Chapter 16
Chapter 16
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: New Star: Lua Polaris (3)
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An hour had passed since Lua Polaris arrived at the unfamiliar mansion.
The old butler managing the estate had mentioned long ago that the master would arrive soon.
Yet, even now, Lua hadn't so much as glimpsed the grimoire, let alone met the letter's sender.
The only small comfort for her was the plate of cookies and fruits set before her.
Lua nibbled at the cookies meant for a light refreshment as she gazed at the mages before her.
"In my view, this ancient magic that's surfaced might well be tied to necromancy."
"Lord Melrum, don't you share a long friendship with him? If you've heard anything beforehand, pray share."
"The baron and I have exchanged thoughts for quite some time, but this is only my second invitation here as well."
The mages appeared seasoned with age.
They sat discussing the grimoire they would soon examine together, right in front of Lua.
Had they held such gatherings even before she arrived?
The mage named Melrum adeptly steered the conversation.
"Heh heh, acquiring something like that must have cost a fortune."
"Well, just look at this mansion. How many families could use a place like this in the capital as a mere villa?"
"True enough."
"Of course, the baron is a man of grand vision. If we interpret it properly, I'm sure he'll reward us handsomely."
Watching them converse, Lua almost seemed invisible.
Not once did they address her amid their chatter.
As if the opinions of a novice mage held no interest.
Crunch.
Lua munched on the cookie in her hand while observing them, lost in thought.
'That mage named Melrum has been here before, so the grimoire itself must be genuine.'
The mansion's owner had long exchanged letters with various mages, sharing insights on magic.
He clearly possessed profound knowledge of the arcane.
This gathering was for those whose counsel he sought, as he couldn't unravel it alone.
An ancient spell—or something akin to it—scribed in a grimoire.
An attempt to find someone capable of deciphering it.
'Though it might be tough for me to handle.'
Of course, Lua excluded herself from that.
Her reply letter had merely been penned by Archmage Johan.
Face-to-face, she doubted she could respond adequately.
Still, she planned to memorize as much of the grimoire's contents as possible.
Anything she recalled, she could somehow retrieve from Celestia.
"By the way, when might the baron return?"
"Who knows? There's no rule saying there's only one grimoire. It wouldn't be odd if preparations took time."
"Fair point."
While the mages—excluding Lua—debated and fretted over the grimoire...
"......"
Creak.
The old butler who had escorted her returned to the dining hall.
As he entered, Lua's gaze naturally turned to him.
"My apologies for the long wait."
Was it finally time to meet the mansion's master?
The butler bowed politely in apology.
Lua's eyes brimmed with anticipation as she watched him.
And as if fulfilling her hopes, he addressed the guests at the table.
"The master wishes to meet each of you individually."
"Oh, at last...!"
"However, since the task may take time, the rest of you please wait here in the meantime."
The master wanted to see the mages one by one.
No one present failed to grasp the meaning.
The moment to decipher the ancient magic grimoire had arrived.
"That's fine."
"So, whom does the baron wish to see first?"
Who would be the first to lay eyes on the grimoire?
Amid the expectant gazes of the mages, the butler turned to the one seated at the head, the mage named Melrum.
"Lord Melrum. Please follow me."
"Ahem... I'll take my leave first, then."
The first to depart for the grimoire was the mage named Melrum.
Unfortunately, Lua couldn't claim the fortune of being chosen first.
Moments after the most enthusiastic conversationalist rose from his seat...
The other mages expressed their regrets with bowed heads.
"This is something. It'll be a while before it reaches my turn."
"Indeed."
"......"
Lua too bowed her head silently and resumed nibbling her cookie.
The tedious wait resumed.
* * * * * *
Afterward, Lua's wait dragged on.
Some time after the first chosen, Melrum, had left...
The butler returned alone to fetch another mage.
Unlike when he took Melrum, he came back by himself this time.
"Lord Broit. Please follow me."
The mage called by the butler was the one who had been deep in talk with Melrum.
Curious about Melrum's fate, perhaps?
He questioned the butler who summoned him.
"Where has Lord Melrum gone?"
"Regrettably, he gave up on the interpretation and left first."
Melrum had abandoned the deciphering and departed the mansion.
Complex expressions crossed the mages' faces upon hearing this.
"Lord Melrum gave up on deciphering the grimoire?"
"Yes, that's correct."
Some brightened at the news, while others grew worried.
The mage named Broit seemed lost in heavy thought as well.
Yet the key point was that the butler continued calling for the next.
Broit heeded the summons and stepped out obediently.
"It's still far off..."
Some time after Broit vanished from the dining hall...
Creeeak.
The butler returned alone once more.
Had Broit also given up and left?
No—the butler promptly named the next.
"Lord Alton. Please follow me."
"Right away."
One by one, the mages heeded the butler's call and left the dining hall.
One.
Then another.
Each departure brought the butler back.
He led yet another mage away.
The mages filling the hall departed in turn.
As they filed out sequentially, Lua's eyes followed each one leaving.
A monotonous wait.
Yet her sole drive to endure was the anticipation for the grimoire.
"......"
After watching mage after mage summoned for so long...
Lua suddenly realized she had filled her belly entirely with cookies.
She craved a proper meal, but eating more seemed impossible now.
'I'll head straight to a restaurant when I get back to Celestia.'
Instead, she resolved to eat there.
Having only experienced the Dessert Tower before, today she'd try something different.
With Lua lost in such thoughts as the last in the dining hall, the door soon opened again before long.
"......Now only one remains."
Creeeak.
The butler, returned alone as before, looked down at Lua.
Their eyes met briefly—the kindly faced butler and Lua.
Soon, he bowed formally in apology.
"My deepest apologies for the long wait. Lady Lua, the master awaits you."
Naturally, Lua had only one reply.
"Alright. Let's go."
The young mage of the Blue Tower.
She responded to the butler's call without hesitation.
Time to end the long wait.
* * * * * *
The Extremist Arcane Research Society.
One of the dreaded Seven Corners feared across the continent, a secret society led by the pilgrim Bartov.
This organization's roots, long entrenched in the empire's shadows, lay in a scholarly assembly of those pursuing magical inquiry.
A collective formed to gather and study countless spells.
By its founding purpose alone, it seemed utterly noble—yet it had to lurk in darkness for one reason.
In researching magic, it spared no means or methods.
That was the Extremist Arcane Research Society's sole creed.
This policy had birthed countless victims over the years, turning most of its mages into imperial fugitives.
The mage Allandorf Petreus, long immersed in the society, was no exception.
"This is... none today proved satisfactory."
Vice Chairman—Allandorf Petreus.
The society's second-in-command harbored a peculiar hobby.
Exchanging letters with promising mages to gauge their caliber.
Naturally, his pastime went beyond mere observation.
When the time ripened, Allandorf lured them with gold, jewels, and grimoires for a trial.
Through this method, the vice chairman had recruited mages worthy of the society.
"I brought them here with some expectations, yet they all failed one after another."
Of course, failure's end was harsh.
The mages collapsed in the room where Allandorf now stood exemplified this.
Captured by Allandorf, masterful in spirit and soul manipulation, they became puppets under his will.
That was the fate awaiting those who failed the trial.
Allandorf harvested the souls of those he deemed unworthy of independent thought.
Even the baron's name he used to summon them belonged to a noble he had personally puppeted.
"Ugh... hngh......"
"Even so, to join our cause, one must possess commensurate skill, mustn't they? Lord Melrum."
Heh.
Allandorf chuckled at the man crawling at his feet.
He had summoned them with expectations, yet they were all subpar.
How could they debate magic as equals like this?
Especially after he'd gone to the expense of procuring a rare artifact.
Clicking his tongue, Allandorf closed the weathered grimoire before him.
He then addressed the firmly shut parlor door.
"Let the next one in."
The final mage remained.
He would assess her, then clean up.
With that thought, Allandorf spoke.
Moments later, the parlor door opened, and an unfamiliar mage peeked in.
"Ah, hello! I'm Lua Polaris."
"A pleasure. Miss Lua."
Creak.
Through the open door stepped a silver-haired girl in a witch's hat.
Lua Polaris.
The young mage with whom Allandorf had recently corresponded.
As he regarded her, his eyes caught a card poking from her pocket.
"......"
A protruding jester illustration.
Allandorf let out a hollow laugh upon seeing it.
Come to think of it, among those he exchanged letters with, one fit that description.
Her responses aligned directionally but brimmed with errors in detail.
As if reciting knowledge not her own, committing odd mistakes.
Intrigued, Allandorf had summoned her to the mansion to verify.
He held no grand expectations for her, of course.
To him, it was mere idle curiosity.
"Then, I'll come in."
And the subject herself stood before Allandorf: Lua Polaris.
Perhaps due to her appearance—far from seasoned or scholarly—he now faintly understood the impression from her letters.
Lua closed the parlor door and strode straight toward Allandorf and the grimoire.
As she moved to sit nearby...
She froze.
Her gaze halted on someone at Allandorf's feet.
"Th-that person...!"
"Oh, pay them no mind. They're merely puppets here."
Allandorf kicked Melrum at his feet as he spoke.
This was but a simple test.
To confirm if she qualified to converse with him.
Merely the end for a greedy mage lacking even that.
"No need for concern. Pass my test, Miss Lua, and there'll be no issue."
"A test...?"
"Indeed. To verify if you qualify to discuss magic with us."
The trial's content was straightforward.
Fully interpret the grimoire before him.
He'd grant time, so long as she didn't stall from the start.
He sought comrades, not deaths.
"Interpret the grimoire before me. Prove your worth, and I'll welcome you as a peer."
"......"
"But should you lack such qualification... well, your fate would scarcely differ from these puppets."
Tap, tap.
Allandorf prodded the floor's Melrum with his staff's tip.
Impaled, Melrum groaned and writhed, but Allandorf paid it no heed.
Puppets could be remade if broken.
"Truth be told, I hold little expectation for you, Miss Lua."
"......"
"Still, if you wish to survive, you must demonstrate your value to me."
Those who accepted his invitation could not leave.
Allandorf knew this best.
What made prepared mages most fearsome?
The depth of spells ready for instant activation.
Even against superiors, they held a minimal chance of victory.
"Especially here, with the Extremist Arcane Research Society's vice chairman."
A mage among mages.
An exile who dabbled in forbidden curses scorned by the world.
How could greenhouse flowers resist him?
Proving this, Lua's eyes meeting his clouded with complex emotions.
"Interpret this grimoire at once. Fail, and..."
"...I can't."
"Pardon?"
Allandorf, pressing her, eyed her with puzzlement.
Lua Polaris.
She had bluntly refused his proposal.
Bewildered, Allandorf glared.
"You have no right to refuse. Did I not warn you? Fail here, and you'll end like him."
Allandorf couldn't fathom it.
Not failing mid-interpretation and quitting—no, outright refusing without even trying.
Without so much as opening the grimoire.
Her letter's caliber warranted no such surrender.
This was defiance, plain as day.
Thus, Allandorf proposed once more.
"Interpret the grimoire. Pass, and you'll stand with us."
"I can't interpret it."
"...Lua Polaris. Do you grasp what you're saying?"
Yet she stubbornly refused.
Beyond mere failure—rejecting the attempt itself.
A wry smile twisted Allandorf's face as he watched her.
At that moment, Lua's hand gripped the grimoire at her waist.
"I've already said I can't."
"A mage debating ancient magic couldn't fail even the opening passages. So, this is refusal, then."
"I can't."
"Insisting on poison, are you?"
"......"
"Very well. If you crave enmity, I'll hold nothing back."
Lua's face darkened as she faced him.
Grip.
Her eyes gleamed as she clutched the grimoire.
"—[Grimoire] activation."
Smirk.
Allandorf's lips curled at her action.
Foolhardy mages like her cropped up occasionally.
Blind to the gulf between them, charging headlong.
Unaware even of his overtures, opting for crude resolutions.
"...Entertaining."
Regrettably, his merciful offer to a junior ended here.
Swoosh.
Allandorf raised his staff toward the foolish mage.
Crack, craaack.
Lua's magic, activated a beat faster, surged toward him.
Chilling frost assailed Allandorf's form, freezing it rapidly.
As his body cooled, Allandorf spoke.
"Reveal. Illuminate. Expose."
Allandorf's forbidden curse—directly invading another's mind and soul.
His darkened eyes locked onto Lua's.
Meeting her ash-gray gaze, his delved deep into the mage's soul.
Once infiltrating the foundational subconscious and seizing it, victory.
The great mage Allandorf's battles lay not in the physical realm.
His true contests began in clashes of souls.
"Devour."
Allandorf Petreus.
The spirit mage's consciousness sank into profound darkness.
* * * * * *
A library.
Vast beyond measure, immense and staggeringly grand.
The first sight upon Allandorf's entry into the deep subconscious: a library.
"......"
Grand. Expansive.
Such were Allandorf's initial impressions of the scene before him.
Spiraling staircases winding endlessly.
Towering bookshelves arrayed across countless floors.
The cylindrical edifice, archaic in design, stretched vertically without end.
The work of a lifetime from a master architect, perhaps?
At least, Allandorf had never beheld such beauty in architecture.
And at the library's deepest base.
From this origin point of all, Allandorf spotted a young man.
"How dare—."
Ebony-black hair like polished jet.
Sharp eyes gleaming beneath.
Myriad numbered grimoires floating around the youth.
Surveying the exotic youth, Allandorf met the gaze of the one staring back.
"How dare you lay hands on my long horse without permission."
The youth's eyes regarded him.
Allandorf's eyes returned the stare.
In that instant, Allandorf Petreus instinctively understood.
Something had gone terribly, terribly wrong.