Round 23: Forging

O’Sullivan handed the leather bag meant to hold iron blocks to Mishima, who reluctantly bent down to do something that shouldn’t have been a mage’s task.
Not far away, Moriel was quietly gathering magic within her body, with unprecedented precision.
“Why isn’t that red-clothed one doing this?” Moriel asked softly.
“Because he doesn’t like being near women.”
“Hmph.”
O’Sullivan was now thoroughly studying the magic array left by the Blood Axe, but the blood on the scroll prevented him from going any further.
“The bag isn’t big enough. Moriel, lend me your bag.”
“That’ll cost extra.”
“Go talk to that lord over there,” Mishima said, nodding toward O’Sullivan. O’Sullivan waved back without turning, indicating agreement.
“Alright!” Mishima said, standing up straight. He hadn’t done physical labor in a long time.
“Then let’s go. Red-robed female mage, if you wish, you can come to Levatan City to talk to me.” O’Sullivan threw a bag beside Moriel, filled with enough gold sand and diamonds, then glanced at her before turning to leave.
“Red robe? Ale, who had remained silent until now, suddenly asked slowly.
“Why haven’t you told me she’s a red-robed mage? Have you known her for a long time?” The question was clearly directed at Mishima.
“Ah, well, not that long. But we’ve known each other since she arrived in Rain City. What’s the matter?” Blocked by the flaming words, Mishima had no choice but to answer honestly.
“How long has she been here?”
“Uh, about two years, I guess.” Mishima found Ale’s questions increasingly strange; she seemed overly concerned.
“Moriel… Is the tattoo on her face like this?” A pattern formed in the air. To use flame magic to such an extent was truly artistic.
“More or less. How did you know?”
“Is it the same?!” The flaming words became unstable, with the last few letters bursting into flames almost instantly.
“Yes!” Mishima was frightened, though he didn’t know exactly why.
“Kraus-Tina.” The voice was eerily hollow and strange, like syllables produced by a thousand drums beating at once.
O’Sullivan turned around unexpectedly. He saw the air around Ale in the red robe twisting slightly, with different temperatures creating flowing vibrations that produced a sound: “Are—you—now—calling—her—Moriel?”
Something was stirring beneath Ale’s closed eyelids, as if trying to burst out.
As for Mishima, he was completely confused. He really couldn’t figure out what was going on, and given the current situation, it was clearly impossible to understand.
“I thought you’d be too old to recognize me… What’s your name now?” Moriel seemed to sigh in relief as she leaned against a half-built stone wall and spoke calmly.
The words burst out from Ale like an explosion: “O’Sullivan-sensei, we’ll have to delay for a while…”

“It’s rare for you to have personal requests. Alright.” O’Sullivan smiled and stepped away from Moriel. “I won’t disturb your catching up. I’ll go over there—”
Suddenly, he tilted his head swiftly. A drop of blood flew from his neck, splashing into the air. If he hadn’t dodged, the blood would have hit him, driving him mad.
“Moriel?!” Mishima raised his hand, sending numerous metal parts flying into the air. Several magic missiles tore through the bag behind him. The iron pieces seemed to be blown up by a blower before scattering across the magic circle.
“So you had it planned all along.” O’Sullivan touched his neck, and the thin wound disappeared instantly.
A massive amount of magic gathered in her right hand—just at her fingertips, its concentration could rival Ale’s. But unfortunately, he was facing three people.
O’Sullivan vanished suddenly.
It seemed as if a bomb exploded in Ale’s hand, unleashing scorching magic that created a huge hole in the hall. Moriel’s attention was drawn to these rapid movements. In that brief instant, she searched for O’Sullivan first, then turned back to Ale. By then, Mishima’s magic had paralyzed half of her body, and O’Sullivan had reappeared in front of her.
The paralysis magic, delivered in an instant, wasn’t very powerful—it only slowed Moriel down for a moment. But to O’Sullivan, that was enough time to have a cup of tea. He kicked Moriel hard in the shoulder, and the stone wall behind her reflected his anger.
The magic in her right hand had completely dissipated. It would be difficult to gather it again, especially since no one there would give her such a chance.
“Mishima, retrieve what we’re looking for. Ale, she’s yours.” O’Sullivan turned away.
“Y-yes, my lord.”
Moriel tried to sit up again, but with her right arm dislocated, she could only curl on the ground. Her struggles only made the surge inside her chest worse, and blood sprayed from her mouth. She leaned against the wall, unable to move.
“Ale? Heh, a ridiculous name.” The strong man in red robes was about to end it all. Moriel’s bleeding lips managed to form a faint, helpless smile. “I want to die with dignity.”
“It’s—over,” Ale said, word by word.
Moriel’s fingers in her right hand twitched once, seemingly in a final struggle before death, though it was so slight it was barely noticeable.
One of Blood Axe’s fingers, still kneeling at the edge of the magic circle, also twitched, as if Blood Axe had suddenly come to life.
She had once told Forty-Seven that such a trick wasn’t real magic at all. But now, Moriel felt as though this “trick” had cost her all her magic.
One of Blood Axe’s blood-stained fingers pierced into the magic circle. Below it was a circle that was three-quarters complete. Moriel watched as that finger moved again.

The fingers controlling the Blood Axe took all of Moriel’s remaining energy and magic to complete that circle. After doing so, she leaned against the wall—too exhausted to do anything other than breathe, and unsure of the purpose of it. It was a gamble: death if she played, death if she didn’t. So, she decided to take the risk.

Moriel was right.

A glimmer of light appeared at Alei’s feet, but it wasn’t coming from him.

The magic circle emitted a buzzing sound and vibrations, causing stones near the hole in the ceiling to fall away. Suddenly, the light intensified, and the tattered, crumpled scroll unfurled, emitting a sun-like, blinding brilliance. The corpse of the Blood Axe was flung away by the powerful magical surge, and Alei was forced to retreat as well. Moriel nearly lost consciousness from the shock; the intense wind pressure made it hard for her to breathe. Soon, the light became too bright to look at directly. She closed her eyes, letting the flying stones hit her.

“What’s going on? Is it that unfinished magic circle? What happened?!”

O’Sullivan stared in disbelief through his magic shield at the pile of scrap metal at the center of the magic circle. A fist-sized metal ball began spinning faster and faster, eventually floating as if drawn to the scroll in the air.

“It’s the core!” As the magic circle’s light grew brighter, the metal ball began emitting red rays. At first, faint light seeped through its cracks, then gradually formed a solid beam. Finally, the metal ball burst forth with a burst of red light, turning the entire hall into a hell of flames.

O’Sullivan tried desperately to stop it, flying toward the magic circle, with Mishima and Alei ready to support him.

The red light intensified to an unbearable level, mixing with the intense glow of the magic circle. For a moment, a golden-red brilliance seemed to fill the entire world, followed by a massive magical shockwave. O’Sullivan barely managed to protect himself with his magic shield and avoid injury, but it was now impossible to get any closer. Everyone was blinded by the dazzling light, but they all knew something unexpected had happened.

Si Si Qi fell into darkness. It was as if he were back in the past, without a body, alone inside the machine. He tried to move his fingertips, but felt that all the mechanisms in his body had been shattered by the barrage of deadly needles. Without the connection of gears and pipes, he couldn’t control his body at all.

Suddenly, he felt a hint of frustration. If only he were one of those pure steel golems Moriel often talked about—perhaps he could hold out longer.