Immense Elation
An immense elation surged through me. At the same time, a portion of Fortega's emotions and memories flowed into me as well.
Forte's feelings were mostly resentment toward the Magic Tower and the world. And though I couldn't explain it precisely, it seemed I'd also gained a fragment of his profound understanding of magic. The theories and formulas in Fortega's memories would have been incomprehensible to me before, but now they came to me effortlessly.
"Tch! Useless." The Magic Tower Lord rummaged through Fortega's belongings and body, clicked his tongue in disgust when he found nothing, and vanished just as abruptly as he'd appeared.
Gazing at Fortega's corpse, left abandoned after the lord's departure, I vowed revenge. I didn't delude myself into thinking I could pull off some grand act of retribution, but I wanted him to pay even a little.
I returned to the Magic Tower. My routine didn't change much. I continued absorbing the mages' knowledge and spying on their research. The daily grind remained the same, but the results were dramatically different.
Thanks to Fortega, my heightened magical insight provided answers to concepts I'd only memorized without truly grasping before. Now, I understood nearly everything—and could even distinguish flawed knowledge from the correct kind.
The field that captured my interest most upon returning was the wide-area magic research, overseen by the Magic Tower Lord himself and no fewer than five elders.
This spell aimed to plunge temperatures to extremes across a radius of over five kilometers—a project that had been underway for quite some time, with recent progress.
Even a grand archmage like the Tower Lord couldn't handle the mana input alone, so the design called for a magic circle powered by five high mages channeling mana into it.
Earlier attempts had scaled it down for solo casting, but they'd concluded it wouldn't yield satisfactory power without a grand archmage, leading to this revision.
Before, I'd only glanced at it without comprehension. Now, I fully understood it—and even grasped exactly where and how to draw lines on the emerging magic circle to make it activate.
Drawing a magic circle is grueling work. Simple ones for basic spells are easy enough, but complexity escalates exponentially with each tier.
The circle the elders were crafting equated to over a hundred million 1-circle arrays linked together, with every elder pitching in.
That night, after the elders finished and left, the workshop stood empty—a rare occurrence. Despite layers of high-level wards for utmost security, they meant nothing to me.
Absorbing Fortega's soul had granted me a tiny ability to wield mana. Feeble enough that I couldn't cast even a single 1-circle spell, but sufficient to draw one stroke of a magic circle.
And that single stroke would bring tremendous change.
I lifted the mana pen, regulated my scant mana, and drew the stroke in the prepared spot. Simple enough. I'd even tapped into my soul power for it, but without meticulous inspection, it wouldn't be noticed.
Not that it mattered if it was. What could they do to a soul like me?
I resumed life at the Magic Tower as if nothing had happened, occasionally checking the workshop to ensure my trap remained intact.
Soon, vacation ended, and I returned to the academy. Night strolls gave way to more Magic Tower visits. And as my second year drew to a close, the Tower Lord and elders finally carried the inscribed plate away for an activation test.
News spread of a massive explosion in the uninhabited southern forests of the kingdom. The Tower Lord and elders never returned.
[Revenge is yours, Fortega.]
I climbed to the Magic Tower's pinnacle and sang a long dirge for his departing soul.
My life returned to normal. I shuttled between the academy, markets, palace, and tower, devouring knowledge. My improved comprehension proved invaluable.
By my third year at the academy, the crown prince ascended the throne. The king wasn't ill; he'd never been enthusiastic about governance and recognized his son's talent.
In truth, the prince's machinations played a major role—everyone knew it, but no one spoke up.
As his soul's color suggested, the new king wasn't particularly virtuous. Before succession, he'd purged or weakened key opposition through intrigue.
Even so, Isabel enjoyed his immense favor—thanks in large part to me. I still fed her useful tidbits now and then.
Soon after, she was formally enfeoffed as a consort. Not queen, but a fine advancement, and she seemed content.
[Congratulations.]
I visited the newly titled Isabel to offer greetings and well-wishes. She beamed and welcomed me warmly.
"It's all thanks to you, Soul."
She still called me simply "Soul." No need to share my mortal name with her dead body in mind.
[The king's consort isn't decided yet?]
"His Majesty said he'll take his time. Seems no suitable match."
Finding a queen isn't simple. Even for a king long past marriageable age without a formal union, it signaled deeper troubles beyond ministerial incompetence.
[No foreign princesses fit the bill?]
"Apparently not."
Had he wanted a great noble's daughter, it'd be done. But domestic power held no further appeal.
[This is an even better chance for you. Hurry and bear a son.]
Isabel's cheeks flushed crimson.
"It's not up to me."
But I already knew. Peering into a person's womb was no great feat.
[No, you're already pregnant. Can't tell if it's a boy or girl yet.]
"Really?!"
Isabel leaped to her feet in joy.
[You must take care now.]
"Oh! Right."
Her delight lifted my spirits too, and we chatted endlessly—tales from the tower and markets, rare academy happenings. Palace-bound by choice or circumstance, she savored such stories.
"Soul?"
[Yes?]
"Could you name this child?"
[Doesn't the king need to approve first?]
"His Majesty probably won't object."
I pondered. A child's name—my own son hadn't gotten one from me in life. My father chose it. I'd hoped for thoughtful effort, but his on-the-spot pick disappointed me.
[Next time, I'll come with a name. If the king insists on his own, it'll be moot anyway.]
"Thank you, Soul."
A week later, I returned to the palace. I'd agonized over the name during that time. Not just any child—this one could be prince or princess of the realm. If a son, a likely future king. Me naming him? Quite the ascent.
[Ether for a boy, Elizabeth for a girl.]
Isabel was purely delighted. Surprisingly, the king approved without fuss, viewing me as some royal guardian spirit.
After hundreds of options, I'd settled on my own mortal name and that of my beloved wife.
Months later, it was a boy. Odd feeling, my name from a futile death etched into kingdom history.
A few months more, and Isabel birthed a healthy prince. Palace bells rang; the capital erupted in festival.
Time passed; the king finally wed formally—a third princess from a distant kingdom, just thirteen. Terrified young queen wed to foreign soil, Isabel embraced her like a little sister. The queen treated Isabel as an elder sibling; they seemed a perfect pair.
Meanwhile, I'd reached my sixth and final year at the academy—graduation looming.
Could I truly ascend upon graduating? My knowledge far surpassed a mere alumnus.
Swordsmanship required a body I lacked, but theory and forms were perfected in memory. Beyond academy fare, I'd stolen techniques from capital sword houses and royal guards, including aura methods—my theory outstripped them all.
Magic was the Magic Tower's essence compounded with Fortega's insight; in pure knowledge, I rivaled high mages. Shame about scant mana and inability to wield it.
I'd nearly mastered every academy subject too. With these gifts in life, top honors would have been effortless.
Lately, palace visits multiplied. Prince Ether, bearing my name, astonishingly heard me like Isabel.
[Hello, Ether.]
"Soul-niim!"
Ether adored me. Most infants would fear an invisible voice, but whether from Isabel's teachings or innate medium blood, who knew? Anyway, his affection drew me often.
[Eaten yet?]
"Yummy food!"
His maids no longer startled at the prince's "soliloquies," knowing better.
No deep discourse, but time flew in these chats. Lately, I lost track of its flow—perhaps a side effect of five ghostly years.
While playing with Ether, Isabel and the queen arrived, inseparable as sisters.
[All well lately, Isabel?]
Courtesy question; I knew it was.
"Thanks to you, Soul, everything's peaceful."
True enough. I tracked threats to Isabel and Ether relentlessly, exposing nobles—over ten purged on my word. Spies and underworld scum in palace and capital? Countless caught.
A true guardian spirit. I rarely saw the king, but Isabel said he was profoundly grateful. Naturally.
I'd even told Isabel I might ascend in a year. Her expression was profoundly conflicted—celebrate or mourn?
Regardless, if graduation freed my grudge, I'd do all I could before then. She was my sole conversant mortal, mother to my namesake.
"But Soul, do you know?"
[Know what?]
"They say this palace has three legends."