Hell's Bed

Sin dressed in gold and jewels. It had always just been a word. Just like corrupt, vice or politician. Ideas that float around in the head. They were known and had an identity. Something that could be targeted, just never destroyed. Each, an eternal thing. As if the world itself required them for life energy to exist. Removed it and another filled in fresh and ready to go.

Just a word. Until today.

Yori stood leaning against the balustrade of the second floor, looking down into an overly elaborate audience hall. Though it wasn’t being used as one, rather more of an entertainment room. But that was far too charitable a description for what he saw. More accurate would be to call it a circus, as much as he hated it. There were humans down there being forced to put on a show for the rich and corrupt. Though perhaps calling it a circus downplayed the significance, reducing them to a commodity. But that was exactly how they were being used.

His hand squeezed on the polished oak rail, making the wood groan. At least for now, he still had some self-control and a reason not to make a scene. But it was taking all of his restraint to avoid tearing the wood into splinters.

He knew it was going to be bad. It was literally a place that sold innocents stolen from Mado to the highest bidder. But maybe naively, he thought it’d be a far more perfunctory affair than being treated like some summer festival. They just smiled and laughed, not caring about their feelings. If he could murder every one of them, it wouldn’t redress the balance.

And this was still tame from what the pamphlet that he received upon entering advertised. Just a look at it made his blood boil. It would have ruined his disguise.

Their plan ended up changing very little. But it did cost him quite a lot of money, which he spent without hesitation. A high-grade magic tool for disguise, paired with false history as a military contractor. If he was going to pretend to be someone corrupt, he could stomach that façade more than any of the others. It was a dirty secret that many organizations around the world used sorcerers for assassination or small-scale strikes. It could never be anything big; the Veil would step in. But toppling governments and delivering coups were common trades. But there were worse things in Yori’s mind than that.

Fortunately, as he learned on entering, everyone radiated some amount of mana from tool usage. Protection, deception, vanity, everyone had a reason. Him carrying one or two actively wouldn’t be seen as very strange. Yori picked one that changed his face and another that distorted attention. Without active effort or counterspell, everyone would naturally be inclined to ignore him.

His part in the plan was to create a hole in the defense, or more accurately, disable it. While he didn’t like it, Yori agreed to use his Eye of Akasha for the mission. Given the size of the venue and the number of people, he wouldn’t be able to take them all out. But at the center, he should remove a lot from the field. Though it would take him off the board at the same time. It meant trusting in Miho’s ability to get her sister and anyone else to safety in the chaos. This wasn’t a razing, as much as he wished, but a rescue. In and out, nothing more. That would be more than enough trouble.

The main event wouldn’t be for a while. It gave Miho the time that she needed to search. Though they were in a rather large building that he didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t on the map. Which made him wonder how much was paid to the government to keep it unknown. And even then, most of it was underground, hiding even more out of sight.

If it gave him any comfort. After this, they would have to abandon the building. Once the secret was out, they wouldn’t risk still using it. The cost would be enormous, he hoped. A minor prize to take away from all of the filth below him.

Before the sight of people being exploited dug deeper into his heart, Yori forced himself to move on. Leaving only a set of dents in the wood. He needed to get more center as much as he hated everything with his being.

Into the next room, the crowd of depravity only grew. The fancies of magic spells probably only gave wonders to those who had never seen it before. The novelty wore off, and so the magic show didn’t garner much attention.

However, the adjoining room contained many large screens and even a couple of viewing balconies into the neighboring room. Yori entered into what was politely being called the advertising hall. The show before was simple spells, nothing that the Veil would complain about. Everything on show now was a real threat to life, and if the Veil could see it would be interfering. But human greed or obsession found ways to make it turn a blind eye, as in the case of Miho’s tattoos.

When not using a loophole, traditional spellcraft used a catalyst like a staff, book or other tool of focus to channel mana through for building the array. This sort of highly concentrated mana was easy for the Veil to spot and identify a sorcerer, and push them to Mado. But like with Miho’s tattoo, if the spell was built in and didn’t require construction, just activation, it just looked like mana moving through the air, which exists everywhere in both worlds.

That was the goal of all Earth side sorcerers and organizations, crafting ways to build spells without being detected. And it was a very profitable business, always improving, allowing for worse and worse magic to be used.

Weapon and tool demonstrations, along with sorcerer blood sports. If it showed off advancements and moved money, they were showing it. And worst of all, he saw there was a betting hall for the blood sports. Not all of them were trained sorcerers. He fought with his urge to run to stop the fight.

“Many fine offerings this year, wouldn't you agree? Mister…”

Yori snapped out his anger, but remained tense as he looked over his shoulder. An older man, at least ten years his senior, looked at him with a big smile that ignored every inhumane act around them. Dressed in a noticeably flashy green and blue silk suit, but otherwise simple. They had the air of wealth, without being ego-driven about it. An odd one for all of the arrogance that Yori smelt in the room.

Everyone should have been ignoring him. He worked up his best polite smile as he shook the man’s hand in greeting. “Kajitani…” Yori leaned the introduction back.

“Ayugai, Hachiro. I don’t believe I’ve heard your name Mr. Kajitani. If you’re browsing the wares, I presume you're a trader or mercenary?”

“Yes, I do small business down in Osaka for the Southeast Asian interests. They’re a hungry bunch.”

“Constantly in one civil war or riot, yes, but they are loyal buyers.”

“Indeed. And your interests, sir?”

“Selling. Perhaps you’ve seen some of my pieces?” He subtly adjusted his suit collar to expose a small pin that had folded back. Yori fought his immediate urges. It was a circle with two bolts crossing in the center. A rather famous brand that he saw on mages he would rescue from time to time. He had only known it as the Crossbolt, which was the street name. No one knew the actual owner, at least the ones he interrogated.

Hachiro was the man responsible for using memory wiping and manipulation spells for psychologically conditioning his sorcerers. The mark was a sign of specific sorcerer training, like a seal of quality. They created ruthless killers out of anyone with nothing left but blood and death. Every humanity, every moral, their whole soul drained until they were simply a weapon to be bought and used.

Yori and others tried countless times to use dispelling tools, sorcerers on loan from Mado, anything to break through the brainwashing. And when it worked, he just had to watch them break. Often, conditions in the process were placed like a self-destruct. They’d tried to take their lives or fall into heavy, inescapable depression with the memories of what they did replaying for them. Like a cruel trick, knowing that they were innocent once and using that against them to be crunched on the weight of their guilt.

Most were rendered invalid. Returned to Mado for care, but forever broken. As if to laugh one last time at their futile work to save innocents from the dark recesses of the world.

He never imagined that he would have the chance to meet one of the men he wanted to break piece by piece in person. If he had still been shaking the man’s hand, they would have lost it. Mission be damned. Yori’s whole body felt on fire.