Chapter 569 – Memory Sharing
A magic tower without a power source is nothing more than a grand and aesthetic architectural structure, to put it a bit harshly, nothing more than an empty shell.
Overcoming such a quagmire rests solely on the leader's competence.
Because a magic circle can produce countless phenomena, it is omnipotent.
When Balrog Bessias first took office, the Bohemirn magic tower had ranked 7th in martial power and 7th overall, but he raised it to 2nd in martial power and 4th overall, proving his ability once again.
Currently, most of the Bohemirn magic tower's magical functions have been restored.
However, it was only natural that instead of the power source's infinite magic power, countless magic stones had to be purchased and consumed as fuel.
With the nine-year cycle in which the magic tower rankings are determined─── in other words, as of this year, a drop in rank is unavoidable.
Even so, there is a way to make up for it.
By disposing of Dahit Wethroel, the Usurper of Black Hour, the cause of all recent magical chaos.
A 'sacrifice' for the sake of the magic world, and a public deed that benefits the world beyond the magic world, are positive factors in the evaluation.
***
Using the mana elevator, Rovellin ascended to the upper floors of the magic tower, casting a quiet sidelong glance at the ground outside that had grown infinitely distant, as she walked the corridor.
Knock, knock.
She lightly knocked on one of the laboratories on the upper floor, as the High Elder had said. Then she gripped the straight door handle, turned it, and pushed.
The tower master was not there.
Instead, there was the one who represented his lofty authority.
"Hm, your face looks unwell in many ways. Spending your time trapped in the tower must have been unbearably boring, Rovellin."
A group's head, Crodon Olentia.
The Bohemirn tower master's first disciple, Rovellin's senior brother, and a Magus who carried the strong possibility of transcendence, making him the leading candidate for the next tower master.
Rovellin, without reacting to him, spoke in a tone neither high nor low.
"The tower master said he had something to give me, so I came."
"I know. But not teacher, but tower master? You haven't changed your form of address from then till now. If Teacher heard that, he would be saddened."
"Just get to the point, Olentia-nim."
The distance between Rovellin and Crodon was immeasurable, in age, in social position, in magical attainment.
But she was no longer bound by such outward things. If it had been in the past, perhaps, but at least now, it was not so.
All she cared about was Black Hour.
"Well, if that's what you want."
Crodon shrugged as if it were nothing, then moved, extending a hand toward Rovellin.
In that palm lay a rather refined bracelet, set with seven red gems the size of fingernails, deeply engraved with strange magical patterns overall.
"…What is this?"
"A gift from Teacher to you. Of course, this isn't all, there's a proposal related to it."
Handing over the prepared accessory, Crodon slowly circled around as he spoke.
"As you know, my precious disciples, and your respected senior brothers, Rayshen Tailroad and Lucard Maniacs, have gone missing. Naturally, the culprit is Black Hour. The elders of Itium are on constant alert. Among them, Elder Hiram and Elder Omar have lately been unable even to return to the tower."
"…"
"No matter the effort, if things go on like this, the tower's damage will only grow. Black Hour's Grand Hall cannot be observed from outside, and its internal coordinates change the moment they're perceived, so there's almost no way to invade. Even if one did succeed in entering, the inside would be crawling with enemies and traps."
Crodon clasped his hands behind his back.
"So the best course is only one. To draw out that fellow… the pinnacle of Black Hour, Amwol, into our domain."
"Wasn't it precisely because there was no way to do that, that we've not advanced until now?"
"Yes, it was. But now, the situation is different. Amwol has meddled not only with the tower, but with the entire magic world."
He halted and continued.
"Recently, at the transcender conference in which Teacher participated, the issue of sanctions against Amwol came up. The conclusion was a temporary postponement. In other words, the timing of sanctions would be decided after Amwol's dream reached a transcender."
Though Crodon himself had not yet dreamed of a breakthrough in realm, Rovellin, a 5th-rank Magus, had already dreamed that dream once.
"When the waiting ends, many transcenders of the magic world will move, and Amwol, by his nature, will resist to the end and die. But Teacher does not wish for such a situation. He wishes to personally execute him. That is what vengeance is, is it not?"
Revenge.
Rovellin's eyes twitched.
"Our Teacher is almost prepared to kill a transcender. All that remains is a way to lure Amwol into a trap."
"You mean a bait is needed, like last time."
Two years ago, on the Cliff of Eternity, Rovellin had faced Amwol and was on the verge of death, but survived thanks to the Bohemirn tower master's intervention.
To be precise, thanks to intentional neglect and intervention.
She did not resent it.
But neither was she grateful.
"Say it properly, Rovellin. It's different in concept from bait premised on sacrifice. Just like then, you won't die or be harmed. Even more so this time. For you, we've prepared no less than an artificial artifact."
"An artificial artifact…?"
"That bracelet is named [Flame of Protection], an artifact of the protection system that can be activated without an incantation, by the owner's will alone. The flames it produces, combined with your unique trait, give rise to a distinctive heat. In theory, that fire can even withstand Amwol's black flame, albeit temporarily. Because of its effect, reuse will be difficult."
And most important of all.
"It comes as a pair, linked with the opposite bracelet Teacher holds. Constantly. The moment you activate the artifact, no matter when or where, Teacher will immediately perceive it. Even if you are near a sealed state. If the Bohemirn tower master employs Mado, then no matter how far, he can arrive at your side almost instantly."
"…So that's why my magical abilities were re-examined. But is making the tower master face Amwol again the entire plan the tower devised? With just that…"
"As I said before, the situation is entirely different from last time. Amwol will be executed by Teacher, who is fully prepared. The crux is your decision. If you're afraid, you may stay in the tower. How could we force sacrifice upon someone who does not wish it?"
Though he asked with consideration, the answer was already fixed. Both of them, for their own reasons, were certain within.
"What will you do, Rovellin?"
"I'll accept."
Rovellin, gazing blankly at the bracelet, put it on her left wrist.
Flinch.
From inside the bracelet, sharp needles popped out, piercing her skin. An unbearably unpleasant, stinging yet blunt pain flared, then subsided.
Crodon added.
"Of course, a Black Hour executive other than Amwol may come to you. At your realm, you would not be able to withstand them. So to prepare for variables, we'll assign special escorts."
"Are you saying… you want me to lead another squad?"
"Yes. Still, I'll allow you to bring up to two people of your choice with you. It's lonely not knowing anyone, isn't it?"
The heir of the Bohemirn magic tower gave a gentle smile.
"Make your preparations, and at daybreak tomorrow go to the front line to join the main forces of the Western Continent's magic tower alliance. Then wait. Until Amwol comes for you. And watch. Watch how the one who overran the power source and killed your precious friend, dies."
Unlike Rayshen, notorious for his strict and prickly temper, Crodon was known among high-ranking figures as a man of character.
Yet somehow, he felt terribly insincere.
To Rovellin, he did.
It was nothing but a dirty feeling, meaningless and uninteresting. Shaking it off, she turned away without hesitation.
"Yes, I look forward to it."
With her red hair fluttering, Rovellin quickly departed.
"Whew."
Left alone, Crodon let out a deep breath. Then, with eyes gleaming with madness, he muttered again and again.
"Black Hour, Black Hour… if you attacked Rayshen, that means you have Isabella, whom he had secured."
Crackkk.
His teeth clenched sharply.
Annoyance surged.
A long-awaited reunion was right before him, yet unforeseen interference had come. By any means, he had to reclaim her.
Without fail.
The powerful means to do so now lay in Rovellin's hands.
The artificial artifact [Flame of Protection]─── no, [Final Flame].
That Rovellin was born with great talent, and was indeed competent, was acknowledged by all inside the Bohemirn magic tower.
But she was fit only as a hunting dog, not as a companion.
Rovellin's unique trait was based on emotion.
According to magical research, this was entirely at odds with the method of persistently engraving Coercion to actively utilize talent.
Her Thought-Bias made it even more so.
'Well, if only temporarily, it's different.'
Then how could the Bohemirn magic tower extract the maximum value from Rovellin, as a resource?
There was only one answer.
The 'noble sacrifice' of a high-ranking figure in war was advantageous to the tower's ranking.
Enhancement experiment─── emotion.
Rovellin would become the final flame, and martyr herself for the tower.
Through that, Black Hour, led by Amwol, would be thoroughly crushed by none other than Teacher, Balrog Bessias.
'And at last, I will be with Isabella.'
The promise to aid each other's dreams.
Even though he had killed Isabella's family, Crodon had not forgotten the vow of that day.
***
How Balrog Bessias had captured a former transcender who was defeated by Master and went into hiding, why he had made him into a brainwashed soldier under his command, what ultimate ideal he pursued as a transcender─── none of that had been grasped.
Nor what the Pioneer mentioned by Beldoran ultimately meant, nor what he planned to do by making me meet the leader of Gluttony.
Nor could I even guess at the identity of the fanatical old man seen in Enette's memory.
But what was clear was this, that apart from the first, the rest were not at all important right now.
I organized in my mind the scattered questions and purposes.
Revenge.
That was, in fact, the story now pressing right up to Verden's doorstep, and the stepping stone for moving forward toward the realization of that ideal.
Kagagagak.
He engraved into the floor, exactly as it had appeared in Enette's memory, the special spatial teleportation circle that linked to Balrog's private laboratory coordinates.
The first priority was interpretation.
'…He modified an existing spatial teleportation circle in his own way, nearly to its limits. Based on that, he intertwined other magic circles complexly. A form I've never seen before.'
A strange, complex, and unfamiliar framework of a magic circle, not contained within all the magical knowledge Verden had accumulated until now… nor even within that which he had inherited.
Perhaps, this was Balrog's true face. For no one had ever seen the power of that man when he fought with all his heart.
Whoooom.
Manipulating his mana, Verden perfectly mimicked only the form of the magic circle, then divided it into exactly 67 structures, separating them one by one.
Then he placed one in front of him, and attempted a precise analysis.
He had to be cautious.
This work had to be successfully completed, before he could truly enter into the 'Annihilation' plan… though before that, there was one more thing to do.
And, as he had roughly expected, the awaited news came several days later.
A message from Medrant Keden, tower master of Ostea, who was staying on the front lines as part of the alliance.
───Her location had been confirmed.
There was no need to say who 'she' referred to.
'The allied front, huh. That's fortunate.'
Of the many situations he had envisioned, this was the route with the easiest contact.
In other words, it also meant that the Bohemirn tower leadership was coldly calculating her life as something to be used.
Disgusting, and yet in a way, convenient. Their way of thinking remained unchanged.
"I'll be going."
Leaving the Grand Hall, Verden, cloaked in
***
The critical stronghold that received and directed all developments occurring on the front lines of war was constructed based on a natural formation.
Above, a long-range observatory, and below, installed buildings─── a wide area utilizing an entire cliff.
Its scale was similar to several ordinary strongholds combined into one.
And since most of the alliance's members were mages who had mastered
A fortress in every sense.
Even elders of other towers resided there, and sometimes even alliance-affiliated tower masters stayed, so the security was beyond reproach.
Unless permitted by one of the few high-ranking officials, entry was impossible.
"Lady Rovellin, you may use that place."
Among them, Rovellin, disciple of a transcender, held high status.
She was granted space at the cliff's middle section.
"Rest as you like. While we're here, there'll be no need for escorts."
"Ah, Lady Rovellin…"
Rovellin, having filled her stomach with a mere piece of bread, rose into the air above the stronghold.
Hezen and Arril… dispatched together with Rovellin, and who had once joined her in participating at Ignacia's Scales held in Gargant, now sighed as they watched their superior's retreating back.
"Whew, she's in a gloomy mood again today."
"…Yeah. What should we do."
Of late, Rovellin had been… how to put it. Until not long ago she had some vitality, but now she was listless in everything.
The two racked their brains for ways to lift her spirits, but unfortunately, they found none.
Crackle, crackle.
In one of the cliff's caves, a bonfire burned. Rovellin leaned against the wall, half-lying, gazing outside.
The sun fell, the sky dyed in twilight. Soon darkness would come. As it always did, as if nothing unusual.
"…"
For the sake of avenging a friend who had died unfairly, she had thrown her life onto the battlefield. She had done her best, in her way.
Raging like a madwoman, so much so that she gained the epithet 'The Pyre'.
But.
The flames she raised could never reach the lofty heavens. No matter how she strove, no matter how she struggled, no matter how she prayed again and again to God.
That was reality.
When she heard the news that Black Hour was on the move again, when she heard that the Bohemirn tower intended to exact revenge on Amwol, she had briefly been filled with fervor, but it quickly withered.
She was too exhausted now, to remain engulfed all day in negative emotions as before.
It was precisely because she had been so true to her emotions, that her magical achievements had come so fast, that she had pioneered Mado at such an early stage… but that was the limit.
Emotion is a consumable.
Without firewood, the flame will eventually die.
'Why did it come to this.'
It was a question she had repeated countless times.
When she first came to the Bohemirn tower, she had been happy. Even as a worker, she had no complaint with life.
What could fill this emptiness?
If Amwol, the cause of everything, were to die, would anything change, even a little?
She didn't know.
Even the rays of sunset tapping her eyes in the distance felt unbearably heavy.
Ssshh.
Her eyelids closed, and mentally drained to the core, Rovellin fell asleep. Time passed, and night deepened to its fullest.
The moon was hidden by clouds, but stars filled the sky.
"Mmm."
At that moment, Rovellin's consciousness surfaced, sensing a presence very close by.
Hezen, perhaps, or Arril.
She thought it was probably Arril, and naturally opened her eyes… only to see, right beside her, in front of the bonfire that had just devoured new firewood, someone sitting there, in her blurred vision.
"At the orphanage, there were quite a few kids who caused trouble nearly every day. Once, they claimed they knew how to light a bonfire, and while messing around, turned the backyard into a wreck, got scolded terribly by the director. We, just watching from afar, got scolded along with them."
"…?"
"Still, I'm sure among them, we gave the director the most headaches. Since we left the orphanage on our own, and boarded the carriage bound for the Bohemirn tower. I don't regret that choice."
A man's voice.
But not Hezen.
"Still, I do miss it, a little. Those thoughtless days of childhood."
Her focus aligned.
She saw things clearly.
Fwoosh.
As Rovellin activated her mana circuits and rose, the ash-gray haired man in a jet-black robe turned his head.
They recognized each other.
Directly.
"Uh…?"
Somehow, his features looked familiar, somehow his voice sounded familiar, and Rovellin, with a blank face, unconsciously parted her lips.
Without realizing it.
"Ver, den?"
"Your complexion isn't good."
The man, Verden, softly brushed aside Rovellin's disheveled bangs. Her red eyes were fully revealed.
"Sorry I'm late. It took me some time to get here."
A brief silence.
Rovellin's eyes, growing wider and wider, tilted slightly. Immediately, with murderous intent, fierce flames erupted all over her body.
"You…!!!"
An unbearable, sharp hatred and rage welled in her gaze, though she could not even put it into words.
For the Verden who had died long ago could not possibly be standing before her now. It had to be someone's trick. And the black gloves the man wore.
Those were, Amwol's weapon.
Why Dahit had taken on Verden's form, she did not know, nor did she care.
Whether it was certainty, or simply the wish to believe so.
Instinctively, she identified the opponent as Amwol, and was about to activate the artificial artifact bestowed upon her by the tower master.
Tap.
But before that, Verden's fingertip touched Rovellin's forehead.
"I know it's hard to believe. That's why I thought of how I could convey everything to you, and convince you."
Pure mana stirred.
"This is my answer."
Dahit Wethroel had always considered memory the foundation of existence. For that reason, Verden had abandoned the magic of stealing memories.
Forcing a magic circle like that was to trample magical dignity.
Instead, on the basis of that knowledge, he conceived a new magic related to memory.
Unlike the magic Dahit so often used, it was inefficient, utterly unfit for stealing hidden information the other concealed.
Of course.
Because its true purpose was far from information gathering. To speak only of its ultimate intent, it was rather the opposite.
It was not to see another's memory─── but to transmit one's own, ineffable memories, to the other.
Rovellin.
This magic, I created for you.