Ep 79. Live. (2)

Ep 79. Live. (2)

Ep 79. Live. (2)

Karas spared an apologetic glance towards the elderly archmage.

Otoka was busily waving about his wooden staff, summoning heaps of wood and stone that seemed to carve and polish themselves before melding into the broken walls and floors. The elder audibly groaned every once a while and tapped his back, though whether that was from genuine pain or pure habit remained a mystery.

“...I apologize for the trouble, Mr. Lairaff.”

“No work will get itself done.”

Ever since the Reaper incident, the Magic Institute had been nothing short of haunted; while a number of agents from the enforcement sector came to collect the numerous bodies that were littered in its grounds, nobody dared to approach the school thereafter. Resultantly, the buildings had been left abandoned in their broken, bloody mess.

Of course, once the rest of the city’s repairs were finished, there would eventually come a time when personnel would reluctantly be tasked with clearing the building – but that would at least take weeks, if not months. And it hadn’t sat right for Karas to leave the building in such a state for so long.

At first, the professor had taken it upon himself to at least clean the institute’s interiors of blood and rubbles; it wasn’t like he had any skills in construction. But when Aldrid tasked Otoka to help him out in the endeavor, it soon became apparent that the archmage’s mastery in magic rivalled the efficiency of having dozens of workers working simultaneously.

With Karas to inform the archmage of the institute’s proper design, the building had begun to rapidly regain its former appearance. Now at the morning of their one-week mark, the two were almost finished with restoring entire facility.

With a tap of his wooden staff on the ground, Otoka summoned a handful of sand that began to crystallize into a glass window. The archmage spoke while his spell began to take form.

“...Karas.”

“Yes?”

“Professor Karas...haha. Indeed, it has a nice ring to it.”

Karas quizzically tilted his head. He soon realized that the archmage wasn’t speaking to him, but instead muttering to themselves.

“...Mr. Lairaff?”

“It’s much better than your previous name.”

When the glass window finally finished its formation, the elderly mage turned to face the professor’s curious gaze. He carefully rubbed his beard, nodding his head in quiet reminiscence.

“Yes, yes...I remember now. Forgive me, my memory has been growing worse by day. It takes a while to remember such old memories. Had I recognized you sooner, I wouldn’t have dared to ask petty chores.”

Karas mused at the archmage’s sudden recognition. With literal dragons and deities previously occupying his attention, it was understandable that the archmage had glanced over a mere institute professor.

However, that unfortunately no longer seemed to be the case. Though scattered and haphazard, Otoka’s muttering did make sense when pieced together – which wasn’t a good sign.

But Karas remained expressionless, faking a tone of indifference in his answer.

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you mean by such. I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“That we haven’t. But how could I not know? Your name once echoed throughout the continent.”

“...My name is Karas.”

“It is. But was it always?”

“...”

An uncomfortable silence ensued. The archmage only grinned back, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Times have truly changed, haven’t they? How did you come to be a professor in a human city, I wonder? How did the infamous dominator come to be a dragonkin’s aid?”

“Keep talking shit about us and I’ll bury you all.”

“...”

“...”

“...”

When things quieted down around her, the steel dragon finally began to drag herself towards the ruined districts of the city.

“Tsk...what am I even doing here...”

Steel dragon Raizel: a youngling known among her elders as the problem child that never listens to others, and one of the few dragons who could list wielding violence as a hobby. There had never really been any repercussion for her unruly behavior; ever since she’d fully grown, no one could truly punish her for anything.

But recently, a new weakness had been budding anew within the dragonkin’s problem child.

- ‘You want me to do human chores AGAIN? Forget it. Even for you, I am so not doing it.’

- ‘I see. That’s too bad then.’

- ‘...Wait, that’s it?’

- ‘What more would there be? Rest, child.’

- ‘Huh? Uh...I mean...’

- ‘It’s alright. I’ll ask Ilias.’

- ‘Ilias? Why Ilias??’

- ‘I alone won’t be sufficient, and you and Ilias are the only ones I could ask this of. But since it seems that you’ll be preoccupied, I’ve not much other choice.’

- ‘...Fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it! Don’t go asking her, I’ll do it!’

Raizel knew all too well that Ilias would gladly do their lord’s favor – especially if it was helping Partivine’s civilians. The steel dragon could very well have let Serenis enlist the red dragon for help instead.

‘But then I look bad in comparison, damnit.’

Strangely enough, the steel dragon didn’t want to get on her lord’s bad side – even if it meant humiliating herself by helping humans with their meager chores.

And so, she was out in the ruined districts once again, clearing up the rubbles and participating in bringing new construction materials to the scene. Truth be told, all of it was cakewalk given Raizel’s strength – not to mention the lack of danger given her steel affinity.

The first few days had been majorly comprised of retrieving people out of the fallen buildings. With the dragon using her affinity to prevent the wreckages from further collapse, everyone had been thus far retrieved without suffering a single additional scratch.

“...”

Of course, not every person she brought out of the rubbles were alive. Otherwise, they would’ve been rescued, not retrieved.

Indeed, most had been corpses.

‘...Should check on her again sometime.’

On the first day, Light had begged the steel dragon to clear the rubbles of her house; Ilias couldn’t do it as safely as Raizel could. But unfortunately, the request had only led to undesirable revelations.

For some, it’d been a whole week; for some, it’d only been a single week.

A single week, since their loved ones were found as bloodied corpses.