Magician in Type-Moon

Page 233

In other words, Genmu Satsuki's "language" is an anomaly.

The most classic form of anomaly is magic called Reality Marble.

The mental landscape deeply imprinted in the practitioner's heart

A grand magic trick that reflects reality as a "world".

Since the inherent barrier is an erosion of the real world by the spellcaster's mental world, it will inevitably be corrected by the world.

Therefore, a magician who activates a Reality Marble will expend a great deal of magical power to resist the world's correction.

Similarly, the anomalies exhibited by Xuanwu Gaoyue are also the same.

This is also why his "language" ability has a time limit.

The inhibitory force will not allow such a situation to persist for long.

But if we set aside "language," Genmu Satsuki is just an ordinary person.

He will die once he causes enough damage and the world begins to correct the anomaly in this area.

"Someone rescued him, and it seems to be someone you know."

Faced with Matouike's doubts, Ryougi Shiki gave this answer.

Upon hearing this, Matou Ike frowned slightly, clearly indicating that this had caused him some doubt.

"Someone I know? Who is it?"

"He's the guy who gave you that letter. Take a look for yourself."

Ryougi Shiki responded somewhat impatiently, her tone clearly showing displeasure.

Matouchi looked down and pulled out the letter, his eyes fixed on the words, his thoughts racing.

"To the born evil magician brat."

Just seeing the first line of text gave Matou Ike a headache; a name was already vaguely appearing in his mind.

The next sentence made Matou Ike decide who she wanted to be with.

Matouike sighed and slowly shook his head.

"To be honest, it's really hard to trust someone like you who has connections with demons. And I've already found out that the appearance of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostles is directly related to you, this evil fellow."

Hansa Serbandis, so this is the guy?

"Although this is only one side of the story from your adversary, it is still a piece of intelligence that is worth noting, and you can't refute that, can you?"

"In my opinion, this whole thing is a farce orchestrated by you magicians. Naturally, as someone who joined midway through, I've decided to bet on both sides. You have no objection to that, right?"

The confidence and provocation in his words were exactly like that guy's style, and there were coffee stains on it.

The letter contained two consecutive question marks, which was quite perplexing.

But Matou Ike could understand. After all, this guy's goal was just to get rid of the "Fruit" Dead Apostle Twenty-Seven Ancestor. He would choose whichever method gave him a better chance of winning. That's the kind of person he was.

The fact that he let Ryougi Shiki go shows that he is currently maintaining a neutral stance.

"What a troublesome fellow," he muttered to himself, his thoughts racing as he looked at the second half of the letter.

"Regarding the matter we discussed last time, namely the information that the Holy Church confirmed the loss of the 'Fruit' principle, I have already confirmed this with the higher-ups, and it can be used to exchange for the information you have."

"However, as compensation, I can reveal this information to you in advance, as long as you are willing to sign this contract."

Should we give someone a beating and then offer them a sweet treat?

Matou Ike thought to himself.

Along with the letter came a scroll made of sheepskin, which appeared to be the contract Hansa had mentioned in the letter.

The scroll exudes a faint, ancient charm, and its smooth texture suggests the weight of history.

Matouchi examined the contract closely; its contents were surprisingly simple.

The contract did not require him to make any complicated promises, but only that he inform the Holy Church of the whereabouts of the seventeenth reincarnation of "Michael Roya Fadanyan, the Serpent of Agasha" after this incident.

Once the contract is signed, someone will come to collect it.

He only needs to fulfill this obligation after the event is over, without any additional burden.

There is no problem with this.

He carefully examined the entire parchment, looking for any possible linguistic loopholes or fraudulent schemes.

Through meticulous observation, he found nothing suspicious, nor any of the devilish methods of tampering with the patterns using tiny characters.

This is a very simple and unadorned contract.

After confirming that everything was correct, he finally signed his real name on the contract.

In that instant, he felt a mysterious connection, as if he were resonating with some kind of power.

"The contract is settled, that's great. Now I'll pass on the details of that incident to you."

Hansa’s voice suddenly rang out in the void, as if echoing from all directions.

The parchment scroll suddenly shattered with a "bang," and multicolored light enveloped Matou Pond.

Recorded on the scroll, the light and shadow from that historical gap surged wildly into Matou Ike's mind.

......

"What's going on..." Matou Ike involuntarily took a step back, his mind filled with many questions.

The cup of coffee that had appeared in her hand at some unknown time was almost spilled as Matou Ike moved.

"I'm saying, are you listening, Hanse?"

The elderly priest looked at the Bible and turned to Matou Ike to ask a question.

"Hanse? Are you talking about me?" Matou Ike frowned slightly.

The scene before him made him realize that he might have been directly dragged into the records of the Holy Church's operation, and that his identity had been replaced by that guy.

"Don't worry, I'll just listen and let it go, Master."

The words came out automatically from Matou Ike's mouth.

Matou Ike was taken aback for a moment, then quickly realized that it was just a matter of perspective.

Then we can only watch it obediently.

"Hmph, this operation will also have a senior agent working with you."

The old man sighed deeply, glanced in Hansa's direction, and then said.

"It's like this again. When will I be able to go on a solo mission?"

"Let's talk about it when you can stand on your own. This opponent is not to be underestimated, but it's not too difficult."

"I know, it's just the son of Fu Hailin. For magicians, such things are indeed troublesome, but the number of times we members of the Holy Church have successfully defeated such things is comparable to the number of types of coffee I've drunk. It's no big deal."

Within Matouchi's field of vision, Hansa casually listened to the old priest's words, then casually raised his hand and slowly stood up.

The old man watched Hansa's figure gradually disappear into the distance.

With a silent, lightning-fast strike, he fired a small metal plate towards Hansa.

It was a delicate coin, subtly reflecting the surrounding light.

Hansa remained oblivious, his back still turned to the old priest, seemingly unaware of the impending crisis.

But in the next instant, Hansa's reaction was astonishing. His arm joints twisted at an unusual angle, as flexible as a machine, and with precision, he bounced the coin back.

The coin traced a bright arc in the air and returned to the old priest's direction almost instantly.

With a soft "ding," the coin landed steadily on the ground, reflecting a faint light.

At first glance, the metal coin looks like a pizza crust split into sixteen equal parts.

This is a piece of content that has basically no meaning. Matou Ike reasonably infers that Hansa extracted this scene just to show off.

The scene changes in the next instant.

"Is that—snow?"

As a few snowflakes slowly drifted down, Matouchi squinted, trying to make out the sudden white phenomenon.

The initial light snow gently blended into the surrounding mist, but what followed was a fierce blizzard that swept wildly across the surrounding space.

The blizzard, like a white deity from afar, swept past with a low whistling sound, seemingly conveying some indescribable majesty and power.

The white world quickly swallowed his vision, and Matou Ike felt a sense of oppression coming from all directions, as if the whole world was whispering to him.

Across from them sat a silent, taciturn figure.

He was an elderly Black man who looked to be over fifty years old, with an old scar on his eyebrow that gave him a mafia-like appearance.

He picked one or two grapes from a bunch and put them in his mouth.

“I am Calleber Frampton, the mastermind behind this operation.”

"Wen Bing Yong Li."

A tall man on the other side replied, holding a short knife that reminded one of well-honed steel—reliable, but not easy to approach.

"Irmiya."

This is a nun, who has a quiet and reserved appearance.

"Hanse Serbandis".

"Okay, everyone's here. Before we launch the attack, let's summarize everyone's roles."

The man who called himself Calleber kept his distance from the others, sipped his red tea, and spoke slowly.

"Knife skills."

The first person to reply was Wen Bingyongli, but her reply consisted of only two simple words, which sounded quite unique.

"fist."

It was still just two short words, but the one who said them was the same quiet and conservative nun from before, which was quite surprising.

"I am a cyborg."

Hansa's words, though similar in style to the previous two, were also exceptionally concise.