Chapter 53: Indescribable Malice Faced with heat of never-ending intensity, Nightingale staggered back and threw an arm over his eyes.
The world seemed to ignite, rippling as the blue fire swallowed the mist. Light carved through the fog like a blade, flooding the terrace until every shadow was forced to retreat.
For a fleeting second, all he could perceive was the roar of the flames, and the sight of Rose standing at the center of it all, outlined in blinding white like a goddess born from fire.
The Gremlins shrieked and staggered back as smoke erupted from their blistering skin. Even at a far distance, they were still affected by the "Fire."
Unfortunately for them, their torment was nowhere near over.
"Tsk!"
The caster gritted her teeth audibly, painfully, and without regard to her own mouth. For some unexplainable reason, she was showing great malice towards lesser fiends. Most Awakened would have simply killed them and be done with it.
However, it seemed that the magician found such a simple action distasteful. Unbound, she took a step forward.
Step!
Nightingale did not understand the source of all this malice, nor did he know what terrible sin the lowly fiends had committed against her, but knew better than to get involved himself. Which was why he remained at a relatively safe distance and watched the scene unfold.
Step! Step!
There were fifteen meters apart.
Flaming Rose filled half of that gap in just three steps.
Completely frozen, the Gremlins could only watch in terror as their certain demise approached them.
Her actions made no sense from a realistic viewpoint. It was commonly known that casters were at a disadvantage in close quarters, and each one of the fiends was armed. Although the weapons were crudely made, they were still dangerous enough to inflict a devastating wound if struck on a vital point.
In fact, all they had to do was surround and overwhelm her with their numbers. It was just that simple.
Yet none of them moved to attack. None of them raised their weapons, looked away, or even attempted to flee.
They stood in place as though they had already accepted their fate.
Flaming Rose simply stopped at a comfortable distance and showed no further desire to approach any further. Perhaps their ugly appearance had disgusted her so much that she just stood there without doing anything.
Even so, the azure blaze in the pristine mask’s eye sockets never dimmed. It only sharpened into a dangerous glint.
Sensing the danger, Nightingale stepped back, widening the distance and turning his gaze away. He didn’t want to be too close when whatever was about to happen finally happened.
And as expected, it did.
Moments later, the "sound" appeared. That so-called sound was made of light. Half-sound, half-light, it began glowing from the eyes of the Gremlins, pulsing louder and brighter, following a strange rhythm.
The experience must have been painful, and that pain grew with every pulse of light and surge of sound. The Gremlins began to whimper like wounded animals. At first, the noise was faint and the light weak, but soon their shoulders hunched and their backs curled, as if trying to flee away from their own bodies.
Their hands folded across their chests like frightened monkeys. Their heads tilted to the side, their twisted faces caught somewhere between fear and pain. Then, all at once, they screamed together as the light and sound from their eyes grew louder. Louder and louder.
Nightingale covered his ears, but it made no difference. The sound bored through his skull, and a sharp, crawling pain ran through his nerves like foil on a tooth.
Suddenly, the Gremlins straightened. Their bodies jerked upright like puppets on strings. The light pouring from their eyes swelled into twin blazing stars, illuminating the dim environment like a watchtower. The sound climbed higher and higher, and up some more.
Finally, their bodies gave out. One by one, they collapsed to the ground with heavy thuds, the light still burning brilliantly, terribly, beautifully, while the flesh and muscle around their eyes split apart.
By the time it ended, the Gremlins were left crying pitifully as their sockets turned to soft, oozing pools of moist jelly.
They had been blinded.
Sea-blue light lingered in the surroundings, though most of it quickly faded away. Nightingale lowered his arm, blinking past the afterimages that swam in his vision. The terrace was quiet now. Steam rose from the blackened tiles, curling through the remnants of mist like thin threads of silk. The air still shimmered faintly, warped by the heat that lingered long after the flames were gone.
Flaming Rose stood at the center of it all, completely still and silent. For a moment, she seemed utterly distant and unreachable like the image of a phantom reflected on water.
Her shoulders rose slightly as if she had just remembered to breathe. Perhaps the caster had regained her clarity and realized how far she’d let herself go. She didn’t move from her spot, only lowered her head for a moment and muttered something inaudible under her breath.
Cautiously, the gunslinger approached and examined her handiwork. The gremlins lay sprawled across the scorched floor, twitching erratically as smoke curled from their moist sockets. Somehow, they were still alive if such a state could even be called living.
Their ruined eyes rolled weakly, uselessly, as if searching for something that no longer existed
He watched them for a moment, and almost felt pity for the lowly creatures. But then he remembered the countless horrors and misfortunes Lesser Fiends had inflicted upon humans and the feeling vanished as quickly as it came.
Murder was the most common. However, the other was even more vile and unforgivable. It was a sensitive topic that most people avoided.
Even the men were not safe from being ruined.
Suddenly, his eyes radiated their own share of killing intent.
’Damn filthy creatures. I see no reason to let them live. Then again, I need to show restraint.’
Rose hadn’t spared their lives out of kindness. If it were up to her, she would have drawn out their suffering before finishing them off.
Unfortunately, they were in foreign territory, and information was a luxury they couldn’t afford to destroy.
That was why she had burned only their eyes, reducing them from threats to helpless, harmless things.
Clearing his throat, Nightingale cast a glance at Flaming Rose and said:
"Look, I won’t ask what that was all about. From a certain standpoint, I can understand. I really do. But losing control like that isn’t going to help either of us. What if your flames drew the attention of something we can’t handle, like a swarm of monsters? What would you do then? How would you take responsibility for that? Did I make a mistake by accepting your request?"
Rose lowered her head shamefully.
"S-Sorry. I’m... sorry. It won’t happen again."
He studied her for a moment, maintaining a stern expression before finally letting out a quiet sigh.
It couldn’t be helped. Her tone was so pitiful that he didn’t have the heart to press her any further. Still, that didn’t mean he was about to let her off easily.
From the very beginning, the two of them hadn’t been friends, nor could they even be called acquaintances, nor did they know each other prior. If not for their brief exchanges over the InterCom forum, they wouldn’t have known of each other’s existence at all.
In truth, their relationship was purely professional, nothing more.
Nightingale lowered his gaze and holstered his pistol.
"Very well. Since you understand your mistakes, I’m not going to hold it against you. Humans are prone to making mistakes, after all. I, myself, am not perfect and have made a few mistakes in the past. Therefore, as far as I’m concerned, nothing happened here."
Rose looked at him, understanding the meaning behind his words, and nodded quietly.
Nightingale turned toward the far end of the terrace where the mist was beginning to gather once more.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"We should move. That noise probably drew everything within a kilometer radius. But..."
He scratched the side of his head and shifted his gaze to the blind Gremlins lying scattered across the tiles.
"...What are we going to do about them?"