Siblings Reincarnate as Enemies

Chapter 102 — In which things burn down (5)

A few minutes before the coming-of-age ceremony started.

In the separate building, now reeking of the smell of burned meat and melted wax, Sangria tightly covered windows, so no sunlight entered and then carefully approached Crimo, who sat in the corner, leaning against the wall.

In this position, still covered by Sangria’s outer robe, he looked uncharacteristically vulnerable.

The only time Sangria saw Crimo like this was after the late Archmage Belleder’s death and when Vern’s health deteriorated to the point he could die at any moment.

“My Lord…”

He quietly called out.

Crimo, who kept his eyes closed, took a deep breath and then asked:

“Scarlen’s servants?”

“… I’ll go check.”

Sangria was also concerned what happened to the people, who supposed to guard this place, but he was much more concerned about the person, who just suffered an assassination attempt.

But he didn’t dare to argue and obediently carried out unspoken order.

He crossed the room, passed through the assailant, who dropped to the ground, and looked half-melted for some reason, and peeked through the door.

There was no one in the corridor.

Sangria casted a detection spell, but beside him and Crimo, no sings of life were found in 50 meters radius.

There was no one alive in the building.

Sangria returned to Crimo’s side.

“I don’t detect any life beside us, and I see no traces of them in the corridor.”

Their status, dead or alive, was completely unknown.

Crimo slightly opened his bloodshot eyes, as he thoughtfully looked towards the door.

After a few seconds of consideration, he said:

“In few minutes, we will use secret corridor and leave this building.”

It was dangerous to move around or stay in the building that could be laid with traps.

Currently, most of Crimo’s energy was spent on the defenses systems in the ceremony hall, so he didn’t have a way to properly protect himself, especially not with his state right now.

And Sangria couldn’t leave him alone and go looking for missing guards.

Agreeing with this assessment, Sangria nodded.

Crimo closed his eyes again, but then snapped them open, as he picked up a communication stone.

From a delicate and beautiful design Sangria recognized it as a stone connected to Scarlen.

After a few seconds of communication, Crimo suddenly asked:

“What about Vern?”

Sangria quickly checked with his surveillance spell and informed:

“He is fine. The servants are fixing his hair. It seems that the ceremony will start soon.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

Crimo smiled in relief and then finally returned to gathering his strength.

After a minute of silence, he abruptly opened his mouth again.

“Does Master Sangria know that man?”

“Excuse me?”

“The strange comet that came and went, taking that thing with him.”

“Ah…”

Sangria recalled the visitor whose only eyes were visible.

Still, just a memory of those eyes was able to make his brain to come to a grueling halt.

Sangria walked up to the window, even though it was completely cover up, feeling his face strangely burning, while he very slowly answered.

“No… No, I don’t think so.”

“… I see. I thought you knew each other, because how easily Master Sangria followed that person’s instructions.”

It appeared that Crimo was still aware what was going around him, even in this situation.

‘As expected of an Archmage.’

While admiring, Sangria analyzed the events and was suddenly struck by one doubt.

“But my Lord, why that light was so effective against you?”

Crimo’s expression also turned very strange.

“I have no idea either.”

*-*-*

Vern carefully took off his boots and stepped into water.

Scarlen, who acted as his assistant during the ceremony, lit up a small torch and handed it to him.

Feeling the coarse stick in his hand, Vern thought about the ceremony itself.

He heard that it date back to his times as Vermillian, but he couldn’t quite recall anything like that.

Perhaps there was such tradition among thousands of traditions, which survived those dark times passed on the other generations by word of mouth.

He couldn’t be sure, he never paid attention to such things.

It would be better to ask Am, who specialized in those things.

‘But it’s funny…’

Because of their circumstances when growing up Vermillian never had a coming-of-age ceremony.

Times were tough, and whether he was a child or an adult didn’t frankly matter.

He managed to held coming-of-age ceremonies for his siblings, though they were small and very simple celebrations.

But he didn’t care to held one for himself.

‘Saf was pretty upset about it, when she found out.’

After that she always kept a close eye on his birthday dates to not miss it.

But a chance to hold a coming-of-age ceremony was gone.

‘Now you should be happy.’

Even though he could feel her glaring daggers at the back of his head, he could tell she was happy.

The small daggers seemed to encouraging him to move the torch.

Vern did exactly as they told him.

He moved the flame towards one of the lower branches, lighting it up.

The flame, enchanted by bit of Scarlen’s magic put on the torch, caught on quickly.

It spread between leaves like blooming flowers.

Behind his back, Vern sensed slight fluctuations of mana.

Someone among fearless guild members seemed to try to interfere with the fire, but was easily fended off by Scarlen.

Even if Scarlen didn’t fend it off, it would be stopped by Crimo’s defense circles, which returned to normal.

Still, Vern wasn’t going to just stand here and wait for this tree to slowly burn down.

There were only a few things Vern wished could burn down slower.

This tree wasn’t one of them.

Ceremonial lighting up finished, Vern didn’t have a reason to wait.

He activated the magic circle he prepared beforehand.

Hidden on the ceiling above the tree, a complicated circle lit up, like an enormous beast opening a red eye.

And flames poured down.

There were so many of them, they rather seemed like a flock of birds, than a rain.

Those who knew some things about magic opened their mouths wide.

‘Fire Rain’.

That was the name of the spell, one of the hardest spells to actually carry out.

The problem laid in the fact that though it looked like a fire type spell, it was actually an air spell.

There was only a small fire component used to heat up gases in the air, until they start to burn.

The main component was controlling how those gases moved.

But if it controlled gases, it couldn’t control other things which caught fire because of the spell, like a tree for example.

So a mage could easily find themselves surrounded by an armageddon they couldn’t control.

The method to deal with was to suffocate any other flames, but one needed enormous concentration and precision to do that.

And yet Vern was doing exactly that with thousand of rain drops, burning down the tree at a terrifying speed.

In less than two minutes, an enormous tree turned to ashes.

The water in the fountain boiled black, but Vern was unconcerned.

He has naturally a high heat tolerance, and casted the defense spells on his legs beforehand.

If anything, the current heat was pleasant.

After making sure, the last speck of ash fell into fountain, Vern turned around.

He bowed to the dumbstruck audience.

Clap clap!

His younger sister was the first to start clapping.

*-*-*

Amara, who returned to the Universe’s temple, sat down behind an empty table in a solitary cell where rites of secrets were held.

He stared into air for a long time and then suddenly chuckled.

“You can keep a secret, right?”

He asked the gods for whom he was preforming rituals today, as he stood up and took out a bottle of ritualistic wine.

He heard the gods chuckle, understanding his intentions.

“My dearest siblings always told me I should refrain from drinking as much as possible… but what can I do? Today is a happy occasion.”

He recalled the tug on his heart as he met gazes with two people for that one second.

He recalled another tug when he met with a person, he thought was completely lost to this world, both in body and soul.

He recalled that his oldest brother finally had his coming-of-age ceremony and that his older sister, who always secretly complained to him, that they weren’t able to held it for him, was watching it, finally achieving her wish.

He poured himself a glass.

“Cheers, for all my fools, who never listen to me, are back.”

He raised it.

“May they never turn into ash ever again.”

He drank the sour wine to the last drop.

*~*~*