**#322. Side Story 1. Collapse (6)**
—
The news of Joshua’s death was reported the very next day.
> “Joshua, a promising young talent of the Stona school. Killed in an attack by a ‘murderous beast.’”
>
> “Mehel, administrative director: ‘Joshua came from beyond the wall, but he was a boy with talent more brilliant than anyone else.’”
>
> “The funeral will be held within the Stona school in three days, and it has been announced that visits from outsiders will not be permitted.”
There was no explicit identification of the murderer.
However, everyone had a gut feeling.
It must have been the work of the purists.
And that instinct was confirmed by another murder the very next day.
In a deserted alley, a servant from a noble household who had gone out on an errand was found dead, bloodied and cold.
At the scene of the murder was a hastily scribbled note.
> “This city is not yours. Those with filthy blood will not escape judgment beneath our noble flame.”
According to testimony, that servant was also from beyond the wall.
Judging by the blood splattered in all directions, it was clear the assailants acted with seething hatred.
The incidents continued to occur thereafter.
The association organized a civilian patrol force, but they couldn’t completely prevent the crimes.
It was as if the purists had been waiting for this moment—they executed the attacks in a coordinated and calculated manner.
Every time a victim appeared, a hate-filled note was left behind.
> “You with filthy blood, leave this city if you wish to live.”
>
> “The Imaginus School must immediately halt the wall demolition.”
Public opinion once again boiled over.
> “I knew something like this would happen. The Imaginus School recklessly stirred up dormant resentment within the city.”
>
> “Well, to me, these purists just look like fossils who can’t adapt to the times.”
Opinions clashed sharply.
Some defended the actions of the purists. Others expressed strong opposition.
**Flutter—**
One of the newspapers scattered across the streets caught the wind and soared high.
It flew eastward, like a free bird, until the wind died down and its momentum faded.
Below it lay the wilderness.
The demolition camp before the city wall.
“……”
Fueol, who had been taking a break at an outdoor table, caught the drifting newspaper and opened it.
> “…There is no doubt that the responsibility for the current chaos in the city lies with Administrator Ray, who triggered the demolition project. Furthermore…”
As he read, Fueol frowned and crumpled the paper.
“This is a malicious editorial. The murders happening in the city are the fault of the purists—how can they blame Administrator Ray?”
Fueol’s voice was laced with anger.
Sitting in front of him, Ray calmly responded while reading a report.
“We can’t say there’s no connection at all. It’s true the purists were provoked by the wall demolition.”
“But that’s just causality! The purists are clearly committing crimes of their own volition.”
Frustrated, Fueol pounded his chest and sighed.
Then he looked to Ray and asked,
“Shouldn’t we take some kind of action? Put more effort into identifying the purists or something…?”
“Actually, Chairman Gustach just contacted me. They managed to arrest a few attackers on-site.”
Fueol’s eyes widened with curiosity and excitement.
“Oh…! Finally…! Did they reveal anything?”
“No. Apparently, there was no gain at all.”
The ones captured displayed intense hatred toward those from beyond the wall, as if brainwashed.
But they knew nothing.
They were mere pawns, following orders.
“Ah… I see.”
Fueol’s expression shifted subtly.
Ray noted it and spoke.
“In the end, it means we have to capture their leadership to end this conflict.”
The leadership of the purist group.
Ray suspected ten administrative directors who had harbored deep resentment within the academic society.
But they couldn’t be confronted directly.
Applying pressure without solid evidence would only worsen public opinion.
So for now, Ray had hired Nila to tail and monitor their every move.
“There are some individuals we’re watching. We haven’t had major breakthroughs yet, but the investigation is ongoing.”
“I see. If there’s anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
Ray’s gaze, which had been on Fueol, shifted toward the city wall.
Workers were busy.
“I have no intention of complying with the purists’ demand to stop the demolition.”
It was the fourth day since demolition began.
The magical arrays on the eastern wall were being dismantled rapidly by technicians and spreading to other sections.
Following the removed arrays, demolition crews were placing explosives.
Once complete, with the press of a detonation switch, the wall that had divided the city from the outside world would collapse.
Fueol nodded.
“I also believe that’s the right choice. These people use violence against the weak—we shouldn’t give in to their demands.”
“We do have to take action, though. We can’t just sit and watch as people continue to die.”
“Do you have a plan?”
Ray shared the plan he had discussed with Gustach and others.
“We’re going to set up a temporary shelter.”
“A shelter?”
“A place outside the wall where all those from beyond it can live together, until things settle down after the demolition.”
All the beyond-the-wall residents would be gathered in one place.
Fueol momentarily covered his mouth with a hand, obscuring his lower face.
“…It does sound like one of the best options available right now.”
But—
“Still, wouldn’t it remain dangerous if they stay in the city? Even with guards, the purists’ persistence means they’ll keep trying to find openings.”
A valid concern.
Ray had considered it as well.
“That’s why the shelter won’t be inside the city—it’ll be outside.”
“Outside? But is there any suitable location—”
“Right here.”
“Here? Ah…!”
Fueol quickly understood.
And let out a small murmur of admiration.
“Indeed, if it’s here, where high-ranking mages are always present, the purists wouldn’t dare make a move.”
“Exactly. And if we need more facilities, we can ask Len to add them. Oh, and I have a favor to ask.”
Ray pulled something out of his coat.
A small glass vial filled with blood.
“This is a sample taken from a crime scene. Think you can analyze it?”
“Oh, is it from a victim?”
“No, it’s from one of the attackers who fled. The scene had a skirmish. If we can identify whose it is, it might help us track the purists.”
Blood tracking was Fueol’s specialty, using blood magic.
However—
“There’s not much in the vial, so there’s a chance the analysis might fail. But I’ll do my best.”
Fueol took the vial and tucked it away, then hesitated before asking:
“Forgive me if this is inappropriate, but may I ask one question?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m curious about your current level, Director Ray.”
During his time helping at the camp, Fueol had asked Ray many questions.
What cultivation methods he used.
What life beyond the wall had been like.
And whether he had extensive combat experience.
Gustach had once remarked that this was likely an expression of admiration.
“……”
Ray looked at Fueol.
His eyes sparkled.
There was no reason not to tell him.
Whether he believed it or not was up to him.
“7th Circle.”
“Ah, I see! Oh… wait, what?”
Fueol’s face turned to one of utter disbelief.
*
*
*
The next day, alongside a major announcement from the Imaginus school, a refugee camp was promptly established.
“This way! Everyone, please line up here!”
“We’ll assign you your accommodations in order!”
There were about 300 refugees.
Despite the sudden relocation of their homes, not one of them voiced any complaints.
They were the lower class of the city, after all.
They were used to suffering losses, no matter the situation.
They couldn’t even express proper anger at the acts of the pure-blood supremacists.
They only trembled in fear, simply hoping for the storm to pass quickly.
“……”
Watching them, Ray was reminded of a flock of sheep.
Sheep that had been tamed by fear and quietly accepted whatever was done to them.
It was probably because of the discrimination and contempt that had been deeply ingrained in them while living in the city.
The harsh criticism aimed at the Imaginas school quickly faded.
The supporters were satisfied that Administrator Ray had devised countermeasures to prevent further innocent victims.
The opposition seemed content that the outsiders, long a thorn in their side, were now leaving the city like the receding tide.
Of course, they still voiced complaints about the ongoing demolition work.
But regardless, the attacks from the pure-blood supremacists did not continue.
A few more days passed like that.
A sky cleared of black clouds.
A starlit night, with everyone asleep.
Crackle—crack-crackle—
Ray sat at the outdoor table at the entrance of the camp, staring into the campfire.
“Why are you still up?”
A voice spoke.
Turning his head, he saw it was Fuoel.
It was early spring, and the night air was still chilly, so he wore a light coat.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Is it because of the wall demolition ceremony scheduled for tomorrow?”
Fuoel sat beside him naturally, continuing with a faint smile.
“So even someone like Administrator Ray gets nervous over such matters. I understand. It’s only natural to lose sleep before a big event.”
“……”
It wasn’t because of the demolition ceremony.
And as for nervousness—he had rarely ever felt such a thing in his life, aside from when Veronica hurled those blistering fastballs at him, asking if something had changed.
The reason he was awake at such a late hour—
It was due to one piece of intel.
That the ten secretaries, believed to be the core leadership of the pure-blood supremacist group, would be gathering in a secret location tonight.
“I can’t believe it.”
Fuoel lifted his head.
In the distance, the massive silhouette of the city wall loomed faintly.
“That all those walls that have enclosed the city for untold ages will crumble tomorrow at the push of a single detonation switch—it’s hard to believe.”
Still staring at the walls with a sentimental expression, Fuoel asked,
“Ray, how do you think the city will change from here on?”
“There will be a lot of conflict and clashes as people from outside flood in.”
Ray replied without hesitation.
At first, many problems would arise, but they’d gradually be resolved, and eventually the city—or rather, the world—would shift toward a positive future.
Fuoel nodded.
“I think so too. There will be many disputes at first, but they’ll be the growing pains of progress. The world will surely move forward. Magical development is indeed more advanced inside the walls, but through exchange, that gap will quickly narrow. Human blood is the same, and it’s only environmental differences. Natural magical talent should be roughly equal both inside and outside the walls.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“…What?”
Turning his head, Fuoel found himself staring at Ray’s icy expression.
A chill ran down his spine.
His instincts screamed red alert.
Ah—this is extremely dangerous.
Fuoel immediately transformed the blood droplets scattered around him into bullet-like projectiles and fired them at Ray.
“Die!”
Squaeeek──!
Dozens of blood bullets rained toward a single target.
If it had been an ordinary person, they would’ve been riddled through and through—dead on the spot.
But that didn’t happen.
“I was curious.”
Ray had vanished from his seat and reappeared beside the campfire, looking not at Fuoel but elsewhere.
His gaze was directed toward the city.
“To see when you lot would finally show your true colors.”
His voice was chilling.
Toward the ten shadows approaching, elongated and flickering in the campfire’s light.
—
