novelraw Chapter 14: Fury
Chapter 14: Fury
“Are you sure? I mentioned earlier—they do show a degree of aggression toward living people.”
“It’s fine. Even if they do, their physical condition won’t allow them to exert themselves.”
Fischer looked at the withered figures inside the cell, bodies like brittle bones about to fall apart. With the minimal food intake they’d survived on, the fact that they were still alive was already a miracle.
Seeing Fischer insist on entering, Keken finally ordered the soldiers to unlock the cell door. He also had them hand him a torch, intending to go in with Fischer.
“You can wait outside, you know. I’ll be fine going in alone.”
Keken smiled.
“It’s alright. I can help light the way and answer any questions you might have.”
Fischer nodded and stepped into the damp, shadowy prison cell. As if sensing the presence of the living, the patients inside struggled to rise—but their frail bodies couldn’t budge. They could only writhe in place, bulging eyes locked on Fischer.
A few who were newer cases and still retained some strength clawed their way forward, reaching toward Fischer in a frenzy—but even then, after crawling a few steps, they collapsed, exhausted, reduced to pitiful howls.
“Have their identities been confirmed?” Fischer crouched beside one of the immobile patients. As the torchlight drew closer, he finally saw the dried streaks of blue on the man's face. Just like Keken had said, the fluid had oozed from within.
“Ah, well... it’s complicated. There’s all sorts—farmers from the wilds, hunters, merchants from Schwalli, traveling maids… there’s no common thread. And from what friends and family said, none of them had been to the same places. Some never even left home before falling ill.”
The more Fischer listened, the deeper his frown grew. The lack of connection between cases only made the illness more baffling.
“There shouldn’t be any record of a similar illness in the Western Continent, right, Mr. Fischer?” Keken knelt beside him, torch in hand. “If you're interested, maybe you could include this in your next paper. I just came up with the name ‘Azure Frenzy’—but how about calling it Fischer's Azure Frenzy for the official term?”
Fischer gave a dry laugh.
“I’m not the one who got sick—why name it after me?”
Keken chuckled as well, the flickering torch shifting slightly. The light moved—just enough for Fischer to catch a glimpse of the patient’s veins, tinged a dark blue-black.
Something felt off.
Fischer seemed to notice something. He borrowed a knife from a nearby soldier and carefully made a small incision in the patient’s leathery skin. As the man whimpered dully in pain, viscous blue fluid trickled from the wound and dripped onto the floor.
“Wait… that blue fluid—is their blood?”
Keken was just as shocked. Fischer had already suspected their skin tone was odd, but he had thought it was due to poor nutrition—not that their blood had literally turned blue.
The veins and bodily functions didn’t appear damaged. Aside from the color change, there were no visible abnormalities.
But if that was the case—what about their magic circuits?
The thought struck Fischer suddenly.
Every human possessed a complete set of magical circuits. Unlike [Witches]—a type of demi-human—the human magic circuit occupied only a small portion of the body. Scholars still hotly debated the origins of these circuits.
Two mainstream theories dominated the field. One held that magic circuits were minute biological structures too small for current tools to observe—hence, invisible to the naked eye but physically real. The other claimed that they weren’t biological at all, but part of a deeper metaphysical system—perhaps connected to the “soul.”
Fischer’s mind followed this thread. He picked up his cane, whose tip lit up with a glowing ring of intricate runes, and lightly tapped it against the patient’s body. But the moment the light made contact—it vanished without a trace.
Fischer’s expression changed.
“Mr. Fischer, what was that?” Keken asked, puzzled.
Fischer didn’t answer. Instead, he touched the glowing end of the cane to Keken’s trousers. This time, the light crawled slowly upward, winding along a path—twisting but complete—through Keken’s body. A moment later, the glow returned to the cane’s tip.
“Oh…”
Keken let out a sigh of comfort. When he opened his eyes again, the drunken haze had completely vanished. “Was that… healing magic?”
Fischer nodded, his expression turning grim.
“Their magic circuits are gone.”
“Go... gone?!”
Keken nearly dropped his jaw. Even now, humanity didn’t fully understand how magic circuits formed. They couldn’t even detect them through non-magical means. And now, right before their eyes, was a disease that could completely erase them.
No wonder Fischer had never heard of this before—no one had ever recorded the disappearance of a human’s magic circuit. They didn’t even know what would happen if one lost it.
“If the anti-magic scholars in Schwalli find out, it’d probably shatter their worldview,” Keken muttered after a moment of silence.
Anti-magic scholars were a particular school of thought. Based on how magic placed strain on the body, they argued it was a form of life consumption—and from that came various theories claiming magical circuits were useless or even harmful.
Fischer stood up and addressed Keken.
“This place is too rough. I’ll take some samples back to Saint Nary and examine them properly. If I find anything conclusive, I’ll contact you right away.”
Keken glanced around at the crude surroundings. Even he knew Fischer wouldn’t get far working in conditions like this.
Fischer collected some samples of the blue blood. After using his cane to recheck the patients’ magical status, he prepared to take his leave.
“You’re only staying one day?” Keken asked as they descended from the prison. “Why not stay a bit longer? I heard the Koxenin Circus is touring the Southern Continent. I was planning to catch their performance.”
Fischer smiled. After all, it was from that very circus that he had taken Raphaëlle and the others. He wondered how the ringmaster, Colin, would react if they crossed paths again—probably run for his life.
“Better not. I’ve got more pressing matters,” he replied, glancing at Raphaëlle, who was staring off in a certain direction. “If I get the chance, I’ll take you to the opera in Saint Nary.”
“Better make it Black Mamba Palace.”
Keken grinned in return. The Black Mamba Palace was a prestigious restaurant in Saint Nary, famous for its signature Black Mamba wine. It had once been exclusive to royalty—only after the parliamentary reforms was it made available to the public, though the price remained steep.
Fischer nodded, said goodbye to Keken as he boarded the carriage, then deliberately made his way along the street where the demi-human slaves were being sold.
Raphaëlle followed him in silence. The street was lively, but the atmosphere between them was heavy—like a thick, silent pool of water.
“Gentlemen, come take a look at my stock! Loyal werewolves, precious Dragonkin! Their blood and scales are worth a fortune!”
Fischer gave a glance toward the cage containing the shivering young male Dragonkin. He paused ever so slightly in his steps, as if waiting for something. But after a second or two of silence, nothing happened.
He adjusted his hat, lifted his cane, and continued toward the carriage lot.
Behind him, Raphaëlle glared at the Dragonkin slave in the cage, baring her teeth as her claws clenched tight. At the end of her tail, a small spiral knot formed—a known signal among Dragonkin that someone was about to lose control.
“Shoo, shoo! What’s a filthy Dragonkin slave doing here? Get outta the way!”
Apparently, Raphaëlle had lingered too long. The bandaged hunter “tsk’d” and waved her off like swatting a fly. She just lowered her head—but steam began rising from her clothes, startling the hunter, who took an instinctive step back.
“You damn beast... Where’s your owner? Who let a thing like you roam the streets?!”
“Raphaëlle…”
Her body stiffened. She turned her head rigidly to see Fischer looking back at her, speaking softly.
She understood what he meant. This game—it was theirs alone. If she lashed out now, the game would be over. And Larr and the others…
She bit down hard—so hard it felt like she might shatter her own teeth. Head bowed, she went still. Even the hissing steam around her gradually subsided.
“Hah... So your damned master finally realized what a nuisance it is to let a rabid dog like you loose. Stay away from me, or I’ll call the guards and have that b*****d arrested!”
Seeing this, the now-emboldened slave trader seemed to think her reaction meant the slave mark was still working. His face twisted into rage as he pointed at Raphaëlle and shouted.
She didn’t understand the human’s words, but she could read every inch of the disgust on his face.
Dn it. Dn it. Dn it. Dn it. D**n it!!
D**n humans!
D**n them all!!
“ROAR!!”
Steam exploded from her body, blasting the nearby slave trader into the air. She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her claws spread like five gleaming knives, pupils contracting sharply as she charged straight at the tall figure ahead—Fischer’s back turned to her.
The fury in her chest felt hot enough to burn her alive. The whistling steam sent nearby pedestrians scrambling, terrified of the rampaging Dragonkin.
But the gentleman at the center of her vision didn’t move an inch.
Fischer merely glanced over his shoulder, one hand resting on the brim of his hat. Beneath the pure black brim, his eyes were chillingly cold.