Chapter Forty-Nine: Westcott is to blame! He's at fault!
Ugh… who made exams a thing?
I'm not even halfway done; I just finished my second exam today.
I won't be done until next week.
That's the reason for the slow updates.
My brain also isn't really working; I need time to think.. and read.
Sighs in tiredness.
Monday.
08:26 P.M.
England, ya!
Hallo~ hallo~ hallo~
If Morgan wasn't occupied with his luggage, that would've been the nonsense spilling out of his mouth.
On a more serious note—
Roughly fourteen hours of flight was no joke.
Sure, he was superhuman, but his body wasn't entirely superhuman.
Dragging his trunk across the tiled floor, past the crowds of people, Morgan continued forward.
'I seriously have no idea how deep those people's connections run, but… it's clear.'
…they were useful.
Apparently his lodgings, and even a taxi, had been arranged before he arrived.
Of course, it was taken care of by none other than them.
But there was only one thing he lamented about.
'It's a pity I couldn't bring [Avalon] with me.'
With an exhausted expression, Morgan continued walking until he exited the building.
A different air, from the sterilized air of the airport, met him there.
It was a much more natural and different one to Japan's or America's.
For a moment, Morgan glanced around.
Shortly, his eyes landed on a car already parked by the side, prompting him to approach it.
Knock knock.
Morgan tapped on the window.
As he did, the tinted glass rolled down.
"Oh, so you must be the person I'm picking up. Morgan Sinclair, is that correct."
English.
It was unmistakably so.
The driver was an average, typical middle-aged man, but with much sharper features.
He held a paper in hand, looking towards Morgan as he read the name.
"Hmm. That's me."
Morgan responded in kind, wearing a practiced smile as he tilted his head slightly.
"Yes. Thank you for the help."
"Oh, it's no problem, come on in."
Morgan nodded, dragging his suitcase to the backseat door.
For a moment—
He stared at his reflection in the glass.
A crooked smile was reflected back at him.
He wiped a finger across his lips briefly before shaking his head.
Ghcak—!
Opening the door, he placed his travel luggage inside before climbing in himself.
Since he wouldn't be here long, he'd packed using a compressed travel case.
It had several compartments, which allowed clothes to fit in.
Of course, that only helped if one wasn't dealing with heavy luggage.
"Where to, sir?"
"Nexus Rondo. My stay is right there, sir."
The driver nodded briefly, starting the engine as Morgan leaned his head back against the seat.
'...Haah.'
For now, he had many things to keep up with.
And so.
Closing his eyes,
His thoughts drifted as the cool air from the car's AC soothed him.
Just yesterday—
Rather,
…the night between Saturday and Sunday, he and [Beta] had come up with a new system.
While they could transport [Avalon] as cargo…
Morgan had decided against it.
Not to mention, it wouldn't be worth it if he didn't expand his repertoire.
That was why—
He founded the C.A.S system.
Well, as usual, he came up with the concept and [Beta] streamlined it.
No, actually, to be honest, it was based on an already existing technology,
The bullet fired by it was what he analyzed.
And Morgan discovered that a localized Territory could be ejected.
Since he couldn't expand his Territory when using [Avalon], he needed alternative methods.
However, even then, many problems remained.
A Territory is defined as a Territory because it is a subjective reality.
That is to say… a localized Territory would eventually lose its structure.
Not to mention.
Or what could be said to be the most concerning is, the load.
The burden of maintaining multiple Territories simultaneously.
It would no doubt fry most Wizards' brains.
Even with [Avalon],
It would be a stretch for him.
At the very least, theoretically and practically based on simulations.
While he could dull his senses until the strain became tolerable…
In the end, it would only lasted during the activation.
After dismissing his Territory—
The recoil would hit him.
Not even he can escape it.
C.A.S systems were meant to solve this problem.
Well, at least, help achieve this through the use of automated Realizers.
But so far, their research hasn't gotten anywhere.
All roads led them to that girl, Artemisia.
In hindsight, however, it allowed them to explore other options.
Under the
To put it simply,
…Just like laser blades or the standard anti-Spirit weapons Wizards used.
They were similar.
But these possessed an in-built function that produced a specialized type of effect.
While it was impossible to create weapons that could initialize
or
As long as one understood the principles of [Mana Manipulation].
Triggering functions adjacent to those effects might not be impossible.
Of course!
Most Wizards or Spirits could defend against such attacks if they came from another Wizard.
However,
If the one using it was him… then, that was a completely different matter.
And if Morgan were to put it—
'It's basically a whole lot of bull.'
C.A.S systems were essentially side projects, if anything.
Side projects to test specific conditions or further his and Beta's knowledge in the field.
However, on the other hand—
From Morgan's perspective:
Better a weapon do the work than undergoing a life-threatening surgery.
Quite hypocritical, considering he went through that exact process.
Even now…
Morgan's fingers briefly brushed the back of his neck, over the patch behind it.
'…the Realizer there has completely merged with my nervous system.'
He let out a sigh before his eyes drifted to the side.
"Speaking of which, sir, sorry to bother you, but with the way you look, did you come to visit somebody?"
As Morgan stared out the window, that question pulled his attention.
"Yes. I'm here for a relative."
"Is that so?"
The man's brows rose.
Morgan could more or less see that through the reflection in the car's front mirror.
But he paid it no mind.
Instead, his gaze drifted back out the window as the car passed buildings of a different architecture.
Modern European structures.
And in the distance, that iconic landmark:
The Clock Tower.
Despite that, with his heightened perception, he caught a few odd details.
'Emergency constructs, no, defence systems?'
Morgan blinked.
Unsurprising…
America had them too, and they were used often whenever a spacequake hit.
Parts of the ground would sink, then metal plating would slide over the top.
It was mainly used to protect important structures such as the White House, the Clock Tower, and others.
With that in mind,
Morgan finally shifted his attention toward the driver, tilting his head slightly.
"What about you, good sir? Has everything been alright here?"
For a moment, the man paused.
Then he let out a dry chuckle.
"Well… spacequakes have been hitting this area quite frequently. Last week alone, we had three cases."
He continued.
"No, counting this month alone, its been more than ten."
Ten?
Morgan's eyes widened as he pushed his back away from the seat.
Wasn't that excessive?
He was aware that the so-called strongest Wizard and the number two were stationed here, but still…
How was this place even holding up?
No, if he reasoned it very well.
'Spirits in other countries don't necessarily match up to the ones in Japan.'
Quasi-Spirits were proof of that.
'These guys may be genuine Spirits… but weaker. Or even just slightly stronger than a Quasi-Spirit.'
Placing his left hand over his lips, Morgan thought.
Slowly, involuntarily, the corner of his mouth rose into a smile.
Indeed.
Perhaps it was even more worth it, coming all the way here.
"What? Is it that surprising?"
"Yeah? I mean… what about businesses and stuff? Surely it's affecting those, right?"
Morgan cringed asking that.
Even though he already understood this world well enough.
Imagining certain things or scenarios from another perspective really showed how much things suck at times.
For example.
Imagine you're a self-sustaining member of society.
Even better.
Use the taxi driver as an example.
Taxi-driver: Why me?
Suddenly, the spacequake alarm rings, and it's right in the middle of your usual route.
You run for shelter.
Only to come back and find your car in ruins or something along those lines.
'I'd definitely be pissed.'
Morgan shut his eyes with an understanding expression and a slow imperceptible nod.
He could sympathize with people this kind of thing happened to.
"…haha, well, I guess there's no choice but to just live with it."
"Truly. Even if the government's doing a good job, I'd still find myself pissed."
"Oh, how understanding, young man. That's right! Get a load of these things! Let me tell you something—!"
And like that…
The man began a full-blown rant about how a spacequake ruined a business his friend owned.
Morgan sympathized with the man by dramatically adding fuel to the fire.
Yes!
It's neither their fault nor the Spirits' fault. Yes! Westcott is to blame!
With almost righteous, selfish, unwarranted fury.
Morgan clenched his fist with gritted teeth.
"It's all Westcott's fault! He's to blame!"
"Yes! He's to blame—wait, what? Why?"
Of course, it was a joke Morgan didn't think much of.
If he truly meant what he said…
Then finding Deus Ex Machina Industries and launching a
Of course.
If Westcott really pisses him off, then he'd do it.
But really, that's a story for another episode.