Short and Intense
Five minutes before the incident.
Backstage, Bernel Marquis was gasping for breath.
“Huff… huff…”
How many times in his life had he ever stepped out of his house onto a stage like this? And how many times had he ever dared to hope for something like this?
I’ve hoped before.
But had he ever truly believed a day like this would come? Other people might have, but Bernel never had. Being ignored had been routine. He’d even come within a hair’s breadth of having his organs harvested by loan sharks. That had been his life. Ferda’s intervention had changed everything, yet even so, Bernel had never imagined himself standing here.
He carefully parted the curtain and peered out. The vast seats of the opera house stretched before him. His heart fluttered with excitement—yet the pressure and terror looming over him were far greater.
Bernel, do you honestly believe such a thing is possible?
Bernard’s words, the Academy Headmaster’s, circled endlessly in his ears, swelling the dread. It had been during his days as a student at Escoleia Academy, in the question period of an academic conference.
Anyone can present fanciful ideals like that. But what happens if you become obsessed with them?
Don’t delude yourself into thinking you can shatter every existing principle. You may be clever, but you’ll never be that kind of genius.
Bernard had tried to crush Bernel’s will. Bernel had refused to give up. From that day on, however, people had become difficult for him. Especially the thought of standing on a main stage like this.
Would they mock him again? Would they rattle him with useless nitpicking? Would he disappoint the people who had believed in him?
Those questions became hands that closed around Bernel’s throat.
Even so, I have to do this.
For the Regent who had believed in him—Ferda. To shove it in the face of Bernard, who had refused to accept his success and had only insulted him. And for the self who had poured everything into this.
“Huuuuh!!! Why the hell isn’t this damn herbal tea working…?”
He had downed several cups of the tea that was supposed to melt tension away, yet the noise in his head refused to leave. He clasped both hands tightly and prayed. He wished, just a little, that the whole thing would fall apart unexpectedly.
Kyaaaaaah!
As if granting his tiny wish, a scream tore through the air. The sudden shriek jolted Bernel wide awake.
“What? What’s going on?”
The staff running the stage began fleeing in a pack. Instead of running with them, Bernel decided to grasp the situation.
“Hah…!”
A rift had opened. Inside Halim—no, inside the opera house itself—a rift pouring out monsters.
Is that even possible?
Gates that spawned monsters inside a city existed, but the cases were vanishingly rare. And for one to appear now, of all times—when people were gathered like this, when they were introducing monster-appearance prediction equipment—the timing was far too convenient.
Should I run?
The moment Bernel started to turn his feet, something held him in place. Ferda entered his vision. Ferda stood right there. With cold, clear eyes he was already responding to the rift, as if the option of fleeing had never existed in the first place.
Noblesse oblige. Ferda was fulfilling the duty of a noble.
Those eyes steeled Bernel.
I have to do something too.
He might not be able to risk his life the way he once had, but he still had to be of help. He whipped his head around. There sat the Magic Engineering Rifle he had prepared. Bernel lifted it and powered it on.
Adjust the mana volume, warm it up sufficiently, set the tuning dials, match the displayed calibration values and modulate the power…
Why are there so many steps?
Over twenty separate operations were required. Originally there had been more than a hundred. Because Malcolm couldn’t use it, Bernel had simplified it again and again until this was what remained.
Still too many.
Right up until the presentation he had thought, This should be usable enough, right? People can operate this much, can’t they?
I was wrong.
Making it simple enough for Malcolm to use meant it had to be simple enough to fire at any moment. This complicated, it was useless in a crisis. Even while they held the line, sacrifices would pile up.
Damn it.
Idiot. Just like the Headmaster said—I’m an idiot. Unable to imagine what was actually needed, I’d clung only to raising the efficiency by one percent. This was the result.
Even as the regret spilled out of him, Bernel’s hands never stopped moving. Right now, in this moment, he would do the one thing he could. At last he finished loading and yanked the bolt.
Wooooom—!
The object-acceleration magic circle activated, vibrating deep inside the pipe. Rifle in hand, Bernel climbed onto the stage.
The situation had already reached its endgame. Only two wolf-type monsters remained, and both were charging straight at Ferda.
They’re insanely fast!
Bernel had only one chance. With that single shot he had to land a decisive hit. But just holding the rifle was hard enough; he had no confidence he could track that movement and fire.
Crackle!
A single bolt of lightning lanced from Ferda’s hand. It stopped one beast, but not the other. The second wolf brushed Jed aside and slammed straight into Ferda, jaws already opening for his throat.
No!
Bernel no longer hesitated. He squeezed the trigger. The mana formula ignited; a sphere of pure mana formed inside the glass chamber. It slid into the long pipe and became a streak of light.
Bang!
It punched clean through the chest of the monster lunging for Ferda. The shot struck the heart dead-center. The pure mana bullet buried itself; the wolf monster yelped, thrashed once, then went rigid and still.
One shot. A single shot had dropped the creature.
Even Bernel, the one who had fired, wore a face of pure shock. He had set the power higher than usual, but he had never expected an instant kill. He had only meant to buy time.
Yet intention no longer mattered. The thunderous report that shook heaven and earth, and the death of the final monster—everything pulled every eye in the hall toward Bernel.
They stared at him with mouths hanging open like fools.
“What the hell is that?”
“Looks like magic just shot out of it?”
“So it’s a staff? Did he cast a spell?”
“No staff looks like that.”
They were only guessing at the object in Bernel’s hands. From the start the presentation had been about Magic Stones; the Magic Engineering Rifle was meant to be introduced merely as an applied example.
“Um…”
He had to say something. The pressure to speak forced Bernel’s mouth open.
“This is the item I brought today—the Magic Engineering Rifle…?”
That was all. No further words would come. Yet it was enough. That single introduction burned itself into every mind with overwhelming force.
While the presentation hall dissolved into chaos, others watched from a careful distance. The situation was over; cleanup was underway.
“Seven wolf monsters.”
One man folded his arms and muttered.
“How many deaths did you expect from those seven wolf-types?”
The man beside him answered.
“At least three hundred. Including the Headmaster of Escoleia.”
“And yet not a single fatality. Bernard didn’t die either.”
“Whoever planned this won’t escape responsibility.”
This was no mere miscalculation or slight overrun. It was a catastrophic failure.
“What do you think the cause was?”
“Do you need an answer?”
“Just checking whether we’re thinking the same thing.”
The reason for defeat could be distilled into a single name.
“Ferda Valdrova.”
“So it was him after all.”
They had reached the same conclusion. Ferda Valdrova. Lately that name had been circulating nonstop among the demonkin. The moment he involved himself, everything began to unravel.
“I heard he even borrowed the power of demons to raid a research facility. Did we underestimate him and end up like this?”
“We didn’t underestimate him. If anything, we overestimated him.”
That overestimation had come from Director Linne’s testimony. The demonkin had dismissed Linne’s words as the usual excuses of a loser.
“Yet even that overestimation fell short.”
Ferda had exceeded imagination.
“He knows how to neutralize monsters using first- and second-circle mages who are useless in combat.”
“His grasp of forces and how to allocate them was perfect. He pushed a little hard, but even that looked calculated.”
“Cold-blooded bastard. Somehow he looks like he’s been through battles like this a hundred times.”
“He’s only eighteen. How is that possible?”
“Maybe he saw real battlefields.”
“Look at that body. Scrawny, no muscle—what could he possibly do with it?”
“Then… is it innate?”
“Too polished for pure instinct. The level is different.”
Speculation about Ferda abounded, yet no answer emerged; they remained lost in fog.
“Other factors might give us the answer.”
“Meaning?”
“Widen the field of view. Look for more contributing elements.”
He jerked his chin toward the brown-haired man.
“That Jed fellow is strange too. Can Haste alone make a human move like that?”
“Ordinary humans can’t. To move that way, he’d have to have lived at that speed his whole life.”
“I thought it was weird they hired a guy who just plays around with women just because he’s a knight—turns out there was a reason.”
The man nodded in understanding.
“And that Malcolm character…”
“Just an idiot. Even after the situation ended he’s still busily kidnapping mages, isn’t he?”
“...Right.”
Meanwhile the other man was thinking hard.
“We’ll have to raise the threat rating. At least to Alberdo’s level.”
“Ferda Valdrova? Premature. I still think he’s within expected parameters.”
The man shook his head.
“I’m talking about that one.”
He pointed with his chin at the blue-haired man who had climbed onto the stage—the man who had killed a wolf monster in a single shot with an object that looked like a work of art.
Bernel Marquis.
“That one’s influence will without question surpass Ferda Valdrova’s.”
With the deaths of the seven wolf monsters, the crisis in the presentation hall came to an end. There were many wounded, yet the fact that the battle had finished without a single death carried enormous weight. Normally even one monster meant at least three deaths as a baseline; when numbers rose, fatalities soared exponentially. Yet seven had stormed in and not one person had died. Everything was finished before Halim’s support troops even arrived. It was so wondrous that the word “impressive” felt pale.
The one who had steered that wondrous situation was Ferda.
“Thank you for saving our lives, Lord Regent.”
“I am truly in awe of Your Excellency’s radiant nobility, and I revere you. Thank you.”
Those who had fought alongside him and those who had fled and returned both swarmed Ferda with flattery. Standing his ground on the front line without retreating—Ferda’s actions had been noblesse oblige itself.
Of course the praise was not Ferda’s alone. Someone else had left an equally deep impression.
“Do you know who that man is?”
“Bernel Marquis, apparently. One of the presenters today.”
It was Bernel. He had appeared at the very end of the monster invasion and delivered the finishing blow, so talk of him rose naturally.
“Ah, I remember. Something so remarkable that Headmaster Bernard pushed it through single-handedly?”
“Is that the thing?”
“Doesn’t seem so. The name doesn’t match for a Magic Stone. If it’s a Magic Stone it should be a rock, right?”
“Then what in the world is that?”
With no concept of Magic Engineering, they could not grasp exactly what the object was. Yet there was no need to explain the concept in exhaustive detail. Magic Engineering was technology that could kill a monster in one shot. That alone made it an object worth every bit of attention.
Bernel felt the change in the gazes directed at him and sidled up to Ferda.
“Lord Regent… there’s something I need to tell you…”
“Speak.”
“I did kill the monster, but… it wasn’t supposed to die.”
Ferda turned his head.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been thinking it over. Based on the power measured during the rifle demonstration, the muscle density of that wolf monster, the bullet trajectory and so on—there’s no way it should have reached the heart.”
“You didn’t fire to kill?”
“I only meant to buy enough time. So I checked the corpse roughly afterward, and…”
“Go on.”
“The place I shot—there was a slight gap between the muscle fibers. The bullet slipped exactly through that space between the muscles, almost no force lost, reached the heart, and detonated there.”
Ferda summarized Bernel’s explanation.
“So you’re saying everything happened because a series of coincidences stacked on top of one another?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Ferda stared straight at Bernel’s face.
“Is there any benefit to us in announcing that?”
“Uh… no?”
“Then stop raining on the parade and enjoy it.”
Ferda gave Bernel’s shoulder a couple of pats and walked past. The moment Ferda left, a throng of scholars and merchants surged toward Bernel. They introduced themselves and offered formal greetings. Bernel smiled awkwardly at them. It wasn’t half bad. For all the fuss, this opportunity had been born from something he had made.
Meanwhile Penelope clung to Jed and bounced up and down.
“Jeddie, Jeddie! Look over there, look! Look at the eyes those females are making!”
“…”
“Oh my god. I already feel my belly swelling. Am I allowed to cry? Can I cry?”
“...Shut up, you.”
He shoved Penelope’s gushing head away. With a complicated expression, Jed quietly slipped out. Looking thoroughly troubled, he left; Penelope scampered after him like a child.
“What is it? Going for the ‘complicated man’ concept?! Not bad either! Just don’t overdo the concept! We’re feasting today!!”
While everyone basked in heated attention, only Malcolm failed to share it.
“Are you insane!? You threw me into the middle of a battlefield!?”
“I’m sorry! I thought you were a witch…!”
“You crazy bastard, what did you just say!? Do I look like a witch to you, huh?!”
“N-no, that wasn’t what I meant! I genuinely thought you were someone who could use magic.”
Even five minutes after the situation ended, Malcolm had still been diligently kidnapping mages; now he was taking a full-force verbal thrashing from a noblewoman. Mistaking a wrinkled noble lady for a witch and hauling her in had earned him a spit-shower of insults. Within a minute his parents and his balls had been thoroughly erased, and a great many other things were currently vanishing as well.
Unable to watch any longer, Ferda stepped in front of the noblewoman himself. The matter was settled in ten seconds. Malcolm bowed his head, cold sweat pouring down.
“I’m sorry, Lord Regent. I made a mistake.”
“No. Raise your head. Did you commit a crime?”
“You ordered me to bring only mages, yet I brought a noblewoman and caused trouble…”
“That much is unavoidable. You did your duty. As a knight of the Grand Duchy you carried out my order, and you did excellent work.”
Ferda was sincerely grateful. What if Malcolm had tried to persuade the mages instead of simply kidnapping them? Not a single one would have come. Who in their right mind would walk into a place where death was circling? If he hadn’t dragged them here by force, the plan would have stalled. This operation had gone smoothly precisely because Malcolm had done the one thing he could do.
“Thank you, kugh!!”
Malcolm’s eyes filled with tears of pure emotion.
Just as things were settling, someone approached Ferda. No one stood where he stepped; the man was clearly high-ranking.
“I greet the consort of the Great Power of Fire, Valdrova. I am Ahmad, lord of this land of pleasure, Halim.”
The lord of Halim. Before Ferda could even return the greeting, Ahmad dropped to one knee.
“On behalf of Halim, I offer my deepest thanks for calming this crisis.”
Everyone was stunned by Ahmad’s action.
“Good heavens… the lord of Halim kneeling…”
“The man who kept his back straight even before the Emperor of the Empire…”
Southern lords never lightly bent the knee even before a king. That Ahmad had knelt in front of everyone only elevated Ferda’s reputation further. Not a bad result.
“I merely fulfilled my duty as a noble.”
“Who would risk their life to clean up a mess that erupted on someone else’s land? This is no place for talk. Allow me to escort you to the castle. Let us heal your wounds and speak further.”
Only then did Ferda remember that his throat had been pierced. The bleeding had stopped, but the pain still throbbed.
There will definitely be a scar.
He needed conversation topics with Baldrova, yet he did not want to open with a scar like this.
“Can you heal it cleanly?”
“Of course. I will summon the finest so that not a single scar remains.”
Ferda set off with Ahmad toward the lord’s castle.