Chapter 266 – Answer (1)
Verden, as the highest honored guest, enjoyed a leisure he had never known before.
From morning to evening, he shared meals with acquaintances, discussed magic with Edmon for an hour each day, and, as always, delved deep into how to handle his Mado and magic.
'He's become a noble, through and through.'
Only a few months ago, he had been Gray's mercenary.
The sole reason he could now enjoy such leisure was thanks to the realm of a Quasi-Transcendent.
A stage where no further gradual physical growth could be expected.
To reach the next step, the stature of Transcendence, only the condition of spiritual enlightenment remained. That had been the advice of the Demon King's incarnation, the Administrator.
'I still don't quite grasp what that enlightenment even is, though.'
Naturally, it was not something impatience could solve.
So long as he did not give up and kept moving forward as he did now, he believed that someday he would achieve it. After all, it had been less than two years since he accomplished Defying the Heavens, and already he had reached this point.
Even if one scoured the history of the world, such growth speed was unprecedented.
If another Mage heard of it, they would dismiss it as utter nonsense, nothing but lies. Even Verden himself felt astonished.
'But it isn't strange, not really.'
Verden's present self had not been shaped by a smooth life.
At just eight years old,he had become a worker of Bohemirn Magic Tower, forced to do all manner of chores.
And yet, in the scraps of time, he still managed to satisfy his magical curiosity. Despite his young age, he possessed the magical comprehension and determination to make it possible.
And after he came of age at eighteen, seven long years.
He had been subjected to countless forbidden experiments—everything short of direct human dissection.
[Devote your life for the Magic Tower]
The tower master's compulsory magic circle.
The orders and pain it inflicted still surfaced with clarity, as if it had all happened yesterday.
Knowledge he had been unwillingly crammed with, results he had been forced to spit out. With each passing day, his body deteriorated, turning his life into a terminal existence. It remained horrific even in memory.
Merely recalling it made his magic power surge violently.
'Balrog Bessias.'
If he had collapsed before that name, if he had finally given in and resigned himself, what would have become of him now?
Even if he had endured a while longer, he would not have survived past last summer.
Used and used again, contributing only to raising the Magic Tower's rank, his corpse would have been incinerated, leaving not a trace behind.
A consumable of the Magic Tower, nothing more.
'...Not only the tower master.'
His vengeance was not limited to one man.
He remembered every single face of those who had participated in the Tower's unofficial experiments.
And among them were some who had left scars upon Verden that no lifetime could erase.
'Balrog's direct disciples, excluding Rovellin.'
The number was three in total.
The first two, aside from the third, had been responsible for overseeing the human experiments.
The first disciple,coveted Verden's innate comprehension, and used him as nothing more than a disposable tool, torturing him in all but name.
In less than three months, Verden's mind had been shattered into pieces.
And the second disciple,an authority on drug experiments, the one who created the mana circuit booster and memory expand.
Most decisively, the one who had condemned Verden to a terminal life.
'And lastly, the third disciple, Lucard Maniacs.'
Though lacking in skill to join the unofficial experiments, he had stolen the Multi-dimensional Continuity Theory.
Thus, he had taken away Verden's fruits and opportunities, setting off the chain of events that made Verden into an unofficial test subject.
There was also the Elder Council of Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Old monsters, as mad for magic as Leonil, or even more so.
Twisted beings who, in the name of the Tower's prosperity, could sacrifice millions of lives without batting an eye.
"..."
Faces of hatred surfaced in his memory.
His brow bulged with veins, rage seething within him.
If they were before him now, even tearing them apart limb from limb would not ease the feeling.
'No, merely killing them won't be enough.'
Yes, that would fall far too short.
He would crush the pride they had built as Magi, trample and destroy everything they had left in the world. In doing so, he would swallow whole the Bohemirn Magic Tower that Balrog had led.
That time was not far off.
Already, he was nearing the realm of Transcendence.
'Of course, I don't intend to crash headlong right away.'
The opponent was the second in power among the ten Magic Towers.
Even if, for various reasons, their might had been diminished, if Verden were to wage war alone, he might inflict damage, but victory would be impossible.
At least, not as he was now, not without being a Transcendent.
Thus, preparation was needed.
He had to design a true plan for vengeance.
At that moment, he sensed a presence behind him.
"Ah, so here you were. If you're not busy, would you like to come to town with..."
Approaching, Calia flinched suddenly.
Her dark crimson eyes rippled. From Verden's face as he gazed outward, she saw a dark emotion she had never before witnessed.
"Asher...? Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing."
He was a beat late in quelling the emotions that surged up.
Shaking his head, Verden's face had already returned to its usual expression.
A stroll to the city, was it. Since they had to wait until Silis awoke anyway, time was not lacking.
"Then, let's go."
Verden took the lead in walking.
Calia reached out toward his back, only to withdraw her hand quickly and fall in step beside him.
The two of them walked side by side through the corridors of the castle.
***
Memories worn down by the long years flashed by like beams of light.
Tales of the ancient witches, stories she had never truly experienced herself, chewed over for more than twenty years until they had become dry and hollow.
It was not like the memories spoken of in common parlance.
Worn away by the flow of time, only the core remained, like a collection of information. The emotions felt by the ancient witches were not conveyed.
All that remained were accounts of what had occurred in ages past, and through them, the inheritance of the witches' magic. It was no different than reading history or a tome of magical theory.
But the memories transferred more recently were different.
Her mother, Remien.
All the pain and despair she had felt clamored within.
And yet, alongside them, the voice and touch of a mother who had lovingly cared for young Silis were felt intact.
Conflicting emotions, chaotically tangled together.
They clung to her as a curse, and contributed to shaping Silis's dream into reality.
Thus, at long last, the present day had come.
And yet, the curse did not disappear.
The dream had become reality, and reality soon turned into Silis's nightmare. What remained for her now, having lost the very foundation of her life?
"..."
Silis slowly opened her eyes.
The first thing she felt was the chill cooling her body temperature.
As she raised her upper body, Flona and Adel, who had been nursing her at her side, leaned their faces close.
"Your Highness, are you alright?!"
"Are you, are you in pain anywhere?"
Their voices brimmed with warm passion.
Her mother, who had once shown her the same kind of presence, came naturally to mind.
Silis gave a faint smile.
"I am fine, it is only the backlash of having overused the artifact."
"But..."
"More importantly, what happened with everything else?"
After a brief hesitation, Adel and Flona began to speak.
The elves and Calia's group who had come to the royal castle.
Sebas and Chemion's revenge against the secret social hall.
And Asher, who had personally rooted out all of Leonil's human experiment research stored in the Royal Magic Ministry, and set them ablaze.
"...I see."
Listening, Silis turned her head.
This was the tower where she had been imprisoned her whole life. Beyond the iron bars, which reflected no sunlight, the sky was full of clouds.
Silis, staring with vacant eyes, spoke.
"Would you summon Marquis Esperanza for me?"
***
"Your Highness, it is truly fortunate that you are unharmed."
The marquis, dressed in full uniform, knelt on one knee.
Unforgettable, vivid red hair swayed. Silis sat in her wheelchair as though it were her place, basking in the sunlight.
"How are you, Marquis?"
"As you can see, I am perfectly well. And everyone else too, thanks to Your Highness, is recovering their minds smoothly. So please, do not worry."
"…That is a relief."
Silis let out a sigh of relief.
The magic of a witch could shatter the mind, but conversely, it could also restore it. A world embodied within the human psyche, a dream.
That dream was what witches uniquely could manipulate.
"Now, it is as though the long journey has finally ended. Grond, the king of the underworld, and Leonil are dead, and the minds of the Estirian king and Valrgna and the others are all under my control."
"To have fulfilled your vow, I truly congratulate you."
"Without your power, I could not have done it."
"I only did what I must."
Silis gave a faint laugh.
His voice, his demeanor, always steadfast, always the same.
Her platinum eyes tilted sideways with her head. What she saw was the tower's quarters, far inferior compared to other sections of the castle.
"Marquis."
"Please, speak."
"When I thought my plan had succeeded, and I was carrying out my revenge in the royal castle, Asher suddenly came to me and asked. He asked me what I would do after my revenge was done."
"..."
"At the time I could not answer, but when Leonil's defeat became inevitable, only then did I come to a conclusion. And even as I continued to dream, I thought about it again, but the answer remained the same."
Her voice was steeped in resignation.
"I do not know. That is the answer I came up with."
She had seized the castle.
No longer did she need to play the puppet princess in a wheelchair. But even that had become far too familiar.
This forsaken tower of the castle, this suffocating view beyond the bars.
The days of living only for revenge had become her life itself.
But now, the time of dreaming was over.
The familiar world felt utterly foreign. Having lost her lifelong purpose, it was as though she were left alone in the dark.
Silis could not overcome this wandering.
"Marquis, I have used you all this time. It is shameless of me, but still, I must ask. What should I do now?"
Silis half-closed her eyes.
There was a woman who had lost her will.
"Shall I make all those under my control kill themselves, and die myself as well, thus ending the filthy Royal Family of Estiria?"
The Estirian king, Valrgna, Silis, the House of Duke Dosramd, and the House of Duke Devon.
If all who bore even a drop of royal blood perished, the royal family would end. Silis had the power to make it happen.
"Sili───"
"No, if that happened, great chaos would come upon the kingdom. The nobles would splinter apart, waging massive civil wars for the vacant throne."
Silis shrugged her shoulders.
"But if it came to that, you could take the throne yourself, Marquis. With your strength, and your great renown, as the present head of the House of Marquis Esperanza, it would be more than possible. The nation would be unstable, yes, but at the very least, you would govern far better than the current royal family."
The marquis began to speak.
But Silis pressed on without giving him room.
"Do you dislike war? Then I could keep the Estirian king and Valrgna as puppets, and leave the kingdom to hide myself. That would not be so bad either."
Perhaps it could be so.
But she could not bring herself to choose so easily.
"...And if that were the case, Adel and Flona and Lorian would surely follow me. I am the last surviving bloodline of the Ducal House of Rubinelian, so Sebas and Chemion would likely insist on accompanying me as well."
Her slender hand clenched into a fist.
Blue veins shone beneath her pale skin.
"It is selfish of me to say so now... but whether by my will or not, I do not want everyone, including you, Marquis, to keep serving me as princess and suffering for it."
Silis looked ahead.
The man who had chosen to be her ally was listening intently.
"Marquis, what should I do?"
Her voice faded, scattered into nothing.
A silence heavy enough to be nearly suffocating descended.
Silis's hand trembled faintly as she awaited an answer. She could no longer hide the instability of her heart, already unmoored.
But the marquis was different.
His red eyes, filled with strength, did not waver in the slightest. His heart was resolute, his bearing unwavering.
"Become king, Your Highness."
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