[SS] District 15: Putting an End to Wanderlust

People. Whether you looked right or left, up or down, before you or behind, they were all that could be seen so long as you remained within the swirling mass known as a 'crowd'. So long as one remains within the crowd, the identity of the individual is suppressed and what remains is subjected to the whims of the crowd. Its ebb and flow, its emotions, its purpose, all those properties that make the crowd up take precedence over those of the individuals that within it.

However, there were several exceptions in the crowd today. Anomalies strode among the crowd with a purpose that should not exist. Their numbers were not insignificant, either. One, two, three, eight, twenty... There were a little over two dozen of them.

As they walked, the crowd seemed to flow around them, instead of the other way around, as was the natural way of things. The crowd's ebb and flow was being guided by the will of individuals. It was subtle, and not something a layman, or even an expert, would notice. However, there was one more anomaly within that crowd.

He didn't oppose the flow of the crowd like the others anomalies, but submitted himself to it, like anyone else would. That was normal. However, if one were to look closer, and actually know what to look for, they would find it. Abundant purpose. The way he walked, the way he breathed, his every motion was infused with it, but did not effuse it in the slightest.

He was not a layman. He was not an expert. He was a specialist. And to him, the actions of the other anomalies were as obvious as the sun shining in the midday sky.

Lights flashed, and speakers blared. Cellphones, tablets, smart watches, automatic doors, televisions, blimps in the sky, advertisements flashing across electronic billboards adorning the walls of the buildings.

It was an ocean, a great sea of information many orders of magnitudes greater than the crowd that it enveloped. It was composed of news, talk shows, conversations, photographs, astrological predictions, weather forecasts, religious sermons, useless trivia, and so much more, to the point that even if you dedicated your entire life to it, you would never be able to catalog it all.

And within that sea, one particular point of light had stolen the attention of one particular individual. He stood in the crowd, and it flowed around him, the sea of information having stolen him from its influence.

It was an advertisement. Rather unremarkable, not something you’d look twice at. It was marketing a brand of shaving cream manufactured by Clear Shave, a company based outside of Academy City. In this place, isolated from the rest of the world by twenty years of technological advancement, that was reason enough to pass it by.

But that man who was so entranced by it was not looking at the ad itself, but a single line of symbols inscribed beneath the company name. It was a set of runes, or more specifically, Elder Futhark. They were something completely and utterly out of place in this bastion of science and logic.

Someone had carefully buried them deep within the sea of information that pervaded the city, with the intent of safeguarding them from any and all prying eyes.

Now that they had been noticed, however, their very existence had become a liability.

Atone788

A void. It was a blatantly unnatural thing. Within those two great masses of humans and information, there was a space where neither held any sway. There was not a single light aside from the sun in the sky. Not a single sound aside from the gusts of wind that intermittently blew between the gaps of the buildings. Not a single living being walked those streets.

Or at least, that’s how it appeared on the surface.

If you were to look but a single layer deeper, you would notice something. There was not a single light aside from the sun in the sky and not a single sound aside from the gusts of wind that blew through the gaps of the buildings, but there, walking in plain sight, were two men.

The first was dressed in the manner of a typical salary man. Suit, tie, and briefcase. Nothing out of the ordinary. Only, he was swaying. The man was hiding it well, but if one were to watch him walk, it was obvious. His body was swaying back forth, off balance. That on its was nothing out of the ordinary, and could be attributed to a great many things. The heat of the summer sun. Drinking his stress away after getting off work early. Recovering from a lack of sleep the previous night.

But the second man recognized it as something far more intriguing.

He was walking behind the first man, in plain view to any third parties, but not once did he enter the line of sight of his quarry. He had bumped into the man earlier as he navigated the crowd, and noticed it. The swaying. Back and forth, back forth.

He noticed it. Renavin, who regularly bled himself to produce his familiars, was capable of noticing something precious few could. That swaying. That was not the sway one gained from exhaustion, heat, or inebriation, but massive loss of blood. That was more than enough incentive to investigate further. He turned around and followed the man. And followed. And followed. And followed.

Eventually they left the throngs of people that made up the crowd, and entered a more secluded area. Secluded to the point that it was completely, utterly, unnatural. As they ventured deeper into the area, the sense of unease pervading the place intensified until it was capable of affecting even one such as him.

But he’d made it far enough. The salary man stopped before a building and opened the door.

From within, the unmistakable sickly sweet scent of freshly spilled blood wafted out.

Irregular. An irregularity among anomalies.

In the city, every single last one of them were moving to the same tune, toward the same goal, for the same reasons. But this group had broken off from the rest. The were moving to a different tune, running toward a different goal, and had different reasons behind their actions.

There were nine of them. They were all middle aged men in featureless beige business suits, without any striking features. But they moved to the same tune. Though different from the whole, they still acted as a small microcosm all their own.

At the moment, they stood within a small store, selling various cords and cables. Phone chargers, USB cords, anything and everything you could think of. They ran across the floor, walls, and ceiling, to the point that it looked like some sort of bird's nest.

Even so, they had a certain order to them. They coated everything, but even if one didn't know what they were, it was clear that their layout followed a set of rules. Otherwise, rather than a bird's nest, neatly woven, it would have more closely resembled a rat's nest, haphazardly thrown together.

And in that store, ten people stood. The nine irregular anomalies, separated into three groups of three, and also a single blond man with a very irritated expression on his face.

Jack Nightingale. He'd wandered into the store upon seeing a 'Now Hiring' sign plastered upon its door in hope of finally garnering a stable income. Instead, however, he'd walked straight into a people clearing field, and been surrounded by the irregularities, who moved in total harmony.

He recognized this. This lack of individuality, the composition of this field, he'd experienced it before, he himself had been taught how to do it. Those Who Seek the Truth, the magic cabal that had dragged him into the world of the occult kicking and screaming. But what were they doing in Academy City of all places?

"Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor. You left us, you left the fold, you gave up on the search. Why, why would you do that? I do not understand why one would do such a thing. But that does not matter. No, it does not matter at all. You will die here. For abandoning the great search, you shall meet yo-"

It did not seem that he would have the chance to ask them. They all spoke perfectly in tandem, with deep malice and overflowing passion catching in their throats. And in response, Jack immediately withdrew the golden hilt of his sword Tyrfing from his pocket, and rushed forward, not giving them a chance to finish speaking.

It was the correct decision. Even as he took his first step, the wires on the floor leapt up and nearly grasped his leg. Had he moved even one second later, he would have been immobilized, and left to his captor's tender mercies.

As he burst through the door and exited the site of the ambush, he took the chance to use the door as material with which to forge Tyrfing, and noticed simultaneously that the field extended to outside of the store. He wasn't in the clear yet. The chase had just begun.

---

And in his rush, he failed to notice something else. Something quite important indeed. He failed to take note of the young girl who stood in the street, watching him run. Leivinia Birdway, leader of the most prominent magic cabal in London, the Dawn-Coloured Sunlight.

Those Who Seek the Truth were, at present, an anomaly within the system that was the delicate balance between the Magic and Science Sides. As such, it is obvious that eyes were to be drawn to them, even if their specialty lied in taking action without being noticed. And in some cases, perhaps precisely because of that.

To think that irregularities among those anomalies could take action according to their own prerogatives and go unnoticed, or even unmolested, was foolish in the extreme.

Japanese Summer was something indeed iconic. Not only was it the name of an Academy City based ice cream brand, no it was actually one of those things you’d hear quite some stories of once someone began to talk about this country. The humid heat, the sounds of cicadas in the distance and a nice popsicle cooling the mouth.
Leivinia Birdway had it all and she was enjoying it just like others would world famous tourist locations, like important land marks. The girl clad into a piano like attire, a snow white dress paired up with pure black stockings, was currently standing at a street corner gracefully stuffing an oddly coloured popsicle into her mouth, occasionally taking a bite from it here and there while being surrounded by an air of nobility.

Currently however she was not only enjoying the all too famous summer atmosphere, but the even greater joys of a spectator, only that the great spectacle wasn’t all that great.

«Truly, the Japanese have some weird tastes in their minds. Who’d come up with something like green tea curry-cheesecake flavour?»

Mumbling words so far off from the current situation her eyes didn’t cease following what was going on in front of her for a mere second. Some may even assume that she would simply be some idiot that had accidentally stumbled into a life threatening situation with no idea what those things actually meant believing they were some life action street performance backed up by this city’s hyper futuristic technology. That wasn’t the truth, though.
The real truth, the absolute, was the simple fact that this girl, Leivinia Birdway, was a Magician and not even an ordinary one like those whose motions she had been following for a while now. Leivinia Birdway was the boss of one of the UK’s largest Golden Style Magic Cabals, The Dawn-Coloured Sunlight – a name that would truly make one shiver in fear.

Obviously that girl of about 12 was something more than the average and yet she still held back as if there was no need to interfere. She wasn’t allied with those people in the beige suits, nor was she an acquaintance of the one fleeing from them. Her interest in that situation wasn’t to oppose any of them either. All she had come for was to remain on the position of a spectator; that had been her initial reason to begin with.
For that sole reason she had been following a certain cabal’s actions for quite while. Watching and learning. They were interesting after all. Well otherwise she wouldn’t have gone through the complicated process of making a few deals and bringing up a few tactical means in order to infiltrate the capital of the enemy territory Academy City.

A smile had formed on her face. It wasn’t the kind of ladylike smile you’d expect such a high class maiden to wear but one of pure evil.

«Mark, it seems I finally set my eyes on something a little worthwhile.»

The blood joker smiled happily as he typed away on the cellphone in hand, a cute little strap added to the phone. He saw them in the store. He bought himself a strap with a metal bird, dangling from the accessory, glistening from the sun as it reflected the light. "Adalia should like this one." He held up the spare in his hand, showing one of similar design, but this one had a cute cat on it instead. He almost bought some sort of frog accessory, but he recalls that Adalia doesn't like that whatever the frog thing was called. He bought her a game called "Gekota's Road Run" which appeared to be for kids but apparently it was relatively addictive. Just get across the street without dying basically. But she returned to say "What kind of child do you take me for...huh?" He said awkwardly to himself, reminiscing on the memory. She talked about princesses and nights, yet has a frog is too child friendly for her. What a handful. "...Hm?"

A figure, a man in a well kept suit, briefcase and tie, came before him, walking ruggedly down the sidewalk. Nothing but the wind and his footsteps made any sound as his shoulder bumped into Renavin, but continued forward regardless. The man took no effort to apologize or get angry, only kept moving in an ominous manner. At first glance, it would appear that he was exhausted, heat bearing down on this honest businessman as his thick suit kept him sweating. However, Renavin knew that this pattern in his movements wasn't from mere exhaustion, but it was as if the man was going through great pain, stabbed, shot or otherwise. He knew very well from the times he cut himself to create familiars, or whenever am opponent was at his last knees. This was definitely abnormal.

"...." Renavin didn't remember what he did from there, because within a couple minutes he found himself in front of a building, the haggard man swaying his way to it and ultimately opening the door slowly. A sudden air current rushed out toward the open skies and managed to reach the Magician's nostrils, one quick breath. He knew this smell, and in a sense he could partially taste it whether by illusion or reality, but there was no mistake. It was the essence of life in many creatures on earth, a precious red liquid which was blood. The man in the suit did not hesitate to walk right in. Was he perhaps suicidal, or something far darker than he could imagine. It wa sa high possibility since his organization can be rather dark themselves.

"...Heheheh..." Another lowly chuckle came from the lips of the magician, as he took out his special summoning deck, and his sacrificial dagger. He was wonderfully curious about what was taking place in this somewhat suspicious structure. It tickled at his desire and pushed him forward as he walked straight toward the door and poked a wound into his hand. A really small one but it was to summon two special creatures. One was a raven, his finger rubbing against the paper to summon it's physical form, it's light absorbing wings flapping as it began looking around for a place to perch, hoping to look through a window to gather information. Another was a spider, although normally using a snake, no one should bother with such an adorable creature. He smiled greatly at his eight legged friend as he petted it's small but poison manufacturing body. "Now don't cause any trouble now, just look inside, or Ren-chan is going to be mad, okay?~" He spoke to is as if it were a child, the spider simply clicking it's tiny fangs together as he is set free, crawling past the door and will gather whatever it can from inside. Climbing on walls, through air vents and using furniture to hide if need be. It was relatively big, nor small, but if it is ordered to, one bite could end someone's life.

"Now we play the waiting game...Oh I can't wait to see what's inside.~" He put his hand to his cheek, almost fantasizing about what challenge could possibly be in there, if there was any reason to go in and have his fun. Academy City was so much fun, he just couldn't wait to see what this new event had in store for him.

The city was disgusting. Everyone was self-absorbed, only concerned with the huge amount of screens that glutted the place and what they could get through them. And, worse, nobody else seemed like they weren't enjoying it. It was like watching a cult of technology, constantly staring at their false idols.

Ascanius walked down the crowded sidewalk, stooping over so that his European height wouldn't be as apparent in the city where most people were shorter. It was a hot and windy day, and the windmills were turning in full force. He couldn't fault them for their use of clean energy, but... when they used it for such a messed-up purpose...

As he was about to turn the corner, one particularly strong gust came barreling down the street he was turning onto, blowing his hat off his head. His arm shot out, just barely grabbing the back of it before it flew into the busy street. As replaced it back on his head, he happened to look up, and blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

It was an advertisement for some sort of shaving cream, insignificant enough. Except, of course, for the part of the advertisement that had just as much business being in Academy City as he himself did. That is, none at all.

Clearly printed underneath the brand name was a set of runes which ought to only be known by the magical world. If they were on this advertisement, it was either a complete coincidence, or there was something else going on here. Most likely the second. He couldn't read them himself, but with presence of mind he copied down the symbols before the electronic screen changed to a different advertisement, one much more mundane.

Ascanius walked faster now, trying to find a cheap café where he could order a 200-yen coffee and sit for a few hours while he composed his report. He entered one in the middle of the street block, placed an order, and sat down at a small table in the back to write his letter.

"Ascanius Benedict, OSA
Encountered at 10:37 this morning, JST, an anomaly. Magical runes on an advertisement for Clean Shave company, exact message enclosed. Requesting translation, information, and permission to investigate."

He folded up the sheet of paper and the runes he'd copied, and stuffed them inside one of the envelopes he also kept inside his coat for emergencies like this. They had stamps that were magically linked to the mailroom for the Roman Catholic complex under the Vatican, so that he could quickly and securely deliver reports from inside the city. He licked the envelope closed and pressed the stamp.

If anyone was looking, it would seem as if he'd pushed the envelope inside the table. But, then again, things like that weren't too unusual in the City of Science. Now just to wait for a response.

Atone788

First, carve an eagle, symbolic of blood death, into the victim’s back. Once that has been done, rip out their ribs, top to bottom, one by one until none remain, and then tear out their lungs, taking their final breaths with them.

That is the blood eagle, an obscure ritualistic execution method that dedicates the victim as a sacrifice to Odin mentioned in but a scarce few texts of Norse poetry, as well as the source of the thick stench of blood that had wafted out from the door.

Normally, such a ritual would result in the death of the victim. However, such a thing was far too impractical to put to use. If they sacrificed uninvolved outsiders, they would gain the attention of organizations such as Necessarius, and if they sacrificed their own members, then their numbers would be cut down in no time.

Those Who Seek the Truth, however, had several methods to get around that issue. They carved portions of the eagle into multiple people’s backs, lessening the burden on the individual, ‘ripped’ out the air held within lungs instead of the organs themselves, and settled for cracking or breaking ribs instead of removing them.

Such measures, however effective, would inevitably affect the purity of the ritual. For every corner they cut, its effectiveness would drop by an equal measure. But if they did the ritual twice, then those drops in effectiveness could be mitigated. And the more they repeated the ritual, the closer they would get to closing the gap, until the lesser ritual surpassed the full one in terms of results.

That was why there was such a thick scent of blood. Even if you bled out an entire human body, you wouldn’t be able to create such a pungent stench, but during their time in the city, the magicians had already undergone the ritual countless, countless times, slowly but surely fixing the gears in place for the framework of the greater ritual the entire cabal was working towards.

Due to the large scale, even the slightest error would have visible effects. To counter that, they had many safeties in place to notify them of any and all irregularities in the parameters of the ritual, triangulate their locations, and identify them.

At its core, the blood eagle was a sacrifice of blood. The intent of Renavin’s magic may have been different, but its nature was significant enough to disrupt the carefully calculated parameters of the ritual and activate the safeties.

In tandem, the magicians noticed. A spider, a raven, and a man with a wicked smile. Those four magicians in identical beige business suits wasted no time, as the longer they tarried, the more the ritual would be delayed. Even if it didn’t cause any permanent damage and the delay could only be measured in milliseconds, the enemy they were trying to conquer was such that even such a small amount of time could be fatal.

In unison, they opened their briefcases and extracted two out of place objects. A bottle of honey and a small knife. Without hesitation, they cut into their forearms, dipped the now blood-soaked blades into the honey, and drank.

It is said that the wise god Kvasir’s blood was drained from his body and mixed with honey to create a mystical potion known as the Mead of Poetry, said to grant whoever imbibes it the skill and knowledge to solve any problem. In truth, however, it is a metaphor for poetic inspiration. And Odin, the chief god of the Norse pantheon is known as a god of ‘possession’, granting both berserker rage and the same inspiration granted by the mead.

Here, in this building that had long since become a temple died in Odin’s colors, it was a simple matter to interpret the effect of the mead as ‘granting the blessings of Odin’, and reinterpreting the type of possession as an insane rage.

As the spell took effect, they forgot their injuries. Their pain faded away their postures steadied, their muscled bulged, and their eyes dilated. Gripping their blades, covered with sweet honey and dripping sweeter blood, tighter than ever, they moved towards the door that separated them from their enemy.

---

Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, and twenty. The clock kept ticking away, but no matter how long he waited, there was no reply. There wasn’t even any indication that the church had received Asacanius’ report.

Usually, the church was far more punctual than this. And usually, one did not find runes among Academy City’s billboards. It may have simply been a coincidence. The people in the church who were in charge of replying were only human, after all.

On the other hand, though, even the barest possibility of the spell having been interrupted, or worse, intercepted by a third party was far too dangerous to not take into consideration. After all, if that was the case then they would certainly be aware of his presence in the city, and possibly of the fact that he was aware of theirs.

It would be an act of extreme naiveté bordering on utter stupidity to ignore such a danger.

Kuro Akarui strode through the crowd, just enjoying which was at first an enjoyable day to take some time off to enjoy the sights. His station in Academy City was as normal as ever, and actually led him to wonder if he'd ever even meet his "objective" in its borders. But as long as he was free to act as he pleased within that station, he couldn't care less how long it lasted. For he lived as carefree as the wind, living day to day facing life as he encountered it. He blended in with the crowd as the Amakusa always did, always concealing, always observing. He was just another cog in the machine of society; one of the many; separated yet whole. But as he walked, he became irritated by the obvious disturbance to the flow. Those who diverted the stream of the masses as they walked undeterred, manipulating the flow of the crowd so that they may stay true to their goal.

Kuro paused for a second to take another look at these individuals who opposed the natural flow of the city. The way they walked with such purpose, they were definitely up to something. And it was not scientific in nature. These guys were magicians, and this was some sort of ritual or array. Kuro decided to investigate by taking the direct approach. Siding up just behind one of the anomalies, he decided to break the ice with some light conversation.

"Hi there buddy, where are you off to today?"

"Hohooooooo~." Renavin looked at them, giving them slight praise as his suspicions were correct. This was not the act of science, but of magic. He was right to follow the man. Two magicians were made present, and even conjured a spell just for this fight. This was exciting, he almost wanted to go all out right now and kill everyone in that building. However, he calmed himself. "You two first huh? Not that I don't mind a little warm up, but please don't take me lightly, that'll just kill you more quickly."

Renavin quickly clapped his hands together, the blood from his right hand stuck to the one on the left, without much of a drop flying out. He then formed two handles using both his hands, the blood seeming to stretch and morph into a blade with two handles before it broke in half, making two. Renavin's strategy was simple. Speed and damage were his advantage, since judging by there bodies and facial expressions, they may have been turned into dumb brutes. One hit can be devastating, but with their new lumbering bodies, they are slower than he is.

"Hehehe~! Come at me!!" He yelled in pure ecstasy as he lunged forward, with his blades poised to strike. His speed was much faster than the average human, let alone these two muscle head magicians. Why use such a spell? Were they not expecting to win this battle? Buying time perhaps? He wanted to end this quickly and find out what was going on.

First he was going to leap above whoever attacks first and throw one of the long blades directly into their back. He's confident he could penetrate it deep enough to start heavy bleeding, but the muscle fibers are now thicker then ever, thus he would probably need to kick the handle in in order to deepen it. But with the location he had in mind on their body, they shouldn't be able to reach the blade and pull it out easily.

The minutes ticked away, and Ascanius' cup drained and refilled at least 5 times before he began to worry. On one hand, the Church may simply be taking a longer time than usual. He'd need to be here if they sent a reply, or else the response envelope could be compromised. On the other, the envelope he sent may very well have been compromised already, and by a dangerous group of people. In that case, they'd know exactly where he sent it from: The stamps weren't hard to trace back. If that were true, then it was extremely risky to stay in that spot. But what could he do if the Church was replying, just as he was waiting?

Ascanius made up his mind. He took the napkin from the table, quickly wrote "DO NOT REPLY TO PREVIOUS LETTER," slapped a stamp on it and pushed it into the table. He'd wait for 5 more minutes to make sure nothing was going to occur, and then he'd leave. It definitely wasn't a good position to be in. He'd need to make contact with either another letter, or some different means of communication. If he didn't, he'd need to investigate and translate the runes himself, something that he wasn't sure would be possible in Academy City. Most science-focused places didn't have "Obscure Magical Language-to-Latin" dictionaries lying around, after all.

Renavin will win this fight. Even an amateur could tell. Where they wielded tools meant for sacrifice, he held weapons created for murder. His opponents had physical strength in spades, but his agility was more than enough to make up for that deficiency. That and his sharp blades would grant him a swift and decisive victory.

Even an amateur could tell. All they would need is a single glance. And therein lies the issue. Renavin would win. His defeat was predetermined. So why was it that the magicians had brazenly charged out into the open...?

The blade soared through the air towards the first man's defenseless back. Avoiding the blow was already an impossibility. Renavin's assault had been utterly flawless, slipping straight through the enemy's guard from behind. As a result, it must have been all the more shocking for Renavin when he saw the second him lurch forward and thrust his honey-soaked knife into the blade.

There was no resistance. The worker's knife slid into the red sword like a knife into butter, and the weapon dissolved into a sanguine fluid.

The third man followed through the opening left by the second, and the fourth through the third's. All four magicians now faced Renavin, perfectly stone-faced, but with berserker madness gleaming in their eyes.

It had been the honey. When honey is mixed with blood, it forms mead. Mead is not a weapon of war, but a life-giving beverage, blessed by the gods. The spell that formed that sword had been centered on sacrifice, so when another interpretation was introduced, it lost cohesion and collapsed.

Several seconds passed, and the men rushed toward Renavin.

---

"Hi there buddy, where are you off to today?"

Upon hearing those words, the man stopped in his tracks. As the crowd began flowing around him, he turned to face Kuro. He didn't show it, but he was confused. Whether they were a normal person or an esper, they shouldn't have been able to do something like start a conversation with him. His rune magic made it so that even if someone saw him, they'd get the impression that there was 'no reason to bother him', and leave him alone.  The only way for someone to speak to him despite that is for them to be a magician themselves.

But for now, that was only a suspicion, and now that he's stopped moving his compatriots should have noticed that something has gone awry. Even if the man in the black coat were to attack him, when he attempted to flee scene he'd find that all avenues had been cut off long ago. So for now, he'd just have to probe the man, and see what he could find out.

"I'm on my way to the office. I'm already running a bit late, so if you don't need anything, I'll be going now."

If he was anything at all other than an ordinary person who had slipped past his defenses by trick of fate, then that exchange would have reeked with suspicion.

Tomokota Renavin looked to his surprise, his eyes wide as his magnificent blade was reduced back to the very crimson liquid that came from his very veins. He skidded on the concrete with his dress tennis shoes and snickered a bit as the four magicians turned to face him. Undoubtedly they had no real power to negate him magic like that, however the honey itself was part of a passive spell, that practically made his abilities useless when in direct contact with it. "I see I see~! So you found a way to keep my magic at bay. Even if I summoned a couple of friends, you would be able to deal with them in one slice~..."

Despite that, Renavin dug his hand into his coat pocket and tossed three pieces of paper in the air, flapping and swinging as they drifted to the ground, more specifically onto the small puddle of blood that used to be his blade. Before the magicians realized it, an explosion of fog blocked their vision like a smoke grenade. Three wolves spread and surround the four on three sides, only meant for distraction however, staying right out of their range. In their blind rage they should have lowered their guard slightly since Renavin's presence was out of physical view. However in almost an instant, he came to view to one of the four, as he sprinted right out of the fog blocking one side of their vision, and came right at him.

The Magician took no time to act, as he moved to intercept with his lumbering body. The dagger was full proof in his eyes and  all he needed to do was block the blade. Renavin was bringing the blade horizontally from his right to his left. The long blade was easy to block, and it would soon turn to liquid as well. Such a long piece of false metal, coming at such velocity, can't possibly maneuver passed the dagger.

However, the Magician stopped moving when he realized, as Renavin took his mighty swing and he went to block...his chest pained him. His left chest cavity felt punctured, and would look down to see the red haired magician had stabbed him right into the heart. How can that be? There was no way he could've missed the blade. Renavin grinned maniacally as he removed the blade with a small splat of blood coming off his blade, onto the concrete, the magician going limp. What was in Renavin's hands was no longer a sword, but a dagger. "Honestly, I don't like using tricks all that much on my enemies, but I call what you're doing cheating. So I think I'll be okay if I do it just this once~." It was simple, the Familiar summoner had changed the form of his blade mid swing, making the blade so short that it would dodge the dagger, and would reform it to be slightly longer, enough to go right through his muscle fibers, and into his heart. "I have to say, seeing my first blade fall into a puddle scared me a bit, but then I realized...!" Renavin spread his arms in pure glee as the Magicians returned their attention to him.



"THAT SUCH FEARS ARE INCREDIBLY INVIGORATING~!!!"

As he ran, panting, he went over the current situation. He was being chased by a group of magicians, they seemed to be from the cabal he'd left all those years ago, and they seemed to want to kill him because he left. That was all he knew, and that knowledge only served to spark new questions. It'd been years since he left, so why would they come after him now? ...More importantly, how'd they know to lure him in with a 'Now Hiring' sign?! Were they stalking him or something?! Was that supposed to be some sort of joke at his expense?!

"Calm down, calm down. Getting worked up over your unemployment won't fix anything!"

As he spoke to himself in an attempt to calm down, he rounded a corner and abruptly stopped. This was a chance. Before he couldn't afford to turn around since that would leave a (possibly fatal) opening, but in the instant between the time he turned the corner and the time the magicians followed suit Jack was completely out of the enemy's range of vision. If there was a time to turn the tables, it was now.

He positioned himself so that he could swing Tyrfing at a moment's notice, and he did so the moment the first man turned the corner. From several feet away, the blow that should have never hit cleanly severed the man's forearm at the elbow.

That was not what he had intended. In Norse mythology, the numbers three and nine had great symbolic importance. There were nine worlds, there were three Norns, and the world tree Yggdrasil had three roots. So, the fact they were a group a nine separated into smaller groups of three was no coincidence. If he were to cut down just one of them, then he'd have probably crippled their spell. So he'd aimed to sever the first man's neck with the first blow. Unfortunately, the man had raised an arm and intercepted the slash. In exchange for his arm, he'd preserved both his life and a chance of victory. And now, Jack and the enemy were within 10 meters of each other. It was too late to run. They'd settle this here.

As Jack tried to step back in order maintain some distance even as they advanced, he heard a grinding noise from the wall of the alley. It was sound of metal contorting. He hurriedly stalled his backwards motion and turned to see what was going on as he raise Tyrfing before like a shield. A drainpipe had torn itself from the wall and was twisting and turning about in the air like some sort of snake. Before he had a chance to react, it straigtened itself back to it's full length and struck him in the chest. Jack was only barely able to reposition Tyrfing so it would take the brunt of the blow.

But even so, he found himself launched into the air with his breath forcibly expelled from his lungs. His quick reactions had prevented the drainpipe from dealing any internal damage, but the sheer power behind the blow was too much for the human body to take and remain standing.

Four minutes passed, and just before the deadline Ascanius set arrived, he received a response. The message rose from the table in a manner converse to the method of delivery used previously. However, the letter held no response from the church, no information on the runes, and was not even made of paper. It was cow hide and only a single character was inscribed upon it.

An opila rune.

If Ascanius were to look up, he would notice that all the people in the area had already left, even though the rune should only just be taking effect. And if he were to observe his surroundings, he would miss something crucial. He would miss the man in an ostentatious golden suit with a build that evoked the image of a pro wrestler. He stood with outside the shop with a great javelin held in a single hand, his entire body tensing in preparation for a single forward movement. At his waist a battle axe and shield hung from a belt that stood in stark contrast to the otherwise modern-looking looking suit.

After confirming the location of his target, Ascanius, he threw the javelin. With a great clamor, it pierced through the window that separated them and rocketed straight towards his chest.

---

The three remaining magicians devoted no time to thought or planning, they simply did the natural thing. They struck out at the enemies before their eyes without giving any indication that they had even noticed Renavin. Their knives struck the wolves, and the spell that gave them form was dissolved.

Then, without wasting a beat, they turned toward Renavin. A single look in their eyes made the source of their stoicism apparent. It was not that they felt nothing for the death of their comrade, it was not that Renavin's counter had failed to surprise them, and it was not that they had any sort of plan.

They were in a blood-rage. It granted great physical strength, yes, but at the cost of all capacity for rational thought. Once they had finished their counter for Renavin's magic, they had cast off their intelligence as unnecessary and left everything to the rituals that they had done so many times in the past, which had never failed them, which had always brought the results they desired.

They had completed the ritual needed to triumph over Renavin, and then entrusted both their body and mind to it. That was where the source of their defeat would lie.

Having tossed aside the ability to even recognize that fact, the three remaining magicians rushed towards Renavin with a thrust, an overhead slash, a horizontal slash, and three great roars.

The three magicians, as expected weren't hesitant in the least bit. They showed no fear, yet not cunning at the same time. It was as if they acted on pure instinct and rage. Having no fear or any sense of danger will sadly be their downfall. As they all tried to preform a combo move on the Aztec Magician, they didn't account for themselves as Renavin simply dashed back, his glowing red eyes seeming to glint at them menacingly as he laughed. The muscular hulking bodies clashed with each other, the one who was horizontally slashing cutting his two comrades, while the one attempting to stab Renavin, ended up stabbing his comrade, though none of them seemed to be bothered by the fact, as they didn't feel any of the pain. However, with the dagger caught awkwardly, in his comrade, two of the magicians were stuck as the other tried to move to Renavin, while the other couldn't seem to pull his dagger out. The third just blindly charging.

"Ehehehehe~!" Renavin laughed as he merely dodged the first magician and took advantage of the two stuck together. His blade thirsting for their blood to be spilled spectacularly as he sprints right behind the magician, stubbornly trying to get his dagger out of the other, but the dagger was forced too deep, since the other magician didn't seem to recognize he was stabbed in his blind fury. Once he got behind him, he spun around and stabbed the magician, who tried to release the honey coated dagger from his comrade's flesh. His heart is pierced and before the other magician could properly react, he found a red blade exit the heart of his friend and into his chest, before Renavin grinned madly, kicking the two away to release his blade. "Using such a cheap spell to make you physically strong, but sacrificing your intellect, it really depresses this fight as it makes it all the more easy...I can evade your daggers and use your instincts against you.~" Renavin turned to the last one who was already charge at him. "Thanks~."

"...It was fun~."


Renavin slowly walked into the building after dealing with the last of his enemies, wiping blood off his hands and someone his clothes. He had his wolf familiars drag the bodies into an alley way for him and have a little bit of a snack while they are at it. Right now he needed to continue with his sudden investigation. Magicians, other than yours truly, shouldn't be in this city, let alone preforming magic so freely. The corpses outside were more than happy to use magic as soon as they felt they were caught. Something rather significant was taking place. With one wolf familiar by his side, he continued through the building to find what he was looking for.

As he picked himself up off of the ground, Jack warily eyed the girl who had arrived at the scene. She seemed young enough to be in elementary school, but her words, tone, and actions all spoke of both wisdom and skill beyond her years. She was obviously knowledgeable in magic, she spoke as if looking up down on the magicians from on high, and she easily dismantled their spell with a single move. Almost hesitantly, he positioned Tyrfing so that he would be able to intercept any attacks sent his way, whether from the members of his old cabal or the girl.

"Who are you?"

Ignoring the magicians for now, he spoke directly to the girl. They were disarmed and surrounded on two sides, so as long as he kept his guard up he would be safe enough even he spared some of his attention to interrogate the girl. In fact, the girl was likely more of a threat to him at the moment. Unknown abilities, unknown affiliation, unknown objectives... She stood in such stark contrast to the foes he had been facing until but a moment ago that it was simply jarring.

---

Meanwhile, the nine magicians stood in complete disarray. They had noticed a deserter in the city as they were preparing the ritual, so they had split off from the main group to dispose of him. They had chosen a spell structure to efficiently deal with him, cut themselves off from the greater ritual so that they did not inadervantanly interfere with it, and set out to kill him.

But now, a third party had interfered. They had never before seen this person, and as a result they had no idea what to do. They had no way to call for help, and even if they died here their comrades would simply assume that they had been defeated by the deserter and reaped the consequences of their own failure. Those Who Seek the Truth would have no idea of this girl's existence. It was all too possible that that simple oversight could ruin the ritual.

That was enough for them to make a decision. They did not have the proper conditions set, so they could not use a spell to escape, but there was another option. It was foolhardy, poorly thought out, and obviously a desperate measure. But they could not think of anything else.

Without a hint of hesitation to be seen in their expressions, two of the remaining men took knives from within their suits and planted them in each other's chests. With that, the two men no longer fit into the framework of their spell. They had pierced each other in the heart, having slid the blades cleanly past each other's ribs. They were already more corpse than human. With those two and the one-armed man from before out of the picture, the remaining men split into two groups.

They split into two groups of three, and a great groaning of metal could be heard once more. More and more drainpipes were bending over themselves in blatant defiance of conventional logic. They moved more sluggishly than before, but as if to make up for that deficiency, their numbers surpassed what the magicians had controlled before.

With a great crash, the four stretches of metal rushed toward the girl.

"You must think I'm a fool..."

Kuro whipped out his scarf in a rather smooth flowing motion, as well as one of his steel tessen. With both items in hand, the scarf wrapped around the tessen wielding arm, he gave the items a wave as he made a high jump to the side. From the edge of his war fan, a thin blade of compressed air was released, cutting across the "business man's" path and leaving a thin gash cut into the concrete in front of him. Kuro hadn't aimed for a direct hit yet. He wasn't done talking to this guy.

"I know an array when I see one. Don't think your simple wards or barriers can disguise you or your friends from me. Now tell me what it is you're trying to do here or I'll have to get more direct with my questioning."

As a demonstration of what he meant, Kuro whipped his hand again. This time a blade of wind flew past the other man, passing very close to his side, and sliced the post of a street sign. Kuro wasn't sure if what they were doing would attract attention, any sorts of blending magic he had on himself could only deceive for so long. A magical fight breaking out in the middle of the street was sure to turn a few heads regardless of the spells at work. He liked the idea of causing damage to the city even less, but had to remain firm if he was to get anywhere with this guy. But at least if they were discovered, Kuro could try and pass himself off as an esper...maybe.

Contrary to Kuro's expectations, no commotion occurred. Despite the gash in the concrete, no one stopped to look at it. Despite the fact that he had just attacked a man, not a single person in the crowd gave Kuro a second glance. And the salary man was included in that number. Despite the fact that the blast of wind had flew right in front of him, perfectly intercepting his path, he didn't so much as flinch and instead kept on walking as if nothing had happened. And if one were to look carefully, one would see something interesting. Normally, no matter how skilled someone was at concealing their thoughts, at burying their emotions, or at obscuring their expressions, they would let some tiny clues through their guard. But this man had none of the sort. His gaze, his posture, his gait, his breathing, there was nothing to indicate that what should have been a threat had ever so much as entered his sphere of vision. He was, well and truly, utterly oblivious to what had just occurred.

---

Of course, Kuro had not been wrong in his initial assumption. The man was indeed a magician, and he had most definitely been hard at work at crafting an array by manipulating the flow of people through the area. But he had made a miscalculation. Kuro had assumed that through a show of force, he could force a reaction, maybe some information, out of him. But the moment Kuro carried out that plan, the magician's objectives had been fulfilled. The magician had known from the beginning that he had no chance of victory against this opponent. Like the vast majority of those who called themselves members of Those Who Seek the Truth, he had no individual combat ability and had to rely on group rituals to perform combat-worthy magic. So fighting was never his intention. The moment he had stopped moving, his work on the array had been interrupted, and his comrades would have noticed. But he hadn't been sure of the nature of this meddler. Neither he nor his comrades had been sure. So, before he made his escape, he had to learn it.

And that display confirmed it. Kuro was indeed, a bonafide magician. He knew it, and his comrades surely knew it. With that, there was no reason for him to remain. However, as mentioned previously, he has no individual combat ability. Even the simple act of running away would likely end in failure. So instead, he took an unconventional route. The array that had began forming the moment he had stopped moving, a large scale version of the opila rune used to keep normal people out of magician's business, had finished by that point. So he let himself go. He cut away all his defenses and allowed himself to be overtaken by the spell. Now, just like everyone else in this crowd, he would take no notice of the unnatural. Even if he were to have his arms and legs blasted off, neither he nor the crowd he had now joined would notice. He was now completely indistinguishable from a normal person.

---

A strange thing was occurring. It was something well and truly bizarre, and all in the city took notice of it. It was not so flashy as a great blast of lightning rocking the city, a meteor falling from the skies, or a wall flung clear across the city, but it was still not something to be ignored. The air had merely grown colder. It was a simply phenomenon, and something felt so often so as to be completely normal, but this was different. The temperature did not slowly drop, but rather, it fell several degrees in the space of an instant. What did this foretell? Did anyone know?

---

Even as the salary man walked away, further changes occurred. The array shifted once more. It still held the properties it had before, akin to those of an opila rune, but a more complicated effect had now been inlaid. If he were to try leaving the crowd, then he could walk, and walk, and walk, but he would never find an end. He would, over and over again, find the same people, in what seemed to be the same place. An endless labyrinth had been created using the crowd as materials. Kuro had been trapped.

---

No matter how thoroughly he scoured the building, there was simply nothing within for Renavin to find. There were no clues to their affiliation. Nothing that would afford him the opportunity to guess at the inner workings of the now deceased magician's magic. Nothing that hinted at their goals. Truly, there was nothing of note within the building. Not a single thing, except a truly nonsensical amount of blood.

It coated the walls and the floors, and not a single drop of it appeared to have been disturbed since it fell to rest. It had soaked into every surface, had evaporated and mingled with the air, forming a sanguine mist that was almost thin enough for you to mistakenly assume that the entire building was simply painted a shade of red. The scent that Renavin had come into contact with at the beginning was nothing. It was simply a rakish vestige of what little of this hell the magicians had allowed to escape.

If Renavin had had any expertise in the field, then he would have fled the building immediately. He would have recognized that the enemies he had defeated had held an incredible danger, despite their lack of expertise in the art of war. This building, it had been made into a world all its own. A world of crimson red vermilion, where the earth, the seas, and the skies were all suffused with a power beholden to laws that were entirely different in both nature and origin to those mankind knew so well.

This was an entire world, complete in and of itself. All but completely separated from the outside world; with the door that the magicians and Renavin had both used the only point of reference between the two realms. And unlike our world, which stands by impassively as mankind does whatever it wills, this place was of a different stock. It had tolerated Renavin's presence up to this point; but not because of anything so benign as a lack of interest. No, it had merely been stockpiling power. Building it up with the rules it was beholden to, and that it held all within it beholden to. And now, that mass of energy was ready to be released. It was ready to expel this foreign invader.

Behind him, this world of crimson blood warped, and space itself contorted, twisting faster and faster. From the perspective of a human, it would have appeared to be a drill made of the same substance that he used to manufacture his weapons, but to act on that assumption would be a fatal mistake. A strength exerted for the sake of repelling an attack formed of something as comparatively mundane as blood would certainly fail the wielder, as something of much sterner stuff would be required to defend against an attack brought to bear with the full power of an entire world.

And at the same time, alarm bells flashed through Renavin's mind, sweat soaked his back, and he felt as if his very soul would leave him. Such was the potency of the malice now directed at him. There could be no mistake; something of such blatant malevolence could not desire anything else but his death. Now, what will he do...?

Renavin looked around him as the atmosphere had changed as soon as he walked in. Blood like substance painted the walls and gave off a foul odor, but nothing he wasn't used to. Except for this gut wrenching feeling that began tearing into his body, as he grew fairly anxious almost immediately. What...is this? For once, he was dumbfounded, as this was something he had not witnessed yet in his career as an attack dog. This room had become the hunter, and Renavin the hunted more or less, as sweat coated his skin shortly after, and the room felt like it was contorting, by it's own given laws, trying to eat away at his life force, his soul.

Renavin knew this was not in his field, and that staying any longer would possibly be the end of him. It's basically him vs something that shouldn't even exist. It was a losing battle no matter how he sit. Renavin slowly took a step back, toward the stairs in which lead to safety. He needed to contact his superiors for aid, or at least find someone whom at least has knowledge on how to deal with this monstrosity. It must not be here, it must be destroyed, yet sadly he didn't have the knowledge or tools to do it. "...I shall make a tactical advance!!...BACKWARDS!!" Renavin doesn't like accepting defeat, so twisting words together so he never directly admits it, he took a swift attempt toward the exit, running up stairs before anything else happened.

Even as the magicians returned to the offense, Jack didn't budge an inch. He simply stood there, silently staring at the young girl. She had already defeated one of the magicians, and now, faced with a direct assault, she had to display the slightest sign of weakness. This wasn't a facade for the purpose of preventing her enemies from realizing her true state of mind, but simply her absolute confidence in her own strength showing itself. That, and that alone, was enough for Jack to prioritize her over the others to the point of ignoring them entirely.

«…That insects never learn their place…»

But even though he'd steeled himself for anything, what actually happened went beyond anything he'd expected. This time, the girl did not simply disrupt the magicians' spell. No, what she did was not nearly so merciful. Instead, she had opted to utterly destroy them with a careless exhibition of power. By the time the light faded, there was nothing left of Those Who Seek or the Truth. Not even so much as a single drop of blood.

«You ask who I am? I am Birdway. The boss of the Dawn Coloured Sunlight. And you are Jack Nightingale, am I correct?»

There was no telling how long he would've stood in there in a daze it the girl, Birdway, hadn't addressed him like she did. The instant her words registered with him, countless synapses fired and dozens upon dozens of thoughts flashed in and out of his brain. This was the leader of the Dawn Coloured Sunlight? A young girl? What was she doing here? What did she want with him? Did she have something to do with Those Who Seek the Truth? What was going on?

Were the circumstances any different, he might have laughed. At the girl who claimed to be the leader of a magic cabal that stood on equal standing with world powers. At the magicians, who had been killed so easily. At himself, for allowing himself to be dragged into this mess. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't muster so much as a single chuckle. Standing before him was an existence that had just proved that it had the power to wipe him from the face of the earth with utter impunity. Normally, bending to his will to another's was something that would go against every moral code he had, but in this case to refrain from doing so could mean his death. It could mean that he would be given the ultimate shackle. So instead of giving a pointless show of resistance, he resolved to listen to her demands for now.

"I am. Is there something you need from me?"

Before, it was clear that he had lost his calm, but there was no longer any trace of that. All signs of tension had left his features, and he now wore a calm, half-sarcastic smile. This was not the same as Birdway's complete self-assurance, but it wasn't simply a mask to hide his unrest, either. He had indeed been shocked before, and even now he could not say in good faith that he had fully recovered his calm, but he had indeed regained both his composure and rationality. For now, he would play along. He would follow the flow of the situation without resistance, and take whatever opportunities to ensure his survival he could find.

---

He'd done it. It'd taken a miracle and a half, but he'd somehow managed to make it out of that hellhole alive. While his inability to fight back may have damaged his pride, the fact he had survived at all was an impressive feat. Many would have hesitated and been skewered, and still more would have stood their ground out of some foolish pride, but Renavin had made the immediate decision to flee in the face of an enemy he could not defeat. Such an action was not cowardice but rather a snap judgement the likes of which could only be seen in the most talented of warriors.

But though he had escaped, his work was not yet done. That was not something that could have been accomplished by the magicians he had slaughtered previously. There was more to this, though he did not yet have enough information to discern whether they were part of an organization or had simply been the pawns of some greater power at this juncture. He was not, wherever, without any hints at where to start.

Frisking the magician's corpses may have turned up nothing of interest, and investigating the inside of the building was an impossibility, but he had gained an important clue from his ordeal with that force. Something that powerful could have come at him from any direction, or every direction, leaving him with nowhere to run to, but it had instead retained a static trajectory the entire time. As if some inescapable force had forced to it point there, it had only ever directed its power in a single direction. Off into the heart of District 15, where high-rise buildings towered in the sky, like great ashes...

Kuro tried to give chase as the man ignored his intimidation and walked back into the crowd. That's when the feeling washed over the area. The array had been completed. Whatever these people were up to had moved to the next stage. Kuro cursed himself for being too laid back and indecisive when intervening. He shouldn't have wasted time with a warning shot.

He tried to follow the man still before he lost him in the crowd, but found that the weirdest phenomenon was at work now. As much as he ran, Kuro seemed to be still swallowed by the crowd, with no indication that he was making progress. Understanding hit him like lightning as he made the connection to the feeling the array had given off and his current predicament. But he wasn't going to give up this easily. Arrays were powerful, but not so hard to disrupt.

Kuro's hands flew in a blur as he grabbed and flung both of his tessen to either side of him. Both objects clattered to the ground, making a sort of odd sight of Kuro standing between them. It had almost looked like a failed juggling attempt. Now Kuro was making a lot of strange stances with his scarf, holding it taught one second and twirling it the next. If the crowd hadn't been affected by the array so much, several people would probably have been puzzled by his behavior. But none could know what was coming.