Chapter 3 – The Thunder God Emperor Festival Main Tournament and the Cat-Eared Girl’s Brother
So. We were at the venue for the main tournament of the Thunder God Emperor Ephthal Festival.
For now, one thing is certain: Sheryl’s magic power depletion is in bad shape.
Long, long ago, a water spirit girl took on flesh on a whim. And there was Isaac, the Ice God Emperor. By the accident of his magic aptitude, the water spirits in the air doted on him—more than anyone else in the world, probably.
Once those two met, ending up close was fate, I suppose.
And a half-spirit, half-human child naturally runs into all sorts of trouble.
Isaac and I were friends, for what it’s worth, so back then we tore through the literature together, desperately. The conclusion was that the odds of dying of magic power depletion before turning ten were significantly high.
The thing is, a spirit devours magic power just to keep living.
Well, of course it does. A spirit is a creature of mind—its very existence is a mass of magic power.
So a spirit constantly converts the air’s energy into magic power and breathes it in, and that’s how it holds its strength as a being of mind.
A human, obviously, can’t do that. Which is to say a spirit-human half burns fuel faster than a human can produce it.
And as the human child grows, the amount it needs climbs, until eventually it hits the limit and dies.
By the math back then… by the grandchild or great-grandchild generation it just barely works out, but at the child stage, no matter how we ran it, it didn’t.
Well, descendants exist, so Isaac clearly managed something for his own child.
—Probably by the method I’m about to use on Sheryl.
I mean, the two of us concluded “with this method the child’s generation will be fine,” so it can’t be anything else.
And the thing I feared most back then is exactly what’s happening to Sheryl now—atavism.
A god-adjacent existence… which is to say, frankly, something nobody understands. Anything could happen, and in crossbreeding with other races you see cases of it here and there.
And if it happened in a descendant’s generation, Isaac wouldn’t be around, and nothing could be done. Which is why I… told him to stop, back then, until I was blue in the face.
And so, about Sheryl herself…
A fate of death, sure—but she isn’t going to die tomorrow, or the day after, or in a week. A month from now, though… I couldn’t guarantee it.
So in case a depletion attack hits and she suddenly can’t move, I prepared emergency medicine.
Which puts us in a reassuring posture, for now… except there’s one thing I can’t get to sit right.
“…Mm? What is it, Ephthal?”
“It’s nothing, Sheryl.”
“Nothing” is a lie.
For a start, I don’t understand why Sheryl used magic in her dorm room at all, Level 1 or not.
Either she doesn’t realize she’s depleting, or there’s something else that makes her sure her life isn’t in danger… and today’s match is where I need to find that out.
Sasha dropped the name Cliff, the Fire God Emperor, at this festival too, and it all smells wrong.
Even treating Sheryl, I’d better not assume everything goes the way I plan, and I’m absolutely better off confirming what I can.
“But, listen, could you stop walking around holding the hem of my coat…?”
“…It settles me down.”
I mean, how attached is this kid… Well, I don’t mind it.
What I feel toward Sheryl right now is basically what you’d feel for a friend’s daughter.
She’s practically family, and when she gets attached and comes running, thinking she’s cute is just the natural response.
I patted Sheryl on the head, and sure enough she went “Ehehe” and her cat ears twitched, delighted.
“…Being patted by Ephthal really does settle me.”
“Settle you?”
“…Because you smell the same as Brother… huuug.”
And, sure enough, I got hugged.
Anyway, today is the Thunder God Emperor Festival semifinals.
This round is a team match, single elimination. The match itself should be an easy win. But before I put real treatment into Sheryl’s depletion, I want to confirm it’s genuinely what I think. Through live combat, where nothing can be faked.
Botch the treatment and it’s a matter of her life, so: careful work, not sloppy.
☆★☆★☆★
And so the Thunder God Emperor Festival semifinals began.
Incidentally, our opponents are a third-year class.
The student council gathers the best of the whole school, so they’re a mixed unit that cuts across classes. And this time, unlike the preliminaries, it seems we’re fighting in the academy’s own colosseum.
If I say it’s like the Colosseum in Rome, tidied up, does that get some of the nuance across for a modern-Earth reader?
It’s a very large venue—this is a famous demon academy, when all’s said and done—and being able to borrow a national facility for an event is impressive, I think.
And in the middle of the flat ground, past the spectator seating, there’s a fighting platform. Exactly the colosseum, right down to the letter.
And so, about ten seconds after the “Match, begin!” signal, here we are, five facing five—
“Sh-Sh-She’s floa—ting! What the hell is that mask! That’s Level 5 Flight, isn’t it!?”
Yes. She’s floating.
This swallowtail-butterfly-masked, school-uniform-cosplaying woman… is floating. Merlin isn’t allowed to fight, so she pulled off the platform the instant we started. But—she is drawing so much attention it’s exhausting to even comment.
No, seriously, why does this girl just casually use Level 5? I had a premise to work with, at least—the mysterious boy Headmaster Merlin took a personal interest in.
A mask and Level 5? However you look at it, that’s a target-rich environment for heckling. And our five opponents have been going pale and shouting things at each other this whole time—
“I’m telling you, these guys are weird! That black-haired one used Level 5 in the preliminaries too!”
“Forget that, the headmaster uses honorifics on that black-haired human, Ephthal or whatever he’s called!? There’s definitely something with these people! And one of their members is a kid! This is all wrong!”
At that, Merlin said this, with a smug look on her face.
“Be at ease, gentlemen! What I am using is not Level 5 but… Level 4 Illusion! For the record, I shall not lift a finger!”
That again… And I went limp on the spot, thoroughly worn down.
But, well—hearing it, the five of them visibly got their color back.
“Hey, she says it’s an illusion.”
“Level 4, huh… Then there’s a chance the Level 5 the black-haired guy used was actually an illusion too.”
“Isn’t Level 4 maybe their ceiling? Then we can take them, right? The odds aren’t zero, right?”
“We are carrying the class banner, technically. If we forfeit… no telling what everyone back in class says about us afterward.”
“Yeah, Anonymous Hope says she won’t interfere, and one of them’s a kid, so realistically… we’re up against three.”
And the five of them looked at us and swallowed hard.
“…Five against three… we can do this.”
Wh-what… incredibly easy-to-read guys.
They seemed convinced the numbers were on their side, and the frightened look from a moment ago shifted into a confident one.
And the gallery, too… from what I could see, everyone seemed to believe Merlin’s illusion line.
And when I nervously checked the faculty referee… “An illusion, is it…”—for some reason, he was satisfied.
And at that point, finally, this was obviously wrong.
—Level 8: Long Range Mind Jack.
Yeah. A species of mental contamination… or rather, a confusion spell.
High-tier magic must weep to be used on something this stupid.
Anyway, the opponents seem thoroughly motivated now.
“For now… bullying a kid looks bad. So we concentrate on the one who looks weakest besides her—that soft, fluffy woman!”
Looks like they’ve fixed on Anastasia.
“They’re going to come at us with Level 4, watch out!”
“Which is what the four of us are for—Level 4 magic barrier!”
“And I, the strongest close-quarters fighter in this school, cut in and put that pink-haired woman down in one hit!”
I see. As a plan, that isn’t bad.
Anastasia, at the end of the big man’s run, was in fact standing a little forward of the rest of us, jutting out toward their side.
For Maria and me to help Anastasia, we’d need to fire long-range attack spells.
The four of them cooperated, built their formulas, and completed a Level 4-class barrier to protect the big man.
If it goes the way they intend, Anastasia gets dropped instantly and only Maria and I are left.
And then, whatever the gap in skill as mages, brute numbers can do something about it… is roughly the idea.
And as the shaven-headed giant raised his practice sword overhead and came at us—
“Please wait! You don’t need to do that—if it’s one-on-one close combat, a bout between warriors, then I’ll take you on!”
Anastasia called out to the giant at the top of her voice.
“What? One-on-one!?”
The giant stopped moving.
Well, from his side one-on-one close combat is exactly what he’d have wished for, so it’s a bolt-from-the-blue stroke of luck.
“I accept a one-on-one bout. So, first, I think we should start with a greeting. I’m a swordsman of sorts myself. This is a duel between warriors—haven’t you ever heard the words, ‘begin with a bow and end with a bow’?”
The giant thought about something for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“I’m Anthony, third-year… Anthony Ames.”
“I’m Anastasia, first-year… Anastasia—”
And at about five meters apart, the two of them lowered their heads to bow. And the instant the man’s head was all the way down, Anastasia twisted hard—
—and threw a knife.
Well, not a real one. A practice one.
Even so, it’s got lightning enchantment on it, so taking a hit doesn’t come free. And with the knife in his shoulder and the electric shock through him, the giant went “Gnnngh” and dropped to one knee.
“That’s dirty!”
Yeah. You said it. Because even I’m managing a strained smile over here.
“Well, there’s someone way dirtier than me, you know?”
And at that moment, countless rose stems appeared on the platform.
“My legs, my legs, my leeeegs!”
“Wh-wh-what the hell is thiiis!?”
What coiled around the five of them was Rose Bind.
Well, it’s a magic tool elves like to use. Incidentally, in the finals, bringing in a self-made magic tool is permitted so long as it’s nominally supporting your magic.
This was a special exemption meant as relief for the alchemy majors. But nobody from the alchemy track entered, so it’s become an exemption nobody has ever used. And that’s what Anastasia’s eye landed on.
I remember it well—Anastasia reading the rulebook and going “Ah!”
Her usual soft, fluffy expression vanished for a second, and she made an evil face. Although… I’d like to believe the evil face was my imagination.
Anyway, that magic tool of Maria’s changes strength with the skill of the caster.
Bound by a girl who put on power at a ferocious rate during the training camp… none of them are getting out of that quickly.
“—Right, now that you can’t move, it’s beating-time!”
Arrows with their attack power raised by enchantment rained down on the five of them, thick as hail. And the screaming began.
“Aaaaaargh—!”
“I-i-it’s no good after all!”
“What is with that elf! What’s going on with this binding! And these are practice arrows, right!? What kind of enchantment do you need for this much power!?”
“I told you! I told you these people are wrong!”
And with the five of them in a state of panic, Anastasia and Maria made eye contact and nodded to each other.
“Here we go, Anastasia!”
“Yes! Maria-san!”
The two of them ran up and each stretched out her right hand.
I mean, these two are genuinely good at fighting. Apparently that was the aim from the start.
“Ready—!”
And with their palms together, the two of them glared hard at the five and—
“Level 5: Explosion!”
A literal, kaboom-grade explosion.
Immobilize, beat them into collapse, then finish with big firepower from a cooperative ritual spell.
Yeah, I’d call that a fine result.
“At least the kid…! If we don’t take down even one of them, everyone in class is going to look at us like we’re dirt!”
The giant’s “strongest close-quarters fighter in the school” line wasn’t just for show, apparently.
He’d been farthest from the blast center and taken the least damage. Even so, he’d forced his way out of Rose Bind—and he came at Sheryl, next to me, sword raised.
But I don’t move. Well, I’ll save her at the last possible moment if she looks like getting hurt. And the instant Sheryl entered the giant’s range—
“Level 3: Huge Tornado.”
“Wha! Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!”
The tornado she generated threw the giant about ten meters into the air—and then he came down.
“Gwuh!”
He made a strange noise and passed out, twitching, but…
He’s got physical enhancement up, from the look of it, and at this level he’ll get away with a minor injury, so no particular cause for worry.
The problem, rather, is Sheryl.
Which is to say: she’s supposed to be depleting, in a state that runs straight to mortal danger. So how can Sheryl fire off a Level 3 at all?
The next day, Saturday.
The magic academy was closed, and in the early afternoon Sheryl and I were walking through town.
“…I have asked you many times not to follow me.”
To Sheryl’s troubled face, I shrugged and said this.
“Well, I’m curious.”
“…Why are you curious?”
“Because I’m already on the boat.”
Sheryl thought about something for a while, then fell silent and started walking.
“…Then do as you like.”
We went from the main street in the center of town into the back streets.
And we pressed deeper and deeper down the alleys, and the scenery around us grew steadily more desolate… no, more unsettling.
Trash was strewn through the narrow lanes, and homeless people slept where they lay. The smell of ammonia grazed my nose now and then, and both the mood and the sanitation were foul.
There were people drinking from midday, and around here a young man in tidy clothes is a pusher, guaranteed.
—Well, we’d stepped into what you’d call a slum.
“Sheryl, where are we heading?”
“…My once-a-year errand at the back guild. I need a magic crystal. Through legitimate channels I cannot obtain one.”
Well, roughly as I imagined.
If a girl who by rights should be dying of magic power depletion is casually using magic… she needs an external fuel tank.
Incidentally, magic crystals get used for defending strongpoints in monster-heavy regions.
They’re used for building shelters in safe zones—to hold a state where a ritual spell is running constantly, that sort of thing.
And a magic crystal is a substance refined from magic stones, which you can occasionally take from high-tier monsters.
That said, the output itself is fundamentally not strong.
Hmm, how should I put it… if you imagine a dry-cell battery with absurdly high endurance, that’s about right.
Output scales with the size of the magic stone. So something that can sustain a ritual spell runs to a price that tips a country over.
Well, they’re used in magic tools too, and they’re fundamentally expensive. So even a small one comes to quite a sum.
And trade in them is strictly controlled by the union of nations, so as Sheryl says, there’s no room to get one through proper channels.
“I know roughly about the spirits… about your magic power depletion, from the research records left in the Alcott ducal house. But dealing with the back guild… is it all right to tell me that?”
“…It is not something to hide, and this transaction is not illegal… at least on the buying side. And… I trust that Ephthal is a good person.”
Well, the selling side is breaking the law at the sourcing stage. Realistically the only routes are theft or embezzled goods leaking out.
While I was thinking that, Sheryl let out a sigh.
“…What a rotten place, regardless.”
Sheryl gripped my sleeve tightly. And there I noticed Sheryl was trembling.
“Scared?”
“…Mm. There are many thugs. So… right now I’m scared. It was not… like this before.”
“What do you mean, right now?”
“…Last year and the year before I was not scared, because I could use higher magic. Every year the magic I can handle gets weaker, and now Level 3 is my limit. A magic crystal is not all-powerful either.”
“Magic crystals, though… aren’t they expensive?”
“…Brother sends money every year, so it is fine. This year was quite dangerous, so I resorted to a last measure.”
Ah, I see. So that’s why she was selling underwear at the flea market.
“Brother—your older brother? If he needs magic crystals too, then between the two of you that’s got to come to a ridiculous amount of money…?”
“…Mm. He is not blood, so it is fine.”
“Not blood?”
“…I was bought with money by a ducal house of mages. To give the ducal house prestige.”
“I’d like you to tell me that part in detail.”
Sheryl gave a small nod.
“…My first memory begins in a room of the slave market, as collateral for my real parents’ debt… with the duke carving a slave crest into me. Since the first Ice God Emperor died, nothing has gone well for the family.”
And so Sheryl explained it to me, and summarized, it comes to this.
First, as a premise, Isaac—right up until the Fire God Emperor killed him—kept his child’s life going by “that method,” without hardship.
But once Isaac was gone, that method doesn’t hold.
So from there it got ugly. Which is to say Isaac’s child, after the father died, was kept alive with magic crystals, same as Sheryl now.
But they couldn’t get high-output crystals, so keeping the child alive was all they could manage… and at that point, as a mage, the child was finished.
And within the court of the country Isaac belonged to, the house’s standing turned precarious and the decline began.
First the land and buildings. Then, as the generations went on, more and more fatal things went up for sale, until at the end they’d sold off even the title and the domain… so the story goes.
—To take spirit blood into a line means exactly that.
You gain superhuman magic aptitude, but the fuel economy is too bad, and eventually even life itself burns out. This is why Sheryl was a genius, and it’s why her growth stopped.
And Isaac’s line took several generations before the spirit blood thinned to a level where you could live as an ordinary mage.
The upshot is that all through that stretch the house was fed cold rice, the situation became unrecoverable, and here we are.
“…The story ends here. We have arrived.”
A desolate building in one corner of the slum—this, apparently, was Sheryl’s destination.
In Japanese terms it was a multi-tenant block, with two staircases from the entrance, up and down. We took the stairs up.
Second floor of a three-story building, and at the end of the corridor Sheryl knocked three times, paused, then twice.
And from the other side came one knock, and she returned one.
Well, this’d be a precaution because they’re doing illegal trade around here.
And while I was thinking that, I immediately heard the lock come off, and the door opened with a creak.