The Clock Tower of the Mage's Association was an institution ruled by aristocrats. Within its walls gathered magus lineages that controlled half the world. Through magecraft, they altered political landscapes; through society, they guided public opinion. All of it served a single purpose—to conceal the existence of Mystery.
For the nobility, purity of blood came before all else. After Lord Kayneth's brutal death, the Archibald family—bearers of the El-Melloi name—fell into chaos. Without a head, their authority fractured, their influence bleeding away.
That was why the Archibalds had to choose a new family head as quickly as possible. Someone had to steer the behemoth forward and preserve their standing within the Clock Tower.
At present, aside from Reines, there were many candidates. Open rivalry mixed with secret schemes, all aimed at removing competitors—or silencing them permanently.
"So that bastard Rhodes said he'd clear the path for me, but all he sends are you idiots?" Reines shouted. "If he's busy, where are his puppets?"
The blonde, underfed noble Miss roared like a dictator at a rally.
Before her stood twelve mercenaries in Kevlar vests. They reeked of gunpowder and blood, war dogs to the core. Nothing about them matched the word elegant.
"You're Miss Reines?" one of them said calmly. "If you don't need protection, you can discuss it with Rhodes yourself. We're just doing the job we were paid for."
The speaker was a short girl with flaxen hair. She introduced herself as Holo—the commander of the mercenaries. Yet Reines sensed no magical fluctuation from her at all.
In other words, they were all ordinary humans. People completely divorced from Mystery. How could such creatures possibly stand against magi?
The thought tightened the veins on Reines's forehead. Rhodes' halfhearted response infuriated her.
"What is that bastard thinking…" she muttered, unaware of the cold glint flashing through Holo's eyes.
"Complaining won't help you now, Miss Reines," Holo said softly. "Your friends are already here. If you don't deal with these unwelcome guests, I don't need to explain how this ends."
"Damn mercenaries—threatening me?" Reines snapped. Still, she moved toward the entrance. Circumstances left her little choice.
Outside the manor, more than a dozen lavishly dressed nobles chatted among themselves. Smiles full of mockery hung on their faces. Every one of them was a prominent figure, representing a branch of the Archibald family.
Now they stood united, their target obvious—Reines, the greatest threat among them.
Whether in conduct or mastery of the Arcane Magic, none of them could compare to her. If Reines remained, their chances of claiming the family headship were slim to none.
"Miss Reines."
The noble at the forefront bowed slightly. He wore a deep blue suit, adorned with ornaments, his fingers heavy with gemstone rings. Every piece was a Mystic Code, symbols of power and authority. "I wish to offer you some advice. Please withdraw from the selection for family head."
His tone was refined, yet it carried the menace of a serpent baring its fangs.
If Reines refused, she would be torn apart by the assembled magi. If she accepted, the stain of cowardice would strip her of any future claim.
Neither outcome was tolerable.
Yet the weaker members of the Archisorte line had already fled, too afraid to confront the nobility. Reines stood alone.
She had overlooked one crucial ally.
"Just these trash mobs?" a mocking voice sounded beside her. "Finish it quick and go home."
Holo's voice followed, flat and precise. "Sniper. Take him out."
Bang.
The sound echoed like a melon shattering. The arrogant magus' head exploded, blood spraying across the manor gates.
"How is this possible—"
The remaining magi scrambled for cover, activating their Mystic Codes, desperate to evade the sniper's aim.
But those who had never seen a battlefield could never comprehend the might of a true war machine.
"Pick up your weapons," Miss Holo commanded loudly. "Show these Clock Tower idiots who really holds the power to change the world!"
Black gun barrels rose into view.
As mercenaries grinned with feral delight, an M61 Vulcan rotary cannon locked onto the nobles. At Holo's order, they pulled the trigger without hesitation.
"Wrrrr—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"
Explosions and fire drowned the estate. Under merciless crossfire, noble elegance and inherited authority meant nothing.
This was the crushing advance of the modern over the archaic.
A true transformation in the history of magecraft.
◇◇◇
While Reines was drowning in chaos, Rhodes arrived at a remote nation in the South Pacific—escorted by his maids.
The Solomon Islands. A name that sounded grand, yet the nation itself was profoundly underdeveloped. Most of its people were Black. Though Christianity had taken root, many old customs remained.
Clear waters and golden beaches surrounded the islands, but tourists were rare. Only dedicated divers knew the place well.
As the private jet touched down, two lines of maids—sixteen in total—stepped gracefully from the cabin and formed ranks to welcome their extravagant Archwizard.
They were all golems—autonomous dolls. Each possessed physical abilities far beyond ordinary humans. Their skin was flawless, their figures sharp and full. They could hurl a car with raw strength, wield most firearms with mastery, and fight with the discipline of elite soldiers.
Now, they existed for a single purpose—to greet the Arcanist who had given them life.
"Hah… that salty stench is awful," Rhodes said.
He looked no older than fifteen or sixteen as he stepped onto the tarmac. His gaze lingered on the blue sea beyond the private airstrip, a faint smile forming on his lips.
"My shipgirls, my flying battleships," he murmured.
"Your master has arrived."