Prologue:
The ocean’s surface glittered in the light of the sun like something precious.
It was far from the clear water you'd see at something like a resort. Even at noon, it was a blue-black color, waves swelling and bursting, writhing like snakes. Hundreds and thousands of ships came and went every day, so this was no surprise. Even though the locals had built an advanced water treatment system, sludge still snuck its way in from the old factories nearby.
To me, it felt like it was bustling with life. The area continued to thrive, not as a tourist destination, but rather as a commercial area full of various people competing with each other.
The sea had a strong smell to it, probably because of the flourishing nutrients and seaweed.
It reminded me of a delicate balance, where the two sides of the scale swung about precariously. In this context, the scales could be a metaphor for the ecosystem. The scales themselves would not be affected if the balance was disrupted, but the tiny creatures that rested on its plates could easily go extinct.
…But that was enough about the future from a pirate who didn’t have one. “Oi, kid!” Came a rough voice.
Oil drums covered with grime littered the shallows behind me. The writing printed on their sides had been carefully stripped. On top of one of them sat a well-tanned young man.
As was typical of the region around the Strait of Malacca, his face was rather racially ambiguous. That was to be expected in a hub of exchange between various countries. Though its history was often tragic, the expressions on the faces of the average passerby were that of great resilience.
Indeed, as with this young man, he held a great sense of purpose and had a toned body.
His dirty polyester shirt probably used to be white, but it was now beige, and the stench of sweat came off in a pungent wave. There was a belt at his waist with a pistol and a small bottle of liquor tucked into it.
"Is something the matter?"
"Is something the matter my ass. We're about to head off. You gotta be ready to ride."
I looked to the mangrove trees swaying in the shallows beside us. Those trees were unique to the area, and could grow well even in salt water. Its lush green leaves stretched up into the sky, while its roots expanded into the sand like tentacles below them. Three motorboats had been moored to the interweaving branches.
Around a dozen people were already sitting there, and they handed me some coffee in a misshapen metal mug as I made my way over. All of them looked like the sort you would cross the street to avoid, and they carried assault rifles and submachine guns across their shoulders.
The regular person probably associated the word “pirate” with billowing sails and the Age of Discovery, but the pirates in the Strait of Malacca today were no more majestic than a ragtag band of young men with a few highly maneuverable motorboats.
One of them walked up to me and spat at my feet before grabbing me by the shoulders. My hat nearly slipped off in the process, so I rushed to put it back on before he spoke.
“You said your name’s Yarg, right?”
“…Y-yes.” I said, nodding as the young man narrowed his eyes.
“Are you from the Cafe?”
In this context, “Cafe” did not mean “coffee shop”.
It was the codename of an underground casino on Batam Island. Gambling used to be legal here, but the laws were repealed due to security concerns a year or two ago. As a result, those who had managed to escape from the authorities opened an underground casino, which was commonly referred to as the Cafe.
The criminals gathered here all came from there.
Of course, there were pirate groups out there with fixed members. But this form of loose organization that would recruit new members whenever they needed it was very common in the modern day. They might even start hiring online soon. Or, perhaps they were already doing so, and I just was unaware.
The tanned young man before me sized me up, as if I was on sale and he was estimating my price.
In his eyes, I was a mere child, frail, less than 160cm tall, and with a dirty rag tucked in my collar. Though, he probably didn’t care about my age, as the pirates here all seemed to be teenagers.
“You’re a spellcaster, right? D’you know how to do ’enhancement’?”
“…Is that why you hired me?”
A sour blast of the smell of alcohol hit me as the young man walked even closer. “Answer me!”
“Yes, I can do that. I inherited some of my family’s magecraft… but not a lot of it.”
“Hmph, that’s good enough. You’re some third child of the family that no one cares about anyway, aren’t you?”
“……”
“Not answering? Eh, whatever, I’m not asking for your life story anyway.”
“Are the others all mages?”
“Don’t be stupid. I didn’t know mages can be this dumb. Of course they aren’t. We’re the only ones. I’ll be glad if we meet another one, though.” The young man said with a shrug.
Mages.
Even I knew that those fantastical people actually existed.
As they say, like attracts like. The shadowy parts of the world are often connected. Pirates were closer to mages that hid behind the veil of reality than one may think. Of course, most people involved were unaware of the existence of mages, but as the young man said, mages could find each other if they were lucky.
“…There’s someone I want to kidnap. I must get my hands on them, dead or alive. …Hahaha, you’re not officially part of us yet, so I can’t tell you their name.”
“Huh, how important is this guy if you’re hiring a spellcaster for the job?”
“Well…”
The young man paused for a moment, as if for dramatic effect.
“They’re known as the Consultant.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. This guy appeared around here around a year ago and gathered all the local pirate gangs into a giant empire with themself as the leader. They clearly used magecraft to do it, though,” the young man said, gritting his teeth in frustration. “They’ve located a sunken ship, and are manipulating fishermen and local kids to fish up treasure. Some of the treasure has probably been used to bribe government officials. They never show their face, but they’re famous around here. For obvious reasons, no one’s been able to catch the guy.”
I see, so this consultant person was a force to be reckoned with.
Places with an abundance of sunken ships inevitably drew in pirates, and it didn’t take much skill to dredge treasure from the ocean floor. The hard part was locating the ships and selling them for a good price.
The nickname “the Consultant” fit the situation well. I got the impression that this was not just a petty crime, but a business model embedded into the community.
“But now, opportunity strikes…an infamous Clock Tower mage just came to Singapore.” The young man said, his face suddenly twisting with disgust.
“The Clock Tower? You mean, the one in England?”
“Exactly, the Mages’ Association of damn limeys,” he spat.
The areas around Malaysia and Singapore were former British colonies. Though they had gained independence long ago and experienced significant economic growth, most of the residents still had lingering resentments.
This was true for the World of Magecraft as well.
The Clock Tower, based in London, was the most prominent branch of the Mages’ Association.
“Isn’t the Clock Tower the biggest magecraft organization in the world?”
“In terms of sheer size… sure, maybe. But in terms of the number of members, the Manor’s probably larger.”
“The Manor?”
“It’s a bit like the Clock Tower of the East, in the sense that they’re both magecraft organizations. But other than the fact that they both use Magic Circuits as a basis, they couldn’t be more different.”
I had heard that many different types of magecraft existed because of the unique history and culture of different regions of the world. For example, I knew that Curse Magecraft was a popular technique in the Middle East. Considering the population of Asia, it also made sense that there would be more people in the East than the West.
“All kinds of magecraft coexist here near the Strait of Malacca. Thought Magecraft, curses, western magecraft… you name it. But this Consultant person is clearly a western mage. In the West, the Clock Tower’s biggest principle has never changed. They think mystery should never be revealed.”
“……”
I was silent.
I understood this to be true.
“So, basically, this guy’s being so noticeable with their magecraft that even the Clock Tower’s stepped in,” the young man said, laughing. “Probably because they’re so anxious, the Clock Tower’s network of information's a mess. They haven’t even found the Consultant’s location yet. All the work and trouble we’ve gone through will finally pay off. We might get the chance to sell the Consultant’s whereabouts to the Clock Tower and kill two birds with one stone. What do you think? Sounds like a good deal, huh?”
The young man had an amused sneer on his face, perfectly fitting into the stereotype of a pirate.
“So, we’re gonna ambush them?”
I glanced to the side to see the rest of the pirates yawning and lazing about, probably because they had run out of coffee. Some were even napping on the rocks. It appeared that they had completely adopted this place as their home.
“What we need to do now is to find strength in numbers. If the Consultant’s not a particularly skilled mage, a surprise attack should do the trick, but I’m glad to have extra men just in case.”
“…I see.”
I understood, probably because I had nothing to do with this Consultant person. The young man was fully aware that a spy could ruin the operation before it even started, so he was quite careful.
“Oh, but. Before that, I have to ask. What’s the Clock Tower mage you mentioned earlier like?”
“……”
This time, it was the young man’s turn to be at a loss for words.
“It’ll do you no good to ask! That man’s a devil, and he has nothing to do with our operation. Knowing too much is bad for you.”
His words were not an empty threat.
Unintentionally “sharing” too many things was like asking to be set on fire. The young man had recruited a nobody from the Cafe for this exact reason. Nothing bad would come of a one-time relationship. Even if I did well in this operation, going forward, we would still be no more than strangers.
“I’m still curious, though. This has something to do with my job, right? If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll leave right now.”
“You…!”
For an instant, hostility flashed in his eyes. Then, he sighed and relented. “That mage is known as the Plunderer.”
“The plunderer? So, a pirate?”
“Don’t compare us to him! We pirates plunder money, treasure, maybe lives sometimes. But that guy plunders things worth more to mages than their own souls!”
He spoke as if he was describing something that truly terrified him.
Something more important to mages than their own souls… In other words, something that was destined from birth. It was what differentiated mages from spellcasters, and what mages dedicated their lives to.
“…That bastard destroys other people’s magecraft, and then takes it for himself.”
Just as he told me this, the sound of an explosion rattled my eardrums. Two of the three motorboats had been engulfed in balls of orange fire.
That wasn’t even the strangest thing. Even after such a giant explosion, the pirates around us remained asleep.
“…What?!”
The dumbfounded young man exclaimed, springing up in alarm. He reached for the gun at his belt and observed the surroundings.
“—There!”
He pulled out his pistol and fired, bullets striking sparks as they came into contact with the rocks on the beach.
Then, a tall silhouette appeared silently from the shadows of the mangroves. How was this possible!?
“What magecraft did you use to do that!”
“…Sadly, nothing impressive.” Said the silhouette.
It was a long-haired man who might have been some kind of European. He was around thirty years old, his face remarkable if only for his intense expression of distaste. His outfit, which consisted of a linen blazer over a shirt, appeared casual, but his expensive-looking leather shoes kept a subtle balance so that it wasn't too casual.
“I only cast a simple ignition spell on the engines. I’ve done something similar before. But because my power alone is insufficient, the part of the spell that's meant to delay the fire didn’t function. I planned on having the explosions happen later. …Oh, and as for your friends, it’s just the effect of sleeping pills. I’ve enhanced them with magecraft, of course. It’s one of the only things I can do well.”
Perhaps because of the fire, the man seemed to wince in pain. It was as if he had encountered a truth that he did not want to face once again.
“…The Plunderer…!” The young man said, staring up at him as his lips trembled. The mage of the Clock Tower slowly lowered his gaze.
“I see, so you’ve already discovered the Consultant’s location.” He said, pointing at the leather bag hanging at the young man’s waist. “Penang, right?”
“How—?!”
Though the young man looked as if he was about to collapse, the mage continued to point things out mercilessly.
“You always carry that bag with you, so I figured that it’s your Mystic Code. You used the same kind of magecraft when you gathered reconnaissance about me, right? It’s probably a type of local magecraft. You also pretended to ask me something, but you wouldn’t need to if you’re possessed, like a Tongji or a Dukun. In that case, your bag contains…”
“Shut up!” The young man shouted, pulling out his bag. “
Bite and curse!”
That was an incantation. A recited phrase to activate the user’s Magic Circuits and manifest mystery.
Immediately, something leaped out from inside it.
“…!”
I froze, forgetting to breathe for a moment.
Because the thing that had flown out—
—Was the head of a woman, compressed to the size of a fist and enveloped in resentment and animosity.
“A severed head…!”
“…A shrunken head, to be more precise. Human heads are surprisingly small once you remove their skulls!”
I didn’t know it then, but “Penanggalan” was the word people used in the Malaysian Peninsula to describe a monster or those who controlled them.
The monster in this scenario was the flying head of a woman, which landed and bit down on the mage’s shoulder.
He dodged so that it didn't get his artery, but blood still seeped into the fabric of his shirt.
Despite this, the Clock Tower mage’s did not falter. Or, at least he only winced a little bit.
“Your magecraft is a type of necromancy centered around this shrunken head. It’s closer to Western magecraft than Thought Magecraft. Is this because of the cultural mixing of the Strait of Malacca?”
His reasoning made the young pirate’s face grow steadily paler.
“According to the legend, there are also internal organs attached to this head. Have you scaled down the entire spell, including the process of drying it? In that case, the excess resentment of the corpse will gradually fade as it sheds weight. On top of that, your incantation was in English, so it was probably changed three or four generations ago as a result of colonization. Your spell has roots in tradition and aims to honor the dead while reckoning with their sins. But what you use now is nothing but a cruel shadow of what it used to be.”
I could see exactly how those words struck their mark.
In an instant, the pirate’s face turned dark red.
He must have been humiliated.
At a single glance, the hard work of generations of people had just been brutally labeled as worthless. It must have hit the mark, as the young man could not deny any of these accusations.
“Is this… what the Clock Tower Lord who's made countless Prides and Brands is capable of?”
“There’s no need to flatter me.”
I couldn’t see clearly against the light, but there seemed to be a hint of sorrow on the mage’s face.
“Most of my students are from prestigious families anyway, and only one of them has achieved the rank of Brand.”
“What do you mean ‘only one’? Isn’t one plenty…?!” He complained in a muffled voice. It was indeed an astounding achievement.
Brand was functionally the highest rank a mage could achieve in the Clock Tower, and Pride was the one beneath it. Normally, these were only achievable with years of hard work and incredible talent.
However, this mage who was known as the Plunderer taught young people in such a way that his students had overtaken the top rungs of the ladder.
The young man grabbed a rifle that was resting on an oil drum nearby.
“But I've heard you yourself aren't that impressive! Your students may be great, but my shrunken head still managed to bite you!”
“…Unfortunately for me, you’re right.”
“Then you shoot too, Yarg!”
As he shouted that, something was launched from the gun in his hand. It was not just a regular bullet.
As the Clock Tower mage had so eloquently put, the young pirate was a necromancer. The bullet had been coated with the lingering resentment of the dead. Even if the Clock Tower mage used defensive magecraft to defend against bullets, the resentment would still make it through.
I had to step in.
“Wha— What!?”
At first, it was impossible for the young pirate to know what he saw.
“What the…?”
The young man’s eyes were wide with shock.
That was because his bullets had been blocked by a laughing box with eyes inside a birdcage.
“Yarg! You betrayed me!?”
“I haven’t betrayed you.”
The young man raised his bag again. Hidden inside it was another shrunken head, this time with its eyes blindfolded.
“
Bite and curse!”
As he spoke the incantation, the binding around the shrunken head dissolved into innumerable scraps of fabric, revealing the void inside it. Spirits of the dead spewed forth from the rift.
I heard once that blocking the eyes and mouth was a way to prevent Magical Energy from leaking out in certain types of magecraft. It felt typical of a cautious pirate to have tricks up his sleeve.
However, in the moment, I was overwhelmed by fear as I faced the swarm of spirits.
A wave of terror gushed from my stomach to my heart. It was something that I couldn't overcome no matter how many times I faced the dead. Even so, I gritted my teeth and looked up.
Underneath the rag around my neck, a pendant glowed as it ceased to function as a Mystic Code.
Of course, it was not my mentor who made it, but a student of the El-Melloi Classroom, Flat Escardos.
“You’re…just some girl with a hood on?!” The young man shouted in disbelief. At the same time, the box in my hands also changed.
“First stage restraint, rescinded!”
The birdcage contorted and transformed into something that didn't belong in the daylight. It had a blade longer than my arm, curved like the crescent moon. Strange eye-like patterns adorned its handle.
It was a scythe(Grim Reaper).
The edge of the blade clashed with the spirits as the boats continued to burn around us. It not only cleaved the spirits it came into contact with cleanly, but also eliminated any behind them with the aftershock of the blow.
It was as if the scythe removed their ties to the world of the living.
“W-what is that!?”
I walked slowly toward the dumbfounded young man, unsteady on his feet from what he had witnessed.
There was no need for me to conceal my identity anymore.
“…I haven’t betrayed you. I was my mentor’s disciple from the very beginning.”
Bullets kept on being fired from the rifle, but my enhanced body was capable of matching their speed.
Out of the twenty-eight total bullets shot, I dealt only with the seven that were close enough to hit my mentor and I.
I leapt forward, converting the force of the bursts of gunpowder and blasts of flame into my thrust. The young man fell backwards as his rifle was cut in half.
After confirming his incapacitation, I put my hat back on. Flat's Mystic Code had transformed it into a sunhat, and it'd be preferable not to lose it. This was a dangerous place, after all.
“So you used large amounts of Magical Energy to reverse the force of energy and knock him unconscious? It’s a bit like the Eastern technique of attacking someone from afar by triggering their vagal reflex.”
“Please don’t be so reckless again, Sir.”
“I put some spirit-repelling incense on my shirt, so it didn’t bite particularly hard.”
It was common knowledge that fights between mages were won or lost before they even began. However, I couldn’t accept it. No matter how well-prepared my mentor was, he still could have died in the beginning of the fight.
In the first place, my mentor shouldn’t have let the young man strike first, but this was a bad habit of his. By that, I meant that he couldn’t stop himself from taking apart other people’s magecraft.
“That’s why they call you the Plunderer, isn’t it?”
“I don’t like that nickname, but it does scare people.”
“…Sir, you look troubled again.”
“Oh.” My mentor muttered, slapping his cheeks. “I must say though, your codename is too lazy. You just used your name backwards.”
“…Sorry.” I said, awkwardly looking away.
His name was Lord El-Melloi II.
And I was not Yarg, but Gray.
Gray, not black or white.
For the past couple of years, I had been Lord El-Melloi II’s disciple, though I didn’t really live up to the role.
Of course, the disguise and fake backstory were to secretly approach them as a fellow pirate. Even though I didn’t look the same with my disguise, I felt like he would still sense something was off as we talked. For that reason, I had gone to great lengths trying to think like a pirate. I was also nervous when I put my mentor’s homemade sleeping pills into the coffee because I didn’t know if I'd been caught or not.
What had the purpose of all this been?
“Well then,” my mentor said, taking out a small vial and turning around.
The blistering fire had gradually calmed down, and the scent of the sea came back to wash over that of the gasoline. Dazzling sunlight continued to shine from the sky, and the foamy waves kept lapping at the shore. He had been right— the sea had nothing to do with a mages’ dispute. It quickly returned to its usual state.
Compared to what had just happened, the calmness was almost ironic.
I could hear the sound of crashing waves. First it was distant, and then it was close by. After that, it was close, and then far again.
My mentor looked down at the young man, dazed from the homebrew of sleeping drugs.
“Could you please tell us where the Consultant is?”
*
—The story of our adventure began several days ago.
Originally Posted by Reign
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