Chapter 506 - Chapter 506 – The Stage of Persuasion (2)

Chapter 506 – The Stage of Persuasion (2)

If you want to know someone, look around them.

'As expected, this man is the closest to that new successor.'

Grave Rudworth quickly observed the man standing a step before him.

A generally fierce face, with a small scar by the left eye.

Tall in height.

A considerable physique.

The dark-blue robe draped over him was clearly no ordinary thing at a glance—it must be an artifact, or at least a magic item of equal value.

The leather armor visible underneath had no magical effect, yet it was clear it was crafted from a magical beast, carrying high resistance.

'No magic power can be felt. It doesn't seem like he's concealing his realm. As I see it, he's not a Mage but a swordsman.'

Still, his spirit was remarkable.

From the feel of it, he seemed to be a powerhouse at least on the level of national strength. A pure instinct, honed through a harsh life, whispered so.

What puzzled him, however, was that the sword strapped to the swordsman's waist didn't look very impressive.

Not for his level.

It wouldn't be strange if he owned an artifact, but it looked as though he had no choice but to carry a temporary weapon.

And then.

'That Mage also seems to stand in a position similar to this swordsman.'

Grave shifted his gaze slightly. A beautiful woman with dark green hair, arms folded, was calmly observing the situation.

At least 6th-tier or higher.

No doubt these two were the arms supporting the new successor of Black Hour.

Indeed, when he had demanded proof from the successor, they were the ones who had shown strong displeasure.

'An unexpected combination.'

From the start, Black Hour was a group for magical research—naturally, those who did not pursue magic could not belong.

Yet standing proudly at the new successor's side was someone who fell outside those rules. That fact led to a certain conclusion.

'Unlike Dahit, this successor does not have roots in Black Hour.'

Grave was convinced.

'He has his own faction.'

Though he didn't know who they were, the fact that he had at least two powerhouses, each estimated to be of national level, proved it was no small force.

And there must be a unique purpose.

Despite being a disciple of Harkan, he had not made Black Hour his foundation, but instead built his own power. That meant he had established his own system.

Just as Black Hour itself had been founded for magical research.

And that purpose… it must have been accepted by those who had once been the comrades of Black Hour, even if they differed from the original members.

'At the very least, unlike Dahit, there won't be betrayal because they failed to grasp his dark inner self. Of course, Lady Melard and Lord Cayman must have confirmed that much.'

Difficult as it was to acknowledge right now, if they believed and watched carefully, someday even the six defeated ones might follow.

Despite knowing that, Grave moved into action.

The head of a group was not an individual, but the mind and heart of the collective.

To evaluate such a being thoroughly, one had to observe those around him.

Those closest inevitably reflected some part of their leader's ability and mind.

'The Mage aside, the swordsman's loyalty seems deep….'

But this was not enough.

Once the spark was lit, it had to burn.

"The ones who must prove themselves are us, you say… indeed, that's not wrong. On one side, a band of old defeated ones, and on the other, a young successor. I too agree."

Grave flicked away his black tobacco.

The ember crumbled, striking the ground as he declared.

"Excuse me for a moment, Lady Melard."

Grave bent his right wrist.

Clink, a sharp dagger hidden in his sleeve slid out, whining as it bared its head.

He gripped it, thrusting without hesitation toward the man's head.

The gleaming slash.

The man, Adrian, did not move, only following the dagger's line with his eyes. From behind, Verden spoke softly.

"Grant him what he wants."

"Yes, my lord."

Only after receiving the order did Adrian react.

He deflected Grave's dagger with his shoulder, twisted low, and like a flash drew his sword. A makeshift weapon, borrowed from Verden's subspace.

The hilt shot diagonally toward Grave's abdomen.

Clang!

A metallic sound resounded.

Grave, retreating after blocking with a short sword drawn from his left sleeve, longer than his dagger, twitched around the eyes.

'Fast.'

He etched the trait firmly in memory, exhaling briefly.

He activated the mana circuits of his whole body. He simultaneously cast spells he had already computed long beforehand.

A triple casting, combining 5th-tier and 6th-tier imbue magics.

It reinforced his physical abilities, and bolstered physical resistance—especially against slashes.

Then, with the 6th-tier imbue magic , he strengthened all of his imbue magics by one step further.

Even if he had prepared since the moment he lit his smoke, the casting speed was astounding.

This was not talent, but the fruit of repeated effort.

Grave readied his stance.

"Best abandon the thought that a Mage is weak in close combat."

"Don't lecture me. I know that better than you."

Adrian gathered his aura.

Their gazes crossed.

The former Fourth of the Central Continent and a former upper executive of Black Hour collided.

***

Though Black Hour's purpose was magical research, as their power grew, there were naturally times when force was needed.

And the one who had always stepped forward first was this man, Grave Rudworth.

'Still the same.'

Alderneys, grasping Grave's intent, felt a pang of nostalgia as he watched the clash unfold in an instant.

Sword aura and magic collided.

There was no killing intent, of course, but the exchange was sharp in every way.

'A swordsman wielding violet sword aura. That's not my field, so I don't know much, but….'

Alderneys subtly turned his head, glancing at two elderly Mages seated near Melard.

Without any attempt to hide, their identities were plain to see, and he identified them inwardly.

'No mistake.'

The former Warlord of the Arnak Empire, Osgar Fargon.

And the current master of the Ostea Magic Tower, Medrant Keden.

Though he had never seen them in person, he could be certain.

As a Mage who had lived in their era, Alderneys had always known of the renowned figures in the magical world.

Partly to read the flow of magic, partly as a personal hobby.

That was why he questioned.

'Why is Lady Melard together with a tower master and a Warlord?'

He speculated—perhaps, just as he himself had once received help from the Academy's principal, Melard too had gained support from them.

As far as he knew, there had never been any close ties between Black Hour, the Empire, and the magic towers.

'And beyond that—'

Alderneys quietly scanned the faces of those gathered.

Most were unknown to him, but four were different.

First, a man and woman who seemed like twins.

'Cain and Unia.'

The rumored figures who had recently, in the conflict zones of the Ownerless Land, defeated Melconi Blaud of Andranov's faction on Volcanic Island and even the Mercenary King.

Two Magi, nearly identical in appearance, traveling together—that was never common, so they were unmistakable.

And then, the woman with dark green hair.

'Hmm, a face I feel I've seen somewhere….'

He wasn't certain.

It was only a sense of déjà vu. That was all, for now.

Soon he shifted his gaze, fixing on the most important figure.

The man identified as Black Hour's new successor, his outward features.

'Could it be… Asher, the so-called Sacred One of the Eastern Continent?'

The King of Roafra.

The Dragonslayer.

The practical ruler of the north of the Ownerless Land.

In the magical world, Asher's name was renowned.

Walking the halls of the Academy, one could often hear his name on students' lips.

Sometimes, even requests were submitted to invite Asher as a one-day professor of elemental studies, to the headache of other professors.

A young and mighty Magus.

As always, the appearance of a genius Mage became the talk of the age.

'Unfathomable.'

Alderneys let out a silent sigh.

For what reason had such leading figures of the magical world gathered here?

Why did the original members, who knew Dahit's strength so well, insist that Black Hour could be recaptured?

When had the Sacred One of the East become Harkan's disciple?

Alderneys lifted his head.

'Harkan, there is still so much I do not know.'

No matter the questions, he had always answered gladly. And when they both didn't know, he would ponder together. At times, he would gaze at the stars and read destiny for him.

The past would not return.

The emptiness left by Harkan, the lantern in the darkness, suddenly pierced through.

***

Adrian's sword.

Grave's dagger and shortsword.

Adrian's swordplay was so swift it was hard to follow with the eye, but Grave countered with the dual blades, creating countless variables and unpredictable movements.

Cha-cha-chang───!

Three blades clashed in succession. Sparks leapt in between, the sight like three people dueling at once.

And yet, the gap was clear.

Tch.

A sharp aura grazed his robe.

His focus split, the presence before him suddenly appeared behind.

Without turning his head by instinct, Grave blocked with the shortsword in his left hand, covering his back, but the follow-up was another matter.

Thud!

Adrian seized the back of his neck with one hand, driving his knee into Grave's left side.

Grave endured with resistance, slashing downward with his dagger, only for Adrian to twist the force against him, hurling his body outright.

Hwoosh!

Adrian then matched his speed in midair, bringing his sword down vertically.

The crushing sword pressure bore down.

Grave crossed his reverse-gripped blades, blocking, while broke his fall, widening the distance in an instant.

"Barring transcendents, your speed is more overwhelming than anyone I've seen."

"You, for a former upper executive of Black Hour, aren't that impressive."

"Age slows the blood, as it will."

Grave Rudworth gripped his blades tighter, shifting his aura.

Arcane