Chapter 55
Chapter 55
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Vine
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: The Wheels of History
-----------------------------------------------------------------
At the feet of the 6th-circle elven mage, Sephia, her world unfolded.
A different dimension for mages, blocking intervention from the outside world, and a deathly arena from which none could escape until one fell.
It was a land of frozen earth, a crystal-colored horizon stretching endlessly.
In response, Walter of the Bloodflame also deployed his world. Behind the back of the 6th-circle red mage, a world projecting his psyche revealed itself.
‘A surgical ward…?’
No, that wasn't it. Dale drew a sharp breath as he stepped back behind Sephia.
A scene overflowing with medical beds and patients, chains restraining them, and all sorts of horrific tools. Screams echoed from all directions. They were not cries to be saved. They were pleas, begging for death.
He soon realized. This was no ward meant for healing.
An elder of the Red Magic Tower, Walter of the Bloodflame. The commander of the 6th unit of the Black-Red Brigade, known as the Devil's Corps.
Walter's world was none other than the Black-Red Brigade's laboratory—specifically, the one he personally commanded in the 6th unit.
The red mage's vivisection laboratory.
A symbol of the cruelty that had abandoned all human decency in the pursuit of 'power and truth.' A living hell where all manner of horrific experiments were performed on live prisoners.
“Do you know why my epithet is 'Bloodflame'?”
With the laboratory of the Black-Red Brigade behind him, Walter of the Bloodflame asked again. Sephia did not answer. She merely stirred the currents of blue mana across the crystal tundra.
“If you heat a living person's blood to its boiling point… do you know what happens to the subject's body?”
Walter asked. Subject. At that word, Dale's expression soured for a moment.
“…”
“To obtain the optimal explosive formula for killing, how many prisoners do you think were sacrificed?”
Walter of the Bloodflame asked. Behind him, countless 'subjects' were now burning in flames.
Burning each subject with varying intensities of flame, and based on the results, determining what level of fire would yield the most efficient killing power. It was nauseating.
“Do you know how to combine the formulas for bolt magic to achieve maximum efficiency with minimum output?”
For the sake of mages' academic inquiry and cooperation, how many prisoners must have been horrifically sacrificed in that Black-Red Brigade laboratory.
“Do you know at what distance and with what magnitude an explosion must occur to achieve maximum lethality?”
Though what was unfolding now was merely 'the landscape of Walter's mind,' it was needless to say where that landscape originated.
“Progress is directly proportional to the amount of blood shed, and the wheels of history turn only through blood.”
Walter spoke. It was the very conviction of madness, without a shred of hesitation. A demon in human skin stood there.
“I understand perfectly now.”
At Walter's words, Sephia finally nodded.
“That you are a piece of trash beyond redemption.”
“What is it that you understand?”
Walter of the Bloodflame asked again.
“To test hypotheses through repeated experimentation and build a tower of wisdom upon those empirical results. Is that not the attitude of one who seeks the principles of magic? How could the likes of the Blue Magic Tower, who fear blood in the face of a great cause, dare to understand our spirit?”
To Walter's question, which seemed to express genuine confusion, Sephia remained silent.
“Do you think there is such a thing as progress in this world that can be achieved without shedding blood?”
“…Truly, the unfathomable vileness of a beast.”
After a long silence, Sephia spoke, unleashing the power of a 6th-circle elven mage before the beast unworthy of salvation.
Just then, Dale stepped in front of Sephia.
“Dale, stand back…!”
Sephia cried out in alarm, but Dale shook his head.
“No, I can't do that.”
His 'Shadow Cloak,' disguised as a black surcoat, fluttered as he faced the world of ideas presented by the Red Tower elder.
The world of ideas deployed by a high-ranking mage is a mental landscape that projects their very life. And that scene of living hell was the very psyche of 'Walter of the Bloodflame,' commander of the Black-Red Brigade.
The ideology of the Red Magic Tower, which believes without a doubt that power is the absolute value in this world. The demonic belief that blood shed to obtain power is nothing more than a 'sacrifice for the greater good.'
The subjects endlessly screaming in the vivisection laboratory, their cries begging for death amidst hellish torment. An unforgettable hatred seized Dale's heart.
He could never forgive the Red Magic Tower and the Empire.
“You're not the only one who can't forgive that man, Master.”
“Ha! Does a mere 3rd-circle brat dare to oppose me, 'the Bloodflame'!”
Seeing the black-and-blue mana swirling at Dale's feet, Walter of the Bloodflame scoffed.
“Just because you have a bit of talent, you dare to reach for the heavens, ignorant of your place!”
An elder of the Red Magic Tower and a 6th-circle mage. In his eyes, Dale was just a 3rd-circle mage, and the difference in their levels was undeniable. At least, that would be true for an 'ordinary 3rd-circle mage.'
“You will regret your foolishness in the fires of hell!”
Walter of the Bloodflame unleashed crimson mana along his six circles. At the same time, the countless subjects in the laboratory were freed from their 'chains of restraint.'
“Blood, blood, only blood!”
Freed from their restraints, an innumerable horde of subjects began to charge. The crowd, engulfed in flames and driven mad, rushed toward Dale and Sephia like a zombie hoard.
“The wheels of this world are turned only by the shedding of blood!”
The world of ideas manifested by a high-ranking mage, the landscape it reveals, is by no means an intangible illusion.
—The 6th-circle elven mage, Sephia, was no exception.
The land of frozen earth, with its endlessly stretching crystal horizon, finally began to move.
Crack, crackle.
The frozen tundra, made of ice, split apart, and an immense storm of frigid air raged.
“Hah! Do you think you can stop the wheels of blood with something so pathetic!”
Walter of the Bloodflame flicked his finger, and the subjects' bodies exploded in unison. He treated them as living explosives, their blood scattering with each blast.
To Walter of the Bloodflame, 'blood' was nothing more than a tool to turn the world's wheels, and that very blood was now swallowing Sephia's world. Blood, blazing like fire—the bloodflame that symbolized his epithet.
“Resonate.”
But with the crystal horizon behind her, Sephia flicked her finger.
A clear chord, carrying an unidentifiable dissonance, echoed out. Particles of blue mana began to scatter in all directions.
《Blue Dissonance》.
“Web of Dissonance.”
Simultaneously, the scattered particles of 'Blue Dissonance' began to connect with blue threads, like a spider's web. The fiery blood, surging like a wave, was blocked by the blue web and dissipated futilely.
Immediately, Dale moved. His Shadow Cloak fluttered, and a 'wave of darkness' spreading from his feet submerged the area like a flood.
「Kieeeeek!」
Another power he had obtained that day, after defeating the orc warboss.
The lake of darkness engulfed the area where the two high-ranking mages' worlds of ideas overlapped. At the same time, from beneath the churning dark lake, 'Shadow Lurkers' began to raise their heads after a long silence.
《Shadow Lurker》.
“…!”
Seeing this, Walter of the Bloodflame sucked in a breath. As he had said, there was no way a 'mere 3rd-circle mage' could face a 6th-circle one.
But his opponent was no mere 3rd-circle mage, and moreover, Dale was not Walter's only opponent.
“Be careful, Dale.”
“With such a reliable master watching my back, what is there to worry about?”
Dale replied to Sephia with a deliberate smile. A blue mage's specialty was not direct combat. They specialized in defense and support magic, from nullifying and sealing an opponent's spells to providing thorough protection.
That very blue mage, a 6th-circle elven one at that, was watching Dale's back. Where else in the world could he find more reliable cover?
Staining the area with his lake of darkness, Dale kicked off the ground. He plunged into the hellscape reminiscent of a surgical ward, into the world Walter of the Bloodflame had created.
“A brat like you…!”
Seeing this, Walter of the Bloodflame roared in fury.
“Burn…!”
Six circles whirled, and crimson mana began to rage like a storm. An overwhelming firepower, like a literal missile barrage, rained down on Dale.
But despite the missile bombardment pouring down from above, Dale's movements showed not a shred of hesitation.
“Flare.”
From behind him, Sephia's voice was heard.
Simultaneously, the missiles that should have struck Dale changed their targets to a completely different location, as if drawn to the blue particles scattering around Sephia. Just like flares used to decoy heat-seeking missiles.
The distance closed, and with each step, the lake of darkness rapidly expanded.
The place where a mage deploys their world of ideas is, in effect, their territory, and even the Shadow Cloak could not recklessly paint it with darkness. However, if one physically set foot on and invaded the enemy's territory, it was a different story.
Dale charged without hesitation into the world of ideas that Walter of the Bloodflame had deployed.
With each step, the domain of the shadow lake expanded from beneath Dale's feet.
“Protect me, my slaves!”
The vivisection laboratory of the Black-Red Brigade. The subjects endlessly generated in that lab rushed toward Dale, begging for death while engulfed in blazing flames. But they were merely images within Walter's psyche, not living people.
Without a moment's hesitation, Dale formed blades from his 'Shadow Cloak.' A barrage of blades, unbelievable for a mage, swept forth, and the subjects' bodies were torn to pieces. Immediately after, their bodies exploded in unison, engulfing Dale.
Or rather, tried to engulf him.
“Blue Quarantine.”
Sephia whispered, and the barrage of explosions that should have swallowed Dale was trapped within an unknown blue cube.
A magical prison.
‘She precisely designated the coordinates and quarantined the entirety of the opponent's attack.’
She had precisely defined the area of the widespread explosions and isolated the attack that should have reached Dale.
“This damned blue whore…!”
An elder of the Blue Magic Tower, a 6th-circle elven mage—it was by no means an empty title.
The distance closed again, and Walter's world was finally stained by the lake of darkness. The thorny tentacles of the 'Shadow Lurkers' hiding in the shadows shot up in unison.
Faced with thorny tentacles raging from all sides, Walter erected a barrier of flames. He was not an opponent who would be unilaterally defeated by a single tentacle, as the 'orc warboss' had been.
Nevertheless, nothing changed.
“Where is the optimal formula for killing?”
“Don't be ridiculous, you damn brat!”
Dale asked coldly. Walter of the Bloodflame thrashed about, unleashing a baptism of firepower. A force reminiscent of a Hellfire missile barrage raged, but that bombardment never reached Dale.
“Quarantine Zone Reassignment.”
Magical quarantine. It was, quite literally, a magical prison. A skill of blue mages that seals an opponent's magic by isolating it, preventing any interaction. It was not a simple ice or water-attribute spell.
As a high-ranking blue mage, she was tying his hands by sealing his magic itself. Moreover, she had yet to even use her 'world of ideas' as a weapon. Though part of the reason was her focus on covering Dale, to put it coldly, they were on different levels.
An elven mage.
Not all 6th-circle mages are the same. This was even more true in the case of an elf, a member of a race said to be 'loved by mana,' compared to a human.
“…!”
Only then did he understand. Walter of the Bloodflame was now no different from a fly caught in Sephia's web.
At the same time, from within the darkness swallowing Walter's world, the thorny tentacles of the Shadow Lurkers began to rage.
Usually, a battle between a knight and a mage is decided the moment distance is closed.
Furthermore, the martial prowess Dale was displaying as a swordsman was greater than that of a mere aura knight, and even if Walter was a 6th-circle mage, it would make no difference.
However, against a red mage of that caliber, even Dale would have found it difficult to close the distance easily. It was only possible with Sephia's cover, and now that the distance had been closed, the outcome was obvious.
“D-Don't come any closer…!”
The 'Black Prince' stood before him.
The end result of 'an ordinary mage allowing a knight to get too close' was unfolding right there.
The mage was preoccupied with fending off the raging tentacles of the 'Shadow Lurkers,' and Dale surged into the opening. A 'shadow blade' swung at point-blank range, plunging toward Walter of the Bloodflame.
Shh-chak!
Flesh was torn, and blood splattered.
“Aaaaargh!”
Walter shrieked, and Dale tilted his head as if he couldn't understand.
“Why are you screaming?”
Shh-chak!
Again the 'shadow blade' swung, and blood sprayed from Walter's body. A scream of unbearable pain echoed out.
“Isn't this the 'progress achieved through blood' you spoke of?”
Amidst the screams, Dale asked nonchalantly.
“You said the wheels of history turn only through blood.”
He mercilessly swung the shadow blade again, and blood flew. It wasn't a simple, instant-death blow, but a cruel malice wielded solely for the purpose of inflicting 'pain'.
“The 'wheels of history' are turning with your blood. Shouldn't you be happy?”
“Ah, aaah….”
Devoid of any emotion, Dale asked again, having even forgotten the presence of Sephia watching from behind him.
Toward Walter, who was groaning and begging in agony, the shadow blades raged once more. Countless bloody lines were drawn, and drawn again, and drawn over once more. Blood splattered as if a child were scribbling haphazardly on a sketchbook with a blood-red crayon.
“P-Please….”
Walter muttered weakly through the pain.
“K-Kill me….”
Blood flowed, and flowed.
But for Walter of the Bloodflame, a simple death did not come. The wheels of history simply continued to turn, endlessly. Watching this, Dale sneered.
“Wheels that can only be turned through the sacrifice and blood of the innocent are better off shattered.”
So said the destroyer of wheels.
Denying the elder of the Red Magic Tower before him, and by extension, the very zeitgeist of the Red Magic Tower and the Empire.
Shh-chak!
A Shadow Lurker's thorny tentacle pierced through his chest.
The shadow tentacle then split apart, shredding his body to pieces like a grinder.
Faced with the 'Shadow Lurker's' butchery, however, Sephia could only remain silent with a bitter taste in her mouth.
Walter's corpse was torn to shreds and scattered in all directions, and at last, his world vanished.
All that remained was the crystal tundra, now stained with blood.