Chapter 210 – To the Capital (1)
Vast and rugged mountain ranges surrounded the area.
At their cold and towering peaks, the Eternal Cliff roared in silence, a place where even gazing downward made time itself feel distant.
It was a place worthy of legend.
There, the pinnacles of factions that influenced the world stood in opposition. It had been decades since these two Transcendents last faced one another.
No warm greetings were needed.
Turning his attention away from Rovellin, Dahit soared.
He halted precisely at the altitude where Balrog remained, and the moment he looked ahead, their gazes crossed — beyond mere perception.
"I thought you'd be too busy repairing the damage to your magic tower, yet you appear here. Was the seat of the Bohemirn tower master really so light?"
"Heavier than yours, who has been forced to step forward yourself in your disadvantage. To think your great idea was to use a branch head as bait, to weaken the strength of my magic tower. Truly, it is shameful to call you a fellow Transcendent."
"Ha, borrowing the strength of other towers and still putting on airs. And as for bait — you did the same, did you not?"
Rovellin was a flame mage with great promise.
A talent worth investing in, for the magic tower.
But Dahit's death was more than that.
A battle between Transcendents could be decided in a single move.
Rovellin and her execution squad were fine bait.
If that could land a blow against Dahit, then it was a fitting sacrifice. Of course, being discovered mid-course ruined it all, but that was Balrog's judgment.
Naturally, Rovellin was unaware of this.
Dahit chuckled.
"By the way, you look well, unexpectedly so. I heard your power source ran wild, that you and those 'unofficial' experimenters were even blasted into part of your treasure vault. They say your fifth collection was entirely obliterated, was it not?"
The tower master's fifth collection, the Second Circuit.
An artificial artifact that allowed its bearer to overcome the limit of their tier. Though it was capped at the sixth tier, its value alone was immeasurable.
It was even one of the symbols of the Bohemirn magic tower.
"...You speak as if a third party were the culprit. What, do you wish to beg forgiveness at this late hour?"
"I already conveyed that I am not the culprit."
"Even when evidence surfaced regarding the spy you sent, you still deny it?"
"If there were a way to collapse a magic tower's power source with a spy, I would long since have destroyed the other towers myself. So no, a spy is no proof. In my view, the likeliest possibility is this."
His voice sank deep.
"The collapse of the power source was solely due to your own negligence. But since you cannot bear the full brunt of that damage, you named my Black Hour as the culprit, to shift responsibility away. What do you say of my hypothesis?"
"You should know when to stop writing fiction. It seems even your Black Hour has reached the end of its rope."
...Was it truly a lie?
Perhaps both were telling the truth. Perhaps there was a deeper, darker undercurrent, one that even Transcendents failed to perceive.
But here and now, it was meaningless.
Dahit and Balrog were enemies.
They had been so in the past, and remained so now. Seeking truth at this stage was of no use. The gears had long since ground against each other.
Whatever the case, one of them had to die for it to end.
Further words were pointless.
"How exciting. I wonder what last words the 'Usurper', who even slaughtered his own masters, will leave upon his death."
"Last words? Better that, than a 'half-wit' who cannot cast proper magic without a magic circle."
Usurper, and half-wit.
Words that had pierced through both their lives in a straight line.
A faint laugh, and then their expressions vanished.
At that instant, the mana of Transcendents collided.
Ku-gu-gu-gu...!
From the mere release of mana, the Eternal Cliff quaked. An oppressive weight that choked the breath consumed the space.
Caught in its wake, one would die.
Sensing death, Rovellin shouted.
"Everyone, leap down the cliff! If you don't wish to die, escape this place however you can!"
"Y-Yes!"
At her command, the execution squad rushed toward the edge.
So too did the branch head of Black Hour. This was not the time to wage a magic duel.
Rovellin looked to the sky.
Two Transcendents faced each other above, warping the very air. Clenching her fists so tightly her nails dug in, drops of blood welled.
'...Verden.'
The foe who stole his life was before her eyes, yet she could do nothing. Having not yet fully bloomed, Rovellin could not even dream of standing beside a Transcendent.
Helplessness wrapped her whole body.
'But one day....'
It would be different.
Though lacking now, someday she would at least reach the tips of their feet.
Rovellin had to believe so.
Without the flame of vengeance, she would wither away entirely.
...
Was it atonement, for her dead friend and family?
Or mere self-justification, to drag out a pitiful life?
She did not know.
It was far too late to distinguish the two.
There was no one left to share these feelings with.
For Verden was already dead. That was the only truth.
Biting her lips until they bled, Rovellin invoked flight and hurled herself from the cliff.
At that moment, Balrog Bessias raised his staff high.
Along with various collections, the way of magic opened. Three vast magic circles rose, illuminating the dark sky.
Balrog spoke.
"Let's not end this too blandly, struggle with all your might, Wethroel."
"That is my line, Bessias."
Hwa-ru-ru-ruk.
Dahit's body was engulfed in black flame.
Between the two who had revealed the fullness of the way of magic, silence fell. It shattered in an instant.
At the edge of tiers, the extreme.
To surpass that extremity was a privilege only Transcendent mages could seize.
A single one could erase a city. Now, such magic appeared here.
Super-tier magic.
────!
A pillar of descending light.
A flame of jet rising skyward.
The backlash of destruction devoured all around them as they collided.
***
[The conflict between Transcendents has not ended]
[The Eternal Cliff, erased from the map]
[Bohemirn Magic Tower and Black Hour, Cause of the Dispute?]
"..."
Verden silently read through the imperial newspaper.
Not missing a single letter, he engraved every detail in memory, grasping the situation, then folded the paper neatly and fell into thought.
'Rovellin....'
He was slightly surprised when her name was mentioned.
To think she had become the fourth disciple of the tower master. Like Verden, she had been passionate about learning magic, yet detached from authority.
'So she must have found a reason.'
At any rate, it was fortunate she had survived.
'Still, it is unexpected that the collapse of the magic tower's power source remains unknown.'
Of course, those who ought to know, knew.
Verden was speaking of the common populace.
If word spread that the indestructible, perfect mana structure known as the power source had run wild, the aftermath would be immense. That much was obvious. Even so, the level of information control was considerable.
'The combined effort of the towers and nations, no doubt.'
It was to prepare for the chaos that would ensue.
But hiding it could only go so far.
With two Transcendents clashing, the sensational scale of the event would soon force the truth into the open. Delaying it was all they could manage, a foregone inevitability.
There was another point Verden noted.
'The duel between the Transcendents ended without a victor.'
The Bohemirn tower master, Balrog Bessias.
Leader of Black Hour, Dahit Wethroel.
In conclusion, it was a draw.
At the end of the article it was written that reinforcements from both the Black Hour and the magic tower had arrived, causing the battle to fizzle out.
Verden could not help but feel relief.
'Neither can concede.'
Balrog Bessias was his target of vengeance.
It was Verden's burden alone, to trample his life and everything he was.
And Dahit Wethroel was little different.
'Harkan Dazest.'
The very first member to found Black Hour.
The one who had passed on sacred star magic to Verden had, upon dying, begged him.
To please stop Black Hour, for the sake of the world.
The compensation for that request had already been received. There was no obligation to honor it, yet Verden had no thought of breaking his promise to Harkan.
'...The future.'
His promise to Harkan.
His reunion with Rovellin.
His vengeance.
The future to come.
Someday, it would become reality.
Though, for now, it remained far off.
For he still wandered, unable to surpass the wall of the way of magic.
But he would overcome it, somehow.
Even if he had to discard vengeance to grasp the way of magic, it would be the same. Through Defying the Heavens he would twist fate once more, and achieve both the way of magic and revenge.
Verden held conviction in his heart.
That the moment was not far, when he would finally become a Transcendent, and reveal his true name, Verden, to the world.
'...Though what awaits at the end, I cannot say.'
It did not matter.
He would simply keep moving forward.
Yes, that was all.
***
Hwoong, hwoong.
Verden lightly swung the staff he had temporarily acquired.
A weapon built for durability, designed to enhance the power of elemental magic. Though lighter than the Oculus, he was quickly adapting.
He planted his feet, lending weight to his stance.
The key was the mana and magic focused into the staff. Whether thrust or strike, if it landed, it would deliver meaningful impact. The same went for defense.
As time passed, his movements grew smoother.
The unfamiliar weight soon rooted itself into his senses.
'This should do.'
Practice, for now, was finished.
As Verden exhaled, Karans asked.
"Are you ready, brother?"
"Yes."
Verden assumed his stance.
In response, Karans gripped two daggers, while the spirit of the forest flickered beside him.
This was Sloan Forest, near Asern.
In the middle of its secluded depths, they had cleared a wide open space through
Since Verden himself had implemented it, there was little chance of discovery, so long as they did not stray outside.
There was only one reason to prepare such a stage.
A sparring match.
'Karans's combat style is no different from that of a magic swordsman.'
Freely using spirit magic with summoned spirits, while his close combat ability was swift and deadly. He had even endured spells, and pierced a court mage's heart in a single strike.
In some ways, it was similar to Verden's own style.
In other words, he was an excellent training partner.
'To leave a Guardian Elf's skill unused would be a waste.'
A boundless fight with a strong opponent. Such opportunities were rare.
If it went as Verden envisioned, his techniques and movements in battle would grow in leaps and bounds.
He had no thought of making this into a contract or request.
Though he carried a 2.5 billion Elk loan from Dyna Bank, thanks to Calia, no interest had accrued yet. There was no urgent need to earn money.
'Money is only a means, after all.'
The sparring with Karans was a means closer to his true goal.
The priority was clear.
As he imbued his body with strengthening magic, Verden spoke.
"Karans, if you win this match, I'll take you to a top-class restaurant."
"A top-class restaurant...."
"A place full of expensive, delicious food."
Karans had a fine appetite.
Not just in quantity, but in refinement, he favored meals worthy of a gourmand. Verden had long since understood that trait.
Thus the bait he cast.
And immediately, the line tugged.
"I shall fight in earnest, brother."
Karans's aura shifted entirely.
His body strengthened with mana, the daggers in his hands exuded killing intent.
'Now the motivation is enough.'
It was time to begin.
Verden and Karans.
They kicked off the ground at the same instant, charging toward one another.
As though facing an enemy, they held nothing back.
Twin daggers carved crossing arcs, while a single staff swept down from above.
────Jjeo-oong!
The metallic clash burst forth at the heart of the magic circle.
Thus began the sparring of mage and elf.
***
...Meanwhile, at the Ministry of Magic of the Kingdom of Estiria, news no one had foreseen was spreading.