"Urgh...?!"
"D-Dad?!"
Hearing a scream, I immediately tried to rush to my father's side. But strong arms locked around me from behind in a full nelson, pinning me completely in place.
"Gah?!"
"Easy there. We ain't looking to take your life, but you're gonna do what you're told."
"Kuh, gh...!"
Choked by the burly man, I couldn't move an inch. It looked like Dad had been caught the same way; he was putting up a desperate resistance, but he couldn't break free.
"Hey, what about the old man?!"
"Got him pinned down tight!"
"Alright, don't let him slip away!"
What are they after? I wondered if this was part of the exam, but if so, dragging my uninvolved father into it made no sense. Could it be... money?
"D-Do you want money...? If that's it, name your—gah?!"
"Don't lump us in with those penny-pinching crooks...!"
"Guh, gh...!"
Perhaps I had provoked him, as the man tightened his forearm around my throat even further. It was dangerous to antagonize him with careless words. Setting myself aside, if anything happened to Dad...!
"Boss, if you choke him that hard, he's gonna die!"
"Tch, fine."
"Cough, hack..."
Thanks to the sudden slackening of his grip, I managed to draw a breath. Judging from their exchange, they had ambushed us as a coordinated group. The man holding me was undoubtedly their ringleader.
"Hey Boss, this kid doesn't even have a staff on him!"
"Yeah. It would've been a pain if he threw magic around."
"..."
I listened in silence to the men's conversation. The fact that they knew nothing about the Phantom Staff meant they had no connection to the third exam.
This is bad. While I could use magic, I had never trained in close-quarters combat. With Dad held hostage, trying to force my way out with a spell felt like the worst possible move. If I acted recklessly, they might hurt him, so I couldn't afford a single misstep.
"...What do you want? My dad has nothing to do with this."
"He's insurance. Pure insurance. If you try anything funny, we kill the old man."
"Damn it..."
Just as I thought. I was their sole target, yet they dragged Dad into this mess just to keep things simple....Cowardly bastards.
"Keegan Bauer, wasn't it? Take a look at this."
"...What are you doing?"
The man held a dagger before my eyes. Even in the dead of night, the blade caught the faint ambient light and gleamed with a vicious sheen. It had been honed to a razor edge...
"Simple enough. I'm going to chop off your left hand."
"...What?"
"You get the picture, don't you? I can't stand that number '1' on your wrist."
"What are you talking about—"
"If you say no, the old man dies. Your left hand, or your parent's life... Surely you know which one matters more, don't you?! Well, top scorer?!"
"Guh...!"
The moment the dagger pressed against my left wrist, the skin split slightly, and a thin line of blood welled up. If he swung down with all his might with a blade like this... it would sever the bone clean through.
"What is your goal? Why are you attacking me?"
"A bumpkin like you has no business here. Ulm folks are more than enough to become court mages."
"..."
I considered the possibility that this was just a rejected candidate venting their bitter frustration... but I couldn't sense a trace of mana from any of these men. They seemed utterly ignorant of magic, too, so it didn't feel like a simple personal grudge.
"Hey, kid... do you know why they started writing numbers on the left wrist in the first place?"
"I heard it was to stop people from tearing up paper admission tickets."
"That's right. Way back when, there was this pathetic bastard."
"What about him?"
"He came all the way from the boonies, only to get his exam ticket shredded to pieces. Rumor has it he scored the highest marks in history on the written test."
"...What's your point?"
"You're just like him. Only difference is—"
"Guh?!"
"—you're getting your whole hand chopped off! Does it hurt, huh?! Does it hurt?!"
Dragging the blade back and forth, the man deliberately drew out the pain. It burned. The skin tore open, and the cold steel felt poised to bite deep into the flesh. But I couldn't fight back. If I moved, Dad would be killed. Dad was the pillar of our home. I couldn't leave Mom and Marie destitute on the streets just to save my own left arm...!
"Boss, if we don't bind his arm first, blood's gonna squirt everywhere!"
"Tch... what a pain. Hey, someone tie this kid's arm off."
"I'll do it."
With that, one of the men holding Dad down stepped away. Grabbing a piece of cloth, he walked over toward us.
"K... Keegan, are you all right?"
"Hey, shut your trap!"
Perhaps because Dad had a little more breathing room now, a faint rasp slipped from his lips. Knowing he was at least alive brought a surge of relief. But... that didn't change the fact that our situation was dire.
"Is... is your left hand still there...?"
"Don't worry about me! You can't die in a place like this, Dad...!"
"It's fine, Keegan... If I have to sacrifice my son's arm, I don't deserve to call myself a father..."
In the darkness, I could see Dad struggling... and raising his right arm. A terrible premonition seized me, and I screamed in sheer desperation—
"Stop, Dad...!"
The next moment, Dad detonated fire magic at point-blank range.