I Became the Mastermind Who Betrays the Heroines

Chapter 84 – The Concert (5)

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]

Chapter 84 – The Concert (5)

A discordant sound, tearing at our eardrums.

As the dissonant melody echoes on, the blood-red sea ripples violently, as though shaken by an earthquake.

Then, it surges forward, transforming into a towering wave that crashes toward the shore.

We halt in our tracks, stepping back from the beach.

Rumble!

The ground shudders.

The crimson wave, rising higher than our eyes can see, seems as if it could touch the very sun.

The churning waters boil as they charge, steeped in a dense concentration of Magi—corrosive as acid, ready to dissolve anything upon contact.

“We have to stop it.”

“Yes.”

Charlotte steps forward, her sword gripped tightly in both hands, striding fearlessly toward the impending tidal wave.

Not a flicker of fear shows in her clear eyes.

Mana gathers at her fingertips.

In moments, a radiant halo erupts along the length of her blade.

“Cleave.”

The word slips from her lips, soft yet sharp.

With a fierce swing, the sword arcs through the air, a bright flash slicing through the crimson mist.

A single streak of light collides directly with the massive wave.

And—

Crash!

The surging wave shatters into pieces.

The blood, now broken into a fine spray, scatters, only a few droplets from the nearest edge falling toward us.

As I cast a shadow umbrella over us to shield against the mist, Charlotte, breathing heavily beside me, mutters.

Even after just one strike, she appears noticeably drained.

“That… really took a toll.”

“The force of it is no joke.”

“I went all out, but barely managed to stop it.”

Charlotte flexes her tingling hands, clenching and unclenching her sore fingers, while I mutter with slight dismay.

“This time, he must have put more strength into it.”

The power was unexpected.

The Conductor’s thought-form.

Normally, Charlotte could handle it effortlessly, but it seemed he had prepared intensely for this.

A surprising turn, indeed.

It would have cost him dearly to muster this much force.

I murmured thoughtfully.

“This isn’t going to be an easy fight.”

“Doesn’t seem so.”

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”

“Fine. But do you know what’s going on here? All these strange things?”

“Perhaps.”

I knew all about the Conductor.

In the original story, I had faced him more times than I could count.

Wherever his music lingered, it brought nightmares to life.

Melodies soaked in Magi ensnare their listeners, twisting their very essence, corrupting them beyond salvation.

Once tainted, the victims are trapped in a cycle of slaughter and song, their humanity lost.

‘No wonder they called him the ultimate Katasto.’

The power to orchestrate massacres.

It doesn’t start on such a grand scale from the beginning, of course.

It begins with a small seed.

‘The Concert.’

A fictional space the Conductor creates.

It imprisons a few hosts inside.

Then he waits, until they’ve absorbed enough Magi.

Once fully transformed, he releases them beyond his domain.

The violent music spreads like a virus, devastating everything it touches.

The cathedral we stood in was no different.

A time bomb ready to go off at any moment.

If we didn’t take down the boss in time, the amassed Magi would detonate.

At the very least, it could wipe out an entire village.

Maybe worse.

This time, he’d poured even more into it, so it could engulf several nearby villages as well.

We couldn’t let that happen; we had to stop him.

‘The solution is simple enough.’

The Conductor’s domain is maintained by a “thought-form.”

Think of it as the central host—it anchors the gathered Magi and expands its range from there.

In other words, it’s the heart of the Concert.

Neutralize the thought-form, and the domain crumbles.

I pointed toward the woman ahead.

“For now, we need to subdue her.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

“Is it that difficult?”

“I could probably kill her. Barely.”

“Ha ha… I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. I owe her, in a way.”

“That’s impossible. I can’t restrain her alive with my power.”

Charlotte shook her head, then tilted it slightly, as if puzzled.

“Does capturing her alive even matter?”

“Pardon?”

“She’s been corrupted by the Magi. She’s beyond saving. So why capture her?”

“Just trust me. You’ll understand soon enough.”

“All right… I’ll try my best.”

Fingering her sword, she hesitated, gripping her sore wrist from the earlier clash.

The woman in the center of the sea, oblivious to Charlotte’s struggle, continued her performance.

Screech!

Her bow hovered over the violin strings.

As her elegant fingers resumed their stroke, an unbearable, distorted melody filled the air.

It was hard to believe such a ghastly sound could come from a violin.

“It’s coming.”

Rumble!

Once again, the surface trembled.

The boiling blood scattered upward, slowly coalescing in mid-air into the shape of countless sharp blades.

Hundreds of blood-red swords aimed their gleaming tips at us.

Against the crimson sea, beneath the bloodstained sky, they hung—a sight so ominous, it was almost overwhelming.

Even so.

“…”

Charlotte’s breathing remained calm.

She took a steadying stance.

Kneel!

She drove her sword into the sand, anchoring it deep. Grasping the hilt firmly, she let her mana surge.

Her blue eyes glinted with an almost rapturous light.

With her aura unleashed, she murmured the incantation that called forth her domain.

“Sword, bloom in color.”

—The Swordsmanship Art of Charlotte’s Domain

‘Ashen Garden’

Rumble!

Thorny vines of steel sprouted from the ground, spiraling around us.

They wove together, forming a grand scene—a garden of roses.

With a twist of her sword, Charlotte sent the countless petals of razor-sharp blades whirling around her.

Then, they scattered in a fierce storm, riding the wind as they hurtled forward.

Crash!

The battle raged on the blood-soaked shore.

The clashing storms mingled and spun, scattering blood and petals in every direction.

“Hah…”

Through the cacophony, Charlotte raised her sword.

Her once-transparent pupils now reflected the woman playing her dissonant melody.

***

Charlotte versus the Conductor’s thought-form.

The battle continued, fierce and relentless.

The thought-form pressed forward with torrents of Magi, and each time, Charlotte’s deft counters broke its momentum.

Her sword beams struck the waves, sending tremors through the sea.

“…”

I stood back, observing.

I played only a supporting role in the fight, providing minor assistance without engaging directly.

I wanted to gauge Charlotte’s progress.

Understanding the present gave me a foundation for future plans.

Charlotte didn’t object to my stance.

—“No need to reveal yourself. I know you’re not a bad person.”

—“I just… want to understand you better.”

She knew enough about my powers to trust my judgment.

She simply focused on her battle.

Clang! Crash! Thud!

The Conductor’s thought-form.

Charlotte was holding her ground, even against a foe meant for second-year students. Holding her own in her first year showed her extraordinary talent.

A genius, just as the story had said.

Of course—

‘She’s still far from perfect.’

She was only a first-year, and the Charlotte I remembered from her third year was still more formidable.

Her swordsmanship had room to grow.

Even her ultimate skill, Ashen Garden, lacked its full color.

But those gaps would fill over time.

‘She’s a prodigy.’

At least, I didn’t need to worry about her growth.

There were complications around the Rose, but I could help her with that easily enough.

I considered the situation carefully, reflecting on my plan.

While I was lost in thought—

Charlotte wavered, nearly collapsing.

She knelt, her stamina clearly spent.

Labored breaths spilled from her lips.

“Haa… haa…”

Her domain had nearly fallen apart.

The sturdy garden had shattered, and her steel roses lay broken.

With her mana reserves depleted, even the greenery wilted.

Charlotte steadied herself, casting me a level gaze.

“I’m sorry. I’m at my limit.”

So it was too much to subdue her after all.

Her surrender came as no surprise.

I nodded.

“You did well, Your Highness.”

“If it had been to kill her, maybe. But capturing her… it’s too difficult.”

“You’ll only grow stronger, so don’t worry.”

“You asked me to buy time. Was that enough?”

“More than enough.”

“Glad to hear it.”

With a faint smile, she finally sank to the ground.

She didn’t seem particularly afraid.

No—rather, it was as though she lacked strong emotions entirely.

A girl both strange and serene.

I stepped forward, leaving the fatigued princess behind, facing the thought-form that watched us.

The woman stood in the center of the sea, still playing her violin.

“Are you sure? She’s no ordinary foe.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“Right. Your power should be enough.”

“Though the sea of Magi is troublesome, it won’t be an issue if I cross it in a single leap.”

“Is there any way I can help?”

“If you could distract her, even just briefly, it would help.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll give you the signal.”

I pulled up a translucent blue screen.

A quick check of my remaining output.

Beep!

[Remaining Power: 82.7%]

Ample reserve.

I stretched my fingers and gave Charlotte the signal.

“Now.”

“Right.”

Charlotte retrieved her sword.

Closing her eyes briefly, she summoned every bit of remaining mana.

Blue energy surged around her.

Whirl!

A gust whipped across the beach.

A radiant glow lit the sword’s edge, as though warding off the crimson landscape, a pure white curtain swept forward.

A dazzling spectacle, sure to catch the eye.

“Kyahhh!”

Sensing the impending attack, the thought-form’s eyes went wide.

Murky blood trickled from her lifeless cheeks like tears.

The woman adjusted her grip on her bow, bracing herself for the coming strike.

Only platinum hair was reflected in her dark pupils.

But—

“That was just a feint.”

A full-force bluff.

The mana she’d flung was all flash, devoid of any real threat.

A decoy she’d poured her last bit of strength into.

The real move was yet to come.

Clap!

I clapped my hands sharply.

In the next instant—

I was behind the thought-form.

She whipped around, startled, but my hand was already at her throat.

Snap!

“…”

With lifeless lips, she could not even scream.

Struggling to free herself, she flailed, but I held her fast, shadow binding her limbs as tightly as a spider’s web.

“…”

In what seemed a last-ditch effort, she plucked her violin strings.

Twang!

The sharp noise set the Magi-infused sea churning, crimson waves roiling together.

As if to drag me under the bloody depths.

Rumble!

A grotesque sound rose from the swirling tide.

The scattered Magi gathered, forming stormy clouds of dark crimson.

It was a ferocious energy, far greater than before.

But I remained unmoved.

“…Hah.”

Instead, I scoffed.

Vain. Hollow. A gesture without meaning.

It evoked only a flicker of pity.

“Hear my call.”

I recited my incantation calmly.

“The Lord saith, Be of good cheer; it is I; be not afraid.”

Medro saith unto him, Lord, if it be thou, bid me come unto thee on the water.

He said, Come.

Medro stepped down from the boat and walked on the water to Him.

But when he saw the wind boisterous, he was afraid; and beginning to sink, he cried, saying, Lord, save me.

Immediately, He stretched forth His hand and caught him, saying, O thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?

And when they were come into the ship—

“The wind ceased.”

With a deep breath, I opened my eyes.

Clear, white irises gleamed, sharp with both light and shadow.

Following the holy verse, the storm-tossed sea stilled.

Silence fell, vast and serene.

“Calling the lost lamb.”

I gathered a Lie at my fingertips.

The shadow, creeping upwards, blackened the air around us.

And—

“Shatter.”

A word to end all transgressions.

Cracks splintered the sky.

Crack! Crack!

Like a mirror breaking, the blood-red world fractured, revealing glimpses of blue sky beyond.

The woman’s bound form gradually regained its warmth.

Medro Gardnier.

Her dull eyes blinked in confusion, struggling to understand whether this was reality or a dream.

She had been trapped in a nightmare, after all.

“Sir…?”

Her faint voice called out.

I held her gently, whispering softly in her ear.

“Let’s go home, my child.”

Before we knew it—

We stood upon a calm, blue sea.

[Translator - Peptobismol]

[Proofreader - Demon God]