Beginning Footprint — top floor of the Clan House. In the Clan Master's room, where only the administrative staff and the Clan Master himself were permitted entry, I stood gazing down at my desk with a broad grin.
Five small humanoid figures, each about five centimeters tall, were racing across the desk surface.
They were exquisitely crafted, as though someone had taken real people and simply shrunk them down.
Each was dressed differently — a Mage, a Cleric, a Swordsman, a Thief, and an Alchemist. Their robes and armor concealed the finer details, but I had to give myself a pat on the back for pulling it off.
I rubbed the warm bracelet on my wrist and guided the figurines along the edge of the desk.
They weren't actual dolls — they were illusions, conjured using the Treasure Weapon I had just acquired, "Dancing Light and Shadow." The corner lines drawn on the desk and the small mountains were illusions too.
At first I couldn't get the shapes and colors right, but after several days of practice, I had managed to produce reasonably detailed humanoid illusions.
The Treasure Weapon itself probably had some built-in function to help supplement the user's imagination.
Still, watching my practice take shape like this was incredibly fun. The visuals were lively, and whether it was actually useful or not — as a hobby, there was probably no Treasure Weapon more entertaining.
I poked one of the illusions with my index finger and made it collapse dramatically. I made the others gesture in protest. I was controlling every one of them myself, yet it felt like I was commanding a troupe of tiny sprite servants. I couldn't stop grinning.
I wanted to show someone, but if anyone found out I was playing with dolls like this, my hard-boiled image would be shattered. Pity.
Next I conjured a tiny dragon small enough to sit in my palm. Not just one — two, three, four, I kept adding more. Each a different color, of course.
Back when I was still traveling with a party, I had encountered dragons numerous times. The details were a little rough, but it was more than enough for creating general illusions.
The dragons fluttered in circles above my head. I focused, trying to figure out how to make them fly more realistically.
The only weakness of this Treasure Weapon was its range — one meter and twenty centimeters. If it were a little wider, the possibilities would have expanded even further. I was curious whether a higher-grade version with a wider effective range existed somewhere.
Being illusions, they weren't affected by physical barriers. I flew a dragon through the window and out into the open air, but once it left the range, it dissolved into nothing.
"What a feeble dragon."
Well, it wasn't really the dragon's fault.
I was grinning away, flying my dragons around, when the Clan Master's room door suddenly burst open. I flinched involuntarily. It was Eva.
I didn't exactly have work to do, but being caught playing childish games would be embarrassing. I hurriedly dismissed the flying dragons.
Had I been a split second too late? Through her glasses, Eva's eyes were wide open.
"!? What — what was that just now?"
"...Nothing. You just startled me by barging in."
I was used to Liliz bursting in without warning, but Eva never knocking was unusual.
At my words, Eva blinked in confusion.
"Huh...? I did knock, though."
...I had been too busy flying dragons to notice at all. Maybe I really shouldn't be doing this in this room.
I didn't even need to ask what she was here for. Eva's hands were piled with an exhausting number of letters.
Originally, the Mourning Specter had received relatively few contacts from nobles compared to other high-level parties, but ever since the auction involving Lord Gradius, the number of letters had mysteriously increased.
For some inexplicable reason, word had gotten around on the scene that I had saved Lady Eclair. But it was Ark who saved her, not me...
If I were a Hunter with ambitions of advancement or someone seeking connections, I would gratefully accept letters from nobles. Unfortunately, I was the type of Hunter who wanted to retire. I would just politely decline every time.
If things really got dire, fleeing Zebuldia altogether was also on the table.
As I settled back into my chair and calmed my breathing, I noticed Eva's gaze had drifted to the desk. More specifically — to the tiny illusion I had forgotten to dismiss.
Eva looked up at me. Her expression suggested she was questioning my very sanity.
The little figure scrambled across the desk in a panic, then leaped off the edge toward me. I gave a small cough, crossed my legs in the chair, and struck a pose of cool nonchalance.
"So... what was it again?"
"??? You think you can just deflect that? What was that just now?!"
Eva circled around behind me and peered under the desk, but I had already dismissed the figure. There was nothing to find.
I decided to add "mysterious" to my hard-boiled persona. I clasped my hands together and gave a nihilistic smile.
"Heh... even I have my secrets."
"That's... something I'm well aware of, yes..."
Eva tilted her head repeatedly but then gave a large nod, as if forcing herself to accept it.
She cleared her throat, composing herself.
"This time there seem to be more letters from nobles than usual. If you could review them at some point —"
On the desk, she spotted a miniature version of me that had not been there a moment ago, raising both hands over its head to receive the letters. Eva's expression froze, and she slowly turned to look at me.
I nodded, and she carefully placed the letters onto the tiny hands — only for miniature Klye to be completely flattened by the weight.
Eva's face went pale. She quickly lifted the letters, but naturally nothing remained underneath. Miniature Klye had vanished, as if it were an illusion.
As if it were an illusion — well, it was an illusion.
"Huh? Um? I —"
"Oh, don't worry about it. So, what was it again?"
I returned a gentle smile to the uncharacteristically flustered Eva. This was so much fun...
--- In a dim corner of the Zebuldia Southwestern Decadent District — a place no sane person would willingly enter — Liliz Smart clicked her tongue in irritation.
"Ugh, honestly. This is exactly why I hate Arcane Societies. They never face you head-on..."
"The illegal Arcane Societies that survive tend to be cautious... The Tower of Akasha is probably the worst of the bunch, though..."
The reply came from Citry, her face hidden as deeply as possible beneath her hood.
Liliz and her group had been tracking Akasha's trail based on information they had fought over at the auction.
They had investigated the competing bidders at the auction, then the seller, and finally worked their way back from the Hunter who had won the "Akasha" auction — Gregg.
The Mourning Specter was accustomed to dealing with criminal organizations. Red Party harassment was a daily occurrence, and this was not the first time they had dismantled a criminal syndicate or Arcane Society.
But this time, their opponents were on a completely different level from the small fry they had faced before.
Before Liliz, three well-built men knelt on the ground.
Their bodies — forged through real combat — radiated the intimidation that only those who had absorbed vast quantities of Mana Material could project. Even through their worn armor, their capability was plain to see. The black-painted daggers, swords, and staves scattered on the ground were high quality — if purchased new, they would easily have cost well over ten million Gill.
The Imperial Capital was a holy land for Hunters. But wherever there was light, there was also darkness.
These men were ex-Hunters turned mercenary operatives — dark Hunters who took on law-breaking jobs, including violence, and operated in the shadows. Their combat abilities far exceeded the Hunter average, and they had become a recurring problem at the Imperial Capital's Explorer's Guild.
But in Liliz's view, they were nothing but dropouts. Hunters who had abandoned their true calling, fled from the Treasure Halls crawling with Monsters, Phantoms, and deadly traps, and chosen instead to prey on the weak. Losers.
She did not particularly object to preying on the weak, but there was no reason to fear losers who only ever picked fights with those beneath them.
The three kneeling men had their arms bound behind their backs, with paper bags over their heads. Their expressions were hidden, but their bodies were visibly trembling with tension, and the stench of sweat and blood filled the stuffy, narrow alley.
The targets had been professional operatives who always maintained vigilance and operated in groups, but knocking them out had been easy. Finding them had been the hard part.
But after all the effort of tracking them down, carefully subduing and capturing them alive without killing them, and interrogating them, the information Liliz had obtained was not what she had hoped for.
They had nothing connecting them to the client.
The commission method was by letter, with payment in advance. If the goods had been stolen, the client might have appeared in person, but it was too late to switch strategies now.
They did not seem to be lying.
Few could maintain silence under the killing intent of a high-level Hunter like Liliz, and Citry had administered a forbidden potion to break them. They had spilled personal details — names, family compositions, work histories — so it was not a matter of having built up a resistance.
Liliz's morale had cratered after learning that the past few days of investigation had been wasted. She grumbled to Citry.
"You were literally a member, and you know nothing? How is that possible?"
"It was strictly compartmentalized, and I was only planning to stay a little longer..."
At Liliz's words, Citry made a troubled expression beneath her hood.
The "Tower of Akasha" was an Arcane Society built on secrecy.
Expelled mages each pursued their own theories in isolation, with no communication between laboratories and no detailed information flowing in. Coordination personnel were assigned separately, and members essentially only knew about what happened within their own lab.
Citry had participated in multiple research projects as Not Koclea's top apprentice, but she had never set foot outside the Not laboratory. She had intended to eventually expand her reach, but Not Koclea's research was highly regarded even within the Tower of Akasha, with abundant facilities and budget, so there had been little need to find a new laboratory. If Klye had not issued a recall order, she would probably still be happily working on that research today.
But if she had known it would come to this, she should have been gathering information little by little. Lab Director Not Koclea might have known something, but the former Grand Sage had lost his memory and was now imprisoned in the Great Prison. Nothing to be done about that.
Their opponent was a massive organization that had reigned as an enemy of the world for ages. No matter how strong Liliz and Citry were, confronting it required a different kind of influence than raw strength.
The organization certainly had roots in Zebuldia's upper echelons, but even if they painstakingly investigated and exposed it, nothing would change. In such a situation, the law would likely not be on their side.
She was not afraid of dying, but she simply was not that interested.
Liliz yawned hugely, like a cat, and declared breezily: "I'm bored. Let's just give up, yeah? It's a waste of time, and Gregg's probably safe by now anyway. I don't have time to babysit chickens. We already got a Golem thanks to Klye-chan, so whatever happens after that, I don't care."
"Sis! You're always getting bored so fast!"
"If you want new test subjects, we captured three right here — couldn't we just use them?"
Liliz gestured with her chin toward the three prisoners who had already lost the will to resist. Citry objected with a frown.
"How would we transport them?! Moving them all the way to the lab would attract attention! Besides, the next specimen I need is a Mage type —"
"No clue. Just grab one around here?"
"You can't — Sis, you know the party rules, right?!"
The Mourning Specter had three rules.
Everyone gets along.
No harming civilians.
Democracy. When opinions conflict, the majority rules. (Incidentally, the leader holds five votes.)
They were perhaps a bit overly cautious, but they were reasonable rules.
And as long as the second rule existed, Citry could not lay a hand on civilians. Even when she had participated in the Tower of Akasha, she had never personally harmed the civilians from the Decadent District who had been abducted for human experimentation. She had been called "still too soft" by her former master Not for that — but it was something Citry could not help.
The clouded eyes of Decadent District residents watched from the alley's edge, from building windows, observing the aftermath of Liliz and Citry's commotion.
Seeing her frustrated sister, Liliz suddenly brightened as though she had thought of a brilliant idea, clapping her hands together with a snap.
"...Alright, decision made! It's a little annoying, but let's ask Klye-chan?"
"..."
"It'll be fine — Klye-chan is kind, and he's probably already predicted this whole situation. If you're scared, Citri, I'll apologize and ask him! That way we won't waste any more time, I can go on a date with Klye-chan, and we'll have time to train Tinno. Great plan, right? Done deal!"
Before Citry could say a word, Liliz had already reached her own conclusion, arms crossed with a look of absolute confidence.
Looking at that smile, Citry thought.
Deep down, she had wanted to avoid troubling the leader as much as possible. But taking too much time could end up causing trouble anyway, and besides, they had already caused him trouble countless times since becoming Hunters. They had consulted him about everything under the sun since the old days — they were not the kind of companions to fear bringing him one more problem.
She wrestled with it for a while, but no better idea came. In the end, Citry arrived at the same conclusion.
It was the typical outcome when the two sisters' opinions diverged.
Reading the conclusion from her sister's expression, Liliz straightened her back and pointed at the three prisoners.
"So, what do we do with these guys?"
"Hmm... We can't exactly bring them back..."
At Liliz's question, Citry looked down at the three prisoners again.
Their arms were bound, they had been given a truth serum, and they were battered — but given time, their bodies would recover, if not their minds.
In truth, she did not care either way. The lab was far away, and the risk of transporting them was too great. She had earned their enmity, but that was nothing new for the Mourning Specter.
Citry pressed a finger to her lips and blinked.
"If we killed them and left the bodies, the locals would swarm the place, and by tomorrow there would not even be bone fragments left, I think..."
"Hmm. Then let's do that?"
The tone was as casual as if deciding tonight's dinner.
From somewhere came a clattering sound.
It was from inside the paper bag. The sound of teeth chattering.
They did not scream — they simply lacked the energy. But they had been listening to the conversation, and their bodies trembled uncontrollably.
They had sensed the genuine intent behind that casual, conversational tone.
These two people did not care one whit about their lives. They were people who could dirty their hands without a shred of killing intent.
The three kneeling men swayed. At that moment, Citry brightened with an idea.
"Ah, but wait, Sis! Maybe it would be better to make them subordinates instead of killing them? We were just talking about needing subordinates who are used to dirty work. They are too rough to turn into Kirukilu, but wouldn't reusing them be better than throwing them away?"
"Ehh? Subordinates? I don't want wimpy subordinates..."
"Then I will take all three! Ah, but... I will have to ask them, and if they refuse, we would have to dispose of them... Though, Klye does not really seem to like killing..."
Citry circled in front of the three kneeling men and lightly touched their exposed necks. From inside the paper bags came strangled gasps. Unlike Kirukilu's bag, these dirty, eyeless paper bags revealed nothing.
Steadying her breathing, Citry asked gently. Behind her, Liliz interjected.
"Hey, everyone. You can keep doing your mercenary work on the side, but... would you become my subordinates? Of course, I will not force you. Only if you are willing."
"Ehh, they would totally say no, right? Being Citri's subordinates? Their lives would be pitch-black — they would rather just die, huh? ...Hey, say something, you good-for-nothings!"