[161] Clay Marsha (5)
"If you touch someone who's had their magic stolen, the theft is undone?"
Marsha's silence alone was enough for Shirone to be sure he'd hit the mark.
Still, something felt off. If contact nullified the theft, then putting distance between them made sense.
The real problem was how lopsided Marsha's advantage was. She'd stolen countless magics that relied on divine particles, while he had only one Wind Cutter to his name.
Wasn't that more than enough for her to win? And yet she'd backed away dozens of meters as if terrified.
"A regulation anomaly…."
Shirone's eyes snapped open. Suddenly everything in his head lined up.
"Found it. A mental gap. Marsha isn't flawless."
Once he thought it through, it was simple. Touch undid the theft. If that restriction alone allowed someone to be robbed of their magic, who could possibly defeat her? There had to be one more price attached.
Whatever that price was, it would be closely tied to the trauma that produced the regulation anomaly.
"A regulation anomaly is someone with a mental bias. To possess such overwhelming power, the ability must have been born from a trauma that was unavoidable from the start."
So she couldn't let anyone get close. As soon as Shirone found a way to undo the theft, the chance of that price triggering shot up dramatically.
What she feared wasn't losing the magics she'd stolen. What terrified her was the horrible price that would hit the moment the theft was undone.
"But she must have stolen countless magics before. How did she survive then?"
The answer came quickly. As soon as he solved it, Shirone lunged at Marsha.
This was no time to hesitate. Marsha was stalling until reinforcements arrived.
A theft bought with the worst pain she'd ever felt.
As long as there was any chance Shirone could trigger that price, Marsha would never stand and fight.
Put another way: if that level of fear hadn't existed, the theft known as her power never could have manifested in the first place.
Shirone felt his fear recede. There was still time. He had to seize Marsha before backup could arrive.
"Ugh!"
Marsha groaned and slid farther away. Even if Shirone only closed the distance a little, her face went pale. The teasing tone, the coquettish expressions—they were gone.
"I can do it! I can get my magic back!"
Hope flared in Shirone, and he pursued. Chasing a teleporting mage on foot was nearly impossible, but he couldn't stand still in front of the thief who'd stolen his life.
"Shirone! It's dangerous!"
At Tess's shout, Shirone glanced up. About ten brilliant flashes streaked through the air with thunderous roar and fell.
Color finally returned to Marsha's face. Shirone, by contrast, felt hollowed out—drained of any strength to run.
He'd thought there was enough time. He'd been wrong. Her surviving subordinates had used a magic circle to arrive in an instant.
"Hohoho! Finally you're here. It's all over now!"
Around twenty Skima users swarmed in and surrounded Marsha. There was no way to break through and grab her.
"Shi, Shirone…."
Amy bit her lip and swallowed back tears.
Was it really going to end like this? Would Shirone have to give up his dream of being a mage?
"No. I loved magic. I worked so hard for it."
Shirone looked at Marsha as if he'd let everything go. It was the most hollow expression a person could make.
"Oh my, Shirone? Why are you staring at me like that? Oh—because of the magic? It's fine. You're young; you can learn it again from scratch. Of course, the magics I stole will be impossible for you to use for the rest of your life."
"You probably stole the sound magic from someone else too, right?"
"Hoho, of course I did. You know I have a thieving streak. You used to say you understood me—why so stingy now? You even paid fifty silver for that pottery without blinking, but you can't give me magic? Why? You act all kind but you're miserly when it comes to giving magic away?"
Amy shouted, outraged.
"Shut up! How can you say that? What did Shirone do to you to deserve this?"
How could a person be like that? Marsha hadn't just stolen Shirone's magic—she seemed intent on trampling his life as well.
"Hohoho! That's hypocrisy. There are no good people in this world. They hide all kinds of vile thoughts inside and pretend to care on the surface. It's disgusting!"
Marsha was railing at the world, but to Shirone it sounded like she was aiming at a single person.
Her father.
He'd taken orphaned Marsha in and raised her until she was seventeen. How crushing it must have been to realize those years had been twisted by ugly desire.
That is why regulation anomalies are terrifying. The manifestation of such abilities draws on a person's trauma.
To ordinary mages, Omnipotence strengthens Omniscience. But a regulation anomaly uses Omnipotence to warp Omniscience.
"So painful that even their worldview gets twisted—that's a regulation anomaly."
That warped humanity manifested through magic. Now Shirone understood why the Magic Association refused to recognize regulation anomalies as true magic.
"You're the pitiable one, sister."
Marsha's eyes hardened. Who was she calling pitiable?
The truly pitiable one was Shirone—stripped of his magics after she'd put on those theatrics of embracing the whole world.
"Hmph! Now you try to placate me? After trying to kill me. Do you think I'll forgive you?"
"Honestly, I don't know anymore. I don't know how painfully you lived, sister."
"Hoho! Finally admitting it! Now you get it? No one truly understands another's suffering! That's human nature! Only bad people live in this world!"
"So… I'll be with you from now on."
Marsha's heart dropped. There was no way he could come here—twenty underlings were watching her.
"Maybe you're right. Maybe it was all hypocrisy. But I still believe there's a way to share pain. If you truly show me your wounds—real pain, not lies—I want to see them."
"Don't be ridiculous. Who would pity someone like you?"
"I'll shatter the shell that traps you. I'll see it for myself. See how rotten your wounds are."
"Don't come! Don't come!"
Marsha screamed in horror. The wound was so tender she'd scream if a feather brushed it. And he wanted to pry it open? Worse, tear at it with his hands?
"Instead, I promise I won't ever give up on you. I'll take all your pain on myself."
The moment Shirone finished, the subordinates drew their blades and cut off Marsha's path.
"Make sure he can't get through! Cut his throat!"
Watching the enemy net, Shirone turned to Rian.
"Rian, guard my side."
Of the four, Rian was the most injured; he could barely move. Still, without protest he stood and slung his jikdo over his shoulder.
Tess followed, sprinting after Rian.
"Wait! I'll do it. I'm less hurt than Rian."
"No, Tess. This is my lord's order to me."
"But in this condition—"
Shirone shook his head at Tess.
"Tess, it has to be Rian at my side. I can't ask someone else to bleed for me."
"Bleed? See blood?"
Shirone stepped forward slowly and spoke to Rian.
"Rian, cut down anyone who dares come at me."
Rian didn't understand at first. He'd had his magic stolen and could barely walk. Charging into the enemy now would be a death sentence.
"All right. Leave it to me."
Still, Rian quietly moved to follow Shirone. He didn't question orders. If his lord commanded, he'd stake his life without doubt.
Marsha couldn't contain her fury.
He wanted to see her wounds? To share her pain? Nonsense. He was just wagging his tongue, doing anything to get his magic back.
That's humans for you. No matter how much they feign kindness, they only try to satisfy their own desires.
"Kill him! Kill that brat now!"
At Marsha's cry, her twenty underlings leapt forward. Augmented by Skima, they closed the distance in an instant and raised cruel blades.
Rian gripped his jikdo's hilt hard. He didn't know how long he could hold out, but even if his head was cut off, he'd keep moving.
A vanguard swordsman vaulted forward and brought a greatsword down toward Shirone's crown. At the same time, Rian gritted his teeth and readied his swing.
But at that moment the swordsman's body suddenly turned to light and shot up into the sky.
A sharp sound of spatial displacement tore the air.
Marsha stared blankly. Amy and Tess across from her watched in anxious bewilderment.
"What are you waiting for? Attack! Everyone, attack! We'll win for sure!"
At the captain's command three swordsmen launched themselves. Yet before any could swing at Shirone, they too turned to light and vanished into the air.
Marsha's lips trembled.
Shirone was advancing. Each step he took sent a subordinate flashing with light and flying off in a roar.
What on earth was happening?
Only Amy, the mage, understood. Even she's voice trembled.
"Amazing. I knew his magical sense was excellent, but I didn't expect it to be like this."
When had Shirone predicted this?
From when Marsha's subordinates arrived? From when he realized the theft's restriction? No—perhaps since Rian told him about the Wind Cutter.
"What—Amy? What is Shirone doing right now?"
"That's magic. A Slow spell that slows time."
No one but Shirone could immediately fuse the theory—until now only theoretical Omniscience—with Omnipotence. Even Amy hadn't expected him to manage this.
So Marsha hadn't predicted it. Shirone's insight, long buried under lies and conspiracies, had risen to the surface and swallowed her calculations.
"Slow? That's Slow?"
Tess peered forward. From the outside, nothing seemed to change. When an enemy came within Shirone's reach they invariably detonated into light and flew away.
But the view from inside Shirone's Spirit Zone—where Rian stood—was different.
The instant someone entered Shirone's Spirit Zone, their body flashed and began to move tediously slowly.
Those who'd reached the realm of extreme speed could distort the zone's time. It wasn't the extreme slowing of someone like Alpheas, but Shirone's control was enough to stretch the relativity of time more than twofold.
"So? Can I just cut them?"
Rian prepared to swing at the slowly approaching enemy. The man's eyes were full of terror. At that pace, death was inevitable. Eventually he escaped using a spatial-transfer spell attached to his bracelet.
Having fled before Rian could strike, the man's departure was almost anticlimactic; Rian snorted and resumed following Shirone.
Kiiing! Kiiing! Kiiing!
The sharp sounds of spatial transfers never stopped. Only three underlings remained between Shirone and Marsha—and even they fled the moment he drew near.
Alone again, Marsha trembled, her face drained of color. Horrible images kept replaying in her head.
"Don't come! If you come you'll die! If I die, you'll never get your magic back!"