A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 86

Episode 86. He Makes His Choice (8)

Hans spoke to his friend with evident disdain.
“Would an outsider really be dim enough to order beer in a place this wide open?”
“There’s no harm in being prepared—wait, where are you going?”
“I’m going to show that foolish friend of ours what real flavor tastes like.”
Hans brushed off his friend’s restraining arm and asked the proprietor for two mugs of dark beer.
It had been a long time since a stranger had wandered through. The man looked like a vagrant, and Hans thought that once they grew friendly, he might hear a thing or two about how the world was turning these days.
“Mind if I join you?”
He asked out of courtesy, though he wasn’t truly waiting for an answer. Hans sat down without hearing the reply from the man in the hood. He swept aside the beer the hooded man had been drinking and set down one of the dark brews in its place.
“This is on me. That sandy-tasting swill you were having doesn’t belong here. This is what real quality looks like.”
In that moment, the man who had been silent until then finally opened his mouth.
“Go.”
“What?”
“Take your friend and leave this place within thirty seconds.”

Hans felt embarrassed.
“You haven’t got a speck of manners about you. Where are you from? The north? Ah, I think I’ve got it—you must be from—”
“Too late.”
Bang.
Hans spun around at the sudden sound. Two figures were walking through the wide-open door.
A sinister voice echoed through the tavern.
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my show!”
The man who spoke wore an impeccably tailored suit and stood tall, but oddly, a ridiculous Clown Mask covered his face.
Yet despite the comical mask, the scene unfolding before the tavern’s patrons sent chills down their spines. A wire trailed from the man’s hand, and it was connected to the neck of the middle-aged man who had entered with him.
“I’m Pierrot, your host for this evening’s performance. Delighted to make your acquaintance.”
The middle-aged man’s once-fine clothes were filthy and torn to shreds, and his body, which had once been muscular, hung like a tattered rag from the ravages of torture.
All dignity had vanished. Now he trembled in pure terror, which spoke volumes about what he had endured.
The moment Hans recognized the man’s face, he gasped.
“And now I’d like to introduce my assistant! From the great Steel Kingdom of Divide, His Majesty King Colora Valdersh!”
No one responded. No one dared to move.
Silence. Everyone stood frozen in dread, unable to utter a word.
The sound of a fly buzzing seemed louder than thunder.
Pierrot moved with theatrical grace, loosening the bonds around Colora’s wrists and removing the blindfold from his eyes.
Colora’s eyes, swollen from hours of weeping, were revealed.
“Listen! What in the name of—”
Someone stood up to protest, but his words never finished. Something glimmered in Pierrot’s hand, and his throat was simply severed.
A thin line of blood hung in the air—wire so fine it was nearly invisible to the naked eye.
No one saw it fly.
It was overwhelming mastery.
“Gasp—!”
No scream escaped. Pierrot’s eyes swept the room with an unmistakable message: anyone who made a sound would meet the same fate.
“Now then, everyone arm yourselves. Anything that can hurt someone will do—a sword is fine, a chair is fine, even a glass can be an excellent choice. But I notice that one isn’t moving at all.”
Whoosh.
Crack.
The patrons erupted into frantic activity.
They scrambled for anything that could serve as a weapon. Hans did the same, pouring out the beer from his glass and shattering it to grab a sharp fragment.
Hans caught the eye of the man in the hood, but he remained motionless.
Yet the clown simply ignored him as if he didn’t exist and continued speaking.
“Now, I suspect you all know everyone here. You’re all from the same village, after all. But tragically, only one person will be leaving this place alive. And my assistant here will be joining you all in this little game.”
Colora stepped forward, gripping a dagger in his fist. His eyes held not a trace of pride—only the desperate hunger to survive.
Everyone was watching, hesitant.
“Beginnings are always the hardest, aren’t they? So here’s what I’ll do. Whoever kills the first person will be the first I allow to leave.”
Hans tightened his grip on his weapon.
Could he overpower that man? If he pretended to fight for a bit, then struck when the man looked away, wouldn’t no wire, no matter how fast, be able to stop it?
Hans’s friend approached him, a bottle opener gripped in his hand.
“Friend, calm yourself.”
“You heard what he said too.”
Hans lowered the weapon he’d been holding. Then he turned to his companion once more, his voice desperate.
“Put down your weapon.”
“I want to live, Hans.”
He lunged at Hans. Blood sprayed. Screams erupted. Watching the tavern descend into chaos in an instant, the Clown Mask burst into mad laughter.

* * *

The tavern was silent.
In the end, no one had survived. The scene was too horrific to bear witness to with open eyes.
“Quite the sadistic touch.”
“You think so?”
The Clown Mask took a seat beside the Raven Mask, who had removed his hood.
“I was curious whether you’d stop me or not.”
“I have no intention of playing to your tune.”
At those words, the Clown Mask’s eyes widened briefly before settling into a satisfied smile.
“You’ve certainly changed.”
“Does that displease you?”
“No, I rather like it. Truly. It’s become clear that you’re no different from us.”
The Raven Mask offered no denial this time.
Whether out of sheer laziness in rebuttal or quiet acceptance of the words, he remained silent.
Without answering, he shifted the subject.
“Let’s get to the matter at hand.”
“We failed to assassinate all the kings who attended the grand assembly. But it wasn’t a complete loss. The capital of Frilecha Kingdom has lost its function, and they’ve suffered considerable economic damage. Moreover, we’ve successfully captured one of the Western Kingdom Alliance’s kings.”
He gestured toward the sprawled corpses.
Colora Valdersh, King of Divide.
He had fought desperately with a dagger in hand to stay alive, slaughtering commoners in his bid for survival.
In the end, it had all been for nothing.
Yet even amidst all that carnage, his face remained perfectly intact.
“Acting separately made the work so much easier.”
Colora had split off from the other Western Kingdom Alliance kings and operated independently. That had made him their primary target.
He had placed far too much faith in his own strength.
The Clown Mask prodded the corpse with the tip of his boot, grinning broadly.
“This could make for some entertaining games.”
The Raven Mask did not care for the man before him.
His methods were always sordid and vile.
“So, I hear that Tadeunuf withdrew…….”
“He was annihilated.”
The Clown Mask tilted his head.
“What? How did you dispose of him? He was a demon capable of destroying an entire kingdom.”
“……There was a powerful Mage.”
“Jord?”
“No. Something far more dangerous.”
“Surely you’re not suggesting that boy handled it? That mere child with only a 3 Circle?”
The Clown Mask’s expression was exactly like how the Raven Mask had looked when he first met Dezir Armang.
“His Computational Ability already surpasses Jord. And despite his youth, he’s proficient in combat. He’s no trivial opponent. Moreover, he deployed Magic of an incomprehensible nature.”
With a single spell, he’d destroyed Tadeunuf, who had even pressed Jord to his limits. That power exceeded the level of a 7 Circle.
How such Magic had been deployed remained a mystery. One thing alone was certain: the boy was a threat.
“You’ve faced him directly then. So, what’s your assessment?”
The Clown Mask seemed deeply intrigued by his account.
“Taken as a whole, he’s clearly beneath me. But when it comes to Magic Battle alone, there are few in the entire world at his level. Even what I’d considered his only weakness—the absence of a decisive spell—has become irrelevant.”
The Raven Mask had reached his conclusion.
“He is a Threat Level of the highest grade. Above Jord. He will prove to be a major obstruction in our future plans. If possible, we should eliminate him quickly.”
“Quite impressive. A powerhouse surpassing Jord, no less.”
“Don’t let your guard down.”
“Rest assured.”
The Clown Mask raised the Beer in front of him to his lips.
“We will move forward now with an intensity incomparable to before—destructively, etching our terror into every soul. And simultaneously…….”
The Clown Mask’s gaze turned toward Colora, sprawled across the floor.
“More covert than anyone else, slipping in silence toward the enemy’s heart, I will bring them crashing down from within.”

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