Biological Program (1)
Kingdom of Tormia.
A nameless village in the Sanperos region.
"Hurry! Faster, please!"
A cart hurtled down the cliffside mountain road at a terrifying speed.
Its streamlined body prioritized mobility above all else, and a supply wagon full of medical equipment trailed behind it.
The wheels struck a rock and the vehicle jolted; the medics inside braced against the walls.
"This road is too rough! At this speed—!"
Before the coachman could finish, Seriel pushed back the curtain and stood in the cabin.
"It's fine! Go at top speed!"
The coachman gritted his teeth and cracked the reins. At last a shabby village came into view beyond the ridge.
Technically it had a name—because it lay within the Kingdom of Tormia—but the village was effectively sealed off.
A nameless disease reported three days ago had driven the villagers to mutation—the very thing Seriel had come to find.
"We're here!"
The door slammed open, and an elderly white-haired man and Seriel leapt out as if diving into water.
Behind them, medics from the World Health Organization hurried to gather their equipment.
Tenos, head of the molecular biology division, was a stiff, white-haired man with a stern air.
"The mutates?"
Soldiers in hazmat suits guarded the entrance.
"All dead. Only one is left. But his condition is very bad."
"Stand aside!"
A soldier was shoved back as the medics shouted—
"We can't enter recklessly without a proper epidemiological survey—"
"Seriel! Come with me!"
"Yes!"
Taking a medical bag from the medics, Seriel followed Tenos into the village.
"What do we do? If this is contagious—"
The commander barked an order.
"Damn it! Seal the entrance. Kill anyone trying to escape on sight!"
As the troops readied their bows, WHO medics streamed in behind them.
Bodies lay scattered through the village of three hundred households. Survivors' eyes were hollow with terror.
"Please, save us! Please let us go!" People reached for Seriel like things clawing out of a hellish swamp.
She didn't even blink and pushed deeper into the village.
Corpses were piled there as well.
'The mutation radius is bigger than I thought.'
Could those still be called human?
Some had arms or legs turned into insect limbs; others were transformed through their entire bodies into animal forms.
"Chief! Seriel!"
She snapped to attention at the chief's shout and looked back toward the hut.
"Yes!"
Inside, a man's skin had gone so pale it was almost translucent; he was bound to a bed.
"Kraa! Kraaaargh!"
His eyes were unfocused—perhaps he'd already lost his mind—but his terror remained intact.
"He's still pre-mutation! Excise it!" The medical team tore the man's clothes away, and Seriel climbed onto his torso.
"Kraaaa! Kraaa!"
She pressed down on his sternum with both hands to pin his struggling and quickly examined his body.
'Where is it? Where—?'
A parasite's alteration of its host doesn't extend farther than twenty centimeters from the initial injection site.
'Found it!'
Seriel's eyes widened as she discovered the injection wound on the man's chest.
'Damn. It's the heart!'
The odds of whole-body mutation were high.
"Scalpel!"
The moment a medic handed her the scalpel, the man's upper body convulsed more violently.
"Kill... me... please—!"
Words from a human that made the skin crawl.
Seriel bit her lip and, without mercy, sliced into his chest with the scalpel.
"Ughhh!"
Blood spurted up, spraying in a red arc across Seriel's face.
She didn't close her eyes, and fortunately none of the blood hit her eyes.
How the parasite infected other bodies was still unknown.
Seriel thrust her hand into the man's heart and felt something with an unfamiliar texture; she pulled it out in one motion.
A gelatinous mass of cytoplasm, like a tumor, writhed roughly as if it were alive.
"Extract it!"
The medics flung the parasite into a metal container; its cellular tendrils unfurled like whiskers.
'Almost instinctive.'
Once that was verified, the medics closed the box, and Seriel hurriedly began emergency treatment.
"I'll cast recovery magic."
Tenos nodded and snapped a padlock onto the box.
"Please! Please!"
Seriel's recovery magic had a strong reputation at the WHO, but this patient was more than merely wounded.
The parasite had already drained him of vitality; he looked up at Seriel and whispered with trembling lips.
"Do-doctor..."
"Don't speak. Recovery comes first."
"...I dreamed."
The man accepted death in his expression; Seriel knew such cases were unusual.
"My body burned like it was on fire, and then the pain stopped. Was that you, doctor?"
"It was probably because we removed the parasite. You can live. Stay with us a little longer."
"The light pulled me, and my eyes opened."
He described the dream.
"A pleasant scent, a comforting touch—things a poor man like me would never feel."
Seriel said nothing further.
'This man, too—'
Mutation reports gathered from around the world shared a common detail.
"At that moment a thought came into my head: Ah, I'm rich. So I'd been dreaming all this time."
Tears ran down the man's cheeks.
"But in truth it was a dream. Yes, I'm a poor man."
"What did you see in that dream?"
Seriel kept the recovery magic flowing, but the man's life force did not revive.
"A hazy sky. Maybe a glass window. Beyond it, something looked down at me."
"What was it?"
"I don't know. It was hard to see. Something small, gray... Then the sky suddenly opened..."
When he came to, he was here.
"If it was a dream... I was rich. No, that must be a dream. Doctor, I want to go back."
The man wailed, sobbing, and Seriel grabbed his face.
"Snap out of it! Your wounds are healed! You can live!"
"No! It's all fake! It's all—! Ugh!"
His lungs suddenly ballooned, his pupils rolled up, and he stopped breathing.
Seriel performed resuscitation, but his body temperature was dropping rapidly.
"That's enough, chief. Stop. Make the report."
Seriel's head fell.
"Mutation case B-38. Parasite Argones excised; physiological recovery completed, but expired. Cause of death—"
She slowly lifted her face and her eyes flashed.
"Presumed suicide."
As the medics hurriedly recorded the details, Seriel climbed down from the bed and gave instructions.
"Under international agreement, the WHO will handle the mutant's corpse. Proceed discreetly. This cannot be made public yet."
If the Church were to announce it, they would wait until after Pisho's funeral.
Outside the hut, Tenos had lit a cigarette.
"You did well."
He handed the lit cigarette to Seriel; she took it and inhaled deeply.
"…Why would they die?"
Tenos was quiet for a moment.
"The recovery was certainly complete. No wounds, normal bodily functions, metabolism in order. How could someone just die?"
"Who knows. Maybe from despair?"
"Can someone die simply from feeling empty?"
Tenos lit his own cigarette.
"You know those cases—when a person feels there's nothing left to gain. Good memories, bad memories—afterward they're just neural signals."
His cigarette-tipped fingers pointed ahead.
"We say we live for the future, but all that remains is the past. To live desperately just to keep a single memory in your head is inefficient."
"I didn't think you held views like that."
Tenos shrugged.
"I'm speaking theoretically. Living is buying sensations. Sensation is a kind of impulse. Can that be called life? And once something is perceived, it's already the past."
He exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"Past, present, future—humans belong to none of them. What truly exists in this world is only emptiness."
"Like Nane said."
Tenos let a corner of his mouth lift.
"I tried mimicking the Buddha, but honestly I don't know. If humans are merely signals coming from outside, dreaming and waking are the same. Is it really suicide? Maybe they realized there was no substance here."
"You'd call that nirvana? Near-death experiences are personal. They can't be proven scientifically."
"…Then you find out," Tenos said, flicking his cigarette away.
"Pisho's choice was correct. It's fortunate one of our alumni made it to the Ivory Tower's Five Greats. Even the Church wouldn't betray the Ivory Tower and open their secrets. Go. Find out exactly what Pisho discovered." Of course she intended to do exactly that.
"Understood."
"A cart will be too slow. Use spatial teleportation. The branch can quarantine and dispatch you immediately."
"All personnel involved in the Argones Project must follow the routes assigned by headquarters, though."
"I'll take responsibility. Tomorrow the protocols will be lifted anyway. Don't worry about this place—take Creas." Seriel had wanted nothing else.
She bowed her head and cast a spatial teleportation spell.
"I'm off."
A thunderous sound tore the sky.
On the day of Pisho's funeral.
Creas Municipal Cemetery had been crowded with notable figures from every quarter since morning.
"There are so many people."
Because of their long ties to the Magic Academy, a large crowd had gathered by the Alpheas School of Magic sign. But elsewhere, people who seemed unrelated to Pisho were also present.
Dorothy murmured, "This definitely isn't just a funeral. Stay alert and watch what's happening."
Arin asked, "Could a fight break out?"
"Not necessarily—"
Sabina jabbed her side.
"Don't be like that. Tell us. You must know—your lover would have told you everything, right? Are we not even going to talk among ourselves?"
At the word lover, Dorothy's face flushed.
"I—I don't know. Iruki didn't say anything. He just said it might be dangerous."
Kloser pointed.
"There."
Headmaster Alpheas of the Magic Academy and Vice Principal Olivia were speaking with students.
"Headmaster!"
Dorothy and the excavation team greeted them, and Alpheas smiled kindly.
"You came. Thank you."
"Of course we had to. But the atmosphere is strange. What's going on?"
"It's because of Pisho's will. There's something we don't know. There were even protests a little while ago."
"Protests?"
Dorothy turned and saw foreign envoys arguing with representatives of the Church.
"This is unacceptable. Do you know how much the Kingdom of Miel invested in the Church?"
"Please understand. Again, the right to open the will does not belong to the Superlife Research Institute, nor to the Church."
"This is—what do you mean…!" The envoy was about to lose his temper when a herald pointed toward the entrance.
"Ambassador, over there."
As if on cue, hundreds of people fell silent at once.
"The Ivory Tower's Five Greats."
Shirone—the only person Pisho had granted viewing rights to—was entering with Amy.