Chapter 11

Author's note: I've noticed everyone pointing out a serious problem—the downside of first-person narration is that it's hard for everyone to remember "my" name!!! Let's review this important point: our adorable protagonist is Ciprins Field. His white moonlight, Mephistopheles (little Mel), calls him Xipei, and his mommy (yours truly) likes to call him Xixi. You can call him whatever you like!

Chapter 11

The capital's entire prison was divided among several towering skyscrapers. It was a new-century architectural complex, so the buildings were tall enough to nearly poke through the sky, and their glass exteriors were nothing but light pollution. But it was nighttime now. Skybridges connected the buildings, hover police cars flew around outside, and the prison's military helicopters were rattling away as they strafed something.

Fortunately, the prison was in a remote spot on the outskirts, and the city was under martial law for a summit. Otherwise, the reporters' spit could have flooded the place.

We soon left the sparsely populated mage cellblock. Once we entered the skybridge, the alarms grew clearer, and red spotlights flashed along both sides of the corridor. Even when everything was safe, the blaring and flashing lights were enough to drive someone into a panic, let alone during a real emergency.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Intruders spotted!"

That was what we heard people shouting. It looked like this really was a prison break. Most likely, some fiend with great potential (and a lot of money) was locked up here, and his subordinates had finally begun a rescue after planning it for a long time.

Then we saw wounded people retreating. Mel and I immediately pressed ourselves against the wall and waited for them to pass.

A few of the more seriously injured lay groaning on floating stretchers. As they passed us, Mel and I quickly used magic to examine one person's injuries. They weren't magic wounds, nor did they look like blade wounds.

"I'm afraid those were caused by firearms," I said. "There's a little residual magic fluctuation. They're probably exchanging fire with magitech weapons."

Mel frowned. "Then the Federation's prison guards ought to write a self-criticism."

"Yeah, I don't think the Federation lags behind in advanced weaponry." I saw Mel put on an affirming expression, since some of those advanced weapons were his own masterpieces. I nodded. "But the alarm's been going for so long and they still haven't dealt with it. Have the prison guards not been training lately?"

"Xipei, watch out up ahead!" Mel warned me.

The sound of gunfire came from the corridor ahead. The cellblocks formed a maze, and the corridors looked remarkably alike. The cells in this area weren't nearly as empty. The prisoners were locked in their own rooms; some peered out worriedly, while others gloated or even cheered the jailbreakers on. They were so annoying that I couldn't resist turning a few foul-mouthed fellows into rabbits. Then screams sharper than the alarms began to ring out from the cells. I glanced to the side... Mm, Mel had turned his into cats. Cats were cute too. I liked them.

The electrical barriers on every cell had been activated. Every so often, a guard would be sent flying into one, setting off a shower of sparks.

We quickly reached the battle zone. A small squad of prison guards lay sprawled across the corridor ahead. Their injuries varied in severity, but none seemed life-threatening. Then we saw someone around the corner trying to use a strange device to read a guard's fingerprints. I guessed that was what he was doing, because opening most high-security cells required security verification from senior guards. Judging by his clothes, the unconscious guard was probably the officer in charge of this area.

Mel said nothing and immediately flung a bolt of lightning at him. The dark figure twitched but wasn't paralyzed. Instead, he took off running, rapidly stepping along the wall and leaping away in a thoroughly unscientific manner.

"Magic resistance?" Mel exclaimed. "Only someone who knows magic can have magic resistance. A mage who runs that fast?"

"No way. After him!" As I spoke, I raised a shield, and Mel enveloped us in an acceleration spell. Then we quickly flew after him. Yes, mages normally couldn't run fast, but who said mages had to run properly on two legs? We could fly!

The figure was incredibly agile, and he really was running on his own two legs. That made it impossible for us to believe he was a mage. Even battle mages, whom some orthodox mages considered terribly unprofessional, knew basic swordsmanship at most. What kind of mage could move like a special forces soldier?

Mel and I teleported several times, closing the distance between us and him. The figure came into clear view now—and he really wasn't a mage.

I frowned at the man's bizarre appearance, but Mel evidently knew what he was. He cried out in surprise, "An enhanced cyborg?"

Although the man couldn't see us coming after him, a mage's invisibility only concealed us from sight. He could still tell we were approaching through his hearing and other senses, especially after Mel had shouted. So he immediately turned around, a magitech machine gun in one hand. The wrist of his other arm folded back, and a blade extended with a click. Its edge gleamed coldly, with arcs of electricity flickering along it from time to time.

Whoa! A transforming monster! I was sure that blade was attached to his arm!

With a bang, the freak leaped into the air and brought his blade down, striking my Air Shield head-on. Mel followed up immediately. He had already completed Shadow Dance, and all three of our shadows lunged at the freak at once. He was visibly startled-Mel's spell was extremely well known, so he might simply have been surprised to encounter Mel here.

He tried shooting at the shadows, but the bullets passed through them as though he were shooting at air. For the moment, though, the shadows couldn't finish him off as easily as they had killed the orcs. The freak was exceptionally nimble, even running along the walls and ceiling in a highly unscientific manner, dodging the shadows' attacks several times.

While he was tangled up with the shadows, I suddenly made my move. A silently cast Mental Piercing shot toward him, without sound or form—a spell cast with pure mental power to attack the target's will. Mm... strictly speaking, it was a forbidden spell. If I were caught, it wouldn't just be a public-order offense; I'd definitely end up on the list of dark mages.

But no one was going to report me, so what was there to fear?

...Besides, I thought the media was a bit jumpy, seeing Black Magic in everything. Mental Piercing was actually an orthodox mental spell, not Black Magic!

The freak was caught off guard by the attack, and his movements instantly grew sluggish. Mel's shadow swiftly pounced, snapping his neck in one clean, rapid motion.

"What is this guy?!" I caught my breath and couldn't help asking as I studied the corpse.

"You've never seen one? Oh, right, the Federation bans these things," Mel said. He was still on guard. I could sense an Absolute Protection spell held beneath his tongue, ready to cast at any moment.

The corpse was very... strange. He wore a lightweight exoskeleton, all in black. The Federation's infantry regiments wore exoskeletons too, so that wasn't what surprised me. What surprised me was that all his limbs seemed to be mechanical prosthetics. I could see bearings in his knees and exposed power lines on his forearms, all connected to the exoskeleton. And his face—a small patch of skin on his face exposed metal underneath.

"A cyborg." Mel's brows were tightly knitted. He had the shadows swiftly disassemble the corpse's limbs, then said, "A human whose body has been partially converted into machinery. If he's linked to a remote terminal, the mastermind behind them can remotely control the mechanical parts and keep fighting after his human parts die."

"A cyborg?" I was stunned. Thanks to Moli, I knew what that was! That was why I was so shocked, and the reason I hadn't recognized him at first glance was also very simple. "It's illegal to have yourself converted into a cyborg in the Federation!"

"That's right." Mel nodded. "In our Federation, only outstanding soldiers injured in combat can undergo this kind of surgery to restore their mobility, and only after a rigorous review. Civilians aren't allowed to have their limbs converted into machinery, except through a special application for necessary medical treatment."

He continued examining the man and said, "More than fifty percent of his body is mechanical. I'm guessing he's with a private military company. Some countries allow private military companies to have legal cyborgs."

"...The kind that takes money to fight for people?"

"Yeah, the modern organizational structure for mercenaries," Mel said. "Compared with the legendary age, when mercenaries relied on an outstanding leader to command them and the mercenary guild assigned their jobs, a lot of mercenaries nowadays prefer this kind of corporate organization. Uh... they feel secure having an employment contract and the five social insurances and housing fund, and they can tell people they work for a major company."