[V16C12] Caught by the Hand

The spectator room had a white screen set up to display the battle. Four sofas were placed for the Seven Sages to sit, with two in the front and two in the back.

Behind those sofas was a simple table set for the recorders. Cyril was seated in one of the chairs there.

His heart had been pounding for a while now, he clasped his sweaty fingers above the table.

Pikeh crawled up Cyril’s left shoulder and peeked out from his collar to speak to him.

“Is it too hot?”

“Eh?”

“You’re sweating.”

“…I’m fine.”

Cyril whispered back and lowered his head.

The white screen displayed everything that happened in the arena. How Monica explained her new spell with pride, as Isaac watched with flushed cheeks and an expression of delight.

Cyril was shocked to see that. Perhaps it was even the greatest shock of his life.

First came the panic, followed by confusion making his head go blank. By the time he returned to his senses, Cyril found himself shocked again, this time by the selfish emotion bubbling up from deep within his chest.

(No, I cannot be directing these emotions at him!!)

Panicking, Cyril pushed the eruption of emotions back down into his chest. Then, he held the lid shut and told himself, “Stay in there, do not come out again”.

Recently, he had been constantly losing himself to his earthly desires. Cyril was now painfully aware of them.

This reminded him of something that Sophocles once told him.

—— “You have a bad habit of only looking at the clean side, for others as well as yourself.”

(You were exactly right, Sophocles. I should have listened to your wisdom.)

Even so, Cyril hoped to be given some additional time. He was terrified to admit the emotion he developed for Isaac.

At that moment, a clicking sound echoed through the room, causing Cyril to flinch. However, it was not the lid on his heart bursting open. Someone had simply opened the door.

(It must be Monica. She’s back already…)

Cyril quickly lowered his head to prevent Monica from recognizing him.

＊　＊　＊

Monica saw the recorder ducking his head, and her first thought was…

(Oh, it’s Cyril-sama.)

It took her a few seconds to see through the disguise.

The decisive factor was his hands. Specifically, the length of each finger, the location of his joints, the shape of the nails, and so on.

Monica remembered all of the numbers making up Cyril’s physique with relatively high precision. Sometimes, her heart even skipped a beat when she saw the same numbers in documents or tables. There was no mistaking him.

The bulge under the shoulder area of his robes seemed to be the two weasels.

(Probably Thule on the right shoulder, Pikeh on the left.)

At this point, she had completely forgotten about her girlish worry of “How am I supposed to act the next time I see Cyril-sama…?” Now, her thoughts were completely consumed by Cyril’s bizarre appearance.

(I wonder why Cyril-sama is disguised as a recorder…)

Raul kept glancing anxiously in Cyril’s direction from the sofa, so he probably knew the circumstances.

Monica thought it over.

Perhaps he had been assigned some important mission from the Library Society, similar to how Monica herself infiltrated Serendia Academy on a top-secret mission.

Giving her usual greeting of “Hello, Cyril-sama” would break his cover and cause trouble for him.

In which case, she should remain silent and ask about the disguise later. Then, she would offer to help out any way she can.

Monica resisted the urge to sneak glances at Cyril as she made her way to the sofa.

“Nee-san, over here.”

Silas called her over to the left sofa in the front row, then scooted over to give her the center position.

Monica bowed her head and sat down next to Silas.

“Oh, um, sorry…”

“Don’t worry about it. Ike is your disciple, so I made sure to save you a front row seat.”

“T-Thank you so much!”

The front-left sofa had Monica and Silas. Behind them, on the back-left sofa, were Raul and Ray, both without disciples.

Louis sat on the front-right sofa alone, with crossed legs and a grumpy look on his face. And behind him, on the back-right sofa, were Mary and Bradford.

Monica was happy to sit next to Silas, as they were both cheering for Isaac. Anywhere else would be a bit awkward.

Once everyone was seated, Mary stood up, approached the crystal ball, and placed her hand on it.

“Can you hear my voice, Clarence?”

“Yes, Milady.”

“Then I will now explain the rules. First, has everyone put on the armband for measuring mana~?”

Projected onto the white screen was the image of Clarence raising the armband on his left wrist for everyone to see. The other three participants also wore the same armband on their left wrists.

This armband was designed to light up its gemstone once the wearer’s mana drops below one-tenth of max capacity.

(Ike’s max capacity is 153… But right now, he’s reduced his mana to around 75 to maintain that face.)

Monica clenched her hands above her lap.

A mana capacity of 75 was equivalent to a novice-level mage, so Isaac was at an overwhelming disadvantage. He might lose to a single hit from Glenn’s high-powered spells.

In which case, the best strategy was to pit his opponents against each other, forcing them to expend their mana at no cost to himself.

However, simply winning the match was not enough for Isaac. He needed to prove his worth as a mage to Louis and Mary.

(I know it will be difficult, but…)

Monica believed Isaac could overcome this challenge.

This was not just bias for her disciple.

She knew how capable he was, how much he loved magic, as well as… how cunning and devious he could be.

Monica still remembered how, back in their Serendia Academy days, Isaac pushed the lead role of the play onto Glenn during the school festival. Such displays of cleverness were still fresh in her memory.

(Ike, do your best… I know you can do it!)

As Monica silently cheered him on, Mary continued her explanation of the rules.

During the magical battle, physical attacks were rendered ineffective.

Getting hit by a spell would result in a depletion of mana proportional to the damage taken, and participants were defeated once their mana dropped below one-tenth of max capacity.

Stepping outside of the barrier would result in disqualification.

The time limit was one hour. If they timed out, then the winner would be the one with the most mana remaining. And so on…

“And also, for those of you who can use flight magic. The flag tied to the tallest tree in the forest will be your marker~. Going any higher than that will disqualify you, okay~?”

Glenn was probably the only one who needed to be careful about that. On the white screen, he could be seen shielding his eyes from the sun and searching for the flag.

After confirming that no one had questions, Mary turned around to face Monica and Louis.

“Next, let us establish the rules for the spectators. Monica-chan, the voices from the spectator room will reach everyone inside the barrier, right?”

“Y-Yes!”

“In that case, the spectators are strictly forbidden from mentioning anything about the positions or movements of the participants. The masters are only allowed to cheer their disciples on, okay?”

This was an issue pointed out by Louis when Monica proposed the audio transmission idea.

The spectators could see everything happening in the arena on the white screen. This meant it was possible to tell their disciple where the others were hiding.

That would overturn the premise of the magical battle, so they decided to restrict the spectators to cheering only.

Next, Mary looked directly at Louis in the front row and repeated her question.

“Are we clear, Louis-chan?”

“…Why are you asking me twice?”

“Well~. Because you’re the type of man who will pretend to cheer while using secret code words to send info on enemy positions, right?”

“If that is what you’re worried about, then you can rest assured.”

Louis placed a hand over his chest and continued with the innocent face of a saint.

“Glenn does not have the brainpower to memorize code words.”

“Master Louis, what are code words?”

On the white screen, Glenn could be seen asking the pillar that question.

Louis shrugged, as if to say, “See what I mean?”

Mary chuckled and turned her attention back to the crystal ball.

“The starting bell will ring in five minutes. This time can be used to position yourself with flight magic or set traps. However, you are prohibited from attacking your opponents. Think carefully about your actions, and… you may start moving now.”

＊　＊　＊

“…You may start moving now.”

Right as the voice from above gave them permission to move, Isaac ran off into the forest. The other three also split off in different directions.

Since magic required chanting, the standard strategy was to hide yourself at the start of a magical battle.

Isaac turned his neck slightly to catch a glimpse of Glenn, who was running in the opposite direction.

(As I thought, Dudley-kun hesitated to use flight magic.)

Flying through a forest was difficult due to trees being in the way, and going above the trees meant you had no cover. Moreover, going too high resulted in disqualification. In which case, running was the better option—or so Glenn must have concluded.

This was extremely convenient for Isaac, as flight magic could counter almost all of his spells.

“Let’s begin, Wil.”

The lizard Wildianu, who was hidden in the collar of Isaac’s robe, responded in a whisper.

“I’m surprised, Master… You even managed to predict the arena.”

“Considering that all of the Seven Sages are spectating, and the participants included people with high mana capacity like Dudley-kun, the choices were limited to begin with.”

Isaac’s spells were very dependent on the terrain, so he narrowed down the possibilities in advance. Naturally, he had also researched the talents and mana capacities of the other participants.

For this magical battle, Isaac intended to compete in accordance with the rules.

In other words, he was prepared to do anything and everything as long as it did not violate the rules.

He gathered as much information as possible. He flashed his rifle as psychological warfare. He brought a bunch of new equipment under his robe.

If something would help him win—even unrelated to magic—he had no reason not to take advantage of it.

“Now then, time to live up to my beloved master’s expectations.”

Once he confirmed that there was sufficient distance between himself and the other participants, Isaac started chanting.

A ball of water the size of a person’s head formed above his left hand. He held it there and made a pulling motion with his right hand.

(This is a spell I have to use at the beginning.)

And so, Isaac continued running. Until he was ready to unveil the first of his new techniques.

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