Chapter 1, Part 1:
It was my second time on this train, and it felt just as strange as it had before.
I could hear the turning of the wheels and the steam escaping from valves. The cabin also rocked comfortably. However, I felt as if I was atop a floating carpet. It didn’t make any sense, but these contradictions coexisted aboard this train.
The Rail Zeppelin. What a beautiful yet terrifying name, fitting for a secretive train meant for illegal organ trade.
“…Are the interior decorations… different?” I muttered to no one in particular.
“We redecorate once in a while,” Rodin said. His pallid face remained emotionless, making him seem inhuman. His appearance made him well-suited to be the conductor of such a unique train. “However, not many guests notice. Out of the ones who frequent the train, most partake in the auctions through their familiars. Only a few board the train in person more than once.”
“…Oh, really?”
I could sense a feeling of familiarity in his words. Maybe that was because of his staff member’s spirit.
Either way, the conductor was just as distant from the normal world as the train itself.
Apparently, he was a Dead Apostle’s kinsman.
Though Dead Apostles were also associated with Mystery, they were different from mages and Heroic Spirits. They were also unlike the spirits and ghosts I had been taught to fight, so I found them unbelievable rather than scary.
Perhaps this was a sign of how impactful Dr. Heartless’ plan was.
After much speculation and thought, my mentor had deduced that turning Iskandar into a Divine Spirit was Heartless’ final goal. To this end, he had stolen my mentor’s artifact, stolen Mystic Eyes from the Rail Zeppelin, and summoned faker. All of the scheming he had conducted in the dark was in preparation for this final act.
Through creating Divine Spirit Iskandar, Heartless planned to bring back the Age of the Gods, making modern mages lose the reason to search for the root.
That was why he had gone into Spirit Tomb Albion.
I understood the reasoning.
However, the scale of it all was beyond my imagination. Even though I still didn’t understand what Heartless’ motivation was, his actions had the power to overturn millennia of mages’ effort.
In response, we had gathered a somewhat strange group of people to stop Heartless. Our team was both a result of my mentor’s journey and of Heartless’ actions.
Of course, both of these journeys were incredibly long. My mentor had been involved in countless incidents since he was forcibly made a Lord, while Heartless might have started plotting even before he left his post as the head of the Department of Modern Magecraft.
The two of them were like mirror images—No, it was more like one was the distorted version of another, like the two sides of a Möbius strip. The likeness(TN: alternatively, contrast) was present both in their skill as mages and their ways of thought. Though they couldn’t be more different, I couldn’t help but think that they approached problems the same way.
I was abruptly plunged into fear by a thought.
…What if my mentor was dragged into the depths of Purgatory along with Heartless?
I felt a gentle touch on my tense shoulder.
“It’ll be alright.”
It was my mentor, who was sitting beside me. Even though his hand also trembled slightly, I found comfort in it.
“…Why can’t I see anything from the window?” The one-armed monk complained.
It was Jiroubou Seigen Tokitou. He was a monk of the shugendō religion from the Far East. I had learned during my mentor’s lectures that it was a complicated combination of Buddhism and mountain worship, but I didn’t remember the details.
“Why do you want to know what’s going on outside? This train travels outside of regular reality. Think about it. We’re going to Spirit Tomb Albion.”
The person who responded was the astrologer Flue, a buff man with a dirty headscarf who was currently juggling his knives. Even though we were all inside the train, he reminded me of a gust of dry, desert wind.
“If we accidentally take in more sensory information than our brains can handle, they’ll fall to bits. We’ll be entering a top-danger zone soon, so why would you take the risk?”
The next person to speak was the blonde-haired young lady.
“But shouldn’t this degree of chaos be exactly what we mages seek? If one wishes to reach the Root, one must not mind risks like these.”
Seigen and Flueger already had varying worldviews, making the team feel patched-together. The addition of this young lady only made it worse. Even I could tell at a glance that her blue dress was her expensive as it swished about gracefully. Her face looked as if it had been created by a heavenly sculptor. She was so different from everyone else, to the point where I felt that anyone would accept that she was actually a mage.
Her name was Luviagelita Edelfelt.
All three of these people had been present in the the first incident at Adra, the Castle of Separation. Now, they had joined us on an expedition to Spirit Tomb Albion.
“Haha, I don’t expect a high-class lady to have the same opinions as a spell caster mercenary anyway. That aside, what roles do you plan on assigning us?”
“Well, I’m undoubtedly the lookout,” my mentor said. “I can’t do anything else. Unfortunately, I am the worst among us in terms of capability in dealing with Mystery.”
“Yes. You’d come out on top if this was a magecraft theory test. For this task, though, your disciple is definitely the most skilled.”
I had heard that most teams that went on expeditions to Spirit Tomb Albion were composed of five people. There were typically three roles: the excavators dug out the resources that they discovered, the lookout warned the team of dangers nearby, and the fighters defended the team against the creatures of the labyrinth.
“We don’t need excavators, but guides. Other than that, the fighters have to sort out what specific role they fill. I’m automatically a guide because I’m the only one with experience surviving in the labyrinth, and Luvia’s clearly a fighter. ”
“I never knew you were a Survivor of Spirit Tomb Albion.” My mentor said in response to Flueger’s words.
I also found that interesting. I didn’t recall hearing something like it back at Adra Castle.
“That’s probably because I put an ad up on TV about it.”
“No, seriously. Shouldn’t the fact that you are a Survivor of Spirit Tomb Albion improve your job prospects as a mercenary? Why don’t you use it to promote yourself?”
Flue was silent for a moment before he spoke again.
“You know my nickname, right?” He asked.
The answer to that question slipped from my mouth by accident.
“…The mentor-killer.”
I didn’t know the reason behind the nickname, but I had heard people address him as that during the first incident.
“It’s exactly what you think it means. I stayed in Spirit Tomb Albion while the incident cooled down. If I advertise myself as a Survivor, I’ll be held accountable. That’s why I’ve stayed silent.”
“…I see.” My mentor nodded.
To mages, teacher-student relations were incredibly important. If the teacher and the student were related, one could pass on their Magic Crest to the other. Even if they were not, they were still incredibly close because the student inherited the teacher’s treasured Mystery. This was a fact that I had become acutely aware of because of my experiences.
I suddenly had a somewhat odd thought.
What if mages were like the continuous thread of time?
That would explain why killing students or teachers was so frowned down upon. Doing so would be like splitting apart an ancient river of time. The act of erasing of the past(teacher) or the future(student) was antithetical to a mage’s existence.
Of course, in some mages’ eyes, this heinous act was nothing compared to their ultimate goal of reaching the root. I had met enough mages, so it wasn’t actually hard to imagine what I just mentioned.
The same went for the mages that were currently gathered on this train.
After a little while, the train began to slow down. Blue light also began to stream in from the previously pitch black windows. However, it was different from the sunlight of the surface world. It was a strange light, which filled me with nostalgia and excitement.
“…We have arrived,” the conductor announced solemnly. “We are currently situated in the top floor of Spirit Tomb Albion. Unfortunately, this is as far as this train can safely go.”
I thought I sensed a slight tinge of emotion in his voice, but maybe that was a figment of my imagination.
Rodin bowed as the doors of the train slowly slid open.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I wish you all the best of luck.”
*
We got of the train at the underground equivalent of the foot of a mountain. Not long after, the Rail Zeppelin departed, disappearing in a veil of fog. Perhaps because the fog came with the train, it soon dissipated too, leaving us with a full view of Spirit Tomb Albion.
“…That’s not the sky, is it?”
That was the first thing I said.
I was referring to the faintly glowing dome that stretched out far above us. Was the dome several kilometers wide, or several hundreds of kilometers wide? I didn’t know. It was the first time I had seen a dome that was so giant, possibly because such a thing did not exist anywhere else.
In contrast to the “sky”, the ground that encircled us was made up of rivers and strange-looking streets, which snaked between several mountain ranges.
Was this the Mining City? I thought.
I had heard Flue talk about it as we made our way here on the train. It was a bridgehead built by mages for those who wanted to challenge the deeper levels of the labyrinth. Gazing upon it from afar, who could believe that such a place existed kilometers beneath the city of London?
“Underground at last,” Flue said, examining the periphery somewhat impatiently. “Yep, this is the place. …As expected of the famous Rail Zeppelin. It took us to just the right place.”
“Did you tell them where to take us, Mr. Flue?”
“Yes. Though it is the famous Rail Zeppelin, it can’t take us directly to the center of the city. Time is of the essence, so I prepared some supplies before we got on the train.”
The tanned mage scratched his chin and pointed at his backpack. Then, he looked around once again as he continued to speak.
“Before we head off, just so you’re all aware, it’ll take approximately twenty-two hours and fifty minutes to reach our target floor. We’ve all rested up as much as possible while you were on the Rail Zeppelin, but are you guys sure that you won’t need to sleep or relieve yourselves in the process?”
Seigen was the first to reply.
“Being able to go without sleep or food for three days straight is the bare minimum requirement for us monks.”
“Well, of course. That is only the most basic form of enhancement(TN: enhancement = strengthening).” Luvia said with a slight frown.
“…I-I’ll be fine as well.” I responded, feeling my ears turn red.
Though I wasn’t a proper mage, adjusting bodily functions was part of my training as a grave keeper of Blackmore Graveyard. I also recalled the executors of the Holy Church using this tactic, so it was probably a basic requirement for people involved with Mystery.
“…I’m extremely sorry, but I don’t think I can operate without sleep,” my mentor said with a pained expression. “I’ve been overexerting by brain for the past day. I’ll probably be able to walk without any problems with the help of some kind of stimulant, but it would be very hard for me to maintain a normal mental state.”
“OK, that’s quite the honest confession coming from a Lord of the Clock Tower,” Flue said, closing one eye and raising both hands. “It’s dangerous to traverse Spirit Tomb Albion without taking breaks anyway. In that case, let’s take two or three breaks, each around twenty minutes in length. Is that better?”
“Yes. Meditation-style healing magecraft can also increase the effectiveness of the rests. There are side effects to using it, but they’re within an acceptable range.”
Seeing my mentor say this with a frown, a giggle escaped from Luvia, and she covered her mouth.
“Aha, how plagued must you be by sleep deprivation on a daily basis if that is enough to cause side effects?”
“I am constantly plagued by sleep deprivation, Lady. Please don’t mock me too much, though. It reminds me of my sister.”
“Haha, consider it payback for earlier.” Luvia said, putting a hand to her lips, which curved like a lovely crescent. “I never expected that I would end up as your teammate.”
I shared her sentiment. I couldn’t help but marvel at how far we had all gone since the incident at Adra, the Castle of Separation. We had just rode the Rail Zeppelin to Spirit Tomb Albion to chase after a mage from the Age of the Gods and her Master, the former head of the Department of Modern Magecraft. That summary alone was probably enough to make some people feel dizzy.
“Put these on.” Flue said, putting down his backpack and passing each of us a piece of cloth.
“What!? You want me to wear this dirty rag?”
“Oh, give me a break! Are you planning on going to the Mining City dressed as a noble? The same goes for you, Lord. No one will mind a monk, but you two stand out too much.”
It took Luvia a while to process Flue’s words. Finally, she reluctantly covered her beautiful hair and shoulders with the cloth. Though she was a proud, spoiled person, she could accept things that were not in her style as long as she understood them. She knew that she needed more than powerful magecraft to survive in the World of Magecraft.
“Um…” I asked in trepidation as my mentor and Seigen donned their capes as they were told. “Is it fine if I stay dressed like this?”
“Yeah, you wear a hooded cape all the time anyway. You’ll be fine.”
“S-sure…”
“Ihihihi! You’re just glad to be in the same outfit as everyone else for once, aren’t you?”
“What? N-no!”
Add laughed like a creaking machine as I shook my head vehemently.
To this, Seigen, the monk who was missing an arm and an eye, cleared his throat.
“Flue, should we get going?”
“Sure. Come with me.”
Flue began to walk forward quickly. The entire group moved forward at an enhanced pace, but my mentor fell behind the group and tripped several times. I actually decided to carry him part of the way when he was out of breath. Despite this, we reached the plains at a surprising speed. In less than twenty minutes, we arrived at the beginning of the streets.
“…Wow.” Seigen muttered to himself.
From a distance, the city reminded me of desert cities in the Middle East. Up close, it was different. To be honest, it looked more like a giant beehive or anthill.
The buildings were not separated with concrete like everywhere else in the modern day, but rather with dirt walls. People walked about in the shadows of these somewhat primitive buildings. The streams of pedestrians were exactly like those on London streets. In a certain sense, the people here were more diverse than the people in the rigid social classes of the Clock Tower. In terms of similarities, there were few old people, and most were dressed like us.
Instead of cars, the streets were also full of all kinds of strange creatures. Much like the mounted police above the surface, people rode about on rhino-like creatures and giant, shelled beasts. I had no idea whether they were Phantasmal Species or regular animals that had evolved into strange beings over time. Either way, there were all kinds of creatures here that could not be found elsewhere.
“…So this is the Mining City. Are these creatures commonplace here?”
“Every region is different. In the central area, for example, you two will stand out even though you’re in a different outfit. You’ll probably be fine in this place, though.”
Booths and stalls lined the streets as well, selling a variety of items including but not limited to food. Perhaps because of the diverse nature of this place, there was an enigmatic mixture of scents, comprised of strange spices, barbecued food, and the stench of mystical creatures.
I thought I smelled some kind of spice that I didn’t recognize. The ones on sale here probably had all kinds of special effects that I knew nothing about. Maybe they sold talismans that I knew of, like Spirit Roots, here as well.
“……”
Suddenly, I heard the shouting from one of the booths nearby. Some kind of fight seemed to have broken out. I immediately felt a ripple of Magical Energy, so someone-- actually, probably both sides had probably used enhancement magecraft. Dust was kicked up into the air, and fell to the ground crackling with purple energy. This seemed to be a normal occurrence for the people there, so everyone else just walked by without caring.
“Don’t look around too much,” Luvia urged in a small voice. “We are considered newcomers, so we should not mind others’ business. I have already sensed three people take note of us.”
“Haha, you’re already used to it, huh?”
“I might not have been to Albion before, but I have visited many foreign countries. No matter where the Edelfelts are, glory must accompany us.”
“Yeah, I know. If only money could solve all your problems. The thieves here are more concerned with stealing blood and guts.”
Flue’s words were more than just a threat.
“I know mage blood sells everywhere, but guts…” Seigen said, shocked.
Now that Flue said it, I could see livers and kidneys on display at the back of some booths. Just like how the Rail Zeppelin specialized in the trade of Mystic Eyes, it appeared that the people in Albion specialized in selling internal organs.
“The buildings here are made of dirt. Is that because…?”
“Oh, you realized that? You have a keen eye for spells, then. Let me show you an example.”
Flueger touched the wall beside him and closed one of his eyes. Then, he gave it a knock before grabbing one of the small knives he usually used for divination and stabbing it into the wall.
However, it was not Flue’s strange behavior that surprised us.
The gash created by his knife closed up right in front of our eyes.
“What…!”
“It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it? It’s like the Fēng in Chinese Mythology(TN: Also called the Shìròu. Basically, a giant lump of flesh). Any minor injuries heal immediately.”
Flue shrugged as I stayed silent, still too surprised to say anything.
“This is only the uppermost layer, but it’s already Albion proper. Specifically, it’s the tail of the dragon. Even the dirt has been altered because of the ancient dragon’s energy, which is particularly evident around here. Most of the buildings are made by using magecraft to manipulate the properties of the dirt.”
Flue’s explanation did not make it any less surprising. This was completely at odds with what I had been told about magecraft and Mystery.
“But isn’t magecraft badly suited to mass production…?”
“That only applies on the surface,” my mentor added. “This place is different. The material makes the houses less durable, but it’s not like the people here could have brought down construction equipment. Just like Flue said, there is an excess of Mana here. Even though it is still dimensions behind the levels of the Age of the Gods, Greater Magic Formulae are easy to cast here… of course, the mages casting the spells still have to be skilled.”
He frowned as he said this. No matter what the situation was like, my mentor was still my mentor.
“That aside, there are probably more skilled spellcasters here than there are in the Clock Tower.”
“In summary, there are also composite workshops on sale here, which are also unique to the area. The environment around the city is constantly shifting, so the people here use tools like Formal Craft and artificial golems to construct artificial streets.”
I listened to Flue, slightly bewildered.
Above ground, some people in the first department(Mystile) used golems as servants. However, none of them were capable of things on the scale of building houses.
Ah, this place was really a separate reality.
Spirit Tomb Albion surprised me even though I was a member of the Clock Tower who had experienced a fair share of Mystery.
In that case, I thought, what was it like for Heartless’ students to have lived here? Ms. Asheara, who we had met at the Secret Autopsy Division, had probably been born in Albion. People who grew up in this wonderland must have had trouble accepting that there was another world above them, as if they had been displaced in time.
Just like what Faker must have felt upon being summoned to the modern age.
“Either way, every nook and cranny of this place is based upon the labyrinth. That is to say, the body of the nameless ancient dragon. This city only survives on scavenging through its rotten corpse, tearing away what remains of its flesh, and feeding upon the maggots that spew forth from its bones.”
“How delightful.” Luvia said with a smile.
The Edelfelt were often called the world’s most elegant hyenas. She was probably capable of saying something like “stealing from corpses is a noble’s pursuit” in a dignified manner.
“Well then, Flue, where do you plan on taking us before we head into the labyrinth?”
In response to Seigen’s question, a frown formed between Flue’s eyebrows.
“To my mentor’s place.” Said Flue, the mage who was known as the mentor-killer.
*
Flue led us away from the city, to a place that truly resembled tunnels dug by ants.
This area seemed to be part of the labyrinth, with its sparsely-populated, winding streets. As I thought about this, I ran after the astrologer.
“Didn’t you say you killed your mentor?”
“Shhhh.” Flue put a finger to his lips, silencing Luvia.
Then, he carefully took out one of his small knives and tossed it into the air.
“Lead me.”
It was a One Count spell.
Could the astrologer’s knives function the same way underground? I wondered.
The blade of the knife traced an invisible arc in the air. It seemed to stop unnaturally as it flew before stabbing into one of the walls beside us. I thought that the wall would heal itself again. This time, however, it passed straight through the wall and fell to the ground on the other side. The place where the wall should have been disappeared, revealing a small path.
“Trying to trick me, huh? … As bothersome as ever.”
“You mean, your mentor, who is supposed to be dead?”
Just as Luvia was about to ask him in more detail, an unfamiliar, raspy voice rang out.
“—Trying to kill me again, bastard disciple!?”
An expression of distaste flashed across Flue’s face as he turned the corner on the small path. Then, he lifted up a sheet that had been draped there to reveal a small space. There were vaguely Middle Eastern decorations on the walls and cupboards, along with some star charts and knives similar to the ones Flue used.
The person who the raspy voice belonged to was sitting right in the center of the room. It was a short old man, who sat cross-legged on a carpet. It was impossible to tell his exact age, but I judged that he was more than seventy years old. He didn’t have a single hair atop his head, and his teeth were yellow and uneven. However, instead of emitting some kind of stench, he smelled strangely sweet, like perfume.
There was a jar of water next to him, and the old man reached out to pick up the hose that was attached to it. He had probably been smoking a hookah alone before we interrupted him. The strange smell was probably also a result of it.
“So you’re back, stupid disciple. And you’ve brought guests.”
“Uh…” Seigen said, at a loss for words.
“Call me Geraff. I’ve given up on everything besides this name.”
“So Flue didn’t kill you?” Seigen asked, blinking in surprise.
“Yes, he did. As a mage, I’m completely dead. My Magic Circuits are all in shambles. My abilities now are worse than those of a Count-ranked child.”
“…It seems you’re as dismissive of your health as usual.” Flue complained in a small voice, seeing the old man smoke.
“Really? That’s what you take issue with? That doesn’t sound like something a mentor-killer would say.”
“As you can tell, my mentor is very good at getting people to hate him. If he wasn’t technically dead, the line of people waiting to take a stab at him will be longer than the ones in amusement parks.” Flueger admitted, covering his face with his hands.
In front of him, the old man who should have been dead took another drag on his hookah and smiled. Seeing this, Flue sighed.
“That’s why I ‘killed’ him. Specifically, I treated him as if he was dead. Then, I after I inherited his workshop, I went knocking on the gates of Albion with him.”
“Hahaha, the guards of Spirit Tomb Albion are generally very strict, but they don’t care much when you enter. In the early days, Survivors would come here to train, so there aren’t many restrictions.”
Since a large number of mages from all manner of backgrounds entered Albion to excavate precious materials, it made sense that the security required for entrance was relatively lax. That was also how the Clock Tower managed to send so many spies into Albion, proving my mentor’s theory.
“Wait, so…”
“Yes. Like I said back on the train, I hid in Albion until the situation cooled down.” Flue said with a shrug as if he was tired of explaining.
“Thank me all you want. I thought back then that an old withered tree like me would get to blossom again.”
“There are so many people out there who hate me for killing you before they could, you know?”
“And that’s why you’re a spellcaster and not a mage. …Well then, what are you trying to do with this team of people? Excavation is hardly as profitable as it used to be. Isn’t that right, Little Miss Edelfelt and young Lord of the El-Mellois?” The old man said, looking Luvia and my mentor with a sudden glint in his eyes.
“…For someone living in Spirit Tomb Albion, you seem to be quite knowledgeable about the world above.”
“Hahaha, my Magic Circuits might not work anymore, but I’m still a spellcaster at heart. Working hard in unconventional areas is the spellcaster way. Gathering information is one such area. I still don’t know why you’re here though. Especially not why my stupid disciple is with you. I know lots of people hate me, but I think the Edelfelt hyenas are above stealing from an old man like me. Right?”
“Geraff. Mentor.” Flue said. “I want to reach the Ancient Heart in twenty-three hours— no, we only have twenty-two left.”
“…Huh?”
The wrinkles on the old man’s tree bark-like face deepened.
“What? Has your time on the surface made you crazy? If you’ve got a curse on your brain, I can do you a favor and introduce you to an old friend of mine from the Department of Curses(Zigmarie).” He said, gesturing with his fingers around his temples(TN: There’s got to be a better way to describe this).
“I remember you saying once that you know a way to descend,” Flue said, not giving up. “You said that regular teams don’t need to go beyond the hundredth floor because they have no way of getting back, but there are plenty of ways to get down there.”
“I wasn’t being serious. I probably said that when I was drunk or something. If you really want to commit suicide, there’s gotta be an easier way to do that.”
The old man moved the hookah over and took another drag on it. He lazily twirled his finger about in the smoke, seeming to not care about his disciple’s request.
My mentor walked up to the old man.
“Tomorrow, a Grand Roll will be held in the Ancient Heart.”
“…Yes. It’s a meeting of the ridiculous folk who think they’ve found gold when they haven’t even seen glitter, isn’t it. I don’t care what they do to themselves or the world. I don’t care what depths they fall to. I don’t care about what your ‘Modern Magecraft’ is. I don’t mind being stuck in Spirit Tomb Albion, as long as I don’t have to witness this madness.”
“…In that case, I think this will satisfy you!” Luvia interjected, proudly stepping forward. She had thrust an expensive-looking jewel necklace at the old man. She probably brought it along because she reasoned it would be useful in Albion as well.
The old man gingerly picked up the necklace and examined it for a few moments before handing it back.
“Alright… But will anyone buy something like this down here? You Edelfelts should really reflect on your habit of obsessing over catalysts.”
“……!”
“Um… Old man…” Flue said, somewhat conflicted. As he was about to interrupt, I couldn’t help but interrupt as well.
“Sir?”
My mentor was bowing.
His long hair hung from his ears like the feathers of a damp raven, concealing his expression.
“…What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry. I have nothing to give you in return,” my mentor said, not looking up. “I have things that cannot be traded for with money. I’m sure you do as well. But I can’t just come here out of the blue to ruin your pride. So this is all I can do.”
“Has anyone ever told you that Lords shouldn’t bow to others?”
“Yes. I’ve been scolded many times, including by people who I respect. I know I’m not worthy of being a Lord. This foolish solution is the only one I can think of.”
“Instead of wasting time bowing to an old man like me, why don’t you try breaking into the labyrinth?”
“Flue brought me here,” my mentor said, still bowing. “I haven’t known him for long, but I trust him. And he judges that your assistance is necessary.”
“……”
The old man was silent for a moment. He let go of the hose of the hookah and stared intently at my mentor.
“…You’ve got a keen eye.”
“A keen eye?”
The old man ignored the echoed question and continued.
“A Lord, huh. A Lord of the Clock Tower bowed to me?”
I didn’t know why, but instead of floating upwards like smoke, the old man’s words sank to the ground.
“Oi, disciple.” The old man said to Flue. “There is a way to go down from the Great Magic Circuit. I never said you’ll be in one piece when you get there, though. You know that, right?”
“I’ve got a job to do. I have no choice.”
Flue’s almost mindless response made the old man frown.
“A job, you say?” He said, rubbing his chin. “Well, you’ve certainly sold your life for a low price.”
“Now’s not the time for this. Every second we spend here is a precious second wasted.”
“Ha, says the ones who barged into my house. Well then, are you all prepared?”
Even I understood what that meant.
“…Is what we have now enough, Mr. Geraff?” My mentor asked, after taking a few seconds to react.
“Fine, I’ll check. Since you came to find me, you’ve brought it with you, right?”
“If you’re asking for the thing I had with me last time…”
“Just give it to me.”
The old man grabbed the bag that Flue handed him and inspected its contents.
“Hmm. It’s so old.”
Then, he slowly stood up and made an announcement after giving his disciple a chittering explanation.
“Wait here for half an hour or so.”
“Half an hour!? Didn’t Flue say that we only have twenty-three hours left?!” Seigen shouted.
“If you wait half an hour, you’ll save half a day. You’d better thank me with tears in your eyes the next time you see me.”
With that, the old man who called himself Geraff tossed the cloth at the doorway behind him and walked calmly away.
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Originally Posted by Comun
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