Rationality.
If Camilla had one word to define Isaac, she would've chosen the word "rationality."
It was thanks to his rationality that he achieved ranking second within the entire grade. It was thanks to his rationality that he pulled off a win against that Silas Fulgur, that he survived in the higher class up until now.
She herself knew by how much she changed over the last three years. However, she was, at the same time, still the same person. The timid self she presented in the past was her suppressed self, forced to submit and obey due to her failing to prove her worthiness. The moment House Hedron found a worth in her, she no longer had to act. She was free to act, and she acted in accordance with who she truly was—headstrong and competitive.
She was impulsive. She wished a reward for her years of suffering, and it was to reach the top of the pyramid.
Promise me that you wouldn't change? Hah! She had no time for child's play. Her past self simply needed Isaac Valerius, and he was a fine tool. After, when she no longer had a need for him, she discarded him, and he took it with a foolish expression—before accepting his fate because again, he was rational. He understood his circumstances, that the gap between their standings was now that of heaven and earth.
Two years after, in the Golden Repose, they met again. Camilla felt that she found another use for him, that he would obey because he was rational. Surely, it would be an honor to build a connection with someone of her standing?
No, he didn't obey. Instead, he bickered. He fought back as if he was equal to her. They bantered, and she lost to his logic, although she wouldn't admit it. Every time they conversed, she met a hard wall. She was frustrated. Why wouldn't he submit? Being Nameless was one of the worst treatments—if not the worst—that a person could receive within the Aetherion Kingdom.
You're Nameless!
She reminded him over and over again every time that they spoke. Don't you dare think you're someone of value. Don't try to overstep your boundaries. Help me in my endeavour and stick with me.
He didn't listen. He didn't listen to her once. She couldn't understand him. She wondered if she was wrong about him. Is Isaac truly a rational person? She once thought.
Today, within this arid Heliosphere, full of lethal wolves, hot sand, and dust, as Isaac stood in front of her, panting and clearly exhausted, she finally understood.
No, he wasn't a rational person. He was never a rational person, in fact.
Just like her, he was hiding his true self.
Camilla's weak breath quivered as tears dropped from her eyes.
"You may have heard of me, miss."
In front of Isaac stood two enemies—the hitmen. One without an eye—someone unrecognizable—was supposedly in charge of Isaac.
In contrast, the other one—whom Camilla was ambushed by—was quite famous.
"Jade the Arsonist."
She could still feel it. Moments ago, when the Arsonist had smiled at her, and the oil had come.
An unbelievable amount of it, splashing across the sand, across her. She couldn't react. By the time she understood what it was, the spark had already chased the trail to her, and her body went up in flame.
Her head went blank. Instinct took over—she severed the burning cloth, and she ran. But the environment was arid, and the fire only fed on her, scorching deeper. She ran, swinging [Mystical Swords] at nothing, at everything. Not one strike landed. She was prey, and he was patient. He walked where she ran, in no hurry at all, laughing that low sadistic laugh as he watched the fire he'd made do its work.
Then, she collapsed. Her body would not answer her. He stopped a step away and crouched, and whispered, "Aren't you curious? Why someone would pay me—a criminal with gold on his head—to kill you?" A chuckle. "Heh, never mind—what a dumb question I came up with. Of course it's because your death is worth something to the one who hired me. Let me tell you who that was instead."
Nicholas Hedron.
Her father. The man who had smiled at her for the first time the day her Mana Solidification Syndrome was revealed. Who had called her his pride.
"LIES!" The word tore out of her with a mouthful of blood.
And then she remembered.
"Off to an assignment, I hear, Camilla." He had found her before the departure. "My precious daughter—let me embrace you. It will be a long time before I see you again."
"A month at most, Father."
He had held her. He had never done that before, not once, and she had let herself believe it meant she had finally become someone the Patriarch of House Hedron could love.
"You've realized, haven't you, missy." The Arsonist's voice, close. "That I'm telling the truth. Of course I am. What's the point of lying to the dead?"
The Arsonist had been a step away from killing her, his sadistic expression looming over her helpless self. Then, at the next second, Isaac was there, in front of her.
Weak and beaten, it was as if she reverted to her past self that she desperately tried to erase. Just like back then, she was relying on Isaac.
And here they were now. There was no logic in all of this. Camilla knew this. Yet, there he still stood, protectively.
She couldn't tell—whether the reason why her eyes were blurry was because of the shocking betrayal or Isaac—maybe both, she weakly thought.
The Arsonist. Unaware of Camilla's thoughts, Isaac grimaced. After all, he knew this man, and in fact, the majority of the kingdom likely did.
Seven years ago, there was a horrifying incident in the southeastern village, later named the Red Night. Said incident involved the entirety of the village being set ablaze during the night, and it resulted in a mass casualty at the same scale of a war.
It wasn't long until the culprit was revealed: Jade, later named the Arsonist. Skill: An A-rank skill, [Black Torrent]. Dispensation of the huge volume of crude oil from his body. Very similar to A-rank: [Riptide], the water-dispensing skill that is essentially the downgrade of Caspian's S-rank: [Great Deluge].
Isaac read in the eyes of the man, that the man knew that he knew. And he was enjoying it.
Sadistic and unhinged. This man felt just as inhuman as the other one who lost an eye.
"A flare, Raven. Look at what you did." Then, a snort. Unlike Isaac, the Arsonist didn't seem to be in a hurry—even though they were surrounded by the enraged wolves. Instead, the Arsonist fixated his gaze on the ruptured eye of the other hitman and cackled. "How pitiful. You lost to F-rank: [Condensation]."
Said hitman, seemingly 'Raven' in name, smirked, completely unbothered by the mockery from his ally. "Call me Silas Fulgur from now on."
"Nice try, smartass, but can't do. You're Moro Raven. The psychopath and the mistake of House Raven."
"Psychopath? Look who's talking."
Moro Raven. Raven was the surname. Surname meant that this hitman was—or is—a noble. Raven, meaning House Raven—the higher nobles. Immediately, Isaac's thought wandered over one particular name: Marlene Raven, the peer who seemed to be close to Cassiopeia. What is their relationship? The thought briefly entered his mind, but he immediately dismissed it. Now wasn't the time for that.
After all, now was the chance. [The Prism] told him that while the hitman named Moro Raven seemed to be tense as if prepared to react against him, the Arsonist, on the other hand, had his guard down.
Time is against you, Isaac. Do not hesitate.
His mind went still. The adrenaline rushed into him, and the slight fear that lingered in him left as he chose fight over flight. His eyes locked. All thoughts ceased at that moment.
He didn't raise a finger. Such an action would alert the enemies.
The world slowed down. This was the fourth time of the day, meaning that he now had three stocks left. At the tip of his finger that was hung loosely, pointing at the sand below, a waterdrop condensed.
Then, the mana within his Circuitry condensed into a thin, extremely dense thread. It began to revolve at the phenomenal acceleration. Massive output was burned to drive the pressure and temperature to their extremes. Repeat. Drop by drop, the supercritical fluid manifested. Over twenty iterations. They condensed into one extremely dense bullet.
Unfortunately, he could only generate one supercritical bullet within one window. The focus it required was too heavy to produce multiple. This meant that he had to choose whether to target Moro Raven or the Arsonist.
It wasn't a hard decision to make.
The Arsonist was clearly the greater threat, especially when Moro Raven's skills weren't built for a head-on combat.
Time resumed. The blood trickled down from Isaac's nose. The supercritical bullet fired and struck the Arsonist—not by the heart that Isaac aimed because Moro Raven, with an unbelievable reflex, grabbed the man by an arm and pulled him over, but by the left shoulder.
"What—ugh!" Clearly, the Arsonist was alarmed. His eyes widened. After a brief pause, he gritted his teeth as he instinctively clasped his hand over his shoulder wound.
It wasn't just him who was surprised.
This man… Isaac narrowed his eyes at Moro Raven, who managed to react. He predicted my move. Then pulled the Arsonist out of the way in an instant.
"Surprised?" Moro Raven smiled. At the same time, he reached for his ruptured eye that was covered by the blood clot, and began to scratch it as if it was itchy. Blood splattered from the wound, and he then released his hand, as if he didn't know his hand was on the wound. At this point, Isaac deduced that the man must have a congenital insensitivity to pain, or that he had an analgesic fourth skill—no, he thought, I don't sense any mana activity in his body. No skill was under operation.
"Gah! My shoulder, you piece of shit!" The Arsonist growled. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were dilated to an extent that felt abnormal. Isaac read the mix of rage and pain within the man, and it appeared that he, unlike Moro Raven, was quite sensitive to pain, especially when compared to other criminals or hitmen. It was likely because given the potency of his skill, he had almost never received any harm.
Then, suddenly, the Arsonist dispensed oil from his left palm, straight at Isaac and Camilla. At the same time, his right hand, which was now bloody thanks to the blood from his shoulder wound, revealed a simple ring on the index finger. Isaac witnessed a spark. It was an attack.
The spark developed into a huge torrent of flame as it travelled with the oil as the medium. In an instant, what was the burst of oil became the ferocious burst of flame.
Isaac's body instinctively flinched, about to dash to the side to evade it. Then, he froze as he remembered Camilla's presence on his back. This brief freeze was enough to deny the option of evading—it was too late for that.
"I…ssac…" Camilla, seeing the flame of doom, spoke up to the best of her ability, "dod…ge…" For some reason, the thought of seeing the man whom she viewed as a tool as a burned corpse ached her heart.
Isaac ignored her words, because again, it was too late for that. His heartbeat quickened. Now, it was either he somehow managed to deal with the torrent of flame just in front of him or had both him and Camilla be burned to death.
[Condensation].
He recalled that through the application of [Condensation], he was able to use sand as the medium instead of the usual water just before. This meant that, theoretically, air should be possible as well.
Flame cannot be stopped. He cannot dampen its magnitude. Then, what he could perhaps do was to change its direction. If they cannot dodge, make the flame dodge them instead.
Can I do it? A thought popped up in his mind as the world slowed down around him—the fifth cognition acceleration of the day. [The Prism] told him, yes.
The mana thread flared. He sweated profusely as he began to condense the very air itself atop his right palm, as much as possible. It was very unstable. Time was ticking. The air was slipping out of his skill's grasp.
Focus. Gather. Condense. His body was full of heat. His eyes felt like burning as he had been staring at the bright flame for almost thirty seconds by now.
Seal. Consistent pressure application from all angles—it required an extreme degree of precision that surpassed even that of supercritical fluid. The degree of precision has already exceeded the scope of a human, yet Isaac was somehow achieving it. [The Prism], albeit invisible, was there.
Time was then due. The world resumed. The blood trickled down from his nose. The condensed air was released, in one direction. The air travelled from high to low pressure, seeking to relieve the tension. What was blasted from his palm as the aftermath wasn't water, but the wind.
The wind collided with the flame. They didn't fight. The wind grazed past the flame, and the flame began to twist. They swirled. They became the tornado of fire that danced in the midair, having lost the direction. Then, the fire fell on the ground, still burning atop the sand thanks to the oil residues. What was left was a huge release of smoke that blocked Isaac's sight on two hitmen.
"Wind…" It was Camilla who first reacted to this, still maintaining consciousness even though she was under severe pain. He had to admit that she had a strong will.
"What just… happened?" The muffled voice of the Arsonist reached Isaac's ears through the smoke, although Camilla didn't seem to hear. Judging by the tone, the Arsonist was clearly shaken. "Wind! That was clearly the wind! What in the Remian Aetherion's balls is going on, Raven?!"
"Looks like he's Zephyr. Oh, the development! I'm Silas Fulgur, and he's Aldric Zephyr!"
"Shut up!"
Isaac, in an attempt to leverage this gap of time as the smoke filled the scene, raised his finger. He could approximate their locations based on the direction by which the voice came from. He would generate the supercritical fluid, without accelerating his cognition, and fire it at the Arsonist once more.
However, he then clicked his tongue as he caught sight of poison darts through the smoke. Moro Raven, he seemed to know what action he would take. He knows that I am too exhausted to run through the pack of wolves that are surrounding us, that I cannot possibly carry Camilla and run. Therefore, Moro Raven shot the dart at their last seen location, confident that they wouldn't have moved.
Isaac quickly generated numerous, dense waterdrops to neutralize the lethal darts. They fell to the ground, and Camilla's eyes shook as she found one falling just a meter away from her.
Then, "let's see if you can do it the second time!" The Arsonist shouted through the smoke. Isaac knew what was about to come up.
Now, the extent of focus required to generate the wind of the same magnitude as before to neutralize the flame was only achievable when sufficient time was given. In this circumstance, such time could only be given in the window provided by the cognition acceleration. Isaac only had two stocks left for the day.
However, Isaac did expect the burst of flame this time around, the moment he blocked Moro Raven's darts. What Moro Raven did, by shooting the darts, was to indicate Isaac and Camilla's locations to the Arsonist. Therefore, Isaac, as the shout of the Arsonist was heard, held Camilla and dragged her away from the site as quickly as he could—with his hand clasped over her mouth as she let out an agony-filled scream. It was pitiful and desperate, but it was successful, with them having managed to move out of the way just before the flame burned through the air which they were occupying just a second ago.
From the pain, Camilla bit into his palm. Isaac gritted his teeth, his chest heaving rapidly as his breathing was quicker than it ever had been.
"Huff… huff…" He fell to a knee. Sweats sprinkled down to the sand, sizzled, and evaporated. Sand, flame, and smoke—he would have believed if someone told him that he was in a literal hell.
However, there was no time to rest, because he knew that the enemies won't rest. The smoke was clearing, and Isaac sensed the silhouette of two men.
He released his hand from Camilla, whose muffled scream ceased. His palm was bleeding, but it didn't matter. He inspected her, and realized that she lost her consciousness. Grimaced.
All skills are revealed at this point. They won't gamble. They will play the advantage that they currently hold—stamina. They will wage a war of attrition, because they know they will outlive me. Leaving Camilla within the shade, he stood. His mana spiked, prepared to manifest [Condensation] any time to counter another attack that will arrive at any time. I will have to think of a way to defeat them before that.
The smoke fully cleared. Moro Raven was staring at him, amused. The Arsonist, whose body was sweating profusely and pale from the wound on his shoulder, glared at him murderously.
Moro Raven won't attack. He utilized great amount of poison darts, his primary weapon. The Arsonist's skill is what I will primarily be dealing with. Just as Isaac thought, the Arsonist raised his hand once again, palm facing them.
Then, the howling changed. All three men within the site paused.
Isaac heard it through the ringing exhaustion in his own skull—the pitch of it shifting from the scattered, hungry calls of a pack circling prey to something tighter, more deliberate. His hair stood up as he felt another presence, big, entering the scene.
Up until now, the wolves were not closing in. They were clearly enraged as Dodyon warned, but didn't act on that rage. Instead, they gathered, circled, and howled. It seemed… that they weren't waiting for an opening.
They were calling.
Even now, Camilla's faint but existent breathing reached his ears.
There was a deep growl as a shadow, huge, loomed over. Then, a creature entered. Red-furred, as gigantic as that of an elephant, yet wolf-like in feature. Its eyes were just as crimson, and as it growled, it revealed its fiery teeth that had a faint, metallic odor—blood.
Red Wolf. The very target of their mission has entered the site, as the hunter rather than the hunted.
It was clearly full of wrath.