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As someone who had been associated with death for an extended time, I found my master's behaviour to be far too sentimental. Really, I didn't consider it a good story either. Pursing her cute lips, I heard her gentle whisper, but let it pass. ".As expected, it wasn't a good story at all." Foregoing even his customary cigar, while covered in dirt and mud, he watched over its grave with a bored expression." At that time alone, with a mood similar to as if he had just spilled his soup, he held the cat until it breathed its last, and didn't leave its side until it was properly buried. Normally, he was very sensitive to even just getting his clothes dirty. "Feeding it some painkilling herbs, he took it back to his study, and spent close to half a day just holding it. "Nevertheless, my master then took the cat up, and held it in his arms thereafter." I knew my master was a bad person, but I had no idea as to what degree of bad he was. The girl's presence began to be mixed with anger.įor someone like me, who hadn't yet become used to living in London, I hadn't been sure how normal the response of those passers-by was. "Though those who walked by wouldn't come close to it, when my master arrived, he repeatedly started saying things like 'don't get run over here, you idiot.' Berating the cat that thought to cause problems for people even as it died, the people around who saw him only frowned and scowled." It was already unpleasant enough to look at before, but now it looked like nothing but a blood-stained lump of meat. "It's face had been half smashed, and one of each of its fore- and hind-legs were torn to pieces. It was probably hit some time in the middle of the night, and was discovered the next morning. One day, that stray cat was hit by a vehicle of some sort." At one point it attacked and bit my master's favourite boots, which bothered him to the point that he began to investigate a way to get revenge using magecraft. Taking up residence near a walking path, it was a stray cat that, by its bad behaviour, came to be hated by passers-by. "A cat? Is this supposed to be a good story?" ".Once, my master got in a fight with a cat." I didn't know if it would qualify as an answer, but I started giving voice to it as it was anyway. With her magical ability, it would easily penetrate something even as solid as a brick.Īs I spoke, a certain memory floated up in the back of my mind. It seemed if I gave another careless response, then the Gandr would come flying. I was immediately pressed for an answer. "Then why do you quietly follow someone like him?" Instead, even if it was just quietly fanning the flames, I would use even this short meeting to try and make her understand.ĭeciding to avoid the issue with ambiguity. But, if I did so in a place like this, this beautiful girl would not approve. I would simply raise my hands in complete and utter agreement if I could. Once more, as if to emphasize her point, the girl called out. "Your master is truly the worst kind of person." With just a leisurely movement of her hand, someone like me with no resistance to magecraft would undoubtedly be easily annihilated. In this case, where she was activating it through her Magic Crest, it could stop the heart, causing instant death, a technique known as a. Originally it was a weak curse that shot from the finger and caused only mild illness. On top of that, it was a form of magic that she was particularly skilled in, a spell known as the Gandr shot. A fixated Mystery, passed down like a secret art. Passed down in old Magus Lineages like hers, in a sense it was the greatest heirloom, and the greatest curse. Bestowed upon a Magus, it was like an artificial organ, or so I had been taught. It flowed as if tracing a kind of pattern, and even now was howling with fangs bared.Īh, of course, even I understood.

That level of hostility filled the girl's voice, and prana far beyond hostility coursed through her arm. Even if it had, I probably wouldn't have been able to say anything to refute the claim. Thinking it was a rather obvious assessment, it didn't occur to me to argue.

In a manner that was excessively spiteful and agitated, Luviagelita Edelfelt spat out those words. "Your master is truly the worst kind of Magus."