Three curses were in pursuit. The most powerful of these was the Spiritfolk's curse. Then there was Marina's Wailing—and the Dark Knight of unknown origin that had manifested alongside it. The mingled miasma had coalesced into black clouds, gnawing away at the skies above the Imperial Capital.
The Treasure Hall did house Phantoms without physical forms, but Tinno had hardly ever fought anything like them. If they'd been just a bit—or rather, significantly—weaker, he might have called it good experience, but this time, the danger level was so far beyond acceptable limits it wasn't even close.
Mastaa, aren't you overestimating me way too much? I'm nothing more than a speck of dust—and besides, if that fraud of a handsome guy couldn't take them down, how on earth am I supposed to manage anything, Mastaa!
While desperately trying to control K-kun, Tinno glanced at the Master, who was dangling about as casually as ever.
The Master hadn't so much as cracked that composed expression of his, even in a time like this.
Was he hatching some scheme beyond Tinno's imagination? That was always how it went with him—facing situations that should mean certain death, somehow scraping by at the last possible moment. But knowing that didn't make the fear any less real. One shouldn't have to brush against death this frequently, Tinno thought.
He'd been clinging to a thin shred of hope that Ark and the others might manage to defeat their pursuers, but even the Hero apparently couldn't do it. In the first place, enemies with high durability, impervious to barriers, and relentless in their pursuit of the Master without a moment's hesitation—there was simply nothing to be done about that.
"It's tough being popular."
"Mastaa, your—your form again!"
At the gate of the Luminous Spirit Church, a black mass had appeared atop it. The mass writhed and squirmed, shifting its shape once again.
The Spiritfolk bore the epithet "Guardians of the Forest." The deep reaches of the great forests were places humans seldom ventured into, but in the Spiritfolk cities hidden within those vast woodlands, the Spiritfolk formed bonds of kinship with all manner of flora and fauna, borrowing their strength to safeguard the forest.
The Spiritfolk rarely spoke about themselves, but according to legend, a truly skilled Guardian of the Forest could borrow power even from Monsters to repel intruders. Perhaps "borrowing power" had actually referred to magical transformation.
What the curse had now reshaped itself into was—a dragon. A pitch-black dragon. A Dark Dragon with wings like blades.
It was roughly two sizes smaller than the monkey from before, but that was no consolation. That form was a form built for flight. Riding upon it were the Dark Knight and Marina's Wailing. Tinno had never seen anything like it.
"It's a dragon! It's a dragon!"
"...It's going to fly?"
Of course it would fly. It was a dragon—moreover, though it was a curse given shape, this was no absurd hot-spring dragon.
Amid the dark clouds summoned by the miasma, the Dark Dragon spread its vast wings and soared into the sky. Screams erupted across the Imperial Capital at a sight that could only evoke the end of the world. Even if—by some miracle—they managed to quell this chaos unscathed, the damage might already be irreversible...
The knights defending the Capital were visible as well, but for some reason, there were clearly fewer of them than usual. Bringing that thing down with ground-based attacks alone would be difficult to begin with—but still.
If the Master's elaborate scheme failed and he was taken out, the dragon's wrath would certainly not subside. The fate of the Imperial Capital was, without question, in the Master's hands.
Tinno had to do what he could as well— "Mastaa, where shall I take you!? I swear—I will carry you there myself!"
"Oh? Wait, isn't that Citry?"
"Huh!? Ah—"
Tinno looked in the direction the Master was pointing. Just then, Sister Citry was stepping out of a plain, bulky building set back from the main avenue.
It was hard to tell because she wore a clunky gas mask that completely engulfed her head, but there was no mistaking her. The person with her was likely a fellow alchemist from the Primus Magical Academy.
With one hand still gripping K-kun, Tinno searched his memories.
What had that building been again... Right. That was the entrance to the Imperial Capital's underground sewer system.
The entrance to the dreaded sewer system, said to be laid out like a labyrinth, was a place where Monsters and other creatures lurked and accidents occurred regularly. Tinno remembered being terrified of it as a child.
It was a place no one ever went willingly. What business did Sister Citry possibly have in a place like that...
Well, regardless, Tinno followed the Master's instructions and kept K-kun close.
Sister Citry's eyes went wide for an instant at the sudden appearance of Tinno and the Master on a carpet, but once she pulled off her gas mask, a blooming smile spread across her face.
"Klye, perfect timing! I was just conducting a survey of the ecology and water quality of the underground sewers! I made a wonderful discovery down there—and I'd love to run some experiments with Strawberry Blaze, but..."
"Hm... I've quite a bit to say on the matter, but that can wait. What comes first is confirming the effects of the domination potion."
She'd just witnessed the sweat-drenched Tinno arrive on a carpet and the Master dangle his way over, and this was the reception she gave them. Did every single alchemist share the trait of losing themselves entirely whenever something caught their interest?
And the three-piece curse set would be upon them at any moment— "O-oh?"
Even the Master was wide-eyed and momentarily struck speechless at Sister Citry's enthusiastic welcome.
Come on, Mastaa. Say it! Tell Sister Citry you need her to do something about those curses!
Sister Citry shot Tinno a disapproving look for a moment, then latched onto the arms of the Master, who remained utterly relaxed despite the situation. It seemed she wasn't pleased that Tinno had shown up with the Master. But if the sight of the desperate Tinno and the lounging Master looked like a date to her, then Sister Citry's eyes were nothing but knotholes.
And then, Sister Citry said with a radiant smile: "As expected, the potion was diluted and lost its effectiveness, but—I discovered an urban legend! I'm sure you'll be interested, Klye. There was a dragon living in the underground sewers—a Sewer Dragon! If the effects of the Strawberry Blaze are real, it should obey your every command—"
Sew...er... dra...gon???
A roar of curses thundered from behind, and for the first time, Sister Citry looked up at the sky. Bearing down on them from behind was a pitch-black dragon that had taken death itself for its form.
Before the unfamiliar words could freeze Tinno in place, the Master suddenly snapped his fingers as if struck by an idea.
...Are you serious right now, Mastaa...?
§ § § At that impossibly foolish notion, irritation surged before amusement even had a chance.
To think they would try to unleash a different kind of curse against this Spiritfolk—it truly proved that, since time immemorial, humans had been foolish beyond comprehension. But that man, in particular, seemed to be the densest fool among his kind.
In the first place, the two cursed entities the man had released and set upon them were powerful, but even in a head-on battle, they were no match for It.
Those two curses had clearly diminished in power. By Its reckoning, those curses had likely been far more potent entities until very recently.
Having been bound together, the grudge shared by the two curses was fading.
This was evident from the Knight having stood before the Woman to protect her. Curses, by their very nature, lost power when their target disappeared—when there was no longer a grudge to sustain them. That was one approach to the purification of curses.
The reason It had taken them as companions rather than destroying them was partly because those curses were not valid targets for Its attacks—and partly to show this man, who still showed barely any sign of fear even now, the consequences of his own foolish scheme.
And that had been half a success, half a failure. The man was startled, but he was not afraid.
When he'd even fled the Luminous Spirit Church on a carpet, leaving his companions behind, even It had been shaken enough to falter for a moment.
The odds would have been far better for him at the Luminous Spirit Church. Had he thrown away the fight, or did he still have some scheme up his sleeve?
The motley rabble could wait. It would annihilate them. It would not let them escape.
There were many far more troublesome opponents than that man, but right now, It had no time for them.
It transformed into a winged form and gave chase after the man flying at high speed on his carpet, accompanied by the two curses It had newly subjugated.
The female curse didn't seem particularly inclined to actually kill the man.
Was it because the opponent lacked all fighting spirit and ambition? Or had he somehow earned her pity?
Mediocre. Far too mediocre a spirit. Though it was true that maintaining absolute non-resistance could, in some cases, be the most effective strategy against a curse.
But none of that mattered now. It let out a roar.
May ruin befall that man. May a curse befall his life.
This irritation was certainly partly the ring's power at work, but fundamentally, a human man wearing a ring created by the Spiritfolk was absolutely inexcusable.
The man dashed into the plain, old building. Foolish. Impossibly foolish. He was the very embodiment of humanity.
Attempting to shelter himself in a structure of that caliber against It—for whom even the Luminous Spirit Church's barrier was meaningless—just as It was about to blow it away in a single breath, It suddenly noticed the countless life forces converging from below.
Some large, some small. Insects, small creatures. And mixed in among those presences—a great life's radiance.
Suddenly, the building shook, and the metal gate burst apart.
Through the gate emerged a single dragon with filthy gray skin. Its hide had been toughened by polluted water, its spine bristling with thorns. Its eyes had degraded from long years spent in darkness, unable to catch the light.
Behind it followed countless creatures—rats, bats, young goblins, all manner of creatures commonly found in the forest.
From underground. Was it controlling the animals and Monsters that had taken up residence beneath the city? What manner of technique— "CHARGE! Sewer Dragon!"
From inside the building, the man was shouting. Despite the shouting, his voice held absolutely no fighting spirit.
What on earth was he planning? This was never going to become a proper battle. But the thought of indulging his little scheme was equally infuriating.
Dialogue with Monsters, beasts, and flora was the Spiritfolk's forte.
It wheeled its great body around and reverted to its original living form. The two curses, robbed of their foothold, touched down on the ground.
Whether by instinct they sensed the gap in power, when the sewage-stained dragon saw It and Its two companions, it took a step back as if overwhelmed.