Chapter 73
Chapter 73
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 73
Chapter Title: The White Tower Master's Proposal
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"Is it really okay to accept an offer like that?"
Geomil's voice.
The White Tower Master sensed the distrust in his tone but didn't let the smile fade from his lips.
Geomil was deeply dissatisfied.
What the hell is good about any of this? He was on the verge of becoming a mere monster breeder.
Geomil and the White Tower Master had successfully negotiated.
The White Tower Master had informed him that the one the ancient dragon Prostia sought would never come here, and the dragon had discarded the golem without a second thought.
The golem collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings severed and was shoved aside into a corner.
This guy's impossible to figure out.
Was he seriously planning to hand a person over to a monster?
He usually seemed so rigid and sensible, but in moments like this, he came off as the epitome of a mage.
And calling him mage-like was no compliment.
They were the sort for whom desires equated to magic and knowledge—and they'd do anything to pursue them.
He'd at least believed the man before him upheld ethics... but how should he judge this behavior today?
"Hey. Is it really okay to accept that kind of offer? Stop grinning and just tell me."
"Ah, my apologies. I was lost in thought for a moment."
Again with that endless pondering.
Geomil clicked his tongue as he waited for a response, and the white mage shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course it's fine to accept."
"It's a monster."
"One of the Eight Monster Kings. Can you really dismiss them as mere monsters?"
"No, what kind of logic is that?"
He acknowledged they were exceptional monsters, but weren't they still monsters all the same?
"Most of them possess intelligence surpassing even humanity's geniuses. Isn't it our intellect that elevates humans above other lifeforms? So do we truly have the right to belittle them as monsters?"
"I have zero interest in debating philosophy with you."
"Hahaha. Fair enough. I suppose not."
Geomil shot him a look like he'd swallowed something rotten and spoke up.
"You're in an awfully good mood today, laughing up a storm."
"How could I not be? Well... to give a proper answer to your earlier question..."
The White Tower Master pondered his response.
'As I thought, his answers so far have been half-hearted.'
Irritation sparked a sudden thirst.
Geomil sullenly gulped down the liquor from the table without a word.
"Are you angry?"
"Put yourself in my shoes."
"My apologies. It's just... encountering the God of Magic has me far too thrilled. Hahaha..."
"God of Magic, my ass. He didn't cast a single spell."
That regeneration wasn't magic. Probably draconic incantation.
But the white mage seemed to see it differently.
"I'd love to debate that point, but it'd stray too far from your original question. So first, to address your doubts: it's perfectly fine to form a contract with Prostia."
"Why?"
"Because at the very least, she's not actively bent on destroying this world."
"What?"
Not actively?
A monster's instinct was pure destruction.
Moreover, the incarnation of Askatloff—one of the Eight Monster Kings he'd witnessed before—was the living embodiment of destructive impulse.
The white mage had said Askatloff was at least somewhat reasonable. Yet even his incarnation had been like that.
Geomil had felt the utter impossibility of human-monster coexistence more acutely than most.
"That's why I said they're not monsters. She's dubbed a Monster King solely out of human fear for her overwhelming power."
Now it was "she." Exasperated, Geomil chugged more liquor, wiped the droplets from his chin, and pressed on.
"Even if that's true, you're just going to let one person die?"
"Hm?"
"That Dre fellow. Prostia wants you to bring him. Whatever her scheme, it can't be anything good, right?"
"Well, he'll die."
The unhesitating reply left Geomil stunned, his face twisting in disgust.
"Hey..."
"Gaining intelligence on a being like Prostia at the cost of one life? That's a massive leap forward for both our dreams. One sacrifice to save many."
The White Tower Master still radiated excitement.
Geomil found that glee endlessly grating.
Despite their long partnership, he was starting to feel it was time to part ways.
"Chasing efficiency, huh? Fitting for a mage."
The white mage shrugged.
Aware of Geomil's deep disappointment and his own overexcitement, he straightened his posture.
"That was a joke."
"What? Sounded dead serious to me."
"Half-serious, perhaps."
"Hey..."
The second "hey."
Geomil's annoyance boiled over.
"Think about it. Even if it was an imperfect descent, he repelled Prostia herself. Her descent rate is dropping—she'll return soon, weakened. You really think he'll lose to her now?"
"......You're right."
"No. He'll probably lose."
Is this guy just messing with me?
Geomil shot him a dissatisfied glare, prompting the White Tower Master to chuckle.
"From what Prostia described of his technique... I can't fathom the principle, but a power resembling invincibility must carry penalties. He can't wield it recklessly."
Geomil agreed on that point.
Enduring an ancient dragon's assault wasn't any ordinary skill.
What both overlooked was Prostia's omission—out of pride—that he'd withstood his ultimate technique.
Had they known, the white mage's assessment would surely shift.
"He can't use it recklessly, but when push comes to shove, he will. Still, I figure that Dre could at least flee from Prostia-nim if it got dire."
"Hm..."
At least it seemed he had no intention of letting Dre die.
"And all these hypotheticals are pointless from the start."
"What? Why?"
The white mage eyed Geomil as if questioning his sincerity.
"Dre and Prostia swore an oath. They can't kill each other."
"......Ah."
Why had he forgotten that?
Probably because the mage before him had been acting so infuriatingly smug.
Embarrassed, Geomil downed more liquor for no reason.
"In any case, though called a Monster King, Prostia is profoundly intellectual and doesn't wreak havoc lightly. She's the ideal trading partner. Far better than your partner, Geomil—at least in my view."
Now adding honorifics.
Tongue clicking inwardly, Geomil conceded the point.
Geomil's trading partner... lacked any shred of humanity.
Though that description might not quite fit. How to put it...
As he scowled, recalling his partner, the White Tower Master urged him on.
"Eat up. I want to head to Sers quickly."
"To meet that Dre guy? How?"
"I have connections."
"Connections are great, but he's an instructor at Prynar Academy. With authority rivaling a king, you think he'll just meet on a whim?"
Geomil recalled the faculty.
Instructors in name only—they were among the world's elite powerhouses.
Monsters matchable only by top-tier outsiders.
And Yedre had joined their ranks.
An outsider despised by this world's natives for his rampages had become the first to earn such a post.
It had to be major news.
Did he even have time for visitors?
The White Tower Master shrugged.
"I'll mobilize every connection I have. That's the perk of sitting as White Tower Master."
"Hmph."
When the White Tower Master carried on so calmly, it meant he had a plan. Geomil let his worries fade.
Personally, Geomil was more intrigued by Dre than Prostia.
From the tales, he was an outrageously virtuous man.
Prostia's recounting of events gave him a rough idea of what had transpired.
Sacrificing himself for others in a life-or-death crisis. What a guy.
Geomil felt an unexpected kinship toward this unseen outsider ally.
With so few normals among those transported to this world, it hit harder.
"The Ten Great Families are the real issue, though..."
"Ah, they're formidable in every sense."
Geomil pictured the head of the darkness-wielding family among the Ten Greats.
The Void family head, steward of Askatloff's forest.
He'd nearly died at that man's hands once.
Even stronger now, victory still seemed unlikely.
Their artifacts rivaled outsider divine privileges, backed by superior bloodlines and prowess.
But that's beside the point.
The Ten Families would likely shield Dre, the one who'd subdued Prostia.
With news of the annihilation dragon's descent contained, they controlled information. A sudden meeting request from someone of the White Tower Master's stature would raise alarms.
After some thought, the White Tower Master spoke.
"We'll probe the Hart Clan."
"Makes sense. They can't be on good terms with Dre."
Crushing the Hart heir's guard knight wouldn't foster friendship.
"It's murky. He did pin down that knight Yulis, but there's word Gold called him 'hyungnim'—big brother."
"Big brother? Not just flattery?"
"I've met Gold. He's got the makings of a great man and despises facades. I'm certain it was genuine."
A glowing review.
"What's your angle?"
"Gold's one thing, but Gald moves purely by profit. Plenty of leverage there."
"......"
To Geomil, the White Tower Master seemed lost in rosy dreams.
And that assessment rang true.
The White Tower Master envisioned building rapport with the God of Magic to learn his spells.
Pair that with merits from her intel... and his grand ambitions could take flight.
Yes, the singular purity...
"Something's nagging at me, though."
"What?"
"That... Prostia. Is it a woman?"
"......"
The white mage blinked.
"No, you keep referring to the dragon as 'she'..."
"It's a matter of perspective."
"What does that even mean..."
The White Tower Master suddenly shook his head.
"Even if she is female, you couldn't have her, Geomil."
"Damn it! That's not what I meant! You think I'm some Gold Sun Clan moron?"
Geomil fumed, then stroked his chin.
"Those bastards... rumors say they screw monsters without batting an eye. Wonder if they'd try it on a Monster King."
"Even unleashing every sex skill they brag about wouldn't faze Prostia-nim. She'd devour them—most agonizingly."
"...Now that I'd pay to see."
Geomil recalled the human scum he'd slaughter if not for his trading partner's ban and downed another drink.
At that moment.
Bang!
Someone slammed their tankard on the table with a resounding crash.
Turning, they saw a burly warrior—sword strapped to his back—glaring at them with a flushed face.
"......"
"Hm."
Geomil stared silently, while the White Tower Master stroked his chin.
Who was this fool?
If a clueless street punk picking a fight oblivious to facing a top outsider ranker and the White Tower Lord, it was manageable.
If a deliberate probe from a rival faction—nobles from their nation or hostile outsiders—that spelled trouble.
"Hey, Ben! What the hell are you doing?!"
A brawler who looked like his companion rushed over, trying to drag him away. Ben didn't budge easily, barely holding ground as he was hauled, the fighter surprisingly strong.
From the looks, just a drunken lout.
"Haa..."
Geomil couldn't help but sigh.
Again with this nonsense.
Bad memories from Prynar Academy kept him from visiting Entiare much.
Thus, some failed to recognize the famed "Continental Sword" Geomil.
A sloshed thug starting shit.
Geomil pondered the optimal thrashing... while feeling a thrill.
Early in his adventures, he'd seemed green, drawing plenty of such challenges. Now mighty, they were rare.
That instant.
"You two... headed for Dre?"
Both men snapped their gazes to him.
"You know Dre?"
"Know him? Like a brother!"
Bang!
He slammed the tankard again, liquor splashing, but neither cared.
"No one's as kind and tough as that guy! We're friends!"
"Hoo. Friends."
Geomil turned fully.
"What business does Dre's friend have with us?"
"...Not curious about him?"
"Very."
Expecting him to peddle friend intel, Geomil felt a brief surge of absurdity.
But Bentler the warrior's next words drew laughs.
"Buy me a round. I'll spill every heroic tale he pulled here. No personal secrets, though."
"Hmm..."
Geomil rose slowly.
He rummaged in his bosom; a soft whoosh birthed a blue circular portal. From it emerged a pouch.
He upended it on the table, unleashing a cascade of gold coins.
Clink clink clink.
The tavern hushed; the owner swallowed greedily as Geomil declared.
"Drinks on me tonight! Barkeep! Get to work!"
"Bro! You're the man!!"
Wooooah!
The tavern erupted.
With his usual poker face, the White Tower Master offered Bentler a seat.
Likely no vital intel, but insights into Dre's character.
Character knowledge proved useful in myriad ways.
Like battle tactics.
Thus passed the raucous night.
And...
A lone bat watched the tavern silently from afar...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ To cut to the chase: we couldn't enter Prynar Academy.
As expected, it perched atop a colossal tree on a floating island, accessible via transparent elevator.
Excited to see the elevator, but denied at the gate.
Because of me?
Downhearted.
Noticing my slump, the gate clerk hurriedly clarified.
"No, sir—even excluding the principal and vice-principal, no one can enter right now."
"I heard only the vice-principal's grounds were damaged?"
"Magical anomalies have rendered the entire campus highly dangerous."
The flustered clerk—a mere civilian—couldn't even meet Gold's eyes.
Gold would normally shrug it off coolly, but today he pressed.
"What now? My self-proclaimed little sister built up her big bro's hopes, and now we can't even get close?"
"Shut it, El."
"You shut it, Gold."
Ah, so it was about me?
I tugged Gold's arm.
"It's fine. We'll come back once things settle."
"But..."
"I think roaming with Gold-nim sounds more fun anyway."
"......"
Gold abruptly spun, beaming smugly down at El.
El stomped furiously, grinding her teeth.
Stop fighting, you two...
With today's mishap, we opted to browse the shopping district more before heading back.
Not fruitless, though.
Unexpectedly, I could guess why Prynar Academy lay in ruins.
That destructive aura wafting from afar.
Not the entity itself, mere residue—yet unmistakable.
That raw intensity.
Prostia's power.
...Why'd that lizard come all the way here?
To see me? Nah, no way.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "I'm back!"
"Ooh! My boy's home!"
Gald beamed, unusually casual in his delight at his son's return.
The outing with Dre must've been a blast.
As a father, he'd fretted over wasting his son's scant holiday entertaining a guest—but if it healed him, fine.
"Got tons to talk about today. First off, anything you want to know about Laiyet... Hm?"
Gold's eyes drifted to Gald's desk.
Gald hastily shielded it with his bulk.
"Er-hem. Son, how about we grab something tasty—it's been ages—and chat?"
"Mm... Sounds good!"
Suspicion lingered, but out of respect for paternal dignity, Gold relented.
Still, his gaze nailed the papers Gald had tried to conceal: Graize's regular report.
Click.
Door shut behind him, Gald exhaled in relief—then glared balefully at the documents.
Striding over, he snatched them up and sighed again.
Thus it read:
📄 Regular Report Confirmed sighting of outsider Continental Sword Geomil and White Tower Master in Milf Village. Presumed contact with Prostia. Gleaned Yedre intel from Adventurer's Guild Rank 6 adventurer Bentler Bog at tavern. Current objective presumed: contact with outsider Dre. 'Outsider Killer' Almiraz surveilling Geomil and White Tower Master. Appears unaware of Dre. All three en route to capital Sers. Exercise caution. We will handle accordingly. What did "we will handle" even imply? It only bred unease.
"What exactly do you plan to do, Leor?"
Continental Sword, White Tower Master, and the notorious "Outsider Killer" Almiraz converging.
A storm loomed.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ A first for her.
Agonizing a full day over outfits to meet a man—not even a date, just a government office visit.
"...Argh!"
Irked by the absurdity, Asita nonetheless picked her clothes, buzzing with anticipation for tomorrow's meeting with Dre.