He roped in a few casual acquaintances and led them deeper into the prison.
Of the inmates housed on East Seal Prison Island, just under half had fallen under the Serpent's banner — but most of them had only joined after being locked up. Normally, the Serpent was a combat-oriented organization, and they'd be reluctant to take in anyone without the fighting chops to match. But in times like these, beggars couldn't be choosers.
That said, the island held heavy criminals shipped in from across the globe, and even among the newcomers who'd recently sworn allegiance, there were pieces worth playing.
The former leader of the Barrel Thieves was one of the top fighters among the Serpent's latest recruits.
"Geoff. You said you were captured by the Mourning Specter, didn't you?"
"...What do you want."
A sharp gaze. Killing intent crackled through the air like static.
A bare room with nothing in it but a bed. Inside were Geoffroy Barrel — leader of the former Barrel Thieves — and what surrounded him: an absurd number of tree frogs.
He'd heard rumors about the Barrel Thieves back when the organization was still thriving. A combat-heavy outfit from the East. They'd rampage through a town, and the moment a pursuit force was assembled, they'd slip across the border and repeat the whole charade somewhere else. Real nuisance.
If nearly all of Geoffroy's subordinates hadn't been turned into frogs, he'd毫无疑问 have wielded far greater influence on this prison island.
Yes — frogs.
Incredibly, every last soldier of the Barrel Thieves had been transformed into frogs from the moment they set foot on the island.
Even Himuro, a fellow mage, could hardly believe such a spell existed. But when you were locked up alongside a mountain of frogs, you had no choice but to accept the reality.
"Rejoice — the leader of that Mourning Specter has been captured. He's right here, right now. You'd want revenge, wouldn't you?"
"..."
A light flickered in Geoffroy's dark eyes.
He didn't answer Himuro right away. He was probably trying to judge whether the information was legitimate.
That shrewdness hiding behind the rough exterior was one of Geoffroy's strengths.
"You know Thousand Transformations' face, right? If it's a fake, we can dispatch them easily, and if it's the real thing, they might know how to turn your men back."
"...Hmph. Fair enough."
Most of the Barrel Thieves' members who'd been turned into frogs were still frogs. Apparently, they knew it could be reversed but didn't know how.
Even Himuro — a mage who ranked fairly high in the underworld — didn't know this spell, so it had to be the work of Boundless Myriad.
Naturally, Thousand Transformations, Boundless Myriad's brother, would know how to restore them to human form.
Geoffroy, who'd been slumped against the wall, hauled himself to his feet.
"I'll play along. If my reputation as the frog-whisperer gets around, nobody's gonna follow me anymore."
Says you. You wanted payback against every last person who mocked you about that.
Over two meters tall and built like a fortress. Even without Mana Material, that oppressive presence hadn't faded one bit. Armed or unarmed, he could kill with his bare hands. Geoffroy Barrel was unquestionably one of the few inmates on this island who could still fight.
When Himuro — the Blue Serpent's most trusted blade — and Barrel's boss, who'd purged anyone stupid enough to test him the moment he arrived, walked side by side, nothing stood in their way.
In the maze-like corridors of the prison, quality trumped quantity. Especially when wide-area spells left you no room to dodge — the very reason Himuro had lost before.
His subordinates had already pinpointed the location of Thousand Transformations' group.
Even after successfully seizing food from the organization, no prisoner was willing to oppose the Serpent or ally with its enemies.
Belonging to neither the Fox nor the Serpent meant, in most cases, that these people lacked the conviction to do anything purposefully — or that neither organization had considered them worth recruiting.
"Hey, lady. Beyond here is our territory. Or do you have business with us?"
Before they reached the room where Thousand Transformations was supposed to be, a man leaning against the wall called out to them.
A man in middle age. Reddish-brown hair, a scruffy beard he clearly hadn't bothered to trim. Eyes still blazing with vigor — a sign he hadn't been on the island all that long.
"Jack the Bloodsoaked, hm... You'll do."
An ability that stolen Mana Material through blood.
On paper it sounded formidable, but it wasn't all that special in practice. Even ordinary humans absorbed a bit of Mana Material when they defeated a Phantom.
Sure, being able to steal it just by bathing in someone's blood was unusual, but he'd probably used stockpiled Mana Material to enhance that kind of ability. There had to be an upper limit on how much he could take — and more critically, the ability carried a fatal weakness.
It was useless unless he could draw the opponent's blood first.
"The old man of the Blue wants you. Come quietly and you won't get hurt."
"Good grief. My data suggested the Yamata no Orochi was a somewhat more intelligent organization... Charging in here with just the two of you, with no preparation to speak of — I seem to have overestimated you."
A tall young man in glasses stepped forward and replied.
The reports said Thousand Transformations had three followers. This one must be Grand. There was also supposed to be a woman named Zack, but she was nowhere in sight. Smarter than the other two, perhaps?
Revenge really should have been planned more carefully. Letting those who defied the organization go would make them look weak, but botching a retaliatory strike would cause damage a hundredfold worse.
"What choice do we have? Our crew — the Serpent — got shattered by Thousand Transformations' Party, the Mourning Specter. Normally we'd negotiate, but that ship has sailed."
"What!? That bastard... He told us he had nothing to do with any of that!"
"...My data doesn't cover this either."
These two... hadn't been briefed at all?
Or perhaps Thousand Transformations really was an impostor. The real Thousand Transformations was supposed to be a master strategist — someone who wouldn't throw subordinates into danger for no reason.
From Himuro's perspective, the lack of composure in these two was obvious.
They'd been sent to the island, so their abilities were clearly above average, but they hadn't risen above the level of slightly talented individuals. Himuro, who'd clawed his way through massive organizations, had seen his share of monsters.
Geoffroy furrowed his brow and spoke in a low voice.
"Where is Thousand Transformations? I'm looking for Thousand Transformations."
His attention wasn't on the two in front of him at all. Either they were beneath his notice, or his grudge against Thousand Transformations ran that deep.
Himuro sighed, waved a hand, and said: "Calm down. I was planning to take these two alive. If they were dangerous I'd have killed them on the spot, but —"
"What...?"
A feint. He'd meant to crush them if they posed a threat, but they turned out to be less than he expected.
At this level, he could leave them alive and do whatever he pleased with them.
Take down these two, then freeze whoever was in the room — Thousand Transformations.
It would be a replay of the humiliation Himuro had suffered once before.
Whether the target was the genuine article or not could be verified at leisure afterward.
For the first time in ages, he began composing a spell. Stored power poured out all at once.
This prison island was hell for mages. Every spell cast here dramatically accelerated the rate of Mana Material loss. But he held nothing back.
"'White Embrace'"
"—!?"
Geoffroy launched himself backward, putting distance between them in a flash.
Good reflexes. If Himuro and the others had reacted the same way back then, they wouldn't have ended up in such a sorry state.
"What—!?"
"This is—"
The cold that raced across the floor and through the air stripped the warmth from Jack and Grand, encasing them in ice in a heartbeat.
The shockwave of cold continued past them, through the room where Grand had emerged from, all the way to the far end.
The same ice attack magic Boundless Myriad had once used to subjugate the Serpent. It carried a significant risk — its fine control was lacking, and it could catch allies in its path — but countering a spell fired off without any preparation time was extremely difficult.
Himuro had never been able to counter it back then. Could Thousand Transformations, Boundless Myriad's brother, do any better?
"You..."
Geoffroy instinctively reached toward Himuro, then immediately retracted his arm.
A thick layer of frost had already formed on it in an instant. Himuro glanced at Geoffroy and smiled.
"You got out of the way, so you're fine. Could've been worse."
Jack and Grand remained frozen in expressions of pure shock. Neither was dead yet, technically.
Probably because they still had Mana Material left. But that was all — they were alive and nothing more.
If he wanted to finish them off, he could do it at any moment.
"Absolute Ice, huh... Not bad. But the real issue is Thousand Transformations."
Himuro barely heard Geoffroy's words, lost in a trance.
He swore — his Absolute Ice was nowhere near its peak.
He'd been locked up on this island for half a year, and the ultimate art of mages — summoning a contracted spirit to borrow its power — was impossible here. The ice spirit he'd painstakingly contracted couldn't be called to this extraordinarily hostile land.
But the spell he'd just cast had no flaws. He'd done everything he could.
He'd given it his all. He was confident it was on par with Lucia Roje's own attack magic.
And yet— "...You're — the real thing. What the hell are you?"
The most intense chill he'd ever felt — something he'd never encountered in any of the countless deadly situations he'd faced before.
The overwhelming sense of insignificance, as though he were nothing but dust.
Geoffroy was frowning. A non-mage wouldn't be able to perceive the difference in class.
Even through the thick door, the presence was unmistakable. His body trembled.
But it wasn't fear.
"A spirit... and it's at least three ranks above my Freesia."
He couldn't believe it. The fact that a spirit clearly leagues above the upper-class spirit Himuro had struggled to contract even existed — and that this spirit was still bound to its caster, clinging to them through this hellscape.
Spirits normally dwelled in places rich with high-density Mana Material, absorbing it to sustain themselves. This prison island, however, had no Mana Material to speak of — it was a place that actively stripped it away.
This land was hell not just for mages but doubly so for spirits. An ordinary spirit couldn't even maintain its form here for long, and even a spirit with an extended contract with a mage wouldn't come willingly.
Under normal circumstances.
But Thousand Transformations had a spirit by their side — one that endured this island where breathing was impossible and its very existence burned away continuously, suffering agony yet refusing to leave its caster's vicinity.
This wasn't even in the same league as Boundless Myriad. A direct comparison wasn't even necessary.
He couldn't win.
The fact that this mage had contracted a spirit of this caliber meant the gap in their abilities was too vast.
"This is impossible. We're pulling out."
"What about these two?"
"Leave them."
He answered without hesitation. Having sensed the spirit's presence, Himuro saw Geoffroy as far too complacent about the danger.
The relationship between Thousand Transformations and these two was unclear, but if they tried to drag them along now and got pursued, instant death was the only outcome.
For that matter, a mage capable of commanding a spirit of this magnitude wouldn't even be bothered by Jack and Grand. With or without them, it made no difference — pure statistical noise.
Retreat was the only option this time, but that didn't mean there was zero chance of winning.
Thousand Transformations' spirit was having its life force continuously drained by the Ley Lines. Even a spirit of that caliber would soon be unable to maintain its form.
Of course, Thousand Transformations would release it before it vanished, but once drained, the power couldn't be restored quickly.
Once the spirit was gone, the fact that its caster had once contracted a spirit of that level didn't change — but the odds did. From zero percent to one percent, perhaps — but still.
At minimum, there was one thing Himuro understood clearly.
A single Level 8 inmate could change everything.
Why Thousand Transformations had ended up imprisoned on the island was unclear, but the plans the organization had built would have to be revised. Of that, he was certain.