Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Clash of Worlds
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It wasn't unheard of for high-level mages to intentionally project their 'World of Ideology' into reality. After all, that was precisely the context behind calling a clash between high-level mages a 'clash of worlds'.
But that wasn't the case for Leonard Walter. This was merely the result of a recklessly achieved 4th Circle spiraling out of control, his consciousness running rampant.
“How dare someone like you… How dare someone like you be so much better than me…!”
He had literally become a 'god of flames,' burning with jealousy and inferiority.
“Look up to me! All of you, respect me…!”
The flames of hell raged from all directions. A world of fire, a perfect projection of Leonard Walter's inner landscape. This was 'Leonard Walter's world,' and he was its god.
The incarnation of jealousy and inferiority.
“Dale of Sachsen… you are the one who will disappear, the one who will be defeated…!”
That very incarnation unleashed a distorted flame of malice toward Dale.
'What a hopeless brat.'
Dale shook his head in disbelief. After shaking his head, with his shadow cloak fluttering behind him, he focused his consciousness.
“Don't you dare look down on me, Dale of Sachsen…!”
The flames enveloping Leonard exploded, surging toward Dale.
*CRASH!*
“Hiek!”
Even the 4th Circle professor, caught in the crossfire, was no match for Leonard's rampaging attack within the World of Ideology.
'He doesn't look like he'll be of any help.'
And the 3rd Circle students were even more useless. The situation was escalating more complicatedly than he'd expected, and Dale clicked his tongue.
'It's not like I need to take responsibility for them anyway.'
At the same time, a shield of cold forged from blue mana blocked Leonard's strike.
“Everyone, get behind me.”
From beneath Dale's feet, a horizon of chilling cold and darkness began to spread. A world of a winter night, holding endless emptiness and void.
“──This is my domain.”
Every mage possesses a world that projects their inner self. And that world is the foundation of the ideology they build.
Leonard Walter's world was one filled with the blazing flames of jealousy. A world burning like the very fires of hell.
In response, Dale deployed his 'World of Ideology.' Not a rampant outburst like Leonard's, but a projection of Dale's inner world under the complete control befitting a high-level mage.
A clash of ideologies, a clash of worlds.
Dale walked straight toward the blazing Leonard, the world of a white and dark winter night at his back.
The world of chilling cold and darkness collided with the world of flames.
The two worlds interlocked. And on the boundary between them, Dale kicked off the ground.
He accelerated the circle in his heart, generating blue mana and scattering a chill to rob the area of its heat. White frost swirled through the air. The raging frost absorbed the surrounding heat, beginning to reach thermal equilibrium, like a firefighter extinguishing a blaze.
He strode toward Leonard Walter, who was letting his flame mana run wild.
“Leonard Walter.”
Approaching him, Dale spoke.
“Look around you.”
He addressed Leonard, who had become a shadow of flames, having lost all reason. The chilling darkness and cold of a winter night unfurled behind him.
The 'World of the Black Prince' was spread before him.
“...”
Before long, the world of emptiness that Dale had unfurled was swallowing Leonard's world. The hell of blazing jealousy and inferiority was consumed by the chilling darkness and cold of a winter night.
A battle between mages is, in the end, a battle of clashing ideologies, of clashing worlds.
In that regard, no matter how much Leonard rampaged with his overflowing mana, there was little a mere prodigy could do before a 'true genius.'
“Ah, ahhhhhh!”
Leonard screamed. The flames of jealousy dancing upon his body shot down toward Dale. The flames of jealousy and inferiority. That was the form of Leonard Walter's ideology as a mage.
But the raging flames of jealousy froze solid.
Unable to melt the 'cold of the winter night' that Dale commanded, the world of flames began to freeze. The fire died down, and darkness descended upon it. An endless darkness, like peering into the abyss.
“This is my world.”
Dale spoke, the 'world of Dale' he had unfurled against Leonard Walter at his back.
“Are you prepared to bear the weight of this world?”
That day, he projected the landscape of a winter night, composed of endless void and emptiness.
“Does the 'talent I possess' still seem so much like a lustrous, shining jewel to you?”
The flames of jealousy that had been consuming Leonard were now flickering weakly, dying out.
“Ah, ahh…”
Dale took a step forward.
Leonard took a step back. Away from the white and dark horizon of the winter night that Dale commanded behind him.
“St-st-stay away…!”
As if fleeing from the chilling cold and darkness.
“What's wrong?”
Dale asked in return.
“What you desire is right here.”
The source of Dale's talent. The 'World of the Black Prince.' A vacant horizon of chilling cold and darkness.
“Weren't you so consumed by jealousy and inferiority, so desperate for the talent I possess?”
It wasn't something as trivial as talent. The incarnation of absurdity? Don't make him laugh.
“I have already paid the price.”
He remembered the blade of the holy sword that had pierced his chest.
“Are you prepared to pay that price?”
Dale asked, as if he couldn't understand.
“What you desire is right here, so why are you trying to run away?”
Leonard did not answer.
“Do the things I have still feel like a blessing to you?”
Dale asked.
“P-please…! Don't come any closer, don't come any closer…!”
Terrified, Leonard trembled and begged. On his knees, wretched. He didn't even have the courage to gaze upon the world Dale shouldered, and the flames of jealousy that had been burning in the area were now gone.
Every last scattering ember had died out.
All that remained was a bone-chilling cold and swirling frost.
In the world-consuming darkness, Leonard was now merely trembling in fear.
Leonard's heart and his fourth circle, which should have been burning at the peak of his rampage, were frozen solid.
*Snap.*
Dale snapped his fingers. The world of a winter night that had enveloped the area vanished. When they came to their senses, they were back inside the Imperial Academy's practical magic auditorium.
“W-we're back…”
The professor muttered in shock. Dale lowered his gaze.
“Ah, ahhh…”
Leonard Walter was there. Trembling like a madman gripped by paranoia, muttering incomprehensible nonsense.
He still hadn't recovered from the aftereffects of coming into contact with Dale's world.
After all, that winter darkness was something that even a 6th Circle elven mage couldn't maintain their composure against.
While the professor and students who hadn't been directly exposed were fine, the same couldn't be said for Leonard Walter.
The 'World of the Black Prince' was not something a mere prodigy's vessel could handle.
It wouldn't be strange if he never recovered from the aftereffects and spent the rest of his life as a madman. No, that was probably what would happen. He had known it from the start.
'Not my problem.'
Dale turned his head, unconcerned.
Leonard had brought this upon himself, and Dale had merely made him pay the price.
***
Afterward.
The rampage at the academy was brought to a close, and it was as if nothing had ever happened.
A gag order from the Red Magic Tower was issued to all who knew the truth.
Leonard Walter had simply withdrawn for personal reasons, and a rumor circulated among the students that his mind had become addled for some reason.
'I heard he picked a fight with the eldest son of House Sachsen, lost, and went mad.'
'Leonard lost to an eleven-year-old kid?'
'I guess the rumors from the gossips were true.'
'To think the great Leonard Walter would end up like that…'
'They say he was cursed by black magic and went insane from the pain!'
'No, I heard it was a magic that shatters the mind!'
Dale's name was by no means an empty one. And as always, stories tended to be exaggerated.
Moreover, since the Red Magic Tower was forced to remain silent, unable to reveal the truth, Dale's infamy grew to new heights with each passing day.
Rumors spread that Leonard had been cursed by the 'Black Prince's' evil black magic and had gone insane.
Because of this, no one at the Imperial Academy dared to treat Dale carelessly. In fact, they were more desperate than ever to cautiously stay on his good side. Even the professors, who were meant to guide the students, were no exception.
If anything, their fear was greater than the students', as they fully understood the prestige of 'Lord Black' and House Sachsen.
In any case, for Dale, none of this was a bad thing.
***
A short while after the eldest son, Leonard, went mad and was confined to the dungeons.
The Red Magic Tower.
Walter of the Burning Blood, an elder of the tower and a 6th Circle mage, bit his lip so hard it bled. He wailed in bone-deep sorrow.
“The bloodline of House Walter…!”
It was not the grief of a father for his eldest son, Leonard. It was the grief of a nobleman whose family's reputation had fallen to ruin, whose bloodline, meant to carry on the family name, had lost its function.
The shame of having sullied the proud name of Walter was so bitter, so sorrowful, he couldn't bear it.
“Unthinkable, this is unthinkable!”
Just as his moniker, 'of the Burning Blood,' suggested, Count Walter's blood began to boil like fire within his veins.
“Dale of Sachsen… that damn brat from House Sachsen!”
Walter of the Burning Blood. An elder of the Red Magic Tower and a red mage who, during the empire's unification war, had served as the '6th Unit Commander of the Black-Red Brigade,' conducting countless biological experiments and accumulating 'academic achievements.'
“Unforgivable, absolutely unforgivable!”
And it went without saying where his rage was directed.
“Ah, Lord Walter.”
Just then, a voice was heard.
At the sound of that voice, his blood, which had been blazing like fire, instantly turned cold.
“L-Lord Master…!”
A red-haired, handsome man was there, looking at him, having appeared without a sound.
“I humbly greet the Lord Master!”
It was Lord Crimson, Marquis Yuriseu.
“Your heart must be in great pain.”
Marquis Yuriseu put on an exaggerated expression of sympathy. And before the Master of the Red Magic Tower who was consoling him, Count Walter's face froze over.
“I-I-I am sorry!”
It was a fear like one would have looking at a terrifying entity.
It wasn't strange for a tower elder to hold the master in reverence. But in Walter's feelings toward Lord Crimson, there was no simple reverence. There was only the terror of looking at a monster.
Because he, more than anyone, understood the man known as 'Lord Crimson' up close.
“I-I hold absolutely no ill will toward the eldest son of House Sachsen, whom you invited, Lord Master!”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes! P-please, do not misunderstand!”
“Hmm, what a shame.”
Marquis Yuriseu tilted his head as if surprised.
“I was merely…”
He said, with a smile that completely hid his true intentions.
“Hoping to help you with your revenge, you see.”