Chaotic Entrance Ceremony (Part 7)
A memory of my time at the Magic Tower unexpectedly surfaces.
It was a place where, so long as you produced results, they would praise and elevate you above all others. But the very second your achievements fell short—or ceased altogether—they no longer treated you as human. That was what the Red Magic Tower was.
Because the tower held such prestigious renown, those lacking the magical talent to enter, or those born of humble origins, looked upon it with deep yearning. Yet I was certain of one thing: the moment anyone like that actually set foot inside, every trace of that longing would vanish. It was hell. It was a graveyard of knowledge, crammed with people willing to throw away their very lives simply to pry into the secrets of the world and reach a marginally higher realm.
“…”
Even among them, I used to think I was special. Other mages might have scoffed if they had heard me say it, but I genuinely believed I was gifted. In truth, I possessed a talent that none among my peers could hope to match. That was why I craved recognition so desperately. Whenever the elders and researchers showered me with praise after every breakthrough, it felt as though I finally had a reason to exist.
It did not take long, however, for that illusion to shatter.
No matter how immense one’s talent might be, no one can study magic relentlessly until they drop dead. One day, instead of researching, I slipped out to play. That evening, the Tower Master scolded me so brutally that I couldn't even swallow a bite of food. He told me that a mage destined to lead the future of the tower had no business succumbing to petty distractions, and that I had to pursue higher realms of magic without pause.
By the time I was old enough to understand the world, my parents were already gone. I had been an orphaned girl facing nothing but starvation or being sold off, so I had thrown myself into my studies out of sheer gratitude toward the tower for taking me in. Yet that day, for the first time in my life, I rebelled against the elders.
At first, it was nothing more than petty defiance—a sulking child wanting to show the elders how hurt she was after working so hard, only to be denied a single day of rest.
Yet the instant I displayed the slightest hint of defiance, the elders revealed their true faces.
The smiles they had once worn twisted into the sneers of demons. The praise they had once lavished upon me curdled into vicious curses and biting fury. Even the meager sliver of free time I had been permitted was stripped away entirely. The shock broke me. Paralyzed by fear, I spent the following years studying magic in dead silence, never daring to raise my voice again.
Time passed until I was old enough to fend for myself.
After putting into motion an escape plan I had spent years preparing in secret, I slipped away from the Red Magic Tower and stepped out into the wider world. The world smiled upon me. Though I lacked practical combat experience, my overwhelming talent ensured that I easily earned more than enough coin to live comfortably as an adventurer. But as the days drifted by in quiet complacency, a deep sense of skepticism took root within me.
What are the people in the tower even trying to achieve by researching magic so obsessively? What do they hope to gain from going to such extremes? Do they really think they can uncover all the knowledge in existence? Is such a thing even possible?
I would return to my lodgings intending to conduct some research of my own, but a run-down village inn had no grimoires, making any serious study impossible. I could have started over from scratch, but with all my past research materials lost, where was I even supposed to begin? Deprived of a purpose, I sank into endless brooding, wrestling with the question of why I was alive at all. I wondered what I had lived for all these years, and what I was supposed to do with the days ahead.
Not long after those doubts began consuming me, the attack came.
The Red Magic Tower had never intended to let a prized talent go. They tracked my whereabouts across the continent and attempted to drag me back by force. After an agonizing pursuit, the haven I finally reached was the Academy. No one could touch me here. As long as I remained a student under the protection of this institution, not even the mighty Red Magic Tower could lay a finger on me. And so I clung to the Academy, settling into the comfort of absolute safety.
I never should have become so complacent.
Whenever I close my eyes, that moment rushes back with unbearable clarity.
I see Aria throwing herself forward to shield me, bearing the brunt of that devastating strike. I see her academy uniform soaked crimson, and blood blossoming like cruel flowers across her pale, platinum-blonde hair. During my brief stint as an adventurer, I hadn't been a stranger to corpses; though it had unsettled me at first, most were long-dead remains, and aside from those, it was only monsters that I watched die. But this was the first time I had ever witnessed someone I knew—someone precious—throw themselves in harm's way to take a wound meant for me.
And of all people, it had to be her.
She was the very first person who had ever treated me with genuine warmth. Despite being blind and deaf, and despite my utter failure to show her even the most basic courtesy—rudeness that would have justified her snapping at me in anger—Aria had responded only with gentle kindness. That fragile girl had thrown herself between me and a High Demon, taking the blow in my stead.
Even while suffering injuries that would have killed an ordinary person instantly, she had forced a reassuring smile just to put me at ease. The memory of that smile haunted me, clawing at my chest until I could barely breathe. Back then, overwhelmed by the horror of believing someone had died because of me, combined with the sheer terror of the demon and the certainty of my own demise, I had lost consciousness. But miraculously, Aria had survived.
When I had seen her locked in battle with that creature, I had rushed in hoping to help. I thought that no matter how extraordinary the Saint was, facing a High Demon all alone would be too much. When I checked with my magic, she had truly appeared pushed to her limits. Knowing that I couldn't defeat such a beast even if I intervened, I had scattered my mana far and wide in hopes of signaling for reinforcements. I knew I might be utterly useless, but I couldn't bear to stand by and watch her fight alone.
That had been my intention when I leaped into the fray.
Yet in the end, all I managed to do was cause her even greater harm, nearly driving her to her death. She hadn't even needed to suffer such gruesome wounds, yet she had hurled her own body into the line of fire just to protect me. If only I hadn't interfered... If only I hadn't succumbed to the reckless arrogance of worrying about the Academy when I couldn't even protect myself, none of this would have happened.
Deep down, I had believed I was a genius—a prodigy whose magical prowess was second to none. It was that sickening conceit that had clouded my judgment. And this was the price. If Headmaster Arhen hadn't arrived when she did, every single one of us would have perished on that spot. All because of one wretched, foolish mistake on my part. I had nearly murdered the Hero and the Saint of this era.
I was no gifted mage.
‘You worthless wrench.’
The elders had been right. I was a completely useless thing that contributed nothing to this world.
‘All you need to do is research magic.’
Maybe it would have been better if I had listened. Wouldn't it be far more fitting to accept that I was nothing more than a cog in the Red Magic Tower, existing solely to grind out research until I died? Wouldn't living like that suit someone as pathetic as me?
‘If it’s going to be like this, I should just…’
I should just go back to the tower. The thought gripped me with terrifying sincerity. I had no right to remain here. Everyone had nearly died because of me. Because of my arrogance, the world had almost lost both its Hero and its Saint, plunging toward utter annihilation. The appearance of a high-ranking demon meant that the Demon King’s resurrection was drawing near, yet I had nearly extinguished the only two souls capable of standing against that calamity with my own hands.
Rather than committing another unforgivable sin, wouldn't it be right to return to the tower I hated so fiercely, dedicating the rest of my life to researching spells that might benefit the world, just to atone? That was the only fate befitting someone like me—
“[Sister Stella.]”
…
Had I finally lost my mind? Perhaps the guilt had driven me mad enough that I was hearing things. After I had ruined everything and nearly cost her life, there was no reason in the world for her to speak to me. Or perhaps... perhaps she was calling out to blame me. If that were true, it would almost be a relief.
“[Sister Stella…]”
Ah... please, let it be an auditory hallucination. Please, tell me it isn't real...
With trembling eyes, I looked toward the faint rustle of movement.
“Ah... ugh...”
Aria was standing there. Unable to meet her gaze, I whipped my head away. Every time I looked at her, the horrific memories of that battle rushed back to drown me. I kept seeing her face as she bled out, smiling at me as if to say none of it was my fault. That smile tore through my mind, driving me half-insane with agonizing guilt, until I felt like dying on the spot.
“Please don't come any closer... please...”
Hate me. Blame me. It was all my fault.
I’m sorry... Saintess... Please... please don't forgive me...