Chapter 34

CHAPTER THREE Life in a Flask Heavy silence enshrouded Cell 045. At the middle of the hush were two men, sitting cross-legged before each other in the middle of the room. The two girls, Takahashi and Aoba, watched from the former’s upper bunk bed. “U-um…Takahashi.” “Yeah?” “Wh-what’s the relationship between those two?” “Uhh… That’s a good question…” Takahashi cocked her head. They were…not friends. That much was certain. That said, they weren’t enemies at this point. Although they once fought to the death, she had seen them reconcile to work together already. So if one were to describe their relationship in one word, it would be… “Acquaintances…I guess?” Takahashi went with the safest bet. “Gram,” said Veltol. “What?” “Your scowl is terrorizing Aoba,” Veltol barked, scowling. “Hmph. I’m not scowling… And anyway, you’re also—Actually, you’re right.” Gram stood up and turned toward Aoba. He bowed with a friendly smile. “I’m sorry to have scared you. I should’ve been more considerate. I was just surprised to see someone I knew in the cell. My name is Gram. Nice to meet you.” “H-hi. I’m Aoba 100F…” Aoba peeked half of her face from the bed before pulling back in. Takahashi thought about how adorable she looked like that. She was similar to Machina, although Machina was like a loyal dog, while Aoba was closer to a kitten. So Takahashi scratched the kitten’s chin. The kitty-girl blinked repeatedly in confusion. “Well then, Gram,” said Veltol. “What are you doing here?” “I…” He glanced at Aoba. “Pay her no mind. Although she is a Yokohama citizen, she will not report us. I guarantee that.” “If you say so…” “Let us exchange information, shall we? I suspect you are not here for sightseeing. What is your objective? If you happen to know anything about this place, please do tell.” “Haah…” Gram sighed before acquiescing. “I’m here for a job. I snuck into Yokohama to conduct an investigation.” “A job…? Investigation…?” “Yes. A contact of mine started a business, and I work there now, so…” “Stop. One second. You have a job?! Hero Gram has sold his soul to a corporation to become a man with a salary?! How did you even get one when I couldn’t for the life of me?!” Veltol clutched at his hair before holding out his hand in front of Gram. “It appears I’ve grossly mistaken you… I thought you were more of a…a freelanced soul… That’s what I wanted you to be… But time is not a compassionate mistress… I see… So you’ve become a wage slave…” “What do you care? Not like it’s that much different from before. I used to be in the knights order.” “The knights order is not a private enterprise!” “What’s the difference?!” Gram cut the topic short and cleared his throat. “Anyway, our chief director has some contacts, and we got a tricky job from FEMU.” “Hmph… Is it about Scream?” Gram’s eyes grew wide. “You knew about it?” “It was only a shot in the dark. Continue.” “…FEMU fears Scream will become an epidemic. They turn the other cheek when drugs are sold and bought under their control, but this one has gotten out of hand. They need to crush the manufacturer. They already got the trading location.” “Yeah, we found boxes with what looked to be Scream in Yokohama’s warehouse,” Takahashi added. “You knew about it, too? But that’s not enough decisive evidence. With the Yakuza Guild, the G6, FEMU, Goar…there’s too many players around Yokohama, and they can’t interfere directly. I heard they tried to sneak in multiple times before, but… Veltol, have you seen anyone else from the outside here?” “No. Although I heard rumors about someone, but they got killed after they resisted and tried to escape. In any case, it appears it’s only us, at least so far as the lower stratum goes.” “…I thought so. That’s where I come in.” “A third party entirely unrelated to the G6 and FEMU. So you came here to look into the source of Scream.” “Yes. FEMU’s troops are on standby. With the number of hands at work here all intricately strung together, they need decisive, direct evidence. So I was hired to search for it. What about you?” “I’m here looking for Sihlwald.” “Sihlwald…the Black Dragon?” “Indeed.” “Here? But why…? No, I suppose I better not pry further. Hold on—shouldn’t I try to stop you? I can’t let you expand your forces. There’s no way you’re up to any good.” “Silence. Instead, I have a proposal for you.” Veltol’s smile widened as he stretched his arms. “Let us join hands.” He had a haughty look on his face. “It will be but a short alliance while we remain on the island, of course,” he added. “Ugh…” Gram frowned. “…Why are you looking at me like that? This is isolated enemy land. An unusual environment. Having allies can only be a good thing. I get more hands, and you get information. Indeed, this is what they call a win-win. Am I wrong?” “You make a lot of sense, but I can’t say I like having you ask me to help you out…” “What? You don’t trust me?” “I don’t!” “Hmph…” Nobody noticed that Veltol was pouting slightly, hurt by Gram’s response. Veltol sincerely wanted to collaborate, no schemes. But he and Gram were once enemies. It was only natural that the Hero would be suspicious of the Demon Lord suggesting such a good idea. “…Isn’t it a good idea?” Veltol asked Gram. “I mean, it’s not bad, but…” “I’d also feel at ease with you on our side, Grammy,” Takahashi said cheerfully. “I-if Takahashi says it’s okay, th-then I…agree…,” Aoba added, confused. Gram kept frowning. Takahashi surmised that he might not feel so bad about it if only it wasn’t Veltol suggesting it, and Veltol probably realized that, too. “Then we shall once more form an alliance.” With that, Veltol held out his right hand. “Okay, but only because they asked, too.” Gram did the same, forcing a smile. The Hero and the Demon Lord shook hands. “It’s been a while, Takahashi,” Gram said. “I guess we’re back at it again.” “Yep!” Takahashi waved from the bed. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aoba.” “Y-you too!” “That aside.” Gram turned to Veltol again. “I gotta say I’m shocked.” “About what?” “About you wearing a uniform. I’d figured you’d rather die.” “Ha. Why would I make it harder for myself to intrude into my destination?” “How did you get here anyway?” “We snuck into Yokohama territory in Goar, and after some turns and twists, we arrived here.” “So you got arrested.” “…You could also put it like that.” “Oof. That sucks.” “What?! This was my plan all along! I let myself be captured! How did you get in here?!” “Ugh. I—I snuck onto a Yokohama ferry…” “And?” Gram looked away and continued, his voice even lower. “…Got arrested at the port.” “Ha! Pathetic! Oof! Big oof! They should extend your sentence! Add idiocy crime to your tally!” “It was my Plan B, anyway! You just went with the flow!” “Shut your mouth, you insolent fool!” “Ow! Ow, ow! Get off, you jerk!” The two grown men—both over five hundred years old—grappled each other like squabbling children. “T-Takahashi, Takahashi…,” Aoba stammered. “Yeah?” “Are they…on bad terms?” “Uh… Hmm…” She thought for a solid ten seconds. “I think they’re good friends.” The two kept fighting until an officer heard the ruckus and yelled at them. The day after Gram arrived, he and Veltol went to wash up after work. They removed their uniforms and entered the abhisheka showers. The lower stratum showers did not have the luxury of being divided by gender, nor did they have personal partitions. It was all out in public view. As they could choose the time to do it, they had decided that Veltol and Gram showered before Takahashi and Aoba used the room. The abhisheka room had a cracked tiled floor and was big enough to fit twenty people. Other citizens came and went during their shower. “We can have a private talk here. No one understands elvish.” “…I see.” They could have simply spoken elvish in the cell, so this implied that Veltol did not want Takahashi to hear what he was about to say. Gram turned the valve, and lukewarm water trickled down. The room had no soap or shampoo—nothing more than water. At least they had a shower. Not bad compared to his life up to now. Veltol by his side had to crouch a little, as the shower head was shorter than his own head. Never actually considered it, but of course this guy takes showers… Drying all that hair looks like a drag…, Gram thought, shooting him a sidelong glance. Gram had no big scars from his neck up, but everywhere else was plastered with them, big and small. Including those from his fight with Veltol five hundred years back. Meanwhile, Veltol’s body was immaculate. Such was the difference between Gram’s eternal youth and Veltol’s immortality. “So,” Veltol said. “What did you think about your first day?” “Well…” Gram pondered. The iron island dominated by the “god” Progenitor and the absolute law of the Canon. Gram gathered his thoughts based on what he’d heard from Veltol and what he’d seen that day. “To be quite honest…it’s more normal than I thought. I pictured it more stagnant and unsalvageable.” Gram had been locked up at an elf kingdom prison once by mistake, and the terrible conditions and constant fighting between inmates and prisoner heads, not to mention the corruption among warders and the spiteful punishment they handed out, was something he would rather forget. In comparison, the order and cultural standard in Yokohama’s lower stratum was utopian. He had imagined something more like the former before he came here. But that also gave him the creeps. It was too peaceful. “Because the inhabitants are so good-hearted and obedient, correct? Although some of them dominate others through violence, they are few and far between.” “Other thing that catches my attention is how scattered the aether is. I think it has to be artificial… But wouldn’t it be too excessive to thin out the aether on the whole island just to keep the prisoners from using magic?” “The whole island… Heh. You haven’t realized? I suppose it shouldn’t be surprising, as aether detection requires finesse. Of course a man like you wouldn’t notice.” “Yeah, yeah, I’m an oaf.” “From what I can tell, the lower you go, the denser aether becomes. The aether levels on the island are not zero. Not only did they set up a barrier to block out the outside’s aether, but they’ve put in place a filter so it won’t flow upward. Perhaps the most natural method, considering the reality of Aoba’s people. That is to say, there is something down there.” “…Hold on. What do you mean by ‘the reality of Aoba’s people’?” Veltol’s jaw dropped in disbelief, and he looked up at Gram incredulously. “Wh-what?” Gram stammered. “You haven’t realized? Heh. What can you do?” Veltol brushed his hair up, sending drops of water flying, like when a dog shook itself dry. He smirked. “I shall show you the answer, ignorant Hero.” “Stop wasting time and spit it out already.” Veltol closed the valve. “Aoba’s people—the ten thousand citizens of Yokohama—are not people, per se.” So said the Demon Lord. “…They’re not people?” “Do not misunderstand me. I respect them as individuals, and I am not talking about the current times’ ethics. This is simply my viewpoint according to my knowledge of the magical arts.” Veltol brushed his hair to his back and grabbed it into a bunch by his nape, after which he wrung it dry. “They are homunculi.” “Homunculi…” Artificial life-forms created through alchemy, a type of magic. They were made by mixing people’s physical composition data and souls with alchemic materials. They had low immune systems, no reproduction capabilities, and high compatibility with magic. As Veltol said, in the field of sorcery of Alnaeth, homunculi were not recognized as people. This was not based on biology, ethics, morals, or societal norms; the logic was simply that, as the gods did not give their blessing of this taboo, they were not people. And in the modern world… “That is a huge violation of the code of ethics…,” Gram muttered. All mediumship, including necromancy’s soul cloning and alchemy’s homunculi, were taboo in modern sorcery. They were established as ethical code violations in most cities and corporate treaties. Simply put, it was a crime. Additionally, the boundaries between homunculi production and regenerative medicine like organ cloning were blurry, and due to the conflicting ideologies—mostly from neo-naturalist elves—such fields of medicine were behind in progress, giving rise instead to magiborgs. “So they thin out the aether because homunculi can use magic naturally,” Gram said. “I have no solid proof of this. It is but a guess born from the data gathered by my special skills.” Veltol took a deep breath to collect his thoughts. “There are eighteen types of souls and thirty-six types of bodies in this city. I imagine they reverse engineered the souls of the original humans to modify their biological information and create two types of models: F and M. They added eighteen types of souls to each of them, and were given eighteen different names… That is the reality behind this city’s homunculi.” “Soul cloning on top of homunculi… This is far more serious than Scream. Ethic code violation is enough of a reason to give FEMU rein to force an investigation. But we still need absolute proof.” The two of them left the shower room and headed to the lockers. “Homunculi… So that’s why there are no other species?” Gram said. “Hmm? You hadn’t noticed?” “Oh, give me a break. I thought that just happened to be the population here… In any case, why make homunculi?” “They are consumables.” “What?” “Catalysts, materials, offerings, spares. Call them whatever you want. Sacrifices made to gather faith. The brainwash-like education and the daily prayers are good proof of that. Faith set to a specific orientation gives greater results than vague feelings. And being homunculi that cannot reproduce makes them easier to manage as well.” “Faith… So the Progenitor really is a divine being?” Fundamentally, faith came from the positive feelings of beings of lower spiritual levels toward those of higher levels. Beings on the same spiritual level could not give faith power to each other. Thus, it stood to reason the Progenitor was divine. “If we’re going by theory, yes.” “…What do you mean?” Veltol put on his cheap prison-issue underwear as he continued. “Their souls are of one level lower than humans’—that is to say, their soul composition is more similar to that of demons.” The demons he meant were a bit different from the evil beings with horns and tails from religious depictions. Spiritually lower beings that fed on negative faith, that is, negative emotions such as anger, sadness, or fear, were called, in sorcery studies, demons. They lived in a world on a different layer than people lived in, and fundamentally, they could not intervene with people. People had to call the demons to have communication, and they were seen as the polar opposites to the spiritually higher beings that were gods. “I have not magically observed their souls, to be certain, but I doubt my deduction is wrong.” Gram didn’t doubt him, either. This man had to have grounds to think so. “Question, then: Why would the Progenitor do something so bothersome so as to lower their spiritual level?” Gram pondered while putting on his uniform. Veltol was an exception in his capability to obtain faith from both positive and negative sources. Fundamentally, one could only earn positive faith from a lower being to a higher one. I’m reminded once again that this guy’s cheating. Why would he need to lower the homunculi’s spiritual level? Gram already had his answer. “…Because he can’t get faith otherwise!” “Exactly. Were the Progenitor a spiritually higher being than man, a god, he would have no need to. No extra steps needed to earn faith. Ergo, the Progenitor is no god, but a human.” Veltol nodded. “There are two ways for people to obtain faith—particularly positive faith. Either raise their own spiritual level or earn it from those lower. The former is no easy task. The latter is more realistic in comparison. No demon would normally have faith in a person, but it is not impossible through a contract.” “But what does the Progenitor want, going to such lengths?” “Hmm… It appears I’ve overestimated you, Hero Gram…” “Huh? What? So you know?” “I do,” Veltol responded immediately. “The Progenitor wants to truly become a god.” Gram cocked his head. “How can you know?” “What else could be the goal of one trying to raise their spiritual level through faith but to become a god?” “But didn’t you do the same?” “Fool. My spiritual level rose as a side effect of my overcoming my demise. I was not looking to become a god. Also, in this game I played recently, the last boss was such one guy trying to become a god.” “Gosh. All speculation and you’re using games as your source…” “Games can teach you anything. I doubt you’ve ever given them a fair shake. You give me your contacts once this battle ends, and I shall send you my top selection of games.” He’s really adapted to the times, huh? “And there is one more secret to the homunculi of this island.” “What?” “I could tell you, but you will have to lend me your hand in my escape from prison.” “Fine, fine. I can’t say no anyway. Just tell me.” “Heh. So you understand. Very well, then. I shall tell you the secret.” Veltol patted down his uniform. “The operation time of this city’s homunculi—that is, the life span of Aoba and her brethren is…” “Four… years…?” Takahashi dropped her towel. She had just finished a pleasant shower with Aoba and had put on her underwear. It was right as she was putting on her uniform that she heard that. The details had poofed out of her mind from the shock, but after she just asked her birthday, the conversation led to Aoba saying she had a four-year life span. “That’s it?! But how?! Why?!” “Wh-what can I say? W-we are produced in a flask where our mothers provide us with the necessary education, and then operation begins once we’ve grown enough. The span of operation is four years. We come of age at the age of two years.” “Wait, then how old are you now?” “Two…” There was no gravitas in Aoba’s voice. She was merely explaining the facts. Which only made Takahashi sadder. Life spans varied. One didn’t have to be immortal or eternally young—human lives were short from the point of view of elves. But even so, giving a span of only four years to a manufactured life was too short. “You see, I’m…seventeen.” Cruel words. Something she shouldn’t say to an innocent, oblivious girl. Something she normally wouldn’t have said. But as she hesitated whether to do it or not, the words just came out of her mouth. “Huh…?” “I…I want you to live longer… Aoba… Aoba…!” Takahashi held Aoba’s thin, ephemeral body. Her warmth communicated the fact that she was alive. The next day, during service work. “Hey, Velly…,” Takahashi began timidly, bringing Aoba with her to the grinder where Gram and Veltol worked. “Is it true that Aobas only have a life span of four years?” “Hmm? Oh, did she tell you? I’ve asked multiple people now, so it must be true.” Veltol’s voice was unchanged, in contrast to the severity in Takahashi’s. “I know not whether it was to maintain this number or if it was a secondary effect of manipulating their souls to drop their levels, or perhaps both, but indeed, I hear they begin aging rapidly after turning three. Apparently, Izumi was three and a half years old.” “…But we just became friends… It’s not fair that she’ll die in two years…” Takahashi’s face grew dark. “Takahashi…” Aoba looked at her with worry. Four years was too short even from a human perspective. “I want to be with you, too. But…this is my destiny…” “Can’t you…do something about it?” Takahashi asked Veltol. “Yes.” “You can?!” “What?!” Takahashi’s and Aoba’s jaws dropped at how easily he said it. “The corporeal information—what they call genes in this age—haven’t been directly modified.” “So it’s not about, like, telomere length or whatever.” “It’s not the body but the soul that has been altered through magic. As the both of them are closely linked, by manipulating the spiritual information, naturally, the body is affected as well. It is close to a witchcraft curse. That, along with the soul cloning… Quite the skill for the manipulation of souls.” Veltol paused. “That means that we would need the appropriate facilities…but dispelling the curse is possible. Her body is no different from a regular human’s, so dispelling it should put her back on the regular life span.” “…I get to…be with you…for longer…” Aoba clasped her hands together at her chest. “It appears my goal has changed… Or rather, my list of objectives has grown,” said Veltol. “How so?” Takahashi asked. “In addition to retrieving Sihlwald, I shall defeat this Progenitor, and liberate—nay, dominate—the souls of all citizens on this iron island.” Takahashi and Aoba were shocked. That meant… “I shall establish my nation upon this land and use it as a base for conquering the world.” Veltol said this with absolute seriousness. “That is my additional objective for this quest.” Aoba tilted her head. “Establish…your nation?” She did understand the concept of a nation. It was a land with diplomatic ability that was greater than a city. She also understood how difficult that would be. “B-but…that can’t be possible.” It was too ridiculous. Any sane person would think he was joking. “The Progenitor is absolute. A-and we have a fixed operation time… You can’t just…give us hope like that.” Nonetheless, she couldn’t bring herself to laugh it off. No matter how ridiculous and unrealistic it was, when it came from this man’s mouth, somehow, it felt possible. “It is possible. I shall personally liberate you from your curse. Although we will need big-scale preparations first.” His words deeply resonated in Aoba’s heart, like rain falling in a desert. “It’ll all be okay, Aoba,” Takahashi said. “I’m sure Velly can do it if he says so. Everything will go all right.” A light shone in Takahashi’s eyes. Aoba felt something for Veltol, something different from the faith she had in the Progenitor. Trust, perhaps? She couldn’t quite name it yet. “So live, Aoba. With me.” “Yes… Yes!” Takahashi hugged Aoba tight, and she hugged her back. Veltol observed with satisfaction while throwing the refuse into the loudly spinning grinder. “And to establish a nation, what I find the most exciting is the creation of commercial routes. I do not plan on exporting illegal drugs, but there must be many loopholes for a city so special. Strategically—” “Hold on—what’s all this about founding a nation you’ve been talking about?” Gram paused his work to rain on Veltol’s parade. “Are you being serious, Veltol?” His voice lacked his usual softness—it was sharp and cold. Hostile. “G-Grammy?” “Gram…?” Takahashi and Aoba were taken aback by his harshness. Veltol responded with equal intensity. “You ask if I am being serious? I am always serious. This place is self-sufficient and inhabited. The Progenitor has built a perfect foundation, so why would I not take advantage of it?” “And what’re you going to do once you take over the island?” “Aim for my greater goal, naturally.” “World peace? You still haven’t let go of your pipe dream?” “Pipe dream? Nay, I call it my ideal. Pipe dream is what you call something impossible to achieve. I was one step from realizing my ideal when none other than you broke it.” “And I shouldn’t have?!” His paralyzing yelling shook the air around. “Your way always involves sacrifices! What’s the point of an ideal that only comes from trampling on others?!” “Nonsense.” Veltol grabbed Gram by the collar. “There is no way to achieve the ideal without stepping on others.” “I am never letting you do that!” Gram pushed Veltol’s chest. The Demon Lord stepped back and… “Ah.” …fell into the grinder. The violent noise of blood splattering, flesh tearing apart, and bones crushing followed. Veltol’s body was literally ground to nothing. The whole team had their contribution points deducted for the work accident, and they were all sent to the correction chamber. “…” Aoba sat in a corner, hugging her knees. The chamber was small even for one person. She couldn’t lie down comfortably. There was no bed; nothing except for the crouching toilet in the corner. The place was filthy. It was more like a bathroom than anything else. It hadn’t been long since she fell from the upper stratum. Back there, everyone had one room for themselves, so she spent a lot of time alone. They were alone most of the time since manufacturing, to begin with. So she thought she was used to the loneliness—but not now. She was scared of being away from Takahashi and the rest. So big a space they had taken in her heart. “I want…to be with all of you…forever…” But now she had already lost one of her friends—at the very least, she considered Veltol a friend—and the one who said he could free her from this curse, at that. But it was the loss of her friend that made her shiver more than her own curse. Then, as though in response to her words, she heard a clang. The toilet before her eyes shook and blew up. “Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”