Chapter 1139: Showdown (10)
Bang!!
The hospital room door burst open as if shattered, and a cloaked figure in a black robe strode in.
A savage presence, red glowing eyes flashing behind an obsidian mask, scanned the room.
“Gasp…!!”
“S-sorry!!”
Under that ominous gaze, the staff tidying the room instantly turned pale and scrambled away.
Lennok, having dismissed the surrounding people with a single glance, looked down at the patient lying on the bed.
“Victor.”
The Clown, lying leisurely with an IV drip in his arm, raised a hand and grinned.
“You came faster than I expected. I thought it would take a little longer.”
“……”
“We fought together, but isn’t it only Victor who’s perfectly fine? I feel a bit wronged.”
Ignoring the Clown’s banter, Lennok stared intently at the Clown lying on the bed.
Disheveled ash-blonde hair, an appearance like rags stitched together.
A bizarre look, as if fragments of living humans had been casually sewn together.
But Lennok knew that the Clown’s survival wasn’t simply due to luck.
This madman, who relied on innate fortune for everything, was in fact a gambler who cheated in every game and manipulated probabilities.
Even the fact that this battle was the result of the Clown deceiving and manipulating everyone on the battlefield, including Lennok.
Honestly, in Lennok’s view, both sides were clearly insane—
But he still needed to confirm.
“Did you calculate all this before you caused the trouble?”
“Calculate?”
The Clown tilted his head, then belatedly understood Lennok’s words and chuckled.
“Ah, you meant the self-detonation. To be honest, I didn’t calculate or prepare it that meticulously, but…”
The Clown scratched his cheek and replied leisurely.
“It was something that had to be done eventually. I just thought it might be possible if I was lucky.”
“That dart. It wasn’t originally a tool to store good outcome values, was it?”
Lennok looked down at the Clown with a chilling gaze.
The final moment of collision with the two highest-ranking Apostles of the Cult on the stadium stage.
Lennok had instantly realized the reason why a ‘dud’ had appeared when the dart was thrown at the end of the battle.
“You were using it to postpone the worst outcome that came up on the roulette, weren’t you?”
“I did think things might get interesting if I boasted about my ability in front of the Apostles.”
The Clown cackled and shook his head.
“When I escaped Kabahim, I used my Domain and a ‘dud’ appeared, but I wasn’t in a situation to receive the penalty back then. In fact, I made the dart for the first time then.”
“……”
So he had improvised and kept a luck-manipulating device, a dart, to postpone his Domain’s penalty?
Lennok knew the Clown was highly skilled in illusion magic and Geas, but to be able to ‘adjust’ even a Domain’s ability, which is based on the Root Mindscape…
“I didn’t think there was any reason to keep it for long, so I mixed it with psychological warfare and detonated it right there. It seems it worked out quite well, judging by Victor’s words.”
“Yes, it worked out perfectly.”
Lennok offered a chilling smile.
“More than enough to make me want to kill you.”
“Hahaha!! You’ve gotten so much better at joking since I last saw you—”
Whoosh!
A mana thread grazed the Clown’s cheek.
The Clown promptly shut his mouth after seeing the mana thread penetrate both the bed and the hospital room wall.
Only then did Lennok cross his arms and speak again.
“The self-detonation you used at the end. It was closer to an antimatter phenomenon accompanied by a backlash that severed hierarchies.”
The reason the Cult’s highest-ranking Apostles were flustered by the Clown’s trickery with the ‘dud’ on the roulette was none other than this:
The explosion, which the Clown unleashed by sacrificing his own hierarchy, was powerful enough to cause particle annihilation.
“Why are you alive after receiving the Domain’s penalty?”
“Ah, that part is actually a trade secret, but…”
The Clown covered his mouth slightly and said.
“Just because a ‘dud’ came up on the roulette doesn’t mean I immediately lose the ability to use illusion magic. So, I made some preparations of my own.”
“I don’t know what kind of preparations you’re talking about. Are you saying you tricked death through illusion magic?”
“Hmm, well… rather than that, perhaps preparations to not die even after dying.”
For a moment, the Clown uncharacteristically trailed off.
“I’d have to say it’s manipulating and superimposing the bias in self-perception… It’s related to the concept of truth and falsehood in illusion magic, so it’s a bit hard to explain in words.”
“……”
“Well, to put it simply, you can think of it as causing a kind of error in the concept of reality observation. But why are you looking at me like that?”
“…No.”
Lennok, who had been silent, spoke.
“I didn’t expect such a highly specialized explanation to come from you. Were you handling illusion magic from such a metaphysical perspective?”
“No, how did you usually see me?”
The Clown shrugged with an aggrieved expression.
“Even if I seem like this, I always seriously think things through when I work. For example—”
“For example?”
The Clown, deep in thought for a moment, grinned and said.
“Like what’s the coolest posture to die in during a self-detonation. It’s a very important question, isn’t it?”
“……”
The air instantly turned cold.
Lennok ignored the Clown’s nonsense and calmly reviewed the battle from a few days ago.
Although various circumstances and bad luck overlapped, the fact that the highest-ranking Apostles were deceived by the Clown’s trickery remained unchanged.
Lennok, who had moved without trusting the Clown from the start, was safe, but the Apostles facing him probably couldn’t easily ignore the Clown’s Domain.
The achievement of holding his own against the Cult’s two highest-ranking Apostles and creating a variable even under adverse conditions of poor health and luck.
There was no need to explain how excellent the Clown’s abilities were, having spontaneously handled all those judgments and executed them perfectly.
‘He’s certainly dangerous, alright…’
From their first meeting until now, a madman whose true intentions remained unknown.
So twisted that he couldn’t be trusted for a single moment, yet precisely because of that, a strong and reliable powerhouse.
“Ahem, well, if the result was good, isn’t everything good?”
The Clown subtly changed the subject, seeing Lennok lost in thought.
“I already knew who was in this city. I figured even if things went wrong, it would somehow work out.”
“Are you talking about the doctor who operated on your body?”
“Ah, Victor, you arrived early, so you must have seen him.”
The Clown grinned.
“Then it’s better if I just introduce him here.”
Bang!
The hospital room door swung open, and a man walked in with an annoyed expression.
“The surgery is done. The facilities here are so crude, there’s nothing much to clean up or arrange.”
He held up both hands as if he had just washed them, removing the thin surgical gloves he was wearing.
The man tossed the gloves onto the bed and touched his hands unpleasantly, saying,
“This place is a breeding ground for filth compared to my operating room. Your entire body must be a clump of bacteria by now, so don’t approach me for a while.”
“Victor, this is Avesta Chapman.”
The Clown completely ignored the man’s words and turned his gaze.
“He’s a great man who used to be called the Conjunction Spell Master, but due to circumstances, his brain is currently transplanted into this body.”
“……”
“He’s only been awake for less than three days, so his mind might be a bit disoriented. Please be understanding about that.”
“A Manipulation Spellcaster from Pandemonium. I heard about your Trait-type Spellcraft back when you were in the Order Alliance.”
The Spell Master also seemed to have heard about Victor, his eyes shining with interest.
Perhaps he was interested in Victor, another Trait-type Spellcaster, because he himself was one.
“But, every time I look at you, my brain and central nervous system feel like they’re being simultaneously pierced.”
“……”
“I asked earlier, but have you and I met somewhere before?”
The Spell Master’s words and actions, boldly stating his condition and questioning Lennok.
But instead of answering, Lennok looked at the Conjunction Spell Master standing before him.
More precisely, at the Conjunction Spell Master’s ‘right brain’ that had awakened, having taken over the Juice Master’s body.
‘A strange feeling…’
The memory of fighting the Conjunction Spell Master for his life at the First Gate was still vivid.
The chilling, unparalleled skill that pushed Lennok to his limit by ‘conjoining’ not just matter and life, but even Domains and concepts.
Wasn’t that when he first truly realized what a Trait-type Spellcaster transcending hierarchies was capable of?
Had it not been for Lennok’s Targeted Resistance ability, the outcome of that battle might have been different.
Lennok knew this, which was why encountering the Conjunction Spell Master in this way felt so uncanny.
Even knowing that the ‘right brain’ of the Spell Master he now faced was practically a different person from the ‘left brain’ he had killed.
“You’re not answering.”
Chapman tilted his head, watching Lennok’s silence.
“What? Does this Manipulation Spellcaster lack the intelligence to articulate words?”
“…Chapman. Are you insane?”
The Clown shrugged with a bewildered expression, while the Conjunction Spell Master turned away, unfazed.
“Then answer me. You’re not trying to assault the Gate with a mute, are you?”
“You’re more emotional than I expected.”
At that moment, Lennok spoke in a modulated voice.
Lennok tilted his head, looking at the Spell Master’s face from behind his mask.
“The Grand Spell Master of the Alliance I heard about was a little more… calm.”
“…You.”
Chapman’s gaze deepened.
The Spell Master, with his characteristic keen intellect, had accurately grasped the meaning of Lennok’s words.
“You know about me. Or rather, you know about ‘my’ defeat at the First Gate, do you?”
“……”
“I see. If it’s true that I was defeated by the wizard Cheonbeon, then that rumor must have spread across the entire Central Front by now.”
The Spell Master, with his hands behind his back, swept past Lennok.
“But this was, in the end, a conclusion I had prepared myself for. It was a necessary arrangement to split limited resources and proceed with the experiment.”
“……”
“It’s regrettable that I couldn’t obtain Mikal Zelih’s immortality ability, but I knew that conjoining two different brain hemispheres would be difficult.”
Chapman leaned against the hospital room window and turned his head with a serious look.
“The vitality test based on self-affirmation bias is over. And yet, if I still remain as myself, then this too can be considered a significant gain.”
“I don’t know what incomprehensible things you’ve been muttering to yourself.”
Saying that the bizarre act of splitting his brain in two was right, or accepting the result of his defeat by Cheonbeon.
Muttering incomprehensible terms to himself and drawing conclusions arbitrarily was precisely identical to the Conjunction Spell Master Lennok remembered.
The only slight difference was that the Spell Master Lennok remembered seemed a little more emotional.
“Such an answer wouldn’t explain why the Alliance’s Conjunction Spell Master is hiding here.”
But Lennok showed no trace of such thoughts and looked down at the Clown.
“I’m not even curious about what the Conjunction Spell Master is doing. What’s the meaning of all this now?”
“Victor. You may not know this, but the Conjunction Spell Master is one of the most brilliant surgeons on the continent.”
The Clown replied leisurely.
“Conjunction Spellcraft is a very powerful spellcraft, even among Trait-types, but it’s actually much more useful in fields other than combat. His skill, utilizing his sensitivity and dexterity, is renowned throughout the continent.”
“The utility of spellcraft is—”
“Then don’t you think there’s room to utilize that talent here as well?”
Lennok momentarily stopped walking and turned his gaze.
He realized that the Clown’s somewhat peculiar explanation was hinting at something.
“…Are you saying, perhaps?”
“He’ll be playing the role of ‘doctor’ in this operation.”
The Clown grinned and turned his gaze towards the Spell Master.
“To add a little, he’s also expected to assist us as a doctor, scout, and guide, but with his sensitivity, it shouldn’t be difficult, right?”
“I have no intention of helping Pandemonium that much. My cooperation is solely to check my spellcraft performance and complete my body’s adjustment.”
The Spell Master replied with a nonchalant expression, tucking his hands into his surgical gown.
“In this garbage body, not even half of my original spellcraft performance can be properly displayed. Without at least a 50% output improvement, I don’t think I can do anything.”
“Oh, but you finished my surgery relatively smoothly, didn’t you?”
“Stitching together a torn body is a procedure I could do with my eyes closed.”
Chapman gave a stern look.
“You haven’t forgotten that I was in a coma for several months because this unpleasant body and my excellent brain waves didn’t match, have you?”
“Didn’t I explain who the original owner of that body was last time?”
The Clown chuckled, still lying on the bed.
“He was a businessman who supplied drugs across the continent. Of course his whole body would be saturated with drugs, wouldn’t it?”
“You still don’t understand. That’s precisely where the problem lies.”
Chapman crossed his arms with an unpleasant expression.
“I never gave permission for my excellent brain to be transplanted into a body like this. Who told you to wake me up in this waste of a body?”
“I believe the Doctor already explained that part.”
The Clown grinned.
“A normal host body simply wouldn’t be compatible with you. Do you think even a Trait-type Spellcaster could perfectly synchronize with another’s body with only half a brain?”
“……”
“It’s only because the owner of that body was skilled in Old World alchemy that he could at least fill half your brain with alchemy and assist you.”
The Clown said leisurely, looking at the Spell Master’s glum face.
“You should consider yourself lucky that you didn’t wake up paralyzed, which would have been the natural outcome otherwise.”
“No, such words can’t express the unpleasantness I’m feeling right now, not even a single word.”
Chapman discomfortably twisted his neck this way and that, stretching his joints to their limit.
Awkward and incredibly uncomfortable movements, as if he were using his body for the first time.
“More than half of my internal sensory organs aren’t functioning. Sympathetic nervous system activation is abysmal. My sense of smell is paralyzed. The sensory organs of a patient whose threshold has been broken by prolonged exposure to intense stimuli are usually like this.”
Crack, crack!
Despite the sounds of bones breaking or tearing all over his body, the Spell Master’s face remained calm.
A peculiar reaction, as if he were diagnosing himself by dismantling his own body.
“To make this body usable, it would require major surgery to completely flush out the nervous system and more than half a year of delicate care. Have you ever considered how troublesome and cumbersome that would be?”
“No? I’m not particularly curious, though.”
“……”
Lennok, annoyed, raised his gaze from the Spell Master, who was looking down at the Clown with an expressionless face.
He had finally realized that another madman, no less eccentric than the others, had joined Pandemonium, which was already full of unpredictable eccentrics.
He had expected to encounter the Conjunction Spell Master’s right brain somewhere, but never thought they would work together like this.
“Call Agneta. I need to inform those outside of the current situation first.”
Lennok approached the Clown and sent a chilling gaze.
“They say they can arrange a ship to depart Torquepaz tomorrow. You’ll need to be able to move by then.”
“Ah, you don’t have to worry about that.”
The Clown smiled and raised a hand.
“I’ve already arranged for one of the casino cruises operating near the city to be diverted through the Syndicate.”
“What?”
“There’s only one direct route from Torquepaz to near the royal capital of Kabahim. That was also why I gathered members in this city.”
The Clown said leisurely.
“In exchange, I handed over information about the Cult Apostles involved in the terror and the new Priestess, so it was a fair trade.”
Since the Syndicate had been the ones cleaning up the battle scene, they must have been desperate for information about the Cult.
If the Clown had aimed for that and opportunistically sold off information about the Cult, Lennok could understand.
“We’ll depart for Kabahim as soon as dawn breaks. I’ll finish my adjustments by then, but—”
The Clown grinned and turned his gaze.
“Still, I suppose you can’t just ignore that, can you?”
“……”
On the small TV screen above the hospital bed, images from an auction house were being broadcast.
Customers wearing masks gathered in a vast hall, and an auctioneer in the midst of the bidding.
And on the auction stage, the pallid form of a gun barrel revealed after a cloth was removed.
“The Cult’s Forbidden Armament. Interesting.”
The Spell Master recognized the pale glow beyond the screen and his eyes gleamed.
“Even after killing Apostles, they never seemed to possess such things. How did an item like that end up in an auction house?”
“……”
Forbidden Armament ‘Sorrow’.
While Lennok was talking with the Clown, had this forbidden weapon already been put up for auction?
Had Raymond broken his promise, or had the organizers moved the schedule forward?
As Lennok gazed at the screen with a chilling stare, the Clown propped his chin with his hand and said,
“This is amusing. It seems someone has set the table without our knowledge, but…”
The Clown, watching it on screen, smiled and asked.
“I’m ready, but what about you, Victor?”
“I don’t know if that’s even a question.”
Lennok, looking at the auction that had begun for the Forbidden Armament, turned and walked.
Swish!
Lennok pulled out a black mana thread, unhesitatingly hooked it to the hospital room ceiling, and said coldly,
“We’ll ‘recover’ the Forbidden Armament within half a day and depart for Kabahim. Get ready.”