Chapter 238 - Infinite Mage

Amy frowned as a fleeting moment passed, and the grotesque spectacle gradually took shape into an elegant form pleasing to the human eye. The part that was once the handle transformed into a helmet shielding the face, while the blade that extended over the crown slid down its spine, adhering tightly to the main muscles, establishing a foundational framework. From that framework, metal spread out to form the shape of armor. The metal extended to the wrists, transforming into gauntlets, and as it passed over the legs to the soles, it turned into pointed metal boots. When the armor protected the core organs of the body, red fibers enveloped the joint areas and tightened securely around the body without a gap. Finally, a massive amount of fiber emerged from the neck guard and transformed into a fluttering cape. From Amy's perspective, the transformation happened in an instant, making it appear as though Zion had transformed. With his face concealed by a cross-shaped helmet, Zion lowered his arm and clenched his fists. That was the signal for an extraordinarily thin needle to pierce into the nape of his neck and connect to the spinal cord. There was no pain, but an electrical sensation coursed through his spine. -User cerebral copy. Sharing. Activation of linguistic cognitive ability. Armand's voice resonated in Zion's head and immediately began to regulate his bio-signals. -Strength enhancement. Increase in bone density. Augmentation of internal skeleton. Maximization of nervous system transmission speed. Completion of metallic proliferation. Capability for weapon generation and transformation. Specialization in killing. Advantage in close combat. Ching! Ching! Blades 30 centimeters in length protruded from both of Zion's gauntlets. Amy swallowed hard. Except for the eyes visible through the cross slit, Zion's entire form was concealed by the magic sword. From the appearance alone, it seemed that fibers covered most of the body with armor layered on top. 'How is that even possible?' This was an inconceivable situation. Estimating the weight of the metal suggested it was far heavier than the original magic sword. The fibers overlaying the armor were particularly baffling. With resilient muscles protecting joint areas, both durability and mobility were optimized. As a result, Zion, even with the heavy armor, exhibited a swifter and more agile form than before. Zion was pleased to see Amy's perplexed expression. ‘Humph, of course. As if she’d ever seen something like this?’ It was an S-class object, an incongruous blend of metallic and biological characteristics. Its functions divided into two main capabilities: first, precise control of the sword according to the user's will, and second, a Diamond Armor mode, where it merged with the user to maximize combat ability. In the precise control mode, its metallic qualities were highlighted, whereas in the Diamond Armor mode, its biological aspects stood out. Particularly in Diamond Armor mode, as it shared the user's brain, it could execute intelligent missions. “Did you mistake me for some dimwit prince exploiting Theraze's name?” Zion took a step forward. The eerie friction sound of steel boots hitting the ground echoed ominously, causing Amy to instinctively lean against the door. “Of course, you might think so. But what difference does it make? In the face of Theraze's name, everything is trivial. Your family, your talent, none of it interests me. Because I am…” Zion extended his palm towards Amy. “A glorious royalty.” The fibrous glove wriggled, and a tendril shot out from its center, rushing toward Amy. Even in the urgency of the situation, Amy noted the end of the approaching tendril hardening into a sharp point, prompting her to swiftly dodge. Bang! The tendril embedded itself into the door. Simultaneously, the tail detached as the tendril, connected to Zion's palm, severed. Amy, with an aghast expression, inspected the door. As the tendril soaked into the surface, root-like structures spread out, completely sealing the door. Amy bit her lip, her face falling. The tensile strength of the fibrous tendril was unclear, but it seemed unlikely any significant force could break it. “When do you plan to use that flame you're holding?” Zion approached slowly. The pressure he exerted was on a completely different level compared to before his Diamond Armor transformation. It was as if Armand’s menacing aura had cloaked itself over him. “I doubt you truly believe that would work.” Zion raised one of the blades protruding from his gauntlet, holding it vertically. On the smooth surface of the blade, Amy’s face was mirrored back as she glared at him. 5. All Kinds of Variables (1) Even as he ran to Zion’s gallery, Shirone couldn’t shake off the strange imaginings plaguing his mind. He was certain that it couldn't possibly be true, yet an image he absolutely did not want to witness filled his mind. ‘What on earth are they thinking?’ He needed to judge things rationally. First was Amy's motive for following Zion. She wasn’t the type to act rashly, yet she had previously ventured into danger at Galliant Island out of concern for Zis. 5. All Kinds of Variables (2) ‘Yes, it was like that back then too. Because of my delayed return after meeting Sister Marsha…’ Suddenly, he wondered if it might have been because Amy felt let down by him. Was dancing with Sister Reina something that had hurt her? Looking back, it seemed that perhaps there hadn’t been a complete absence of such sentiments when he headed towards Falcoa, an obvious trap. ‘No, I’m overthinking this. Dancing with Sister Reina was something we had planned all along. Amy wouldn’t act like that.’ Even though he thought this, he still couldn’t be entirely sure. The reason was simple. Seeing Zion and Amy dance had caused some unpleasant stir in his own heart. Would Amy not have felt the same? If she felt identical emotions, she might have followed Zion for even the smallest reason. Amy was such a delicate person. Shirone quickened his pace. Even though he tried to control his emotions logically, his heartbeat only accelerated even more. “Huh?” Shirone abruptly stopped and turned around. Ever since descending to the underground, an eerie sensation had been creeping at the back of his neck. Yet, the path he had tread bore no signs of movement, not even a single rat. “Is it just my imagination?” Shirone rubbed his neck as he slowly resumed walking. ‘Heh heh heh, no, you shouldn’t.’ Dangling upside down on the ceiling where Shirone had just been, a man tore a grin across his face. It was Spathur Xenoger, tasked with the special mission to assassinate Shirone. He clung to the ceiling using only the strength of his ten fingers. The ability of spider mimicry granted his clan the power to defy gravity. The villi sprouting from his fingertips and the adhesive oil exuded from his skin underwent a chemical reaction that held his body weight aloft. Of course, the martial arts honed through his assassin training allowed him to support his lower body using only his upper body strength. Additionally, the oily substance oozing from his fingertips would completely evaporate within 20 seconds once secretion stopped, leaving no evidence of his presence. A nearly perfect assassin. Xenoger extended his long tongue down to his chin before retracting it again. ‘Quite a perceptive prey, indeed. Like... a mosquito.’ This, however, was because Xenoger was persistently emitting a faint killing intent towards Shirone. Assessing the prey’s reaction and considering countermeasures is fundamental for an assassin. He could take the target's life whenever he pleased. Currently, he was merely biding his time to ensure a 100% success rate. ‘Yes, it is so.’ Assassins are individuals who capitalize on situations rather than sheer strength. Thus, it is a solitary profession, requiring utmost self-reliance in decision-making and evaluations, making the habit of talking to oneself second nature. Xenoger appreciated his assassin profession, finding it far more sophisticated than the on-the-fly tactics of a hitman. Although his body had become too bizarre to blend in with the human realm, it was the pinnacle of functional beauty pursued by the assassin clan Spathur. ‘Perhaps I should drive him a little further…’ With his ten fingers moving along the wall, Xenoger caught up with his prey. Then, he extended spider silk from his posterior, lowering himself silently behind Shirone. The fine thread adhered to the ceiling, propelling Xenoger’s body forward. Though a slight breeze would sway the web, perfect control was nothing the spider clan couldn’t master. Shirone's nape was now at arm's length; his hair swayed with every exhalation, invoking an urge to sink his teeth into that fair, fish-like neck. Xenoger widened his grin, slowly extending his fingers towards Shirone’s neck. ‘Let’s see how keen his senses really are.’ His fingers hovered just shy of touching the soft down. The distance was almost negligible. Shirone abruptly turned with a startled expression. However, all he saw was the dim atmosphere of the underground corridor. Even the flickering pattern of the torch remained unchanged. “Seriously, what is going on?” Something definitely felt off. Somehow, he was more sensitive than usual today, constantly feeling as if something was toying with his senses. ‘Confirming it wouldn’t hurt.’ Feigning ignorance, Shirone suddenly expanded his Spirit Zone. “…….” A whirlwind of information flooded his synesthetic awareness. Numerous small creatures scurried around; it was likely rats or cockroaches due to the proximity to a food storage. “Ugh…” Shirone brushed down his goose-bumped arms. Through his synesthetic sense, he perceived only minor creatures. The ordeal of dealing with assassination threats for several days had apparently taken its toll on his nervous system. “Let’s hurry up and go.” As Shirone distanced himself, an amused smile stretched across Xenoger’s lips where he clung to the ceiling. ‘Got him. Congratulations on your death.’ The Spirit Zone of a mage is one of the trickiest abilities for close-quarters assassins to contend with. Approaching someone relying on synesthesia to perceive their surroundings is no simple feat. Yet, assassins proclaim: There is no sense devoid of blind spots. The Spirit Zone integrates all information within its domain, perceiving it not through sharp senses like sight or touch, but as an intuitive sixth sense. So what if one could entirely blend into a specific object or creature? Such a holistic sense would fail to differentiate between the two entities. This was the Spirit Zone’s blind spot. Just as real-world creatures evolved through eons to master concealment, assassins too developed unique techniques in their timeless battle against the Spirit Zone. That technique was called the object-mimicking ability, Equalizing. ‘Yes, indeed.’ Though Shirone sensed Xenoger through his Spirit Zone, his intuitive sixth sense couldn’t distinguish between the stone wall and Xenoger. This was precisely the trap Xenoger had set. A mage’s reliance on their Spirit Zone is akin to an ordinary person's dependence on sight. To the extent, if they couldn’t feel it through the Spirit Zone, they might conclude it doesn’t exist. That was the reason for Xenoger’s subtle provocation of Shirone. Having verified his surroundings with his Spirit Zone, Shirone’s vigilance had diminished significantly. Which leads to his demise. Xenoger wouldn’t be the one to kill him. The situation would. While hitmen gamble their lives on a 50% chance, an assassin wouldn’t move even with 99% certainty. They acted only when the target had set their first step into the bog of death. This is why those in high positions feared a single assassin more than an army. Their appearance signaled that the current situation lay at the heart of death. However, the exceptional assassin is not necessarily the supreme swordsman. The skill of Equalizing is such a demanding technique that reaching mastery would require a lifetime of dedication. But they are formidable. While a swordsman might battle with uniform skill from 1 to 100, an assassin became invincible at one moment between 100, subduing foes in that instance. Therefore, it wasn’t Shirone's fault. He simply placed trust in what he believed. Xenoger exploited that blind spot to render his target completely defenseless. Currently, Xenoger was in a state of invincibility. ‘Heh heh, shall we finish this then?’ Stealthily approaching Shirone along the ceiling, Xenoger landed soundlessly on the floor. He then pursed his lips, inserting a finger as if pulling something out. A thread, as sturdy as wire, emerged. This was more than enough. ‘Indeed.’ Xenoger’s method of choice was the death noose. He wove the metal thread into a noose form and, intending to toss it over Shirone, planned to pull tight and snip off his head like plucking a grape. ‘Seven seconds left.’ Xenoger deftly maneuvered the thread in the air, swiftly tying it into a noose. Then, letting it sail on the air currents, it hovered above Shirone’s head like a kite. Perfect murder—silent, traceless, even devoid of scent. ‘Four seconds. Three. Two.’ The noose slipped past Shirone's face, descending toward his neck. ‘Now!’ Xenoger pulled the thread, his grimace widening into a grotesque smile. The razor-sharp spider-thread noose shrunk rapidly, compacting to a size smaller than a millet seed. “…….” Shirone, having fallen to the ground, looked back at Xenoger in shock. “What, who are you?” “…….” Xenoger, frozen as if his cognitive abilities had vanished, simply stared. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't comprehend the current situation. As the noose tightened, Shirone had unexpectedly dropped to the ground and rolled, turning back to meet Xenoger’s gaze. ‘What is this? Where did the calculation go wrong?’ Shirone was supposed to die; the scenario was set for it. Thus, Xenoger believed he bore no fault. An unforeseen variable had clearly been at play. Shirone swallowed hard, glaring defiantly at Xenoger. After confirming safety with his Spirit Zone, the sudden mental alarm that screamed ‘Danger!’ had compelled him to roll instinctively. When he looked back, a sinister-looking man was gazing at him. Xenoger’s eerie voice interrupted his thoughts. “How… did you manage to evade?” Confused by the incomprehensible question, Shirone furrowed his brow. ‘Evade? Well, it’s because…’ He had heard someone's voice, though the reaction suggested the assassin hadn’t heard it. Just then, a sharp crack sounded from Shirone's pocket. Without breaking eye contact with Xenoger, Shirone reached into his pocket. He pulled out a gem that Woo Rin had said was worth well over a billion. It had split into two pieces. Xenoger’s shoulder subtly jolted. Under the magnified vision of his insect-like eyes, the gem Shirone held was unmistakably familiar. “?” The likelihood of Shirone possessing that gem was nil. But it must be the reason. There was no other explanation for his survival despite the flawless setup. ‘Damn it… of all times.’ According to records, 480 years ago, the Jeggers existed on the Western continent. Then, one day, members of the main household were assassinated one by one each day. Despite strengthening security, corpses were discovered with cruel regularity each morning. The family head tried every avenue to find the assailant, but with no means to halt the increasing number of sacrifices, he made a drastic decision once half the family members had perished. He sealed off the estate. Yet, even that night, another servant was murdered. Realizing the killer was among them, the head interrogated the entire household. With no suspicions pinpointed, time passed, and the family dwindled from 287 to 63 members. The family was, for all intents and purposes, ruined. Everyone's spirits broke, and distrust made them refrain from speaking to one another. The family head ceased trying. He resigned himself to whoever might perish next. As long as the identity of the killer was revealed, even the death of a family member wouldn't matter.