Machina Arcanis: Two Worlds Collided-Chapter 265. Rumbling Plan

265. Rumbling Plan

Fulfilling Willhelm’s order, two maidens in dark brown aprons brought out the food.

It was a feast: cheese boards, fresh fruits, potato soup, scrambled eggs, herb-roasted chicken, creamy shroom pasta, and loaves of rustic, crumpet-like bread. The mouth-watering aroma became hard to ignore; the dishes brimmed over the long wooden tables, though only warm milk and juices were served as beverages.

The party sat on overturned crates fashioned into stools. A large fireplace dominated the venue, half-partitioned to serve as a pizza oven. The place smelled of burning firewood and pleasant herbs. Cosy.

The inn was quiet at this hour, according to the lovely innkeeper, Wilma, who happened to be the Magistrate’s wife. It offered them privacy for an hour or so until the local men would arrive to play dice games. Folk music would also play on the small stage in the corner as well.

Zetius took roughly a quarter of an hour to explain the situation. The others listened attentively as they ate.

They were quiet at first, racking their brains for the next way forward.

“Thanks, Zetius, for the debriefing.” Willhelm eventually opened his eyes. “I wagered we wouldn’t just walk into the man himself so effortlessly. I’m fully convinced the man must hide himself under some sort of illusion arcane.”

“That’s the same method he utilised with Suingi’s persona, I presume.” Zetius drifted to an empty seat next to Aurelia and Cubie. In other words, if any of them here were Ignius in disguise, he would know.

Zetius scanned his comrades-in-arms. Aurelia’s gaze gravitated toward him, gleaming in her doe eyes. Definitely not Ignius. Astrid wolfed down a chicken leg, pulling the bare bone from her mouth. Absolutely not. Friederich sat like a stone, a cup placed neatly on his flat palm while his dominant hand cradled it to his lips. Maybe? No, he had known Friederich since forever and far too well; the probability was near zero.

“Well, something like that!” Willhelm’s voice brought Zetius back to the now. The elf rubbed his brow with a thumb, thoughtful.

“Here! I reserved some for you,” Aurelia said, serving a plate full of assorted dishes.

He nodded appreciatively before taking a bite. The food was somewhat bland — nothing to write home about — but still better than nothing.

Having swallowed the food, Astrid raised a hand. “I mean, this isn’t just a mask illusion; it’s much more advanced. You can change the reality of your surroundings?”

“Is there an illusion arcane like that?” Aurelia gasped, turning abruptly to seek answers from the eldest, wisest member of the party.

Willhelm chortled. “Of course. Though it isn’t a common arcane in our region, nor in Solis Aeternum. It is found in Longyuan, where the arcanists of Cancer originate.” He pulled one of his legs up, tucking it under his knee where his hand rested.

“Longyuan? I know, I know!” Cubie blurted, lifting her hand excitedly. “That’s Céleste Polaris’s origin, right?” Her body twisted in delight.

“Umm, who?” Astrid’s jaw hung loose — not annoyed, just confused.

“She’s the singer, actress, orchestra vocalist, and superstar!” Cubie chirped, keeping her eyes closed in a thrill. “She held the concert at the Griffin Inn, don’t you remember?”

“She wasn’t there,” Friederich chimed in, slightly uncomfortable.

“Right.” Astrid blinked, still oblivious. She turned sharply to Willhelm. “So, you said the glamour is fake?”

“Isn’t that how it’s always been with the entertainment industry?” Willhelm threw his head back and laughed boisterously. Longyuan was one of the most state-of-the-art nations, a place of sprawling skyscrapers and advanced technology where the entertainment industry thrived.

Zetius and Aurelia exchanged a helpless smile. They had heard that superstar's name a few times already.

Friederich finished dabbing his lips. “That makes sense. The ability to change appearance and the surroundings as they please. In a sense, it’s a reality-bending arcane,” he concluded, his voice impassive.

“So this Céleste lass could be an old hag in disguise the whole time?” Astrid raised one eyebrow.

“What did you just say?” Cubie snapped a hard look at her. Madly offended. The insult seemed to strike home.

“What?” Astrid chuckled and waved it off, dismissing the girl.

“Tasteless and rude—” Cubie bolted up, ready to scream, but Zetius pulled her back down.

“Come on, Cubie. She doesn’t mean it. Céleste is the most gorgeous lady to grace this earth. Technically speaking, she might have been an Aphrodite incarnation, who knows?” Zetius persuaded, his words dripping with sugar.

Cubie puffed air out of her lungs, shoving both hands under her armpits. Her anger was still palpable but appeared more controllable.

While his magic words seemed to do the trick on Cubie, he felt the heat of a glare from Aurelia and Astrid instead.

“Did I say something?” he murmured, seeking enlightenment from his friend.

Friederich could only exhale, shaking his face, thinking of how his wise friend could be so dense on the matter.

“Maybe it is a reality-bending arcane,” Willhelm teased with a grin. “But we’ll never know. We rarely meet Cancer arcanists outside of Longyuan anyway.” He shrugged.

After a few minutes of awkward dining, Willhelm reeled everyone's focus back to the task at hand.

“Now, now. We might actually have to take a close landing and inspect the coordinates closely.”

Zetius finished his meal and pushed the dish away.

“Here!“ Aurelia handed him a mug of grape juice.

“Ah, thanks.” He inclined his head, taking a sip. The juice was refreshing, though the real sweetness came from Aurelia’s lingering smile. He wiped his lips with a napkin before resuming. “That’s something we can do. It can be a bit cold up there. I hope everyone brought their travel arc garments?”

They all nodded along.

“And what if we can’t find anything?” Astrid poked, puckering her lips.

“There’s a way to shatter the illusion.” Willhelm pasted on a smug smile. “We might have to shake the mountain a little.”

“Are you going to melt the snow?” Aurelia asked the obvious, her voice high-pitched and incredulous.

“Well… If it comes to that…” Willhelm locked eyes with his team, one by one.

His eyes grew intense; the playfulness vanished. “We need to flush Ignius out. Then we’ll have to destroy him with haste, and ultimately without any remorse.”

His words were so unlike the charismatic elf, sucking the air out of the room.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

You must destroy your evil with haste. And ultimately, without any remorse.

Zetius recalled his master's words. From the look on every Aries disciple's face, they all noticed the stark similitude. It was too close to Ignius’s teaching. Despite reaching the same conclusion, none dared to comment on it.

“I mean… No hesitation, completely discreet.” Willhelm’s voice softened, waving his palms in the air. “We are dealing with the master of Warmongers here, right?”

Friederich and Astrid nodded along solemnly, even Cubie’s playfulness replaced by a stiff face. The thick air clouded the room.

Leaning forward, his fingers splaying on the top of the table, Willhelm glanced around cautiously before adding, “Direct confrontation is Ignius’s game. We must overwhelm him, surround him on all sides, and take turns delivering blow after blow…”

Conviction laced his tone.

“That sounds simple enough,” Zetius hummed.

“In theory, anyway.” Willhelm straightened himself, picking up his spoon. He realised he was barely halfway through.

In the spur of the moment, time seemed to crystallise for him. His fingers went numb, sending the wooden cutlery clattering to the table. The dishes of food seemed to merge in and out, causing blurry images.

Dizzy, Willhelm blinked. The voices and faces — he couldn’t read them.

Damnation…

The cold, frigid voice called out. Too many voices at once.

Your soul is damnation.

Startled, his body went into flight mode, his legs moving on their own accord. He shook his head in an attempt to dismiss the throbbing headache. He blinked, and the image became a flash.

“Air… I need some fresh air!”

There was no voice coming out, or he couldn’t hear his own. He felt a hand and snapped it away with his arm, stumbling through the tables. He crashed into another, knocking plates and everything on them to the floor.

Concede to us. Concede to the lord of the underworld.

The voice was the loudest echo, one that deafened his surroundings. The stench of a rotting carcass filled his lungs, becoming too much to bear.

Exasperated and in despair, Willhelm surged through the access way and collapsed outside. He saw that both his hands mustered the remaining energy to push against the dirt. A vein bulged on his forehead, his face drained of all colour, sweat beads dripping from his nose to cast wet dots on the ground.

I… I thought I was cured.

The symptoms had subsided for months. No — he gulped at the cold realisation — it had just lain dormant all this time. It never left.

DAMNATION… the demonic voice faded.

“Lunarius! Are you alright?” Zetius’s words were like a rope to salvation, it reeled him back to reality. He stood at the doorway with the rest of the party behind him. They all wore the same concerned expression.

The stomach rumbling, Willhelm retched and emptied out everything. The passing villagers spared him looks of disgust and bemusement. He gasped, wiping the smudge off his lips.

“I’m fine—” Willhelm felt the shivers run up his hands and knees, “What?!”

The ground vibrated with a malicious crescendo.

Another episode? Willhelm braced, gritting his teeth.

A woman’s scream and some distant gasp indicated otherwise. That was not in his head. The world was shaking; the earth was indeed quaking.

“Holy Gaia, what’s going on?!” someone shouted from inside the inn.

Grasping the air for support, Zetius braced against the woodframe, his other hand clasping Aurelia’s waist to steady her. His eyes searched for the source. Willhelm’s abrupt episode became the least of their worries.

Something foul was at play. Something D’arcane.

“Earthquake?” Cubie floated to Zetius’s side.

The ground continued to rumble. Zetius steeled himself and continued his search on the distant mountain. Even in the distance, it was titanic.

Is the mountain also quaking? It’s hard to tell.

A cacophony of urgent noises echoed from everywhere. His squinting eyes traced the white dune under the dotted sky until he spotted it: a hazy cloud filtering the moonlight.

Clearer now. An obsidian-like tower jutted out of the smoke screen. His gut sank and twisted at the sight.

“There!” Zetius pointed out, raising his voice.

Astrid helped Willhelm up to his feet. She followed Zetius’s finger, her eyes bulging at the ever-growing spear. It looked just the size of her index finger from here — it felt small. But she knew from its height, equating to half of the adjacent summit, that it must have been a hundred metres tall at least.

“Can you walk?” Astrid asked softly, directing the question to Willhelm.

“I’m fine…” The elf nodded, straightening himself slowly. His face remained pale.

“Cartier’s right. That must be Ignius’s doing!” Zetius growled, annoyed at how he failed to detect it prior. Nothing could be done now.

“What should we do?” Aurelia questioned in a mumble.

“We’ll have to go there and find out,” Friederich replied, stating the obvious, his tone calm.

“Zetius…” Cubie drifted upward, hovering above him while he still observed the dazed people. “Isn’t the cloud looking like it’s moving—toward us?” Her voice faltered at the last part.

That prompted him to snap his head to study the mountain again. His eyes widened. “Hades—you’re right!” he hissed. Panic compelled his urgent steps.

“Come on, everyone, let’s evacuate the people first!” Zetius barked.

“Where are you going?” Aurelia asked, her trembling fingers grasping his fabric.

“I’ll go get the Magistrate!” his hurried voice replied.

“Zetius! We, I mean they, can’t outrun this avalanche. We should focus on that tower!” Friederich argued. The logic was sound. The people of Valsorda were likely already done for.

“Without us, they can’t!” Zetius argued back.

Friederich’s eyes twitched.

“This avalanche will take time until it reaches us,” Cubie added, having just levitated down from overhead. “Maybe half an hour minimum.”

“See? It’s worth a try!” Zetius locked eyes with the Prime Guardian, his intense red irises staring deep. “The ritual will likely take time to conjure, too.” He was betting on the fact that the spell wouldn’t take full effect right away.

“Let’s do what he says,” Astrid chimed in, placing a hand on Zetius's shoulder. He smiled appreciatively.

“I’m with you, too! We’ll keep a close look at whatever that is!” Aurelia agreed, referring to the tower. She knew that in the face of disaster, Zetius had learnt to manage the chaos; she’d seen it on multiple occasions. For that, she trusted his judgement.

“Alright!” Friederich eventually agreed, gaining faith.

Hurriedly, Astrid pulled his arm. “Friederich, with me. We’ll go sound the alarm. Get the people to the higher ground down the south.”

Friederich hesitated for a second, looking at her hand clenching his arm, before he nodded.

“Keep your arc comm open!” Willhelm added, shuffling to the centre. “We’ll meet at the rendezvous point! Princess, with me!”

He waved for Aurelia to come with him, and she did almost instantly. He appeared more or less recovered.

“30 minutes!” Willhelm repeated, loud and clear.

Everyone heard that. “Got it!”

Zetius broke into a sprint across the town square, passing the well tower to the Magistrate's building. “Avalanche! Move to the south now!” he shouted at the dazed ladies who clung to the rumbling ground. Their widened eyes were a sign that this impending disaster was new to them.

“Start moving! Damn it!” Zetius yanked their arms up. He quickly scanned their bodies for signs of injury. None.

In his peripheral vision, Cubie did the same, relaying the messages.

“Go!” He clapped their shoulders.

“Zetius! What’s going on?” The Magistrate’s voice was alarmed. The Wildren emerged from the dark, his face pale. More bemused than panicked.

“The mountain of the Alps is erupting!” Zetius shouted. “The avalanche is heading this way, and fast!” He emphasised the word.

“What?” Marty blinked rapidly, tilting his head to look at the distance. “Oh, Gaia…” His voice was lost.

“We have time! Let’s evac the people now!” Zetius assured. Each word was spoken clearly and loudly.

The Magistrate wobbled his head, his lips opening and closing, failing to form words.

Zetius continued, “I’ve already ordered my friend to sound the bell. Is there anything I need to do?”

“No… our home…” He murmured, undoubtedly in a state of shock.

“Magistrate, please!” Zetius urged. “Your people need you!”

Marty found the answers on the ground as his gaze swiftly danced around. “Yes, yes! We have to move further away from the direction of the cascade. South-east from here is the flower field, golden Eranthis, behind the ridge line. It should not be in the path of the cascade.”

“We can use it for a muster point!” Cubie interjected, and the Magistrate wobbled a frantic nod.

“Good! Let’s move now! I’ll relay it to the arcanists.” Zetius nodded quickly, his legs already walking away.

“Wait! I can help!” Marty shouted.

Zetius shook his head, eyes locked. “Save yourself, go!” He spun to leave.

“Zetius!” Marty interrupted. “Thank you, and may Tyche bless your bravest souls!”

No more words were needed. Zetius nodded solemnly before resuming his feverish jog.

“Cubie!” He called the blue girl who zipped beside him. She looked at him, awaiting his command.

“I need the Celer!” he issued firmly.