Magic Tower (4): The Genius Submits

Theo Jain was the quintessential mage born and raised in the Magic Tower. The only difference from other mages was his absurd talent. From birth, a magic circle had already taken root in his heart, and he learned magic faster than language. A peerless genius who flew around using levitation magic before he could even walk. A ridiculous talent that allowed him to wield spells through ambient mana even with his own limited reserves.

Thanks to that gift, Theo's perceptiveness sharpened incredibly fast. One might say he naturally grasped the flow of mana around him once he could manipulate it. So when the Magic Tower was first assaulted...

"...!"

From his instincts to the surrounding mana—everything warned Theo not to step outside. An overwhelming killing intent he'd never felt in his life. In its face, Theo could do nothing but huddle in the corner, layering spells to suppress his presence.

For someone like Theo, who had never even experienced a minor scuffle, a life-or-death battle was an abstract terror. He couldn't even fathom fighting back against the unknown. His thoughts reached that point, and he hugged his knees, burying his face between them.

What the hell is out there?

The only sounds were the hearty laughter of mages. And that only deepened Theo's fear. In a situation where they should have been overwhelmingly favored just by the noise...

Why were his instincts and mana screaming not to go out?

The mystery resolved itself quickly.

Slash!

The veil of secrecy, which no one but the Magic Tower Lord could pierce, tore apart. And Theo clearly captured the gaze of the one who emerged.

'The... Crown Prince...!'

Mages operate on rational yet deeply subjective—and thus contradictory—algorithms. Tower Lord Archibald had moved based on his subjective rationalization that the entire Magic Tower could surely defeat the Crown Prince, only to lose.

And Theo...

"Proceed with living staff conversion."

"Yes! Yes! Your Highness! As if there could be any hesitation! We'll dismantle these fools right away, leave them just enough for basic life functions, and turn them into living staffs!"

Through his own rationalization laced with extreme subjectivity, he concluded he must never defy the Crown Prince.

Mirne? Of course he liked her. But that affection wouldn't sustain his life. Right now, the Crown Prince was furious at the mages.

They'd been siphoning the national treasury and even deploying Perception Impairment Magic. Rebelling in that context? It'd be weirder if he wasn't pissed.

So he had to grovel. Until when? 'Until His Highness the Crown Prince forgives the mages... I must grovel and survive.'

He didn't entertain foolish thoughts about when this rage might end. Just survive the moment. There might not be a tomorrow.

The power of Sol Bellos, who devoured magic. He had no clue how it worked. Was it even magic? Even if learned from a dragon, how was that level possible? Unknowable.

The unknown breeds fear. Fear is an essential emotion for human survival. That's why Theo found his current terror frightening yet strangely welcome.

Look at his former "colleagues" scattered around.

"Huuuuh... Uuuuuh..."

"S-save... me... pleaase..."

"M-mercy... please... mercy... life... we'll serve... as s-slaves... to the best..."

Those who forgot fear and resisted paid dearly. The Tower Lord was no different.

A unique magic system independent of dragon magic? Magic optimized for humans alone? Intricate magic circles born from countless studies? Achievements worthy of being called epochal discoveries? All meaningless.

The Magic Tower, an ivory tower of knowledge just an hour ago, was gone. The sanctuary where mages researched with the sky at their feet no longer existed. From now on, this was imperial soil.

Shiver, shiver, shiver.

As reality ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠slowly sank in through his skin...

"...Do we really need to make them living staffs? Just slap a restraint seal on their heads. The severity of their crimes will determine the seal's level, and those truly ignorant will get a chance to live as imperial citizens."

The Crown Prince spoke as if he had no intention of committing such cruelties. A simple exploding-head seal for disobedience would suffice.

This was an incredibly positive signal for Theo.

'Ah! His Highness the Crown Prince is so humane!'

At least when he eventually fell from the Crown Prince's grace and died, it wouldn't be ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in eternal agony but a swift end.

"Theo, assist Arbeda. Obey her every word unconditionally."

"Yes, sir!"

And assisting a dragon—the pinnacle of magic—at her side? An incredible opportunity.

"I'll give it my absolute best! I'll be a mage—no, a staff who works tirelessly so as not to displease Your Highness!"

"Haha, if you perform well, I'll make you my first staff."

"Truly, truly, truly honored!!!"

Theo meant every word. Just minutes—or days?—ago, these were people he'd laughed with. Seniors already walking the path he now had to follow. All dying around him, yet he emerged unscathed. Obey well, and he'd thrive as the first staff? What greater fortune?

In that moment, it hit Theo like lightning.

'Ah! I'm one lucky bastard!'

Never rebel. Ever!

Honestly, at first he'd expected blind rebellion. The Second Prince had done it, the Eastern Archduke, the Northern Archduke too.

But what was this?

"May I ask what to call you, milady?!"

"...Hm, since His Highness the Crown Prince assigned you as my assistant, call this lady your master."

"Yes, Master!"

He obeyed too perfectly. Over-the-top actions bordering on excess. He could guess why. His laughing comrades from moments ago were all barbecued, one step from death. Better to loosen one's grip on sanity than stay compos mentis. A wisely mage-like choice.

"My son?"

"...A child fallen from the heavens. Blessed..."

"Spontaneous generation? From infancy?"

"Y-yes..."

So that's why the mood shifted so fast. If truly family, blood ties might spark rage. Like the current Eastern Archduke. No flipped eyes, just instant groveling. Whatever his backstory, Theo seemed an outlier even among tower mages.

'Makes sense as a male lead. Special treatment's par for the course.'

But.

"Th-Theo... why... we were friends..."

"...A mere unnumbered staff dares heed... a human's words...?"

That specialness seemed invested a bit too heavily in madness. Obeying too perfectly, too much the eager lackey.

'As long as he doesn't scheme behind my back, no issue.'

Even if he did, it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wouldn't matter. Arbeda had slammed the strongest restraint seal straight into his skull. Any funny thoughts, instant death.

'No need to chat with Theo now anyway. Heading to the palace soon.'

No time for him now.

"Archibald, you were hostile to the empire... Planning to drain it dry and flee to Maserin?"

Time for a proper talk with Archibald, the tower's chief administrator. Arbeda had restored him just enough to converse.

Archibald stared blankly before slowly opening his mouth.

"Y-yes... that's right."

"Why? Why Maserin of all places after sucking the empire's coffers dry? Because of Theo's crush?"

Unlike the Second Prince or the archdukes, the tower hadn't blindly pledged to Maserin. The mages wore expensive jewelry, sure. But Theo showed no fervent love like the other male leads.

'Switch bases over mere fondness? Doesn't add up.'

After draining the treasury, logic dictated moving somewhere with decent funds—not necessarily richer than the empire, but solvent. Suddenly Maserin? A place demanding support? Suspicious.

Hence the question.

"That's part of it, but..."

"But?"

"The core reason is... we sensed Maserin Kingdom's land veins were superior."

"Land veins?"

The answer birthed more questions.

"Magic demands precise calculations yet also strong intuition."

"So, no basis—just a gut pull to Maserin?"

"Yes. We felt we'd surely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠gain there."

"You and everyone?"

"Yes."

Continent-wide hypnosis of "Maserin rocks!"? Not entirely odd, though. The protagonist's homeland, bloated with favoritism to the point of bursting. Fitting the setting.

'Must-aid-Maserin... embedded in the unconscious?'

Thoughts sorted.

"I expect your dedication as an imperial staff from now on."

"...Thank you for sparing my life."

I ordered Archibald to assemble the mages who hadn't arrived yet.

"You'll live as staves, not humans. Speak now if you refuse—I'll let you die as humans."

"..."

Perhaps weighed by my words, the mages humbly accepted their fate.

'Quite the number.'

As sealed mages sealed the unsealed in a chain, gathering before me, I realized they exceeded a thousand easily. Simple math: divide by three for north, center, east.

'Come to think of it, northern front lately, eastern side too—manpower shortages mentioned.'

Recall banquet chatter of plots in the east. Dealing with pirates required hands, but barely-human east couldn't handle it.

"Perfect."

"...?"

"Archibald."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"I'll use you specially as my magic drone number one."

"Wh-what does that...?"

Found the ideal for this job.

"You'll serve as the empire's cleaners for a while."

Not just that—deteriorating public security too. Entrust it all to these staves.

Foreign intel units slithering in, they'd said.

"Sealed mages, descend to the ground now. Live as staves."

Time to deploy these free slaves who ran on scraps.

"Come on! No hesitation! If it looks like you, get down quick! His Highness's words ring true, don't they?!"

"..."

Theo's eager herding was a bonus.

With matters settled, as I prepared to return to the palace...

Extremely welcome messages greeted me. Finally. For the first time.

'Ha.'

A direct middle finger to Maserin Kingdom.

Snag one obedient staff, and you can flip them off like this?

'Kill or enslave.'

Now another option besides killing male leads.

But.

'The saint's an exception.'

Any saint rebelling against the empire gets dealt with. No mercy.