Chapter 278
Chapter 278
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 278
Chapter Title: Epilogue: Aftermath
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"................"
Irid felt the thick fog in his mind gradually lifting. His keen intellect returned, and the suppressed memories came flooding back.
What had happened?
Right—he had seen through the identity of the fake mad mage.
He had sensed something off about the suddenly appearing impostor and prepared soldiers in advance, but he couldn't stop the monster once it bared its fangs.
Irid's mind had been dominated, and he had ordered every available soldier to slay the mad mage...
Ah.
"...Goddess."
They say desperate people turn to gods, and Irid found himself murmuring her name without thinking. How was he supposed to clean this up? Where should he even start?
First, he needed to check if word had reached the Empire's Sword Saint.
The lesser forces could handle the mad mage fleeing or being subdued on their own, but the Sword Saint was another matter. The Violet Magic Tower Master would inevitably get involved, sparking a massive clash between pinnacle powerhouses right in the heart of the Empire.
He smacked his head to chase away the lingering haze and flung open the door to the outside. For now, rally the men and seize control. He needed limbs he could command.
Contact his older sister urgently too—no matter how unstoppable the fake mad mage seemed, it couldn't breach the palace, so an emergency evacuation...
Thud.
The door swung halfway open before bumping into something.
What was this? An attempt at confinement? He poked his head out to inspect the obstacle and found the mad mage prostrated flat on the ground, forehead planted firmly against the floor.
"................"
"I'm sorry."
"For real?"
"Yes, I've fully suppressed the fake mad mage uprising, Your Highness."
No.
He couldn't believe it so easily. The fake had already made its move.
This could be another ploy—pretending to be the mad mage to manipulate him. The previous brainwashing carried the risk of breaking someday.
What could be safer than purely deceiving him into blind trust?
Sensing the suspicious glare—or perhaps mistaking the piercing stare for a reprimand—the prone mad mage rubbed his hands together furiously.
"This incident wasn't something I caused or intended, but since it stemmed from me, there's a certain... moral responsibility. So, this is a humble token of my sincerity."
"................"
"Centra merchandise, straight up."
"?"
The mad mage rummaged through his bag and pulled out various items. Curious, Irid examined them, only to find they were all utterly bizarre, far removed from any common sense.
Rosemary-scented perfume.
An ultra-realistic portrait of Centra all dolled up (a bromide photo).
And even a photobook of Centra in somewhat provocative attire.
"................"
First off, relief washed over him.
Yeah, this was the mad mage. The guy who couldn't go a day without stirring up some absurd nonsense, like it was his life's calling. He was the real deal.
If this was all an act by a fake, honor demanded he play along.
And then came the surging rage.
Dressing my woman in that?
"You..."
"No, no. This photoshoot was handled entirely by female staff—I wasn't involved. If I'd done it, it'd have way more punch. I'd have put her in a steamier swimsuit."
Then you'd have tasted some real heat yourself. Irid eyed the Centra photobook with a peculiar gaze. An irresistible curiosity bubbled up.
"This book... has her in a swimsuit?"
"And it's exactly what Centra wanted! After our last meeting, she mentioned wanting a gift to ease her loneliness. I pondered the best approach, and with this massive screw-up, I figured I'd apologize and deliver in one go."
The explanation halved his anger, and anticipation for the photobook's contents halved it further.
Next came the prince's sense of duty. Good that it was over, but the cleanup loomed.
Right on cue, the mad mage chimed in.
"Your men fought brilliantly—ended with just minor injuries. No major losses among the citizens or other nobles' troops either."
"The infrastructure?"
"A bit roughed up. But I'm putting the black mages to work as slaves to fix it."
"...And why are black mages involved here?"
"Well, here's the rundown—"
The mad mage launched into a fervent explanation to deflect blame. The black mages had siphoned off fragments to create doppelgangers; Evil God-chan (apparently renamed Aisha) had been a double agent infiltrator, and so on.
Once he heard the full context, it all made sense.
The mad mage's fragmentation had been a side effect of his efforts to avert the holy city's catastrophe. Utterly forgivable.
And... sure, the capital's facilities were damaged, but how bad could it be?
It was a clash between illusion mages. The Violet Magic Tower didn't do collateral damage. A fireball here, an earth spike there?
"Uh, uhh."
Irid strolled to the end of the corridor and lightly parted the curtains with a carefree heart.
"................"
And he beheld the devastation left by the beautiful quintet: Bloodwind, Gravity Manipulation, Huge Fire Serpent, Dragon Scale, and Flame Angel.
Pavement blocks completely melted and slumped from horrific heat, ground flipped over like an earthquake to expose raw earth, buildings warped as if caught in some immense attractive force.
The pièce de résistance was the clock tower. Perfectly upright before his mind control, it now leaned at a jaunty 45-degree angle.
Irid's head—and his mood—tilted sharply too.
"Make your excuses."
"I-I already did just now..."
"No—insufficient. Nowhere near enough to sate my fury. Convince me why I shouldn't thrash you right now!"
"It wasn't me! All I did was try to clean up, kyaack! Don't hit me with the duster! Aaack!"
The mad mage got thoroughly dusted.
He decided to stay in the capital until everything was squared away.
The black mages who'd crawled out needed handing over, and they'd serve as free labor for street repairs—plenty to do, and fast.
And above all...
"Hey, Aisha. What's this?"
"...A wardrobe."
"It's for you. Go on, open it."
"................"
Aisha slunk forward with eyes full of deepest suspicion and discomfort, cracked open the wardrobe, then blinked at the contents in utter confusion before firing off a fundamental question.
"Is this even clothing?"
"What's the definition of clothing?"
"A functional tool to protect humanity's fragile flesh—and these make zero difference worn or naked-!!"
Bang bang bang!
Aisha pounded the wardrobe in irritation.
But if you're gonna betray, own the consequences. Sin demands punishment; possession, exorcism. I snatched up the maid swimsuit.
"Knew you'd pull that card, so I wove in protective magic. Even tiny scraps of fabric count as clothes now, right? Fashion show time, Aisha-chan. Embrace your karma and sins."
"...W-what are you planning to do, making me wear this?"
"Obviously... immortalize it in photos for posterity and show it to everyone you ever meet."
"................"
She had a name now.
She'd live on as Aisha, forge bonds with many, and perhaps... far in the future, meet someone she loved and build a family.
Her lifespan was immense—long enough for anything to happen. Inevitably, she'd become someone's friend, someone's family, someone's light.
Truly... a beautiful thing, no?
I just wanted to spice that beauty with a dash of fun. I let out an evil cackle, brandishing cloth scraps in both hands, and proclaimed:
"Every time you strut your stuff in front of someone! I'll reveal you're the cute girl who struck a double peace in a maid swimsuit! Ruin any shot at playing the dark overlord!"
"Absolutely not──!!"
Aisha shrieked like a hormonal teen and bolted. I gave immediate chase.
Of course, a quick click of Gingoa would've nabbed her easy.
But what kind of dad brings a bat to play tag? She'd chosen this path, so I'd treat her like a person.
Today was half an exception. Traitors get the end they deserve.
"Accept your fate, child! The world holds grand destinies one must embrace!"
"Don't make me laugh! Torture me instead—that sensitivity 100x whatever!"
"Pain's fleeting, but history's forever. And think, child: allow a bit of exposure, and your wardrobe options go infinite. This is for you!"
"Wipe that grin off your face first!"
People gotta live with a smile.
A brief game of tag ensued, and I tackled Aisha as she made a break for the front door. Gotcha.
And then I reached for Aisha's buttons──
Snap.
Roderus finally awoke from the virtual world injected by the fake mad mage.
"...Reality?"
"Yeah..."
"Kim Lulu, wake up. This isn't the time for sleep-talking."
Enemies might still lurk nearby.
One day, he and Kim Lulu opened their eyes to find themselves back in modern South Korea. Oh Hyein and Mungae explained that the "New Four Heavenly Kings had invaded Earth" and summoned them for aid.
Kim Lulu bounced with joy at reuniting with her friend, but Roderus distrusted the entire world from the get-go. If summoning was that easy, they'd have done it ages ago.
And Mungae—they'd just been together moments before.
Yet this Korean Mungae acted like she remembered nothing. So one of two: this world was fake, or the outside Mungae was.
The world itself felt unstable too—static noise, buildings appearing from nowhere, all sorts of eerie anomalies.
Roderus made countless attempts to escape the fake world, culminating in a long tale of adventure where he concluded it was all an elaborate illusion magic crafted by someone.
And just as he prepared to bet it all on breaking free from the virtual reality...
The fake mad mage vanished, letting him wake from the dream.
Roderus hoisted the still-groggy Kim Lulu onto his back and moved out. Outside was chaos. No sign of the homebody Mungae.
Time to scout carefully. He prowled Crown Hall using every trick from his ex-assassin days and gleaned some intel.
Twin-like mages had wrecked a corner of the capital in a brutal fight.
Black hair, red eyes—the spitting image of the mad mage who'd once routed him. Did the guy have a twin? Or... he'd heard Duke Redburn collected something. Was that it?
Timing-wise, his escape from the virtual world synced perfectly with the mage's disappearance. Meaning the caster was the fake mad mage who'd died.
"................"
Info was thin, but Roderus's instincts pointed one way.
Looking back...
Coincidentally, after losing to the mad mage, he'd plummeted into South Korea as a magical girl. And now... he suspected a mad mage offshoot had dumped him into this illusion-Korea.
And heck, even in that world...
The Four Heavenly King Yuri Frostlover, who'd ravaged magical girls with plant tentacles, was the mad mage's lackey!
Think about it: the name Yunaris of Infinite Void blatantly cribbed from the Magic Tower Master's name, right?
So, dimension magic or illusion? Still unclear. But the mad mage clearly held the key to every mystery.
Explaining it all to Kim Lulu would take forever, so he kept it simple:
"...We might get to see Oh Hyein again. Lulu."
"R-really?! We just saw her!"
"Let's go confirm. I know where the mad mage is holed up."
What was the truth?
Could they reunite with their long-lost friend?
Half-hope, half-dread swirling within, Roderus and Kim Lulu arrived at the mad mage's base—and witnessed:
"If you won't wear it, I'll dress you myself! Strip!"
"Die! Mad mage, die!"
"Embrace your inner woman! Succumb to the frills and exposure..."
"................"
The mad mage, in real time, toying with a woman.
Realizing his social lifespan was on its last gasp, the mad mage frantically hid the rag in his hands and wailed his innocence.
"...Pervert!"
But it fell on deaf ears.