Chapter 64 : Chapter 64
Chapter 64: The Great Magician (3)
A rift.
A kind of passage connecting the dimension of the Doom Species and the continent.
He had never been to the dimension of the Doom Species, which the Magic Tower named the Void, but he had experienced the passage itself quite a few times.
An endless, single path. Those who experienced the rift all began their impressions that way.
It was so long, they said, that it felt like walking a path with no destination.
“There’s a rift? Still?”
Technology had advanced, and the detector had been miniaturized. But the basic principle was the same.
A blue light heralded the appearance of a rift.
A red light meant its remnants.
Simurtr took out Denin Korg's detector. It was intensely red. There was nothing inside the door. But, there had been.
‘They said the Void was sealed.’
This wasn't something only the Magic Tower had declared.
The Sage's Castle and the Ruo Holy See had also affirmed it. All the great masters of magic had declared it.
Even though the traces of the rift were found in the Black Tower, it meant that the Magic Tower was not hiding it.
‘Which means it's a fact I can trust.’
The countless rifts created by the Doom Species were classified into two types.
A passage to come from the Void to the continent.
A means of intercontinental travel for surprise attacks.
‘It must be somewhere on the continent.’
As long as the Void was sealed, the former possibility was nonexistent.
‘Who?’
A being that could open a rift still exists on the continent?
There weren't many Doom Species with that kind of authority in the first place. At least Count-level or higher. One had to be at that level to have the authority to create a rift.
‘A Count-level?’
Simurtr let out a hollow laugh without realizing it. They called it an era of peace. To think a Doom Species of that rank was brazenly existing on the continent.
‘Basor?’
The one that naturally came under suspicion was the Magic Tower.
The detestable Basor. The Magic Gate they devised, which became a symbol of victory and peace, was a modified version of the Doom Species' passage.
After the war ended.
When the countless rifts began to disappear one by one, the Empire and the Magic Tower were said to have rushed to modify those rifts before they vanished.
A kind of speed battle. The Empire achieved considerable success. Although they couldn't connect the entire continent, they at least succeeded in connecting the major strongholds.
‘And besides, this is the Black Tower.’
An exiled Magic Tower.
Could it really have no connection with Basor?
Of course, it does. He judged it so both from personal feelings and from the circumstances.
But such a natural deduction is refuted by Barote. A test subject of Basor. Barote was a being born by sacrificing the bloodline of Basor.
‘They experimented on their own bloodline?’
The Basor Simurtr remembered was not that kind of family. It was a house filled with pride for its family and bloodline.
They would readily use the resources of other Hero Families, but they would not touch their own.
“They are Doom Species bastards.”
They desire you. The Great Magician Gerehk Adre had said so. One of them would be his father. His father and the Doom Species.
Simurtr walked past the door. What had been hidden in the darkness slowly began to appear.
“There’s even an altar.”
As he approached, the lamps at the far left and right ends lit up. A low staircase. A small table placed on top of it. Simurtr climbed the illuminated stairs.
On the wall was a huge painting. The Kua, which judges reincarnation, is known in the form of a snake.
The holy order that denies that truth and studies life adopts as its symbol various creatures eating each other's tails.
…But what was painted on the wall was not the Kua.
It wasn't a repulsive circle composed of living creatures.
The woman in the mural held a scale in her left hand. In her right hand was a sword. All sorts of weapons sprouted from her forearm. A wolf's maw was one of them.
Simurtr did not know this. Judging by the altar, it was some cult's god, but as far as he knew, there was no god on the continent depicted in such a form.
But.
“Why is this here.”
The small table in front of the mural.
As if offered to a god, what was placed on that table, he knew. A black string, similar to Pagna, looking identical at first glance.
“...Pegna.”
Pagna's partner.
Created by a dragon, and gifted by a master to a disciple who had decided to join the war.
The bracelet, whose name was borrowed from the name of the flesh and blood of Pagna, the dragon and master's close friend.
“A keepsake.”
Simurtr recalled Medeoban's words.
The Imperial family and the Four Heroes. Just as Mectera had Pagna, they too had each
taken one of Exa's keepsakes.
“Basor. That crazy bastard.”
Pegna must have been the keepsake Basor chose.
An artifact created by a dragon would be a treasure more valuable than anything else to magicians.
The fact that such a keepsake was kept in the Black Tower was proof that the research on Pegna was finished. Or that it had failed.
“Experimenting on his own flesh and blood?”
And at the same time, proof that Barote was created according to Basor's will.
The Hero Family Basor had joined hands with the Doom Species, was involved with the Black Land, used the exiled Black Tower to absorb the Kua, which was a minor branch, and was continuing the atrocities the Kua had been committing....
“I was wondering what gave them the guts.”
Yes, with what confidence. He had wondered what a mere Black Tower and Kua could rely on to touch the Hero Families one by one.
But if it's the same Hero Family, the story changes. And on top of that, the Doom Species and the Black Land are involved together.
Simurtr, having approached the truth, let out a hollow laugh.
“Yes. This is it. This is Basor.”
He felt sorry for the sacrificed humans, but a smile formed on Simurtr's lips.
From the moment he realized he had been reincarnated, he had hoped the traitors would remain the same. He had hoped they wouldn't have a change of heart or repent.
He hoped they would remain trash, no, become even bigger trash. Honor, wealth. He hoped they would accumulate such things as much as they could. He hoped everything they built would become even greater than in the past.
“This makes them all the more worth killing.”
He would tear down everything they had built and turn it into filth. He would show them the filth he made before cutting off their heads. He would show them that the life they had lived in constant pursuit was in fact in vain.
…The laughter turns to self-reproach. His head cools down. The excited blood calms down in an instant.
“I was crazy.”
He could no longer follow his master, so how did he try to uphold the same belief? He had already decided to walk a different path from his past life.
He had an elixir but didn't drink it, and even though the goal of traitors was clearly alive, he was about to throw his life away.
“Not even for Basor. For a mere underling.”
When something that makes his mouth water more than any delicacy is waiting in the distance, how delicious could a mere Great Magician be?
He doesn't delay. Simurtr puts his hand into the air. Subspace. The hand that comes back out is holding an elixir.
And then, he drank it in one gulp.
***
“Hurry up and break it!”
Gerehk Adre stared at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes. Despite the Death Knight's repeated attacks, it did not break easily.
Fine cracks were gradually increasing, and it was only a matter of time before a hole was pierced, but that didn't register with Gerehk Adre. The remaining time felt like an eternity.
The Magic Tower was familiar with mana. The Magic Tower could not be damaged by a simple release of mana.
And Gerehk Adre, a black magician from a closet background, did not know magic powerful enough to break the walls of the Magic Tower.
“More, more.”
He could turn a considerable number of disciples into liches under his command, calculate on their behalf to manifest magic at the right time and place, and freely control and command the Death Knight under his dominion.
He could also engrave layers of defense magic on his robe that even sword aura could not penetrate, but his only means of attack that surpassed such sword aura was the Death Knight.
“As long as I catch him. As long as I do that, it'll be fine. Nothing changes.”
Gerehk Adre muttered incessantly.
The 3rd floor. If it weren't for an emergency situation like this, it was the top floor of the ruined Black Tower that he wouldn't dare to enter unless called, let alone break.
One of the most remote places on the continent.
The surveillance of the Serepes rangers, viewed from the opposite perspective, was like a castle wall. That was why the exiled Black Tower was chosen. They could enshrine the altar of the god that they served.
The appointment by the father, called the King of Immortality, and the Doom Species, which those who dreamed of the Black Land could not help but worship, was a heaven-sent opportunity for Gerehk Adre, who had been hiding in the remote wilderness out of fear of the Black Land.
Tududuk. The Death Knight finally achieved a significant result. When he pulled out the greatsword stuck in the ceiling, a gap appeared, allowing a glimpse of the other side.
Isn't this also a gift of choice? The Death Knight, personally given by his father, was an excessive treasure for Gerehk Adre, who had just become a Great Magician. It was proof that his decisions so far had not been wrong.
It wasn't too late. He could make up for it. No, he could do more than that. Gerehk Adre thought, looking at the widening cracks.
‘Simurtr Mectera.’
The white Sword Master. He just had to catch that guy. He was the one the Doom Species particularly wanted.
Compared to the achievement of capturing the white Sword Master, the damage the Black Tower received was as good as nothing.
He could get ahead of his colleagues who were investigating the guy and planning his abduction. With an achievement like this... perhaps he could even be chosen by the Doom Species, or even become the father's disciple.
“It's done.”
A proper hole was made. Looking at the faint light falling through, Gerehk Adre calmed his impatience.
Decades of research data blown away? As long as he catches that guy, everything will be solved. As long as he captures him. Yes, he must not kill him.
His assessment of the guy's mana output was already complete. He had figured out his full power and modified his defense magic accordingly.
His understanding of his personality was also complete. He was a proud one. If he dragged out the time to capture him safely, he was the type to attack even at the cost of his own life.
He had to suppress him quickly and overwhelmingly, with the Death Knight at the forefront.
Before the guy got any funny ideas again.
“You here?”
Gerehk Adre, who entered the 3rd floor using levitation magic, momentarily frowned.
Unlike when he saw him on the 2nd floor, Simurtr looked strangely calm.
“I cleaned up first. It was too disgusting to just look at.”
The mural of the god, which was so perfect it gave the illusion of a manifestation, was horribly ruined.
The place where the altar had been was flattened. The rolling stones were the only indication that something had been here.
“It's fine.”
Gerehk Adre said to himself.
Everything can be recovered. There was no way the 3rd floor of the Black Tower would be known to the outside world. As long as he caught that guy, everything would be over.
“Then that's a relief.”
His smile was serene. Gerehk Adre focused on Simurtr, who was acting that way. The tattered martial arts uniform. Through the gaps, his chest was perfectly fine. It had been caved in just a moment ago.
His complexion was the same. He had confirmed the internal injuries, and he had been clearly pale, but now he was fine. At least to the naked eye, no more injuries could be confirmed.
“You had a means of recovery. That's why you bought time.”
“That's part of it.”
Simurtr didn't deny it. Gerehk Adre's gaze went further down.
His exposed arms. The tattoo that had been 3 lines was now only 1 line.
“The tattoo on your right forearm. No, it wouldn't be a tattoo. It must be an artifact that recovers mana.”
“Oh.”
Simurtr's mouth formed a small 'o'.
He doesn't deny it this time either. What's with this confidence? Gerehk Adre's eyes narrowed further.
“Then what do you think this is?”
Simurtr held up his left hand. That forearm. Just like the right, a black band-shaped tattoo was engraved on his forearm.
Was there a tattoo on his left forearm?
Gerehk Adre wasn't sure. As far as he remembered, Simurtr's left arm had been clean.
“...It must be the same artifact.”
“You don't know, do you? You couldn't figure it out. What this is.”
Simurtr smiled brightly.
Indeed, the dragon race. The masters of magic.
Basor had failed to figure out the use of Pegna.
***
The dragon Pagna was his master's close friend. He resembled his master. Just as his master cherished his disciple, Pagna cherished his sister, Pegna.
Perhaps that was why.
The bracelet Pegna was more difficult to handle than Pagna.
‘It's a point five.’
‘Pardon?’
‘If this is for storage and reserve purposes, this is a point five.’
Simurtr recalled his master when he received Pegna along with Pagna and chuckled.
That must be why Basor failed in their research on Pegna. They might have figured out its significance, but they must have had a hard time applying it separately.
‘This is solely for you.’
‘Doesn't it also work for you, master?’
‘My beloved and foolish Exa. I gave it to you, so how can it be mine?’
‘It hurts.’
‘That's normal. So it's okay if you lose it. If it seems you'll lose one of your two arms, offer the left one.’
‘Master, I am left-handed.’
‘It means don't lose it. If you don't want this master to lose the arm he has left.’
He had experimented once. He gave Pagna and Pegna to his unit members and confirmed his master's words.
Pagna is easy. The fact that it was stored in Mectera might have been a stroke of luck.
Swordsmen don't pay much attention to other artifacts, unlike swords. The unit members were able to store spare mana through Pagna.
Whoosh!
Simurtr pulled his head back a hand's breadth. The Death Knight's greatsword swept past the corner of his eye. A calculated and expected gap. Thanks to the elixir, his body had regained its best condition.
The Death Knight's movements were controlled by Gerehk Adre. Simurtr saw his sneer.
‘As expected.’
The spell-slinger was clumsy. He didn't know swords, or swordsmen. He thought he had barely dodged the greatsword just now.
While he was waiting for the guy to come up to the 3rd floor after taking the elixir, he had already finished his check-up. His body felt fresh.
‘Three times.’
He could handle the rotation of the 4th Star again.
If he pushed himself, three times.
With the last line of Pagna, and adding the mana he had recovered as soon as it was blocked by the defense magic, three times would be narrowly possible.
The chimera.
It was not in sight. Gerehk Adre had come up amicably with just the Death Knight.
‘He's finished assessing me.’
What information had he given?
Habits? Quirks? No. Simurtr thought as he watched his sword bounce off the Death Knight's gauntlet. Regardless of the movement of his fingers or arm, it only reacts after he swings his sword.
The Phantom Sword of Mectera. Simurtr's sword bends at an unpredictable angle. Clang! It strikes the back of the Death Knight's knee.
Gerehk Adre, whom he saw out of the corner of his eye, just tilts his head. He's looking at it with wonder, as if watching a clown's trick.
‘It's not the sword. That bastard has no eye for it.’
Every time he swings his sword, Gerehk Adre only confirms the output contained in the sword.
The reason he just nodded his head despite not expecting the Phantom Sword was because he was confident that the output it contained would not be able to penetrate the Death Knight's armor.
‘It's not his field.’
It was safe to exclude anything related to the sword or the body.
Then it was mana. The element that a spell-slinger reacts to most sensitively. He had to focus on that.
3rd Star. He raised the output by one level. The sound of the armor being struck grew a layer louder. But the guy didn't care.
‘The maximum output I can produce.’
Gerehk Adre knows that.
Because he has already experienced the rotation of the 4th Star. And he probably thinks that that maximum output is not much of a threat.
‘He also knows the use of Pagna.’
Simurtr tore off a long piece of his martial arts uniform that was flapping below his waist. He covered his right forearm with the cloth and tied it tightly.
“You're struggling desperately.”
Still, Gerehk Adre's face was calm. He was treating him as a rat he had already caught.
Because he knew that this side's full power could not penetrate the defense magic he had prepared.
Clunk. For a moment, a brake is applied to all the muscles in his body. All his bones feel weak, as if they were cracked. A curse. Simurtr, who had just been digging into the Death Knight's chest, jumped back.
‘First.’
He doesn't dispel it. It's a curse that can barely be dispelled using the rotation of the 4th Star.
How should he proceed? There is only one chance. Despite his appearance, he is a Great Magician. He would immediately create a countermeasure for anything he has seen once.
‘He knows about Phantasmal Ability too.’
He would have grasped the phenomenon and color when it was manifested.
Perhaps he had gained the confidence to catch the illusion. It wasn't entirely impossible with a Great Magician's mana.
“Gurgle.”
The sound of phlegm rattling grew closer. Without dispelling the curse, he narrowly avoids the Death Knight's sword strike and slightly raises his sword to create a point of contact.
The demonic energy that had been swarming the greatsword flowed into Simurtr's sword. As he detached it, he made a large circle. Slow. A movement that did not use mana. A speed that Gerehk Adre would have more than enough time to react to.
“Haha.”
Gerehk Adre stared at it, finding it amusing. The demonic energy that had enveloped the Death Knight's entire body concentrated on its helmet.
‘He thinks his demonic energy is tricky.’
Gerehk Adre grins. The demonic energy that had been concentrated on the helmet in anticipation deflects the sword. Using that recoil, he rotates one more time in the opposite direction.
‘Now.’
Now, when the demonic energy is concentrated in one place.
The rotation ends at the same time as the thought. The 4th Star of the Star-Breaking Style instantly broke the curse that had been clinging to him.
A suddenly rising white sword aura draws a half-moon. It cleanly cut off one of the Death Knight's knees.
The Death Knight couldn't swallow its phlegm. As its right leg was cut off and it lost its balance, the white sword aura drew another line. It was swung towards the remaining left leg.
‘Block it.’
Gerehk Adre moved as Simurtr had thought. The left leg. The demonic energy that had been concentrated in the helmet flows down.
Fast, but rushed. He was flustered. Simurtr instinctively absorbed Pagna. The last line turns into mana and moves to his heart.
The sword that pierced the left knee turns into smoke. The reality of an illusion is proportional to the mana invested. An illusion manifested with the 4th Star of the Star-Breaking Style. Gerehk Adre was too late.
“Shallow.”
He realized the reality at the moment the phenomenon color of the Phantasmal Ability flashed. Behind. But Gerehk Adre turned around leisurely. It was when the white smoke had just completed Simurtr's form.
“Your struggle is long.”
Even as he looked at the sword aimed at the top of his head, Gerehk Adre did not lose his composure. He smiles leisurely as he looks at the deadly blade. All the defense formulas embroidered in all directions rise and become firm.
“The bull is…”
Facing that defense formula, Simurtr smiled brightly. The mana in his heart, filled with Pagna, completes its rotation.
The 3rd 4th Star. He ignores the pain that suddenly arises. It's a trivial thing. He swallows the lump of blood that stabs his throat. He looked at Gerehk Adre with bloodshot eyes. The guy was smiling too.
Proof that he had already grasped the output of the 4th Star.
“You died because of your own head.”
An error caused by his hatred of wasting mana and his blind faith in his own brain and calculations.
By accurately calculating the failed blow from before. By judging that attack as Simurtr's full power.
By modifying the embroidered defense magic formula to match it, in order not to waste mana.
“Because an idiot pretended to be a genius.”
The careless Great Magician.
He did not suspect the newly appeared Pegna on his left arm. He identified it as the same as Pagna, saying they looked identical.
Point five. Pegna. Unlike Pagna, an artifact created by the master and the dragon solely for the Star-Breaking Style.
The rotation of the 4th Star. The amplified mana flows through the left arm holding the sword. On the left arm, 4 lines of Pegna are drawn.
One line per star. Proof that the 4th Star is 4 lines. The point five the master mentioned was the next step from the current line.
‘Half a step.’
Unlike the independently structured lines of Pagna, the lines of Pegna resemble a spiral. The lines are connected.
An artifact for the Star-Breaking Style, containing its mysteries.
The mana of the Star breaker flows through the lines of Pegna. 4 lines, 4 rotations. In that rotation, the mana of the Star breaker is amplified by point five.
‘Simple rotation.’
The Exa of his past life interpreted his master's point five that way. The 4th Star created in the circuit connected to the heart undergoes rotation through Pegna.
Thus, he takes one step, no… half a step forward.
The white sword aura becomes a layer deeper. Gerehk Adre squeezed his eyes shut at the rising heat. It was as if he had made eye contact with the midday sun of summer through a telescope.
“What the…”
The defense magic, which was modified based on the assumption that Simurtr's 4th Star was his full power, collapses helplessly. What had been drawing curves like a pierced balloon shatters like glass.
Gerehk Adre couldn't finish his words. He lost his form. He couldn't even remain as a corpse and crumbled away. The mana, amplified through Pegna, escaped Simurtr's control.
To stop it would shatter his body. To retrieve the mana, his insides were already a mess of blood and organs. It was terrifying to accept something amplified through Pegna.
‘You were going to break it anyway, right?’
He felt sorry for Deban, but he had already asked for his understanding. And wasn't the floor already full of holes anyway?
He let his body ride in the direction he had thrust his sword.