“How far has the evacuation of the audience been progressed?”
Max, the captain of the Craft Trading Guild’s soldiers and delegated field commander by His Excellency the Viscount, asked the guard.
“The evacuation is complete. Some students are showing symptoms of poisoning, but the Department of Alchemy is treating them immediately as planned.”
“Your Excellency’s foresight is shining bright.”
Although he didn’t expect such a violent and reckless method, it was gratifying to have prepared for the cult’s gas terror.
Max grabbed the railing of the airship and looked down at the ground.
The tournament building, shaped like a circular arena, was completely filled with purple billowing gas.
The gas swirled like a boiling poison in a pot, covering the stadium and filling the audience seats.
The circular building acted like a sealed chamber, trapping the gas inside. The purple gas, heavier than air, filled the interior without easily escaping.
In fact, it would have been problematic even if it were discharged to the outside immediately. With event booths lined up around the building, it was necessary to finish evacuating the surroundings to prevent further casualties.
Ironically, they were using wind magic at every entrance of the building to block the gas from exiting.
“According to the faculty of the Department of Alchemy, the vapor pressure of the gas is low, so it will take about 20 minutes to discharge after evacuating the perimeter. Only after that can proper suppression be carried out.”
“Foolish radicals. Do they think they’ll just carry out a suicide attack?”
It was common to bring an airship. It was within the realm of expectation to hover the airship above the arena and bomb it with gas.
However, that was not the case. It was rather reckless as the airship sped up endlessly while being shot at by anti-air guns, crashing right in the middle of the arena.
Naturally, the fallen airship was wrecked, but the impulsive crash exploded and released poison gas that spread rapidly.
“Still, it seems we avoided major damage since Your Excellency prepared for one of the terror scenarios.”
While the reckless crash of the airship was unexpected, the invasion of the arena was something that His Excellency had foreseen. After all, the Lady Duchess Alshire was a target for assassination. There was no easier assassination than to disrupt during a tournament duel.
Thus, as soon as the airship crashed, the magic circle of the barrier was activated to separate the arena from the audience seats and temporarily block the gas that was about to spread to the audience. Thanks to evacuating the audience in the meantime, the damage was minimal.
“But…”
It was still difficult to rescue Melissa and Alshire, who were trapped in the gas of the arena.
“Is it true that it will take 20 minutes to release the gas? Bring back a way to shorten the time considering the manpower of the wizards!”
“Yes!”
Max tightened his grip on the airship’s railing. The arena was obscured by gas, making it impossible to see the situation.
The felonious demonic terrorists that survived the airship crash made gunfire amidst the gas. They were probably trying to kill Alshire as per the cult’s request.
Since the Knight Corps had not yet arrived, they could do whatever they pleased.
A soldier pointed towards the other side.
“His Excellency has returned!”
Turning his head, he saw a girl with pink hair riding a white broomstick flying in.
The girl flew to the railing of the airship and stopped in front of Max. She brushed her hair aside and looked down at the tournament arena.
“What’s the situation?”
Her voice, usually lively, was cold and different.
His Excellency the Viscount would immediately guess that his friends were in danger just from the sight before him, yet he maintained his composure. It was a rational demeanor that contrasted sharply with the soft appearance of someone who couldn’t live without her friends.
Max was once again convinced that Craft’s innocent demeanor was just an act.
Even though His Excellency ordered the press to publish a bizarre explanation that he was caught up in a coup while the mastermind was Max, it was all just a media manipulation interview.
Max conveyed the situation.
“According to the faculty, although it takes about 20 minutes to process the gas, we are planning to bomb the building’s exterior with the airship to shorten the time.”
“So, the evacuation of the audience is finished?”
“Yes.”
Upon hearing the answer, the girl’s expression relaxed. It was as though she realized she didn’t need to be tied down as the control tower.
“Then, Max, focus on evacuating the surroundings and preventing casualties.”
The girl glared at the arena.
“I’m going to go rescue them.”
“Excuse me?”
The white broom accelerated sharply. The wind picked up, and her pink hair flowed like a tail.
“Your Excellency?!”
Max leaned far over the railing to watch her.
“It’s dangerous! The rescue operation is supposed to wait until the gas disperses…”
Then he hesitated.
As he saw the Viscount confidently flying into the purple gas like a puffy cloud, something strange came to mind.
Her action seemed like impulsively rushing into danger, unable to control her emotions when a friend’s life was at stake.
But Max knew Craft was not that kind of person.
The rumors about the Knight Corps flickered in his mind.
Wasn’t it said that he caught the demonic mercenary captain and declared that a useless tool was to be disposed of?
If that were the case, the remaining reason would be…
She would either already know the gas or be involved with it and therefore possess an antidote that made her unafraid.
No way.
Was it true that this was a terror instigation to strengthen power, and now she was going to take care of the terrorists herself?
Or was she trying to show a sacrifice for her friends now that her recent innocent image management wasn’t working out?
If she could just rescue the two students trapped in the arena, the reckless terror of the airship crash could be effectively dealt with without damage. As if it had been pre-planned.
Before long, the Viscount had disappeared into the purple gas.
Max cut off any further thoughts of expansion.
It was meaningless to ponder whether or not it was true.
After all, Craft had always been like this.
#
Melissa sat down against the outer wall of the arena. The magic wand in her hand created wind and pushed the surrounding gas away.
A fit of intermittent coughing escaped her.
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief for the unrefined cough. The white handkerchief was stained with red marks.
Mother, I’m sorry.
I failed to keep the teaching of always watching for the signs of disaster.
Focusing too much on my match against Belamont, I couldn’t react quickly. There’s no excuse.
I’m sorry.
The number of teachings I fail to follow keeps increasing.
Can I really lead Camelot well as I am?
I’ve been having such thoughts lately.
Good Pastel, um…
She’s been quite suspicious lately, but she’s still the good Pastel who is getting her hands dirty to save her clan. Like with smuggling or taking control of administrative power on the Sky Island.
Though those acts are gauche, uncultured, and greedy, wasn’t it her duty as the sole surviving clan leader of Craft?
Willingly getting her hands dirty for the deceased members of the clan, enduring blame, and donning a terrible reputation.
Binding her life in the past and throwing her life into the future.
If it were me.
If it were me…
Even if I had to, I don’t think I could.
After all, it’s too disgraceful.
To decide with my own hands a future where I receive no understanding, only insults. I can’t endure such humiliation.
That’s right.
Lately, I keep thinking that way.
Maybe my mother’s teachings aren’t wrong. Not everyone, but some of them might be.
Reflecting on what I’ve done during the second semester, Pastel would definitely be a friend to avoid if following my mother’s teachings.
But I don’t want to do that.
As the dignified heir of Camelot, I can’t betray the responsible clan leader of Craft.
That would be unbefitting of a noble.
I’m sorry.
From the start of the second semester, I ignored teachings for confirmation and followed Pastel to visit Belamont’s dormitory. We enjoyed tea time even if it was at a somewhat distant table.
Even though the shallow Belamont raised her voice and made a fuss, I have no regrets.
The cookies we shared were delicious.
Well.
Is this what Pastel called treason?
I’ve become a rebel.
Melissa wiped her mouth with the now-red handkerchief.
But perhaps my mother was right.
Had I ignored Belamont from the start as my mother said, I wouldn’t have neglected to watch the signs of disaster while focusing on the match.
That’s right.
If I had ignored Pastel from the beginning, hadn’t bound myself to that baseless declaration of friendship, hadn’t made friends at all…
Would this have happened?
Mother.
Dear Mother.
But still.
I have no regrets.
The cookies were delicious, and the girl in front of me is beautiful.
“Melissa!”
Pastel, who had let out a small scream, halted her broomstick. She scanned the obscured surroundings hidden by gas, then dismounted.
“Are you coughing up blood?!”
“It’s just a simple cough.”
Melissa answered gently while wiping the blood from her mouth and folding her handkerchief.
“What happened to the audience? The gas spread to the audience seats. Did you get them evacuated?”
“Is this really the time for you to be worrying about that?!”
Eek.
Pastel let out a silent scream and fidgeted. Yet her hands calmly pulled out the emergency antidote, showcasing exceptional composure.
“That’s right.”
Melissa smiled.
“You must have taken care of it.”
Pastel replied slightly angrily.
“Don’t just smile, drink it already!”
“I will.”
The antidote tasted like candy water.
