49 The Hydra of Savicche 1 (1/2)
”What in blazes... William, please tell me you are recording this,” said the dumbfounded Seran as he stared at the two scenes before him, one in a mirror and one in person.
[I'm recording both scenes with Yata no Kagami's powers. There are now 3 recordings: the original we saw first, the one we see in reality, and one of the recording via Yata no Kagami. I've made sure to save them completely, and I'm ready to download them into viewing crystals.] William, as astounded as he was, was still capable of immediate action, quickly and calmly performing his jobs with barely a thought needed. [You need to leave this town, now. If night falls before you do... you don't have spells to handle them yet, you'd need to make another spell based on the second of Amaterasu's Three Imperial Regalia, Kusanagi no Tsurugi, the Grass-Cutting Sword. The Mirror was much easier to create compared to the two, with the Sword being the hardest to create because it is the only one that was made for combat.]
Nodding silently, Seran took to the skies again, flying away from the eerie town and canceling his ocular enchantment. ”There's got to be something more to this... We'll have to send this information to Johann. He's of the Juneau Clan, so I'm sure he can send this to the main clan's leaders. This information might do a few things, the least of which being giving some form of closure to those who met their unfortunate end to these... nightly terrors...”
As Seran flew through the air, continuing his journey, William went through a series of details, [They are definitely not of any relation to the Spirit Race... They are far too... twisted to be of any of the extinct races, so that's not possible. Demons are nothing like those beings, nor are devils, that much we are sure of... They aren't any form of space beasts, that's certain... I think... whatever happened ended up causing the creation of a new race... I'm not sure what to call them, though...]
”Worry about that later, William. It's not that important what they're called as long as people know they exist. What worries me is that, when Polypheme Sect was destroyed, it took up almost a fifth of the Western Continent, and it had a population of over 30 million people. If that scene back there was enough to go by, that means about 30 million of those things exist... That's a racial superpower...”
[Right... That's almost as many of this new race as there are Elves in the Primeval Forest... On the bright side, it seems they're unable to leave the ruins... Once we're done with the Hydra and we deliver the recordings to Johann, we need to prepare to do some more investigation... and potentially some cleansing.]
The rest of Seran's flight was silent save for the sounds of the wind in the sky as he rocketed towards Savicche.
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It was almost sunset when Seran reached the skies over Savicche, the massive port city like a jewel in on the bay. After taking in the sights from above for a moment, the demigod suddenly dropped from the sky like a rock, not bothering to slow himself until he was right above the ground. He casually flipped to realign his feet with the ground and landed lightly with wind magic. Compared to the largest city Seran had been to, Lightwood Fortress, Savicche was nearly quadruple the size, a testament to the resources and potential of a huge empire and a port city. Even the infamous Hydra living in the bay didn't do anything to lessen Savicche's hustle and bustle.
Contrary to the several long lines of people going into and out of the city, the swiftness of the procedures was outstanding; Seran, who had been about the 100th or so person in line, not counting all of the adventurer parties or the guards for the two or three caravans, was able to reach the front of the line after no more than 10 minutes. Single-person or small party checks were done much quicker than the caravans, but were still just as thorough. No criminals or contraband would be entering or leaving Savicche without a squad of guardsmen on their tails.
An older man, maybe in his fifties, stood his guard attire with a homemade clipboard in hand, writing down details to add the register of daily travelers, routinely, and monotonously, asked Seran, ”Name and registration, please.” After Seran said his name and handed his guild card to the guardsman, the man lazily scanned over it, like always, before, as everyone did upon seeing it, froze on his title of S-rank Adventurer, among the rest of his titles. That didn't include the most prominent two, the World's Strongest Demigod and the Greenwood King.