Chapter 142: Turbulence (4)
Regardless of Orthes’s bewilderment, Niobe’s judgment was accurate. The False God, on the verge of being born, was not something that could be thwarted with a half-hearted resolve to preserve the Magic Tower’s foundation.
If Orthes himself had taken complete control of the entire Blasphemia unit and dismantled every component of the False God’s apotheosis ritual, things might have been different. But he lacked both the time and the means of communication for that.
Orthes swiftly grasped and accepted this reality.
‘The Amimone Tower is…’
The end of service.
Orthes squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it. What am I going to tell Kynemon?
‘Come to think of it, the original request was to erase this Magic Tower from existence. It’s gone just as they wished.’
Orthes wasn’t one to be whimsically granting wishes like a monkey’s paw, but Carisia’s invisible—*her stealth was active and truly made her unseen*—hand had recklessly cast magic onto the tower, bringing things to this point.
With a hollow laugh, Orthes glanced down at the ground, filled with a resigned sorrow over the Amimone Tower.
However, Nastion, observing the metamorphosis of the parasite, thought differently. That man had never cared about the “Amimone Tower” to begin with.
To bring in a strategic weapon the moment signs of metamorphosis appeared, stifling its growth and committing every reserve force to an all-out assault?
‘Did he know from the start?’
The idea that arose from the Mind Parasite’s last desperate struggle was simple: to transfer its metamorphosing host from a physical vessel to the Magic Core of the Amimone Tower.
The Magic Core housed in the tower was within the Ten Commandments’ sphere of influence. As long as its connection to the Commandments was maintained, even the religious devotees wouldn’t be able to detect it. Therefore, if they could slip in undetected just once, it could lead to an ambush on Orthes.
Luckily for Nastion, he knew of a discreet route for infiltration.
It was the lingering traces of Sprigo, who had perished in an earlier confrontation with Orthes.
Nastion had discerned that Sprigo had used the Angelification Elixir by observing the scars left throughout the city. The man had likely embedded himself as a silver tree, rooting into the city itself. Using the Silver Thread, he would have absorbed mana from the city’s mana pipes as his sustenance.
Though Panoptes had undertaken city repairs, they hadn’t had enough time to examine every part of Algoth’s underground facilities.
The mana pipes were surrounded by layers of alarm spells. But Sprigo, having taken control of the pipes, had ensured the Silver Thread would not be treated as a ‘foreign substance.’
Honoring the spirit of his unfortunate comrade, Nastion merged the Mental Parasite into a Silver Thread-fused Magic Core and let it flow back into the pipes.
The Mind Parasite traveled through the pipes and settled into the Magic Core of the Amimone Tower. Now, waiting only for the right time to metamorphose, it would strike Orthes—who was deeply engrossed in the Tower Lord’s Contest—at an opportune moment.
Nastion didn’t expect Orthes to die easily, but he thought he could at least deal a deep, hard-to-heal wound that would restrict Orthes’s movements.
That was assuming only the False God’s ambush was in play. If Nastion himself assisted from the shadows, the outcome could easily escalate from a lasting wound to death.
But then he saw this sight.
The moment the metamorphosis began, Orthes struck immediately. Nastion couldn’t help but think of a foreboding possibility.
If Orthes had possessed confidence in hunting down the False God from the very beginning…
The situation Orthes most dreaded would not be the showdown with the False God but rather the Mind Parasite’s endless expansion of its reserve terminals as a parasite. Without a priest like Bacchus, who specialized in handling minds, eradicating the parasite would be impossible.
However, if all its mental faculties were concentrated into one metamorphosing entity, then a single death would bring about permanent silence.
A trap had been covered with an even larger trap.
He had to change the situation at any cost.
Orthes’s figure came into view, looking down with a sneer of dark amusement. But it wasn’t simply at the ground.
It was deep below the surface. He was looking at the mana pipes, the route the Mind Parasite had used to infiltrate.
Was he analyzing the infiltration route to pinpoint the location of the parasite’s collaborator, Nastion himself?
If so, it was a mistake. Nastion had long fled after pushing the Silver Thread-fused Magic Core into the pipes.
‘…No.’
Over these past few days, the Divine Cult’s pursuit of him had noticeably diminished. Initially, he assumed it was due to the divine power drain exceeding the half-god’s restoration rate, necessitating some time to recuperate. Or perhaps they were preparing to unleash an even stronger divine power.
Considering the Divine Cult’s available respite and the nature of the ‘half-god,’ they would have stored up sufficient divine power to use a level beyond Saint—perhaps the Holy Spirit.
To trap the False God, obstruct it from overpowering Orthes in a contest of sheer strength, and then to annihilate the last remaining variable, Nastion, with stored divine power.
Despite the urgency of the situation, no pursuers from the Divine Cult had come to confront the False God. He would have to assume they were held in reserve specifically to target him if he wanted to survive.
Nastion’s survival instincts accelerated. While it seemed Orthes had taken control of the Blasphemia unit deployed in Algoth, it wasn’t as if he controlled all of Panoptes.
After all, chaos wasn’t a tactic exclusive to Orthes.
***
A construction site repurposed from redevelopment to demolition, thanks to my employer’s usual approach. As dizziness rose up, I looked down momentarily, spotting the chaotic disrepair of the underground infrastructure at a glance.
Signs of corrosion marred the mana pipes. I hadn’t thought much of it, attributing it to Sprigo’s prior bio-terrorism here.
But now, seeing the parasite’s surrealist piece on the Magic Core within the Amimone Tower, I realized what role the neglected mana pipes played in this mess.
Damn those Argyrion bastards. If you damage public facilities, at least fix them before leaving.
Infiltration via mana pipes. Mana pipes connected to the Magic Core. My eyes and formula overlay.
As I calculated my options, a thunderous shout that shook the ground resounded from behind me.
“A cultist───!!”
To the heart of the already chaotic Algoth City, yet another upheaval had arrived. Near the Amimone Tower. Kynemon, his Hydra Corporation sponsors, and their nominal employers, the Divine Cult, resided there.
The source of the shouting lay there.
Beyond my visual range, an image of a mage casting fire and lightning toward the lodgings appeared on my retina.
The mage was unremarkable: average height, wearing robes, wielding a staff with several engraved spell-drive slots—like the standard image of a modern mage.
But my eyes saw more than that. The essence beneath that human disguise—a dark, bubbling, shadow-like figure. Clearly not an ordinary human.
“…I’m going to lose my mind.”
The Mind Parasite had an ally.
***
Nastion couldn’t read Orthes’s expression. His eyes were narrow slits.
But he could detect that Orthes, unusually tense, had turned to face him. It must have been an unforeseen strike even for Orthes.
Orthes had mobilized the Blasphemia forces he controlled to preemptively suppress the False God. It was undoubtedly the correct choice.
But sometimes, precisely because it’s the “correct choice,” one’s defenses are left wide open. Just as he had opposed Halto’s expedition.
Nastion felt a rare swell of satisfaction deep within his heart.
The parasite’s relentless drain on the city’s mana to expedite its metamorphosis had caused even the barrier in the Tower Lord’s Contest arena to collapse. Other Panoptes agents, whom Orthes had sidelined under the pretense of supervising the trials, could now act.
With Panoptes agents mobilizing, the participants also began to take action to punish the Divine Cult. With the trials now invalid, they likely saw the opportunity to earn points by eliminating those defying the Ten Towers’ order.
If he couldn’t use the False God to eliminate Orthes, he would mount the most efficient attack possible while the False God bought him time.
Nastion knew well that the most ‘efficient’ assault wasn’t aimed at Orthes himself but at his forces.
If Hydra Corporation’s collusion with the Divine Cult were exposed under these circumstances, Orthes himself would be deemed an enemy of the Ten Towers.
As Nastion prepared his next spell to escalate the battle, he heard a clear voice, its refined tone utterly mismatched by the harshness of the words:
“That bastard! That damn bastard is pure evil!”
***
Kine had learned magic from Carisia and the Holy Incantations from the Divine Cult priests.
But those two were not her only teachers.
It wasn’t intentional, but while staying with Hydra Corporation, the two adults she conversed with most were Carisia and Orthes.
Just as Carisia had unconsciously adopted Orthes’s rhetoric, Kine, too, had observed Orthes closely.
The difference was that Kine’s observation was deliberate. After the scheme in Elysion, Kine paid close attention to Orthes’s every word and action.
And now, finally, with her mentors and old family friends under threat, something new, combining magic, the Holy Incantations, and rhetoric, was beginning to bloom.
Through magic, she eroded people’s resistance, twisted their minds’ direction through the Holy Incantations, and finally, wielded words to compel them to act.
Magic combined with the Holy Incantations—this skill was something beyond simple sorcery.
Its name was Politike Techne.
A secret that the god of revelry and chaos, Bacchus, would surely find delightful.
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