"Human experimentation?!" Clever frowned, a look of deep revulsion passing over her features.
She had indeed overheard fragmented whispers within the intelligence networks that the elite Tower Warlocks of Leithanien would occasionally commit horrific acts that completely defied basic ethics and mortal morality, all for the sake of advancing their esoteric Magic research.
Patchouli, drawing upon her recent exhaustive analysis of Terra's history and regional cartography, cross-referenced the geographic coordinates with the chaotic entries in the damaged logbook to explain the grim reality behind this settlement's existence.
Their initial impression of the border post had been entirely accurate. Like the ruined settlement they had passed the previous evening, this town had originally been thoroughly devastated and abandoned due to the historic ravages of regional warfare. Furthermore, because of its extreme proximity to the lawless wastes of Kazdel and its barren, agricultural unprofitability, no nomadic city or local governor had ever bothered to invest the capital required to rebuild it.
Then, decades ago, a rogue Leithanien Tower Warlock happened upon the ruins.
Upon surveying the area, he concluded that the natural terrain was strategically magnificent. Surrounded by jagged mountain ridges on three sides, the basin was destined by nature to be an ideal defensive stronghold—incredibly easy to defend and remarkably difficult to assault. He believed that as long as a permanent imperial garrison was stationed here, it could comfortably check any aggression from Siracusa to the south and bottleneck the chaotic movements of Kazdel to the east.
Unfortunately for his ambitions, the Leithanien military high command felt there were significantly superior strategic choke points along the border, and they flatly rejected his formal proposal.
The Warlock, however, was far from discouraged by the military's dismissal. He arrogantly declared to his peers that if the empire refused to establish the garrison, he would simply construct an army of his own making.
As a high-tier spellcaster who specialized in the intersection of organic life and Magic formulas, he dedicated decades of isolated study to the project until he finally developed what he considered the perfect, self-sustaining "substitute" for a conventional military force. He utilized his immense wealth to purchase a massive contingent of Lupo slaves from the underground markets, systematically deploying forbidden Magic arrays to forcefully stimulate their primitive ancestral bloodlines, causing them to undergo a violent, permanent state of atavism.
Following a series of invasive, agonizing physical modifications, the captives were thoroughly broken and transformed into the mindless wolf-men the camp had encountered tonight.
At the absolute peak of the project's operational scale, the mutated wolf-man population within the valley had reached several thousand strong. Because the location was exceptionally remote and even desperate passing merchants deliberately avoided the sector, the dark enterprise remained completely undiscovered by the outside world for years. The altered subjects, bound by the absolute geofencing restrictions woven into their very biology, were physically incapable of migrating beyond the town limits and its immediate surroundings.
"In that case... since we have completely eliminated these subjects, will that Tower Warlock eventually come looking to cause trouble for our group?" Clever asked, her voice tinged with a distinct layer of worry.
Patchouli patted the worn cover of the notebook, a strange, mocking smile gracing her pale lips. "That is precisely where the most intriguing aspect of the situation lies."
She held up the document. "The absolute final entry recorded within this logbook was penned exactly five years ago."
She turned a page, her finger tracing the fading ink. "In other words, half a decade ago, due to some catastrophic internal accident or sudden external demise, that Tower Warlock either perished instantly or was forced to flee the region in a hurry, completely abandoning his research project. However, when he departed this world, he failed to lift the active behavioral commands bound to the wolf-men."
Patchouli's gaze cooled. "These modified entities possessed absolutely zero capacity for agricultural production or societal organization, and their deep-seated programming legally barred them from leaving the town borders to hunt. Ultimately, driven to mad desperation by raw, biological hunger, they instinctively began to cannibalize one another in the dark. Combined with sporadic ambushes launched against the scattered groups of rare travelers who accidentally wandered into the sector, they barely managed to survive until our arrival tonight—with only a meager hundred or so left from the original thousands."
An absolute, heavy silence fell over the campfire as the true weight of her words settled into the companions' minds.
"So... Flandre actually performed a genuine act of mercy by ending them all?" Clever sighed softly, a complex wave of pity washing over her.
The underlying reason why those creatures had looked so utterly maddened and unnatural during the day was finally glaringly clear. The reason their gazes had felt so intensely violating and uncomfortable when the carriage had rolled past—it was simply because their broken minds had regarded the traveling party as nothing more than fresh meat. Their rigid, motionless posture within the central plaza during the first half of the night had merely been a desperate survival instinct to conserve their dangerously low caloric energy, ensuring they could exert maximum force when launching their ambush under the absolute cover of darkness.
Therefore, Flandre systematically cutting them down with her blazing greatsword could be considered the most perfect release and curtain call these wretched souls could have ever hoped to receive.
"An act of mercy? Flandre is, of course, always doing wonderful things!"
The younger sister, who was currently leaning against Remilia while receiving the gentle, loving hair-brushing of her elder sister, immediately widened her large eyes the exact second she heard her name echoed in the conversation. Before she could jump up to boast, however, her head was firmly but gently pressed back down by Remilia's palm.
"Sit perfectly still," the elder sister commanded softly. "I am actively brushing out the tangles in your hair right now, so stop shifting around so much!"
"Then... what should be done regarding the state of this town?" Clever asked, turning her eyes back toward the distant silhouette of the dark, silent buildings. Who could have possibly deduced that such a horrific, systemic tragedy had transpired within the walls of such a seemingly ordinary, nondescript border settlement?
"Let it simply return to dust," Patchouli murmured calmly.
The grand magician casually adjusted the bridge of her glasses, then lightly spread her pale hands before executing a single, crisp clap in the precise direction of the border town.
Clap.
"It is finished," Patchouli declared smoothly.
Without offering another word, the magician turned on her heel and glided gracefully back into the interior of her tent to retire for the evening, leaving Clever standing frozen by the hearth. The librarian, who had fully braced herself to witness a spectacular, earth-shattering ultimate Magic display complete with massive casting circles, looked entirely bewildered.
"What exactly is finished?" Clever blinked, looking around blankly. "Where on earth was the visible Magic?"
She stared intently at the fabric flap of the tent Patchouli had just entered, then peered back out toward the distant town, which remained completely visible and utterly unchanged in the pale moonlight, her face an absolute picture of total confusion.
"High-end, conceptual Magic formulas do not require a redundant display of excessive light and shadow effects," Patchouli's muffled voice drifted out from the tent, offering an explanation to the bewildered librarian in a rare, academically patient mood. "To be entirely precise, truly powerful Magic structures avoid utilizing a chaotic mess of bright colors. Because the vivid manifestation of shifting colors simply indicates that the underlying elements are experiencing a massive amount of atmospheric friction and energetic waste before the spell even manages to physically impact the intended target."
"Ah?" Clever blinked again, her analytical brain struggling to keep pace with the conceptual lecture. "So... what specific Magic formula did you just execute?"
Patchouli paused for a brief moment of consideration before answering calmly. "Disintegration. Though given that the geographical radius of the array was scaled up slightly to encompass the entire basin, I suppose you could formally classify it as Great Disintegration."
Clever turned her head back to stare at the distant stone buildings, which still stood perfectly intact against the starry sky. She couldn't help but feel that the grand magician was simply teasing her intellect with a grand historical joke.
"Stop overanalyzing the theory and get some rest; we must continue our journey bright and early tomorrow morning," Hong Meiling remarked, giving Clever's shoulder a reassuring pat before letting out a massive, contagious yawn and stepping toward her own tent.
Clever found herself entirely speechless at the martial artist's casual demeanor. After all, she distinctly remembered that when the wave of rabid wolf-men had first come screaming across the flats earlier, she had subconsciously bolted toward the strongest physical defender for protection. Yet the exact microsecond her eyes had locked onto Hong Meiling, she had made the astounding discovery that the mansion's gatekeeper was actually sound asleep while standing perfectly upright on her feet.
"Ah! You possess the literal capability to sleep soundly while standing fully erect! Why on earth do you even require the comfort of a tent?" Clever complained loudly toward her retreating back.
"Shh—keep your volume down! Do not let the Mistress overhear you, or she will absolutely dock my monthly salary again," Hong Meiling whispered frantically, placing a quick finger over her lips to signal silence while casting a nervous, darting glance back toward Remilia. Upon discovering that the vampire master wasn't paying her the slightest bit of attention—her focus entirely anchored on meticulously braiding Flandre's long blonde hair—the martial artist finally let out a massive sigh of relief and ducked inside her shelter.
Once they were both settled inside the tent, Clever immediately pressed Hong Meiling for details regarding the mysterious Great Disintegration formula Patchouli had casually claimed to cast.
Hong Meiling merely offered a warm, knowing smile, patting the librarian's shoulder with absolute serenity. "Do not panic, and there is zero need to feel anxious. Simply close your eyes and go to sleep."
The martial artist closed her eyes, adding softly, "You will comprehend everything perfectly the moment tomorrow morning arrives."
Seeing that no further answers would be granted, Clever could only pull her blanket tight and lie down upon her cot to drift into sleep.
By the time she officially blinked her eyes open, the golden light of the next morning was already streaming through the fabric seams. The moment her boots touched the morning grass outside, her eyes subconsciously darted toward the far horizon where the border town had rested.
Her breath instantly caught in her throat.
The entire settlement had completely vanished into thin air.
To be entirely precise, it hadn't vanished into nothingness, but had rather been perfectly transformed into a massive, uniform mound of solid, exceptionally thick yellow earth. Yet Clever was absolutely, undeniably certain that she hadn't overheard a single sound of shifting stone, crashing masonry, or environmental upheaval throughout the entire night. The structural reality of the town had simply ceased to be.
At that exact moment, she turned her wide eyes toward the breakfast fire, where Patchouli was currently holding a small porcelain bowl of fish soup, gently feeding Flandre with a soft, affectionate smile. A profound wave of psychological shock rippled through Clever's entire being.
If that exact, silent conceptual formula were deployed directly against a living individual...
Visualizing the terrifying concept of a flesh-and-blood person inexplicably decomposing into a silent puff of fine sand in the blink of an eye, she couldn't suppress a violent, full-body shiver.
Following a silent breakfast, the carriage wheels began to churn once more, maintaining a steady pace toward the dangerous borders of Kazdel. As for the historic settlement resting in the valley behind their path... there was no longer a town to speak of, merely a silent, solitary hill of golden dust. Just as Patchouli had calmly decreed the night prior, permitting a settlement so thoroughly saturated with structural sin and human despair to quietly return to the earth was the absolute gentlest choice available.
Inside the moving carriage, Patchouli sat upright, an advanced academic textbook held firmly within her lap. Positioned directly in front of her knee, Flandre stood straight with her small hands clasped formally behind her back, reciting the contents of the page at the absolute top of her lungs.
It could be argued that the rhythmic recitation of core educational texts was one of the oldest, most traditional methods of baseline learning across the world. But the academic material currently unfolding inside the carriage was entirely divorced from standard subjects like language, literature, or territorial politics—Flandre was loudly, passionately memorizing high-tier Magic formulas.