“Yes. Her name is Yukari Endou.”
“She’s a big shot?”
Kojou’s insolence made Yukina stiffen as she nodded. “To a fair extent, yes.”
Yukina was a girl who’d stood up to a foreign princess and an aristocrat from the Warlord’s Empire without the slightest timidity. For her to show this level of reverence, her mentor was either a serious big shot or a whimsical despot—or perhaps both. Apparently, she was a troublesome opponent any way you sliced it.
But no matter how high and mighty she was, Kojou couldn’t think of her as anything but a cat.
The cat stared down at Yukina’s spear as she spoke quite bluntly.
“I shall accept Snowdrift Wolf, for the time being. Your techniques are crude, but your blade skills are…all right. However, it concerns me that you are over-reliant on Spirit Sight. I have taught you, have I not? A Sword Shaman is a sword yet not a sword, a shaman yet not a shaman—only an amateur sees the future and then gets swept away by it.”
“Yes, Master.”
Yukina listened meekly and gratefully to the cat’s lecture. No doubt it was a deep, serious matter to both, but it was a surreal scene for a third party to gaze upon.
That said, this Yukari Endou person apparently possessed a vast wealth of combat experience. She’d read the tendencies and flaws in her disciple from the scratches on her weapon and had given appropriate advice.
All right, I’ll call the black cat Professor Kitty as proper respect, Kojou silently decided while this was going on.
Having finished its appraisal of Snowdrift Wolf, the black cat looked down at Yukina and curtly declared, “Very well. The spear is in my hands. From this moment forward, you are relieved as Watcher of the Fourth Primogenitor. It is good for you to have fun like a normal brat once in a while.”
However, Yukina continued to silently gaze at her Master. Several times, her lips quivered as if she wanted to say something, finally gathering herself as she said, “…I must object, Master. Even if it is only for a few days, I remain concerned as to what might happen to senpai…er, the Fourth Primogenitor if I take my eyes off him. Could you permit me to continue my duties as Watcher?”
“Oh-ho…”
The cat cackled in amusement and smiled. Ever a serious child, Yukina probably would never have voiced opposition to her Master’s words in the past. The cat continued, “So this boy is the Fourth Primogenitor?”
Who’s a “boy”? thought Kojou, frowning as he replied, “Looks like I am, technically.”
Even if it was Yukina’s mentor, he just couldn’t bring himself to be deferential to a cat.
The cat didn’t seem to especially mind, however. It continued speaking, in a very frank tone. “Sorry to call you over like this. I did want to meet and speak with you once, so that I could grant you some small measure of thanks.”
“Thanks?”
The cat’s mouth grinned widely. “For saving Avrora.”
At that moment, Kojou felt like every drop of blood in his veins was flowing the wrong way. He remembered a small silhouette with the crimson sky behind her. She had hair so scarlet, it seemed enveloped by flames, and incandescent eyes. It felt vaguely like remembering a nightmare—until Kojou felt ferocious pain in his skull.
His breathing was fierce and ragged as he stalked closer to the cat. “You…know about her…?!”
Dizziness assailed Kojou next, and Yukina hurried to prop him up. The cat, gazing with amusement at how the two were pressed together, continued, “I do not know enough that it would make a story to tell. I merely had a slight connection to the matter. All the same, that Sleeping Princess was a tragic child. That is why I thank you for saving her. You need not be impatient, for you too will remember in time… Though I must say, winning over not only Avrora, but straitlaced Yukina, you are quite crafty for someone who looks like such a dimwit. Yes, indeed…”
“H-he has not won me over!” Yukina shrieked.
Kojou spontaneously added his own invective: “You mangy stray…”
He banished the girl’s image from his memory too late. Sweat unpleasantly drenched his entire body, but at least the headache had abated just a little.
“While I do not think you are brave enough to commit wicked deeds in the span of three or four days, I do have regard for my adorable pupil. I shall put a bell on your neck for the time being. If there is an acting watcher present, Yukina will have a bit more peace of mind, yes?”
The cat raised its right paw. The shikigami wearing a maid outfit had stepped down from the platform and approached Kojou and Yukina that very moment.
Kojou’s unease was written all over his face as he asked, “A bell…? Wait, you don’t mean you’re gonna have the Kirasaka look-alike cover for Yukina?”
The cat nodded, as if this were obvious.
“A familiar face is far more convenient, yes? I spent such tender loving care making her, so go ahead and take her out for a stroll. You can feel up her breasts, too. I won’t tell the real Kirasaka.”
“Like hell I will! And what happened to Kirasaka, anyway?! If anyone’s gonna sub in, why not the real thing?!”
“Sayaka is doing her penance. After all, she used Lustrous Scale for her personal use while off-duty, exhausting precious enchanted arrows in the process. Even if it is a slap on the wrist, she will remain at headquarters for a while, writing letters of apology or the like.”
“…Penance?”
I was wondering why I hadn’t seen her for a while. So that’s what happened.
Kojou felt a pang of guilt toward Sayaka. After all, the whole reason she’d used her Lion King Agency weapons was to save him (and others) from an incident he’d gotten her into.
“I understand why your shikigami looks like Kirasaka, then, but what’s with the maid outfit?”
The cat replied rather proudly. “Isn’t it obvious? A humiliation game for subordinates doing their penance. It works wonders, I tell you.”
When Yukina heard the words humiliation game, her shoulders trembled as if she was shivering. Oh, I see, thought Kojou, understanding now. She was so scared of her mentor because the lady had a personality like that.
The cat continued, “If you don’t like the maid outfit, how about some other kind of uniform? I take requests.”
“Um, requests…?”
“Or would you prefer I send a different Sword Shaman from High God Forest? Come to mention it, there are two spry girls who just graduated this year. One has a big bosom and the other small. Which do you prefer, Fourth Primogenitor?”
“…Eh?!”
You’re asking that here and now?! Kojou shuddered. He spared a glance, but Yukina was already glaring at him from the side. He could tell that making the wrong move here would lead to very bad things later on. However, he didn’t know what the proper answer should be.
There was a long, awkward silence as Kojou wiped the sweat from his brow.
What broke the silence was a sound from Kojou’s cell phone.
The name displayed on the lit-up LCD screen was ASAGI AIBA.
3
The alchemist—Kou Amatsuka—stood inside a small, half-ruined convent.
Within the chapel, the air smelled of smoke from a gunfight but only in faint traces. All around Amatsuka were countless cases of ammunition alongside carelessly abandoned submachine guns. The weapons were Island Guard standard-issue. However, there was no sign of the guardsmen that had borne them—only of pitilessly abandoned metallic sculptures bearing their resemblance.
Transmutation: a secret technique of high-end alchemy that allowed Amatsuka to transform living beings into metal with a mere touch. In spite of their powerful anti-spell gear, the members of the Island Guard were no exception.
Amatsuka, on his own, had slaughtered the Island Guard “Guardians” protecting the abbey.
“Hmm.”
Having eliminated the obstacles in his path, Amatsuka toyed with his beloved cane as he gazed at an engraving embedded within one wall of the abbey. It w
as a metal relief, a large work of art some two or three tatami sheets thick.
The shape engraved on it was quite abstract, which made it difficult to understand what was being displayed. But in a sudden moment of clarity, he saw a lone woman take form. She was beautiful, with exotic features, in the bloom of her youth. For a moment, Amatsuka was seized by fondness as he gazed upon the relief.
The tranquility of the moment was broken when echoing footsteps signaled men barging in. Behind him entered three, carelessly trampling inside the building.
Amatsuka gracefully looked behind him, smiling. “Greetings, Senmu. Your arrival is earlier than I expected.”
The bald, middle-aged man nodded. “We are already past the promised hour… How long do you intend to make me wait, Amatsuka?”
The man named Senmu was not even a hundred and seventy centimeters in height, yet his combination of muscle mass and fat made his presence feel overwhelming, even stifling. He had the look of a shrewd, cutthroat businessman.
Amatsuka replied airily, “Ah-ha-ha, sorry about that. But even without the Island Guard riffraff, there was still the ward Kensei Kanase put up. Lifting a spell like that is not something you want to rush.”
Senmu seemed accustomed to Amatsuka’s extremely disrespectful demeanor, satisfying himself with a single, irritated snort. He shifted his eyes toward the relief and broke out in coarse laughter.
“Very well. At any rate, this is the real Wiseman’s Blood, is it?”
How rude. Amatsuka’s face twisted in distaste as he shook his head.
“Do you really think I could mistake the legacy left by my Master?”
Senmu ignored the look as he walked closer to the artwork. “It looks like an ordinary carving, though…”
“That’s because it remains asleep,” the alchemist said, taking up a serious demeanor. “In this state, it is a mere mass of metal. Kensei Kanase chose well. Certainly, this stands out far less than crude attempts to hide it altogether. But…”
He dipped a hand under his coat and brought out a transparent, round, crimson jewel. It was the gemstone he had plundered from Kensei Kanase’s lab.
Amatsuka walked over to the wall and gave the surface a light brush of his fingers. In that instant, the metal underwent a dramatic change.
“See? It has awakened.”
The surface shuddered and rippled as something like a tentacle shot out and wrapped around his hand, trying to pull the gemstone into itself. It looked like an amoeba reviving from a catatonic state—an amoeba made of glistening, lustrous metal that was as scarlet as blood.
Senmu scrutinized the gemstone in Amatsuka’s hand. “I see… So that’s the Hard Core?”
“Yes. It’s the magical catalyst created to control the highly self-propagating, amalgamated, liquid-metal life-form—Wiseman’s Blood.”
Amatsuka pulled the gemstone away from the carving before it was completely submerged. The crimson amoeba thrashed around in dismay several times before reverting to the solid metal relief once more. But it was now crystal clear to all present that this was no mere engraving.
It was highly likely that Kensei Kanase had shaped it into the form of a relief to disguise that it was actually a crimson liquid, a metallic life-form with a will of its own.
Of course, this was no product of the natural world. Only alchemy, the secret art of rearranging the composition of matter, could produce something amorphous, eternal, and immutable, giving birth to a life contrary to all laws of nature—
If someone could transfer his own soul into such a medium, it would constitute the birth of a truly immortal, un-aging human being. It was the scarlet jewel known as the Hard Core that was the control unit able to make such a miracle possible.
“With one’s consciousness transferred to the Hard Core, the one merging with the Spirit Blood retains his or her own will. By replacing flesh and blood with quicksilver, a nigh-eternal ‘life’ is thus obtained. What my Master arrived at was the pinnacle of alchemy.”
Senmu looked like he might begin to drool at any moment as he touched the surface of the relief. In his eyes was a near-bottomless lust for power and vengeance.
“Immortality—and enough magical power to rival a vampiric Primogenitor—comes included. The perfect life-form… With power like that, I’d have the people at headquarters that kicked me off the board and sent me to this backwater kneeling at my feet. I’d have the family that owns it by the throat—”
“That does sound rather amusing. Here you go.”
Amatsuka, speaking as if it didn’t concern him, handed Senmu the Hard Core.
As the man’s eyes filled with suspicion, he discovered the sphere was heavier than it appeared. No doubt he thought the gift odd, all the more so because the Wiseman’s Blood was one of the ideals that all alchemists pursued. To the present day, only the Great Alchemist of Yore, Nina Adelard, had succeeded in its creation—
Surely this Amatsuka was not so generous a person as to hand over the jewel that some called the Pinnacle of Alchemy without a very good reason.
So Senmu asked, “This Hard Core… It’s a memento from your master, yes? You honestly don’t mind giving it to me?”
“Of course not. A man must uphold his promises.”
Yet that was Amatsuka’s reply, spoken with a proud smile. And opening only the collar of his coat, he exposed a portion of his own chest, displaying the bizarre and frightening body beneath.
His right side didn’t look human in any way. It was sickly, partially consumed by the lustrous, shining metal, half-eaten by the Wiseman’s Blood—the same liquid-metal life-form that composed the carving in the wall.
In place of a heart, a strange stone was embedded in the center of his chest. It greatly resembled the Hard Core, but the stone’s color was an impure black. It seemed warped and cracked; apparently, Amatsuka could maintain a human form thanks to that black stone.
“Even if I look like this, I’m still grateful to you. After all, you were the one that saved me when I should have died five years ago, Senmu. Thanks to that, I was able to build the Dummy Core—”
“Hmph. Good attitude, Amatsuka.”
Senmu nodded, satisfied, as he lovingly caressed the crimson jewel.
He was an employee of a machinery manufacturer fairly well-known in Japan, though that was not his true title. An internal company scandal resulted in his being stripped of his position and downsized into a worthless post. And upon meeting Amatsuka, he decided he would use the Wiseman’s Blood for his own revenge.
“Don’t worry,” the man added. “Your loyalty shall be richly rewarded. Soon I will have the entire corporation in my grasp!”
“I expect no less, Senmu. It’s a good call for both of us.”
His concerns spoken, Amatsuka moved away from the wall. With a silent wave of his cane, the two bodyguards with Senmu backed off. Now Senmu was the only one left standing before the relief.
“Hmm… I see now. This gap here?”
Senmu pushed the Hard Core into a crack roughly in the center of the relief. The change that resulted was instantaneous and dramatic: The copper-colored relief transformed into a crimson liquid that spilled down the wall. Vast amounts poured into the cramped chapel, making it look like the altar was being drenched in blood.
Then, the quicksilver covering different surfaces transformed into a huge, crimson drop of water that wriggled like it was alive. It rushed to Senmu, possessor of the Hard Core, and began swirling its way up from his feet to cover more and more of his body.
Surrounded by the ghoulish Wiseman’s Blood, Senmu laughed in delight.
“Oh, look at it move. Behold, this glossy blood! It’s like the finest wine, is it not, Amatsuka!”
Even then, the crimson fluid continued to engulf his body, already consuming his entire chest.
But his bodyguards looked terrified.
“Senmu!”
“It’s dangerous, please move back!”
However, the man glared at them and spat
, vividly irritated, “What are you talking about? This is the main event!”
“Senmu!”
“Fwa-ha-ha… I feel it… I understand. So this is my body melting away—!”
He was abandoning his inferior human flesh to gain an immortal body of metal. The gargantuan magical energy flowing into him gave him an overwhelming sense of delight and omnipotence.
But his assimilation by the Wiseman’s Blood stopped midway, in a manner he had never expected. One part of the liquid metal rose up, and a new human silhouette formed within the fluid.
“Nn?!”
The crimson liquid was taking the shape of a young woman. She appeared to be eighteen or nineteen years old, and her face largely resembled a statue of a foreign beauty.
The corners of Amatsuka’s lips curled up in delight. “My, oh my…”
It was clear from his face he had been waiting for her to appear.
Senmu laughed sharply. “Oh, so this is the Great Alchemist, Nina Adelard!” he shouted.
There was no sign that he was perturbed by the sudden emergence of this obstacle.
The Wiseman’s Blood and the Hard Core were both creations of the Great Alchemist of Yore, Nina Adelard. It was natural to expect that the awakening of the Wiseman’s Blood would be accompanied by the awakening of its proper mistress.
Amatsuka gave the bodyguards a cool gaze as he explained, “Her consciousness, preserved by the Hard Core, has been awakened. If this continues, Nina Adelard will regain her body and revive in full. In other words, no one can obtain the Wiseman’s Blood until she is eliminated.”
The beautiful woman born within the metal had already taken a nearly perfect human form. Glossy black hair flowed down her back as crimson droplets scattered, revealing her rich, brown flesh.
For his part, Senmu’s expression changed to anguish.
“Gaah…?!”
The man’s body, having once nearly taken control of Wiseman’s Blood, was losing its physical integrity and breaking down. Now that its proper owner, Nina Adelard, had appeared, it had begun purging itself of the foreign object. Already losing his physical coherence, Senmu desperately pleaded for aid.
Strike the Blood, Vol. 6 (light novel): Return of the Alchemist Page 7
