"Huh?" asked Esther. Her face seemed to beg the question What is he saying? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
In a shy voice, Ion replied, "Well, I like you. You're smart and brave. And more than anything, you're kind. What do you think about living here, instead of in the barbaric Outer?"
Sensing that the length of the pier was unusually short, Ion raised his voice. It was a speech he'd thought and thought about so much before, but now it was difficult when he tried to put it into words. Still, he managed to speak utilizing all of the Roman common language he knew.
"If you become my citizen, a good education and protection are guaranteed. You would enjoy incomparable cultural activity, compared to the Outer. You would never have to cross the stormy seas with your frail body, or go on errands to strange lands again. Hadn't you better send that priest back to the Duchess of Milan so you can stay here?" Ion asked.
"Thank you very much, Your Excellency the Count," said Esther.
The girl's shapely mouth broke into a smile as she bowed. The sunlight cast a golden sheen around her red hair. But the sun was somewhere that wasn't here. Or, rather, it was shining on somebody who wasn't Ion.
"I'm grateful for Your Excellency's goodwill, but there are still things left that I want to do. Until I've finished those things, it's a bit unreasonable for me to move," Esther explained.
"Things you want to do? Like what?" asked Ion.
"Well, the truth is, I don't really know that myself," said Esther. Embarrassed that she'd said something stupid, her cheeks turned a faint hue of red. Scratching her head, Esther added, "I only came here because I wanted to know why my family and friends died. So — "
"So?" Ion pressed, looking up at Esther with an earnest expression. Staring into her blue eyes, reminiscent of Lapis Lazuli, he held his tongue as if waiting for her next words.
Out of nowhere the silliest of voices interrupted their conversation. "Urn, excuse me. I'm very sorry, in the midst of this confusion . . ."Abel interjected, "But Your Excellency the Count, can I use a toilet for a bit? Something strange about that meat from before. Um . . . direct attack?"
"Wah! Father, your face is stark white!" Esther screamed.
Abel had doubled over and was holding his stomach, his face turning pale. There was also a bizarre noise coming from his abdomen.
"I kind of thought that meat was a little sour, but sure enough . . . Ugh!" moaned Abel.
"I told you not to be greedy, but you always . . ." Esther began. "Wah! Wah! Please be patient! If you have an accident in your pants here, it'll be a sensitive incident. Your Excellency the Count, um — "
"The citizens' bathroom is that way," Ion said dryly, halfheartedly pointing toward the back of the house. "You'll see it if you go straight that way."
"Over there? Sorry, we're going to use it for a while. Hey, Father, lean on my shoulder!" Esther suggested.
Glaring in the direction Ion pointed, Esther began to walk, dragging the peaked-faced priest. The sole person remaining watched pensively as the two shadows faded into the red scenery while discussing something.
"Sheesh," Ion sighed. Sulking, he thought to himself, / racked my brains over that. . . .
There wasn't a hidden motive in what he'd said to Esther. Ion was an Imperial nobleman, and she was only a Terran. It was a proposal of pure advice. Or was it?
"It can't be helped, even if I think of her fondly," said Ion.
Breathing deeply, Ion shook his head as if to shake off his thoughts. It was true that his Imperial decree wasn't fulfilled until he safely petitioned to see Her Majesty. Perking up his shoulders, Ion placed his hand on the front door.
Ion's return home this time was top secret. Before he introduced the two members of his party directly, he had to have a little talk with his grandmother. Pushing open the door with the Moldova family crest — the Unicorn Rampant — he announced his arrival as if he were a child sneaking back into his home after a late night.
"Grandmother, it's Ion. I've just returned," said Ion.
Wondering whether his grandmother would be surprised by his sudden reemergence, Ion prepared himself for her to greet him with a slightly disagreeable, but affectionate face. Several relatives had raised him since his mother had died in his infancy, but among them, his grandmother had particularly loved him. Surely, she would be pleased by the success of his duty.
In spite of his curiosity, Ion didn't hear a response.
The inside of the mansion was dyed red.
II
Bright red pools of liquid let off steam, indicating the substance was still warm. Severed limbs and pieces of bodies were strewn throughout the drafty hall. Atop a steaming red rug, a number of severed heads with beautiful but vacant stares rolled around like strange fruit.
"Wha?!" Ion cried.
Ten seconds had passed, and Ion was still frozen in the same position he was in when he opened the door. When his brain finally regained a portion of its functionality, Ion noticed that all of the severed heads had the same face, that of a young woman who was stunning but lacking vitality. And it wasn't the smell of blood that wafted from the red liquid staining the floor; it was an oily, metallic smell.
"Th-these are automata? But this is . . ." Ion choked.
The automata, delicate enough to be mistaken for humans at first glance, were proof of the wealth of a great lord. However, there weren't merely a few remains sunk in a sea of subcutaneous circulation fluid. Ion groaned as he stared at them. There were at least ten. Ion couldn't understand who in the world had destroyed so many—and why.
Looking away from the brutally severed heads, Ion concluded, "That's it! Grandmother! My grandmother!"
His grandmother, Mirka, Duchess of Moldova, didn't have citizens in her mansion, probably because she was a very eccentric woman. "Because I don't want to shower my feelings on Terrans, who die right away," she'd said.
It was careless to rely only on automata in this large mansion. Again and again, Ion had advised her to summon loyal citizens from their domain, but that stubborn, arrogant, willful old woman wouldn't listen to advice from a grandchild. After all, the Duchess of Moldova was first among Imperial nobility. It would be difficult to guess the rebels who'd try to kill her.
"Grandmother! Where are you, Grandmother?" Ion bellowed. His heart seized by fear and impatience, Ion shouted again. But his voice just echoed vainly down the corridors connected by a gentle arch.
Suddenly, a noise reverberated. Ion strained his ears at the sounds echoing from the ceiling. It was the sound of many hard boots.
"Grandmother!" cried Ion. Too impatient to run up the stairs, he pushed against the floor and thrust up as though he'd sprouted wings. Landing on the second floor, he charged down the wide corridor, where he was sure he'd heard the boots. Only his grandmother's bedroom was there.
As he kicked down the door and leapt into the bedroom, Ion wailed, "Grandmother! Are you all right, Grandmo — "
The young man's face twisted.
"Th-these are . . ." he mumbled.
The room, decorated with a blue mosaic and a carpet, was simple for the bedroom of the highest nobility in the Empire. The only pieces of furniture that stood out were a washbasin placed next to the entrance, and a desk. The windows facing the terrace were wide open, and a sea breeze from the Halic made the curtains tremble.
But now, the stench of subcutaneous circulation fluid filled the room, nearly making Ion choke. The remains of obliterated automata rolled about the normally spotless room. The walls had changed color to red-black, splattered by the abhorrent fluid.
It wasn't the gruesome sight that caused Ion's face to blanch, however. Three human figures stood surrounding the main bed in the middle of the room. Their entire bodies were cloaked in black Outer-style military overcoats, and their faces were hidden under helmets and gas masks. No matter how he tried, Ion would never forget the look of death itself modeled in human form.
The droplets rolling off the bright red-stained bed, combined with the giants' hefted battleaxes, cleared Ion's consciousness momentarily, allowing the nightmare he'd witnessed in Carthage to briefly enter his mind.
"DAMN YOU!" Ion roared as sharp fangs protruded from his upturned lips. The strongest fighting creature on Earth — the Methuselah boy — unsheathed the short sword at his hip without hesitation. "How dare you, my grandmother. Unforgivable! I absolutely won't forgive you!"
Although the young man's features had transformed into those of a demon, the three massive men didn't show any signs of flinching. Instead, they turned toward the boy with a swiftness that belied their huge size, each raising his weapon and assuming battle stance. Actually, only two of the men lifted their axes; the third had his head pulverized along with his axe before he could get into position.
"One!" shouted Ion.
As the large man collapsed, his brains spewing uncontrollably, Ion's shadow suddenly burst out of nowhere, grasping his unsheathed blade. He used a special power unique to Methuselahs that stimulated all the nerves in his body, giving him a reaction speed much faster than he normally possessed. Because his body was in overdrive, it resembled no more than a faint shadow, but it was all-powerful. He thrust out his weapon so ferociously that it sounded like the scream of an evil spirit as it slashed the face of the second man.
"Two!" Ion proclaimed.
The center of the second man's gas mask pierced his nasal cartilage, and the sword completely destroyed his brain matter. Tugging blood and brains from the back of the monster's head along with it, Ion yanked out the blade and kicked the limp figure, causing it to hurtle across the room.
"Three," Ion continued as he thrust the point of his sword toward the giant, who had his back turned to Ion. The attack, executed with exquisite speed and timing, was destructive enough to pulverize the third man's heart. It was already too late when Ion noticed that, to his surprise, the last figure standing before him was merely a shadow.
"Argh, these monsters have that ability, too?" said Ion.
Having weathered the battle in Carthage, Ion should have known everything about their battle strength. But his fury seemingly robbed him of calm judgment.
Swiveling his head, Ion searched for the enemy who'd disappeared as if a mirage, when his body unexpectedly flew through the air following a blow to his side.
"Ow!" he cried.
The force of the blow was powerful enough to embed Ion's body deep into the wall after its fifteen-foot journey. If he hadn't instinctually raised his sword a half a second later, his body would have been cut in two and scattered onto the floor and ceiling. Regrettably, his good fortune only lengthened Ion's continued torment.
Buried in the broken wall, Ion groaned as his mouth leaked a stream of blood. Its color, strangely bright, probably meant that a broken rib had pierced his lung. Still unable to move, he watched closely as an ominous shadow appeared over his head.
"You!" Ion coughed. He ground his teeth so hard that his fangs nearly broke, but regardless of his hostility, his body didn't budge.
In contrast to the limp Ion, the giant stood almighty, towering over the young man. The massive figure slowly heaved his axe upward, preparing for its swift descent.
"Please escape, Your Excellency!" Esther cried.
If the barrage of bullets that accompanied the shrill voice hadn't struck the enemy's face, Ion's head would have become red and gray goo.
As she sprayed the enemy with a second round, watching the giant stagger, its helmet blown off, Esther shouted again. "What are you doing? Hurry! Run!"
The priest groaned as he rummaged through the belongings of one of the bodies that had collapsed earlier in the attack. "This is a bit grim, Esther. If this bunch is . . ."Abel began. As soon as he removed the giant's thick coat, he frowned at what was underneath it. "As I thought. Uh-oh! Esther, please tell the Count to escape quickly!"
"Esther . . . Father? My grandmother . . . My grandmother is . . ." Ion murmured, coughing weakly as he finally rose.
Ion's battered head gave him so much pain that he felt as though it would split in two. His eyes were clouded by blood, which nearly blinded him. He didn't even notice the giant next to him,-who had lost half his head, raising his axe.
"Your Excellency, be careful! Beside you!" Esther hollered.
One silver bullet, fired instantaneously, pierced the attacker's hip. This time the giant was sent reeling, so much so that he toppled over, shaking the ground. Facing upward, the wounded monster flapped its limbs like an insect that had been pinned down. It was possible that because part of his control system had been destroyed, he wasn't able to stand up.
"Count of Memphis, run! It's dangerous here!" Esther urged again.
But it wasn't Esther's voice that Ion heard as he stood dumbstruck. The priest, who stood up hurriedly, wailed a proverb in a shrill voice. "There are those who set traps to catch us, like casting nets to catch birds.' It's a trap! We've been caught in a trap!"
"Trap? What do you mean, trap, Father? Wait a minute! What are you doing?" Esther screamed as she was suddenly picked up.
Abel ran off at full speed, ignoring the girl's protests. Along the way, he grabbed the collar of the boy who stood floppily, like a rag doll.
Ion regained consciousness as soon as the reality of his companion's rather rude behavior set in. "Let me go, Father!" he insisted as he clawed and yelled in effort to free himself from Abel's grip. "Grandmother ... Grandmother!" Ion screamed.
"Please give up on your grandmother. Let's just get away from here quickly!" Abel yelled. It was the first time Ion had heard Abel speak in a serious tone the entire journey. "These guys intend to blow themselves up!"
At first, Ion couldn't understand what his companion was saying. It was when his gaze fell to the floor and he spotted the corpses of the large men he'd taken down, that he finally understood what Abel meant.
The assailants' coats were wide open, revealing their sturdy bodies. But what were those bags hanging against their chests like chain mail? There were countless bags, connected by threads. And Ion was certain that at the ends of the coats there were clocks ticking away.
"Bombs?" Ion exclaimed. His face looked absolutely petrified.
Abel continued to run toward the only window in the room, still clinging onto Ion and Esther. When he made it to the windowsill, he hurtled his body out the window. Immediately after the trio made their escape, there was a flash so bright that it seemed as though the sun had come crashing to the ground, followed by a shockwave so strong that one would've thought the atmosphere had imploded.
The hellfire incinerated the bedroom in an instant and caused a back draft that exceeded three thousand degrees. The air evolved into a transparent tsunami, swallowing everything in its midst.
"Gah!" moaned Abel, whose tall body struck the lawn of the front garden first, with a resounding splat.
One after the other, Ion and Esther landed on Abel's head.
"Owww!" the redheaded girl grimaced, tending to her aching bum. Teary-eyed, she asked, "Are you all right, Your Excellency? Are you hurt?"
"Um, yeah," Ion replied curtly. All he could muster was a rude answer. His eyes, gazing at the white flames, were glassy and expressionless.
The fire consumed the mansion with uncanny speed. Even a child could see that in the area where flames were visible, trying to fight the fire would be futile.
"What in the world happened? Grandmother . . . why in the world?" the boy nobleman, who'd lost his home and grandmother in the blink of an eye, muttered blankly.
Why had this happened? And what should he do now? Unable to collect his thoughts, he asked the tall shadow standing beside him. "Father Nightroad, what should I do now? What should I — "
"Be quiet!" Abel snapped, peering intently at their surroundings. Holding his finger in front of his lips, he said in a barely audible voice, "This is bad. There are too many. We're surrounded."
"Surrounded?" Ion repeated, unaware that there were still enemies among them.
The dire situation shook Ion back into reality. Turning his head in the direction Abel was staring, Ion scanned the scene, but all he saw were plants waving in the breeze and the dim sparkle of the sea. He couldn't see a trace of anything resembling an enemy.
"Father, how are we surrounded?" asked Ion.
Not half a second had passed when a few dozen people appeared in a spot that was previously unoccupied. Ion rubbed his eyes in disbelief wondering when and how the bodies had appeared.
Below the ominous red sunlight, the members of the group surrounding the trio appeared even more menacing in their scarlet armor and blood red capes. The crimson masks layered under low-hanging hats bore no expression. The figures' hands grasped weapons that resembled large hunting rifles, and immense swords hung at their hips.
"Ienichieri!" Ion howled, taking one step forward in spite of Abel and Esther's attempts to shield the young man. Speaking as though his throat was obstructed, Ion extended his hand toward the red soldiers.
"Ieni . . .What?" asked Esther.
"Palace Guards! I believe they are a Methuselah force under the Empress's direct command. But this is strange, because, according to what I've heard, they rarely leave the palace," Abel explained.
Abel and Esther continued to discuss the matter behind Ion's back when Ion called out to a large black man, the only one among the crimson soldiers whose face was unmasked.
"Lord Baybars! Aren't you Lord Baybars? You've arrived just in time! My home . . . My grandmother . . ." Ion's voice shook so much that it was almost piercing, but having lost an important member of his family and his home, it was unavoidable.
Baybars narrowed his steely eyes at the boy. "I denounce you, Ion Fortuna, Count of Memphis."
All of a sudden, bursting flames sent the soldiers' spine-chilling shadows back into the ground. The Chief of the Palace Guards didn't even bother brushing off the falling embers. Standing tall, he announced in a clear and resonant voice, "I arrest you in the name of the Empire and Her Majesty the Empress. The charges are the murder of the Duchess of Moldova and the burning of her mansion. Come quietly, Count of Memphis."
"What?" Ion exclaimed.
The sound of long swords being unsheathed pummeled Ion's eardrums as he stood gasping.
III
"The murder of the Duchess of Moldova? You're c-crazy!" Ion stammered.
The long sword with seven prongs sparkled like obsidian and bore the phrase, "He Who Breaks Spinal Cords." The reflection of Ion's face, twisted in amazement, consternation, and anger was visible in the weapon.
"You're suggesting I did this, Lord Baybars? That I, of all people, the Duchess of Moldova's grandson, harmed my own grandmother?" Ion wailed defensively.
"You had better refrain, Count of Memphis," Baybars warned. His expression was calm but vengeful as he pointed the sword toward the boy.
"Multiple eye-witnesses spotted you entering the mansion earlier. And then there was a conflagration immediately afterward. Isn't that enough for you to be a suspect?" asked Baybars.
"I-I didn't do it! By the time I returned home, the rebels were already in the house," said Ion.
"Rebels?" Baybars replied.
The Palace Guards remained silent and as still as dolls. Standing in the center of the guards, Baybars said gravely, "Then I will ask you, Count of Memphis. Where are those rebels now? And why did you sneak back into the Imperial capital, despite being entrusted with an Imperial decree? Why didn't you return openly and visit the Celestial Imperial Palace? Can I get you to explain so that I can understand?"
"That's ..." Ion was at a loss for words.
He, Abel, and Esther had defeated all of those rebels, leaving their corpses in the fire. Even if they had seized them, they couldn't get testimony from corpses.
"It seems as though words have failed you," Baybars pointed out. His black eyes, reminiscent of burnt steel, moved from Ion, who was frozen stiff, to the Terrans behind the boy. "As an Imperial noble, it isn't my intention to create a big to-do. We should arrest all of the Terrans in the same fashion. If not, we should kill them here."
"K-kill . . . kill me?" Ion shrieked. He had endured unbelievably bad luck, and now there was this humiliation. Raising his sword, he shouted hysterically, "Don't joke while unjustly accusing someone, servant!"
"No, Your Excellency!" said Abel. The panicked priest tried to restrain Ion from behind, but by that time, the young man's body had entered haste mode, and had disappeared leaving only a dim outline. A stack of white smoke billowed quickly toward the row of Palace Guards in the place he'd been standing.
"You all, don't interfere," Baybars ordered, his eyes fixed on the white smoke kicked up by the Methuselah during haste transition. He refused to lose his nerve. Agilely grasping his prized sword, he declared fearlessly, "Regrettable. If you had studied for the next hundred years, you might have become a master!"
Before Baybars' eyes, the boy reappeared like a phantom only fifteen feet away, grasping his naked sword. At the same time, Baybars swung down the black sword, "He Who Breaks Spinal Cords," causing a peculiar sound.
Had the Chief of the Palace Guards, of all people, misjudged the distance to his enemy? The seven-pronged blade hit the ground, but completely missed Ion, who, with unwavering steadiness, waited for the black blade to pass him before thrusting his sword at his attacker.
A second later, it was Ion who was propelled in the opposite direction by the dangerous weapon. His entire body was forced backward as though an invisible sword had hit it. His strong frame flitted weightlessly through the air like a feather on the breeze. If he were a Terran, he would have undoubtedly fallen to his death. But using the skills innate to Methuselahs, he rounded his body like a cat and succeeded in landing unscathed.
Examining the blade of his sword, Ion's lips trembled in horror. "What now?"
Large cracks etched through the reinforced titanium blade, which was sharp enough to cut iron. It was the doing of the invisible sword from before. If Ion hadn't intercepted it with his short sword, his trunk would have been severed.
"I'll warn you once, boy," said Baybars in a hush.
Ion leapt sideways. He tried to gain distance from Baybars, who was closing in on him, brandishing his seven-pronged sword, but the Palace Guards Chief didn't follow. Instead, he swung down his sword toward his prey.
"Battle isn't merely wrangling from the front. Except for cases where there's a considerable difference in actual ability, you mustn't start attacking when your own life is at risk. Especially if you don't even know what's in your opponent's hand," said Baybars.
As Baybars spoke, Ion saw the seven prongs of "He Who Breaks Spinal Cords" flash blue-white. Instinctively, Ion heaved his sword in front of his body, saving his own life once again.
The seven-pronged blade had produced an electromagnetic field that allowed it to attack the boy invisibly.
Ion's eyes widened with disbelief as he watched his blade break cleanly. Meanwhile, Baybars' countenance was stony as he thrust the seven-pronged blade at the boy, still gripping the remnants of his weapon.
"The match is over. You've lost, boy," said Baybars. He spoke not as if he were an egotistical man boasting of his victory, but rather as a conscientious teacher. Drawing the seven-pronged sword back into his hand, Baybars lifted its tip to his face. "If you call yourself an Imperial nobleman, you should surrender."
Ion flinched. I'll be killed! he thought. Shutting his eyes, he imagined his head being lopped off and the trail of blood that would be left behind, a vision that made him close his eyes even tighter.
Suddenly, one of the Methuselahs who hadn't yet fought shouted out, "Keep your eyes closed!" Abel, who'd been doing something in the background, threw a small bag he'd had in his hand since looting the attackers' corpses into the air. The red soldiers' eyes followed the bag as it flew overhead in an arc, scattering white powder. The next instant, it exploded with a flash of light.
Baybars seemed flabbergasted.
The Methuselahs' excellent vision now became their worst enemy.
The Ienichieri covered their eyes, their optic nerves burned by a light so intense that it appeared as though the sun had set directly on Earth. The rapid combustion of potassium permanganate, a powerful oxidizing agent, and powdered aluminum dust created a storm of fireballs from above. It was the same lethal combination that had burned down the Duchess of Moldova's mansion.
"Now, Your Excellency!" cried Abel as he lifted an old-fashioned revolver that was still smoldering. He darted toward the petrified Ion, pulling Esther, who was groaning with her eyes covered, along with him. "What are you waiting for? Escape now!"
"Escape?" said Ion. "But, Father, I haven't done anything wrong."
There had to be some mistake. This kind of thing shouldn't be happening.
Abel grasped Ion's hand and made him stand up. "God says, 'Run! Save your own life!' If you're killed here, you won't be able to clear your name!"
"Ugh!" Ion cringed.
For once, what the priest said was right. The difference between their fighting abilities was undeniable. Ion shook his head as if to rid it of regrets. Glaring at Abel as if he were the enemy, he said, "Hang on! Father! Esther!"
Suddenly, the outlines of Ion's small shadow grew blurry, the nerves throughout his body protesting his previous overuse of haste mode. Trying to keep his nerves at bay, Ion forcefully kicked the ground in effort to escape.
"I won't let you escape, traitor!" Baybars grumbled.
The black blade glistened and appeared to have expertly cut the boy's shadow in half.
"Hmmm, he's good at escaping," Baybars said, realizing his weapon had been unsuccessful.
Still holding his sword downward, the black Methuselah laughed quietly as he examined deep footprints in the ground. A scrap of black uniform rested on the floor next to the blade, but neither the boy's corpse nor any sign of his companions were apparent.
"There is little hope for him ... no matter how far he goes," said Baybars.
Despite the fact that the enemy—a traitor who'd killed a senior statesperson—had escaped, there was no sign of discouragement on Baybars' face. On the contrary, he wore a satisfied smile as he talked to himself.
"Now the curtain has risen. Dance well, boy," said Baybars.
IV
"Urgh!" Esther moaned. They had plummeted with considerable speed, so it was lucky that they landed on a sandy beach, or they wouldn't have gotten away with minor scratches.
"Owww! I-I thought I was going to die," said Esther, moaning weakly as she tried to make her sand-covered body sit upright.
The trio had no idea how far away from the Duchess of Moldova's mansion they were. All they could see were the waves quietly crashing against the shoal.
Standing up, treading on the white sand that had absorbed the shock of the group's fall, Esther called to her companions. "Are you all right, Father? Your Excellency the Count?"
"I am . . . somehow. Count, are you okay?" asked Abel.
Silence greeted the priest's question.
Buried up to his shoulders in a sand dune, Ion didn't try to stand up. His four limbs twitched independent of one another.
"Oh, no. Please hang on, Your Excellency!" Esther pleaded. Flustered, she ran to the exhausted Methuselah and cleared the sand from his child-like body. To her horror, he was still straining to breathe.
It was not unusual for a Methuselah to fall victim to exhaustion after engaging haste mode. The abnormal amounts of potassium and sodium that were secreted in the state caused inflammation of all the body's nerves; the brain; and the muscles, which fall into a blood-depleted state and lose their strength from malnutrition. Ion's pain would torment him for some time.
But there was nothing Esther could do now. All anyone could do was wait for the Methuselah's body to recover naturally over time.