Chapter 502: Arc 6, - 118: Better Understanding Part II

Chapter 502: Arc 6, Chapter 118: Better Understanding Part II

"Sir Vogel," Fumeko walked in, with an armoured figure in tow.

Melcer Vogel was tapping on some clicking device that created crisp snapping noises. His face turned as he regarded them, "Ah, Ms Namora, you waste no time. I’m sorry for your loss."

"Thanks. I haven’t exactly been restful to take my time right now," she arched a brow.

"Yes, well, there’s a matter I wish to discuss with you as well, but we will get to it, hello. Scorching Inferno, correct?"

"Uh yeah, I got the bracers," Ben raised his arms, on which the bracers were in their deactivated state.

"Yes, yes, put them on my workbench, I will examine it in a moment. Fumeko. Namora?" his hands waved about.

"Either’s fine."

"Alright; what, happened to Kazuo’s firearm—your father’s pistol, where is it? Is it destroyed? Is it in the hands of the Deuctus Cult, because that would be the most devastating outcome we would need to prepare for, far, far in advance-"

"It’s safe," Fumeko rolled her eyes, and with precious caution, pulled the gun out from her waistband. "It’s just gonna leave a dent in my hip bone." She handed it to him under her arm so that it was hidden from prying eyes.

"Dude, you had your dad’s gun the whole time?" Ben squinted.

"Yeah? What about it?" the brunette side-eyed.

"I dunno man, it feels like a thing you should’ve told people about," he threw his arms up, before he started to unbuckle the weapons.

"So they can take it away, make me give it up or that I have some sort of target on my back? I’m talking to the only guy who’ll let me have it—permanently, with authority," Fumeko looked back at Sir Vogel.

Melcer was looking the pistol over with his face nearly pressed up against it. "It’s... it’s intact?"

"Dad most likely used it against the attack on the company, before he slid it under something where I found it," she crossed her arms. "It goes without saying that I’ll need the cartridges he used too."

The scientist breathed a sigh of relief, "At least Kazuo knew to not let this get into their clutches—nightmarish situation."

Fumeko cleared her throat.

Melcer glanced up, "Hm? Oh. You understand that I cannot simply give this to you. This wasn’t your father’s belongings to just pass down."

The detective narrowed her eyes, "Is that how dad got it?"

"Well-"

"Lady Pinberry’s charged me with the case."

Melcer put his hands out to stop her, "You don’t have to convince me, you have to convince your father’s soul. I know for a fact that your father would not want you to have a Class 7-Type 3 M.I.D. on your person at all times."

’Yeah, and he was wrong about a lot of things on how to raise me.’ "My dad’s gone. The cult’s still running around, and I’m one of the best chances of getting to them before they cause more damage. Besides, I’m already carrying something better," her eyes directed him to the sheath at her side.

"Fair points all around," Sir Vogel made a quick movement to one of his drawers and pulled out a capsule that glowed a bright purple.

Swiftly fetching a glass ampule, he jabbed the open end of it into a small tube on the capsule’s side. Steam burst out like air out of a tyre, whilst the ampule filled up a purple liquid that contained flakes.

He removed the glass, ending the high-pitched whine, before he swirled the container in the air a few times; the liquid evaporated within a second or two, leaving only the flakes behind, and when he shook it, it crumbled into dust.

At which point he jabbed the open end into a rod on his workbench that glowed a bright orange. It hissed as he swirled it around against it, sealing the ampule up before it pressed it against a cold rod right beneath it.

He handed the brunette the ampule, now a complete cartridge to be used in the pistol.

Fumeko stared at the vial in her hand...

Ben had the bracers above the workbench, about to put them down; he stared as well. "...Dude, if it takes you like thirty seconds max to make one, you really should be giving more."

"This is the easy part," he scoffed. "Here you are Fumeko. It’s simple to load; you take out the last one by pushing back the cartridge," he demonstrated on the pistol. "Don’t actually remove it if it still has uses left, the cartridge can’t be resealed while you’re out there.

I would say you have approximately... fourteen shots left in the pistol. The new one should give you thirty more. I trust that that’s more than enough," he explained and put the pistol on his table to quickly give it a checkup.

’If I can’t get Jotou and Kineko back, defeat the new gods and stop the cult from overthrowing Burnetrout in forty-four shots, then another hundred isn’t gonna help me.’ "Thanks. Is the gun okay?"

Sir Vogel twisted it in his grasp, "Everything’s in order. I’m happy this prototype has gotten as much utility as it has. Sixteen years later, and instead of getting renewed or replaced, it found a new owner..."

...

Fumeko stood silent.

Melcer adjusted his glasses, "Things you own, end up outliving you," he muttered. He turned, and handed the pistol over- "Tch. You’ve been carrying it in your," he shook his head in disappointment.

"I didn’t find his holster," she replied.

"I may have a spare from Cheshire’s crossbow," he searched around and got out a deep brown leather holster, which the pistol was much too small for. He muttered under his breath and started fiddling into a set of leatherworker tools to augment it.

"Anytime today man," Ben put his hands on his hips.

"Patience," he cut it to the exact proportions without a measuring tool and pressed a few golden buttons to buckle down the straps. The pistol fit perfectly as he tested it, before he handed it to the detective, "You can alter anything else in your own time—should be simple enough. Do not brandish it in public."

Fumeko examined the much too short length and fidgeted with the buckles, "I’m not even average-sized and this is too small for my waist."

"It goes around the thigh or ankle."

"Oh." ’It is made for Detective Rose.’ "Mind turning," she requested of the two men with a glare.

Melcer was already on the subject of the bracers. Ben awkwardly turned away, and blocked Fumeko from the lab’s view—even though there were multiple levels and the entrance...

"What are these?" Sir Vogel honed in on examining the silver discs. "Come on, any relevant information."

"Uh, they were meant for the cult. Somehow a gang in Dolpool got them, and it’s Vandlevelan?" Ben informed.

He adjusted his glasses, "I haven’t had much of a chance to work with technology from the Vandlevela Regime; I hear they are quite advanced and give Avon a run for their gold."

"Yeah, advanced..." Ben squinted. "Feel like magic’s the only factor, but speaking of which, when I sorta attuned to them, they had like a fire power to them. I could like swing faster, blast better, and barely felt a drain on my magic."

Melcer abruptly put the bracers down and sat upright, "Ah so it’s enchanted. Not my speciality Inferno." He looked past Ben and whistled over to another scientist going about her business. "Enchanted. Can you take a gander?"

The woman with a floating clipboard and pen turned; she gave a tired nod and approached. She wordlessly moved past the armoured figure and floated the bracers up with a swipe of her hand and brought them deeper into the laboratory.

"Gwen will give you a report. Otherwise, the mechanism seems simple to operate. It’s a type of M.I.D. that works only when the person using it has magic of their own. That’s all I can tell you," Melcer explained.

Fumeko rejoined the conversation, with the pistol gone from anyone’s sight.

"Are those all that you wanted to discuss with me? Because there is the subject of your father’s funeral," Sir Vogel turned to the brunette.

"That’s hardly a subject. But no, we’ve got new information. I need to understand how someone could cloak their magic from being detected, and what exactly are you doing to detect it," Fumeko crossed her arms.

"Same question, different words every time," Melcer sighed and looked up. He pointed, "Do you see that device up there."

Fumeko and Ben gazed up to the large mess of cables that draped down like vines on a tower with a beacon atop it. "You mean the radio-tower-looking thing, right?" Ben clarified.

"Exactly. Ironically enough, it functions similarly to one. To put it simple, mana exists in everything. Unlike radio waves that need to be sent and received, mana’s always present.

But, when the mana is used—when it’s been cast as a spell, it has a different signature. We track that signature, by using reactive mana dust; we cause the mana dust here to burst with high activity, thereby creating a signature as well.

By doing so, we make used mana—magic that’s been cast—respond to us, like radio waves. We’re able to send the signature out, and track that signature out there." He smiled and marvelled at it for a moment, "Brilliant, isn’t it? Not my creation, but, whew."

"Dude, that’s pretty fucking awesome," Ben gawked up at it. "Can I use it? Please?"

"No," Melcer’s eyes narrowed. "You need clearance for that. ...Even I ever hardly get to use it."

’Right.’ "But it can only detect magic when someone actively uses it," Fumeko said.

"The downside, yes. We’d run out of mana dust by the month’s end if we kept it going forever."

"What’s the range on the thing?" Ben asked.

"It depends on how much mana-dust you want to burn in one go. The more that is used, the further we can send the signature."

"Cool, cool, cause the intensity doesn’t matter," Ben nodded in understanding. "You guys just need something to ping back by casting a wide net—like sonar. "

Red strings connected before her eyes. ’... ...! Did he just figure it out before me!? ...ugh. Well, if he’s right, that means...!’ Fumeko held a hand to her chin.

Melcer looked back down, "You also asked about..."

"Cloaking," Fumeko replied while thinking.

"Enchantments can easily disrupt the machine," Melcer explained, and then sighed.

"I figured as much. But I think I’ve got my answer thanks to Ben," the detective replied.

Ben glanced down, "Me? I’m just a big nerd for this stuff man."

’You didn’t need to explain that...’ She looked to Sir Vogel, "You said it can detect the signature, but nothing about how intense the signature you get back is. So, can it tell how powerful magic is in a location?"

"Yes-"

"So, the only alternative reason for why the Burntish government hasn’t been able to track down all of the cult, is the fact that that machine detects magic and moves on; if a faint source of magic is covering up a strong source of magic underneath, it bypasses the detection," Fumeko solved.

"That’s a leap... right?" Ben doubted himself.

"She is correct," Melcer affirmed in disappointment. "You have found the fatal flaw in the machine. The detection detects the magic and determines its intensity; it does not directly detect the intensity."

"Ohhhh, got it," Ben looked back up at the machine. "You cast the net out into the sea, but no one’s pulling it back in; you just see how much water’s being splashed and determine how big the fish is.

So if there’s a whole swarm of fish, you don’t notice the whale you also caught. Kinda less impressed now—still cool; but less impressed."

"Older Burntish buildings and houses also have faint simple enchantments that have retained—for insulation, lighting and the like," Sir Vogel’s voice lost its lustre by the second.

"The cult could be hiding out in some old house in Kalmia, and teleport out to anywhere and even if the machine is on, all of you’d be none the wiser," Fumeko rolled her eyes.

’The tunnels underneath the orphanage must work under the same circumstances. The illusion on the doors to make them walls would be faint, but whatever magic underneath would be concealed.

Realistically, if cultists were travelling from one point to another, and with Mrs Aetherton’s account, the true distance the tunnels span over is unknown.

Everything in South End and Belle-Ventrialis would indicate that the Deuctus Cult are proficient with teleportation and opening up gateways; they even know the fatal flaw in the machine and would use any small trace of magic to cover up the teleportation.

Considering the maze systems created by the Briar Prince that Hotaru and the others experienced, paired with the layout of Casten Castle, it’s entirely possible that all the exits and entrances me and Tiffany found were actually teleportation gateways that’d let anyone who’d know how to traverse them to anywhere they wanted to.

That way, the tunnels don’t need to be long; it would just look like a shortcut to anyone investigating it. And the magical experts wouldn’t know unless they had every piece of evidence I have. ...!’

A sudden rush of elation washed over her in the form of goosebumps. The red strings all went taut, and a firm picture was formed right in front of her eyes—a crack in the case. Mulberry shadows wisped around her irises.

’Only thing to left figure out is how to navigate and activate the gateways and to where each leads. Then we can hit the bastards right where they live, or anywhere else they scurry off to.’

"You guys don’t have like, a dedicated magic-person to track down whoever you need?" Ben queried.

"That’s usually when their cloaking enchantments tend to protect them. And even if they didn’t, their minds are protected by one of the leaders’ blood—Ambrose as we know now.

Enchantment magic when used on sentient creatures, it can be resisted because it usually targets the mind. To give them their credit, the cult’s a wilful lot."

’Could the blood be the key?’

"Dude, you okay?" Ben glanced over at the brunette who was stuck in thought. "You’re... smiling. Something’s definitely okay."

Fumeko wiped the unintentional grin off her face, "Shut it Scorchy."

Ben put his hands up defensively and leaned back.

"Regardless, that’s all we came here for," Fumeko turned to Melcer. "Unless you happen to know anything about tunnels underneath the Orchid Borough Orphanage?"

Sir Vogel pondered for a moment, "It rings a bell... but nothing of use to you I believe."

"Then that’s that. Let’s get those bracers and go get your archer friend; they should have him talked down by now hopefully," the brunette stated.

...

"Oh Clyde? Wait! Dude, you knew where Clyde was this entire time!?!?!?"