Cleio Aser, Registered at Seventeen (6)
The conversation between the man and woman seated across from each other in the quiet café was remarkably dry for a pair that looked, on the surface, so affectionate.
Both wore smiles soft enough to pass for those of lovers—but their bond was founded on mutual utility. One possessed information; the other, the ability to convert it into profit.
Cleio lifted his glass and drank what remained. The sharp sting of anise burned up his nose, clearing his head.
The harsh green liquor they had ordered in that shabby Orales District tavern-slash-café tasted unmistakably of absinthe.
Revived by the strong alcohol, Cleio gazed out the window across the street, where the lot he had purchased—now fenced off for demolition—waited. His heart swelled with pride.
He couldn't stop smiling.
'Land really is everything. When war breaks out, its price will rise tenfold easily... and until then, I'll be earning rent. It's pure gold.'
In every world, the rules of money were the same: without information, capital, and connections, it was almost impossible to profit.
The difference was simply his current position.
'I'm stuck cleaning up after the protagonist—might as well get some compensation for it.'
After verifying the first payment had cleared, he stopped by the bank and immediately transferred Dione her full commission.
Elated, the two turned their carriage around and came to inspect the property.
He had visited the Orales District several times before, but never had its dirty alleys and crumbling dirt heaps looked so lovely.
'Thanks to this, I don't need to lean on Gideon Aser's funds.'
Even now, his allowance accumulated untouched in the bank—he had other plans for that money.
As Cleio's mind spun with thoughts of expanding his real estate portfolio, a strange, unpleasant odor crept into his nose.
'What is that? Like rotting grass and damp earth… but how could there be that smell in the middle of the capital?'
Dione, too, seemed to sense something wrong. Her expression stiffened—she was far more perceptive than Cleio.
"Ray… this smell. There's only one thing that can cause it. We learned that in school—but that shouldn't be possible…"
Her tone was uncharacteristically uncertain.
Only then did Cleio realize what she meant. His Memory rippled, recalling the relevant passage.
—The blood of a demonic beast smells like rotting grass. The stench spreads far and wide.
'No way!'
"…Could it be the blood of a demonic beast?"
"You're right, Ray. Theoretically, yes—but to confirm that, we'd have to actually see one. And the last time a demonic beast appeared was nearly a thousand years ago."
"To remember your lessons so clearly, Lady Dione, is impressive."
"How could I forget? The history and legends of the Gate of Mnemosyne were drilled into us endlessly."
In the old days, there had been Gates of Mnemosyne in the Brünnen Principality, the Carolingian Kingdom, and across the Meredies Continent.
Some even claimed that before the rivers of the ruined Centrum Continent dried up, a gate had stood there too—always by the rivers that curved through their cities.
But over the centuries, all such portals to other worlds had closed.
The Gate of Mnemosyne on the banks of the Tempus River was the last one left in existence.
The Royal Capital Guard and its academy had originally been founded for the purpose of guarding and observing that gate.
'And in The Prince of Albion manuscript, the gate in Lundain opens again after a thousand years… during Arthur's era.'
Cleio hurriedly activated Perception.
His hearing and smell sharpened explosively.
He detected, six blocks away, the thunderous footfalls of a massive four-legged beast, two distinct roars, and the stench of blood spattering into the air.
'A twin-headed wolf—Vargr? But Arthur wasn't supposed to fight it until he's nineteen… it's two years too early! Damn it!'
Vargr—the twin-headed wolf—was the first demonic beast to emerge from the Gate of Mnemosyne in a millennium.
Cleio's heart pounded, but amidst the beast's rampage he also sensed the presence of pursuers—warriors radiating the energy of aether.
Knights, using sword aura, here in the heart of the capital.
'Thank goodness… if the knights are on it, they'll handle it.'
The street outside the café was quiet; only a handful of customers remained inside, oblivious to the coming danger.
'It might actually be safer to stay put than to step outside without knowing where the beast will go.'
Steeling his nerves, Cleio downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. It burned all the way down his throat.
"Lady Dione, just in case—do you happen to know any combat spells?"
"I'm a mage specialized in mana-stone crafting. I forgot [Ignite], and I never even learned [Lightning Bolt]."
"A shame."
"I'm busy enough memorizing formulas that actually apply to my field. Why would I waste time on ones I'll never use? But judging by that question—something dangerous is coming, isn't it?"
"There's one demonic beast—and four knights chasing it. They'll be here any moment."
Dione's face went pale.
"A demonic beast?! I can't hear or see anything—was that… a prediction?"
"Something like that. My foresight's gone a bit off, but yes."
"If you knew there was a prediction like that, we shouldn't have come here today!"
"I truly didn't know it would be today. Still, since the Royal Capital Guard knights are already in pursuit, I'm sure they'll—"
Cleio didn't finish his sentence.
KWA-KWA-KWA-KWA-BOOM!
A single-story café couldn't withstand the impact—something vaulted over it from behind, landing heavily on the street beyond the window.
A gigantic, gray wolf—large enough to match four warhorses, and with two heads—let out a terrible roar.
GRRRRRRRRRRR!
Blood poured down its back and hind legs, its eyes wild with fury. The Oath shimmered, activating Understanding.
[Vargr]
Classification: Demonic Beast
Level: 5
Both Cleio and Dione froze. When terror reached a certain threshold, the human voice simply failed.
Through the thin pane of glass, the beast's gaze met the patrons inside. Madness flickered in its eyes.
Clang!Crash!SHATTER!
A trembling reverberation filled the air—and a heartbeat later, the café's front windows exploded inward.
Cleio reacted instinctively, hastily casting a defensive spell.
There was no time to come up with a proper incantation—Cleio simply filled all four spell slots with the most brute-force trigger words he could think of.
That was how terrifying the demonic beast's presence was.
"[Defense] [Defense] [Defense] [Defense]!!!"
A wide circle of light spread, wrapping around the café owner, the patrons, Dione, and Cleio all at once.
BOOM—! BOOM—!
The massive wolf, baring its razor-sharp fangs, slammed into Cleio's barrier spell again and again.
Each time it struck, golden sparks of aether scattered through the air.
The beast couldn't force even a paw past the edge of the circle.
Dione, utterly dazed, had ended up pressing close to Cleio—but instead of hiding behind him, she stepped forward as though to shield the boy herself.
"Thank you… What now? If it were a person I could think of something, but a demonic beast is beyond me."
"It's as before. The Capital Guard Knights are on their way. We'll wait."
Cleio was tense himself, but Dione's visible trembling made him instinctively feign calm.
Get a grip. With Perception, I can read its movements. I've still got plenty of aether. The knights are heading this way—they heard the noise. Just hold out.
The beast hurled itself at the barrier one last time, only to rebound violently and crash into the iron fence surrounding Cleio's property across the street.
The recoil was so fierce the fence tore apart, and the beast rolled into the half-demolished construction site that belonged to him.
Foam bubbled from one of its twin maws, blood spattering as its whole body shuddered. It looked ready to collapse.
It's dying… good—wait, no! That's bad! Not there!!!
The beast dying was fine.
But not on his land!
His Memory rewound at blinding speed.
In the original manuscript, the beast that had burst from the Gate was slain by Arthur at an abandoned demolition site on the outskirts.
Its purple blood, reeking like nothing anyone had ever smelled before, drenched the earth—a hellish scene.
Claiming the beast's remains and blood might have unpredictable effects, the Royal Capital Guard sealed off the area and sent in research magi to conduct an investigation.
And of course, there turned out to be no effect on humans! Those damn researchers just went crazy the moment they heard "demonic beast's blood" and swarmed the place!
Fascinated by the first demonic beast in a millennium, the magi took eighteen months to finish their experiments and reports.
Naturally, all demolition and construction work was frozen during that time.
If the beast died here, the same thing would happen to Cleio.
His hotel project would be delayed a year and a half—crippled before it even began!
Hell no! Don't you dare die on my land!!!
He didn't have a wand, but there was no time to care. His body moved before his mind could catch up.
Grabbing Dione's parasol as a makeshift wand, Cleio sprinted out through the shattered window into the street.
Crunch—CRASH!
"[Leap, swift as the messenger's feet!]"
He filled two slots, activating [Leap] and [Hover], propelling his body skyward—a combo he'd practiced here and there over the break.
The fallen wolf suddenly twitched at the surge of his aether, rising with a snarl.
Its tattered frame shook violently.
Fwsh—Snort—!
KRAAAAAAAAH—!
For a single instant, Vargr's gleaming eyes locked with Cleio's.
Got you!
Immediately, he expanded his circle to maximum radius—Level 4—and leapt again, putting as much distance as possible between each bound to draw the beast's attention.
Come on! Follow me!
The wolf let out another bone-rattling roar and charged after him as though it had never faltered.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!
Cleio vaulted over the deserted streets where the residents had already been evacuated, racing toward the outskirts.
I have to get it away from here, no matter what!
Behind him, the beast's howls and pounding steps grew louder.
Perception made every sound painfully clear—its claws scraping stone, its ragged breath, the ground quaking beneath its weight.
He didn't dare look back.
Over and over, he reignited his spells, pouring every drop of energy he had into keeping the chase alive. His lungs burned, his chest felt ready to burst.
With his free hand, he fumbled through his jacket pocket.
His hands trembled too much from adrenaline—he could barely get a grip on the spatial pouch inside.
Then—
SWISH!
The beast lunged beneath him as he hung suspended midair, cutting him off at his landing point.
WOOOOOOOOOO!!!
It twisted its twin heads, snarling, bloodstained fangs bared.
"Uwaaahhh!!!"
Cleio screamed, but at least Perception let him see the attack coming.
Not that seeing helps when you can't dodge!
He cut off [Hover] to drop out of the air just as the wolf lunged.
Crash—THUD!
He tumbled into a heap of bricks in a half-demolished ruin. It was a pitiful sight, but he had no time for dignity.
Cleio wrestled desperately with his pocket.
Damn it—why won't this thing open?!
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