The gray world of thin and thick, narrow and wide, lines and stripes, light and smoke, had a strange life of its own. Here and there, vague, indistinct images of people and simple terrain appeared and disappeared.
And immediately they disappeared, erased, dissolved into wisps of heavy gray fog or smoke. Walls and clouds moved, retreated, leaving a light haze in the scattered light without a source, or moved into walls, into clubs. Unexpected flashes of light drew shadows on clouds of fog, moving figures that slowly dissipated like the fog itself.
No footsteps or other sounds were heard, as if it were the world of an old silent movie. Eerie in its cruel silence, its gray wall of horizons. Easy to create and even easier to erase, to return to its original state — a blue, faceless, formless mist. His gaze glides through the world around him, lingering no more than a few moments before moving on, searching for hidden signs.
Totally alien to this world, the threads of color, impossible in this grayness of colors, red, blue, and purple, seemed to live their own separate lives, paying no attention to anything. The neon glow of these threads wriggled, trembled, bent, and twisted. At rare moments it seemed to try to split into separate threads like a rope, but they regained their integrity.
In those moments, there was even a crackling sound. The single green line kept splitting, bending, contracting sharply, almost tearing, but regaining its strength. Such a strange life of this line attracted attention, and a translucent hand filled with veins of red and blue threads touched the green line just at the point of compression.....a short figure bounces awkwardly aside from a massive, swift shadow with a taste of green and excitement.
POWERFUL. Here the large shadow bends and peers behind an almost transparent column, the cold taste of old stone, and the small figure throws up a streak of golden light and rushes desperately toward it....
The hand releases the line and the vision is immediately interrupted. After thinking for a few minutes-seconds, the figure moves on, catching the edge of its eye as the green line turns gray-black at one point, but then a silvery-white glow surrounds it, and the line gains strength and glows again.
The figure moves on until he realizes what he is looking for, but a thin transparent film appears in his path. Bringing his fingers up, he touches it tentatively, feeling the barrier sag under his efforts, but holding on confidently.
What he seeks is on the other side of the film. More, more, more! It's not enough! The red and blue light in the figure gathers strength, merging into a single thick blue light. It gathers into strong claws on the arm, easily plowing through the barrier. The figure's glow fades abruptly, but the mage approaches the target and touches the quivering image of an entire swarm of green flame insects...
***
— ...all gathered, we may begin. — Voice and image gain clarity, and the image finally stabilizes, leaving only a light blue smoke.
— Well, the first thing I want to know is the number of casualties. — says a middle-aged Japanese man with light gray in his black hair, narrow, rectangular, thin-rimmed glasses, and a tired face.
— Shark! — A young mage in his twenties stood up from behind a large table, holding a thin folder of papers. — Of the elders, only Miwa Kazuhiko-sama and Nohotoke Chiyo-sama, who were not in the mansion, had survived. The entire top of the Main Bloodline had also perished. The guards, all twenty-four mages who were still standing guard, are dead. The three young mages specializing in barriers from the younger branches were beheaded, thus destroying the three new lines. — The hall was silent.
— How did they manage to deal with so many skilled mages? Did someone help them? — asked a man with a tired face in a tired voice.
— There was no help from outside. — The speaker replied in a calm voice. — First, the security system was damaged, and then the clashes came one after the other: the guardsmen gathered one or two at a time, unorganized, at the scene of the noise. This allowed the assassin to sort himself out without much difficulty, as he used ambushes, taking cover in the shadows and then attacking suddenly. Witnesses were always knocked unconscious.
There was silence again, but not for long. The man who took the report removed his glasses and massaged his eyes. His tired face was calm and serious. The others began to discuss what they had heard in low voices.
— What about the artifact weapons the guards and elders had? — asked an older man with a scar across the left side of his face, and the people fell silent, the question obviously of interest to the others.
— The bodies of the dead have been thoroughly examined, and everything of more or less value is gone. Witnesses confirm the story of looting.
— Oh gods! — whispered a voice in the silence. — The staffs of thunder and wind! The whips of the seventy sins!
The men fell silent again and looked at each other in astonishment. Their tense faces betrayed the intense fear and anxiety of what they had heard.
— Worst of all, the Severing and the Punishing had returned to their masters. — The tired voice of the new clan leader rang out again. — I don't have to tell you what these katanas can do. — The people listened in silence. — We have already suffered heavy losses that have weakened us greatly for the upcoming plans. It is my decision not to pursue the fugitives and to return the vigilantes.
— How can we just let them go?! They must be punished for their treachery and betrayal! — A man in his forties wearing a combat uniform spoke with a spiritualized face, an aura of confidence surrounding his words.
— I didn't say there would be no revenge. — the head replied in a calm voice. — But that can be dealt with later. The stakes are much higher now, and if our forces continue to dwindle, the clan's prestige in the coming battles will be greatly diminished, and that cannot be allowed. It is our duty to our fallen relatives to finish what we started with a victory! — The new leader raised his voice. — Only victory will be a worthy apology for our inability to protect our heads! Only then will we wash away the stain of shame! — Everyone in the hall murmured, rose from their seats, and shouted in agreement with the leader's words. — Therefore, we must not be distracted from our historic mission! We must write our clan's name in the Great Book! And the task ahead of us will surely elevate the Miyazaki clan to the level of a ruling dynasty!
The meeting then turned into a raucous bazaar filled with outbursts of pathos and pretentious praise.
***
At first, I had thought of destroying the remaining fireflies in the mansion as soon as I learned of the decision regarding my mother and I and the future plans of the Miyazaki clan.
Now I wondered what I should do next. I wasn't asked for answers... directly. But my mother's gaze and the almost constant presence of the priestess of Amaterasu around us hinted at them. For two days I remained silent, quietly poring over the Korean treatise on the movement of spirits, though it wasn't easy. It was good that I had learned Korean, Chinese, and several other languages, including Latin.
This is not surprising, since magic and its derivatives offer their users amazing possibilities. Whole blossoms of spells and charms for concentration, bunches of recipes for magical compositions to strengthen memory and attention.
You can talk about meditation and trance techniques as much as you like. So, in the treatise I found interesting facts about contracts with spiritual entities, including the author's attention to not obvious loopholes. I decided to use them.
My problem was that, far from me, my puppets would not last long, even though they fed themselves from the worldly background. As I said, at first I wanted to destroy them, but after what I had heard, such trump "bugs" can make life and survival itself much easier.
The way out of the dilemma was simple: I would perform a ritual, albeit a brief one, in cooperation with the spirits in the firefly crystals. The dolls would be hidden and the spirits would be released from them, but when I needed them, I would summon them, pay with magic, and the spirits would return to the dolls.
It turned out to be easy and fast, I managed to do it in an hour, but I had to give the spirits nicknames — it strengthens the connection between the mage and the spirit.
A day later, instead of charging, I found myself in the clutching hands of my mother, who led me to a hidden portal platform, from which we were transported together with the Mistress....