There was no news quite like a lie.
No bites came. I had meticulously scattered the Grand Magic—they should have sensed it. They couldn’t possibly be so incompetent as to miss this. Yet, there was no response.
“Laaate⋯⋯.”
The time Yuna had bought for me was completely used up. Now, the Tournament of 『Courage』 block A finals was right around the corner. Three hours away to be exact.
I sat in an abandoned warehouse, idly swinging my legs in Karen’s form.
Were they avoiding this because they thought it was a trap? I had assumed they would come regardless, even if it was one⋯⋯ was Duke Red Flavor’s operations sturdier than I had anticipated? Did they already have a Inherited Metamorphosis ability?
I couldn’t be sure.
Or maybe⋯⋯ we were locked in a standoff, each side playing a game of chicken until the very last moment.
The inability for us to meet was significant. If we were to sit across from each other and face each other in battle, I was confident in my ability to read my opponent’s intentions completely.
But I had never faced Duke Red Flavor in person. Judging from the way he kept throwing pawns—like Roderus and the serial killer—after me, I could vaguely tell they were the type who really despised stepping into the spotlight themselves.Evil God-chan was by Cicel’s side. Why her and not someone else? Because she was the one most deeply connected to me. At least communication-wise.
Evil God-chan’s role was that of a biological communicator.
While her signal couldn’t cover the vast distance between the Academy and the Elmest Estate, the reception worked flawlessly within the same city.
The moment I was (not) kidnapped, I would transmit a signal to Evil God-chan. She would then relay my last known location to Cicel⋯⋯ that was the rough plan.
Although my mind was filled with thoughts, I wasn’t anxious.
Anxiety was an emotion tied to doubt about achieving a happy ending. I had already gathered enough cards, and she couldn’t escape. If anyone should feel anxious, it was the one facing me.
Really, are you sure you don’t want it? Wouldn’t you like to take a bite of this sweet cake and learn its secret?
Even if there was a razor blade hidden between the layers, she’d still want to taste it⋯⋯
“──You’re the wizard who unleashed the illusions upon the city?”
Come on.
===============================================================
She could see her target’s back.
The red hair bobbing to the rhythm of a hummed tune belonged to a figure perched atop abandoned warehouse materials. Her name was Karen. Sunlight streamed through the cracks in the damaged roof like a spotlight. Onto a performer on stage.
Was it real, or just another illusion?
She wouldn’t know until her dagger found its mark. She couldn’t tell them apart. The wizard’s illusion-humans were disturbingly lifelike.
Though the temptation to plunge her blade into that slender waist and transform her into a chaotic mess was overwhelming⋯⋯ she knew how to be patient. Father’s orders always came first.
Shock, confusion, and surprise were vulnerabilities. Even the slightest hesitation offered an edge. Initiating a conversation with a rattled opponent already had a small advantage.
So.
The Red Duke’s limb, Faceless, moved her limbs carefully, each step ensuring her presence remained undetectable.
Then, as if to show appearing behind Karen was nothing difficult, she spoke casually as if she had been there all along.
“You’re the wizard who unleashed the illusions upon the city?”
“Ah, you’re here?”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Despite being addressed abruptly from behind, Karen showed no sign of surprise. Instead, Karen responded with a delight that suggested she had been anticipating her arrival.
She swiveled around in her seat. A smile as beautiful as a blue rose, a stillness as tranquil as an untouched lake. Though it was a brief encounter, Faceless could instantly form a conclusion.
She was the troublesome kind.
“You’re the serial killer who publicly killed my illusions, aren’t you? Thanks to you, I had a bit of a headache. Spent about ten minutes figuring out how to resolve it.”
“An interesting description⋯⋯ so, did you manage to come up with a solution?“
“Eung. I came up with a perfect plan.”
“Seems like you’re dying to boast about it⋯⋯ if you want to tell me that badly, why don’t you share it with me?”
The question asked out of genuine interest. After all, what kind of fool would explain all of their plans and secrets to a potential enemy?
But Karen immediately opened her mouth.
“Your ability is to modify human bodies. When certain conditions are met⋯⋯ you can freely manipulate muscles and compress bones, enough to reshape a middle-aged woman in her forties into Karen’s form.”
“⋯⋯How did you figure it out?”
Really, how had she figured it out?
Until now, this trick had never been discovered. Everyone else had made the wrong assumptions such as disguises through magic or the use of doppelgangers, and they had all missed the core truth entirely.
It should have been impossible to deduce from appearances alone.
Karen spoke, mimicking the gesture of slicing into a steak.
“I did some dissections.”
“You cut open the bodies?”
“Eung. Their internal structures were bizarrely distorted. The quantity of bones and muscles was blatantly mismatched for their age and gender—it couldn’t be dismissed as just torture.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
Faceless felt a subtle chill creep through her. It wasn’t fear—she had eradicated that emotion long ago. No, this sensation was a recognition of danger.
Dissection⋯⋯ that made sense.
Though it was a taboo because it counted as a form of desecration of the dead, it happened secretly from time to time. Desperate for answers, some might resort to cutting open the corpses or something.
It was especially common among Dark Wizards, so it wasn’t particularly shocking.
But the reasoning process—the ability to detect internal distortions simply by recognizing discrepancies in age and gender proportions—required data.
Data gathered meticulously by dissecting numerous bodies of different ages and genders, and cataloging their variations.
To Faceless, the pile of junk that Karen was seated upon momentarily resembled a mountain of skulls. With a single statement, Karen had unveiled her history of mass murders and autopsies.
“⋯⋯How many people have you killed?”
“What are you saying all of a sudden? The friends I’ve sent across the Styx River wouldn’t even total ten. Don’t make such unreasonably baseless accusations.”
“Then that means you have separate executioners doing the dirty work?”
“I understand your misunderstanding, but I knew this simply because I’m too smart. information and computational power, one can even reconstruct the contents of a completely burned book.”
It was nonsense.
“Shall we continue⋯⋯ I’ve seen records of you approaching my illusion friends. You deliberately got close to them and stabbed their spleens with a dagger first. Seems it’s not an ability you can use from far away, huh?”
“Well, maybe.”
“Then it makes sense why you crept in here⋯⋯ like an assassin. If stabbing up close is your trigger, of course you’d develop assassin-like skills.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
It was still fine. Everything was fine. Faceless reassured herself. Her ability wasn’t just that. As long as her most critical secret remained hidden──
“──Of course, this isn’t everything, right? Now, how were you able to escape without getting caught all this time? And how can you stand before me, alone, with such confidence? Would you like to hear an interesting hypothesis about how that’s possible?”
“Did you call me out here just to host this quiz show?”
“This isn’t not your body⋯⋯ is it? It belongs to someone else, doesn’t it? Your ability actually includes 『Remote Control 』. Just like how I control puppets with illusions, you’re a『Puppeteer』 controlling the people you stab.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
She had been exposed.
In a location far from the warehouse, Faceless’s true body swallowed hard.
Her secret had been revealed so easily.
Metamorphosis was a power that defied conventional understanding. Predicting someone else’s Metamorphosis was nearly impossible because every single one of them was based on absurd conditions and unpredictable capabilities.
There was no academic field or school for systematically studying and recording Metamorphosis either. Because it would just be useless speculation—empty conjecture with no practical application.
But how had this woman figured it out so easily? Where did she acquire this expansive, almost incomprehensible insight?
Had she spent centuries alive, imagining and dissecting various mind-boggling abilities all this time while⋯⋯ carving open bodies?
“I’ve witnessed many battles—scenes of purple and yellow giants clashing, crises averted through tactical command from the rear, and struggles against the overwhelming grip of hypnosis⋯⋯.”
Karen’s smile deepened as she recalled these pleasant memories.
Was she bluffing? It didn’t seem like a lie. But if this conversation was assumed to be true, what that meant was⋯⋯.
The publicly known details about the Crazy Wizard were as follows:
Born in a remote mountain village, she attracted the attention of Tower Masters who recognized her extraordinary talent.
She joined the Purple Magic Tower and lived in seclusion before eventually making her presence felt in the world.
But what if that wasn’t the full story? 『Corpse Flower that Consumes Fear』 had been resurrected by borrowing the bodies of others. What if Crazy Wizard was the same?
Breaking through Roderus, wielding magical powers unusual for her apparent age, and even her political movements were with such finesse that she immediately secured a core position in the Second Prince’s faction⋯⋯.
That unsettling knowledge and insight.
It would make sense if she was actually a witch hundreds of years old.
Faceless manipulated her puppet’s expression into a mocking smile. She let out a scornful laugh, feigning confidence like an audience member mocking a clown’s performance.
“That was a fun story. So, when does the real conversa⋯⋯.”
Click . The stage lights went out.
Clouds gathered abruptly, blotting out the sunlight. The rays that had streamed through the cracks in the ceiling vanished, leaving the warehouse cloaked in an unnatural, oppressive darkness.
From within the shadows, crimson eyes glowed ominously, as though they dissected all deceit, laying bare the truth.
“This is the real conversation. A warning.”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
“I know what you don’t, and I can do what you can’t. Sometimes I can even be a cruel little cat. But for now, I’ll be a gentleman. Step back and withdraw your hand, Redburn.”
Or else──
At that moment, the warehouse door flew open with a crash. A silver-armored knight stormed in with a desperate face.
“──KAREN!!”
“Ci-Cicel! How did you find⋯⋯ Cicel, get out of here! I’ll be fine! Kkyack ?!”
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
A pause. Just a few seconds.
And then everything changed.
In an instant, the Grand Witch standing in front of Faceless transformed into a completely different woman. Faceless’s mind reeled, struggling to process the sudden shift.
What the⋯⋯
===============================================================
Ever since hearing of Karen’s abduction, Cicel had refused to remove her armor. She needed to be prepared to act the moment she received any news.
She kept her Zweihänder within arm’s reach, and waited with a disciplined posture so that her body wouldn’t fall. And she thought.
Burdened by the weight of time, thinking was all she could do.
Countless thoughts rose and fell in her mind, but they always returned to the same two worries: Karen’s safety and her last leaf.
Just one swing left.
Maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe she could muster the strength for one more time, somehow. Brief flickers of hope lifted her spirits.
But if the next swing really was her last⋯⋯ what then? Would her life just end like this? These questions consumed her.
She could hear someone’s voice in her head. It was as if some evil being had sensed her inner turmoil, and sought to exploit it. It felt like she could hear the innocent young girl’s whisper in her ears.
Why don’t you give up now and run away?
“No. That is not a choice I am willing to make.”
Why? You’ve found something you want to do. Why not disappear to some place no one knows you, and live as a dancer in a small village, wouldn’t that be enough for you?
“I would be happy. But I’d regret it.”
If you die, you won’t have regrets. It will all be over.
“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”
The whispers were persuasive. If she were to die, there would be no regrets, no lingering attachments.
But then, why was she so willing to risk her life?
Was it inertia, as it had always been? Was she simply trudging along the path dictated by the expectations of others, moving wherever their gazes pointed, mindlessly⋯⋯?
“No. No. My resolve is not the same as before.”
She had changed.
So she endured. She endured everything, holding onto the belief that happiness awaited her at the end of her struggles. She poured every ounce of her soul into the pursuit of glory, achieved fame, and filled the wall. Yet, the wall never seemed complete.
“Because every time I filled it, the wall grew larger. It stretched endlessly. And then I realized something. Even if I were to slay a dragon or cleave the heavens, the ‘Wall of Glory’ could never truly be filled⋯⋯”
Countess Yurensto wasn’t satisfied, and she would just keep redrawing that giant wall with her brush.
It was like Sisyphus’s punishment, and it would last until death.
The female knight who was slowly being consumed by this unrelenting cycle, clenched her fist tightly.
And then she turned her gaze.
“Isn’t it strange? Despite all the accolades I’ve achieved, I’ve never once felt happy. And now I understand why. The wall I was trying to fill⋯⋯ it was never mine. It was my mother’s ‘Wall of Glory.’”
When she looked again, she saw something else—a small, fragile mound of dirt. It was her own wall, one so tiny that a handful of awards could make it feel complete, yet so delicate it seemed it could crumble with a single kick.
“Now, I will fill my own ‘Wall of Glory.’ And the first step toward that is saving my friend Karen. If I can hang that medal on my wall⋯⋯ I will risk my life for it.”
That was why.
Even when the summons for the Tournament of 『Courage』 finals arrived at the same time as the report revealing Karen’s location, Cicel Yurensto didn’t falter.
She had no interest in winning the tournament, no desire to claim the title of Hero or extend her lifespan.
What she sought now was the honor of rescuing her friend.
Cicel hoisted her Zweihänder onto her shoulder and stood resolutely. The path before her was clear, and this time, the glory she sought was her own.
“Wait for me, Karen⋯⋯.”
The knight was on her way to rescue the princess.
***
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