“…Wake up.”
“Wake up!”
“I said everyone, wake up!”
My head hurts. As the people who woke up grabbed their temples, they realized that the place they had opened their eyes in was a facility they had never seen before.
Among them, those with quicker wits stiffened as they recalled the last moments before they collapsed.
Captivated by unknown assailants, and awakening in an unfamiliar space.
It was all too familiar in this world. Especially for those who had lived in the crime-ridden slums, this was a common occurrence.
They must have been caught as test subjects by a mad mage, or modified and sold off as slaves.
As the sense of their fate began to sink in, a sob threatened to escape.
“It’s too early to despair!”
The voice of the young man who had awakened them rang out.
“It seems the ones who caught us were a bit careless. They didn’t recover the magic engraved drive I had. We can escape.”
Claiming he was originally a distributor of illegal cracked magic engraved drives, the young man began distributing them to others.
While persuading everyone to escape together, someone cautiously asked him.
“But….”
“Aren’t we just going to get killed by the mages outside?”
This was a lament interspersed with self-deprecation from people who had lived their lives being trampled upon. The young man readily acknowledged that possibility.
“That might very well be the case. The trivial magic we can use with the magic engraved drives probably won’t even amuse real mages.”
“But everyone, what’s the difference between dying now and slowly withering away at the hands of those mad mages? Is a life lived praying for someone else to die in your stead a proper life?”
The young man preached against the horrible experiments of the mages and their broken morality, proclaiming that he would prefer to rise and die rather than live on his knees.
Having shared the extra magic engraved drives with others, the young man slowly surveyed the area.
“I know you all find it hard to trust me easily. After all, I could just be using you as bait to escape on my own. So I’ll go out first to draw their attention.”
Leaving behind the instructions to escape when chaos erupted outside, the young man stepped out the door.
In the solemn atmosphere, the remaining individuals awaited the signal for rebellion.
Unbeknownst to them, the young man had already gone around three slave storage units, stirring the same sentiments.
*
Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing─!
A warning sound that scratched the eardrums. Lights flashing red. It was an alarm notifying everyone of the slaves’ escape.
The faction leader, Tarknia, nervously switched between screens. It seemed slaves had begun to escape in droves from storage unit three.
He recalled the supplier in charge of storage unit three. A small organization from that insignificant city called Etna.
Determined to make them pay the next time he encountered them, he summoned his subordinates.
“Wrap it up quickly. Losing an arm or leg is fine, but keep the head intact. We need them alive for our main base.”
His subordinates were skilled combat mages. Masters of magic that controlled human biological electricity to knock out someone’s consciousness.
A bunch of no-good street rats who couldn’t even use proper magic could be subdued in less than five minutes.
While there were sometimes those who fiercely resisted the neural manipulation magic with tenacious will, ultimately, by physically striking them down to crush their spirit, they would be made to submit to the magic.
This level of chaos was manageable for him. Tarknia stifled a bit of irritation and sat down.
I can’t rot in this dead-end job forever. I will return to the main base one day…
Wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!!
The noise rang out again.
Tarknia’s expression twisted as he awaited reports on the situation’s conclusion. Alarms began to echo continuously, indicating that escapes had started from other storage units as well.
“Was there a clever one among them…?”
Those with a bit of cunning knew that the more people tried to escape, the easier it became to flee.
The sight of them joining together in an escape, not only from the storage units they were isolated in but others as well.
Though this was merely a temporary depot and they hadn’t invested much in the facilities, seeing them break down barriers so easily indicated that there was likely a wild mage among them.
Wild mages, who had never properly learned magic but instinctively manipulated magic power, were indeed treasures highly valued by the Torres Tower.
“Such incompetent fools. When supplying wild mages, they should either use stronger sedatives or just sever their limbs completely.”
Tarknia gritted his teeth. With a large-scale escape involving a wild mage, it’s inevitable that at least one or two would succeed in escaping.
He envisioned the future where he would be reprimanded by the old fools in the main base. A surge of anger began to fill Tarknia’s entire body.
What was it? Cretone? I’ll be sure to report this to the main base and make them taste humiliation.
For now, he had to report the situation to the main base. Losing a precious wild mage was on a completely different scale compared to a few escaped slaves.
He pressed the emergency signal transmitter.
And then, nothing happened.
In perplexity, a strange voice flowed in.
“May I ask you a question?”
“Who are you…?”
Magic power circulates. The dormant body comes to life. Enhanced optic nerves allow him to spot the intruder amidst his crimson-tinged vision.
In truth, the intruder wasn’t hiding at all.
“Is this the office of Tarknia, faction leader of Torres?”
He merely stood calmly blocking the door and asked.
Tarknia sensed discomfort. He was undoubtedly ‘there,’ but couldn’t pinpoint exactly how he looked.
Even though he was directly looking at him, the figure remained blurry in his sight. Was it a type of camouflage magic?
Camouflage magic, which bends visible light, was primarily used by light attribute factions to conceal oneself.
Has he been hiding his appearance while destroying the communication devices with the main base, taking advantage of the slaves’ escape?
Tarknia assessed the intruder’s level.
High-level camouflage could perfectly blend the caster into the surrounding scenery.
But the intruder was merely a blur of form; he could certainly feel his existence. Therefore, this person’s mastery of camouflage magic was roughly at the incompetent second-rate level.
Yet still, an inexplicable unease settled in.
Though the intruder’s figure was indistinct, the black, plank-like object he held was extremely clear.
“Are you Tarknia?”
Now somewhat positioned high enough that it was rare for him to participate in direct combat, Tarknia was a practical mage who had worked his way up from the bottom.
He recognized the weapon the intruder was holding. A high-frequency blade.
An invention of a faction that deals with sound. The premise was that by compressing sound to a level undetectable by most lifeforms and storing it in the blade, the cutting power would be enhanced.
High-frequency blades are mass-produced, but they aren’t cheap enough for just anybody to own. Did he catch a whiff from another tower?
However, he was a fool. If he sneaked in, he should’ve ambushed me.
Tarknia activated the magic engraved drive implanted in his right hand. One for each finger.
The accumulated electric spells were unleashed in an instant. Chains of electricity, five layers thick, rushed toward the intruder.
At the same time, he input the next spell into the computational chip embedded in his brain. Tarknia informed his closely connected subordinates that an intruder had appeared.
Even if he had preemptively blocked the main connection with the main base by destroying communication devices, it wouldn’t be possible to block short-range communication between brain chips awarded only to the Torres faction’s refiners.
But no answer returned.
“Is this what you’re looking for?”
Thud. The intruder threw something.
Five chips, still dripping with blood.
This meant that before they even had the chance to send communications, they had been killed with a precise strike aimed at their brain chips.
In the next moment, Tarknia’s reaction was one born from instincts gathered over years of battlefield experience. He threw his body to the side with all his might.
A straight line of black crossed the space where Tarknia had been standing just moments before. The high-frequency blade had been thrown while distracting Tarknia’s attention with the brain chips.
The black blade pierced through the control panel of the surveillance equipment installed on the office wall, shattering it to pieces.
Tarknia shouted in panic.
“Which tower sent you? Plauros? Tifuen? From the Thunderbolt itself!”
His scream was also an attempt to buy some time. Using electric manipulation magic to somehow revive the circuits connected to the microphones in the control panel and report the situation here.
His calculation was that the mages dispatched to suppress the slave situation would hear the sounds of battle occurring in the office and move to rescue him.
“Which one would you prefer?”
An absurd question returned.
“If you have any wishes, please speak. I will make sure to comply.”
“You bastard─!!”
A provocation, asking how he wished to die. Tarknia began unleashing prepared spells.
First spell: Neural Disruption.
The intruder remained unresponsive, as if it was obvious. If it had worked, the overload on his nerves should’ve caused him to collapse on the spot.
The second spell similarly manipulated neural functions, but the target was Tarknia himself, rather than the intruder. He enhanced his senses sharply to read the flow of air, supercharging his reflexes.
The third spell provided an electric enhancement limited to the modified parts. A menacing yellow electricity crackled ominously.
With that, it was one breath. Tarknia leaped forward.
Since the intruder had thrown his weapon, he used this gamble. Relying on his modified body and enhanced reflexes for close combat.
If I brush against him with the electric current, he’ll be paralyzed. That means victory!
Closing the distance to the intruder took less than a second. Feeling victory instinctively, Tarknia stared into the intruder’s face.
Their eyes met closely enough that they could see each other’s irises. The blurry figure became clearer.
Is he smiling?
The intruder’s magic engraved drive activated. It was not a threatening spell. A water sphere.
It was a basic water element spell that shot compressed water.
While it might have been a different story for a skilled mage, for a low-output, temporary spell stored in a drive, it could only manage to push someone back and leave bruises—it was weak magic.
However.
Electricity coursed through Tarknia’s entire body. He tried to pull back his magic power hastily, but it was too late. The moment the water sphere made contact with him, it splattered and drenched him.
The yellow electricity surged through parts of him that weren’t modified. Tarknia screamed.
And just at that moment, the intruder, Orthes, finally moved his feet.
He quickly retrieved the blade embedded in the wall. Before Tarknia, pushed back by the water sphere, could even touch the ground, he swung the sword to sever his right arm.
The high-frequency blade didn’t fit back in its sheath and traced a dark line as it continued.
First, he removed the right arm that housed the magic engraved drive, the most dangerous weapon. Next came the legs. He sliced away his agility.
Thud──
By the time Tarknia crashed to the ground, he had already lost one limb.
“What… what are you?” Tarknia trembled in fear. Though it was a brief clash, he understood without a doubt.
That man was not a mage.
If the blurriness of his figure was a result of camouflage magic, it should have weakened or at least felt the flow of magic during such a violent combat.
However, he felt no flow of magic from that person at all.
If he could control the flow of magic perfectly, he wouldn’t need to go through the hassle of overpowering him like this.
It was a level only the elders of the Torres faction or the Tower Master could showcase. He would have been killed without even realizing it.
The fact that the magic he had pulled out using the magic engraved drive was the most basic level of magic too, explained the reason.
Most mass-produced magic engraved drives could hold very little magic power.
Thus, any magic above a certain level couldn’t be executed with just the magic contained in the drive, and the user had to directly inject their magic power.
As Tarknia desperately tried to figure out the intruder’s identity, Orthes approached him.
Smirk.
The intruder, backlit by a red reverse glow, looked down at him with a grin. Tarknia closed his eyes.
“It seems you’re finally ready to talk.”
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