The Black Tower Lord (1)
“Ugh!?”
“What's wrong?”
“Nah, nothing. Just had a weird feeling.”
Floating aimlessly in the white void, Sung-tae peered into his palm. He'd thought this time he'd finally nail it, but no matter how hard he strained or pushed, his life force magic refused to budge.
“Sigh. Guess I really don't have the talent for this...”
What even is talent, anyway? Is it when your thoughts alone make the wind bend to your will? If that's the case, then yeah, I'm definitely talentless. No matter how much I wish for it, the mana won't move.
With that thought, Sung-tae let out a deep sigh and flopped back down.
“Aigoo, how can you give up already, Sung-tae! Come on!”
“How long have I been in here...?”
“About 14 hours now, my lord.”
“14 hours... And nothing to show for it. Maybe it's just impossible for me? You said it'd be easy once I could sense it.”
Sometimes there are realms you can't reach through effort alone. The genius who perfectly replicates a painting after one glance. The math whiz who mentally calculates hundreds of numbers in a flash. The language prodigy who chats fluently with foreigners after skimming a dictionary a few times. No amount of hard work can bridge that overwhelming gap in talent—and without it, some doors stay locked forever.
“Maybe magic's one of those realms?”
“Aigoo, Sung-tae! Don't give up yet. I'll help you. Try again!”
“How?”
“It's life force magic, right? I'll watch from inside and see how it changes.”
“For real?”
At Mukkebi's words, Sung-tae straightened up. In that instant, the space trembled faintly.
“What was that just now?”
“Close your eyes quick and try again.”
“Got it.”
The vibration felt suspicious, but prodded by Mukkebi, he shut his eyes and focused on his training—oblivious to the chaos unfolding outside.
A smooth, pitch-black serpent coiled around the White Tower like a living shadow of dark mana. Writhing not as mere magic but as a creature of flesh and blood, it sprouted massive tentacles that ensnared the tower. Vicious slime oozed from the tentacles, and where it touched, acrid smoke billowed as the ancient spire—enduring through countless ages—began to melt away.
“Kekeke. Kuhahaha!!! Scream for me! Tremble in terror! Your soul-rending cries will be sustenance for my master!”
“You mad bastard!”
Storm clouds suddenly gathered overhead. They hung heavy, ready to unleash rain—but instead plummeted toward the suspicious man like a deluge from the heavens. The ground beneath him corroded and vanished under the onslaught of dark mana: Acid Cloud.
“Not content with impersonating the Black Tower Lord—you're committing atrocities too?!”
Huwiger, the Black Tower Lord who had conjured the cloud, descended to earth and bellowed at the man. A pity his strike hadn't finished him; this foe was no pushover.
He really wields dark mana!
The man burst from the cloud, and Huwiger tensed at the darkness cloaking his form. It carried a quality akin to his own—perhaps even superior.
“A descendant who commands the power of darkness, eh?”
The suspicious man grinned at Huwiger. Centipedes crawled from between his teeth and slithered back into his eyes.
“And who the hell are you?!”
“Heh. Such a foul mouth. Just a child.”
“!!!”
Huwiger fell silent at the hooded man's grotesque face. It wasn't just the corpse-like visage; he knew well what the pendant around his neck signified.
“Th-that's...”
A small golden pendant etched with the number ‘1’. Huwiger wore an identical one marked ‘13’—the pendants bestowed upon Black Tower Lords, denoting Huwiger the 13th.
“Indeed. You're just a child. The thirteenth Black Tower Lord.”
“...You dare steal from our forebears?!”
“Steal? I am the true Huwiger. The first Black Tower Lord. So don't interfere—I'm serving my master.”
The man's fleshless, leather-clad fingers clenched the air. Linked to the tentacles by dark mana, they tightened around the White Tower.
“Stop! No—cease this at once! Damn it! First or not, just stop!”
Huwiger couldn't tell if the man's words rang true. After all, the first Black Tower Lord had vanished from Yuglatsil amid great dishonor.
“If you're that infamous thief, then quit it right now!”
Theft, plain and simple. Despite having everything, the first lord despaired at his inability to surpass his hated rival, the White Tower.
The Black Tower had risen slightly later than the White. This fueled the first lord's rivalry. Yet the inaugural White Tower Lord was a genius beyond geniuses—even a genius like the first Black Tower Lord felt ordinary by comparison.
“A thief, am I? Yes... I did steal.”
In his desperation, he committed the unforgivable: infiltrating the White Tower and pilfering its lord's research.
“But it led me to my master, so I regret nothing.”
No one knew what he'd taken. No witnesses. Yet he openly confessed to the crime before vanishing.
The scandal plummeted the Black Tower's prestige—already lagging behind the White—and only under the current lord had it begun to recover.
“Well, enough chatter with a descendant. Must get back to work before I get scolded.”
Black fissures spread across the White Tower. The tentacles constricted like a serpent devouring prey.
“It's over.”
“Stop!”
The man's fist clenched fully. The tentacles followed suit.
Crunch.
The tower, lifelong companion to the mage city of Yuglatsil, crumbled. Huwiger watched in stunned horror. He envied the White Tower, true—but as fellow mage and city ruler, he respected it. To see it vanish so pointlessly...
“Urk!?”
In that moment, radiant light erupted from the collapsing tower. Like dawn banishing night, it repelled the tentacles and restored the spire in an instant.
Huwiger shouted at the sight.
“...Life force magic!”
A beam of light descended between the two Huwigers. Aurelie emerged from within.
“And who might you be?”
Her gaze—once filled with mercy and patience—now burned with disgust at the culprit.
“...No, what are you? Not undead, yet not truly alive.”
“I am Huwiger, the first Black Tower Lord. Here on my master's orders. Do not interfere.”
“If your 'errand' means destroying the White Tower, you're too late. The tower's just an object. I've evacuated all the books holding our knowledge and the mages hours ago.”
White Tower magic was life magic—bolstering bodies, healing in a flash like divine power. It applied to objects too, allowing full restoration. Its domain even extended to space; though she'd rebuilt the tower, sensing danger, she'd teleported vital research and people to another part of the city.
I couldn't check, but it should've worked fine, right?
Of course, she hadn't forgotten the secret chamber's door—a gateway to a created space. As long as the door was safe, Sung-tae would be too.
“Huwiger, do you know him? That pendant...”
“He claims to be the first Black Tower Lord. Hard to believe, but...”
“I am Huwiger.”
“I want no part of sharing a name with filth like you.”
“Shall I call you Black Tower Lord, then?”
“I am the Black Tower Lord.”
“'Former' Black Tower Lord fits better!”
The two glared daggers. One loathed the criminal stain on his name; the other took pride as the original.
Aurelie sighed, watching them.
“Not undead, not alive—not even a monster, really.”
Even undead held a sliver of life force to animate flesh. But this man possessed only dark mana.
“Just call it a freak.”
“Fine. Freak hunt, then. Wager on who finishes first?”
“...No respect for the first Black Tower Lord?”
“Hmph. Freaks get no respect.”
The two lords gathered their mana. Longtime rivals, these genius mages united against a common foe for the first time.
“Let's make it quick.”
“Hngh!”
Deep furrows creased Sung-tae's brow. Hours into his aspiring mage face-straining, he'd made progress with Mukkebi's aid.
“Yeah? Got it. Hngh!”
As he strained, Mukkebi roamed his inner world, seeking the surging golden pillar. Bizarrely, each time Sung-tae sensed and tried to move his life force, a pillar erupted somewhere in the inner sea. It writhed skyward like an earthworm but never reached.
“Hoo. Hoo. How high this time?”
“Yeah? Long way to go. Alright, once more!”
“...”
Dozens of hours in, boredom was nowhere—clear progress made it fun. His brow might wrinkle permanently before mastering life force magic, but Garba watching him beamed with pride. Effort poured into one task? Always impressive.
...Felt a vibration just now.
A faint tremor from beyond the door. Garba's senses caught it, but unwilling to disturb her lord's training, she brushed it off.
Should be fine.
“Impressive.”
A shimmering glass dome severed the city from the freak. Like the saintess's holy barrier isolating Rubert and the people, Aurelie's spell replicated it—but far sturdier, woven from systematic magic.
“The first's knowledge passed on well. I doubted that power would transmit, but wielding life force magic so masterfully...”
“You knew the White Tower inside out, claiming to be the first Black Tower Lord. A shame someone so knowledgeable would do this. What's your motive?”
“Even underground, it's mad. Spatial severance. White Tower magic never ceases to amaze.”
The freak glanced skyward. Black spears gathered like thunderheads, primed to rain down. Its lips curled in a forced smirk.
“A nostalgic Black Tower spell.”
“Darkness Rain.”
Black spears pelted the earth. All they touched corroded; steel melted to mud. The freak laughed amid the barrage.
“Knew I'm the Black Tower Lord, did you? Darkness Rain is the one spell even fellow dark mana can't block. With no normal mana, even I can't...”
Yet it didn't dodge. Dark mana couldn't stop this, but it had another power.
“Fitting of my descendant. But before that one, it's useless.”
Thousands of black tentacles erupted from its shadow, snaring the spears. They didn't stop—extending skyward toward Huwiger.
But Aurelie's mana sliced between them.
“A pity—it won't reach.”
“Hmm. The White Tower heir's no slouch.”
The transparent barrier repelled the tentacles—not mere mana, but a spatial divide.
Aurelie, now airborne beside Huwiger, extended her hand toward the freak.
“For the chaos you've wrought. For attacking the White Tower. I'll claim your life in recompense.”
“I cannot die. Not while he exists.”
“Until we try...”
Black lines spiderwebbed the freak's space. Aurelie's barrier had formed a dome around it. Inside, the lines trapped everything.
“You don't know.”
My body won't move.
Spatial rifts. Physical existence demands space to move. Rift that space? Even titans are immobilized. Circulation, thought—all cease.
A true kill shot. Far crueler than the Black Tower's aggressive spells—this was White Tower forbidden magic.
White Tower heir... You've inherited his knowledge fully.
Yet amid the rifts, the freak's mind raced on. Impossible, but its power made the impossible real. The rifts occupying space were sucked into it. Black lines riddled its body, spreading until it was a hole-riddled husk.
“It's over.”
Her light seeped through the aerial voids, mending them like healed wounds. Huwiger had stalled with his power, buying time for Aurelie's ultimate spell. Linked might made victory simple.
“Phew. Done. That freak called itself the first Black Tower Lord, so we'll bill the Black Tower for all damages...”
“Forget it. You called me a freak too. Why pay for its mess...?”
A chill seeped to their bones. Unlike sheltered elite mages, these battle-hardened lords sensed the peril. Twisting midair, they dove earthward and glanced back.
Countless tentacles pierced the space where they'd hovered.
“Sent it beyond the rift, yet it survived...”
“Disgusting.”
The tentacles slithered smoothly from the rift, merging fluidly—like serpents mating.
The rift sealed like mud. The mass shrank, reforming the freak. The two lords grimaced upward at the horror.
No longer human speech—but a demonic wail burrowing into their minds.