Chapter 62 : Chapter 62
Chapter 62: The Great Magician (1)
The exile of the Black Tower happened 100 years ago.
The Black Tower had always been walking a thin line, but at that time, they crossed it far too many times. They committed an act that someone belonging to Basor should never have done.
The master of the Black Tower, who was of Basor blood, had his life spared, but most of the black magicians belonging to the Black Tower were executed. The majority of those who survived and were left behind did not follow the Black Tower and remained in the Black Land.
It was a natural course of events. For a black magician, the Black Land, overflowing with corpses, demonic beasts, and humans to study, was far more attractive than the North, which had nothing but snow, ice, and biting winds.
‘The Grand Duke of the North is managing the surroundings.’
It was an exile led by the Imperial family and approved by Basor.
The Northern rangers' patrol network surrounded the exiled Black Tower.
‘They probably didn't think the Black Tower would be up to something with Warp.’
They probably couldn't have even conceived of the means called Warp.
Because that was something like a symbol of Basor.
Simurtr squeezed his eyes shut to shake off the distracting thoughts. Now was not the time to think about the background.
There were no stairs. The advantage and characteristic of the Magic Tower, which allowed for instantaneous movement between floors, was now acting as a poison.
When he first reached the 1st floor, he had predicted the magicians' preemptive attack simply because they were within the range of his Sword Net.
‘That won't work on the 2nd floor.’
Activating the formula would bring him to the 2nd floor. It was the principle of space magic, meaning the space would change in an instant.
Even for Simurtr, who was sensitive to mana, there was no way of knowing what was prepared on the 2nd floor.
When he drew his sword, got into a stance ready to charge out at any moment, infused mana into the formula carved on the wall, and witnessed the scene on the 2nd floor.
“What the. You knew everything?”
Simurtr clicked his tongue.
Swarming with things that looked vaguely human, it was obvious that they had gathered every last bit of their forces.
***
From the basement to the 1st floor.
The reason the followers of Kua and the black magicians failed to notice the covert movements of Simurtr and Deban was purely due to their pathetic level, not because the concealment created by the Phantasmal Ability was perfect.
That was why he ascended to the 2nd floor without concealing himself.
Because he heard the higher-ups were on the upper floors.
It wouldn't work on them anyway, so he might as well save his mana.
Besides, a weapon like Phantasmal Ability was more advantageous the more it was hidden.
“How did you know?”
Simurtr instinctively scanned the structure of the 2nd floor. The grand training ground of Degrate he had seen not long ago. The area was similar in size to its central plaza.
While the plaza had various structures, this place was packed. It was filled to the brim with black magicians and the chimeras they controlled.
“This is the frigid land beyond the north of the Empire. With the rangers of that atrocious Grand Duke of the North locking down all sides, how could there be a vagrant?”
The voice came from quite a distance. Judging by the fact that he was answering on behalf of the others, he was the commander. Probably the Great Magician.
He was not visible. He was probably in the back. Which meant he had pushed his subordinates to the entrance.
“Was I the only one being serious?”
Simurtr let out a hollow laugh.
He thought he hadn't been discovered. Vagrant, that was what he had said into the crystal ball of the black magician he killed on the 1st floor.
They had known since then, preparing and waiting.
“But why were you here? Why didn't you come down right away? You said you knew.”
“How could I know what kind of being the intruder was? I had to prepare, did I not?”
“In the meantime, all your subordinates died, didn't they?”
“It was your doing.”
A magician is one who prepares.
Simurtr recalled the old adage of the Magic Tower.
The Great Magician did not show himself even as they spoke. His voice echoed throughout the floor. He was transmitting it with magic so his location could not be specified.
...If asked to pick the easiest opponents among all the magicians he had encountered in his life, Simurtr would unhesitatingly choose the closet magicians.
And the fact that the Black Tower remained here instead of leaving for the Black Land meant that they were typical closet magicians.
‘A meticulous bastard.’
The Great Magician, likely from a closet background, knew such weaknesses. That was why he abandoned the lower floors and chose to buy time to prepare.
He was a timid fellow. He didn't know when he became a Great Magician, but having reached such a state, he could have been drunk on that power.
Hiss.
The sound of air escaping was heard. From multiple places, something was leaking out simultaneously.
The wave of mana, the tingling skin, the familiar smell. Simurtr held his breath. Poison, the black magicians positioned among the chimeras were casting the same magic.
“You crazy bastard.”
The rotation of the 2nd Star. White mana coated Simurtr's body in a thin layer. It was a corrosive poison that melted skin and crushed muscles.
Meticulous and timid. Simurtr raised his evaluation by another level. Knowing there was only one intruder, he still did not let his guard down. He intended to carry out the plan he had originally prepared.
“They’re all going to die.”
“A late question.”
He could not welcome such a war of attrition.
He was outnumbered, and his mana was lacking. Vwoom. The sword hummed. The sword's cry shook the surrounding mana, and the thick poisonous fog was pushed back.
The space Simurtr occupied looked particularly white. It was because the black-tinted poison had been blown away.
Watching the poison fog roll in again, Simurtr took his stance. The mana that had coated his body flowed into his sword.
‘The poison first.’
White sword ki shot out like a gimlet.
Seven. Simurtr counted the number of black magicians whose foreheads were pierced before they could even react. Indeed, the sound of the corrosive poison leaking had weakened.
Nevertheless, the poison that had already been released was still thick enough to be called a fog. Seeing the poison reoccupy the cleared space, Simurtr coated his body with mana once more.
Should I jump in and induce a melee? The moment he thought that, something grabbed his ankle. Dozens of arms were grabbing and tangling with each other, binding Simurtr's feet.
“Damn it.”
Crack. They were pulled out like tree roots. Simurtr didn't stop and stretched his leg straight out. The tangled, hideous arms flew towards the lead chimera.
“Kraaah!”
The trigger for battle had been pulled. Starting with the cry of the lead chimera, all sorts of chimeras charged.
‘Chimeras researched with the Kua.’
The Kua, who sought to escape reincarnation, who wanted to live long. What kind of chimeras did such a Kua study?
It might have been different in the early stages, but by now the purpose would have changed. Stability, lifespan. They would be chimeras created to fit such purposes.
“Kaak!”
The chimeras closed the distance in an instant.
A melee. It was the situation he intended. But Simurtr furrowed his brow. The arms that had sprung up at some point now tried to grab his waist.
Tearing those arms apart with his right hand, Simurtr thrust his sword towards the ceiling.
Thrust. The sword lodged in the single neck of a chimera with three maws.
As expected. As predicted, the chimera's hide was soft. The muscles tore easily, and the bones weren't that hard either.
With no time to use the corpse, an angry chimera swung its claws from the front. It was the humanoid chimera whose arm had been hit at the forefront, clearly a failure of an experiment.
Simurtr swung his sword straight down.
Schwing. The sword lodged in the neck was freed as it split the middle head of the dead chimera in half. Without stopping, it flew on and decapitated the humanoid chimera.
‘Behind, left.’
The presence of the charging chimeras was clearly caught in his Sword Net. Without looking, Simurtr thrust his sword behind him. Thud. As the chimera screamed, he pulled the sword out and turned his body half a circle to the left.
And just as he was about to thrust the sword into the maw of the chimera at his solar plexus.
Clang. Suddenly, the strength drained from his body. Simurtr forcibly put strength into his knees, which had bent without him realizing. The process of straightening them was not smooth.
‘Curse.’
A new wave of mana in the Sword Net became chaotic.
Physical weakening, confusion of ki sense. Interference seeped into all his senses. Piiiiing. A ringing started in his ears. A sensation as if his whole body was possessed by something arose. Beyond his blurring vision, he could see something approaching with its maw wide open.
Should I use Phantasmal Ability? Simurtr shook his head internally. The enemy didn't know about Phantasmal Ability. That would surely be fatal at some point.
‘Number 1.’
4th Star. Four rotations.
The mana of the Star breaker, incomparable to before, spread from his entire body.
Tududuk. As the space suddenly vibrated, stone dust began to fall from the ceiling.
The first to react was the poison that had been hindering his breathing. The thick poison fog disappeared in an instant. As if pressed by something, it was firmly squashed to the ground.
Next, the foot he was stepping on sank. Centered on that footprint, the ground began to sink sequentially. The maw that had been open right in front of him snapped shut. The chimera, which had been joyful at the thought of eating Simurtr, was slammed into the floor.
The curse that had been in effect was annihilated by the immense pressure. Dozens of chimeras that had been charging towards him were simultaneously slammed into the ground.
‘10 meters.’
The Black Hemisphere that Aran had once shown.
Freedom was created. Except for Simurtr, everything within a 10-meter radius was embedded in the ground.
Compared to Aran, it was shabby, and the mana was severely lacking, so the white Black Hemisphere lasted only for a moment, but.
“First time seeing my face, isn't it?”
It was also the moment he had dealt with all the surrounding obstacles at once.
“……”
Witnessing the smugly smiling Great Magician's face instantly stiffen, Simurtr grinned brightly.
***
“We haven't met, have we?”
Simurtr said, looking forward. It was a face he didn't remember.
‘At most, forty.’
Since he was a Great Magician, his actual age would be about twice that. An age where one feared their natural lifespan, and had too little vigor to go to the Black Land.
A meticulous and timid person, he could see that he had set aside chimeras around him to use as shields.
‘And only the good ones.’
The quality was different. Simurtr thought as he looked at the chimeras. Just by looking, he could feel the strength in their hides.
They were likely not born from the Kua's experiments, but were produced by the Black Tower itself.
...But what was truly bothering him was something else. Inside his hidden sleeve, one of Pagna's lines had disappeared.
Two lines left. Simurtr, recognizing the mana filling his heart, focused on the being standing next to the Great Magician.
‘Death Knight.’
Pitch-black full-body armor that no human could wear, with no discernible seams or method of attachment. A helmet integrated with that armor, revealing only two eyes. A ghastly blue light.
For a moment, the hand holding the sword twitched. He almost swung it without thinking. His pride was hurt, but... Simurtr clearly felt a threat from the Death Knight.
“But you've locked away its ego, haven't you?”
That was the reason he could refrain from swinging his sword.
That Death Knight had the power to threaten the current Simurtr, but it had lost the ego to wield it.
“Your disciples too.”
The prized weapon of the Black Land. The reason they coveted excellent swordsmen and knights. Lifeless undead.
But the undead they handled were truly diverse. The reason black magicians welcomed disciples was that the disciples volunteered to be test subjects for the sake of learning. Or as forces in case of an emergency.
“Were your disciples that untrustworthy?”
A blue light in the eyes. That meant the ego was lost or sealed by its owner.
The Death Knight guarding the Great Magician's side, and the black magicians lined up in front, were all the same. All of them stared at Simurtr with that same ghastly blue light, with nothing but vacant pupils.
‘He trusts his own calculations more than his disciples' judgment, I suppose.’
The Great Magician lost his disciples and gained mass-produced liches. The poison and various curses that had been running rampant until now were manifested by the Great Magician through the undead that were once his disciples.
“This is why I can't stand you spell-slinging bastards.”
If it's the same weapon, they believe that controlling it with their own hands shows superior utility. That is the Magic Tower. Arrogant spell-slingers who are convinced that their own heads are the best.
“...You are young.”
The stiffened Great Magician opened his mouth.
Of course, it wasn't an answer to what Simurtr had said.
“Young, and a white Sword Master.”
He had allowed an intrusion, all the facilities needed for research were half-destroyed, and he had lost all the successful test subjects.
That was a fact the Great Magician, who hadn't confirmed it himself, could easily deduce the moment Simurtr appeared on the 2nd floor.
“You must be Simurtr Mectera.”
But the Great Magician, for some reason, looked pleased.
“They desire you.”
As if he had found an opportunity to make up for it.
***
Ruuuumble.
The Black Tower is not that sturdy. Deban thought, looking at the caved-in ceiling.
Due to the lack of personnel and poor conditions, they probably couldn't have made proper repairs. The Kua and the black magicians would be ignorant about construction or maintenance.
‘It looks like a Black Hemisphere.’
The shape of the collapsed ceiling. The radius. The scale was small, but it resembled the Black Hemisphere that the 4th Head of the Sword had once shown. Perhaps the Black Tower wasn't weak, but Simurtr was strong.
‘But the main family's secret techniques are taught after the coming-of-age ceremony.’
Perhaps the Great Magician was strong. Deban thought. He had to quickly get Beden and the children to a safe place and return.
He didn't know if he would be of help, but it was better than nothing.
“Ten! End of the line!”
Deban smiled warmly at the sight of the grown woman shouting cheerfully.
“Shall we go then?”
“Yes!”
The adults shouted in unison.
They might look like that, but inside, they were similar to Barote. It was because only their bodies had grown rapidly. Deban treated them as children.
“Let's hold hands.”
Beden, having heard Deban's explanation, was surprisingly calm. Children clung to his outstretched hand.
Compared to the previous situations, it was manageable.
The fact that his mother Janya was alive also played a big part.
“Let's just escape like this.”
“Escape?”
“It means let's go play. At the main castle... no, at our house, we call going out to play escaping.”
Deban took the lead, and Beden stood at the rear.
Thanks to gathering all the clothes in the facility, no children were feeling cold yet. Beden's hand passed through several children, for those who were lagging behind.
“Deban.”
“I'm listening, young master.”
“Kelken, my teacher.”
He's dead, right? Beden didn't ask until the end.
He was being considerate of the children who were listening. Even if they didn't know the meaning of the word, it wasn't a pleasant thing to hear.
“Yes.”
“My mother too.”
“……”
“It was an experiment, right? The reason I'm alive is because I'm from the Hero Family Mectera. And my mother is from Jabad. Right?”
“...Yes.”
Simurtr went up to the 2nd floor.
Beden grasped the truth. He understood Simurtr's intention. And then he faced reality.
“Let's go quickly. I'll drop them off, and then I'll go with you.”
Rather than venting something, he chose to do what he could now. He would evacuate the children and go help Simurtr with Deban.
“Young Master Beden, you cannot.”
“I won't be a hindrance.”
Something caught the eye of Deban as he turned around. Sword ki. The materialized mana was blooming from Beden's sword.
“I don't plan on blaming Simurtr either. If he hadn't done that, I would still be out of my mind.”
If you're not dead, it's not too late. Beden recalled Kelken's favorite phrase. Then what about his mother? She was dead.
On the other hand, he was alive. His mother was too late, but at least Beden himself was not too late. What was he not too late for? Beden thought about that.
‘Simurtr, and revenge.’
He had to repay his debt to Simurtr.
He had to give the apology he hadn't been able to give yet. If his mother was too late, then her remaining share belonged to her son.
It was the son's duty to soothe his mother's spirit. Killing the man called father was absolutely necessary....
“Halt.”
The voice came from quite a distance. But it had the power to forcibly stop one's body.
Thud. Beden bumped into the back of the child walking in front of him. His raised gaze saw the stopped children. No, they were frozen.
What about Deban? He had stopped and was looking up. Beden's gaze followed where Deban was looking.
“This is Serepes.”
Serepes.
The name of the disaster that had reigned over the North a thousand years ago.
The first Grand Duke of the North, after defeating that disaster, laid down the name of Melken. He established himself as the Grand Duke of the North.
The bloodline of the thousand-year Empire, Melken.
At least in the North, Serepes held power equal to the Imperial family.
“We are from Mectera's...”
“Do not state your identity.”
He cut off Deban's words. It was a ranger. Although a pure white robe covered his entire body, Beden was certain.
“Outsiders who have not used the castle gates are not permitted.”
Judging by the voice, an old ranger.
So, the one Simurtr mentioned.
“The successor of the Star-Breaking Style.”
Deban said immediately.
He didn't even let him request an identity check from the Information Bureau, not even letting him open his mouth.
“……”
“The successor of the Star-Breaking Style has a message for the Grand Duke of Serepes.”
It worked. The ranger's momentum, which seemed ready to attack at any moment, drastically decreased.
“Again.”
The ranger asked.
His voice sent a shiver down Deban's spine.
“The successor of the Star-Breaking Style is looking for the Grand Duke of Serepes.”
“Do you even know who you are talking about?”
He didn't.
Deban thought that person was Simurtr.
He had thought it might be the secret to his strength that didn't match his age. He was wrong. Was this right? His instincts warned him, but he couldn't take it back. Deban said again.
“I know the last will left for the Grand Duke by her former fiancé.”
As soon as he said it, Deban had a gut feeling.
Deban's personal guess was wrong, but Simurtr's intention had definitely gotten through.
“Who has insulted the deceased?”
And it got through all too well. Better than he had thought.
“Lead the way.”
Receiving the ranger's killing intent, Deban had no choice but to return to the Black Tower.