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Chapter 271: Null City (8)

“They’re… they’re multiplying!”

“…Tch.”

What suddenly barged into the ward was a swarm of mannequins dressed in nurse uniforms.

“Patient, we’ll begin surgery.”

“Once you undergo the procedure, you’ll recover quickly.”

“Please come this way.”

It was only natural that a fight broke out when they tried to drag away the Black Tower mages by force.

The problem was that their numbers kept increasing.

‘Each one isn’t that strong…’

But there were too many of them.

They had already taken down more than thirty, yet the fallen mannequins were filling the small ward, leaving barely any space to step.

And more nurses kept pouring in.

‘We need to get into the hallway.’

If they kept fighting here, they’d be cornered and killed.

Just as Killian resolved himself to take some injuries to break through—

KWAANG!

A thunderous roar came from the hallway, and the mannequins were swept aside like fallen leaves.

At the same time, a welcome face appeared at the door.

“Whew, not too late, am I?”

“Oscar!”

Killian’s face lit up with relief and joy.

“Perfect timing. I was about to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.”

“Good thing I came. The hallway’s crawling with them too.”

Oscar had followed the loudest sounds of battle—and clearly guessed right.

Scanning the room, he asked,

“Where are Veronica and Fran?”

“They went to find the master of this space. And for the record, I didn’t stay here because I was scared. The warriors of the forest believe even scissors can defeat rock. But they didn’t believe me.”

‘Scissors? Defeat? What is this guy even saying?’

Oscar looked sour, then nodded.

“Well, anyway… but going after the master of the space? That’s reckless.”

“We couldn’t just sit around waiting for you either. That wouldn’t be what comrades do.”

“…True enough.”

Oscar frowned.

From what he’d seen upstairs, the level of magic wasn’t that high.

‘At most, a clumsy 6th-level space mage. That’s what I thought.’

But this hospital was on an entirely different level of refinement.

Which meant the caster holding it together was stronger than expected.

‘Granted, their destructive power is impressive… but still.’

It was impossible not to worry.

Oscar reached out and tugged at the strings of space.

“First, let’s get the missing people outside. This way.”

“Wait, let me grab my comrades first.”

A mage hauled his fellows onto his back, and Oscar transported them out.

Then, leaving the ward, he asked,

“Were those all the missing people?”

“No idea. We’ll have to keep looking.”

And so began the search.

They found no one on the first floor, nor on the second.

Only upon reaching the third floor did they discover two mercenaries bound hand and foot in a surgery prep room.

“Mmmpf! Mmmmpf!”

“Mmmphhh!”

Seeing them, the two burst into tears of relief.

Oscar hurried to free them.

“P-please save us! I don’t even have any money!”

“M-my mother’s sick at home—please!”

“Calm down. You’re safe now. We came to rescue you.”

One of them swallowed hard.

“R-rescue? Then… your affiliation?”

“White Tower.”

“Wh-White Tower!? Not the Black Tower?”

“That’s right. We’re cooperating with the Black Tower’s request for this search.”

The mercenaries exchanged panicked looks.

“We… we have to get out right now!”

“This is all a setup by those Black Tower lunatics!”

“What? A setup? What do you mean?”

Oscar frowned.

One mercenary licked his cracked lips and explained,

“If it wasn’t, why would a Black Tower elder be walking around here openly?!”

“A… Black Tower elder?”

“Yeah! A 7th-level master! What was her name again?”

“Banavel… something. Creepy woman!”

Oscar and Killian exchanged grim looks.

If their words were true, then the Black Tower’s radicals had gone way too far.

“We’ll look into it. For now, head outside.”

“Wait—outside means right into Black Tower mages, doesn’t it? Can’t we just stay with you?”

“We’re about to confront that 7th-level elder. If you want to tag along, we won’t stop you.”

“…Send us outside.”

“Suddenly I’m very worried about my poor mother at home.”

Veteran mercenaries indeed—they knew when to back out.

Oscar sent them out through the space rift, then glanced upward.

“So the only floor left is the fourth.”

The moment he said it—

Crack, craaack!

Fissures tore through the surrounding space.

“Oscar, what’s going on?”

“The space is collapsing. Usually happens when the caster holding it together dies.”

“Then Fran and Veronica killed the Black Tower elder?”

Oscar shook his head.

“Impossible.”

No matter how destructive their magic, it wasn’t enough against a master.

So the reason space was unraveling was simple.

“The space-caster and the elder are separate people. Which means…”

Fran and Veronica must have killed the caster.

Realization struck Oscar, and he shouted,

“Damn it! Hurry—we need to escape, now!”

* * *

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Meanwhile.

“Veronica, you okay?”

Gulp, gulp.

Veronica drained the high-grade potion Fran handed her, then leaned back against the wall. She shot him a pained look.

“I told you to wait just a moment, didn’t I?”

“S-sorry… I got carried away.”

“Haa…”

Now she understood why White Tower potions were so popular—her bone-deep aches were already fading.

Glancing at the corpse of the demon on the floor, she muttered,

“Next time, listen.”

“…Okay.”

Seeing him droop like a scolded child, she scratched her head awkwardly.

“But… you fought well. I couldn’t have done it alone. So… good job.”

“R-really?!”

Brightening, Fran pulled out more potions.

“Want another? I brought a lot.”

“…Just sprinkle a little on my shoulder.”

As the two wrapped up after battle—

“Well, well.”

Without warning, someone appeared in the middle of the surgery room.

A woman in a black Rococo-style dress.

She wore a wide, ornate hat, and even indoors carried a parasol.

She gazed down at the demon corpse and murmured:

“So it’s dead?”

“…”

“…”

Neither Fran nor Veronica could move.

The suffocating aura flooding the room left them struggling to breathe.

“Was it you two?”

The voice from beneath the parasol made Fran flinch.

He steeled himself to answer—

“Y-yeah—urk!”

In an instant, his body was yanked forward.

A black hand shot from the ceiling and gripped his throat, dangling him in the air.

“Naughty child. Do you know how hard I worked to bring this here from the north?”

“Ghkk—khh!”

Up close, her face was grotesque.

From afar she’d seemed young, but under the thick, clownish makeup, age-carved wrinkles showed through.

More terrifying than her looks was her aura.

‘7th-level. A master…!’

Fran tried to escape by dissolving into wind with Stormbreaker—only to feel the grip tighten again.

“Running somewhere?”

Crunch!

The black hand seized his throat once more.

‘She can… grab the wind?’

That should’ve been impossible.

Watching, Veronica ignored her pain and stood.

“W-wait! You’re with the Black Tower, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Then why attack us… oh.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You’re one of the radicals, aren’t you?”

“How rude. Call us orthodox, not radicals.”

Crack!

The black hand squeezed harder, choking Fran to silence.

Veronica couldn’t take it anymore—she gathered her power.

“Radical, orthodox—who cares. Let him go!”

Overcraft.

Thirty-one magic circles whirled around her, forming a high-tier spell.

Fwoooosh!

A colossal spear of wind shot forward like lightning—an attack that had skewered even 5th-level demons before they could react.

“My, how novel. Sacrificing refinement and power for sheer speed? Quite impressive.”

“…!”

The black hand split apart, catching the spear mid-flight.

‘Hopeless. Too wide a gap.’

That was her strongest, fastest strike—and it hadn’t even made her flinch.

‘What now?’

She had thought mastering Overcraft meant she’d grown strong, but the reality was cruel.

Still, despair wasn’t an option.

“If one big hit won’t work…”

Then drown her in countless small ones.

Dozens of circles spawned around her, unleashing hundreds of Wind Cutters.

“Block this, you senile hag.”

“…What?”

Swish, swish, swish!

The blades sliced past her.

She swatted most aside easily—except one.

Drip.

Blood welled from beneath her heavy makeup, trickling down her cheek.

“You… called me a hag? Not even ‘madam’? Look at this flawless skin! And senile, you said?!”

Her face twisted with demonic rage.

KWAANG!

The surgery doors burst open, and two men rushed in.

“Fran! Veronica! Are you safe?!”

“…Oh dear.”

Seeing Fran’s pale face strangled in midair, Oscar immediately tugged on the strings of space.

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