[357] The Magic Association (3)
"This isn't as rare a situation as I thought. What should I do? Should I go?"
Terror against civilians was a serious crime, so the kingdom would respond immediately. Even if he went to the scene there might be nothing he could do, but it felt wrong to ignore it and just head back to the Association.
A crowd of people who'd fled a second time poured toward the main road. As they passed, shouting, Shirone picked up more details.
"The Black Revolutionary Group! They've taken hostages and are holed up in the Gold Tower!"
"Damn. Of all times—those reckless lunatics."
"What's the counterterror unit doing? Haven't they been called yet?"
The noise overflowed, but no one moved toward the Gold Tower.
That was only natural. Ordinary people could do nothing against terrorists; it was better to leave it to the professionals.
"What should I do?"
A student at the Magic Academy wasn't a professional. Still, he wasn't so inexperienced that he'd just sit idly by while people were being killed.
Voices reached him from the crowd on the sidewalk.
"Those bastards. They'll demand their comrades be freed again. If we don't put them down fast, they'll slaughter the hostages. Three died last time."
Shirone's resolve shifted a little.
"I should at least go and check the situation."
He could protect himself, so it was right to go. As someone who had been near the incident, he could offer an initial response, and even as a student he'd already built up plenty of combat experience.
Deciding that, Shirone ran toward the rising smoke. People on the sidewalk saw him cut across the road against traffic and shouted.
"Hey, kid! Don't go that way! That's a terror zone!"
Shirone paused. Not because of the warning, but because the box he carried rattled and slowed him down. He could drop it and run, but he couldn't afford to lose the Association's equipment when he was only going to assess the situation.
"Screw it."
He steeled himself and cast teleportation. Turning into a flash and streaking through the air, everyone watching looked up with wide eyes.
"What—what is that? A mage?"
* * *
News of the terror spread quickly through the kingdom's major institutions.
The Magic Association was no exception. When word arrived that the Black Revolutionary Group had bombed the Gold Tower, the Association reacted fast.
A cooperation request came from the kingdom's security office, and the Association replied it would provide all possible support.
But information wasn't forwarded directly down to every licensed level-8 mage. Plu was still in the third-floor engine room overseeing maintenance on the magic control device. She did sense the commotion outside, though.
"What's going on? Finish your work for a moment."
When she opened the engine-room door and stepped into the corridor, the guards had stopped what they were doing and clustered in a corner, whispering. Plu, puzzled, tilted her head and walked over.
"What's the matter? Did something happen?"
"Ah, Chief. They say the Black Revolutionary Group has started a terror incident downtown."
Plu's face soured at the name.
In Radum, Bashka's underbelly, many nonhuman Ain races who'd flowed there after losing the conquest wars had gathered. But the capital's policies banned nonhuman races from economic activity, and resentment had built up. From that grew extremist groups like the Black Revolutionary Group.
Their demand was always the same: free their comrades imprisoned beneath the royal palace and release their deputy leader, Kanimar.
Of course the kingdom wouldn't agree, and the more it refused, the more extreme and daring the Group's attacks became, plunging the capital into chaos.
"Filthy bastards. What do they even think, touching civilians?"
Plu wanted to rush to the scene and beat them senseless. But if everyone started abusing their authority, nobody would be left at the Association.
Calming herself, Plu asked again.
"So where is it this time?"
"The Gold Tower. They really picked a prime target."
"You mean they broke into the Gold Tower?"
The Gold Tower was the foreign exchange bank where other nations' currencies were traded. The Treasury kept some foreign currency there, and if trading were paralyzed even briefly it could cause serious trade losses.
"That means their security's tight. How did they get in?"
Plu's shoulders twitched.
"Wait—Gold Tower?"
"Yes. Why? Do you have a deposit—?"
Plu's thoughts got tangled.
The Gold Tower was only a block from the Akim Alchemy Shop. Shirone could not have missed the incident.
What time is it now? Even allowing for delays, he should be at the scene.
Her heart pounded. What frightened her most was the thought that the person Shirone was supposed to meet, Gaold, might be involved.
"Ugh. Really."
Plu shoved aside her worry and ran down the corridor. A guard coming the other way asked in surprise.
"Chief, where are you going?"
"I'm on external duty! I'll be back soon!"
She bounded down the stairs.
Outside the main gate, citizens wore anxious expressions and stared in one direction. Plu spotted a faint plume of smoke in the distance and immediately turned herself into light; with a thunderous roar she curved through the sky toward it.
* * *
"Don't move! I'll kill anyone who pulls anything!"
Eight members of the Black Revolutionary Group had blown up the Gold Tower. All wore black hoods and carried menacing weapons.
Armed with chain-linked scythes, twin axes, flails, and longswords, they prowled the Gold Tower. The twenty hostages they'd taken trembled like aspens.
"You are now sacrifices to the revolution. You must be prepared to give your lives to free our comrades. Those who refuse will suffer worse than death!"
"Waaah! Mommy, I'm scared!"
A four-year-old boy sobbed in his mother's arms. In the heavy silence, his crying sounded louder than sirens.
"Shh! Quiet. Don't cry."
A low, firm voice tried to hush him, but he wouldn't stop.
Terrorists didn't do this with a sound mind. The child's sobbing only made them angrier.
One member approached the mother and child and shouted.
"If that crying doesn't stop, I'll kill you first!"
"Waaah! Mommy! Mommy!"
The mother clutched her child and bowed her head.
"Sorry! Sorry! I'll quiet him right away. He'll stop soon."
The terrorist had no patience.
To them, every hostage was meant to die gloriously for the cause.
"Shut up! Do you mock the revolution?"
The terrorist kicked the child; the mother was thrown to the floor. The struck child flew several meters and collapsed.
Choking and gasping, he couldn't breathe. A woman rushed over, scooped him up, and soothed him.
"Why are you hitting kids! They can cry when they're scared!"
A burly member swinging a flail stepped forward.
The woman had blonde hair swept back, and luxury showed on her face, clothes, and jewelry.
Her name was Aria—the same woman who had been in the carriage with Shirone a few days ago. She'd come to exchange currency for an upcoming diplomatic practicum and had been snatched by the Group.
"Shut up. Nothing is more important than completing the revolution."
"Hmph! Revolution? Isn't it just about needing money? Why not take all the cash here?"
"Heh heh heh—money?"
The member shrugged and laughed roughly.
To the Black Revolutionary Group, money was as worthless as tissue. Ain races couldn't engage in economic activity in Bashka anyway.
The kingdom couldn't wipe out the terrorists breeding in the capital's gutters, so it focused on economically suppressing them to weaken their power.
But that fact became the Group's unseen weapon.
Being free from monetary concerns was wrapped in nobility. The Black Revolutionary Group labeled the kingdom a social evil and drew more Ain races under the banner of their sacred creed.
"Eek!"
The member hauled Aria to her feet, twisted her arm behind her back, then used the arm holding the scythe to clamp her neck hard.
The scythe flashed coldly before Aria's eyes.
"Heh heh heh, are you a rich girl? You smell delightful. How about it? You've lived well—why not show off your figure to everyone?"
A thick, bluish tongue slithered from the hood's darkness. Twice the length of a human's, it exuded a stench that made Aria grimace and turn her head.
"Don't dawdle. The counterterror unit'll be here soon. Let's get started."
One of the two men from the Akim Alchemy Shop who'd been outside said so. The member didn't care much about the human woman and complied.
"Heh heh—let this woman be the first target. A noble and a pretty face will have maximum effect. Tough luck, miss. But you've had a happy life until now."
The Group spared no cruelty to get their demands met. Their only goal was to free their comrades. To instill fear, killing one hostage was a tactic they favored.
"Please! Save me! Please!"
Aria finally realized the gravity of the situation and struggled.
But no one among the hostages stepped forward for her. The boy's mother only held her child close and squeezed her eyes shut.
The scythe-wielding member dragged Aria outside through the Gold Tower's shattered doorway.
The street, emptied of citizens, was desolate. Only nearby shopkeepers watched from inside their stores.
"Listen up! We are the Black Revolutionary Group! Free our deputy leader Kanimar and release our imprisoned comrades at once! If you don't, we'll kill one person every ten minutes! To prove we're not bluffing, we'll kill this woman right now!"
Aria's face drained of color.
"Eek! Please! Someone help!"
The watching shopkeepers turned their heads one by one. No one could meet Aria's eyes.
The Black Revolutionary Group did what it said. This poor woman had the misfortune that today would be her last day.
"Don't move. If you want someone to blame, blame the kingdom."
The scythe touched the nape of Aria's neck.
There would be no quick death—he wanted maximum terror. If he cut only halfway through, her life would ebb away slowly in agony.
"Die for the revolution!"
His voice was so earnest it felt like the end of her life.
Her legs gave out. She couldn't even scream. Fear froze her mind; her body convulsed beyond her control.
"Wait! Wait!"
Just as the member's scythe began to slice across Aria's throat, someone appeared in the desolate street.
"What the—?"
The members inside the Gold Tower peered through the windows to find the source of the voice. A boy not yet twenty stood there, clutching an iron box and catching his breath.
"Who are you?"