The two towers were identical in shape, though their colors differed slightly,one leaned toward a warm, vibrant orange, while the other was a pale, bone-white.
Sebloro Joseph scanned the surroundings, his mind racing with speculation. He was part of a younger generation within his organization, and while his experience was limited, he knew enough to recognize the famous Twin Towers of Iselma.
The Tower of the Sun and the Tower of the Moon.
In other words, he had just stepped into the territory of the Iselma family,a massive, sprawling magical workshop.
Here, magical formulas were woven into the very fabric of the landscape. They were in the air, in the lake water, and even in the filtered sunlight. In the world of magi, such specialized domains,refined and maintained by prestigious families for centuries,were the most dangerous places on earth.
Unless one possessed extremely high-level Presence Concealment, infiltration was suicide. Perhaps only the Old Man who had returned from the Tower at the End of the World could move through such a place undetected.
Touko Aozaki walked toward the Tower of the Sun on the eastern side. Everyone they passed bowed respectfully, completely ignoring Sebloro as if he were nothing more than a ghost. She moved through the corridors with a practiced ease, as if she had lived there for years.
After opening the door to her workshop, Touko pulled back the heavy curtains. The lingering glow of the setting sun was rapidly fading into the deepening night.
She pulled out a paper cigarette case adorned with a Taiji pattern. With a sharp flick of her Zippo, a flame flared, and a thin trail of smoke began to curl into the air.
"Put him on the bed," she said, her voice cool and detached.
Sebloro carefully laid Wayland out on the mattress. Although the wound over his heart had healed, Wayland looked lifeless, his skin pale and devoid of any spark of vitality.
Touko's gaze followed the drifting smoke, her thoughts drifting to the location Irigal had shared with her.
'Should I go?' she wondered.
She had borrowed a significant amount of money from the Clock Tower over the years using her sister's name; seeing Aoko again would certainly be... interesting.
Snuffing out the cigarette, she walked over to the bed and grabbed Wayland's wrist. With a sharp tap on the back of his hand, a trio of red, shield-shaped Command Spells manifested.
When Irigal had shared Aoko's location, she had also revealed the secret of Wayland's hand: the Command Spells that marked him as a Master in the coming Fifth Holy Grail War.
Touko narrowed her eyes. She was no stranger to the Holy Grail War; she had even crafted prosthetic limbs for Lord Kayneth during the Fourth War in Fuyuki.
The process was clear: first, she had to strip the Command Spells from the failing body. Then, she would construct a perfect puppet replica of Wayland and transfer both the soul and the spells into the new vessel.
Seven magical circuits. Irigal had been adamant about that number,she believed 'seven' held a special significance for Wayland and refused to allow any alteration.
To Touko, the client's request was a contract. She had no intention of doing anything unnecessary.
She released Wayland's wrist and held her palm open over the Command Spells. Her eyes flared with a faint, crystalline light as she initiated an instantaneous analysis of the magical structure.
The Command Spells vibrated violently before detaching themselves from Wayland's skin.
***
In the stifling darkness, Wayland felt as though he were falling. It was a sensation akin to Lucifer's descent from heaven,a nine-day plummet into the abyss of the Underworld.
But he had no concept of time.
Above him, world-growth, the all-encompassing sunlight, and the vibrant life of the surface world remained out of reach. There were flowers swaying in the breeze, stars shimmering in the velvet night, and clear, cool streams... that was the world of the living.
Further down.
There was only a cold, desolate wilderness that stretched on forever, devoid of light and sound.
He couldn't hear anything. His body alternated between freezing cold and searing heat as he drifted through a void that felt like the bottom of the sea or the space between stars. He walked like a ghost through a dream, caught in a state of perpetual disorientation, with no path forward and no way back.
He floated in the nothingness for what felt like an eternity.
Finally, deep within the darkness, Wayland felt a glimmer of consciousness returning. His incorporeal soul slammed against a set of bars.
He opened his eyes and realized he was trapped inside a cage of lightning.
His thoughts were sluggish and blurred. He simply stared into the void, losing track of time.
Then, one day, he saw it,a massive, swirling bloom of pale yellow and bright light.
His consciousness snapped back into focus.
He could hear voices,familiar, distant voices.
Petals seemed to wrap around the dark gold cage, and the air was filled with a scent that felt like home. He felt himself being lifted into a warm, safe embrace.
"Hey, hey, hey! Don't go overboard now!"
Whose voice was that?
Wayland's eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring at a stranger,a young man with a nervously friendly face.
"Who are you?" Wayland croaked.
"Sebloro," the young man replied, his eyes darting toward their joined hands. "Now... do you think you could let go of my hand?"
"Huh?"
Wayland realized then that he was gripping Sebloro's hand with a frantic strength. He immediately let go, a cold shiver running down his spine.
[Translated and Rewritten by Shika_Kagura]