gurei | Lord El-Melloi II Case Files: Volume 1 (WIP)

Translation from here.

"Yᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀsᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏғ Mᴀɢᴜs."

Prologue

"Your master is truly the worst kind of Magus."

In a manner that was excessively spiteful and agitated, Luviagelita Edelfelt spat out those words.

Thinking it was a rather obvious assessment, it didn't occur to me to argue. Even if it had, I probably wouldn't have been able to say anything to refute the claim. That level of hostility filled the girl's voice, and prana far beyond hostility coursed through her arm. It flowed as if tracing a kind of pattern, and even now was howling with fangs bared.

Ah, of course, even I understood. It was a pattern called a Magic Crest. Bestowed upon a Magus, it was like an artificial organ, or so I had been taught. Passed down in old Magus Lineages like hers, in a sense it was the greatest heirloom, and the greatest curse. A fixated Mystery, passed down like a secret art.

On top of that, it was a form of magic that she was particularly skilled in, a spell known as the Gandr shot. Originally it was a weak curse that shot from the finger and caused only mild illness. In this case, where she was activating it through her Magic Crest, it could stop the heart, causing instant death, a technique known as a [Finn Shot]. With just a leisurely movement of her hand, someone like me with no resistance to magecraft would undoubtedly be easily annihilated.

Even so, strangely, I felt no fear.

"Your master is truly the worst kind of person."

Once more, as if to emphasize her point, the girl called out. I couldn't agree more. I would simply raise my hands in complete and utter agreement if I could. But, if I did so in a place like this, this beautiful girl would not approve. Instead, even if it was just quietly fanning the flames, I would use even this short meeting to try and make her understand.

"...I won't deny it."

Deciding to avoid the issue with ambiguity...

"Then why do you quietly follow someone like him?"

...I was immediately pressed for an answer.

It seemed if I gave another careless response, then the Gandr would come flying. With her magical ability, it would easily penetrate something even as solid as a brick.

"My master..."

As I spoke, a certain memory floated up in the back of my mind. I didn't know if it would qualify as an answer, but I started giving voice to it as it was anyway.

"...Once, my master got in a fight with a cat."

"A cat? Is this supposed to be a good story?"

"Perhaps. Taking up residence near a walking path, it was a stray cat that, by its bad behaviour, came to be hated by passers-by. At one point it attacked and bit my master's favourite boots, which bothered him to the point that he began to investigate a way to get revenge using magecraft. One day, that stray cat was hit by a vehicle of some sort."

It was probably hit some time in the middle of the night, and was discovered the next morning.

"It's face had been half smashed, and one of each of its fore- and hind-legs were torn to pieces. It was already unpleasant enough to look at before, but now it looked like nothing but a blood-stained lump of meat.

"Though those who walked by wouldn't come close to it, when my master arrived, he repeatedly started saying things like 'don't get run over here, you idiot.' Berating the cat that thought to cause problems for people even as it died, the people around who saw him only frowned and scowled."

"What's his problem?"

The girl's presence began to be mixed with anger.
For someone like me, who hadn't yet become used to living in London, I hadn't been sure how normal the response of those passers-by was. I knew my master was a bad person, but I had no idea as to what degree of bad he was.

"Nevertheless, my master then took the cat up, and held it in his arms thereafter."

"............"

"Feeding it some painkilling herbs, he took it back to his study, and spent close to half a day just holding it. Normally, he was very sensitive to even just getting his clothes dirty. At that time alone, with a mood similar to as if he had just spilled his soup, he held the cat until it breathed its last, and didn't leave its side until it was properly buried. Foregoing even his customary cigar, while covered in dirt and mud, he watched over its grave with a bored expression."

"...As expected, it wasn't a good story at all."

Pursing her cute lips, I heard her gentle whisper, but let it pass. Really, I didn't consider it a good story either. As someone who had been associated with death for an extended time, I found my master's behaviour to be far too sentimental. Walking on top of the earth or sleeping under it, there wasn't all that much of a difference anyways.

If there was, it was just that there were those who were supposed to be sleeping that were instead walking around.

Yes.

'I don't understand,' I said to my master.

"And my master replied, 'You don't need to understand.'"

"'You don't need to understand?'"

"Yes."

A small nod.

"Accordingly - 'such is just a trap of the mind. If you wish to follow the path of magecraft, you don't have time to get caught up in these kinds of things.' If you ask any student, you will probably get the same answer. For starters, if I had been a skilled Magus, healing those kinds of injuries should have been possible. For not getting there in time, the one who didn't have the necessary power was me, after all."

There was something wrong with that, as if it was giving up.
Of course there was something wrong with that, just accepting things the way they were.

How someone like my master became so sidetracked, even I didn't know. Somewhere in the space between a discerning heart and blind acceptance, something had become core to him. That much was clear, but what that something was, I could never figure out.

As a Magus, that could indeed be something terrible.
As someone beyond human, that could indeed be something logically unacceptable.

"Generally speaking, the feeling of satisfaction gained from saving something is simply a misrecognition of the heart. Even if you help someone, it's not like that helps you. And if it saves yourself, you can't know whether you really helped that person. Misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, false understandings. This laughable repetition is what makes up the world we live in."

That's just a misunderstanding, my master had stated at the time. It was no more than self satisfaction - a defect of the human body.

"But even so, we live in that world of misunderstanding."

The eyebrows of the girl standing before me twitched.
In her light violet eyes, my own figure was being reflected.
My own eyes likely reflected her figure as well.

Yet, it was most definitely a different reflection than as one would see in the mirror. Because our hearts were not completely identical, even if the information received was the same, the understanding it produced would be different. Even if we saw the same thing, saw the same colour, had the same conversation, I couldn't say we would feel the same way.

Things in this world were all like that.

It wasn't limited to magecraft. It wasn't limited to those beyond humansmonsters. In a world of common sensethe obvious, it was something everyone understood.

If you said that misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, and false understandings are what connected them, then...

"We are misrecognition. Our world itself is misunderstanding. We can experience a multitude of truths, not just one single reality. No matter how wise you are, or how much time you are given, you will never reach something like a single truth. Magi may just be those who continually reject that fact."

Speaking as if in self-deprecation, my master had pursed his lips at that.

He had finally realized that his words and the objective that all Magi pursued, known as the "Spiral of Origin," were in contradiction.

At the same time...after having parroted my master's words to this extent, I finally understood my reason for recalling those words.

"If you forget that, and recklessly purse a lone truth - My Lady, it would do you well to remember that that itself may truly be what makes the worst kind of person."

Whether his words were correct or not, I still did not know. To make that judgment, I was too close to my master, and the ordinary was too far separate from a Magus.

But, that was surely also true of that castle.

Misrecognition and misunderstanding.
Disagreement and false understanding.

Such a laughable repetition is what tied them to that castle.

Since long, long ago, to make what ought to be into a reality, they combined themselves into a single form. Like asking if nonexistent clothes suited them, with an existence like nonsensical fables, they compelled all people.

-So.

At least, let us tell this story.

For example, in a manner similar to the case files of a certain detective that lived on London's Baker Street.

I am not my master, nor am I a novelist, so it likely would not go all that well.

Even so, that was the only way I could resist the events unfolding within that castle.

Chapter 1

Part 1

On an early Autumn morning, my master called for me.

It was the first time he had called for me since I came to London two months ago, so I was a little surprised. Informing the dorm supervisor Krishna, I left the dormitory behind. I expected him, who was obsessed with helping people, to come along, but in the end he declined with an apology.

Leaving the grounds, I was suddenly beset by dizziness.

Crowds of people, walking on the pavement outside.
Or maybe it was the greasy smell of fish and chips, or even the exhaust of the famous double-decker busses.
Gentlemen, walking by garbed in trench coats,
Women, wrapped up in scarves and shawls,
Children, noisily chatting as they got on the bus...
There was just too many people.

The population of London was about eight million, but I already had problems understanding what it meant to have more than a hundred. Trying to comprehend that unimaginable number of people just depressed me. If I had to make the comparison, I'd say it reminded me of a cemetary.

Rows and rows of the dead, collected since the distant past...in some small way,I made this heavy comparison.
(...No.)
I rethink.
This city itself is like a cemetary, isn't it?

It's not that it made me think of death. But with the great crowds of people, all gathering in and spending the majority of their time in the brown and grey coloured buildings, it was like they were all heading to their final destination. With what I learned from theology about Hell and Purgatory, it somehow reminded me of the Hades of myth.

-Ah, of course.
This is what they called the sentiment of a "country bumpkin."
In any place where many people gathered, this is the obvious scenery one would expect. Even if I understood the theory, I still felt a little sad that the decades spent livingof common sense learned in the countryside still shackled my way of thinking.

The past and present mind can't be so easily divided, so even now when I let my mind wander, I would worry about the chicken coop, or who was going to clean the church, and I would become restless. If it weren't for my master's call, I likely would have spent the rest of my days in that place.
Whether that would be considered happiness or not is another story, though.

Despite thinking deeply on these things, my feet still moved. Looking down at the River Thames, I stepped onto London Bridge.

Crossing to the southern side of the current Bridge, built by Queen Elizabeth II, the atmosphere of the city changed drastically. The number of sight-seers seemed to decrease, and in their place people of all races mixed together to create a distinct downtown feel - to say it like that makes it sound good, but to sum it up, it was more like the public order began to break down. Like the well known anecdote of Bermondsey Market being a place for thieves to sell their goods.

But, that was a thing of the past.

From under the arches built of dirty bricks, I turned on to Druid Street, and after turning down a nearby side road, the presence of other people abruptly vanished. A Bounded Field, my master had called it. According to my master, magecraft wasn't needed to set up a Bounded Field. A place that naturally repelled people, without the need for external, mysterious powers, functioned best as a Bounded Field, or something like that. Well, the term originally came from Buddhism anyways, and the Concept that repels people is something much more basic than magecraft, a fundamental function of the brain, and many other related things came out in the discussion, but I don't remember much more than that.

(It's probably something really important to remember, though.)

Unfortunately, I'm not that smart of a person.
This is another thing that I had become painfully aware of since I arrived in London two months ago. Thanks to my master's recommendation, I was able to enter as a student into the Clock Tower, but I couldn't understand anything from well over half of the classes there. In the very heart of that place of study, if someone were to look at me, I'm sure I'd have a stupid expression like I had just had a mountain of gold dumped on me.

It was a little frustrating, but if I was to add one more comment, I would say that my master wasn't all that skilled to begin with. If he tried to just make a Bounded Field using his own ability, he would be capable of only the lowest of the lowest grade of results, so he probably picked this place specifically so he wouldn't have to. Or at least so I secretly thought.

As I thought this, the reddish brown building that was home to my master's apartment came into view. On this Autumn morning, it stood there, looking just as unhappy as always.

***

For the most part, living spaces like this were called Flats in England. I called it an apartment anyways, out of simply copying my master's habit, but I have no idea why he called it as such. Anyways, my master's apartment building was as awful as always. The ivy coiling around the building, and the weeds poking up through the cracks gave a kind of pleasant charm, but the reddish brown brick walls and chimney were so riddled with cracks, that even small gusts of wind would send chips and pieces raining down. There were a lot of very old homes in Europe, but this place was on a different level. A quick estimate would put it at easily over a hundred years old. To the point that, if one were to say it had been built during the Industrial Revolution it would sound believable.

Because of that, it looked weak enough that if you were to just push on the side of the building a little bit, it would start a chain reaction that would cause the whole thing to collapse. Unable to suppress these thoughts, I gave a small prayer in hopes of preventing such an event from occuring as I gingerly pushed open the front door.

Entering into the comparatively spacious lobby, my shoulders instinctively tensed up at the echoes of someone shouting angrily.

"Don't screw with me!"

The voice resounded throughout the lobby.

The middle of the lobby was dominated by a large, spiral staircase. Reaching up three levels, doors leading to differing apartments were visible. They were close enough that the owners of these apartments should easily have been able to hear the angry voice, but not one of them seemed to be about to react to it. It seemed unlikely that they had sound-proofed their rooms, so did that mean they were already accustomed to this kind of noise? Beside the lobby was a small space for the building manager, but through the small window I could only see a lone old woman, nodding off in her rocking chair.

"...*Nyaah*."

The cat sitting on the old woman's lap gave a small meow before once again closing its eyes and returning to sleep. Seeing this, I suddenly wanted to do the same.

But, it would not be acceptable for me to ignore my master's orders, so instead I made my way to the second floor.

As I continued up the stairs, the voices speaking became clearer and clearer.

"You know as well as I how much of a nuisance that castle is! And as a Testament? Why would you volunteer for something like that?!"

The irritated voice was blunt and confrontational. More and more, my desire to avoid it was increasing. Thinking of my master's complaints, all I wanted to do was take a right turn and run away.

But.

"That was also the result of considering it seriously," his companion said. The voice was that of a young woman. Though it was a gentle voice, it had an undeniable air of mischief to it. She seemed unable to hide the fact that she was enjoying the situation, or maybe she had no intention to hide it in the first place.

"If you thought about it seriously, how on Earth did you get to that conclusion?"

"Naturally, it was in response to my great brother's wishes."

"My wishes?"

In response to my master's suspicious-sounding voice, I could sense a mischievously grinning presence.
If this door hadn't been there, for sure I would have seen a victor's self-satisfied smile.

"For example. If you are able to clean up this incident nicely, then if you were to suddenly say something like 'I want to go to the Far East,' you might still make it in time, don't you think? The Clock Tower has yet to decide who's going to participate in that War or whatever, right? If you want to do something to put yourself in the running, there isn't much time left."

As if he had received a brilliant counter, the man's voice turned into a groan.
With the sound of grinding teeth, something like a curse slipped out.

"What kind of demon are you?"

"Oh, just your beloved, beloved little sisterstep-sister."

It was as if I could see the voice of an expert storyteller.
I sensed a nod, and as if consoling her opponent, the girl dropped her tone and whispered.

"Now now, my esteemed brother. I've tried to take your feelings into consideration here, too."

"And how is that?"

"For instance, how I've overlooked the fact that you've decided to live here in an apartment of your own instead of at the El-Melloi mansion. The very fact you are here paying rent at a building owned by our own family is absurd in and of itself."

"It's the opposite of absurd. The rent I pay goes into paying off my debt to the El-Melloi family. There is no more efficient way of handling it."

In response to his immediate reply, the girl's gave a sarcastic laugh.

"Hah. That's a nice thought, but if you do nothing but take a handful of sand out of the desert each month, isn't saying you're trying to get rid of the desert a bit of an overstatement?"

"That's just an issue of feelings. Either way, I have no desire to rely on the assets of the El-Melloi family."

"For not having any interest in the El-Melloi's fortune, isn't trying paying back your debt to said fortune a bit contrarian?"

Something in the banter that came across through the closed door seemed cheerful. It reminded me of a mean-spirited owner taking pleasure in watching their pet cat bristling and glaring. It seemed undeniable that the determining factor in the hierarchy of this relationship was not the age of its participants, but something that they had been born with.

Sure enough, after a long groan, the conversation continued.

"I have conditions."

"Oh?"

"For starters, I will take care of this case entirely myself. My Lady, I will not permit you to have a hand in it."

With a resolve like there was nothing more he could pray for, his obstinate voice laid out that declaration.

"Is that a problem?"

His companion gave a bitter laugh. As if acknowledging she had outstayed her welcome, I could sense the girl stand up.

"Alright, alright. Well then, dearest brother, I'll leave the rest to you."

"....Oh."

I quickly distanced myself from the door, so I could at least avoid the appearance of eavesdropping. In truth I wanted to find somewhere to hide, but the approaching presence from beyond the door wasn't moving so leisurely as to allow that.

A few seconds later, the door opened to reveal brilliant blonde hair. Shortly after, pale white skin reminiscent of a Bisque Doll, and both clothes and grace that were similarly picturesque. But, the most impressive feature about her was definitely her eyes - blazing like fire, overflowing with strength and determination. As they turned to me, they remained unchanged. I couldn't help but wonder, for a girl who seemed no older than fifteen, what kind of life had she lead to have eyes like that?

Reines El-Melloi Archisorte.

My master's step sister, and the girl who sealed his place as a Lord. Behind her, a somewhat strange looking maid followed her.

What was strange was the colour of her skin. She was not caucasian, nor black, nor East Asian in appearance. No, her skin was a colour completely unsuited to human beings - a shining silver. The maid, given the name Trimmau I had been told, was apparently the leading design in the field of Automata. It's been said that even though the field of magecraft which deals with creating artificial humans has already started its decline, this particular Automata was of a completely different essence, and so avoided the problem, but that was something a person like me couldn't really get their head around.

Reines' gaze quickly snapped in my direction.

"Oh? So you are here as well?"

"...yes."

Troubled about how I should respond, I dropped my gaze, prompting a cute little laugh from her. With a teasing smile, the golden-haired girl opened her mouth again.

"How is life as an apprentice? Has your wily master been picking on you at all?"

"...umm...compared to living in the countryside, it's much more comfortable."

As if she was peering inside me, the girl nodded several times.

"Well, that is certainly good to hear. After all, for someone like my brother to take in a disciple, it's not for something simple like taking care of the housework. In a way, you are like the last line of defense. Do you understand? It's an important responsibility, you know?"

"...I'll do my best."

Not knowing how to respond, I meekly lowered my gaze. As I did so, Reines extended a single white finger.

"You'd be much cuter if you just took that hood off, you know."

With a swift clap on my hooded cloak, she made her way past me and began descending the spiral staircase. In truth, I kind of admired her. They weren't connected by blood, but they were still siblings, so I couldn't help but think that it would be nice if my master inherited some of the same character.

But, the real world is a heartless thing.

Breathing a sigh in my heart, I steeled myself,

"...Excuse me."

...and opened the door.

A sudden cloud of dust sent me straight into a coughing fit.

The interior was exactly what one would expect of a cheap apartment. As far as size, it was nothing spectacular, but as if ignoring the restrictions on space, things were scattered about haphazardly. Without any sense of order, things ranging from an inordinate amount of books, to an antique-looking desk, various pieces of mouldy bread, and for some reason even a number of well-worn family game consoles were all packed into the tight space of the apartment.

If asked, he would say that all of them were very important things, but he was truly a master with no sense of his own state of affairs. Though from the way that he struggled looking for things, always complaining about "not being able to find this" or "not being able to find that," it may be less that he didn't understand his situation, and more that he was just incapable of keeping it clean. Previously, I had offered to help clean the place up a bit, but my offer had been instantly rejected. He had said that he wanted to be left alone on his holidays, but truth be told I couldn't really see what he would do alone in a room like this, even on a holiday.

Careful not to step on the bits of bread and books scattered across the floor - while simultaneously wondering how Reines and her maid had managed to navigate the place - I made my way to a large table in the center of the room, near to the sofa that my master was now lying on.

"Excuse me, Master."

...No response.

Lying on the sofa as if unconscious, his closed eyelids hinted at his current mood of trying to reject reality. If his pride had allowed it, I feel like he would have been covering his ears and shouting too. He may have been my master, but he was still pretty easily upset when it came to these things.

"It's your apprentice, Gray."

Just to be sure, I spoke up once again, but as expected there was no response. Giving up, I shifted my gaze to the table. In the middle of the various bits of clutter was a single space that looked like it had been cleared up. Sitting there was a cup of lukewarm tea, in addition to a handful of photographs. I didn't have much desire to look into them, but even so one of the photographs caught my attention.

It just looked too...strange.

It looked like a part of some sort of religious painting. The picture, depicting a scene in the sky, overflowed with a sense of holiness and austerity. The point the picture focused on seemed far too out of place - a blazing wheel. Floating imposingly in mid-air, it was like a gatekeeper of the heavens, the wheel's outer rim lined with eyes whose gazes all seemed to fixate on me.

"...some sort of wheel monster...?"

"...I won't ask you to try and be poetic or anything, but isn't there maybe a slightly more suitable description?"

As I inspected the picture with head tilted to the side, a voice ripe with exhaustion called out to me.

"Ah, Master."

As if it was a nuisance to bother doing so, my master lifted the upper half of his body off the sofa, scratching his head. From outward appearances, he seemed to be around 30 years old. How he managed to keep his long hair with his lifestyle was a mystery, but it was kept nicely enough that his eccentricity wouldn't seem like shabbiness. Likely, that was thanks to his being brought up in a well-off family.

"It may just be on a temporary basis, but even so, as a Magus' apprentice, please don't throw around the word 'monster' so cheaply. This is one of the Angels of Law."

Speaking up again, my master tapped on the photograph on the table.

"An angel? What about this is like an angel?"

"The image of angels as human-like with wings has become pretty popular, but it was really influenced primarily by the images of the goddess of victory, Nike, of 4th Century Greek mythology. Angels can actually be divided into a number of lineages. In this case, it might best serve to start with an explanation of what angels really are."

Stroking his chin, my master continued to speak in a grumbling tone.

"The first are those living things which exist above and beyond myths, which have been reclassified as angels. The second are beings born from the authority of a previous master, that became angels in the process of becoming independent. There are any number of hypotheses, but the ThroneSeated Angel you are looking at is probably closer to the former. Taking its master's Power into itself, it is an angel whose primary purpose is just to carry it."

"So it's a wheel, because it's being used to carry that Power?"

"The current interpretation is the opposite, actually. It seems likely that this angel is used to carry Power because its a wheel. Take a look at the Bible. In the writings of the prophet Ezekiel, where there is a description of his 'eyes captured by the face of a wheel shining like beryl.' To digress a little bit, there are even theories that these are what people are seeing when they claim to see UFOs."

"Angel's are...UFOs?"

The astoundingly abrupt change in conversation left me blinking in confusion. Seeing this, my master began to laugh. Considering how suddenly his mood had improved, it seemed we had struck upon a topic of particular interest to him.

"There was a group in the 20th century that called anything and everything a UFO, I suppose. Everything from the baptism of Christ to the frescos of Egypt were all, 'without a doubt,' caused by UFOs. There isn't any particularly deep meaning to it, but wheels flying through the sky do seem to stir up the imagination. For starters, a lot of those reports were caused by hippies, who were just using drugs to the point it was their own minds that were flying away...what's that look for, all of the sudden?"

"Oh, I was just thinking, there sure are a lot of people like Master in the world, aren't there?"

"Don't group me together with people like that. Sometimes rather overbearing reasoning is required, but magecraft can't proceed just from cobbling together a bunch of subjective, personal theories. Besides, that's not a problem for a disciple of magecraft, it's a matter of general education."

Despite saying something like "even if you're a temporary disciple" earlier, he cleanly retracted his previous words while laughing through his nose. Somewhere in his face that looked somehow triumphant, childishness and mean-spiritedness made their unhappy peace with eachother.

His name, El-Melloi II.

Of the 12 Great Families in the Clock Tower, conferred upon him was the title of Lord of the Noble House of El-Melloi.

Part 2

It might be a bit late, but my master is actually a Magus.

Magecraft is the art of appealing to the foundations of the World, through the use of OdoSmall Source and ManaLarge Source, to enact phenomena of change within the scope of what is already realistically possible...or something like that. I was told Odo is the life force present in every human being, while Mana is magical energy that fills the world around us, but my understanding of the subject is still pretty shaky.

One thing I do know for certain is that to be a Magus means to turn your back on the world, and to devote yourself entirely to nothing but yourself and your craft. I was told once that the very act of keeping Magecraft hidden from the public eye was important, but secretly I sometimes thought that Magi were just people that liked to lock themselves up in their rooms and neglect the outside world.

So...

"...I understand the story about Angels."

Trying to restrain my facial expression from clearly showing my feelings, I bowed my head.

Yes, this was my master.

Perhaps in contemporary society things are different, but at least where I lived previously, it was common to pay your superiors their due respect. So even if my master was unlikable, I still had to take a proper attitude.

"...On another topic, do you not intend to live in the mansion with Reines?"

"You think I could survive together with that devil? My stomach would be broken in three days. It already feels broken now..."

Lying on the sofa and rubbing his abdomen, my master made a sullen face. After a short while, he gave a tired sigh.

"Anyway, I said I'd take on the request, so I need to take at least the bare minimum of measures."

"...I see."

Since I didn't really know the details of their discussion, there was nothing for me to do but give a seemingly appropriate yet effectively meaningless response. As if he had realized something, my master closed one eye and gave a short hum.

"Speaking of which, what do you think of Angels?"

"...this again?"

I'm sure my distaste for the topic was written clearly on my face. Whether it was in relation to Magecraft or not, I was pretty weak when it came to long conversations. Considering how straight-forward reality tended to be, it seemed to me that living people talked far too much. Especially those in the city.

"...err, they are messengers of the Lord who bring his blessings to humans, right? A long time ago, the priest near my home used to speak about them a lot."

"I'm not asking about them in the general sense. I mean, what do you think about them as far as Magecraft is concerned?"

"Ehheheheheheh! Even if you say it like that, there's no way she'll understand! She's pretty stupid, after all!"

Suddenly, a cheerful voice sprung up.
Naturally, the only people in the room were my master and myself. So, this must have been a third, formless person's voice. Both my master and I knew the true identity of that voice's owner, so it didn't particularly surprise either of us. Rather, knowing it was a waste of time to engage them, we simply ignored it as much as possible and continued with the explanation.

"...though I am not all that smart, to be honest."

"That's not the problem. Even beyond the fact that you are my disciple, I won't sit idly by and let one of my own be insulted in front of my very eyes. Remember that."

The sound of something slamming shut resounded.

Maybe because of the sudden change in tone from the previous conversation, the third voice abruptly retreated into silence.

With that settled, my master then extended his hand towards the table. Taking a cigar from his metal cigar case, he used a knife to cut a small piece off at the mouth. Striking a match, he lit the cigar and took a deep pull on it. With that done, he intertwined his fingers on his lap.

"Let's begin a new lecture, then."

In that lax fashion, he began to speak.

"First, let's start with the Angels you spoke of, the messengers of God. That's also correct. In fact, the Angels used in Magecraft draw their foundations from those ones. The abilities of these Angels who deliver the blessings of God are important to Magi in the modern era. Particularly, the use of Angels is currently in a state of being reinvented by modern Magi."

Even though it was a similar explanation yet again, this time I was able to understand it properly. The difference was obvious. The previous explanation was that of a common person, whereas this one was one from a lecturer of the Clock Tower. Losing his languid facial expression from earlier, my master now looked at me from across the table with a sharp gaze.

...Yes.

My master was not all that skilled when it came to Magecraft.

This wasn't humility, or modesty, or underestimation. It really was the case that, for better or for worse, he was just ordinary. Even if he was an authority within the Clock Tower at the moment, it was unheard of for such a figure to remain in the Fourth Order, or so I had overheard countless times from others in the two months I had been here. And yet, my master's value was not low by any means.

As a lecturer, he had managed to cultivate astounding results, to the point where I who was in the position of his personal apprentice was getting rushed down by other students. To have the honour of being taught personally by that Lord El-Melloi II. Honestly, the envious stares hurt.

If I were to give an example, our relationship would be like that of a boxer and their second, or an athlete and their coach. Even if I had the perfect form in mind, I didn't have the abilityspecifications to actualize them. I didn't know how my master truly felt about those circumstances. What I did know, however, were the various nicknames that had sprung up for him in the Clock Tower thanks to his odd situation.

For example, Professor Charisma.
Or Master V.

There are a few more, but they are rather impolite, so I will refrain from repeating them.

In any case, I raised a question regarding the previous subject matter.

"What's being reinvented, the Angels?"

"Yes. You know about the four classical elements, right?"

While savouring the flavour of his cigar, my master raised four fingers.

Earth, Water, Fire, Wind. Listing these, he lowered a finger for each. These, called the four classical elements, were a fundamental part of Magecraft, and were something even I knew about.

"In Ancient Greece, these were the four elements begotten by the Arche," my master said.

Arche was Greek for the beginning of all things...or something along those lines, if I recalled correctly.

"According to Alchemy, the four elements and the Origin are one and the same. Even now, most people treat them that way. Things like the 12 Constellations, or the Five Elements of Oriental thought, are no different. They just serve as convenient systems to classify all of reality. Although those are the four elements used by places like the Clock Tower, we could actually add various elements, like Void, and the chemical elements. This tends them towards a more practical tint, but now I'm getting off track."

"Uhh, I was told that I was Earth."

"Right. In that kind of meaning, it's used to generalize where your talents and weaknesses lie. There are also those with Double Elements, even some monstersAverage Ones with all Five Elements, but let's get back to the original topic. In short, the system of Elements was used as a system of classification out of convenience, but starting with the rise of modern Magecraft at the end of the 19th century, that's begun to change. With the addition of the Concept of Angels to the system, they have been given a new meaning."

"A new meaning?"

"Correct."

Watching me to gauge how well I was understanding what he was saying, he continued to speak.

"The 'Vessels of Power' that a great number of people now believe in."

As if supporting a sacred cup over the table, he gave a small nod, and silence fell between us.

Smoke from my master's cigar began to gather in his cupped hands. The image reminded me of sanctified water. Were Angels supposed to be that water? Or the shape he was making with his hands?

"Magecraft is something that must be kept secret, but in contrast, Concepts become stronger and more stabilized as more people have faith in them. Similarly influenced by the thought process behind the Occult, poets like Baudelaire, Arthur Rimbaud, and WB Yeats strongly influenced the process."

My master's voice echoed heavily in the confined space of his apartment.

Next, from the vessel created by my master, the illusion of some kind of wave began to spread out. No, that might have actually been what was happening. Maybe I was just not smart enough to understand these kinds of phenomenon, but manipulating this kind of invisible 'power' was supposed to be the fundamental function of Magi. The repeating waves extending from his hands reflected off the various mirrors and charms in the apartment and surrounded us.

It seemed almost as if the room itself had been transformed into a Shrine.

"Did you just think this seemed like a Shrine?"

"...."

"There's no need to be surprised. I specifically made it to seem like that, so your judgment is dead on. Because I actually am turning this room into a Shrine right now."

"Huh?"

Blinking in surprise, I had no idea what he meant.

Maybe my face looked a little strange, because my master began to chuckle. He seemed to be enjoying himself so much it felt like I had fallen for some sort of trap.

"You felt a strange change in the atmosphere, right? That's a shrine. In Latin, it would be called 'templum,' but you can just think of it as a place where God is able to manifest temporarily."

Maybe it was because the talk of Angels already implied a connection to the Church, but for some reason I easily understood his explanation.

"So basically, it's not just a place where believers go to worship, but a place in which God is actually present, so we call it a Shrine, right?"

"Yes, exactly. Right now, it might seem like I'm using the symbolism of a holy cup and various things around the room to make it look like that, but in reality this is the real deal. It's common for magecraft to require consecrated land, right? It's a technique that might look similar to the Bounded Fields of Buddhism, but in this case Angels are at the core of the effect."

"..."

As my master stopped speaking for a moment, I also descended into thought.

A Shrine is a place where God can manifest temporarily. And Angels are 'Vessels of Power.' So in this case, the relationship between the two is...

"So...does that mean the name Angel is just given to anything with an ambiguous magical nature, and are being used by magecraft?"

"Correct."

Still on the sofa, my master picked up the now long-cold tea and put it to his lips.

"Before, I mentioned that as more people believe in them, Concepts become more stable. That being the case, it wouldn't be strange for someone to think that they could use this wide spread Concept of Angels to stabilize the existence of Magecraft. Actually, if you look at a number of different magical societies, you can find many who find this way of thinking exceedingly alluring."

Putting the cup down, my master raised two fingers.

Using his fingers, he drew a pentagram in the air before him, whispering something like 'Before me Raphael, Behind me Gabriel' under his breath.

"That was what is called the Ritual of the Lesser Pentagram. It calls on the names of the Four Archangels, each representing one of the four elements, to consecrate an area or prepare for further various applications of Magecraft. Of course, something as simple as this prayer could be found easily in a magazine nowadays. Of course, rituals like this that flow throughout the world are almost all dummies, just observational, or just plain nonsense, so the Clock Tower just leaves them as they are."

With a satisfied expression, he moved his gaze to the window. A thin stream of sunlight made its way through a gap in the curtains. The phrase 'gap' really seemed to be fitting for people like us. The distance between us and the world...places overflowing with light, in contrast to the space we occupied, and the tiny gap in which the two were able to interact.

The faint light, like an Angel.

"That being said, the changes of a Concept do have an effect on Magecraft," my master murmured.

In the cup now left on the table, ripples were forming on the surface of the tea. It seemed like the ritual my master had performed was having an effect on it, even if a little late.

"Further, it may have simply all just been a part of someone's plan. Rituals that use the name of the Lord to bind demons were in abundant supply in the past. Of course, being Magi, it's not like everyone is a pious follower of Christianity. We simply made use of the universalized concept of the Name of the Lord, under which all things must submit. In recent times, its similar to how an Internet Protocol works - well, I guess that explanation would just confuse you even more. With that line of reasoning, the use of Angels was an inevitable point on the road. Compared to using the Name of the Lord, it's a much easier Concept to make use of after all."

That I understood.

The Concept of God was one that had a distinct "colour" to it. You could also call it faith. In comparison to that, Angels came in many variations, like Guardian Angels and Fallen Angels. For this reason, the kinds of rituals that could be used exploiting Angels was far greater.

And that was why my master had called it a reinvention.

"Now, the development of new Magecraft in the West is almost entirely dominated by the influence of these Angels. No, it's not actually limited to new Magecraft. It may be subtle, but the Concept of Angels almost certainly has an effect on all Magecraft. For the modern Magus, whether the goal is to make use of Angels or eliminate them, in some form they are conscious of any changes that occur in regards to them."

My master closed his eyes. Then slowly, as if sighing,

"In a way, it's safe to say that the modern Magus is in the business of collecting Angels."

"..."

Despite my insensitivity to matters of Magecraft, those words resounded even with me. They were somewhat poetic, but more than that, they seemed to cut straight to the heart of the truth. As if he was pausing to let the profoundness of those words sink in, the silence that followed was longer than previous ones.

"And so, the problem now is that castle," he said, moving his finger.

He was pointing at one of the pictures spilling out of an envelope sitting on the table. In a place that looked like the far depths of the wilderness, with its curving spires and warped ramparts, stood a grey castle.

"Ah."

Right.

Originally Reines had come here with a request for my master. I had become so engrossed in the lecture that I had completely forgotten. Hanging my head to hide the embarrassed expression on my face, I spoke.

"So, is there something with this castle?"

"I mentioned this earlier, but again, what I'm talking about is the public appearance of Magecraft - basically, the kind of magic that has become a household word. In reality, the Magecraft we use is something beyond that. It would be a mistake to say that the changes with the Angels have no effect here, but the details of that effect are unimportant. The real matter of importance is unrelated to that. Mysticism and Occultism act as if they are within the same domain as Magecraft, but they are not equal by any means."

My master's face become somewhat melancholic. He only ever received absurd requests from his step-sister, it was practically her calling card. Even so, he couldn't refuse. Apparently there was something involving an enormous sum of money, but I didn't know the details. The only thing I knew for sure was that it was directly related to the reason he received the title of Lord El-Melloi II. In a bitter voice, my master spoke again.

"But, as a Lord, there are Magi within my realm of influence who have become fascinated with these ideas. Of all things, they've become so obsessed with them that they want to remake the castle within their own territory. Take another look at that photograph."

Looking closely, it became quite clear that the castle had a very strange shape to it. Maybe it was a result of the weather at the time the photograph was taken, but with the way the sunlight washed over the castle, it projected a shadow as if the castle itself had an enormous, magnificent pair of wings. It looked like a winged god that had lost its arms and head. It was a design that was very reminiscent of the images of Nike of Samothraces that my master had spoken of earlier. The degree of appropriateness that coincidence had was enough to send shivers up my spine.

It was almost as if the castle itself was a single living entity.

Yes.

...as if that castle itself were an Angel.

"The Castle of Separation, Adra," my master declared.

"It's previous master called it that, apparently. It seems that said master had some connections with the previous Lord El-Melloi. Honestly, if the previous Lord El-Melloi saw what was happening now, he'd be jumping for joy. I feel like he would harass me for hours, saying something like 'this is what you get for messing with things that don't belong to you.'"

The previous Lord El-Melloi.

Like now, his name came up in conversation every now and then, but it was still a mystery what kind of person he had been. All I had heard was that compared to my master, he had been an unprecedented genius. Also, from gathering little scraps of conversations, it seemed like he was a bit pessimistic by nature, but I couldn't tell for sure.

That, and one more thing.

It was something I didn't realize until later. Likely fairly early in the morning, my master had decided to accept the request he received from Reines. Whether he was just making the necessary arrangements, or was just gathering information, I didn't know, but whether he was being caught up in these developments against his will, or he had just plain given up and accepted it, it was sure to be something that hurt his stomach.

If you ask why, it would be because, after worrying about it for a while,

"...so, yes. I'm sorry, my Lady, but tomorrow I'm going to go take a look. Could I trouble you to join me?"

My master - Lord El-Melloi II, with an unpleasant expression and a bitter voice, asked me.

Part 3

It is often said that vegetation is sparse in the United Kingdom. Not only was the northern edge of the country covered in ice, but many forests were wiped out due to deforestation during the Industrial Revolution. On top of that, with the highest mountain in the country being a mere 1344 meters, the natural environment was far from diverse.

That being said.

From what I had personally seen, the country was plenty spacious, and filled with all kinds of life.

Past the bushes of bracken at the foot of the mountain, layers upon layers of ash and oak trees surrounded the path cutting gently up the side of the hill. Though the path itself looked somewhat tiring, what was more so was the journey here. It had taken 14 hours by train, including countless transfers, to get into the general area. Then, after staying the night at a local inn, the journey continued with 3 hours on a bus, and another 5 hours of walking. In short, we were now in the middle of nowhere.

The cool September wind was refreshing, and brought with it a myriad of scents. The scent of wet earth, churned thoroughly by each step taken. The gentle scent of herbs, most likely wild heather. The mouldy smell of thick sap, the hesitantly gathering insects, the rotting of trees and the droppings of small animals. All of these were smells I was very familiar with.

There was so much life, it couldn't be thought of as dirty. Similarly in this case, there was so much death, it couldn't be thought of as beautiful. These two ideas always seemed to come as a set.

Thoughts about my life in London clouded my mind. Even though there were some few ten thousand times as many people there compared to my home, it was a place that made me feel most of the people there were in the service of "death." Even though it was a town built with such cleanliness in mind, it gave me goosebumps countless times. Even if my two month stay there were to become twenty years, I would never be able to accept that place, and I'm sure it would never be able to accept me either.

Even now, just thinking about it caused such feelings of dread-

"...w, wait...!"

"---!"

The hand that landed on my shoulder, shaking just like a zombie, made me flinch. As if I had been caught by Medusa's eyes, I stiffly turned as little as I could to see behind me.

"M-master...!"

Of course, the outstretched hand belonged to the deeply distressed, sweat-drenched form of my master.

"M-my lady, could we please slow down a little bit?" he wheezed.

Luckily or not, it seemed he didn't notice my reaction. After all, if he had had the composure to do so, he most definitely would not have let it slide. Using my fingers to massage my stiffened face, I replied nonchalantly.

"But master, at this rate, we will be late to the invitation's designated meeting time."

"...okay, then at least give me 10 minutes. No, 5 minutes. Just please let me sit down."

Breathing heavily, he he raised five fingers.

"...you have three minutes."

Giving him that compromise, I leaned up against a nearby oak. To my slightly overheated body, the cool bark of the tree felt pleasant. Really, I preferred stone to trees, and even earth to stone, but this place didn't seem like it had any intention of indulging me. If I were to close my eyes here and sleep, I felt like everything so far could have been a dream. But if I were to wake up and find myself back in my hometown, what would happen?

Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my right hand.

"Ihihihihi! Just because your a magus, you think that makes it okay for you to have a weak body?"

Again, it was neither my master nor I that spoke, but a third voice without a body. Strictly speaking, the voice came from my right hand, but even so, my master simply looked at the ground and complained in an exhausted voice about being brought up in the city.

This third voice never did anything but spout insults and abuse. Ever since I was able to recognize things around me, this third voice had always been with me, but I hadn't once seen it improve in any way. That being said, over the past few decades, it had only had the chance to speak to about five people, myself included.

(...Have I not changed much, either?)

I thought to myself idly.

Since two months ago, the number of people I have properly spoken two hadn't even doubled. My environment had changed to a bewildering degree, but I hadn't changed at all. It felt like I was just being left behind. Compared to the half-hearted way I was now, surely even the resolve I had mustered in leaving my home town was better. It was like I alone was just floating aimlessly like a jellyfish.

My master, as he cursed while massaging his feet, and this thing at my right hand, and even if nothing else at least my own state of being, were all clearly spelled out for me. So why was I still so clumsy?

"...why am I still such an idiot?"

Like a curse, I whispered those words.

After that, following countless complaints and requests for breaks from my master, we came to a place where the forest opened up into a clearing.

"Hey hey, what's that?" the voice at my right hand gave an amazed moan. I also bunched my eyebrows.

It was a rock.

A rock so big that if three adult men were to work together, they might be able to lift it. On that rock was the figure of a person lying down. On top of the rock, with a surface reminiscent of a tortoise's shell, he skillfully rolled around as if half asleep, while still keeping his balance.

Even as it looked like he was about to fall, he never did. Like those water-drinking birds I used to watch when I was a child, when he looked like he was about to stop, he would keep moving. On the green surface of the rock, his burly figure continued to sway back and forth, and just when it seemed like the slightest of pushes would send him crashing to the ground - his eyes snapped open, and he looked directly at us.

"Ah, you're finally here!"

Calmly spinning himself into a cross-legged posture, he sat up and waved.

His filthy hands were thick and muscled. His face seemed as if it hadn't been shaved, or taken care of in any way, in months. Dust and dirt caked his skin to the point his natural skin tone was unreadable.

His clothes gave the feeling of something like a nomad, but even they couldn't hide his muscularity. His arms, legs, and even his neck were startlingly thick, the hard work gone into forging them evident. He may have been only slightly taller than my master, but I wouldn't be surprised if his weight was close to double.

"Well, you two look like an odd group. Well, you look odd enough on your own, but this young lady looks completely different. Wait, this isn't some kidnapping in progress, is it?"

His loud laughter revealed surprisingly white teeth. His dark eyes were also quite pretty. But, there was an unmistakable danger within them. They were eyes that held a feeling like a child's innocence mixed with an elder's cunning.

"...u-um"

"...who are you?"

In my place, my exhausted master spoke. His voice carried a tiredness that said even speaking was a chore.

"Flue," the man replied. "That's my name."

"...that's a pretty cute name, for someone looking like yourself."

"Well, my whole name is Flueger, but I don't like it that much. If you just stop at Flue, it's a much more pleasant name, like a gentle breeze," he said with a certain deepness.

Rather than a gentle breeze, I thought the harsh desert sun, or a brilliant spotlight like in a pro wrestling arena was more suitable to him, but he did have a mysteriously refreshing quality about him. My master, however, just seemed irritated. Even I was blinking in surprise at him. In our past incidents, we rarely came across people like him.

(-Hihi, if your master is a skinny fox, then I guess that makes this guy a half-asleep camel, doesn't it?)

Once again, a voice came from near my right hand. This time, it was a whisper low enough that only I could hear it.

"Hmmm?"

The man - Flue, snapped his gaze over to me. It was unthinkable that he had actually heard the voice. Even so, his cheerful yet scrutinizing gaze looked me up and down. His impolite, yet not quite vulgar gaze seemed to see right through me. With a bewildered air, he raised one finger.

"Why are you wearing that grey hood? You're an awfully pretty girl, and it doesn't look like your hiding any scars or anything..."

"That's...because..."

"I'd appreciate if you left my apprentice alone, thank you very much."

While I was struggling to find an answer, my master forced himself between the two of us.

"Ah, so you are a teacher and student! I thought you had the face of a teacher, but I wasn't quite sure..."

"And what kind of face is that?"

"High strung and nervous, yet still looking like you are someone who takes care of others? Butlers from those old black and white movies made that face a lot, too."

With an apologetic expression, Flue scratched his head.

"You seem a little bit too straightforward to be a magus, don't you think?"

Of course, neither I nor my master were under any illusion that our meeting with him this far in the wilderness was a simple coincidence. After taking another breath, my master spoke again.

"So you also received the invitation?"

"Ohh, yes!"

Flue jumped down from the rock on which he was still sitting. Reaching into his robes, he pulled out an envelope that, in contrast to the rest of his appearance, was in pristine condition. It was made of high grade paper, with a faint watermark. Even without looking, we could tell that the symbol pressed into the sealing wax and the watermark depicted an angel's feather. Naturally, we carried that exact envelope with us.

"Why exactly were you taking a nap in a place like this?"

"Well, I got a bit lonely walking all by myself," he said something ridiculous. Waving his envelope in the air, he laughed affably. "I figured, if I got an invitation like this, then there must be someone else coming too. And look, bingo!"

"Did you ever consider the possibility that you might have been the last one to arrive?"

"I'd deal with it if it happened. I'd be on the verge of tears, but I'm pretty fast you know! I wouldn't be late."

He flexed his arms in what seemed to be some sort of poorly executed appeal. In some way, it reminded me of a lion trying its hardest to wag its tail. It seemed to match the sweat and dirt caked face, and his humourous impression.

In a way, maybe that was his personal virtue.

"...well, would you like to come with us, then?"

I asked suddenly, earning a chastising look from my master. In all honesty, I don't know why I said it. Neither I nor my master liked travelling with any more companions than were necessary, to the point that I could feel my own face heating up from shyness just from offering the invitation.

"Really?!"

With sparkling eyes, the man laughed cheerfully. The smile he gave was as extravagant as a fine alcohol in a bar.

"Alright! You won't have to ask me twice! But really, I'm glad you asked. Travelling alone is so boring."

"..."

Despite the sour face he was making, he extended a hand to my master.

"The name's Flue! Once again, it's a pleasure!"

"...Lord El-Melloi II. This is my apprentice Gray."

Though he didn't accept the handshake, he reluctantly offered at least his name in a way of greeting, prompting an impressed whistle from Flue.

"El-Melloi. I see, I see. You're the one from those rumors at the Clock Tower! Your that Lord that jumped from Mineralogy to Modern Magecraft, huh?"

"Yeah, that's right." This time, he cleanly cut eye contact after speaking.

"Oh, right. You wouldn't happen to have any alcohol on you, would you? I'm fresh out."

"I'm not in the habit of carrying alcohol around with me. And you aren't getting any of my cigars, either."

"Bleh."

After such a curt refusal, Flue proceeded to click his tongue repeatedly, as if he was close to tears.

"Let's get going, Gray! If you're slow we're leaving you behind!"

After kicking some sand and adjusting his coat, my master continued his ascent of the mountain path. Of course, 30 minutes later, the one who was slowest and constantly moaning for respite, was just as everyone predicted, my master.

-At long last, the Castle of Separation showed itself.

**************

I was unsure whether it was something that could really be called a castle. The tranquil lake that expanded behind it, and the rugged drawbridge before us certainly gave it that air. The interweaving of the forest, lake, and marble of the walls displayed a solemn beauty that would be hard to find in even in fairy tales. If comparing it to the many famous castles of Great Britain, it couldn't be said to be inferior in any way.

But.

The great, leaning spire gave off the impression of a spine twisted in agony. The countless marble bricks were piled up in a way that seemed perfectly calculated to make people feel uneasy. Of course, they must have been built up, but they gave the distinct impression that they existed in that shape from the start, and that they had just been dug up from their sleeping place deep in the earth of the mountain. It was a place that gave off that kind of impossible illusion.

-The crumbling castle gate, like a broken ribcage.
-The warped castle walls, like arms embracing the earth.
-The main building on the other side of the castle, even now reminded me of a beating heart.

It was as if some giant had had its skin and muscle torn away, and had been turned inside out. That was the kind of impression it left deep in the observer's mind.

"....ah..."

My body suddenly began to tremble.

Compared to the photographs I had seen earlier, it looked far more ominous - far more sublime.

The Castle of Separation, Adra.

"...so the children of Angels were giants?" my master murmured with a frown.

"Angels'...children?"

"From the books of the Apocrypha. If we believe the description from the first book of Enoch, the children of Angels and humans were up to 3000 cubits tall. In today's measurements, that would be about 1,300 meters. This castle would easily match that."

"Well, aren't we knowledgeable?"

Turning to face Flue, my master's expression steadily grew worse and worse.

"If you're a magus, you should at least know this much."

"There's a difference between just knowing something and being able to spit it out on a moment's notice. Besides, you aren't just reciting information blindly based on a single look, are you?"

"..."

"This is a place that would make you think of its creator, so shouldn't we be talking about that?"

"Speaking of which, what would you know about that?"

My master threw a sharp look at Flue as he asked.

"The creator of this Castle of Separation, the one known as the Magus of Ashbourne...surely you didn't come here without knowing at least that much?"

"Heheheh. Looks like I've really kicked the wrong hornet's nest."

In reply to Flue's droll response, my master pressed him further.

"We haven't asked you about who you really are yet, have we?"

Shrugging as if accepting the fact that this time there was no way to avoid the subject, Flue gathered the sleeves of his robes.

"I'm a mercenary. I work mostly in the Middle East, sticking my neck out whenever magic is involved. Every once in a while, the Clock Tower requests my services as well."

"So, you're a Spell Caster, huh?"

"Haha, sorry." Flue rubbed his own head apologetically.

I'd heard of them, too.

A magus was one who pursued the Truth of magecraft - sometimes called the "Spiral of Origin" - with everything they had, generation after generation, investing all means and abilities towards that end. The abilities they gained as a result of that pursuit were just a byproduct, and were nothing more than a means to which they could reach that Truth.

In contrast, there were also those who had no interest in the Truth, and who saw magecraft as a convenient tool to be exploited. These people were called Spell Casters. Normal magi detested these kinds of people like they were poisonous snakes. Or at least that was what I had been told within the Clock Tower.

"So, I imagine it would probably bother you to be seen with me. Shall we split up and enter separately then?"

With a depressed air, Flue pointed a finger at the draw bridge to the castle.

A few seconds passed.

"...you ask that now?"

After spitting out those words, my master stepped onto the drawbridge. Giving me a shy smile, Flue fell in step with me.

Through the open castle gate was a simple, yet spacious front garden. Made in the style of an English garden - or maybe more appropriately, as if the owner had little interest in it, the natural scenery gave off the strong impression of being built to the bare minimum of appearances. Even so, as if something had captured his interest, my master threw his gaze two or three times to some rose bushes behind the castle gate.

The scent of roses was thick. Though I didn't know all that much about flowers, so I didn't know if they were actually roses. Just that there was a thick, clinging scent in the air.

Standing at the entrance to the keep was a man in a slim-fitted suit. He somewhat gave off the impression of a butler.

"My apologies for the wait. Lord El-Melloi II, along with Mr. Flueger." With a courteous bow, he opened the door.

The lobby within was suprisingly large. And...

"...ahhh"

Unconsciously, I gulped.

It was a space overflowing with Angels.

Rows upon rows of Angel statues. They came in all different forms and materials, some wood, some iron, some even sculpted from what appeared to be crystal. In addition, stained glass depictions of bow-wielding cupids, paintings of valiant, sword-wielding Archangels, and frescos depicting Dominions bestowed with great authority adorned the space in abundance. Even the chandelier hanging from the ceiling bore the motif of an angel's wings and halo.

And they weren't just famous Angels either.

Angels like the ones my master had shown me - I had studied up on them a little before we left London - far from the classical depictions of Angels as holy beings, even those who appeared as little more than monsters were present. The bizarre, four winged and four-faced Cherubs, and the six-winged serpents known as Seraphs.

With their various forms and styles, the number of angels placed around the keep easily exceeded a few hundred.

(...)

As I looked, a terribly pungent sensation welled up in my throat.

There was no way something like this could be considered just a simple collection. No, if it was just a collection of art, there was no explanation for the mysterious pressure it created, considering its age and strength. It was as if someone had lavishly indulged in an obsession of theirs, and we had walked into that person's Cabinet of Curiosities. Or maybe walked directly inside their mind.

If that was the case, that made this place-

(...like brain matter.)

The atmosphere of the room felt thick and sticky. I involuntarily stumbled, placing both my hands on the stone floor. It became incredibly difficult to breathe. The trembling I felt when I first saw the castle became worse and worse. I felt like I was sinking into a swamp. And in that swamp floated countless eyes, watching us as we drowned. Observation that couldn't be escaped. For what felt like an eternity, I felt nothing but the sensation of falling into an Angel's brain.

"It's an illusion."

I heard a voice. I couldn't even tell where the voice came from.

"My Lady, this isn't even Magecraft. The 'colour' of this place is just appealing to your innate sensitivity. You are just being run down by your own abilities. It doesn't matter what, just create a new direction for it. You've learned the basics of Meditation, haven't you?"

Meditation? I didn't know anything about that. For that matter, I didn't even know where I was.

...But. A peculiar smell entered my nose.

It was like the smell was scratching at the back of my head - and as I smelled that familiar scent, the stone floor under my feet returned. The atmosphere was just sticky, so of course there were no floating eyeballs. I could hear my own laboured breathing, and felt an unpleasant sweat on my skin.

Looking down at me, my master had apparently started smoking a cigar.

"What did you see?"

"...umm...a swamp of brain matter, and eyes watching me..."

"I see. Defensive Meditation training was supposed to be one of the first things we covered, but I see I'll have to add it to your homework when we return."

"Guh..."

It was frustrating, but I couldn't argue.

Puffing out smoke from his cigar, my master turned his gaze to the center of the lobby.

"Of course, the other humans gathered here wouldn't lose to such hyperventilation, would they?"

Beside me, Flue also looked into the lobby. Immediately, he broke his gaze away. Following my master's gaze, from close to the spiral staircase in the lobby, a single person was approaching us.

"Whoa!"

At the same time as Flue hurriedly jumped behind a nearby pillar and hid, the approaching person greeted my master.

Blonde hair and blue eyes.

From his personal appearance, he looked like an impressive young man. He still seemed to be in his mid twenties, but he carried a sense of confidence and experience that didn't match his age. From his unblemished white suit, to his necktie pin encrusted with precious stones, to his calm and collected demeanour, his manliness seemed to be on a different level.

"It has been a while, Lord El-Melloi."

"Lord El-Melloi II, please. If you leave out the II, its a name too heavy for my shoulders."

"You are too humble. I have heard of your exploits as a Lord within the Clock Tower."

Beyond just sounding like he was trying to be polite, his voice held a genuine sincerity that was pleasant on the ears. It was a voice that seemed to reveal the months and years he had lived. There was no doubt he faced all obstacles in life with the same straightforwardness.

"You praise me too much. With your reputation within the Clock Tower, The Knight Heine Istari is much more illustrious than I am."

"I'm not the one who managed to get a title out of Her Excellency, though."

The joking words of my master were deflected hard and fast.

As my composure had returned somewhat, and I was already a little bit separated from the two of them, I turned to the hidden Flue.

"...is he famous?"

"Oi, you really don't know him? I thought you were El-Melloi's follower."

"...I only met him and entered the Clock Tower recently."

After my honest admission, Flue breathed a sigh.

He had even gone through the trouble of hiding himself, so there wasn't any reason for him to answer me, but the way he honestly responded to my inquiry reminded me that he was a good person in his own way.

"The Istari were a family well-noted for their alchemy, but Heine himself is an interesting case. At one point in the past, he had turned his back on the life of a magus and become a monk with the Church."

"The Church?"

In this circumstance, "The Church" did not refer to the everyday religious institution. It was the underside of that organization, a group whose primary goal was to hunt down "heretics." It was one of the very few organizations that surpassed the Clock Tower in scale. Their stance on the usage of Mysteries was rather different from that of the Clock Tower, so the two organizations were often in conflict with each other. To magi, it was something they disliked even talking about.

For me, the Church was an organization I was much more familiar with than the Clock Tower.

"Uh, so, why did he return to being a magus then?

"They didn't want his talent to go to waste, so his family pulled him back in."

Seeing my blinking face, Flue's mouth twisted slightly.

"Thanks to that, the relationship between the Church and the Clock Tower became even more problematic, and for a time things were actually rather dangerous. But I guess that just shows how much value he has. The Istari family must be so proud."

Which must have meant that the one who fought his way out of the Church was Heine Istari himself.

In order to defend the providence of God, the combat strength of the Church was tempered to a state beyond common comprehension. If he had used his own magic to defeat the master assassins from the Church, it was no wonder he was famous in the Clock Tower as well. From just hearing this one thing about him, he seemed like an unbelievable person - not just the deeds of a genius, but an impression closer to that of a great catastrophe.

(...but, that...)

I also thought of something else.

The fact that the assassins he had defeated with his own hands may have been his previous comrades - what feelings did that leave in Heine Istari?

As I mulled this over,

"...Brother."

A young girl, wearing a white one-piece dress, popped her head out from behind the spiral staircase where she had been hiding. With a timid behaviour that reminded me of a small bird, she couldn't have been more than 8 years old. The young man gave her a gentle smile.

"It's okay, Rosalind. Lord El-Melloi II is an honest person."

"...o-okay."

After pattering her way over to her brother, she bowed her head slightly.

"I'm his younger sister, Rosalind Istari. Pleased to meet you."

With a shyness that seemed even now like she would break down any moment, she greeted him.

Seeing her begin coughing and immediately guessing it was the smoke, my master hastily pulled his cigar from his mouth and returned it to his cigar case, earning an apologetic nod from Heine.

"So, that is-"

Raising his head, he looked over towards me. It seems at that same point, Flue entered his field of vision for the first time. Seeing Flue cover his face with a hand at having been discovered, my master asked Heine.

"Do you know Flue? We met him on our way here, and he decided to walk with us."

"...Yes."

The young man nodded.

The refreshing demeanour he had held up until now vanished in an instant, his voice now holding a cruel, inhumane quality.

"...yes. If you mean the Master-slaying Astrologer Flueger, then yes, I've heard of him."

Part 4

The confrontation in the lobby lasted for only a matter of seconds.

"My apologies. This isn't the place for bringing up personal feelings."

The young man apologized and withdrew.

(-Heh! Looks like Mr. Knight isn't just a big-headed oaf!)

The voice near my right hand spoke.

Flue, with a strained laugh, waved off the apology.

"I'm sorry, Rosalind. Did I scare you?"

"N-no..."

The young girl bravely shook her head. Of course, it was easy to see the bluff mixed into her expression, but as if to avoid pointing it out, Heine just stroked her hair. He seemed like a good older brother. What that meant in the world of magi wasn't clear. I did get the feeling that the two of them had met more than just hostility for it, though.

"So it seems like you were also invited here." Heine pointed his question toward my master.

"Yes, a bit of a social obligation. I keep myself pretty far detached from the families my predecessor kept ties with, but the lord of this castle is one of the few exceptions."

"So it is about that, after all."

"Yes," my master nodded.

"A month ago, Geryon Ashbourne, the master of the Castle of Separation Adra, passed away."

"..."

I felt a shiver run up my spine.

Reminded of the collection of angels that we had yet seen only a small portion of, that tenacious stickiness from before began to soak into the back of my skull again. The thought that the one who had collected them was now dead gave it an even stronger likeness to a garden of Hades, overflowing with a beautiful yet sinister air that didn't feel like it belonged in the real world.

"You okay?"

"...Yes," I barely managed to nod. "I...hadn't known that."

"I see."

With a coldness as if he had lost interest, my master pulled out an envelope from a pocket inside his jacket. It was the same invitation Flue had showed us earlier.

"It reached us in the mail a week ago."

"Yes, that sounds about right," Heine nodded.

"Then, it also spoke of the inheritance?"

"Yes," Heine nodded again.

"I heard the Last Will detailing the inheritance of the Castle of Separation was made public. Ashbourne didn't have any blood relatives, so all Houses with a connection to him were invited. It seems rather odd that the number of magi who gathered is so small."

"It seems he was pretty fond of old magi, wasn't he?"

With a bored look, my master shook his head.

"He just had to turn even his own death into another game."

"...Oh? Does that displease the brand-new lord?"

The voice this time came from deeper within the lobby. Besides the spiral staircase Heine and Rosalind had been standing near, another spiral staircase stood in the lobby. From this second staircase, a new presence approached us.

The sound of metal rubbing on metal filled the room. It took some time to realize that it was the sound of a wheelchair.

"Mister Orlocke."

A nervousness that was very unlike him crossed my master's face. A white-haired old man sat in the wheelchair. Behind him a young boy pushed the wheelchair for him, but otherwise avoided making eye contact with others in the room.

With his deep, layered wrinkles, he gave off less the impression of a magus and more that of a mummy. At the very least, any estimate of his age would easily pass the 80s. On each of his ten withered, wood-like fingers, were ten unique rings. The resplendence of the ten rings made the age of his withered body even more apparent.

He was something that looked too at home in this Castle of Separation. As if despite being a person, he was one step away from becoming something else-

"...who is this?"

"Orlocke Caesarmunde. He is the leading authority on Papilio MagiaButterfly Magic. Sometimes he speaks at meetings within the Clock Tower."

"Heh, heheheheheh"

Before I could ask for further explanation, the person in question gave a deep laugh. Though more than a laugh, it sounded like he was just squeezing the air from his lungs. It gave the impression of wind blowing threw a dried-out cave.

Papilio Magia, my master had called it.

According to my master, it was a magecraft that attempted to harness the Mystery behind a caterpillar turning into a butterfly - by creating a chrysalis, completely dissolving the body, and reconstructing it into something new.

In contrast to the beautiful name of the magecraft, its user gave off only a sinister feeling. His presence was like a black mud, dripping over the stone floor.

"Lord El-Melloi II," the old man whispered. "Lord El-Melloi II, Lord El-Melloi II, Lord El-Melloi II? Even as a joke, to have one of the Fes be inducted as a Lord...how dare you even show your face? Let alone in my friend Geryon's castle, of all places."

Fes, my master's rank within the Clock Tower. The Fourth Order.

Laughing again, the old man began to stroke the leather of his wheelchair's armrests. It seemed like that was a habit of his, as the old armrests were clearly discoloured where he was rubbing them.

My master didn't say a word in response. From the start, he was well aware of how unskilled he was. Even so, having it pointed out by others would no doubt create an ill feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Putting a hand to his chest, he instead gave a small bow.

"I am fully aware of my lack of experience. Even if I only have this name temporarily, I would request your forgiveness, Sir Orlocke."

"...hmph. A Lord shouldn't lower his head so easily. You disgrace the history of your position." Lifting his fingers from the armrests, he pointed this out with a bored sounding voice.

Then,

"I guess I should at least introduce him."

With his gaze, he gestured behind himself.

"-Wow! What beauties!"

Saying so while looking at Rosalind and myself, a young man wearing strange-looking clothes appeared. He looked to be a similar age to Heine, in his mid twenties, and he wore an eyepatch over his right eye. What was strange though was not his eyepatch. More so was the small box fastened to his head, his pure-white hemp robes, and the conch hanging from his neck. Later, I was told that these were the robes of the Shugendou sect, a religion native to the Far East.

"Yamabushi, Tokitou Jiroubou Seigen, at your service!"

With thickly accented English, he introduced himself.

Despite the fact that his clothes looked very strange for the country he was now in, he seemed to fit in in this place. Maybe it was because this was a place where magi belonged.

"That headdress is called a Tokin, right? If I remember correctly, its similar to the Teffilin of Jewish faith."

"Heh, aren't you well-learned? Maybe it's more popular than the magecraft from the continent, but even in Japan these are pretty uncommon," he said whistling in admiration. Even so, his gaze and posture were still directed towards Rosalind and myself.

"So, how'd you like to grab some tea? The butler says they've got the best of teas prepared for us."

"..."

Bending over and rubbing his hands together he made this invitation, but even so Rosalind silently clung to Heine's back, giving off even more the impression of a French doll.

...even I, for more than one reason, slipped behind my master and used him as a shield. At times like this, I was a little grateful that he was so tall.

My master frowned slightly.

"Yamabushi are priests, bodies dedicated to the gods, right? On top of that, Shugendou treats women as unclean, doesn't it?"

"Haha. My faith and my hobbies are different, yeah? Plus, it would be one thing if I was on the big mountain, but in a foreign country there's no need to hold myself back. So, how about we get a bit more familiar, ladies?"

"...umm, actually..."

As I shyly withdrew even further,

"I'm afraid we'll have to refuse. As you can see, you've upset my little sister considerably."

Heine cut into the conversation. His voice overflowed with an obstinant determination, as if saying he wouldn't let anyone bring harm to his sister.

"Mm, careful bro. If you keep your guard too tight, the little lady will hate you too, y'know?"

"Sorry, but there is no way Rosalind could ever come to dislike me."

"Whaa, that's some serious self-confidence!"

Hurriedly backing away, Seigen threw a hand behind his back. Suddenly, something jumped out from his hand. Following an impossible arc, it moved into Heine's blindspot and attacked him from behind. It moved without a sound, and yet with a ferocity that could challenge a wild beast.

"Heine!"

At Rosalind's scream, Heine raised a hand.

"-was that the Shugendou technique, HihatsuhouFlying Bowl?"

Heine spoke while maintaining an expressionless face. Aside from the red dripping from his hand, he was also now holding a small metal disc about the size of his palm.

"Haha, you're keen! It's a technique that Taichou was pretty skilled at. Not quite as famous as En no Ozuno though. It was a trick he'd use during his Begging."

I'd heard of this monk's "begging" as well. It was a practice that monks would do to gain offerings of money and food from other believers. In that case, that made that disc a charm belonging to Tokitou Jiroubou Seigen. Which would mean Hihatsuhou would be the supernatural power that allowed him to move that disc freely.

"Yes, you've shown me something nice."

Heine nodded at the Yamabushi, who was scratching his head while he laughed.

"Relax, relax. I was just playing around a bit."

"If we're just playing, then I definitely need to give you a response."

Heine touched a finger to the precious stone in his necktie pin.

"Convert."

He whispered while tapping the floor with the toes of one of his boots.

In an instant, countless blades rose from the stone floor. It wasn't that the blades were piercing through the floor, but instead that the floor itself was turning into blades. Like a wave passing out from where Heine's foot tapped the floor, the carpet of blades reoriented themselves and began pursuing Seigen.

"Whoa!"

Seigen jumped. As if ignoring gravity itself, his body soared unnaturally a few meters into the air.

My master told me this later, but apparently this was an example of a fairly well known Shugendou technique, a magecraft passed down in En no Ozuno's teachings, known as Raven Flight or Tengu Flight. If taken to the extreme, it could be said to be one step short of True Magic, an ability close to spacial teleportation. Using this, Seigen casually floated up to and landed on the chandelier.

"Bwahahaha, how's that?!"

The Yamabushi crossed his arms with a triumphant air, but Heine just pointed a finger at his chest.

"There it is. I don't have any belief in your god, but you showed me something nice, so it's the least I can do."

"Huh?"

Hurriedly lowering his gaze, stone blades fluttered around Seigen's folded arms.

The stone blades broke into fragments. No, they were flower petals. The countless stone blades become a hundred times as many stone flower petals, now decorating the Lobby. The spectacle, which would have left anyone dazzled, lasted for only a few seconds. In the next instant, placed on top of Seigen's folded arms, was the disc he had thrown earlier.

On top of the disc were a stone rose, and a ten pound note.

"Well, look at that."

"Oh?"

Orlocke and Flue both looked down at their hands. On both the old magician's armrest and at Flue's fingertips were beautiful stone roses.

"...ah."

On my master's jacket and my cloak as well, a stone rose was also fastened.

Rather than magecraft, it seemed more like a first-rate magician's trick. The delicate, glassy smooth stone rose looked as if touching it might bring it to life. The contradiction of something seeming alive while not brought back strong memories.

(...)

Something more dead than a dead body.
Something more alive than a living person.

In my home town, it was a sight that I saw time and time again. Things that were absurdly, irrationally, neither alive nor dead.

-"That is the thing you must destroy. That. That. That alone."

Remembering the smell of stone and earth from another place, a sour feeling of rejection and revulsion filled my mouth. I was seized by a stiffness that reached down to my fingertips, and a feeling like being drunk assailed my mind. These memories have nothing to do with this place. Like a spell, I recited these words to myself over and over in my head.

"So, this is the alchemy of the Istari family?" my master whispered, taking one of the stone roses in his fingers, as I began taking deep breaths.

"Alchemy...from the Atlas Institute, right?"

In the world of magi, I had heard that if you were speaking about alchemy, you were speaking about the Atlas Institute. One of the three major organizations of magi outside the Clock Tower, it was an organization separate from the outside world that was known as something like a "living hell." Honestly, I didn't really know what that meant, but,

"It's a different lineage of alchemy than that of the Atlas Institute. Unlike them, the alchemy adopted by the Clock Tower was developed after the initial influx of alchemy in the West during the Middle Ages. The Istari's trademark 'Living Stone' has been compared to a poor knock-off of arms used by Heroic Spirits, but it seems to actually be a considerable talent."

My master's eyes narrowed to a barely noticeable degree.

When speaking of talent, he would often do so with unmasked cynicism. It was definitely something unreachable. Yet, as if he was speaking of the stars in the sky, his feverish zeal would sometimes poke through.

Following that,

"-whoa!"

Seigen cleanly slipped off of the chandelier.

With a considerable sound, he crashed into the floor. Luckily, the stone blades had already vanished, so he suffered little more than the physical blow.

"...o-oww......"

Rubbing his behind with a moan, he raised a troubled hand.

"I give, I give! If we test each other like this, I don't have a chance." His facetious expression held no resentment.

With a gentle laugh, Heine offered him a hand.

"Rosalind is off-limits, but if its okay with you, I would be more than happy to take you up on your offer for tea."

"I'm not particularly interested in guys, though. Ah well, a pretty boy like you will be fine I suppose."

With a laugh, Seigen took the proffered hand.

Both of their voices had a peaceful tone to them, which was unexpected for me. It seemed they had developed a kind of friendship from their short fight. Well, I had never fought against an opponent with which I had an affinity for before, so maybe it was a given that I wouldn't expect it.

(-Oi! Gray!)

Suddenly, the voice at my right hand spoke out. It was with a quietness that only I could have heard it, but it was filled with urgency.

I turned to face the direction we had come from, the entrance to the lobby.

"It seems like I'm the last to arrive."

With a manservant in close behind, a new, elegant-sounding voice called out.

Her bright blue dress was reminiscent of the colour of the sky. A ribbon of the same colour kept her golden-blonde hair in ringlets, and in her hand was an ivory-handled parasol. The specific details of the parasol couldn't be discerned from this distance, but just from a glance it looked like that parasol alone could probably pay for a car or two.

More than that, she had a beauty that seemed as if nature itself had poured its soul into creating it.

Seigen could be heard gasping in amazement. No, this time it wasn't just Seigen. Leaving aside the likes of Heine and Flue, even Rosalind and I couldn't help but be taken by the girl's striking figure.

She couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 years old, but she had still captured the eyes of the entire room.

"...so you did end up coming. Did the smell of dazzling treasures lure you inside?" the old man in the wheelchair spat out with an annoyed voice.

As if taking complaint with his words,

"Is that a problem, you old bag?" she countered with a flourish.

Her approaching figure carried itself as if she was already lord of this place.

From the old man's throat, a laughter that sounded like lava boiling up from hell resounded.

"...oh ho, the problem is with your filthy blood, Luviagelita Edelfelt."

"You honour me."

The girl in the blue dress - Luviagelita, responded to those words with a smile.

Chapter 2

Part 1

We were in a lot of trouble.

There was nothing we could do, no rescue in sight. We were hopelessly in trouble.

"W-w-w-w-w-why are you people in my room?!"

Because, with her usually porcelain-white cheeks dyed a deep crimson, none other than Luviagelita Edelfelt stood before us.

To make things worse, my master had gone completely stiff while standing in the open, heavy copper doors. If it was possible, he surely would have wanted to just close the door and leave it at that, but with his arms as weak as his, that wasn't possible. Perhaps more importantly, his opponent's attitude didn't seem like one that would allow him to just run away either.

Perhaps she had been just about to go to bed, as she had changed into white negligee. Of course, it was also made of the finest silks, and its price would no doubt send eyes popping, but either way, it looked cute. Even with its bordering-obscene number of frills, the design in no way harmed the image of her slender figure.

...also, it may have just been my imagination, but it seemed as if the instant the door had opened, Luvia had hurriedly hidden some sort of dog plush behind a nearby pillow.

If I recalled correctly, it was a character from a kids' TV show that liked cooking, but when push came to shove, would become a knight in shining armour to protect his princess. It was truly a thing meant to make little girls' dreams come true. It was something I had seen on the TVs placed in the dorm after I came to London. Of course, I definitely didn't think in that moment that I wanted one of my own. And I most definitely did not leave space in my schedule every week specifically to watch it on TV either.

"Why are you here?! If you have an excuse, spit it out already!"

Her determination to keep her stuffed animal hidden was enough to bring one to tears...or rather, it was enough to bring her to tears. If she had just let it slide then my master probably wouldn't have even noticed, but it seemed like in doing so she might lose something even more important.

(...what should I do?)

My thoughts raced furiously. It was the first time I had thought this hard over something since I came to London. The girl before us now was too different from the one we met in the lobby. She seemed like a completely different person.

Who exactly was it that had been arguing against that monster-like old magus just a few hours earlier?

"...err, please, uh, wait a second..."

Rubbing his forehead as if he had a headache, my master spoke up.

"Oh, I'll wait. Indeed, let's wait, Lord El-Melloi II! To think there was a Lord who would barge in uninvited to a maiden's personal chambers! You are a disgrace to the entire Clock Tower!"

A terrifying magical power began to well up in the area around Luvia.

(...oh, that's bad...)

My instincts went off.

Even if this was a completely different person, that magic was the real thing. Most likely it was at a level my master wouldn't be able to resist. I understood the fact he was so second-rate he couldn't be considered even at the level of a dropout. If he was struck by real, first-class magecraft, there was no guarantee there would even be cinders left of him.

"I'm saying, it's not like that! I just went to the room bearing my Angelic Name like I was told!"

Pulling out his envelope, he desperately cried out. On the front of that envelope, the word 'Mihael' had appeared. Like the Castle of Separation itself, those faint, indistinct letters seemed somehow...unreliable.

"...I see."

Luvia carefully examined the envelope my master was holding.

"But the Angelic Name for this room is 'Michael,' is it not?"

"What?"

My master once again inspected the plate near the door. As Luvia had mentioned, the word 'Michael' was inscribed on it - the C was certainly there. By the way, the one who had pointed out this particular room was myself.

"...that certainly seems to be the case."

"S-sorry. It looks like I...made a mistake."

I'm sorry, master. It looks like your life ends here. If at all possible, please don't hold it against me.

"Of course, that means you're prepared for the consequences, correct?"

The pressure around her arm continued to grow. Even the air around it began to spiral around it, at ever increasing speeds. As that pressure was on the verge of being released, my master shouted.

"W-wait! This is a Shemhamphorae!"

"...?"

Hesitating for an instant, Luvia nodded.

"I see. I couldn't tell from just looking at my Angelic Name, but it was something like this after all. So the magecraft behind the Castle of Separation uses Kabbalah as its foundation."

(...shem ham foray?)

It seems they had come to some sort of understanding, but I had absolutely no idea what they were talking about.

Kabbalah of course was one of the more famous lineages of magecraft. Founded upon Judaism, it didn't necessarily denote the use of Mysteries as in magecraft, but when magi spoke of it they mostly spoke of the portion of it relating to magecraft. I had also heard that the Orders of the Clock Tower were fundamentally based on it.

However, whatever 'shem ham foray' meant, and how they had reached that conclusion from this conversation, was still a mystery to me.

"I know it doesn't really count as an apology, but is that enough information to let me escape for now?"

"..."

After thinking over what my master had said for a short period, Luvia opened her mouth.

"...I guess that's barely a passing grade."

"Barely passing is passing enough for me. Though I thought at this age I was done being graded."

Pulling out a handkerchief, my master wiped away his cold sweat while he spoke. Somewhat awkwardly, as if he was a marionette being controlled, he stepped out of the room. After taking a single step, Luvia extended a single finger.

"CallAwaken."

I saw a light.

No, I only thought I saw it.

In the next instant, immediately beside the sleeve of my master's jacket, a deep black hole opened up in the air. The effect of the accumulated curses had an effect similar to a heat ray.

"You understand, right? If an outrage like this happens again, assume that same curse will be roasting your heart," Luvia said with a sweet smile.

Without a word, she slammed the door shut.

It seemed somehow that as far as brute strength, even this girl was one-up on my master. I was conflicted as to whether that meant I should praise her, or admonish my master.

Anyways, as the two of us were now alone in the hallway, my master spun to face me.

"What's wrong, Gray?"

"...uh, I...just have a lot on my mind at the moment."

"Friction between magi is an everyday occurrence. You can't afford to get hung up on it every time it happens."

I felt like what just transpired had a bit of a different nuance than a spat between magi, but I decided not to bring it up. I didn't think he really understood what had happened either.

"Anyways, add that to your notes. On the rough map of the Castle, we can add Edelfelt's Angelic Name."

"Ah...right."

Luckily for me, even if I wasn't all that smart, I wasn't so bad at getting a grasp of the terrain. Using the notebook my master had given me, I recorded the information as instructed. When I started to fumble around for the correct spelling of 'shem ham foray,'

"-It's Shemamphorae."

My master said as he pointed a finger at the space I was writing. After doing so, his eyes narrowed slightly.

"Let's take this chance to organize the information that we have."

Whatever he was thinking, that was what he said. Speaking up once again, he began to recount the events that had happened a few hours earlier in the lobby.

******

-Time is wound backwards.

"...oh ho, the problem is with your filthy blood, Luviagelita Edelfelt."

"You honour me."

Orlocke and Luvia shared a smile.

In this case, those smiles resembled the tossing of a glove symbolizing a knight's duel. Without the slightest blemish or imperfection, it was done specifically to definitively hurt only their opponent's pride.

"..."

To be honest, my head felt a lot like a punctured tire. As I mentioned before, in the last two months, the number of people I had spoken to could be counted on my fingers. Suddenly being thrust into a situation where everyone was so strongly individual, it was kind of expected that it made my brain want to scream.

Flue.

Heine Istari.

Orlocke Caesarmund.

Seigen Tokitou Jiroubou.

All of them were magi with a character that would be hard to forget, but the girl who had just appeared seemed somehow even more striking.

"Luviagelita Edelfelt. It seems another extraordinary person has shown up," my master said with a moan.

"Do you know her?"

"She's from a large family of gem-magic users who have taken up residence in Finland. I heard the previous master had retired early and his daughter was showing up here and there...I see this is what they were talking about."

"Oh ho, even our unexperienced Lord knows her."

The old magus in the wheelchair gave a happy laugh at having heard my master's words.

"Of course. Known as the most elegant hyenas on Earth. They came into power in the Renaissance Era, and earned that nickname for their shamelessly intervening in conflicts unrelated to them around the world, picking and choosing the most prized examples of magecraft from the ruins for themselves."

That being said.

The girl in question only glanced sparingly at the magi that were attempting to gauge her.

Nodding to the number of servants that followed her, she stepped deeper into the lobby of the Castle of Separation on her own.

"Caesarmund, you old bag," she whispered.

Just the sound of her voice would surely drive an artist somewhere to trembling. Not just her looks, she was full of qualities a normal person would be hard-pressed to come across. Call it an aura, or the Holy Spirit. Those were the words countless critics had ascribed to art, attempting to name that quality that words can't describe.

And she was only 17 or 18 years old.

She was still the same age as a high school student, so why did she possess such a quality?

"I appreciate your assessment. If I may say so in respect to the Edelfelt Lineage, we are a family who won't be stopped by anyone or anything in the pursuit of the taste of good fruit. If I may be so bold, I would say that the word 'Hunter' has a more pleasant ring than hyena. Or even better, the French word Le Chasseur sounds nice, too."

Her words, the epitomy of arrogance, didn't infringe on her gentle air at all. Rather, she spoke with a dignity and gravity that compelled one to simply nod in agreement. Even I, who had no knowledge of either the Edelfelts or the great magi families in general, could feel my skin tingling from just listening.

Like, even if a common person couldn't even guess the true value, they could still feel the symbolic authority of a precious jewel.

"But if you've come all the way out here, is there some deficiency in your Magic Crest?"

"...Ha. What nonsense are you on about, corpse fisher?"

"Oh, you don't know?" the girl inclined her head to the side. "Of course, it wouldn't match someone like the Caesarmund family, but I had heard that especially old Magic Crests begin to mould, as it were. Indeed, it takes a great deal of time to cultivate a magus' lineage, but once you've passed a thousand years, it starts to become problematic, no? Even the highest grades of wine can only last a little over a hundred years, you know."

The girl's lips turned into a smile as she chuckled.

Even among this group of magi, each individually well outside the laws of common sense, Orlocke was a monster on a whole different level. And despite this, Luvia stood up to this authority of the Clock Tower without conceding a single step.

"No doubt, that's why you were relying on Geryuon Ashbourne, the Master of Restoration, no?"

A bizarre noise echoed throughout the lobby of the Castle.

Even Heine, who had displayed such brilliant magecraft earlier, raised an eyebrow revealing his sense of concern.

"...Master of Restoration?"

"That's the master of the Castle of Separation. Of course he was high ranking as a magus, but he also had a slightly different side."

Responding to me mindlessly repeating the words I was hearing, my master whispered this to me.

"Another side?"

"Yes. You've heard about Magic Crests, correct?"

Of course I had.

Magecraft is, in essence, Mystery. However, since the beginning of the Common Era, human history has been in the process of systematically expelling Mysteries. To the same degree the light of science expands, the darkness of Mystery recedes. No matter how magi resist this fact, this law remains unbent. The Mysteries of the Age of Gods have become so distant, that even realizing them temporarily in the current world is next to impossible.

Magic Crests are the magus' answer to the problem posed by the flow of time, a "fixated Mystery."

"Generally speaking, a Magic Crest is distilled over the course of hundreds of years, and is similar to a new organ. Because it functions like an organ, it can only adapt to those of the same bloodline, and the interference possible from outsiders is extremely limited. The old magi families are able to throw their weight around largely based on the authority derived from these Magic Crests."

My master's words fell into a pleasant rhythm, similar to his lectures at the Clock Tower. Even in this high tension situation, it seemed that quality of him remained unchanged.

"However, there are exceptions," he added. "And one of those exceptions is the lord of this castle. Ashbourne was known to be able to restore a damaged Magic Crest, and so he came to be known as the Master of Restoration. As expected, the Edelfelts know even that much of his history."

Saying this, my master turned to watch the confrontation between the two before us.

In an aggravated manner, the old magus was picking at his armrest with a finger, as if he was trying to pry off the old leather. He then raised his gaze.

"...then what about you? If you came all the way out here to meddle with Ashbourne's will, then is there not some problem with yours as well?"

"My, how rude! Do I look so skilless as to bring damage to my own Magic Crest?"

Raising the corners of her mouth, the girl picked up the skirt of her dress. As expected, it looked less like a curtsy and more like a knight's salute.

"However, to let such a valuable skill be lost would be nothing short of cruel. As such, I have come here to give it the lowest seat in my collection."

She spoke from the height of arrogance. She never said that the skill was necessary for her, just that it was precious, so it was perfectly normal for her to put it in her warehouse. With the innocence of a small child she made such an absurd statement.

It was no wonder her family had been given the name of the most elegant hyenas on Earth.

If things continued like this, it seemed likely the two would break out into a full on duel. At the very least, Luvia seemed to have that intention, and the old magus was giving no indication he would turn her down. Of course, even I knew such altercations between magi were anything but rare.

But.

The number of people who were invited - or rather, the number of people who were going to arrive - did not end with Luvia.

"Oh?"

The first one to turn and look was Flue. Through the lobby, up on the second floor, pale fingers resting on the handrails made of English Oak, a woman looked down on the rest of us.

She was wearing glasses. Her hair, much longer than Luvia's, was black as midnight, and stretched down to her ankles. Decorating the woman's figure was a strange looking, long sleeved, vibrantly flower-patterned garment.

(...some sort of traditional clothing?)

"Yuzen sleeves, was it?" my master muttered, putting a hand on his chin.

It was a word that sounded as if it came from the Orient. As I learned later, apparently it was something that came from the same Japan that Seigen Tokitou Jiroubou came from. 'It seems my fate is completely tied up with that country,' my master complained later.

"I apologize for making you all wait."

The woman spoke as she pushed her glasses back into place. The butler who had been tending the front entrance of the keep now also stood by the woman's side.

"I am the designated executor of Geryuon Ashbourne's will, from the Faculty of Law of the Clock Tower. My name is Hishiri Adashino."

Once again, the magi in the lobby snapped to attention.

The words "Faculty of Law" had that much meaning to them. I could even feel my master's presence become coloured by a uncharacteristic nervousness.

Looking down at them, Hishiri pulled out a single letter.

It looked very similar to the invitations given to my master and the others, but beside the seal of the Ashbourne family, the seal of the Clock Tower's Faculty of Law was also present.

"Well then," the woman spoke.

"Let us make public the will of Mr. Geryuon Ashbourne."

Within the Clock Tower, there are twelve Faculties. Twelve abysses overseen by twelve Lords.

The majority of magi began their study of magic within the Faculty of General Fundamentals - a Faculty which dealt with the common ground between lineages of magecraft and basic study of the Earth's Pulse and Mana. From there, they would continue into the study of Individual Fundamentals, Spiritual Evocation, Mineralogy, Zoology, Anthropology, Botany, Astrology, Creation, Curses, Archaeology, or Modern Magecraft Theory. The forms and tendencies of these different Faculties all varied wildly, but fundamentally they all still pursued the study of Mysteries. According to my master, magi were living things that existed to seek after the "Spiral of Origin," so this structure was a natural result.

But.

Within the Clock Tower, there was one Faculty that didn't have any direct relation to the study of Mysteries. They were a group who used the Clock Tower's magecraft and authority to intervene in common society, or for the internal regulation of the Clock Tower itself. They were truly an indispensable group.

The Faculty of Law.

They weren't those who studied law and politics - they were a Faculty of governance. Ignoring the calling of all magi to pursue the "Spiral of Origin," they were a heretical faction that sought only to develop the stability of the Clock Tower itself.

My master liked to say they were like the shadow within the sun, or the sun within the shadow, as necessitated by the concept of the Ying Yang.

I had never seen a magus from the Faculty of Law, but now there was one staring down at us from the second floor of the lobby.

"...anyhow, if the Faculty of Law is involved, that makes any division made here absolute," my master whispered softly.

After all, that was exactly the purpose of the Faculty of Law. If Geryuon Ashbourne, who had passed away a month ago, had named them to execute his will, that made his will absolute.

To say nothing of the woman herself. Just to look at her made all your blood try to rush backwards. Unlike the dripping sinister aura of Orlocke Caesarmund, or the ferocious beauty of Luviagelita Edelfelt, she had a smile that overflowed with a kindness and coldness that seemed to suck you in. She gave off an illusion like she was gently stroking your spine from the inside.

(...she's a snake.)

I intuitively thought that.

To look at her coldness and lustre, it seemed like one was looking at a reptile. Her strange looking, long-sleeved kimono added to the impression of a snake shedding its skin.

"...oh man, the Faculty of Law of all people..."

"...It would be those apostates..."

Flue and Orlocke both muttered to themselves.

While at first these two might have seemed like a rare pair to agree with each other, the "Heretics of the Clock Tower" known as the Faculty of Law seemed to have already lined up a fair number of enemies for themselves.

In comparison, Hishiri Adashino gave no indication of paying them any mind, and instead opened the envelope in her hands.

"Within the will are only three statements."

Continuing, she read those three statements.

"'Ask for the Angel's names.'"

Her tone faintly changed.

The memory of the previous Lord of the Castle of Separation Adra, Geryuon Ashbourne, was in this moment reawakened. I had never met him before, and had no way of knowing whether she had met him either, but even so the image of an old man nervously raising the upper half of his body from bed still arose before my eyes.

"'Those who are asked and unable to answer shall, in all cases, be torn apart by Angels.'"

The words continued.

The sound of scratching began to permeate the lobby. Scratch scratch, scratch scratch, scratch scratch, the noise continued. It was as if the old master's words were a spell, awakening the Angels he had gathered into this castle. The illusion of invisible Angels gathering like bubbles on the floor, walls, and even the ceiling wouldn't go away.

"'Those who can take hold of the Angels will be granted my inheritance.'"

With that, her voice stopped.

"...is that it?" Flue asked.

Stroking his stubbled chin with a filthy hand, he asked the kimono-clad Hishiri Adashino.

"Yes. No particular time limit has been established."

With a nod, Hishiri closed the letter.

Combined with her garb, it was a scene reminiscent of a Far Eastern poem. I had the feeling I had read somewhere about the custom of writing a love letter as a poem and sending it, but I didn't know if that was a custom which matched the nationality of her garb.

"In addition, one hint has been given to each of you. Please take a look at your invitations."

My master lifted up the invitation we had received. In a space that was blank only moments earlier, gold lettering had appeared. It seemed a similar phenomenon was occuring with the invitations of the others present, which he confirmed covertly.

"That will be each of your 'Angelic Names,'" she whispered.

"I see. The lettering surfaced in response to the natural wavelength of the magical energy in the area. Simple, but very effective," my master said with admiration.

It seems his curiosity had been provoked. At times like this, his expression was like that of a cat's with its favourite toy, but it was unclear whether he was aware of it or not. Tracing the letters on the envelope, he narrowed his eyes slightly.

"'Angelic Name,' huh? Is that something like a Magical MottoMagic Name?"

Some groups of magi would claim names to differentiate themselves from the common names of their ancestry. It seemed that in it was a matter of simplicity, making a personalized name that could then be associated to the specific magecraft they studied. It wasn't always specifically a name to refer to themselves either, sometimes being a claim of their beliefs or a favourite motto.

It seemed these kinds of names were generally referred to as Magical Mottos. However, being that most magi lineages associated with the Clock Tower had long since decided to give themselves up to the pursuit of magecraft, it seemed there weren't any common examples of it happening recently.

"There has been a room prepared for each of you which matches with your Angelic Name. A plate bearing the name has been affixed to each room, so please confirm the correct room yourselves. Also, it seems that the Ashbourne family's personal servants shall be preparing meals and so forth for you for the duration of your stay."

The butler from before gave a bow.

It seemed some of Mr. Geryuon's servants had stayed behind after his death. I didn't know whether they simply had that kind of loyalty, or they still had contractual obligations to upold, but the thought of them remaining here after their master's death sent chills down my spine.

"Until the successor has been decided, I also plan on staying within the castle. I look forward to working with you."

*****

-And so, time returns to the present.

Within our room.

The faint light of a candle lit the room that, as expected, was filled exhaustively with angels. From the paintings on the walls to the engravings on the closets, to the dolls on the shelves and the glass covers on the lamps, angels were everywhere. It seems that the late Geryuon Ashbourne's obsession with angels was quite thorough.

I was sitting on the bed. After walking around the castle for a few hours, and the incident with Luvia earlier, we finally managed to find the correct room - engraved with the Angelic Name Mihael - and were able to catch our breath.

"'The one who takes hold of my angels will become my successor,' huh?"

My master muttered while sitting on the sofa. Taking off his coat and jacket, he began to massage his exhausted legs. While doing so, he pulled a cigar from his cigar case and put it in his mouth. The smell of the smoke quickly permeated the room, saturating the valuable-looking furniture. It was probably something I should have gotten upset about, but I decided not to mention anything.

Because by smelling that scent, I felt like I was back in my master's apartment like always.

Being careful to hide my inner thoughts, I took a deep breath and slapped my cheeks. At the sound, my master turned to look at me, so I spoke.

"...Master, do you understand the meaning of those words?"

"Well, it doesn't seem to me that there are too many candidates. After all, this place is literally overflowing with angels."

He was one hundred percent correct. The lobby, this room, the hallways and staircases...angels were lined up everywhere to the point it was claustrophobic. If you wanted to count them seriously, just the amount we saw would easily exceed a hundred. If you wanted to consider how many were in the entire castle, I wouldn't even be able to imagine it.

"Even if that isn't the case, as a general theme the history and types of angels in this castle is too wide. If you collect this many symbols in one place, the focus will begin to blur. For example, how do we tell where the angels related to magecraft end, and those that are here just out of his collecting hobby begin?"

"Ihihihihi! Once you have to leave behind your stockpile of book smarts, your incompetence really starts to show through doesn't it!"

From around my right hand, a voice called out. This time, however, my master wasn't going to let it slide.

"Gray, could you please bring out Add for me?"

"Certainly."

At that, the third voice suddenly began to panic.

"W-wait, Gray! You're not planning on selling me out, are you?"

Ignoring the complaints I flicked my hand, unfastening a hook within my cloak, causing a long, thin cage to fall to the ground. Inside that cage was a shape made up of numerous small cuboids. It looked similar to the Rubik's Cubes I had seen since coming to London, but on top of being much more finely detailed and much more complex, it also had an engraving of eyes and a mouth on the front surface.

Those eyes rolled as if they were looking at me.

"Y-you! Even if it's just temporary, I've been your friend for 10 years now! You don't have any other friends, so you should protect me a bit, or at least hesitate! I deserve at least that much sympathy, don't I?! Wait, it's not too late! Please reconsider! Put me away! Hide me! HIDE ME!!"

The mouth spouted off busily.

This was the true nature of the third voice that was always interrupting us.

-Add.

A kind of Mystic Code I received when I was still in my home village. I hadn't seen that many Mystic Codes, but it still seemed to me that one that talked was pretty outside the norm.

Rather than being alive, it was more like the 3D Animation I learned about after coming to London. For me, he had been there since the day I was born - it hurt to admit it, but he really was my first friend - so I didn't realize the strangeness of it at all. However, when my master first saw him, he was incredibly surprised, to the point seemed likely to try and take him apart.

Now, it was like this.

Grabbing the front face of the cage, he put all his strength into shaking it up and down like a cocktail shaker.

"Agyagyagyagyagyagyagyagya!"

Add let out a scream. Knocking the box inside the cage all over the place, when he finally decided he had punished him enough, my master tossed the cage back to me.

"Good. Anyways, the two of us should work together to investigate the castle and plug the holes in our understanding."

"...Um, me too?"

"If you don't come, who'll be my body guard? And just to be clear, if we get into a fight between us and the other magi, the only one that'll die will be me."

Puffing out his chest, he attempted to show off how powerless he was. Of course, his claim lined up perfectly with my previous assessments, but I wished he would try to hide it a bit more.

Maybe that feeling was showing on my face, because...

"I'll leave the pretentious, false shows of force to my younger self, thank you," my master said.

-his younger self.

What did he mean by that, exactly? I didn't really have a good grasp of the concept of 'youth,' but I wondered if my master had had a time like that. Looking at my master as he was now, puffing out cigar smoke, I couldn't imagine anything except him being born the way he was now. It was even a little vexing.

Maybe it was because of that, but I suddenly felt a desire to ask him about something.

"Why do you want the inheritence of the Castle of Separation, master? I heard you had quite a debt to the El-Melloi family, so is it just to repay that?"

"Aren't we feeling straightforward today?"

With a wry smile, my master raised an eyebrow. Touching a finger to his now short cigar, he narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Of course, I do want to repay the debt. But if the rumors that the inheritance of this place has something to do with Magic Crests, then Reines and I have a much more important stake in this fight."

"Miss Reines too?"

I hadn't expected his step-sister's name to come up in a place like this, so I spoke a little louder than I had intended. But, when I thought about it, it was thanks to Reines' request that my master was here in the first place. After meeting all the other magi and learning about the inheritance, I had completely forgotten, so when the topic suddenly shifted back I was caught off guard.

"In short, it's the reason I was granted the El-Melloi name," he said, placing his cigar in the ash tray. The thin cigar, its purpose now fulfilled, gave off a small trail of smoke that quickly vanished. In the same way, it seemed that conversation had come to an end.

"-Well, let's get some sleep. Today was a little exhausting."

Rolling his shoulders, my master lay down on the sofa.

"Master?"

"You can go ahead and use the bed. It would be too much of a pain to go to the servant's quarters, and I prefer the sofa anyway."

Saying this, he closed his eyes without waiting for a reply. Without even so much as showering, he had done nothing to prepare for bed but take off his jacket. It was for things like this that Reines was always giving my master such murderous glares, but I raised my voice for a different reason.

"But, Master."

I said this, and then stopped.

He was already asleep.

Unexpectedly, it seemed his comment about the sofa being more comfortable wasn't a lie after all. It was quite common to see him sleeping on sofas in his apartment or laboratory. I had seen him enough times to get fed up with finding him asleep on the sofa with a game console in his hands.

But, now-

"..."

Keeping quiet, I looked down at his face. Maybe because he was always scowling, he had faint wrinkles between his eyebrows. They were this well-defined now, so in time they would surely become deep enough to seem like scars. Maybe that's what they mean when they say that getting older scars you.

Both visibly, and invisibly.

Stretching out my hand, I stopped it just before my fingers touched his cheek. There were only centimeters between us now, but I still couldn't touch him.

"Hihi! What's wrong, Gray? Did you fall in love just by looking at his sleeping face?"

"..."

I felt no need to respond.

Grabbing the cage firmly with one hand, I begin swinging it around as hard as I could.

"Hagyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"

After hearing his pitiful scream, I felt somehow refreshed.

"...thank you."

Saying this, I bowed my head in the direction of the sofa.

I dove into the bed and pulled up the blankets, which smelled faintly of cigar smoke. It was far from unpleasant.

It took only a few minutes before my mind drifted into the warm darkness of sleep.

Part 2

The following morning, I awoke shortly before my master.

After changing, I threw back the curtains and soaked in the morning sunlight. I didn't particularly like the sun, but in an environment like this, the symbols of ordinary, everyday life were few enough as it was. After taking a deep breath, I retrieved Add from the top of the dresser.

Spinning around, I drew the cage to my right sleeve. Roughly halfway down my cloak, I fixed it in place between my shoulder and my elbow. Looking from the outside, though, it would be practically invisible. My master seemed impressed, mentioning it was something like a Derringer, but I didn't really understand what he meant.

Turning around, I steadied my breathing a bit before speaking.

"...Master, are you awake yet?"

An incomprehensible moan responded to my question.

"...I'll get your change of clothes ready."

This, too, was our normal morning exchange. Though saying that, we didn't often sleep in the same place, so it was still a little awkward.

Placing the clothes I took from his suitcase near his blindly groping hand, he began changing, eyes still closed, and still lying on the sofa. He was probably still asleep. Trying not to worry too much about it, I turned to making other preparations. His cigars were the only things he was willing to take care of by himself, so at this point my job came down to bringing him things like handkerchiefs, and other small things. 'What is he, an elementary school kid?' was what Add liked to say. Honestly, I agreed with him.

Just as things were almost ready, he finally spoke.

"Good morning, my Lady."

With that, it seemed he was finally awake. Sleepily he raised his upper body from the sofa, rubbing his eyes.

"...your collar is twisted."

After fixing his collar and brushing his long hair, we left the room.

The guest room that we had been given was one of the central rooms on the second floor of the castle. The construction of the interior of the castle wasn't all that complex, but from the size of the rooms to the width of the hallways, it muddled my grasp of the castle's interior. Either way, the walls were lined with the usual frescos and sculptures of angels. Since coming to the castle, thanks to what my master spoke of as the gestalt collapse of the concept of Angels, I was perpetually subjected to the illusion we were trapped in an infinite loop.

As we approached one of the larger rooms on the second floor, Add began to shake.

"Ooh, what is that fantastic smell?!"

Last I checked boxes didn't have noses, so how did he smell anything?

Regardless, he was right. A smell so good it set my stomache rumbling reached us. And it wasn't just a single smell either, but a whole orchestra of fragrances in perfect harmony.

The instant we opened the door, the source of that smell became obvious.

"Good morning, Lord El-Melloi II."

In the middle of the large room sat a large granite table, big enough to comfortably sit twenty people. Standing immediately beside it was Hishiri Adashino, and as she saw us enter she turned to greet us.

"I apologize I wasn't able to greet you more properly yesterday."

"Please, don't worry about it. Good morning, Miss Adashino," my master returned the greeting with an obvious show of anxiety, prompting Hishiri to smile broadly.

"You know I said you can just call me Hishiri."

How many men would gladly offer up their souls just for that smile, I wondered. Her mysterious, oriental appearance would no doubt stir up interest from people of both genders. Her ornate garb, like brilliantly coloured, layered origami, seemed to hide an even deeper feminine sweetness. Looking closer, it seemed the intricate designs of her kimono were hand-woven, stirring up even more anxious feelings in my chest. My master had said that Japan was a weird country, where they made houses out of wood and paper, but maybe it had mysteries even greater than those of magecraft. Like ninjas, for example.

"Sorry, but I'm a coward. I'm pretty weak around beautiful women."

"He says, standing beside the lovely follower he brought along," she said, turning her gaze to me.

I shrank back unconsciously, retreating deeper into my hood. Of course, for me it wasn't that I was bad with beautiful women. I was bad with anyone I didn't know.

"Don't tell me the reason you wear that hood even indoors is to hide your beautiful face?"

"Exactly. I don't want to see it."

Hishiri gave an awkward laugh, as if she had been taken off guard by the reply.

"Your really an interesting person. When we return to the Clock Tower, I'd love to talk to you more."

"Please forgive me, but if I started getting along with the Faculty of Law, I wouldn't be able to bear the shame."

"You wouldn't have anything to worry about, would you? With the New Egg'sthe New Generation behind you, you're like the Clock Tower's favourite child."

"That's just the Clock Tower trying to keep me out of their way. Otherwise, what possible reason would they have to leaving the Faculty of Modern Magecraft to me?"

My master cleared his throat.

My master's current standing in the Clock Tower was the product of a give-and-take exchange, in a lot of ways.

From there, we confirmed the table at which we would be seated. In front of Hishiri were a porcelain dish and a lacquered bowl, with a pair of chopsticks. On the dish was some kind of sauce-covered fish, and a bowl of plain white rice. In other words, a Japanese style breakfast.

"It seems our seat is over there," my master said, looking at the far end of the dinner table.

Before a set of napkins embroidered with the El-Melloi family crest, toast, boiled eggs, blood sausage and baked beans were arranged among the silverware. Basically, a traditional English breakfast.

This was the source of the scents we detected earlier.

Around the table were set up a large variety of meals, each individually tailored to the tastes and backgrounds of those invited here.

The decline of the public opinion of English Cuisine began at the end of the 19th century, when the middle class began employing all-purpose maids. These young girls were hired in from the country, with no regard to their cooking skill, resulting in the standards for cooking nationwide to drop significantly. It seemed the servants of the Ashbourne family were completely untouched by the trend, however.

"It seems they've done their research on us," my master grumbled as he walked to his place at the table.

Of course, there was no way they could know the tastes and backgrounds of their guests without doing so. It made me wonder how much Geryuon Ashbourne had known of us before he died. What had he been thinking when he sent those invitations, gave us those Angelic Names?

As I was mulling over those thoughts,

"Well, doesn't this look magnificent?"

"And they even have a vegetarian option! Even fried nameko tofu? I knew you could get Warabi around here, but Udo and bamboo shoots too?!"

One after another, the other guests arrived at the dining room.

"Yo Heine, let's have a drink!"

Pulling out a bottle of his own personal Japanese sake was none other than Seigen Tokitou Jiroubou. Despite the eccentric combination of the eye patch and the far eastern priestly robes, from only the second meeting it no longer seemed out of place.

Speaking of which, it seemed that Heine and Rosalind were getting along well with him, if he was coming to breakfast with them.

"I appreciate the offer, but drinking from so early in the morning..."

"Man, I like you. Come on, have at least one!"

"...well, I did promise."

With a faintly bitter smile, Heine took the glass. In one swift motion, he downed the entire glass in one gulp, setting the one-eyed Yamabushi's face sparkling.

"Wow, that mouth is really something! Now, for the little sister...I guess alcohol is a no go, huh? Excuse me, could you please get this girl some tea?" he called to one of the nearby servants.

"...thank you." The girl took the cup of tea with a small nod in thanks.

Seeing her scrunch her eyebrows after sipping the tea, Heine gave a gentle laugh.

"Maybe your a bit young for black tea yet."

"N-no! I can drink it!" she protested, gripping the teacup tightly.

"Alright alright, but why don't you at least add some milk? It's more ladylike to drink tea that way, after all."

"...really?"

Rosalind tilted her head to the side, giving off the impression of a small, white bird. For some reason, while doing that, she turned toward us.

"Lord El-Melloi II, is that true?"

"?!!"

Taking off guard by the sudden question, my master struck his chest. After narrowly avoiding choking, he cleared his throat, corrected his posture, and then nodded.

"Very true, my lady. It's just like your brother said. Milk tea is the drink of ladies and gentlemen, so you can add as much as you like."

"Okay! Thank you!" With a bright smile, she took the cup now with added milk. This time, she gave an honest expression of enjoying the drink.

Seeing that, I casually remarked.

"...you really like children, don't you, master?"

"...no comment," he said, avoiding my gaze.

Just a little, I could see his ears turning red. Without drawing attention to his embarrassment, I turned toward the entrance.

"Oh, if it isn't sake! And some pretty high grade stuff too!"

With nose wriggling, Flue entered the room.

"Back off! This is my treasure I brought all the way from Japan!"

"Don't be like that! Here, I'll tell your fortune, so give me some!"

As he removed the belt from around his waist, an air of surprise passed over the entire table. In that belt were lined up a dozen or so knives. The wooden grips were well worn from constant use, but the blades were polished to a frightening degree of brightness.

"I suppose his specialty is astrology," my master whispered, pointing out the astrological signs worked into the knives. Even I, who had barely studied anything at all, could recognize the twelve signs of the zodiac engraved on them.

"Exactly. Normally I charge a large sum of money over several months, but this time I'll give a special discount just for you. Try not to cry when you thank me!"

Flue handled the knives like cards. Rather than a juggler, he gave off the impression of a fortune teller spinning the Wheel of Fortune.

"Now, valued customer, please give us your name and birthday...well, as a magus, there's no way you'd tell me that, huh? Well then, let's leave everything up to the stars and the blades!"

Four of the knives sprang up. The knives span unnaturally in the air, almost as if their positions were mapping out a constellation, before they fell to the table. But before they could impact with the granite of the dinner table, they struck something else.

-A small disc.

The same discs that had attacked Heine the day before now acted to impede the action of Flue's knives. With a grimace, the one-eyed Yamabushi reluctantly held out the bottle of sake.

"Don't just tell people's fortune's without permission like that. If it's sake you want, then fine, take some."

"Heheh, thank you kindly."

Accepting the bottle with a gesture of thanks, he took it back to his seat and filled his glass. The milky white liquid didn't feel like it fit the wine glass, but the strong, mellow smell certainly excited the appetite. Flue happily downed the glass in one gulp, and after a satisfied sigh, poured himself another glass, earning him an unhappy look from Seigen.

"Hey! How much of that do you plan on drinking?"

"Don't be so stingy. You'll bald young you know."

"Balding has nothing to do with it! Whatever, just give it back!"

Seeing the silly conflict breaking out between the two of them,

"...how uncivilized."

An opinion was voiced from behind us.

Different from the bewitching voice that Hishiri had, this voice was one that held the sweetness and beauty of freshly blooming flowers. The first person to greet her was my master.

"Luviagelita Edelfelt."

"May I have the pleasure of sitting beside you?"

"...by all means."

Despite his obvious reluctance, he nodded. There was no denying, after all, the Edelfelt family crest embroidered on the napkins beside us.

Standing behind her was a man sporting a mohawk I hadn't seen before. He was close to two meters tall, with a shoulder breadth of almost half that. In contrast to the rather conspicuous hair style and sunglasses, he was bedecked in black formalwear from top to bottom. If he had had something like a machine gun, he would have looked like he had just jumped out of a mafia movie - he had that kind of intensity about him.

As if noticing my stare, Luvia introduced him.

"This is my man-servant, Clown. Unfortunately, I had to send the others home, so he is the only one attending me at present."

"Clown? That doesn't sound like a very fitting name."

"It wasn't a name he picked himself," Luvia replied with a flip of her hair.

...well, curling her hair like that would probably be too difficult if she was by herself. Though, I would have expected a magus of Luvia's caliber to be able to do something about that with her magecraft.

Following the introduction, my master turned his gaze to the entrance once more.

"It looks like Orlocke won't be joining us."

Orlocke Caesarmund and his young companion were the only ones who hadn't come to the breakfast table yet. A place at the table hadn't even been set for them. It seemed as if he had asked the servants of the Ashbourne family to bring his meal directly to his room.

Of course I didn't do well with him, but even my master's shoulders sagged a little in relief as he picked up his cutlery.

Partaking of the food myself, after taking my first bite I paused. Both the black sausage and the baked beans were cooked and seasoned to such perfection that I almost let out a moan of pure pleasure. Krishna was pretty skilled when it came to cooking, but the difference in the ingredients was just too much for skill to cover. The texture of the sausage combined with the spice of the pepper, and the mingling of the flavours of the baked beans and the potatoes they were garnishing, was a phenomenal experience. As if to bless the combination of the crispy, toasted bread and its faintly sweet butter, I unconsciously reached my hand out towards them. Even the water in the glass was carbonated, stimulating the appetite even further. Among such euphoria, a smile arose to even my master's face.

But, that time would not even last ten minutes.

As we were proceeding with a meal that would satisfy anyone,

"-may I have your attention, please?"

Luvia suddenly spoke out.

The gazes of everyone in the room were drawn to her. Even in this room, full of exceedingly competent magi, she had a magnetism that could not be ignored.

"I was honoured to receive a hint about our Angelic Names from Lord El-Melloi last night."

"!!!"

Giving my startled master an elegant smile, Luvia continued.

"He informed me that they are Shemhamphorae."

Around the room, a few people could be seen to be startled by the announcement, while the rest seemed to be nodding as if their suspicions had been confirmed.

Her gaze shifted again to my master, as if to say 'with that, we're even.'

As covertly as possible, I asked my master a question.

"...um, master...what is a shemhamphorae anyway?"

"..."

After asking the question that had been bothering me for so long, someone other than my master responded.

"...its from Kabbalah. It means something like a Gathering of Names." Stroking his unshaven face, the closely seated Flue answered in my master's stead.

"A gathering of names?"

"In short, the names of 72 angels. Originally it came from the Book of Exodus, the book of the Old Testament that described Moses parting the sea. From the 19th verse, for about three verses, the original Hebrew consisted of 72 letters. Taking one letter from each of the three verses at a time, they made abbreviations for the names of 72 angels. It's really nothing more than a play on words, but Kabbalah specialized in NotarikonWord Play and GematriaNumber Play in the first place, and the passage describes Moses' greatest miracle. It being used specially like this was kind of inevitable."

"...72 angels..."

It seemed even this much was common knowledge for a magus. After just hearing the word Shemhamphorae, they all understood this much.

"...the Archangel Michael is a very common name, that comes up in many traditions. But Mihael is much rarer. For those two to be part of the same set, there's no possibility other than the Shemhamphorae." My master added this in a whisper only I could hear.

"The angels mentioned in Ashbourne's inheritance are likely hidden somewhere around this castle. If our Angelic Names are Shemhamphorae, then the possibility of them being a hint of some sort is high. The angels of the Shemhamphorae are linked to the twelve signs of the zodiac, and also to the 72 Demons of the Lesser Key of Solomon. Also, being a product of Kabbalah, it can probably be assumed that some sort of code or riddle is also involved."

Seigen clicked his tongue. "So you've figured out that much already, huh?" he said, picking at his ear.

Had he actually come to the same conclusion? But before I could consider further, he continued.

"Well then, why don't we share all our Angelic Names?"

The tension in the room spiked.

As if ignoring that tension, Seigen casually played with the conch hanging in front of his chest with a friendly smile.

"We already have too few hints, am I right? If we just help each other out a bit, everything will move a lot smoother. Besides, our Angelic Names are just printed in front of our bedroom doors, so there isn't much point in hiding them is there?"

The silence that followed exemplified the conflict present in the room. Of course, Seigen was right. Everyone wanted information, and the Names were printed right on the doors - thanks to which, my master and I had got into a lot of trouble. It wasn't something anyone could expect to hide. However, the problem lay somewhere else.

It was the same with the information about the Shemhamphorae, but carelessly sharing information increased the chances that the inheritance would be taken out from in front of you. Of course, the chances of getting it yourself would also increase, but if you measured the benefits to the demerits, which way would the scales tip?

Currently, my master and I knew of two Angelic Names.

Lord El-Melloi II has Mihael.

Luviagelita Edelfelt has Michael.

So, the remaining magi were-

"-Sorry, but I will have to withdraw here."

"Ah, Heine!"

As Heine stood to leave, Rosalind followed him out.

"Well, I guess that's how it is."

"I think I've contributed my fair share as well."

Flue and Luvia both finished up the last of their breakfast and withdrew.

Covering his face and groaning in disappointment at everyone's refusal, eventually Seigen also gave up and left the table. After he left, the only thing that lingered in the room with us was the frigid hostility they left behind, like we were surrounded by wolves with teeth bared.

Once more, my master sighed deeply.

"Looks like no one is interested in splitting the cake evenly like good kids."

"My my, how unfortunate."

Hishiri, the only one remaining in the room besides ourselves, was sporting a smile.

Maybe it was because as the overseer she didn't have to worry about the conflict herself, but her smile seemed at once to express the serenity of a sage...and a comparably intense wickedness.

Part 3

As the night wore on, he moved into action.

After the events of that morning, like most of the magi, he had his dinner brought to his room. At the same time, he laid a protective Boundary Field across the four corners of his room, keeping vigilant against possible intruders. After confirming that the Field was functional, he turned to leave.

"...Heine?"

A girl called out in a sleepy voice from the bed, rubbing her eyes.

"Ah, Rosalind. I'm sorry, did I wake you up?"

"...yeah."

Approaching the faintly nodding girl, Heine gently stroked her hair with a gentleness that would make one question whether he was touching her at all. Seeing her close her eyes in satisfaction, he gave the girl a soft smile. Mustering up his resolve once again, he pulled away from her.

"I'm going out for a little bit. Are you alright alone?"

"Okay."

Nodding sleepily, she hesitantly opened her mouth.

"...umm."

He turned and gave her a look that invited her question out from her.

"Are you going to fight the other magi after all? Even Lord El-Melloi II?"

At that, he gave a faint smile.

"You've grown fond of him, have you?"

"...t-though he's no where near your level." Pursing her lips, Rosalind avoided Heine's gaze.

Seeing that, he couldn't help but think she really was like a little bird. With her all too fragile looking limbs, as if they'd break in your hands, and the pure white dress that seemed like infantile wings. She seemed so...transient.

And that was why he loved his little sister more than anything else.

"Don't worry. I'm just going to clear away some of the sparks that have shown up, and Lord El-Melloi II is a very wise gentleman. He won't put himself in so risky a situation."

Remaining calm and gentle to the last, Heine made his way out of the room.

The stone hallway was quiet.

Turning, Heine faced outside, from where an early autumn wind brought a harsh chill. More than just an issue of temperature, there was something mixed in with it that encroached on his very soul. Maybe it was the presence of magecraft.

"...ah," Heine let out a faint whisper as he began walking.

The Castle of Separation was a two floor structure, its distorted structure built as if on its side. Looking down on it from above, it would look similar to the Magatama of the Orient...in a way it looked like a curled up fetus. As if to protect it, arm-like walls stretched out around it, and by those walls was a spacious front garden.

After exiting out into said front garden, Heine picked a new direction and continued walking.

His steps had no sense of hesitation, no sense of randomness.

He was following the directions provided by his Angelic Name.

The discussion at that morning's breakfast table of the Shemamphorae, which could be interpreted to mean a collection of the names of 72 angels, could be converted to reference the 12 signs of the Zodiac. Normally the Zodiac used the sun as its basis for determining direction, but by narrowing the scope down to one of the 72 angels, the direction could be pinpointed to within five degrees.

If he understood that much, all he had to do was walk in that direction from his room.

His Angelic Name was Ariel. Affiliated with the sign of Pisces, it was an angel who held the meaning of The Revealer. His existence was not limited to within Kabbalah, also making an appearance within Milton's "Paradise Lost," among other places. Comparatively speaking, he could be called one of the more famous angels. Not necessarily even limited to being an angel, the name also appeared in Shakespeare's "Tempest," denoting the name of the spirit of the storm. This meant that the actual meaning the name represented could be one of any number of possibilities, so without Lord El-Melloi II's mentioning of the Shemhamphorae, coming to the conclusion to find the direction would have taken a little longer.

"But the Angelic Name for this room is 'Michael,' is it not?"

Unfortunately for them, Heine had been listening to the conversation between Luviagelita and Lord El-Melloi II the night before. After learning the directions their Angelic Names converted into, it was only a matter of finding out where the lines all converged.

Outside, the moon was full.

Before long, the thick foliage of the trees blocked the moonlight, and the front garden became a forest.

Heine didn't stop walking. Paying no mind to the trees and branches, he cut a straight line through the woods. The specially treated suit developed by the Istari family wouldn't have any problem withstanding this degree of punishment.

After advancing another few dozen meters, Heine was met with a sudden shaking noise.

"It's here, is it?"

Stopping, Heine raised his gaze. Before him stood a pedestal.

Whether they were supposed to be angels or not, he couldn't tell. Scattered around him were a number of pedestals, broken apart in various ways. He could barely make out that they were once statues with vaguely human-like shapes, but they had been thoroughly destroyed, preventing him from learning any more.

"Hmm."

Heine reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the invitation that bore his Angelic Name, which was now glowing faintly. Similarly to how the Angelic Name had mysteriously appeared the day before, new letters had now taken shape.

An angel becomes a beast. Gazing at the western sky, it swallows the sun.

"...not quite the end of the road yet, huh?" Heine whispered upon seeing the new letters.

Rather, it was the beginning of the road. Of course anyone could get this far, he thought to himself with a laugh.

But the young man was not discouraged.

(A beast towards the west...that limits the candidates considerably.)

Among the 72 angels of the Shemhamphorae, there were those who's names were produced just as part of a word game mixed in with those with actual distinct legends. Finding out which of those had relationships with beasts and the west would no doubt be insufficient. He would have to combine that information with some other clue to be found about the Castle.

Heine cautiously touched the ground.

The front garden of the Castle was impeccably well kept, but the same couldn't be said about the forest. Within the damp earth and plant life, Heine could discern a faint ruggedness with his eyes.

"...footprints?"

Returning the invitation to its place, he pulled a new object out of his coat.

Now resting on his open palm was what looked like a small child's toy. It was a small dog made of little metal cylinders. Placing the metallic dog replica in the ferns, he whispered one word.

"Convert"

For an instant, it seemed like his finger was glowing. In the next, it was brought to life.

Jumping down from Heine's palm, the replica began sniffing around the plants as if it was a real dog. The production of human-like Automata was already an obsolete lineage of magecraft, but in contrast the other fields of autonomous dolls were just beginning to be developed.

In particular, this metallic dog was a special creation. It was one of the Mystic Codes of the Istari family that Heine had brought with him. It was a product of the Istari family's alchemy, and was able to sniff out not just scents, but also wavelengths and lingering traces of magic.

After a few moments, the metallic dog picked a direction and began walking, and Heine followed close behind.

Breaking out of the cover of the forest, the young man was once again bathed in moonlight. Countless blooming flowers spread across the front garden shared the moonlight with him. It may have been the perfect night for those like poets and magi. The quiet sound of footsteps in the weeds was the only thing that signified the passing of the alchemical dog and its knight.

Before he knew it, they were back at the Castle. Walking parallel to the castle walls, Heine followed the spring-work dog while his mind wandered elsewhere.

(...I'm being watched?)

That was the kind of presence Heine could sense.

To be more accurate, it wasn't Heine himself who sensed it. Rather, it was a reaction from a number of gems, another one of the Mystic Codes Heine was carrying.

The Istari's trademark 'Living Stone' has been compared to a poor knock-off of arms used by Heroic Spirits, but it seems to actually be a considerable talent.

Heine recalled Lord El-Melloi II's words. Heine had of course been listening intently to every word that was said during his brief scuffle with Seigen Tokitou Jiroubou.

(...they've certainly done their research.)

It wasn't like the Istari family kept their "Living Stone" a secret, but the records that discussed it were few and far between. Knowing its name was one thing, but the number of magi who knew that it was a form of arms should have been next to none. Even if Heine didn't want to admit it, that man certainly had the knowledge fitting of a Lord.

(...Heroic Spirits, huh?)

Lord El-Melloi II certainly knew a lot about Heine, but Heine had done some research of his own as well. Roughly ten years ago, he had participated in a rather intense conflict between magi in the Far East. Such was the rumor among a certain group of magi even now.

The Fourth Holy Grail War.

Named something like that, it was a battle that took place in the Far East.

Apparently it was a battle between Heroic Spirits. The Holy Grail - almost definitely not the actual Holy Grail of Christian belief, but regardless - summoned a number of Heroic Spirits to fight against each other, and the last one standing would have their wish granted. Even as far as magi were concerned, it was an absurd ritual.

Not even Heine knew about the details of that battle, or how it unfolded.

But Lord El-Melloi II - at the time known only as Waver Velvet - was the sole survivor of the magi that participated under the banner of the Clock Tower, and there was no doubt that what he had over come was a most brutal of battlefields.

(He isn't someone I can underestimate.)

So Heine decided.

Even if when it came to magecraft Heine was superior, Heine was sure that man had something else up his sleeve. In a case like this, it might even be something of value beyond that of magecraft itself.

On top of that, Lord El-Melloi II was not his only opponent. Both Seigen, who he had dealt with once already, and Flue, who he knew as the "Master-killer," were opponent's of fearsome proportions. Not to mention the Edelfelt princess and that recluse Caesermund, who couldn't be described as anything but monsters.

Even so, Heine had to receive that inheritance by any means possible.

(...Rosalind)

As the face of his little sister floated into his mind, he became much more conscious of the "thing" inscribed on his leg.

A Magic Crest.

To begin with, Heine had no intentions of ever inheriting the Magic Crest of the Istari family. His cheerful and bright disposition just couldn't mesh with the dark side of magecraft, so halfway through his training, he left his family behind and knocked on the doors of the Church. As a result, the Istari family, which had lost its heir, turned its eyes to its second child - and a tragedy occured.

Rosalind's body responded...abnormally to the Magic Crest.

Magic Crests were similar to a kind of internal organ. Overlooking a vanishingly small number of exceptions, it could only adapt to a person of the same bloodline, and even then the body would naturally reject it. For that reason, the crest would be transplanted in small parts at fixed intervals up until the new host had reached full puberty. This, combined with the administration of anti-rejection drugs and the assistance of a Tuner were fundamental principles behind adapting the Crest to a new body.

But, Heine's father must have been impatient.

Or maybe, it was because at first, Rosalind's adaptability to the crest had been phenomenal.

Strictly speaking, his sister's case was different from that of rejection. It was probably better to say that she adapted too well. Within only one year, they had finished transplanting the Crest into her, and there seemed to be no evidence of rejection. The truth, however, was that the Crest had actually stolen the vast majority of her life force. After hearing of this from the family, Heine instantly discarded the laws of the Church and returned to have the Crest re-transplanted into him, but it was already too late.

The Magic Crest had been completely transformed when it was transplanted into Rosalind.

Even as Rosalind began to recover, the Magic Crest started gradually stealing Heine's life force. Maybe because Heine had a much stronger sense of vitality to him, the Crest inscribed on his leg devoured its way into the core of his body. Removing it was no longer an option. After speaking to an old friend who was a Witch Doctor, he was told he likely only had a few years left to live.

...dying didn't really bother him though.

Actually, if he did die, they would be able to extract the Magic Crest from him. Having his life cut short was unfortunate, but for a family of magi it was more than a common occurrence.

However.

Heine did not want to force his sister to live through the guilt of having been responsible for her own brother's death.

That alone was something Heine couldn't bear.

A faint, bitter smile rose to Heine's face.

A normal Tuner would have no way at all to save him from the Magic Crest now. That was why, no matter what the cost, Heine had to get his hands on the inheritance of Geryuon Ashbourne - the Master of Restoration.

***********

Heine's thoughts were interrupted.

As he reached the outer third of the Castle's surrounding area, Heine abruptly felt his body grow tense.

In the next instant, the dog walking on the ground in front of him was torn to pieces.

Of course, a Mystic Code of the Istari family wasn't designed to just fall apart so easily. As if to trample over its defeated prey, the darkness itself seemed to shake.

Within the shadow of the Castle, where the moonlight didn't reach, an even deeper blackness was lurking. Heine couldn't get a distinct look at its shape. With the quietness and stillness of Death itself, the thing that was definitely there had no discernable presence.

In the darkness, floating there was only a single pair of crimson eyes.

Heine heard a voice.

"-I ask you, the angel's name."

To call it's voice hoarse would be an understatement. It was more like the sound of the wind. In response to that voice, Heine opened his eyes wide.

"So you are the one who I need to tell?"

Heine immediately suppressed his excitement. The thing in front of him didn't appear to have any intention of answering his question. Seeing that, and after some careful consideration, Heine decided to say the word that had been given to him at the very beginning.

"Ariel."

It was the name written on his invitation. Heine's own Angelic Name. In response, the beast simply repeated its own question.

"-I ask you, the angel's name."

(So that wasn't it after all...)

Of course, he had expected as much. If it had just been as simple as saying his Angelic Name, there would have been no point to setting up this whole situation. Even if he didn't know the answer right now, there should have been some answer that satisfied only the old master of this castle's question. If that was the case, it should have something to do with the list of names he had found earlier, but there were still more than 10 candidates on that list.

So why don't I just take a chance and say one of those names?

But that would-

"-If you cannot answer, you shall be torn apart."

The shadow began to rise.

It was a strange sensation, like watching a two dimensional object rise up into three dimensions.

He couldn't see it very clearly, but he could at least tell that in its new form, it was standing on all fours. Seeing how fearsome the claws it raised were, there was no longer any doubt as to what happened to the metal dog from before. Even human flesh and bone would likely be no more than paper before them.

In response, Heine chanted a spell of his own.

But,

"Convert."

Before the spell could take effect, the beast's claws tore through the young man.

That's what it looked like.

In reality, there had been no outward effect of the spell Heine had cast. But even so, the beast's claws were turned away with the sound of striking something solid.

If one were to look at the spot where Heine's clothes had been shredded, they would see not skin, but instead a violet glow.

"Magecraft is as strong as what occurs in the body...In the Istari family, that is the first principle we are taught."

The young man's voice was overflowing with self confidence.

The Istari family's prized Living Stone was buried deep within Heine's own body.

By infusing his own body with magical energy, he could change its construction with a single spell. A single one of those stones covered, by his calculations, about seven percent of his body. By activating only half of them, eighty four percent of his body was now covered with violet armour.

On the Mohs Scale, it would be an armour of comparable hardness to sapphire.

"You said you were going to tear me apart, didn't you?"

Not forgetting his honour to the very end, Heine spoke.

Even his face had transformed to the same material as the rest of his body. The clothes he had been wearing before were originally an item created by Istari alchemy. The suit, which blended easily with the Living Stone, provided a stabilizing effect. The sleeves of the suit itself had transformed into gauntlets, and the boots into greaves.

Heine now bore the appearance of an ever-tenacious Knight.

"Unfortunately, it seems like your claws can't cut my body."

His cool, clear voice echoed in the night air outside the castle. The moonlight scattered across the surface of his armour, as if over fragmented crystal.

"On the other hand, can you defend against my spear?"

At the same time as his armour, a spear appeared in his hand. It was a spear made of the same Living Stone. Using alchemy, it had been strengthened to the utmost, its tip more durable than even diamond. If combined with the mechanical horse of the Istari family, Heine was confident his charge would penetrate even through the armour of a tank.

That spear and that armour were, themselves, Heine's destiny.

A form that could even turn away the assassins of the Church.

At the same time, Heine's perception of the beast before him slowly became more distinct. Perhaps due to the result of some magic, he still couldn't distinguish the finer details, but he could now tell the beast had a form similar to that of a wolf. Like a wolf, or the tigers that lived in distant lands - no, it was even larger than that, Heine felt.

(A beast...)

Heine was reminded of the message of the constellation from earlier.

"In 18th Century France, there was a legend of the Beast of Gévaudan, wasn't there? Alternatively, since it's related to this castle, could it be the cherubim that guard paradise...or I guess cherub, since it's singular?"

In the public records, in the year 1764, the first day of June, in the area of France known as Gévaudan, a mysterious beast appeared. After killing over a hundred people, with its true nature never being discovered, it transformed into a legend of a WerewolfLoup-Garou. Cherubim, on the other hand, were the guardians of the east edge of paradise, with four faces and four wings - unofficially, a half-human half-beast angel. The singular form would be cherub.

Being connected to the Castle of Separation, he couldn't help but feel like there was some sort of connection here.

"..."

Leisurely, Heine brought his spear to bear. Shifting his weight forward, he very slowly began to shorten the distance between them. When he came within a distance where there was no hope of avoiding his strike, he would pierce through it regardless of what it was.

In the next instant, the beast howled.

As if it had been awakened by the beast's howl, the air surrounding Heine suddenly transformed.

"?!!"

It was hot.

Surrounding Heine was a flow of air hotter than fire itself. It was a level of heat even his "Living Stone" armour couldn't compete with.

(Not magecraft...a special ability of the beast's?!)

Immediately, Heine's hand began to move. Retrieving a flask from within the sleeve that had transformed into armour, and released its contents. They instantly evaporated, combining with Heine's own Od, and brought about an entirely unscientific result.

With a low sound, the white flames began to swirl. While it seemed like the fire Heine had released in front of him would bring forth even more scorching heat, the opposite happened. Within moments, the flames transformed into a pillar of ice.

"Did you think alchemy could only affect minerals?"

Underneath his helmet, Heine gave a pleasant smile.

"Whether it is liquid or gas, or even a conceptual form that doesn't exist in this world, it's within the grasp of alchemy. Well, for me at least, this kind of thing is actually my specialty."

There exists a concept of elements.

Lord El-Melloi II had spoken of it earlier, but Heine possessed a dual element of Fire and Water, rare even in the world of magi. While it might be common to think that a contradictory affinity, they weren't necessarily in conflict with each other. Of course, possessing them as a dual element was a rare ability in and of itself, but if you thought of a liquid that burns, it would be fairly easy to understand.

In this case, rather than functioning like gasoline, the liquid flames he produced stole the heat from the air in an instant.

Heine's hand moved, causing his spear to flash.

The blade surging forth in the darkness became seven. The fused Living Stone was not simply just a resilient armour. It also served to enhance his physical characteristics, bringing him far above the abilities of a normal human.

The beast reacted.

Using its claws, it managed to deflect the first spear, but the second two struck home. Without even flinching, however, the beast leapt away.

(It's fleeing?!)

Morphing his armour into a mode optimized for pursuit, Heine gave chase.

As expected of the kind of beast it appeared to be, its speed was beyond what Heine could muster. As it ran, it suddenly broke off, heading into one of the castle's corridors that opened to the outside.

The high-pitched sound of metal striking stone resounded. Due to the time of night, lighting within the castle had been all but extinguished, and with the interior closed off from the moonlight, the darkness within the castle was incomparable to that outside of it. Heine had no choice but to pursue the beast relying only on its lingering presence in the hallways.

"..."

For some reason, Heine couldn't overcome the uneasiness that began to well up in his chest. Before even his brain could comprehend it, the blood pounding in his veins and his skin rising into goosebumps seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation.

(No way...!)

As Heine continued his pursuit, he realized something.

Thinking, of the message that appeared on that invitation before he had gone out into the forest.

What if he hadn't been the first one to read that message?

What if he was actually the second person to have read the message on that envelope?

What if the one the beast had been asking questions to...wasn't him at all?

-His answer was before him shortly.

Moonlight poured in through the skylight.

He was standing within the atrium of the castle. It was the place exactly opposite to the lobby in which everyone had gathered when they first met. In this ancient-styled castle, where no expense had been spared in bedecking it with luxury and extravagance, it was the one place that resounded of quiet solemnity. A nearby piano and harp told of the music that must have filled the room at some point in the past.

The beast's presence was vanishing.

"..."

Heine's eyes were fixed on the center of the atrium. The reason this atrium had been built was no doubt to house the statue that stood at the middle of it.

Dominating the center of the atrium was the massive statue of an angel, in one hand a sword, and in the other a pair of scales. No doubt taking influence from the statue of Michael in Mont Saint-Michel, it was a figure Heine was extremely familiar with. Those scales were to measure the sins of the dead, and the sword was to drive away the serpentSatan. There was no doubt that the Archangel Michael was one of, if not the most famous of all angels.

"Ah!!"

Suddenly, Heine realized.

The thick scent permeating the air didn't permit him to turn his eyes away.

Was this blasphemy? Or maybe, since this was the territory of magi, it was supposed to be a kind of blessing?

As if proclaiming the victory of faith, the angel raised its holy sword high in the air.

And that holy sword was piercing straight through-

**********

My master and I were awoken before morning came. Even in his half asleep state, he seemed to understand there was some gravity to the situation, as he promptly fixed his disheveled clothing and headed out.

As soon as we entered the atrium, we felt a presence.

As if he could barely contain his feelings, a small voice slipped out between his lips.

"Hishiri...Adashino...!"

The Castle of Separation was built in somewhat of a C-shape. On one end was the lobby, where everyone had gathered when they first met. The other end would be this open hall. Paintings and murals aside, the piano, harp, pillars, and even smaller furniture in the room were designed following the angelic theme of the rest of the castle, a vibrant display of the late master's eccentricity.

But, for once, I paid it no mind.

Because she was there, in the center of the room.

Her long-sleeved kimono was so beautiful, it looked like it had been made for this very moment. The oriental clothing gave an even stronger air of mystery than before as it lay up against the statue of an angel. Even the blood dripping down that angel's sword didn't impinge on that beauty. That is to say, even with the now blackening blood that surrounded her, the impaled woman's beauty seemed the only thing that remained unchanged.

"...!"

I unconsciously covered my mouth. Because in addition to the smell of blood so thick it could make you choke, I noticed something else.

From her beautiful face, with its pale, smooth, exotic flavour, head tilted backwards, both of her eyes had been gouged out.

"This is...!"

My master trailed off after a few words. After a short while, he recollected his bearings and spoke again.

"Heine, could you please get her down?"

Heine flicked his gaze around the room. Before he had realized it, all of the magi invited to the castle had gathered.

Seigen and Flue, Luviagelita and her escort, as well as even Orlocke and the boy pushing his wheelchair were present. As expected, no one could ignore an event of this caliber. As if, being magi, they were all used to situations like this, despite the air of sharp tension in the room, none of those present had lost their composure. The only exception perhaps being the greatly unsettled Rosalind, but even she seemed capable of holding on while she had her brother to support her.

"Understood."

Seeing no objections, Heine stretched an arm towards the statue. From his arm, a metal strand as thin as a hair reached out, sliced through the statue's sword, and gentle lowered Hishiri's body into Heine's arms. Paying no heed to the blood staining his clothes, Heine in turn gently lowered her down and laid her on the floor. My master moved up and crouched down at her side.

"My apologies."

So saying, he reached out and touched her. Lifting the sleeves of her kimono out of the way, he quickly checked over her body. As if he was a trained doctor, he checked her body for external wounds with a cold efficiency.

"Heine mentioned it was some kind of beast. It certainly seems like her eyes were gouged out by something similar to a large claw. On top of that she has a large portion cut out of the middle of her back. Most likely that was where here Magic Crest was. I guess a magus of high standing can't die without something like that happening."

Of course all Magic Crests were unique, but they did have one function in common. Though the Crests of older families developed into something similar to a curse, it was that Crest that permitted them to live, so everything the magus had was poured into it. For someone as far removed from humanity as a magus, there was no uncertainty to be found in their death. In a way, the individual magi within the family were little more than vessels used to carry on the Magic Crest.

Gently, a blood soaked envelope fell from the sleeves of her kimono. My master picked up the envelope that bore a striking resemblence to the ones given to us, and immediately inspected its contents.

"Oh? It seems she had an Angelic Name as well. This is..."

At that, his words stopped.

Hachasaiah.

Seeing the one word printed on that envelope, my master's face quickly turned grim.

"Master?"

Pressing a single blood soaked finger to his chin, my master held his silence as he thought. At last, he spoke again, his voice shaking.

"...I think I've made a mistake."

"A mistake?"

Despite my reply, he didn't answer right away. With fingers shaking, he once again inspected the body of the cruelly slain Hishiri. He sifted through her hair, now covered in dried blood, and double checked the area where her eyes had been gouged out.

"...the Angelic Names weren't some sort of hint towards the inheritance."

At that, all of the magi in the room turned to look at him. The first to speak was the wheelchair-bound Orlocke.

"...if that is the case, then what are they?"

"It's not a mystery at all."

The root for the word 'mystery' was the greek word for 'to close.' Shutting, concealing, self-completion, in short a mystery held meaning specifically because it was a mystery.

Secrets themselves were the bread and butter of magecraft. The fewer that can travel any individual path of magecraft, the greater things that can be accomplshed on it. Before coming to the Castle of Separation, my master had mentioned that the more well known a Concept was, the more stable it was, but this was the opposite - a truth anyone who called themselves a magus would know.

So, when they heard the message from the Castle's deceased lord, they took it at face value. In their worldcommon sense, they had already become used to these kinds of habits, and also accepted it as a holy ritual to weed out those unworthy of the inheritance.

But.

What if it hadn't been a mystery at all?

"I already mentioned how the 72 angels of the Shemhamphorae could be translated into various signs of the zodiac. In the same way they can be translated to refer to different parts of the body. I'm sure there's no need to explain the correspondence between the macrocosmos and the microcosmos in our current company."

As he spoke, the other magi in the room showed tense expressions.

They already understood what my master was trying to say.

"Hachasaiah translates to the sign of Aries. Aries as a whole broadly translates to be divine protection of the human head..."

At that, my master paused. Speaking softly, as if to spare the squeamish,

"...in short, if you limit it to Hachasaiah, it covers the eyes."

Reflexively, I let out a loud gasp.

The proclamation Hishiri had given in the lobby resurfaced in the back of my mind.

Those who cannot answer shall be torn apart.

Is this what it means to be torn apart by an angel?

It wasn't some sort of riddle or metaphor. It was a simple, direct message to the magi seeking his inheritance. If you aren't able to answer, then you will be ripped to pieces, so prepare yourself. That's all it meant?

"In short, the Angelic Names are just advance notice of how we are to be killed."

His voice echoed throughout the room. It was almost like a spell. I felt the illusion of all the angels distributed across the large room suddenly changing from righteous beings to trained killers aiming for our lives.

But, after saying that, my master hung his head as if in shame.

"Master?"

"...this is bad," he whispered.

It seemed as if my voice didn't reach him at all. That's how immersed he was in his own thoughts.

"Master?"

After calling out one more time, he finally turned to me.

The grief on his face was even more intense than when he had just found out about the true meaning of the Angelic Names.

"...this is really bad."

"What is?"

"This result. Whoever the culprit behind this is, creating this situation was surely one of their objectives. Among all the people gathered in the Castle of Separation, she was the only one who knew of Ashbourne's secret, and the only one with no need for it herself."

He glanced behind himself.

Just by moving his gaze, his meaning came off clear. Aside from Rosalind who was still attached to Heine, not a single one of the magi in the room expressed fear. Rather, the atmosphere had actually become...excited.

They finally had proof that there was indeed something hidden here. In order to obtain that, there was no need to look down on the method of killing their competition. And with the overseer dead, there was no reason to avoid it either.

"Ha! So you are trying to say that after gouging out her eyes and ripping out her Magic Crest, the beast just politely threw her on that sword for us? Don't make me laugh."

"Are you trying to say that I'm lying, Mister Flueger?"

"No, no. I believe your story, Heine."

"Then, are you proposing that the ghost of my friend Geryuon Ashbourne is creeping around the castle?"

"Are you trying to say you think the culprit is one of us, Old Bag Caesermund?"

The voices of the magi resounded.

The voices echoing throughout the room, full of conceit, hostility, and curiosity, melded together into a night storm echoing the Wild Hunt.

Yes, that's right.

As my master had said, this was no longer just a simple treasure hunt.

But my impression differed slightly from that of my master. This incident didn't mean there was no longer a mystery to be solved. Rather, whether it was the riddle of the inheritance or the mystery of the culprit, a mystery remained at the heart of this case. In fact, its presence felt stronger than ever.

What we had been mistaken about was the nature of the puzzle.

It wasn't a puzzle meant to be solved.

As if drawn in by a sweet honey, the magi had been pulled in to this circuit of calamity and disaster. With the mystery being the driving force behind the production, the true story was about to take form.

The curtain of the Grand Guignol had risen.