Magician in Type-Moon

Page 643

He drew out his words, then abruptly changed the subject, a sly glint in his smile, "...However, I do have a different idea."

"What other 'ideas' could you possibly have?" Karen's icy voice was like a poisoned holy nail, and beneath the shadow of her hood, her molten gold eyes shone with undisguised contempt.

She now feels an instinctive aversion to any suggestion from Qingxuan that deviates from the predetermined path.

Qingxuan seemed completely oblivious to the cold gaze, instead meeting Karen's eyes with an even bigger, almost provocative smile.

“I think…” he drawled, as if announcing a groundbreaking proposal, “…how about…”

He paused deliberately, savoring the tense, distrustful silence, "...Just let's be straightforward and 'hand me over' to that guy named Matou!"

The air seemed to freeze for a moment. Even the sound of the wind among the ruins seemed to stop.

Qingxuan patted his chest, making a dull thud, his tone carrying an almost arrogant confidence: "Don't worry, I'm quite confident in my ability to 'protect myself'."

——!

Shirou's brows furrowed instantly, like deep furrows forged from steel.

His sharp gaze pierced Qingxuan's indifferent face like a probe, his voice deepening, carrying an undeniable warning:

"Are you sure?" He spoke each syllable as if squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a deep understanding of Chi Na's inhuman methods.

"...Based on my understanding of Brother Chi, the idea of ​​'escaping' from him..." He deliberately emphasized these two words, as if to stress the absurdity of it.

"...It's not a simple matter. It's about fighting against precise calculations and absolute control."

"never mind."

Qingxuan's smile remained unchanged. Instead, a glimmer of pure, elusive curiosity suddenly shone in the depths of his carefree eyes, like phosphorescence flickering in the darkness.

He chuckled softly, his voice carrying an almost childlike innocence and persistence, yet also containing a certain unfathomable desire for exploration.

“…At the very least,” his gaze seemed to pierce through the two people in front of him, directed towards the unknown realm that might be controlled by Matou Ike.

"...I also need to figure out why that guy who treats demons like 'trouble' would go to such lengths to get me, right?"

He tilted his head, and his smile became meaningful.

“After all…” his voice lowered, carrying a strange, almost self-deprecating honesty, “…I am quite curious about myself as a person.”

"Is that so? That is indeed a very good suggestion." Shirou pondered for a moment before continuing:

"However, I need to discuss this plan with my superiors, considering your position..."

Chapter 668 Twin Towers (4k)

The journey from London on the West Coast Line takes about three and a half hours. After a brief stop at Oxenholm station, the train continues northwest.

The hustle and bustle of the city and the outlines of industry outside the window gradually fade away, replaced by an increasingly open sky and rolling green hills.

Soon, the train slowly pulled into a small station called Windermere.

Lake District.

One of the few truly deserving, well-known resorts in Britain, a beautiful land favored by the Creator.

If this is the birthplace of Peter Rabbit, it would probably help more people understand the fairytale atmosphere of this land.

The woman named Beatrice Potter transformed her lifelong love of the landscape gently embraced by rolling mountains and clear lakes, and the agile rabbits that roamed the lush pastures, into picture books that warm the world and continue to be read by children all over the world.

The air instantly changed. It became moist and crisp, carrying the unique coolness of grass, trees, and lake water, completely washing away the lingering stuffiness in the train carriage.

Matou Ike carried a simple suitcase and stepped steadily onto the platform.

Arcueid beside him, like a small animal newly arrived in unfamiliar territory, curiously turned her red eyes, taking in the lush mountains and the shimmering lake in the distance without any attempt to hide her gaze.

"Is this where that 'demon' is hiding?"

The word "demon" is uttered by Arcueid so naturally and clearly, like a cold, forbidden incantation.

"Not really."

Matou Ike's voice rang out steadily, cutting off the tense atmosphere like a rock.

He turned his head slightly, his gaze calmly sweeping over Arcueid beside him, his eyes carrying an indescribable, almost soothing quality, yet utterly devoid of warmth.

He did not directly deny the existence of the "demon" itself, but rather precisely denied the specific location where it was hiding.

“I just found… two guys who are connected to ‘demons’.”

This statement was like a bombshell dropped on a calm lake.

"Two guys who are connected to demons."

Almost at the same moment they stopped talking, a dark-colored carriage with a classic style, pulled by two strong chestnut horses, silently stopped next to the platform exit, as if it had been calculated in advance.

On the cart shaft, a driver dressed in a neat, thick woolen coat and wearing a baseball cap, fixed his gaze precisely on the two men.

He jumped off the car with a deft movement, his deliberate deference evident in his gesture. He removed his hat, revealing a weathered face with sharp eyes. His gaze lingered on Matou Ike for a moment before he bowed slightly.

"We've been waiting for you. Are you Mr. Matouchi?" The coachman's voice was deep and clear, and he used a tone of confirmation rather than inquiry.

Matou Ike showed no surprise on his face, simply looking back calmly at the coachman.

His demeanor still carried a habitual, almost detached, leisurely air, as if everything was as expected.

"Lord Byron instructed me to come and fetch you," the coachman continued, a hint of awe naturally emanating from his tone when he mentioned the name "Byron." "Please get in the carriage."

He turned to the side and opened the carriage door, which was decorated with simple patterns.

"Then I won't stand on ceremony." Matou Ike's voice was calm and even, as if accepting the invitation from an old friend's servant was the most natural thing in the world.

Arcueid's gaze darted curiously back and forth between the coachman and Matou Pond, as if observing an interesting silent play.

She seemed unresponsive to the name "Byron," her attention drawn more to the two snorting, glossy-maned horses.

Matou Ike didn't offer any further explanation, but simply gestured towards the car door with her eyes.

He nimbly stepped onto the carriage's footboard and sat inside the carriage, which was covered in dark velvet and exuded the scent of leather and wood.

Once seated, he didn't urge anyone on, but instead turned his gaze to Arcueid, who was still standing outside the car, seemingly still enjoying the surrounding scenery.

Sensing his gaze, Arcueid withdrew her eyes from the distant lake and mountains, and like a cat awakened from its trance, she turned gracefully, lifted her skirt, and climbed into the carriage.

The coachman skillfully closed the door, shutting out the crisp air from outside.

The horse, having received a precise and controlled lash from the coachman, let out a low neigh, then strode forward with strong strides, pulling the carriage along.

The carriage moved with exceptional smoothness. Not only on flat roads, but even on the rather treacherous and winding mountain roads leading deep into the lake district, the carriage maintained an almost elegant posture.

Despite being pulled by live animals, the passengers inside the carriage felt almost no bumps or jolts like those in a regular horse-drawn carriage.

The air was filled with extremely subtle, almost imperceptible magical fluctuations—this was no ordinary skill.

Matou Ike's gaze swept across the interior wall of the carriage without making a sound, and he understood.

It seems that some basic magic trick, similar to weight reduction or buoyancy adjustment, was applied to this moving vehicle, much like the techniques magicians often use to handle heavy suitcases, making the journey almost unrealistically comfortable.

The wheels rolled rhythmically over the mountain road covered with gravel and moss, with increasingly lush greenery on both sides and the occasional glimpse of a lake reflecting the sky like a mirror.

The air was crisp and moist, carrying the scent of pine needles and fir.

Shortly after--

"...It seems like I can see it now."

He had been silently gazing at Matou Pond outside the window, then gestured slightly forward with his chin.

Through the frame of the carriage window, a vast lakeside, shimmering like shattered diamonds, comes into view amidst the layered mountains.

On the shore of that clear lake, two unusual towers rose from the ground.

That is not the square or streamlined shape commonly seen in modern architecture.

By modern architectural standards, they are not towering structures; their height is roughly equivalent to a four-story building.

However, its very existence is filled with an unsettling sense of the bizarre.

The two towers stand at an indescribable, non-natural angle.

They are like two giant nails that have been forcibly driven into the earth by an invisible giant hand and twisted and deformed by some enormous force;

They resemble two bizarre stalagmites that defy the pull of sunlight and stubbornly grow in different directions.

The towers are not perfectly symmetrical, and their angles of inclination seem to be subtly different, echoing each other yet subtly opposing each other, creating a strange landscape full of tension, resembling "twins" yet "different appearances".

“That’s the Twin Towers,” Matouchi’s voice remained calm, as if he were introducing an ordinary tourist attraction, but his words revealed a wealth of information that could not be ignored.

"Or, to add the name of the ancient family that governs this land, it would be more accurate to call them—Shuangmaota Izeruma."

“Twin Towers…Izeruma…” Arcueid murmured the name, her amber eyes losing their pure curiosity about the scenery for the first time and becoming tinged with scrutiny.

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the two leaning tower shadows, as if she were deciphering some kind of profound rune.

The tower's unnatural posture seemed to evoke in her a deep-seated, instinctive feeling for the existence of the "abnormal."

Perhaps the carriage wasn't intentionally soundproofed, or perhaps the driver himself had exceptional hearing.

Shortly after Arcueid finished speaking, the coachman's voice, tinged with a barely perceptible sense of awe and seemingly carried on the wind, clearly penetrated the carriage:

"Yes, esteemed guest. The one on the east side, which is bathed in more morning light, is called the 'Tower of the Sun'; while the one on the west side, which is often the first to be shrouded in twilight, is called the 'Tower of the Moon'."

Tower of the Sun.

Tower of the Moon.

The imagery of the sun and moon is clear and highly symbolic.

However, in Matouike's eyes at this moment, the two giant shadows standing silently on the lakeside at an unnatural angle seemed more like some kind of terrifying being lurking in its nest, patiently waiting for its prey to fall into its trap—for example, the legendary antlion.

The magician's workshop is itself an extension of will and power.

As a territory managed by an ancient magic family for generations, this place has long been optimized and reconstructed. Every inch of land and every breath of air is imbued with the will of the Izeruma family and woven into a vast and intricate magic system.

Simply put, stepping onto this land is like entering a living fortress. The seemingly ordinary soil under your feet, the breeze blowing overhead, and even the air you breathe can transform into deadly traps and weapons in an instant without you even noticing.

An unusual tension, like an invisible spiderweb, crept in, causing a barely perceptible, cold smile to appear on Matou Ike's usually aloof lips.

That's the hunter's instinctive excitement when facing a real challenge.

This time, the carriage stopped precisely beside the towering, silent shadow of the Moon Tower.

"The venue is over here—" The driver's voice returned to its initial respectfulness. He took off his hat again and bowed slightly towards the carriage. "Then, please enjoy yourselves."

Having a great time? Right in the heart of this antlion's lair? A cold sneer flashed through Matou Ike's mind, but his face remained impassive.