Magician in Type-Moon

Page 500

"Alright, alright, Gesells, stop arguing."

The one who eased the tension was another team member, a fighter among a pair of brothers.

They always played the role of peacemakers in the group.

The two brothers came to this mysterious underground world from the surface a few years ago, dreaming of getting rich overnight.

"If our family were a more traditional magic family, we would probably have fought tooth and nail to inherit the magic crest long ago."

They liked to joke like this, often discussing these absurd assumptions during breaks, their laughter echoing in the dark corners of the labyrinth.

"Honestly, how did you manage to sell those things on the ground? Who did you sell them to?"

Another brother couldn't help but press for details. He was clearly interested in where the money came from, but the boy only gave vague answers and avoided the question.

"No, I... I encountered some problems."

He said in a low voice, his heart filled with confusion.

The money did not come from selling cursed bodies as he claimed, but was related to the modern magic science minister who called himself Hartles.

The boy didn't tell his companions this detail because he himself didn't quite understand why things had turned out this way.

"You guys have really spoiled him rotten!"

The two brothers responded to Geiselz's complaints with smiles, creating a relaxed and harmonious atmosphere.

Despite their perilous situation, this close relationship gave the boy a sense of warmth.

After all, they had been partners who had fought together for a long time. The boy knew that they were not only companions, but also his most important support in this labyrinth.

At this moment, the last team member walked up to the boy. She was a dark-skinned girl, tall and slender, with a calm expression. She was a security guard, responsible for the team's safety.

Her eyes, as dark and lustrous as her skin, exuded a profound aura that seemed to draw all eyes to her.

She is skilled in using automatically controlled elemental transformation magic, and any slight threat can be dealt with swiftly by her.

Her hair was short and neat, with the ends swaying in the wind around her neck, and her deep eyes were always calmly focused on the movements in the distance.

She walked to the boy's side and said softly:

"That's great. Your family issues are resolved too."

This sentence, though unadorned, is full of care and warmth.

The boy felt a gentle warmth welling up inside him. It was this simple yet sincere care that made him feel at ease.

He gripped the mining tools at his waist tightly, looked down at the faintly glowing ground, and finally mustered the courage to speak: "Um... how about we have a meal together after we get back to the city?"

The sounds of Gesells and his brothers chatting ahead now sounded like echoes from the horizon, growing ever more distant.

After a moment of silence, the dark-skinned girl turned her head, smiled slightly, and replied shyly, "Sure."

Her smile was like a ray of light passing through a circuit, warm and dazzling.

A strange sense of happiness welled up in the boy's heart, as if all his confusion and bewilderment had been answered at this moment.

That was more than ten years ago.

For the boy, those were undoubtedly his golden years.

Chapter 559 Labyrinth Survivors (4k)

London's bus system has a long history.

Even someone like Matouike, who has never been to London, is familiar with the short, stout red double-decker buses that frequently appear in movies and TV series.

London's earliest public transport was horse-drawn carriages. It wasn't until the introduction of automobiles in the early 20th century that buses gradually joined the subway as the city's transportation backbone.

These days, those two-section buses that connect front and back, resembling a folded snake, are still frequently seen on the streets, even though they seem prone to driving problems.

This perfectly illustrates its place in the hearts of Londoners—not just a tool, but more like a part of life.

At this moment, Matou Ike was sitting on the upper deck of such a double-decker bus, with Yvette, who had shamelessly followed him, beside him.

Outside the window, the street scene glides slowly by amidst the steady roar of the engine—

Sometimes it's a whole row of art galleries and museums with different styles.

Sometimes they ride side-by-side, always obeying traffic rules.

Regardless of the scene, it blends harmoniously with the city.

It was as if time itself had slowed down, captivating the viewer.

On the upper level of the carriage, the two exchanged information in hushed tones while admiring the street view. Just as they reached a crucial point, a certain name was mentioned.

"They...are all Hartres's disciples?"

"Yes, that's right."

Although the voice was kept very low, it was clear to both magicians with a simple amplification of their hearing.

Not to mention, Matou Ike also cast a disguise spell around them, translating the conversation into harmless topics that sounded like mundane school life to onlookers.

Yvette cleared her throat and continued speaking at a leisurely pace:

"After all, he was once the head of the Department of Modern Magic. The number of people who have received his guidance is roughly several hundred. But in reality, there are very few magicians who can be recognized as his 'disciples'."

This is true.

The professors at the Clock Tower often teach in groups of one or more. If auditors and short-term students are included, the number of students under a single professor may far exceed what most people imagine.

However, very few students actually get to know a professor's life and understand him as "a person" rather than "an authority figure".

Not to mention the modern magic department that Hartress was in, which was completely unattractive in that era and was simply not worth mentioning to ambitious magicians and those from traditional families.

and so--

The title "disciple" is not merely a formality of being a student.

Rather, he was a "person" who had established a profound connection with Hartres himself.

In other words, that group of people deserves attention.

"So, are we going to locate them now?"

“That’s right!” Yvette chuckled lightly, her tone as cheerful as if she were strolling through the streets rather than on a mission.

"According to your and the teacher's plan, now is the time to sort out all the clues related to Hartres one by one."

"I understand."

Matou Ike nodded.

Although they had just arrived in London and hadn't even had time to find accommodation before being assigned tasks, anyone would inevitably feel a little tired.

But since it was a task assigned by Weber, how could he possibly refuse?

As allies, mutual trust and cooperation are the prerequisites.

"So, let's get back to the main topic."

Yvette opened the booklet in her hand and quickly turned to a page.

"Regarding Hartres's disciple, the one we're visiting this time is Gesells Tolman. He's an alchemist who mainly makes magic potions, and his element is fire. He's very famous in the industry. Although he's had little contact with the Clock Tower in recent years, his products have an excellent reputation in the market."

"He doesn't sound like the kind of person who would easily stir up trouble."

“Yes, there’s no record of him being violent or belligerent at the moment… but,” Yvette shrugged and added softly, “we still have to be prepared if we encounter an unavoidable situation.”

The two confirmed several pieces of intelligence and countermeasures. Shortly afterward, the double-decker bus smoothly pulled into the station, the doors opened, and they disembarked along with the passengers.

Before me lay a tranquil residential area, with expansive green spaces connecting to the adjacent community park. Pedestrians strolled leisurely with their dogs along the roadside, creating an atmosphere so relaxed it was hard to believe I was investigating a magician's crime scene.

Although this residential area is only a 20-minute drive from the city center, it seems to be in its own world, both quiet and secluded.

It's hard to imagine that a real magician could be hiding among these seemingly ordinary English houses.

“Given the British national curiosity about ghosts,” Yvette said with a laugh, “their opinion might actually improve if they knew their neighbor was an alchemist.”

“…Hmm, maybe.” Matou Ike replied.

“The workshop should be to the west,” Yvette said confidently, looking at the map.

The two walked slowly down the street, and a familiar aroma wafted through the air—the smell of fish and chips from a park vendor.

That's typical London street food; most vendors prepare several condiments, such as mustard, vinegar, and tartar sauce, for customers to help themselves.

The crispy coating bursts with flavor on the tongue with every bite, a delightful combination of seasoning aroma and the refreshing, rich texture of the white fish. It's a taste Yvette has loved since her student days.

She paused for a moment instinctively, as if savoring a distant memory.

However, at that very moment, Matou Ike, who was walking beside her, stopped in his tracks.

There are several smells... mixed together.

His tone was low, as if he had sensed something unusual.

"Huh?" Yvette turned her head and saw that he looked slightly nervous.

“It’s a trace of magic. The colors are a muddy blue and purple.” He closed his eyes and whispered, “The base is a potion commonly used in alchemy… I recognize a few of them. But there’s a newer, more active scent mixed in… like crimson.”

His brows furrowed, and before he could finish speaking, a few crystal-clear tears slid down his cheeks.

"Why... are you crying?" Yvette was taken aback, her voice tinged with surprise.

But before she could finish speaking, those "teardrops" subtly changed—

The crystal vibrated slightly, as if drawn by some kind of circuit, and then transformed into several translucent, fly-shaped magic crystals in the air. They lightly fluttered their wings and flew up, circling over a certain residential building.

It was an old-fashioned English building with a chimney, a sloping roof, and narrow windows, as if it had been taken out of a fairy tale and transformed into an alchemy workshop.

"It's over there."

Matou Ike gazed at the building, her tone calm. "It has indeed been tampered with quite a bit; it looks like it's been completely transformed into a workshop. Shall we hack it in from here?"

As he spoke, he tilted his head slightly and looked at Yvette, as if seeking his companion's opinion.

As her nominal companion on this investigation, he still had to respect her judgment.

"Hmm~ Maybe we should give up on hacking for now." Yvette tilted her head, looking at Matou Ike with a strange expression.

"After all, we're just here to inquire about Hartres, not to conduct a raid. If we barge in rashly and they use self-defense as a pretext, then we can't blame them."

She paused and continued, "Let's go through the front door today and see if Mr. Geiselz is willing to receive guests."