Magic City Yuglatsil
Magic City Yuglatsil. One of the city-states that retained its autonomy even after the continent was unified under the likes of Saint Country Barnessa. It was a dream destination not just for aspiring mages from all corners of the continent, but even for established ones. Some likened it to this: "The heaven preached by the Saint Country may or may not exist, but the heaven for mages is real—it's called Yuglatsil."
For mages, Yuglatsil held unparalleled importance. Above all, it housed the three greatest towers on the continent. The Red Tower, embodiment of all elemental magic. The White Tower, which amplified the raw power of mana itself beyond mere elements. And the Black Tower, master of dark mana. Each had a tower lord at its helm, figures hailed as heroes among mages, basking in immense prestige.
While the Saint Country was governed by temples extolling the gods' glory, Yuglatsil was ruled by its three towers—which meant the three tower lords were essentially its emperors.
"...That's what Gepelt told me. So this is Yuglatsil."
"Indeed, the scent of mana hangs thick in the air."
Upon hearing Gepelt's briefing, Sung-tae and Garba had headed straight for Yuglatsil. Gazing at the distant city walls, they marveled, Now that's a city of magic!
A colossal city encircled by walls. The three towers rising above them evoked the Tower of Babel from scripture, stretching toward the blue sky. These impossibly tall spires, beyond even Earth's technology, pierced the clouds, symbols of humanity's defiance against the divine.
Some buildings floated in the air like Sung-tae's Demon King Castle. Like tiny sky islands, they were fortresses exclusive to mages, and the wizards flying toward them resembled fluttering fairies.
"Alright, let's head in. Garba, no causing trouble, got it?"
"Ugh... Y-yes, my lord."
Garba's tail and ears drooped at Sung-tae's warning. It was all thanks to Gepelt's advice.
-Mages are an arrogant bunch. Human ones especially. Magic is a special power you can't learn without talent. When all the talented ones gather in one place, it's natural they'd look down on the untalented. Since neither you, my lord, nor I can use magic... we'll likely be ignored.
'Ugh. Wish you'd come with us.' Gepelt would have shielded them from disdain, but he'd refused, citing the need to manage the rampaging monsters. Seeing their overzealous energy, Sung-tae couldn't press further—the future of the Demon King Castle was at stake.
'Gotta stay low-key to avoid picking fights.' Mages were arrogant, so revealing they couldn't use magic would invite trouble. The black armor might intimidate, though—if they behaved, it should be fine.
"Let's go."
"Yes, my lord!"
The pair strode confidently toward the gates like they owned Barnessa. True to a great city, a long line snaked toward the entrance. Fitting for a magic hub, most were mages. The scorching sun beat down mercilessly, yet no one sweated—they cooled themselves with spells.
'Look over there. A warrior, huh.'
'Tsk tsk. Must be sweltering. Black armor in this heat? He'll roast inside.'
'Poor warriors.'
The mages' whispers reached Sung-tae's ears. Far from intimidated by the black armor, they mocked him as a warrior. Gepelt was spot-on—they were arrogant.
'Heh. A warrior daring to step here? Go sweat it out somewhere else.'
'Don't be too harsh. Their brains are all muscle—no common sense. That's why they're here.'
'Nah, maybe the muscle-brain thing made them warriors. Let's get the order right.'
'Fate, I guess. Doomed to crawl the dirt forever.'
"......"
Garba's body moved on instinct. Her sharp claws and feline eyes locked on the slanderers, but Sung-tae grabbed her wrist.
"Stop."
"My lord! But... ugh... Understood."
Garba obediently lowered her hand. They'd made a promise—no escalating things.
'Did you see that? Shady move.'
'That woman's a warrior too? Typical—hands first.'
'Ignore 'em. Warriors can't do squat here. Sneaky cowards at heart.'
Garba glared daggers amid the ongoing taunts. Some mages noticed and turned, but the rest kept mocking.
'Worse than I thought.' They hadn't even entered yet, and the hostility was this bad. In a city full of such haughty mages, caution alone wouldn't cut it.
'Can't go smashing everything either.' Brute force? That's the "dumb musclehead" trope they'd claim victory over mentally, even if beaten physically.
'Then... yeah. Got a good idea.'
"Next!"
The gate guard summoned them. A mage himself, he smirked at Sung-tae's attire.
"Permit."
"Here."
Casual speech? The guard's eyes narrowed, but seeing the proffered adventurer's card, he sneered again.
"What, an adventurer cert? It works as a permit, but... just C-rank."
"Pfft!"
Nearby mages burst out laughing. Terrifying armor, yet only C-rank?
"Fine, adventurer confirmed. What's your specific class?"
He knew it was warrior but asked anyway, priming for another laugh. The waiting mages and guard leaned in eagerly.
"......Mage."
"Huh? What?"
Sung-tae repeated loudly for all to hear.
"I'm a mage."
＊＊＊
Mages are akin to scientists. They crave novelty, so they embrace progress and innovation. New architectural styles, new gadgets—all converged in Yuglatsil.
Sung-tae grinned at the buildings, evoking 17th-18th century early modern Europe, a far cry from the medieval norm he'd seen.
"Nice."
On a sweltering summer day, few things beat iced drinks on a shaded terrace. Sipping unknown fruit juice from a large glass, Sung-tae surveyed the scene. He felt no heat himself, but the summery vibe made it feel like Earth.
"Ice via magic, huh. No straws, though."
"My lord......"
"Isn't it wild? A true mages' city—feels like a different era. Like the future's here already."
"My lord!"
Garba, who'd barely touched her drink, slammed the table lightly. Condensation dripped from her glass, wetting the surface.
"Claiming to be a mage—what's your plan now?"
"Become one. No need to worry."
"But... you're not a mage, my lord."
Recent memories swirled in her mind: the brief clash at the gate.
-You, a mage? Insulting mages now?
-Insult? Why would a fellow mage do that?
-If you're really a mage... got a cert?
-Lost it. Need a reissue.
-Grrgh!!!
The guard raged at Sung-tae's claim. Other mages glared fiercely, their sneers vanishing. To them, mage pride was sacred. A obvious warrior pretending? Outrageous.
-Fine... I'll let you in. But not a standard permit—a mage-use one.
-Mage-use permit?
-For mages only. Yours is special: expires and returns to me in exactly one day. Lost cert? Get a reissue within 24 hours and bring it. Fail...
No explicit threat, but the implication was clear. Despite verifying via adventurer card, admitting a faker showed their confidence. The pervasive, potent mana scents kept Garba on edge.
'Thought I was strong now. Gepelt nailed it.' Every mage here brimmed with power. Even the breeze carried mana surpassing hers in quality. She eyed the sky-piercing towers—the threats emanated from them.
"We've got a full 24 hours. Plenty of time."
"That's why we must hurry!"
Anxious Garba stood first. Without a cert soon, disaster loomed. Prideful mages wouldn't tolerate a fake—especially her lord. But they couldn't beat him. They'd rally more, escalating to deadly battle. The whole city as enemies? Inevitable casualties.
She didn't hate fights, but knowing her lord wanted peace, she'd honor that.
"Hm. Wanted to take it easy."
"No time. Even now......"
Invisible gazes watched from afar—likely magic. If mages turned hostile, deaths were unavoidable.
"Garba, you know I can't use magic."
"Yes. So we steal or buy a cert......"
"No. Can't use it, but I'll get one fair and square. That'll really flatten their noses, right?"
"But how......"
"Simple."
Sung-tae downed his drink and rose.
"With strength."
＊＊＊
Typically, three ways to become a mage.
First: Enroll in a magic academy, endure three years of classes, earn a cert. For scouting young talent (ages 8-15). Brutal exams weed out most; only elite geniuses graduate. Hence, academy mages are haughty elites.
Second: Become another's disciple. Get noticed, trained one-on-one. Less stressful than academy competition (which saw yearly suicides). Family-like bond, but 10-15 years to full recognition.
Third: Simplest.
"Sigh. A mage registry in a dump like this. Bureaucracy's curse."
Register at the mage registry office.
Magic seems genius-only, but normals can learn basics with effort. They don't bother in daily life—unless magic's essential. Adventurers fit that bill.
"No adventurers ever show. Dying of boredom."
Facing monsters, they seek safer edges: sidelined spells, voracious reading, peer tips, life-or-death practice. Prove it at registry—fastest path.
"Another empty day."
But registering screamed "adventurer!" Mages scorned them. Magic was for prodigies, not squandered on monster-slaying for profit. It should serve world and humanity!
"Heh. Hey, adventurer sir. Yawning again?"
"......Yeah."
Ruben, registry receptionist and examiner, ignored the jabs. Once an A-rank adventurer, he'd hustled for this cushy gig in old age. No drama worth quitting over.
'If only a bit stronger.' Job secured, but underestimated the disdain. The registry shared a building with the academy. He alone vs. dozens of elite mages there. His space? A tiny desk and backyard test area.
Space shrinkage was fine. The elites' mockery stung: "Adventurer mage scum."
'Should've hit S-rank.' Not special-rank—that was genius turf. Just S would've sufficed.
He clenched his fist but slumped in defeat. No rebelling—the pay was insane. Despite the dead-end post, salary topped his peak A-rank earnings.
'Then...' Not all adventurer-mages were scorned. High achievers earned respect. S-rank mage-adventurers wielded power elites acknowledged.
'Sigh. Pointless dreaming. Effort won't bridge that gap.'
Ding-a-ling!
The door bell chimed brightly, drawing eyes. Separate doors: academy and registry. Bell only on his.
"An adventurer seeking registry? What an idiot."
'Yeah, what idiot?'
Ruben inwardly agreed. Visitors were mages or peddlers. This one? No mage—a sturdy black-armored warrior.
"Whoa, check the gear. Fancy—noble?"
"Noble warrior. Mismatch."
"Exactly. Nobles as warriors? Lame."
Elites snickered. Ruben couldn't.
'W-what the hell is that guy?!'
Inexperienced elites missed it. Only Ruben, veteran of bloody combats, sensed the power radiating from the armor.
'H-hope he didn't wander in by mistake?'
The armor looked over 100kg, yet he moved fluidly—immense strength. The killing intent chilled Ruben to the bone. No other weapons save a bow on his back.
'Looted it. That armor blocks anything.' Adventurers repurposed enemy gear. But this one survived—and would keep doing so.
"What brings you?"
Ruben asked tensely. Noble parent for academy enrollment, wrong door?
"If it's academy application, not here—them over there......"
The armored figure cut in before he finished.
"Here for mage registration."