Chapter 580 – Updraft (1)
Test Subject Number 89, Adrian Chambers.
The first successful prototype of the brainwashing experiment through Coercion.
Alongside various magical attempts, the experiment that gradually destroyed the mind by exploiting the relationship between master and disciple proved extremely effective.
The series of experimental processes provided a very important clue in determining how to neutralize the unyielding mental barriers of sentient beings, barriers that cannot be measured by sight alone.
In other words, it was the starting point of the national brainwashing program, and so it remained vivid in memory.
That is why this is quite perplexing.
After years upon years of human experimentation, brainwashing had finally succeeded, but as a side effect, his body and mind had been utterly ruined, so he was sent to the Midros Autonomous Territory for disposal...
Since Tower Master Bohemirn had been involved, and Rayshen Tailroad had personally verified it, Number 89 should have been dead without question.
And yet, he was alive, perfectly intact?
Moreover, he looked nothing like the ragged wreck he had last been seen as. His bodily damage completely restored, his body once again healthy.
'It is impossible to free oneself from brainwashing by sheer will. But with Black Hour together...'
That would mean the Black Hour interfered and, by some means, broke through the Coercion... but such a simple cause-and-effect felt terribly unsatisfactory.
For what reason did the Black Hour take interest in the disappearance of Adrian Chambers?
How did they know Adrian had been sent to the Midros Autonomous Territory, and how did they avoid the information network of the Bohemirn magic tower?
Why did they go all the way to the Eastern Continent to secure Adrian Chambers?
Because of this, there were far too many unanswerable questions.
'…If so.'
An objective analysis.
Pielle established the most probable hypothesis as the foundation of her logic. In that way, she forced herself to understand the incomprehensible present.
"Number 89's survival, and the recent raid by the Black Hour. This situation, it's not being led by Dahit Wethroel."
The conclusion was the intervention of a third party.
"Who is it? Who is the one aiming a blade at the Bohemirn magic tower from behind the curtain?"
"That's not what matters, is it?"
Adrian's gaze remained fixed upon Pielle.
"Do you still not grasp the situation?"
His voice, struggling to suppress excitement, carried a thick killing intent. This was the first time he directly carried out revenge himself.
Pielle spoke calmly.
"If you don't want to answer, you don't have to. I can find out later anyway. Still, how amusing. To see one of the former Central Continent's Four Strong dare to threaten the Bohemirn magic tower. Is it because you're relying on the Black Hour? Or... do you perhaps miss the memories of the laboratory?"
She lightly scratched at his emotions, but Adrian did not react.
Instead, his eyes shifted to the experimental table behind her... to the corpse being dissected, its skin and muscle flayed open.
"Recently I encountered a transcendent existence, one who had received my master's transplanted body. Sandir Paen. Was that your creation?"
"Sandir Paen."
Pielle gave a small, mirthless laugh.
"Ha, it doesn't even surprise me anymore. So it was you in Daunt as well. I don't know who's backing you, but even Gluttony is involved? That's no ordinary person, is it?"
"What did you do with my master's corpse?"
"I dislike how you ignore other people's questions to say only what you want... but fine. I'll give you that answer specially."
Her narrowed gaze gleamed with her peculiar insight and slyness. She glanced at the corpse she had been using for transplantation research.
"Gluttony, through consumption, seeks the evolution of humanity. Barbaric and instinctive, but for that very reason, a most primal concept. Philosophically, it is actually novel."
Just as humans must adapt to their environment, so too must they adapt to transplanted bodies.
Simply attaching another human's organs or body parts, just because they belong to the same race, will often result in death or necrosis due to rejection.
Transplantation was, at least theoretically, only possible when the donor shared compatible physical traits, such as blood type.
And even then, countless failures occurred.
Yet.
"Gluttony possesses a unique technique where no rejection occurs, no matter what body is transplanted. Not only humans, but demi-races and aberrant races can be transplanted as well. Completely alien qualities from wholly different categories can be adapted into a human body. By using consumption, the very thing they ideologically pursue. Do you understand?"
The transplantee could wield the magic or techniques of the one used as material.
By eating them.
Because they had adapted.
At some point, Pielle had detached all of her experimental devices.
Her face, aside from the wrinkles around her eyes, still belonged to a younger age. In today's world, methods to delay outward aging were few, but they existed.
She gently gripped the staff strapped to her back.
Moist wind began to stir.
"Raymon of Perfection. The body, aside from the left arm needed for transplantation, was devoured until not a single bone remained, becoming Sandir Paen's flesh and blood. Not common at all, is it? To be of use both in life and in death."
The magic power of a state-level force pulsed.
"They say disciples resemble their masters, don't they? Number 89, you will become the same."
Pielle was an Elder of Itium, the second most authoritative position within "Dynamics of Intelligence", one of the Bohemirn magic tower's main divisions.
The Dynamics of Intelligence was a mage corps specialized in mastering magic circles, supporting and researching, and was the true driving force behind the tower's development.
The mages with her in this unofficial laboratory were also classified as high-ranking members within the Dynamics of Intelligence.
Strong figures proficient in diverse fields beyond elemental magic.
The Central Continent's Four Strong?
Their skill and fame were not to be denied, but when compared across the entire continent, it was hardly worth much.
'Especially a foolish swordsman blinded by revenge, wasting time asking where his dead master's corpse is, giving mages time to prepare, and losing judgment.'
That was the world Pielle had lived in, and continued to live in.
Preparation for suppression was complete.
Neutralize Number 89 in the shortest possible time, completely seal the entrance, then wait for support from the Bohemirn magic tower, counterattack, and once more brainwash Number 89 to extract information—a simple plan.
Above the unofficial laboratory, disturbances were spreading... most likely the main force of the Black Hour drawing ever closer.
Having calculated their arrival, Pielle was just about to act.
When suddenly, Adrian's shoulders began to shake. From deep within his chest, laughter spilled out.
It was grief, and it was rage. Yet it was also exultation.
"My Lord must have felt this way as well."
Adrian drew in his greatsword and tilted it obliquely.
"Resist with everything you have. So I can cut you down once more."
A swordsman whose body and mind had been ruined beyond repair by years of being used as a harsh experimental subject.
No matter how much a shattered mind was restored, no matter how cleanly the wounds of the body were healed, how much could he have truly changed compared to before?
It had been little more than a year since Number 89's whereabouts had become unknown.
Far too short a time to undergo any meaningful transformation.
Thus, because Pielle drew her predictions rationally, she overlooked, and could not know.
During that blank period, whom the Heavenly Sword, Adrian Chambers, had come to serve, and what growth he had achieved through it.
A chill ran down her spine.
The violet aura swirling around his sword flickered like flames. A killing intent sharper than anything ever felt before shredded her senses.
Pielle's expression stiffened.
"...Huh?"
An unexpected pressure forced the question out of her without thought. Her direct subordinate mages reacted in much the same way.
That alone served as the signal.
───!
Adrian roared fiercely and charged like a beast.
***
Above their heads, mages sent from the magic tower alliance quickly passed by.
Verden, who had effortlessly deceived the scouts' perception abilities, leaned against a tree in the shadows, receiving situational reports through the great hall.
"With this, the plan has been thwarted."
───[Smooth. Confirmed.]
From beyond the communication device, Alpha voiced agreement with Verden's thoughts.
The Principality of Riviant.
The Kingdom of Maren.
The Free State of Formene.
The Cooperative Union of Barimtiel.
The Kingdom of Itel.
The Bohemirn magic tower's scheme targeting five small nations had come to nothing. Elder Lauen Seedger in the principality was the only notable exception.
'Well, considering all they did was remotely control brainwashed test subjects from the rear, there was no reason to dispatch overwhelming forces to entire nations.'
The five test subjects had not needed to be recovered immediately, so they were withdrawn and sent to prearranged hiding places within each nation.
Their disposal was for later.
At present, with Balrog absent, the Bohemirn magic tower maintained a response that was closer to passive observation. Like goblins cowering deep in a cave.
'Therefore, it's necessary to drag out the targets hiding within the tower.'
The destruction of the unofficial laboratory under Adrian's command was part of that preparation.
Balrog Bessias.
His return to the tower would mark the beginning of the next plan.
Verden exercised patience, focusing on irregularly drawing the tower's attention on the allied front, especially the Bohemirn magic tower.
Waiting was second nature to him.
***
The inner fire within him had long gone cold, so the deep crater of the dormant volcano, inactive for ages, was overgrown with grass.
A lake formed from rainwater filling the massive pit lay still. Only the clouds reflected in its clear surface stirred with motion.
Standing atop a small piece of land that seemed to float at the center of the lake, Balrog Bessias gazed up at the blue sky.
He spoke to himself.
"The vilest man I have ever known was a man who, with middling talent and middling strength, devoted his entire life to reaching for the untouchable sky. A pitiful wretch, who gathered talents from across the continent far beyond his own capacity, in order to ascend."
The man Balrog spoke of was none other than the former Tower Master of Bohemirn... his own master.
"But despite all his years of tenacious effort, he could never take a complete talent as his disciple. For back then, the prestige of the Bohemirn magic tower was paltry compared to now."
At that time, the comprehensive and military ranking of the Bohemirn magic tower had not escaped the lower-middle tier, and was even in decline.
It was purely because the former Tower Master lacked ability, yet still clung to his position out of stubbornness, refusing to yield.
Above all, there had been no suitable successor to replace him.
In any case.
Because the Bohemirn magic tower's standing was unstable, it was impossible to obtain the exceedingly rare, fully-completed transcendent prodigies that appeared only once in an age.
Falling behind in the magical competition, he was allowed only to gather those overlooked by others, those who need not have been so desperately pursued, those with great potential but equally great flaws.
Among them, Balrog was the third case.
Though his limit was judged to reach the 7th tier, his flaw outweighed his talent—a congenital magical impairment, a flawed mage.
His past was not merely distant from "omnitalented", it was its very opposite.
"Yet, despite the folly of the former Tower Master, his hollow dream was realized. For I exist as proof."
He had liberated a lofty echelon.
All beings aware of his unique presence bowed to him.
"And through you, I will once more walk the path of proof."
Behind Balrog, a young man knelt, staring blankly at the ground.
His eyes had lost all reason.
A prisoner of Kernadel.
The test subject Sandir Paen had taken from the underground prison had been shaven bald, with his entire body etched in dense magic circles.
At last, the moment had come to enact a new supreme spell.