Chapter 509 - Recent Affairs (1)
Originally, in the chamber that managed the power source of the Bohemirn Magic Tower, three Mages of the 3rd tier or higher were supposed to form a team and remain stationed.
It was a meaningless duty.
After all, what could possibly happen to a complete power source that not even a Transcendent could tamper with?
In truth, the power source duty was nothing more than a small cog that maintained the security of the tower.
Since everyone knew this, it became routine to tacitly ignore some of the principles.
One might casually step away for a while, or send an attendant to run errands here and there… well, in the first case, if discovered by a foul-tempered senior Mage, one would surely be scolded, but it was not something that would lead to official punishment.
A natural complacency.
Because no major incident had ever occurred from bending the rules of the power source chamber duty, the Mages of the Bohemirn Magic Tower all regarded it as a matter of course.
Horace Pulan, who had spent years inside the Bohemirn Magic Tower as a spy of Black Hour and had grown accustomed to their customs, was no exception.
"Two years ago, on the very day the Magic Festival began, it is said that you, despite being the leader of the duty team in the power source chamber, left your post."
Upon the high seat engraved with the current emblem of Black Hour—a downward triangle, the symbol of instability, with a sinister eye within—sat Dahit Wethroel, who glared with a murderous gaze.
"And, as luck would have it, that was precisely when an unprecedented incident occurred, a rampage of the power source itself. Truly a coincidence, is it not?"
Boom!
Horace slammed his forehead onto the floor.
Blood splattered and his skull throbbed, but he endured and forced out his voice.
"M, misunderstanding…! I swear…! On my very life I swear, I had nothing to do with it!!"
The reason Horace had left his post in the chamber that day was to transfer the information he had gathered within the Bohemirn Magic Tower to a safehouse.
Days like the Magic Festival, when one could move about freely without suspicion from the tower, were rare.
He had acted the same way during the previous Magic Festival.
Only, this time he had the misfortune of being assigned duty in the chamber, and thereafter had hardly any free time throughout the entire festival.
Thus he had his own rational reasons for not attending the chamber like the others.
But the world is unjust.
───…Huh?
As Horace was returning to the Bohemirn Magic Tower, he heard the tragic news.
That the power source had run amok from outside, devastating the Bohemirn Magic Tower, and that Balrog had been utterly enraged.
Without looking back, Horace hurriedly cleaned out his safehouse and fled.
He instinctively judged that, no matter how events unfolded, he could not possibly escape responsibility as the one on duty in the chamber.
It was instinct.
Horace was certain he could never withstand the interrogation of an enraged Transcendent.
"At first, I went into hiding… then, once things quieted down, I planned to contact Black Hour again, but, then the war broke out, and…"
The Bohemirn Magic Tower investigated Horace's tracks and uncovered his ties to Black Hour.
Because of that, two Transcendent factions of the Western Continent clashed.
It was hopeless.
If he returned to Black Hour under such circumstances, he might be branded as the cause of the war and executed… Horace did not want to die.
So he desperately fled.
He knew that, because of [Black Hour's Compass], his mana stone containing his mana was kept in the Great Hall to track spies and prevent betrayal, so he also took precautions.
He moved as far as possible, never lingering in one place, always on the run.
Thanks to that, he managed to avoid capture for over two years.
But in the end, as the war dragged on and Black Hour regained stability, they began deploying even their lower executives to conduct wide-scale searches, and it became impossible to remain hidden.
"Please, forgive me…!"
Horace once more smashed his forehead to the floor and begged desperately.
Dahit, looking down at him, spoke.
"I already know you are not involved."
"…What?"
"You, a mere worm, could never interfere with the completeness of the power source."
There was no doubt in that statement.
Nor did he judge that Horace was hiding something regarding the power source.
There was no longer any reason to.
But.
That did not mean Horace's existence was worthless.
Crunch.
Without warning, Dahit seized Horace's head.
"What I want now is not your worthless excuses. It is everything in your head about the Bohemirn Magic Tower."
As a spy, Horace's identity was that of a 'normal' 3rd-tier upper Mage of the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
It was not a position capable of breaching the tower's deepest security, so despite his efforts, he had not obtained any truly critical secrets.
At best, he only suspected that the Bohemirn Magic Tower was hiding something on the middle floors and above.
Horace trembled violently.
"I, I do not know what Lord Amwol wishes to hear, but I, I can tell you everything!! So please…!"
"Memory, in the act of recall, is always mixed with subjectivity and distortion."
Should he spare Horace to obtain uncertain fragments of information, or kill Horace to extract objective truths?
What decided it was 'efficiency'.
"I shall see for myself."
Originally, the magic of transferring one's memory to another had been reworked by Dahit's research into a spell that ripped memories out of others.
"Please… aaaaaaaaahhh!!!"
As though his soul itself were being torn away, Horace convulsed and shrieked madly. His exterior remained unchanged, but his brain was slowly turning to mush.
Dahit did not bother to erase the pain.
Even if he had no intent, it was ultimately Horace's negligence that had birthed an irreparable misunderstanding and inflicted damage.
The sin he bore was failing to erase all traces of Black Hour, including himself, and thereby failing to conceal information from the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Dahit closed his eyes.
'Now, let's see.'
He focused his mind.
He recalled the unidentified Transcendent who had infiltrated the Great Hall, inflicted great harm upon him, and stolen the [Hourglass of Perpetuity].
That one was the true culprit, the one who had rampaged the infinite power source and carried that power within their body.
'Since it happened precisely when Balrog Bessias, that half-wit, and the tower's strongest forces had left the Magic Tower… it must be someone deeply familiar with the tower's inner workings.'
Perhaps within Horace's memories, he might find a clue.
Whoooosh.
The torrent of memories, accumulated over years by the spy embedded within the Bohemirn Magic Tower, became vivid and flowed into Dahit.
***
The Western Continent's allied magic towers' massive assault ended in success.
Black Hour's strongholds were utterly destroyed, several lower executives were badly wounded or killed, and they abandoned the front lines.
It seemed they believed they had no chance of victory, for Dahit, apart from the very first engagement, never once appeared on the battlefield.
A flawless victory.
The towers eagerly raised their cups in celebration, spreading the news of triumph across the continent as a means to exalt their prestige.
Yet the Bohemirn Magic Tower, at the center of the alliance, remained comparatively quiet. Despite the value they placed on reputation.
Especially those of the Elder Council, who returned immediately once the operation ended.
The reason was simple.
They were exceedingly busy internally.
"As expected of a dragon's byproduct."
Tower master of the Bohemirn Magic Tower, Balrog Bessias, gazed with deep interest at the dragon's ribcage, which was under intense study by the elders and the 'unofficial Mages'.
According to current analysis… though it was not a dragon's skull, its potential was nonetheless boundless.
It was the first time even Balrog had obtained material from a Transcendent species untouched by any hand, so he found it difficult to tear his attention away day after day.
'If we build upon that, we may be able to create an artificial artifact surpassing the [Second Circuit].'
A feat that would elevate the tower's prestige.
As Balrog mused with a faint smile, someone approached.
"You are here, Master."
Crodon Olentia.
First disciple of the Bohemirn tower master, and the heir to the seat of tower master.
Balrog asked.
"How far has the restoration progressed?"
"Over eight parts, nearly nine parts have been restored."
What had been destroyed in the past rampage of the power source was not only treasures like the [Second Circuit].
A vast amount of data, including unofficial experiments, had been completely lost. To the Magic Tower, those were as precious as life itself.
"In roughly three months, most of the data should be restored. As the one responsible, make sure nothing is overlooked."
"I will bear that in mind."
"And what of those so-called 'corpse thieves'? No strange signs?"
"No, trade has been smooth so far."
Last year, during the clash with Black Hour, a mysterious group called 'Gluttony', who had been stealing the corpses of fallen Mages, had secretly approached the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Balrog had engaged in a deep and curious conversation with Beldoran, the third fang of Gluttony, and as a result, a special deal had been struck.
The Bohemirn Magic Tower would secretly hand over the corpses of high-ranking Mages fallen in war.
In return, Gluttony would sequentially pass on their techniques.
It was a form of trade.
"They must have come from somewhere extraordinary, their level of technology was astounding. Thanks to that, we can now begin experiments that had until now only remained as concepts."
"Indeed, their human experimentation techniques are on a different level from what we have built. Especially in the field of transplantation."
Balrog recalled the modified humans that Gluttony had shown them, grotesque beings stitched together regardless of race.
"As hideous as they looked, one could not help but admit their effectiveness."
In any case.
"We still do not know Gluttony's true intent, but since the trade benefits the Bohemirn Magic Tower, we shall make thorough use of it as planned. Always be prepared to dominate them with the coercion circle, Coercion, should the need arise."
"Yes."
Crodon nodded.
"But… has Rayshen still not found Isabella?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I simply wonder if it has not taken too long."
On Balrog's orders, Rayshen had gone to the Central Continent, but after the auction hosted by a Transcendent in a great city, all went silent.
It had been months since he last sent word.
The silence was long enough to make one wonder if something had happened.
But Balrog did not care in the slightest.
"Though it is vexing that he has not yet brought Isabella, let him enjoy his freedom for a while. He has earned that right."
According to Rovellin, the fourth disciple, Rayshen Tailroad himself had played a decisive role in acquiring the dragon's rib.
Having achieved such a feat, his whimsical behavior was something Balrog could tolerate.
And more than anything, what made Balrog certain of Rayshen's safety was the short staff that tracked those engraved with the coercion circle.
Shhh.
Balrog drew forth the short staff, and not only Rayshen but his escorts too were shown constantly moving.
Naturally, not one of them had died.
"He seems to be busily on the move, so when the time comes, he will return on his own."
There was no room for doubt.
Balrog had absolute faith in the magic circles he had created.
"…I will wait, Master."
Crodon clicked his tongue and agreed.
Still bowing, he withdrew and walked down the corridors of the tower, bereft of its power source.
"It seems our reunion will be delayed."
He gently closed his eyes, and recalled words he had spoken in the past.
───Someday, I'll help you fulfill your dream. Just as you once helped me.
The dream Isabella had spoken of was to study the heirloom of the Argyle family, materials from special specimens.
"I'll keep my promise, Isabella."
Even if Isabella were to refuse, even if she had become a monster after drinking the blood of that special specimen in the burning mansion that day.
With twisted memories and a twisted heart, Crodon resolved firmly.
If Isabella were to see Crodon now, she would say this.
This crazy bastard.
***
The power of Verden, who had overwhelmed the three Sages of the Society's highest strength, inspired and united everyone.
A Transcendent.
As one of the current pinnacles of the magical world, a being not unworthy of worship itself.
For those who walked the path of magic, it was a tremendous honor to stand beside such a figure.
Thus, the so-called persuasion hall was a place to prove itself as an unshakable center, a centripetal force that connected different factions into one.
The goal had been achieved.
Verden, who had returned to the land without a master, met alone with Heras.
Not by design, but somehow Heras had become the bridge linking the Society and Verden.
Verden asked.
"Are the moles of Panian doing well?"
"As you commanded, they are being managed with special care."
The moles into whom the Coercion, once engraved on Rayshen's party, had been transplanted.
The fact that they were moving actively and still alive meant, from the perspective of the Bohemirn Magic Tower, that Rayshen was also alive and walking across the continent.
Perhaps in the distant future, but after just a few months, the chance of discovery was nearly zero.
Balrog Bessias did not even consider the possibility that his coercion circles might be broken or tampered with by another's hand.
The plan Verden had personally devised was completed by that arrogance.
"I will exercise utmost caution to ensure no accidents occur. So please do not worry. But what do you think of those six, sir?"
"In my judgment, they are not ones who would betray."
From the very moment the remnants of Black Hour had appeared, Verden had focused his insight, penetrating their inner hearts in detail.
Too much time had passed for them to simply be followers of the original members, and in the end, they were outsiders with no real ties to the Society.
Taking Melard's opinion into account, Verden was not the sort of man to trust and embrace them without any process if he thought there was any risk.
Heras let out a sigh of relief.
"…That is fortunate. Then may we share information with them?"
The information referred to was what the Society had grasped about Verden's forces.
"As we should."
Once Melard set the date, they would soon face Dahit again. The last preparations for the true stage remained.
In such a case, there was no reason to be wary of Grave, Alderneys, and the six new additions to their strength.
The minimum verification had already been completed.
And so the information was shared.
Most were astonished to learn that the swordsman Grave had fought was none other than Adrian Chambers, the Thousand Sword, once one of the Four Strong of the Central Continent.
On the other hand, the name Isabella Argyle stirred little reaction. They merely tilted their heads, asking who that was.
Naturally so, for unlike Adrian, she had no famed reputation in the past.
But, there was one exception.
"…Isabella?"
Alderneys, who had escaped Black Hour's pursuit and, at the principal's invitation, had served for many years as the Academy's alchemy professor.
He murmured the name of one who had once been a graduate of the Academy.
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