust from the explosion settled, Freugne finally opened her eyes to the murmurs around her.

The already-battered door, having endured the blast, let out a final death rattle as it collapsed. A police officer among the rescuers exclaimed:

“There’s someone unconscious in here!”

“Must have been attacked by the Demonic Tribe. Can you ascertain their identity?”

“Uncertain. But they don’t seem to live here… Let’s get this person to a hospital too.”

The space filling her vision upon opening her eyes was hauntingly familiar. It was the very future she had witnessed.

Freugne gently pushed away the hands attempting to support her.

“…Wait a moment. I can walk on my own.”

“Are you conscious? Do you know where you are?”

“Was there… not someone lying in front of me earlier?”

Outwardly, she appeared uninjured, but her condition was far from sound.

Her complexion was pallid, and each step caused her to sway unsteadily, coupled with the chilling coldness of the hand that had initially supported her.

Yet Freugne fixed them with an insistent gaze, prompting the befuddled officers, unable to forcibly relocate her, to slowly nod towards the doorway.

“Do you know them?”

“Yes.”

Following her pointing finger, she saw Edan being loaded onto a stretcher.

The future may have diverged slightly, for she recalled him having bled far more profusely than his current state.

Perhaps her words had instilled him with greater confidence. Not that the overall outcome had drastically altered.

Edan still lay gravely injured and unconscious, while she herself remained alive. Some futures, it seemed, inevitably persisted – regrettably.

“…Uncle.”

Momentarily halting them, Freugne gently placed her hand upon Edan’s chest.

Chilled by the cold weather, a faint warmth nonetheless lingered, signifying life.

Inwardly sighing with relief, Freugne opted not to repeat her previous line.

“I’ll see you later.”

Instead, she merely deferred their reunion.

Having safeguarded his life, he would hardly wish to awaken and behold her disheveled, tearful state, would he?

The rescuers transported Edan to a major hospital nearby – not the one where Freugne had been admitted mere hours prior.

That facility had not only been breached by the Demonic Tribe but was in utter disarray, rendering it unfit for their purposes.

Rather than remaining by Edan’s side, Freugne quietly departed the following day to reunite with Carno and Ulr.

The world after the upheaval was far from peaceful.

The Ceres Martop’s stock prices had initially skyrocketed upon securing a military supply contract, only to plummet like a boa constrictor regurgitating an elephant upon news of Edan’s assault in Antrim.

“Khheheck, stonks, stonks going up!”

“Professor, why is that person laughing while holding the graph upside down?”

“Leave them be. They’re likely trying to escape reality.”

Demanding an explanation for this debacle, city authorities made it routine to summon and reprimand any gathering exceeding two individuals, leaving the clearly culpable with no recourse but to meekly accept their punishments.

The parliamentary situation fared no better.

“The Demonic Tribe emerged within the city! How will you take responsibility for this?”

“The Glasgow Kingdom has unofficially lodged a protest. But their message essentially questioned our inability to maintain domestic order. This is a diplomatic disgrace!”

“This transgression has escalated beyond mere provocation. We must acknowledge that war is upon our doorstep.”

“Turbulent times necessitate more radical measures. We cannot continue enduring this indefinitely!”

“I concur. In that spirit, how about joining me for a meal after this session? That renowned Professor Carno will be in attendance as well.”

“Hmph! You don’t mean to include me in that gathering, do you?”

“Shh, shh! Mind your volume.”

Most individuals in proximity to power instinctively sensed an unseen force guiding, if not outright controlling, the parliament and government in a specific direction.

And Antrim’s newly appointed Prime Minister was no exception – a mere pawn receiving incomprehensible directives in this infected command center masquerading as a governing body.

“Prime Minister, how do you intend to address the persistent unemployment plaguing our republic?”

“Jobs.”

“You are aware of the global famine afflicting the impoverished this year, are you not? Prime Minister, what are your plans to provide relief?”

“Food.”

“The Demonic Tribe’s movements are deeply concerning. The military insists on serious war preparations, so how can we overcome this threat? Please share your thoughts, if any.”

“Peace.”

“He’s beyond help. Already half-deranged.”

Realizing this truth, the Prime Minister descended into utter helplessness and dread.

The countdown to the complete subjugation of Belfast’s government had begun, with even its final bastion compromised.

Amidst this entire upheaval…

Edan remained unconscious for two full days in the hospital ward.