[591] The Incident of That Day (2)
* * *
A stop magic was cast, and the incident that manifested from the form of a particular structure in Istas rose to the surface.
Time: 0:00.
Space: Istas Warehouse No. 72.
Inside Istas, reproduced exactly as it had been nineteen years ago, a woman entered through the door.
It was Miro, little different in appearance from now, cradling a newborn in her arms.
With a face as solemn as if bearing the weight of the world, she stared down the corridor, then turned and asked, "How much time was I given?"
"...."
Someone spoke from outside the door, but the sound didn't carry—meaning he was outside the incident.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure it succeeds."
Miro vowed to him.
"If I can't come back in time, just close the time. I won't resent you."
She stood as if listening to a long speech from beyond the door, then nodded and turned.
"Yolga."
Three minutes after the incident began, that was the last thing she said as she left Istas Warehouse No. 72.
Time: 2:42.
Space: Istas Warehouse No. 72.
Shirone and Anchal opened the door to Warehouse No. 72 and stepped into Istas.
The scene was now so familiar it barely startled them, but today his heart pounded as if it would burst.
"Phew."
Shirone drew a deep breath and looked back at Anchal. "By the way, who cast the stop magic? Unless Armin came here."
"Probably an unauthorized Fermi operation. Upper-tier incidents are hidden at a single coordinate in time and space. When time is stopped, they separate into time and space."
To them it played out like reality; to people outside, it was all over in an instant.
"What if someone casts Sibulsangpokmae here—"
Before Shirone finished, Anchal grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.
"Hide."
She pressed to the wall and wove the Jincheon illusion, producing a perfect replica of the wall that concealed them.
Moments later, Miro staggered in, drenched in blood, her arms hanging limp.
Her steps were heavy and her expression dazed, but her eyes were still clear.
'Miro? What happened?'
Miro suddenly stopped walking, but Anchal watched her without flinching.
'It's fine. We won't be discovered.'
Anchal's magic-eye made the illusion feel tangible—a prajna-level technique rendered technical—so even Miro wouldn't easily see through it.
"Shirone."
Miro's call made Shirone's shoulder twitch.
"Don't come. Whatever you're thinking, you must not come here."
Shirone moved toward the wall to speak with Miro, but Anchal gripped his shoulder.
'Not yet. It's not good to get tangled up in the incident from the start.'
Kuru-rurung!
Istas trembled, and the structure began to shift.
Miro spun around in alarm and shouted, "You idiot—!"
Before the words finished, Miro's figure grew faint and then, as if it were a lie, vanished.
The tremor stopped. Anchal dispelled the illusion and said, "Istas' structure changed. Warehouse No. 72 is no longer the entrance."
"So if the space changes, the incident changes too?"
Anchal nodded. "Upper-tier incidents are records etched into a specific time and space. If either changes, the incident won't occur. But this is different now. The warehouse moving means it's already diverged from the original incident."
"Who moved the warehouse?"
"Could be Fermi…"
Anchal turned to Shirone. "Or maybe you did."
Shirone blinked. "But I just came in. How could I have moved a warehouse?"
"The upper-tier is structured so time loops infinitely. It's not a line but a circle connecting beginning and end. There's no strict past, present, or future. We may have only just entered, but a future you might have moved Istas for some reason. Otherwise, how could Miro have known your name a moment ago?"
"Ah…"
Shirone's mouth fell open. "Upper-tier incidents are records from nineteen years ago. There's no way she could know my name. So the Miro we saw had already met you."
"You might have told your future self something, and that future you passed it on. But nothing's certain yet. The fact the incident has taken a different course means it will likely continue doing so. Especially the movement of space—that's serious."
"In what way?"
Anchal conjured a cube with an illusion spell. "Put simply, Istas is a kind of cube. Geopin stored a specific incident here. For example…"
On the cube's faces, an image of a war any Tormian would recognize was overlaid.
"Think of this picture as an upper-tier incident. It's a flat image, but depending on the observer, countless stories are embedded in it."
Shirone realized how Geopin had hidden incidents in spacetime. "They compressed a three-dimensional incident into two dimensions."
"Right. They essentially printed the incident as it was. But we've entered that picture, so we're experiencing a two-dimensional incident in three dimensions. And now, for some reason, Istas has moved."
As the cube spun wildly, the picture scrambled like a jigsaw.
"See? Incidents recorded at specific times and places have been scattered."
Anchal pointed to the passage toward the next warehouse. "It takes less than a minute to get to Warehouse No. 14 from here. But what unfolds there might be the future an hour from now—or the past from an hour ago."
If space had warped and the timeline broken, another hypothesis arose.
"What if I twist time? If I cast Sibulsangpokmae here, what happens?"
"How wide a window would you shift in time?"
"About a second forward and back."
"That would cover the upper-tier's entire timespan and then some. This is a two-dimensional incident without intrinsic time. If you cast Sibulsangpokmae now, you'd experience every time period that occurred in this space."
"So that's why you said I might have moved Istas—because I can change space."
"Exactly. Fermi's suspicious, but if anyone would have the need to alter space, it's you."
"What kind of need would justify that?"
There would be no reason to risk twisting an incident unless something extremely serious demanded it.
"We have to check the engine room. If the incident changed, we need to know to restore it."
Anchal turned toward the engine room. Shirone, surprised, asked, "You knew Istas' equations?"
"Don't underestimate the Jinchun Space Bureau's intelligence. Even top-secret files—blueprints at least—can be obtained."
Shirone's eyes went hollow. 'Top-secret files, huh…' He'd felt it even before going to heaven: surprised just to be alive.
Time: 1:17.
Space: Istas Warehouse No. 14.
As soon as they stepped out of the door, a powerful explosion rang out.
"What the—?"
When he turned, Shirone was met by a scene wallpapered in blood.
"Arghhhh!"
"Pursue! Don't let them escape!"
Shirone's eyes widened. 'That voice from before!'
Confirming the voice he'd heard the first time Sibulsangpokmae had been cast in Istas, he saw a man wearing a claw shaped like an eagle's talon on his wrist chasing Miro.
"Don't be careless! The opponent is the strongest prajna!"
Miro ran with her gaze forward, but Gwaneum's panoramic sight had no blind spots.
"Arghhh!"
When Gwaneum's palm shoved another soldier against the wall, the man burst like a fly.
"Report! Squad 1 annihilated! Squad 1 annihilated!"
"Damn it!"
Lask, leading Squad 2, clenched his teeth and leapt forward. "Miro! Surrender your head!"
The distance closed in an instant, and only then did Miro turn.
"Tch!"
Gwaneum's palm split in that instant and aimed for Lask; his claw swung with an afterimage.
With an explosive crack the palm was knocked aside, and Lask crossed his claws in an X as he landed.
"What an annoyance…"
Miro glared nervously at the child in her arms, then turned away again. "Pursue! Aim for the child!"
Hwaseong's troops rushed past Shirone.
Just watching the battle left Shirone breathless. As he exhaled in relief, Anchal dispelled the illusion and said, "At this coordinate, Hwaseong's Squad 1 was annihilated. Because she's holding the child, not much time has passed."
"She looked like she'd do anything to protect that child."
Otherwise someone as strong as Miro wouldn't run with the enemy at her heels.
'That child…'
Shirone remembered the night before he completed his training and descended the mountain, when Miro had asked him about his parents.
- Shirone, maybe I…—
What had Miro been trying to say then?
"I need to check who that child is."
"Then let's move to the next room."
They arrived at Warehouse No. 13, where Miro had fled, but found no trace of combat.
"The space is right, but the time seems different."
At Anchal's words, Shirone drew Armand.
He gripped the sword and activated Diamond Armament; an organic robe wrapped around him and an artificial brain device rose above his head.
"Is that Armand?"
Valhalla Action was still repaying its debt, but its other functions would greatly increase his survival odds.
"I have to meet Miro no matter what. I'll cast Sibulsangpokmae here."
If they perceived time differently, Anchal's and Shirone's coordinates would separate, so there was no reason for him to stay.
"Good. I'll go to the engine room. Check things out and come find me."
After confirming Anchal had left, Shirone cast Sibulsangpokmae and the surroundings began to shimmer.
"Ugh—!"
This time his perception of time was completely different from before: the entire two hours and forty-eight minutes of record surged in.
The sensation of past, present, and future being forced into two dimensions was grotesque, like looking at the world through a carnival mirror.
"Kruuu!"
Under the onslaught of information, Shirone strained to pinpoint when Miro had been here.
"Arghhhh!"
When Sibulsangpokmae faded, his head ached as if it would split.
Time: 1:32.
Space: Istas Warehouse No. 13.
"Who are you?"
Miro, clutching the child, pressed her back against the wall.
"Miro?"
Shirone snapped to attention and froze.
Squad 2 of Hwaseong, which had been pursuing her moments ago, lay butchered on the warehouse floor.
'The fight's over.'
"Who did you ask? If you're Hwaseong, I'll kill you."
Shirone hurriedly pushed back his hood. "No! I'm a student at the School of Magic!"
It was the best way to reassure Miro.
"A student? You couldn't leave?"
If she belonged to the Paranormal Mind Science Research Association, there was a good chance Geopin had entered before cutting the timeline.
"How pathetic. Sad, but get your life in order. You're not leaving here."
Miro's tension slipped and she sank back against the wall.
Shirone stepped closer and looked at the child, who slept peacefully in Miro's arms.
"No. I came to see you, Miro."
"To see me?"
Miro, exhausted, turned her head.