Homecoming Fanfare

The experimental results for each grade of magic stone were as follows.

"I had thought the results would differ by grade, but it seems there is a limit," Isra observed.

"What you see isn't everything."

I gave the soul stone crafted from an A-rank magic stone a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠light tap. Through my Spirit Eye, the energy was unmistakably denser in the one built on an A-rank base. Crossing the grades the system itself had drawn was simply not easy.

"Using an S-rank magic stone might yield a higher grade still," she mused.

"I doubt it."

"It would be because of your comprehension and Master's own ability," Ingrid put in.

"That's Ingrid for you."

Having her pick up on things without a word of explanation was a real comfort.

"The power to house a baek—truly wondrous," Alfons murmured, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe.

Eek.

Those were the eyes of a man ready to chain me to this place for life.

"Ahem, ahem. Why so startled?"

"It's nothing, sir."

"You old goat. Looking at the lad that slyly is bound to give him a fright."

"That is how it appears to the eyes of the ignorant!"

By now the two of them bickering felt almost familiar. Maybe I was starting to understand why pride had driven them to make me their proxy. The whole scene reeked of schoolyard rivalry so strongly that I decided not to think about it any further.

I!

Stopped thinking about it!

"Let's just make more soul stones."

Muttering to myself, I pulled out another magic stone. This was the place where Alfons's memories lingered thickest. Was I really going to miss an event site where the baek of the Twelve Heroes could be copied?

Making a few soul stones wasn't going to wreck the office, so I meant to pull as many as I could manage.

"Would not only mages receive the benefit?" Isra asked.

"Don't worry. We've got the Death Blacksmith."

One of the structures settled inside the Death Blacksmith—the Cursed Tombstone—could alter the nature of a soul stone. I had never expected to use it this way, but still. Soul stones refined from traces of the Twelve Heroes… If I used them in undead crafting, they ought to perform even better than split soul stones, right?

Ah.

I could hardly wait. My fingers itched with the urge to start experimenting right that second.

"Hoo. Settle down."

No time to stand around like this. Chop those soul stones and squeeze every last drop of value out of them!

The chaotic exchange match wrapped up without any real trouble.

"I refuse to accept this! Young Minho is not even your disciple!"

"So who won, then? Or did you fail to notice that a sword cut through magic?"

"Grrk!"

I had only spent a single day with them, and already I was used to the two elders snarling at each other. At this rate, the name "Twelve Heroes" was going to make me laugh first and think second. What was I supposed to do about that?

Alfons presented me with a luxurious metal watch.

"A timepiece that marks one as a person of honor of the Clock Tower."

"This is far too precious a gift, sir."

"Heh heh heh. It means you are welcome to visit whenever you wish. The tower's doors will always be open."

A gift with a spoonful of obligation mixed in. Even so, I felt genuine gratitude. Backing from the Clock Tower was something I could put to use anywhere.

"P-P-P-Please!!!"

Emilia came charging in with terrifying force and thrust something out as well. I had already given her an autograph at the start, though… Curious, I looked at what she was holding.

"That's a phone."

"Your contact information! Give it to me!"

"Yes, ma'am."

I-I shall provide it. Under that overwhelming pressure I keyed in my number without even thinking.

Bzzzzzt—!

The phone immediately spat out a vibration. No need to ask who was calling; it was Emilia.

"Save it! You must!"

"Yes, ma'am."

All I could do was agree.

"I will definitely come find you in Korea!"

She only enunciated every syllable this clearly when it mattered most. Fan passion was a truly terrifying thing.

"I gained a great deal this time," I said.

"With a little more training, you should be able to awaken Aura," Isra told me.

"Oh. For real?"

"When you overcame and mastered the sword's lingering will, you must have felt something."

Felt something, huh. Channeling my mana into it had been different from simple "release," that much was true. So that was the direction that led toward Aura.

"Hmph. For the time being, you will be focusing on magic training," Ingrid cut in, thorns she could not hide bristling in her voice.

Looks like the competitive fire had well and truly caught.

"Hahaha! I shall show mercy and yield for now."

"What mercy are you talking about?"

"Do your best, magic-monger."

Communing with a weapon and grasping the first thread of Aura was no small achievement—but the most direct result of all was discovering the mechanism for crafting soul stones.

"Eheheh, eheheheh."

Unique-grade soul stones — twenty-five of them.

That was how many I had made in the tower master's office. When I tried to craft still more, the skill simply refused to activate, declaring that this was not the proper place. Even a baek was not infinite, I supposed.

That was fine. I could visit Director Jeong's office or residence. Failing that, I could make extra soul stones when I went to collect my reward from Sir Gerard.

"There is no law that says they must be made from a master's records alone," I said.

"Collecting the baek of powerful individuals would probably produce better results," Ingrid pointed out.

She had a point.

"Well, let's take the experiments slowly."

There was still a lot about soul stone crafting conditions that had not been revealed. Research to do stacked up by the handful. Homework seemed to pile higher every day, but I did not mind the feeling.

"Thank you for coming today. It has been a day where both sides gained much," Alfons said.

"Master Alfons—would it be all right if we looked around the Clock Tower a little before we go?"

The whole reason we had come to Prague was tourism. Since things had gone this way and we had missed the famous sights, we could at least see the Clock Tower, right?

"O-Oppa!"

Mijeong's eyes welled up. Come to think of it, she had said she longed to see the Clock Tower. I had not asked for her sake in particular, but it worked out well all the same.

"Keh keh keh. I shall guide you myself."

Oh my. How overwhelming. With the tower master personally showing us around, most of the sections were free passes.

"This is the library where magical theories are collected," he explained.

"The volume of material is enormous."

The books I had seen on the first floor were nothing. My jaw dropped at a stock of volumes that put any ordinary library to shame.

"One computer would do the job. What a waste of space," Isra muttered.

"Tsk tsk. Your brain is pure muscle. Magic requires dignity."

"You? Dignity?"

There they went again. Please stop fighting and just keep explaining, you two.

"This is no ordinary library," Alfons said, stretching both arms toward the ceiling. "A hunter who has registered their mana wavelength with the tower can find tailored materials here."

Whoosh!

A single book flew into his hand.

Oh.

Ooooh!

That had style!

"It's passable," Ingrid said with a blank face.

A system even the strongest of the Witch Order would acknowledge… Truly worthy of a mage collective that ranked first or second in the world.

"Then I shall show you the next place."

We saw mages engaged in joint research, others sparring, and still others running experiments that looked frankly dangerous.

"Not bad for a world that only recently learned of magic," Ingrid remarked.

"There are items like skill books, after all."

"Even so, they have a long way to go before catching up to the knowledge the Witch Order has built."

The Witch of the Solar Eclipse passed down knowledge accumulated across generations. Ingrid's confidence had solid ground under it.

After the Clock Tower tour, we finally managed to see a little of Prague on the last day.

"Wouldn't it be a bit of a waste to head straight home?" President Baek said.

President Baek. You are taking this trip way too seriously.

"Yesssss!"

"When will we ever get another chance to visit Prague?"

With the support team friends looking that happy, what choice did I have? So on the final day of the European trip, we set every thought down and simply enjoyed ourselves. Once we got home, we would be too busy to blink.

"You two enjoy yourselves properly as well," I told my summons.

"Haha. For me, the greatest joy is attending upon my Lord."

"Don't kill the mood. Just eat some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ice cream."

"Hmm, hmmm. This is a most peculiar flavor."

After touring Prague, I spent the night analyzing the Bloodstained Longsword of the Fallen Knight.

"You ought to get some rest," Isra said.

"After tomorrow I won't be able to touch this sword."

I had promised Sir Isra. I would craft a weapon worthy of her with my own hands. The structure of the Bloodstained Longsword of the Fallen Knight. The history and soul-records dwelling in the blade. I had to read as much as I could and burn it into my mind—so that I could make a sword that truly suited her.

And so the last night of the European journey passed.

Korea, after half a month away.

"Urgh."

I stretched both arms wide while waiting my turn for immigration. The trip through Europe had been wonderful, but the way Hangul written everywhere settled my heart told me I was still a Korean through and through. Living abroad would be too inconvenient. Even if someone offered me immigration, I had already decided in my heart that the occasional trip would be enough.

"Hunter Park. Are you prepared?"

"Pardon?"

"The moment we step outside, an enormous crowd will be waiting."

"P-President. You didn't mobilize the fan club, did you?"

"I did nothing of the sort."

President Baek waggled his phone. On the screen was a post on social media—an update from Emilia.

E… Emiliaaaaa!!!!

"Don't worry. Even without this post, word would have gotten out," President Baek said.

"Eh? Why?"

"Did you not notice the reporters blanketing every place we went?"

"I had no idea."

Thanks to Heavenly Martial Body I had known people's attention was fixed on me. I just had not realized reporters were mixed into that crowd.

"These are all articles that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠came out across Europe."

A few scrolls of his finger revealed a staggering pile of coverage—photos of our party shot in completely different locations. This was full-on paparazzi treatment.

"You did not know?" Isra asked.

"Sir, if you knew, why stay quiet?"

"When people wish to praise my Lord's greatness, is there any need to stop them?"

"Hoho. What a fine attitude," Ingrid said.

The two subordinates I had summoned after clearing immigration offered nothing but aggravating answers.

"So there will be the fan club and reporters both."

"Yes. For the press, I have already arranged interviews with selected outlets, so you need not worry."

"Thank yo…?"

Wait a second. Arranged in advance? That meant he had already spoken to the media!

"Yes. It was never going to stay hidden, so I called them."

President Baek. Even you!

Could you maybe mention that kind of thing a little earlier?!

"If I had told you, you would have panicked, would you not?"

"I could at least have prepared myself mentally!!"

Ugh. Not a single person I could trust.

"We'll be right beside you clapping our hardest," the support team said.

"Oppa, fighting!"

The support team friends quietly edged backward. I was so touched I could cry. Really.

Vmmm—

The automatic doors opened, and exactly as President Baek had warned, a massive throng was waiting for me. The fan club from the promotion exam, plus reporters, plus everyone else in the airport. Hundreds? No—counting the gawkers, it had to be in the thousands.

"Hunter Park Minho! You broke the all-time record in the Tower of Chaos this time!"

"Please share your thoughts on bringing glory to the nation!"

"Tell us the secret to clearing the entire Tower of Chaos!"

Reporters raised their voices from every direction, and—

"One, two, three!"

"Milky-white Park Minho!!!"

"One, two, three!"

"Flash, flash! Knight of the White Light!"

The fan club had already invented chants and were shouting them at the top of their lungs. Their numbers had more than doubled since the last promotion exam.

"Hahahaha! Behold, magic-monger!"

"Hmph. Whatever."

"Why not just admit you are jealous?"

"Hilarious. Who's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠jealous?"

The answer was written all over her face, but I did not bother pointing it out. This was the moment victory and defeat sorted themselves out.

That said…

Mom hadn't come today too, right?

I scanned the crowd with a nervous flutter—and froze.

Huh.

What are you doing here?

My eyes met those of someone I had never expected, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.