The fist flared up with light. All of the resistance and counteraction that impacted the fist were converted into light, and the destructive force of the blow pummelled directly into the object.
The metal candleholder was distorted beyond recognition, as though it had been struck by a giant iron hammer. It went flying through the air.
Elfitine’s jaw dropped. Even Berkens, who claimed to know the spell, looked stunned at the display of power.
Reynard turned calmly back to Berkens. “Well,” he said. “What’s your next move? You don’t have much time before the others arrive. Surely they heard that explosion.”
Berkens paused. The next moment, he slipped one hand into his pocket and ran at Reynard. Reynard stood his ground.
Berkens suddenly arced his arm, and something streaked through the air. The weapon from Berkens’ pocket struck Reynard’s Einherjar arm and caused another light to blaze. Reynard lost his balance as the light emitted from his own body blocked his view. Displaying a lithe movement that was surprising for his large physique, Berkens leapt over Reynard’s head…
And off the edge of the terrace.
“NO!” Elfitine screamed, suddenly forgetting that he was an enemy.
But Berkens proved exceptionally nimble. With one hand, he grabbed hold of one of the pillars of the facility, then swung to fly and grab hold of the next. Elfitine watched in awe as the burly priest made his way to another terrace, leapt onto it, and vanished into a tunnel.
It was a spectacular get away.
“That was… interesting,” Reynard said after a moment.
Reynard deactivated Einherjar as he bent to pick Berkens’ weapon off the floor. The metal contraption was in the shape of two opposite crescents.
“A double-moon blade…”
Elfitine suddenly noticed a heavy exhaustion in Reynard’s voice. She ran to him, worried. “Sir Ganvas!” she cried. “Are you all right?!”
Reynard stumbled, but Elfitine caught him before he fell. She carefully helped him regain his footing.
“To tell you the truth,” he mumbled, “this spell is quite strenuous on the sorcerer and only lasts for a short time. Had the priest stayed for three more minutes, I might have lost to him.”
Elfitine swallowed. “Sir Ganvas,” she pleaded. “Please take care of yourself. If anything were to happen to you, I… I…”
For a brief, terrible moment, the thought seized her.
What would she do if he were gone? What would happen to her?
A part of her—a part with insight so frightening that she usually kept it buried—whispered something in the back of her mind.
You’ll be a puppet without a master. You’ll fall to the stage and never move again.
Elfitine’s breathing slowed. Voices of approaching guards called from the distance, but she barely heard them.
Reynard gathered all the islanders in the assembly hall the following day. He announced that the Inquisitor had escaped… and that he was likely to try and obstruct their plans. Because of this, they would perform the final stage of the project half a day early.
“A spell?” Shannon focused his gaze on his twin. Raquel nodded.
“Yes. And if it’s what I think it is…”
Raquel hesitated. Hesitating was very unusual for Raquel, so Shannon got nervous. He noticed Pacifica’s look of concern as well.
“It’s going to be… pretty hideous,” Raquel said.
“Hideous?” Shannon repeated.
“Hideous?!” Pacifica cried.
Raquel nodded.
Shannon sighed and leaned against a wall of the warehouse that they were once again locked inside. Several of the young islanders had demanded it; they insisted that without proof of the siblings’ lack of a connection to Berkens, they couldn’t wander freely on the island on such a crucial day. Since they had a point, the Casulls had agreed to enter the warehouse and avoid more confrontations.
“What kind of ‘hideous,’ Raquel?” Shannon asked.
“I can’t say for sure, because I haven’t seen this facility first hand… but I think Mister Ganvas is planning to use strategic level attack magic.”
Strategic level? Shannon had heard the name before, but he had no clue what it actually meant. All he knew was that such magic existed and that it was seldom used.
“As far as I know,” Raquel explained, “it’s only been used twice: the Gyatt Empire and the Linevan Kingdom used Ithaqua and Ginnungagap seven and eight years ago, respectively. They’re different spells with different effects, but both were so powerful that the Mauserist leadership convinced the nations to enter a restriction treaty.”
“Just how powerful are they?”
Raquel tapped her chin. “In theory, there’s no limit to their destructive capabilities, but the actual power of the spells depends on the number and capabilities of the sorcerers and the size and accuracy of the facility.” She paused. “Specifically, Ithaqua is said to have altered the weather, and Ginnungagap is probably strong enough to decimate an entire mountain or city.
Shannon struggled to imagine how destructive those spells could be. Even as she described them, Raquel seemed to be experiencing the same thing.
“But… hm.” Raquel furrowed her eyebrows. “Because these spells are so powerful, they require a tremendous amount of mental capacity. I’d say a minimum of a hundred sorcerers are needed.”
“You can’t find that many sorcerers easily,” Shannon argued. “It’s one thing if you have access to the Jade Squadron, but I’m pretty sure the only sorcerer on this island is Reynard.”
“That’s right. That’s why he’ll need substitutes.”
“Substi…” Shannon trailed off as something occurred to him. It was possible to use ordinary people, who were not sorcerers, to activate spells. And it was also possible to obtain mental capacity from them.
But that meant…
“Wait a minute.” Shannon straightened from the wall. “What if Reynard’s planning to use a magic field to combine the consciousness of all of the islanders? He could use that mental capacity to activate the spell.”
“But that wouldn’t that leave everyone in a coma for good?”
Sorcerers trained by learning to secure sufficient mental capacity and activate spells. If a person without the potential or training required of a sorcerer were forcibly used to activate a spell, the worst possible result would be a breakdown of his sense of self—turning him into a living corpse.
Shannon was not a sorcerer himself. He could only temporarily activate magic though the Emulator spell, and this was only because the Emulator was cast by the superbly gifted Raquel, and because Shannon himself was gifted with a mental capacity three times larger than the average person’s. Using such a spell on an individual without any training or natural talent would cause the Emulator to blend with his original sense of self, and the distinction between the two would be lost. The result would be an emotional disorder at the very least, or a personality collapse leading to a comatose state. The odds of the latter were far greater.
“Using their own consciousnesses as a weapon against Mauserism?” Shannon shook his head. “They’re crazy. Not only will they kill the Mauserists in and around Grendel and the tens of thousands of residents there who aren’t Mauserists, they’ll be destroying themselves.”
“I doubt the islanders understand the risk involved.”
“We’ve got to stop them!” Listening in silence up until that point, Pacifica suddenly jumped to her feet. “We can’t let them do that!” she cried.
Shannon frowned. “Pacifica—”
“Besides.” Pacifica clenched her fists. “If they kill all those people, that girl’s gonna become a ‘Scrapped Princess’ for real.”
Shannon crossed his arms. “Look,” he said. “I doubt it’s gonna be easy convincing them to stop.”
“Don’t count on that,” called a bold voice from behind the door.
The door opened, and Pacifica lit up. “Good old Berkens!”
Berkens made a face and rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Don’t call me ‘old,’” he complained. “I’m still in my twenties, you know.”
His free arm was wrapped around the neck of a young guard so tightly that the captive couldn’t make a sound. The youth exhaled in quick, short breaths and stared up at Berkens with a mixture of anger and fear.
“I thought you’d be showing up about now,” Shannon said unenthusiastically.
“Good! Then I don’t need to explain much. I need you to help me stop the strategic level magic from being activated.”
“Why should we bother?”
As Shannon spoke, he heard a small gasp from Pacifica. She stared up at him in shock, but Raquel held her back.
“I don’t know if you’ve heard or not,” Shannon told Berkens flatly, “but we’re fugitives of the Mauserist church. If Blasphemers’ Garden succeeds with their little plan, the church and this entire country will be in so much chaos that they’ll be too busy to come after us. We have every reason to help these guys.”
“Do you really mean that?”
Shannon shrugged with disinterest. “You must really love your job, Berkens—if you get in the way of these people, they’ll do everything they can to kill you. Why risk your life for the church if you’re a drop-out?”
“What difference does it make to you?” Berkens snapped.
“Just answer me. Maybe it’ll make me change my mind.”
Berkens glared at Shannon, an uncharacteristic fury in his eyes.
In the next few moments of silence, the tension in the air grew thick. Shannon saw Pacifica tremble out of the corner of his eye.
“That’s a difficult question.” Berkens was the first to let up. His shoulders relaxed as he made a sour smile. “I’m a drop-out, maybe, but do you know what I dropped out of?”
“I have a pretty good idea.” Shannon crossed his arms. “But I want to hear you say it.”
Berkens sighed. “The Purgers,” he mumbled.
Pacifica was the only one surprised. Shannon and Raquel didn’t bat an eye, and the young guard was too busy trying to breathe.
“Do you know just what the Purgers are like?” Berkens asked darkly.
“I’ve crossed paths with a few, yeah.”