Chapter 571- Companion (2)
For the first time in her life, she felt the purest of pure magic power dwelling in those blue eyes.
It was as if both the transparent sea and the deep ocean beyond it were contained within, their depth impossible to measure.
Rovellin endlessly gazed at Verden, who was observing the bracelet.
So much had changed beyond all comparison with the past, and yet, that peculiar look in his eyes remained the same.
That stubbornness, unyielding no matter what anyone said.
…She liked that. Even now.
The reason young Rovellin had left the orphanage with Verden, despite having no real interest in magic, was largely emotional.
"You poured in every single kind of magic circle you could, didn't you."
At Verden's voice, Rovellin tilted her head forward slightly.
"Magic circles? When I checked before, there weren't any."
"It's nearly impossible to forcibly conceal the inner nature of a pre-existing magic item, but if someone planned it from the start during the making, even
Though it looked fine on the surface, if one observed closely enough, a faint, subtle sense of wrongness could be felt. But even knowing of its existence, unless one's magical perception matched the task, there was no way to discern it.
Rovellin was a Magus of lower 5th Rank.
She surpassed other mages of her tier, and was still young, but that was all relative. The world's standard was, after all, absolute.
Piercing through the magic circles Balrog had deliberately concealed was beyond her reach.
Rovellin swallowed.
"So then… what did you find?"
"If this artificial artifact had activated as they intended."
The grip of Verden's hand, holding her wrist, tightened slightly.
"Rovellin, you would have died."
***
The accessory bestowed by the Bohemirn tower master, [Flame of Protection].
Crafted solely for Rovellin, its magical effect was that upon activation, the fire tied directly to her emotions would be amplified severalfold.
The exact number was unknown, but likely, as Crodon had claimed, it would allow her to resist the Annihilation of the Dark Moon for at least a short time.
But.
Examining the structure of the magic circle sleeping within the bracelet, there was no trace of any protective purpose.
Undeniably, this was not a gift of the magic tower to safeguard the tower master's fourth disciple.
'On the contrary, it's an artifact predicated on Rovellin's sacrifice.'
The true name of the artificial artifact───[Final Flame].
The moment the trigger was pulled, it would instantly carve a Coercion-induced mental brainwashing into the wearer, while simultaneously inducing a temporary bias of thought, implanting a specific command into her mind.
That command was none other than the rampage of 'emotion'.
In short, it would force Rovellin's trait to fully awaken, pushing her to unleash power beyond her own capacity.
Normally, each realm had its limit, and casting spells beyond one's threshold was impossible. But, the era had changed. Thanks to Dahit Wethroel, who spread the dream across the continent, dream-touched mages could break through the rank limits.
'So this must be one of the enhancement experiments I saw in Elder Hiram's memories.'
Seeing Verden's expression, Rovellin steadied her breathing.
"If, if emotions rampage like that, what happens? Will my head suddenly explode or something?"
"No, but it is essentially tampering with your brain directly, so the strain will be considerable. The same with your mana circuits. Physical and mental collapse would be inevitable. The problem is what comes after."
The bracelet was not a single piece, but one of a pair, the other owned by none other than Balrog.
On the surface, the reason was to instantly reach Rovellin should the Dark Moon come for her, but in truth, it was the opposite.
The seven red jewels embedded in the bracelet… through intuitive insight, Verden saw thousands of bubbles within, connected together to complete a single formula.
Balrog's original creation, a unique space magic circle.
Judging by magical standards alone, its power was at the 7th Rank. And even among that, unparalleled.
"As you know, ordinary space circles transport a set target to a predetermined coordinate. So they're greatly influenced by the target's mana resistance. But this one is different. It twists space itself indiscriminately and hurls the target somewhere."
It was as if both spatial transference and spatial destruction occurred simultaneously.
If unaware and unprepared, one would inevitably be caught up. Even Verden, as he was now.
"Of course, it's not easy to cause such a magical phenomenon remotely with stability. A proper medium is required. For example, you, Rovellin."
"So you're saying… I'm like some human mana stone?"
"Just as mana can be transmuted into other forms of power, so can heat. They've already verified your ability. With this alone, the evidence is thin, so I can't explain every detail in theory, but other than that, there's no other plausible possibility."
In short, Balrog intended to use Rovellin as material to drag the head of Black Hour into spatial distortion.
'Naturally, he doesn't expect Dahit to die from that. The real aim is to lure him into the prepared stage.'
And in that sequence, Rovellin would reach one of two ends.
Either death from sudden mana depletion, or being torn apart by spatial distortion… the name [Final Flame] bore literal meaning.
Rovellin shuddered as she realized the purpose behind the repeated magical inspections before leaving the Bohemirn magic tower.
"But I don't understand one thing… why bother killing me? If it's a forced circle, they could just control me, right?"
"There must've been an issue they couldn't solve. Likely, because your trait is based on emotion, tampering with your mind wasn't simple. For one reason or another, they decided they couldn't use you as an internal member of the tower, and chose instead to use you up for the tower's sake."
"For the tower's sake, then, could it be."
"They say if a tower master's disciple dies honorably in war, it heavily influences the hierarchy of the tower."
A complete consumable.
Through Verden's memories, the true face of the Bohemirn magic tower was unbearably heavy and cruel.
Not only had she once belonged to such a group, but the fact that she had learned under those who had driven Verden into that state made Rovellin feel sick to her stomach.
Fwoooom.
At that moment, Verden pressed his left index and middle finger together, channeling mana to interfere with the bracelet.
[Final Flame] was a cluster of magic circles masked as an artificial artifact. As sophisticated as it was, severing it was simple.
At least, for Verden.
"If I remove it now, Balrog might notice, so I'll leave it in place. But the Coercion has been neutralized, so it won't be dangerous anymore."
"O, okay. Thanks."
She caressed the bracelet, which until moments ago had been nothing short of a self-destruct device.
When Verden rose to his feet, Rovellin followed suit.
"…You're leaving?"
"I must. It's too early to act with certainty, the preparations aren't complete. Until then, it's best you remain at the front lines. It's safest here… and I may need your help."
The bracelet still contained jewels imbued with the space circle.
It was directly tied to Balrog's trap, but also, conversely, the shortest route to confront him.
Verden had already thought of a way to both activate the circle normally and ensure Rovellin's safety.
Then, Rovellin spoke.
"But Verden, you want to kill the entire leadership of the Bohemirn tower, don't you? Every single one involved in that unofficial experiment."
"…Yes."
Even if there were justifiable reasons, it still meant committing no small number of killings.
Rovellin, who had only just learned of the ugly truth of the Bohemirn magic tower, would be very, very confused.
After all, she had just heard that the very people she had lived alongside until recently were to be eliminated.
Verden realized he had been lacking in consideration toward her.
But Rovellin was not so foolish as to feel pity for those people. She would simply redirect the vengeance she once bore toward the Dark Moon in the opposite direction.
"Then, you know."
Rovellin whispered.
"What if you took the Bohemirn magic tower for yourself?"
Rovellin was the fourth disciple, personally recognized by the tower master of Bohemirn before the magical world.
Though the last in order, regardless of her rank or age, she undeniably possessed the qualifications to become the next tower master.
But what if, aside from Rovellin, the rest of the successors all met unfortunate deaths?
***
"…Still not coming."
Quite some time had passed since breakfast had begun, and yet Rovellin did not arrive. But they could not go searching for her.
The last time they had tried, it had only worsened her mood.
After some discussion, Hezen and Arril decided to discreetly gather bread, meat, soup, and the like, setting it aside for her.
It might get cold, but reheating it was simple enough.
But it was wasted effort.
"…Why are you hoarding food?"
"Ah."
Rovellin walked past the flustered Hezen and Arril, sitting down at the table. Blinking, the two quickly took seats on either side of her.
"Are you feeling well today?"
"As you can see, I'm fine. So don't fuss, just eat. It won't taste good if it gets cold."
Rovellin deliberately took several spoonfuls of soup, laden with chunks, and soaked a piece of hard bread before biting into it.
She looked lively.
Hezen and Arril exchanged glances and shrugged. Whatever had happened, it was fortunate that their precious superior had regained her energy.
Rovellin quietly shifted her gaze.
'Hezen and Arril aren't internal members of the Bohemirn tower.'
She had already confirmed with Verden that the two had no involvement with the unofficial experiments.
She felt deep relief knowing that her closest subordinates, the ones she cherished, were not among those she would have to kill.
But the others were different.
The special guards Crodon had newly assigned to her… those tower mages were merely tools meant to lead Rovellin to her death.
"Ha-ha, may you enjoy your meal, Lady Rovellin."
"…"
A middle-aged mage with a gentle expression bowed politely as he passed. Her crimson eyes quietly followed him.
Crack.
Under the table, Rovellin clenched her fist tightly, solidifying her resolve.
'Those bastards hiding behind such false masks.'
She would burn them all to ashes. Without exception.
***
The gap in talent naturally led to the division of ranks.
Those of similar ability instinctively gathered in groups, while those with superior talent ruled over the inferior, as if it were only natural.
The law of the jungle, so often seen in barbaric nature, applied equally to the lofty magical world.
No one commanded it, yet each group envied, feared, belittled, and oppressed the others.
On rare occasions, an "outlier" appeared.
Beings born with unmatched genius, yet shackled by a lowly flaw—so-called incomplete individuals. Without a pack, they were surrounded entirely by enemies.
And if given the chance to trample a predator who might have otherwise been their superior—what prey would refuse such an opportunity?
In the end, talent distilled down to strength.
Thus, geniuses without strength were but weaklings, and to shed that weakness, they had to overcome their own defects.
Only true strength defined all.
This world was, after all, a war of hierarchy.
"Sandir Paen."
In the stillness, Balrog's eyes turned to the side.
"I heard you caused quite the commotion in Daunt, yet failed to secure Gluttony's third fang, Beldoran. On top of that, you lost not one, but two brainwashing test subjects. And still you call yourself a transcendent. I am close to regretting the effort I invested in you."
"Don't be too harsh. I had no choice. Who could have predicted a transcendent would be there?"
At that unexpected excuse, Balrog's eye twitched.
"A transcendent?"
"When I arrived in Daunt, others besides you were already after Gluttony. A magus with aberrant abilities, a swordsman who had reached the extreme… and a transcendent as well. I felt an inexplicable unease, so I chose to retreat rather than waste strength in battle. Isn't conserving unnecessary losses in line with what you wanted?"
"…"
Balrog fell silent.
A transcendent, among those who opposed Gluttony.
No one specific came to mind, which made it highly likely the individual was still unknown to the world.
He immediately reached a decision.
"For now, we'll suspend the pursuit of Gluttony's hosts."
It would be foolish to multiply their enemies before concluding Black Hour. It was the most rational choice.
Sandir tilted the spear resting on his shoulder.
"So I can stop playing adventurer. Good. What now?"
"We resume what was halted."
Balrog Bessias placed his hand on the edge of a massive rectangular construct before him.
As it responded to his mana, it began to activate, glowing with light.
"The main plan begins."
The blue radiance of magic lit the darkness.
A world map, encompassing the entire continent, unfolded in three-dimensional form.