Behind the surprise, there was anticipation. The power of senjutsu had worldwide renown and was just as difficult. But for them, it was just another challenge to overcome.
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|DxD|- Chapter 118- That Isn't Kazuma
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Magari twisted herself on Kuroka's lap and lay on her side. Gravel crinkled below the cart like steady sounds of a running shower. The sun still hung low, shining upon the youth who defied the norms of devil society.
Sairaorg Bael. Diehauser had preached endlessly about the boy to her and she could understand why. Sairaorg only had a lick of demonic energy in him, certainly not worthy of a Bael heir. The boy would be hard-pressed to sustain high-level magic duels, yet instead of wallowing, he pursued an unconventional path.
Magari felt a bit of intrigue. It was not everyday that unique individuals diverted from the normal flow.
"A fish seeking wings."
"Huh?"
Sairaorg raised an eyebrow. Magari had been staring at him for quite a while.
"Are you calling me a fish?"
"She's praising you, Sairaorg."
Diehauser helpfully added and Magari continued.
"I am indeed. You are perhaps the first pure-blooded devil in history to abandon their gills for lungs. It makes me quite interested to see what you will achieve."
"Hehehe…"
Sairaorg scratched the back of his head with a chuckle.
"Thanks for the praise, Granny Cat!"
"Mn."
Magari nodded, then turned her attention to Igor. Her gaze lingered heavily, for he was the strangest of all.
Ki was life, and all living beings possessed it with very few exceptions. Igor was not an exception. His ki was far more dense than some of the most accomplished people she'd met. What caught her eye, was what happened after, to his ki.
All living beings leaked ki into the world for it was a natural process. Igor's anomaly, was that he didn't leak ki. It remained enclosed within him, and the feeling he gave off was of a furnace with no chimney. It was very strange and very impossible…until now.
Rivers could not flow without shedding their volume on the shores. Fires could not roar without releasing heat. Ice thawed in heat and blood thickened on wounds, for it was an inevitability of the world. There were no eternal summers or winters, for one always had to pave the way for the other.
It was the cycle of the world, the cycle of give and take. Igor neither gave nor took, but maintained. And that, was his anomaly.
"An endless summer before my very eyes."
She murmured out loud, and Igor turned his head to her.
"Thank you, Elder Magari."
He politely thanked her praise, but she waved a dismissive paw.
"These are just observations, kitten."
The train of carts continued towards the gates unimpeded. Igor sat quietly and felt everything around him with curiousity. Somehow, he could not sense Magari: not her energy or her soul. Outside physical senses, she was invisible.
Beyond the cart, he felt the lifeforce of many other nekomata flow over him, yet as his perception stretched further and further, his brows furrowed.
His method of sensing was passive and turned him into a receiver attuned to different energies. It lacked the accuracy of active sensing, but it was quiet, simple, and non-invasive.
He opened his eyes and looked ahead. There was a long stretch of dirt road that cut right through the middle of the village. A few nekomata walked about or sat on the porches of their homes by the road.
What truly unsettled Igor was…there were barely over a hundred nekomata in this village. He'd read that they were treading towards extinction, but he never imagined it would be this terrible.
"I admire your technique, Summer, but do refrain from continuing."
"?"
Igor turned to face Magari. She lazily swished her tails, seemingly unbothered, but there was a sense of danger in her eyes that choked the throat.
"Understood, elder. I won't do it again."
He respectfully replied and ended his perusal. His actions were indeed somewhat disrespectful to Magari and the nekomata.
"..."
Sairaorg's eyes darted back and forth between Igor and Magari. He didn't quite understand what Igor had done.
{He was 'listening', Sairaorg.}
Diehauser's voice echoed in his mind and Sairaorg finally understood.
[I see. So that's what he's been using, huh?]
He found himself itching for another fight. Igor always fought as if he had eyes at the back of his head. Now, finding his reliance, Sairaorg could barely sit still.
The carts rolled into town and a few eyes fell on them. Igor paid little attention, too absorbed in rubbing Shirone's tail. There was something enamouring in watching her tail swish and sway.
Shirone had relaxed her back against his stomach and spun around the glowing orange balls with surprising focus.
The cart turned left from the main street into a smaller one. Modest homes gradually faded to wooden storehouses.
Baraquiel steered with the ease of an old merchant who'd weathered these roads many times, but senjutsu did not lie to Magari. This Kazuma was most certainly an impostor.
She stood up from Kuroka's lap and walked atop the sacks. She sat her hind legs between Igor and Sairaorg, and spoke calmly.
"Now that we are in the village, I suppose we can begin with much-needed revelations, don't you think so, Kazuya?"
"Hm."
Baraquiel chuckled to himself. Of course she'd find out. Even the best disguises could not evade a master of senjutsu.
"Forgive the intrusion, Elder Magari. My kind are yet to be welcomed in this part of the hemisphere."
Chapter 118
END