The Eccentric Tower Master
“Apostle-nim!”
Kelcia came barreling toward him, wailing like a banshee before clamping onto Yoahim's back in a crushing hug. He knew full well how rigorously trained her body was, and for a split second, it felt like his ribs were about to snap as the air whooshed out of him.
He choked out a desperate help between gagging coughs, but Kelcia showed no signs of letting go.
“I believed in you! I really, really believed!”
The pressure squeezing his torso only intensified, to the point where he half-worried his bones might shatter. Yoahim squirmed, calling her name, but it was like she couldn't even hear him.
“Kelcia-nim, the Apostle looks like he's suffering. Maybe ease up?”
“Ah!”
Snapped back to reality by Sasha's words, Kelcia jolted away in alarm. She bowed her head repeatedly, apologizing profusely.
Yoahim rubbed his still-tingling body and waved it off, saying it was fine. He glanced at Sasha—her eyes were oddly icy for some reason.
“……Ahem. A deal's a deal since I won, right, Haellagos?”
Haellagos shrugged casually.
“Of course. For a demon, reputation is everything.”
Demons always kept their word. Sure, if some unpopular loser begged to become the most popular guy in the village, they'd slaughter everyone else to make it happen—but they didn't lie. Not that Haellagos, who genuinely liked Yoahim, would twist a wish like that.
“I promised to teach you black magic if you won. And to find you a new mentor.”
Yoahim nodded.
“Sadly, I haven't found your new mentor yet. As you know, we're at war. All our skilled warriors are on the front lines, so there's no one suitable to assign to you. And given your level, we can't just stick any old fighter with you.”
It made sense. In the middle of all-out war with Alzahar, pulling a top-tier warrior from the battlefield would be a massive loss. Sure, one guy wouldn't make or break things—but when Aljes could solo hundreds of enemies, a single elite was worth more than a battalion of grunts.
“I originally planned for you to train swordsmanship alongside black magic, but that's off the table now. So until I find your mentor, focus on black magic first.”
“You'll be teaching me the black magic, right?”
When it came to the strongest black mage in the Withered Land, Haellagos was the obvious pick. Alzahar the lich was top-tier too, but he was the enemy they had to kill, so off the table.
“Hahaha!”
But Haellagos just laughed heartily and shook his head.
“You're trying to run before you can walk. I did say I'd pass on secret arts, but that's after you've mastered the basics. You need to start from the fundamentals of black magic.”
Basics were key in anything. Yoahim knew that from his sword training. Still, he wasn't fully convinced.
“You could teach me those basics yourself. Wouldn't that beat switching teachers later?”
“Mastering black magic and teaching it are two different beasts. I'm no good at instructing.”
Like how geniuses couldn't grasp the average person's struggles. Yoahim finally nodded.
“So who do I learn from?”
“Follow me.”
Haellagos addressed the onlookers.
“The rest of you, dismissed. Sir Ian, good work today. Reflect on this spar and hone yourself further. You've got real talent as a knight.”
Ian bowed deeply, face full of gratitude. Most demons would've executed a loser on the spot as "weak,” but Haellagos was a true lord.
“Leon, Sasha—head back and rest. If I'm late, eat without me.”
Leon and Sasha nodded.
Yoahim turned to Kelcia.
“I've learned a lot from you, Kelcia. This win's all thanks to you.”
“Apostle-nim……”
Kelcia's eyes welled up.
“Let's go.”
Haellagos and Yoahim left the training grounds for the streets. People on the main avenue froze, bowed to Haellagos as he passed, then resumed walking once he was gone. It was the proper respect for one's lord—no force required. They all bowed with genuine reverence.
No surprise—Haellagos is their savior. Gave the homeless a home, food, jobs. Why wouldn't they follow him wholeheartedly?
“Here we are.”
Haellagos pointed to a mansion walled in by gray stone. Nothing special about it, so Yoahim just figured some rich black mage lived there.
“This is Jenahe Tower. You'll learn black magic here.”
“A mage tower? Here?”
Mage towers were mystical halls built by great wizards. Black magic was still magic, so it wasn't weird—but.
“Where's the tower?”
No matter where he looked, there was no tower. Just a big mansion.
Haellagos couldn't have mixed up the location, right? Haellagoria only had one tower anyway—the Spire Tower.
Mage towers were called that because they were literally towers. Even if this place functioned like one, no tower meant no mage tower.
“The tower's right under your feet.”
“Under our feet?”
Yoahim instinctively looked down—and felt a surge of mana flow from the ground. “Huh?”
“Exactly. Jenahe Tower is underground. Not reaching up, but delving down.”
……What? Building a mage tower underground? Yoahim was floored by the sheer audacity.
Haellagos chuckled at his reaction.
“The surface mansion serves as the entrance to the tower and doubles as a school for young black mages. Awakening their talents early is crucial.”
“You're not saying I have to go back to school with the kids, right? I'm a bit old for classroom basics.”
“That'd be fun, but time's short. Our enemies aren't just inside our borders.”
Lilith had warned Yoahim about Melos's movements. Haellagos knew their internal politics too. Once the civil war with Alzahar ended, Melos would strike. A divided foe was no threat—but a united one? Unpredictable.
“Inside.”
The entrance was guarded by two death knights. Makes sense, given the kids' safety and the tower's importance—security was tight.
Yoahim followed Haellagos through the mansion's corridors to the elevator. This one led from surface to depths, locked to prevent casual access. Like Kalsara or Tolstone towers securing their entrances.
Ding!
Haellagos pressed the button, lights flickered, and the doors slid open. They rode down to sublevel 5.
“This is the research labs. Black mages work around the clock here.”
No explosive booms or weird smells like Tolstone Tower. But the vibe was undeniably ominous—fitting for black magic research.
They better not be doing human experiments. Yoahim shivered involuntarily.
“Your teacher's in room 507.”
Jenahe Tower was huge for being underground. Sublevel 5 wasn't even the bottom—more layers below. How the hell did they build something this massive underground?
Yoahim trailed Haellagos in awe. Occasional thuds echoed in the quiet halls, but nothing annoying.
“It's me. Coming in.”
Two light knocks. No answer, but Haellagos shoved the door open anyway.
The workshop was spotless. Minimalist, almost devoid of life—no clutter, which Yoahim appreciated. Most wizard labs evoked bubbling potions, scattered papers, teetering book piles. Maybe a mage thing, but Yoahim preferred clean.
The owner seemed to live by non-attachment—only essentials present. Yoahim was almost won over by the tidiness alone.
Until.
“Jeron, I told you to get dressed when you have guests.”
Non-attachment taken to extremes, huh? Like shedding even your clothes? The dark elf called Jeron was meditating buck-naked.
“Oh, Lord Haellagos. Didn't hear you come in—lost in meditation. Sorry.”
Fuck, at least cover up, you ditz. Yoahim sighed at the bare-assed greeting.
“Jeron… what if you catch a cold? Get some clothes on.”
“Haha, I'm fine, Lord Haellagos. Magic keeps the temperature steady here.”
I'm not fine. Yoahim bit back a retort as Haellagos shot him a look.
“Just put something on. Don't make me repeat myself.”
“But I'm really oka—fine, fine.”
Jeron rummaged for clothes. He put some on, alright—a tiny pair of shorts.
Doesn't listen for shit. Yoahim started worrying. Do I really have to learn from this guy?
“Allow me to introduce: Jeron, Tower Master of Jenahe Tower.”
This exhibitionist is the tower master? Yoahim's eyes bugged out in disbelief. Jenahe Tower's fine like this?
“And this is Apostle Yoahim. Jeron, from now on, you'll—”
“Lord Haellagos.”
Jeron cut him off, chin raised defiantly.
“I don't teach just anyone.”
Haellagos fell silent. Yoahim panicked. Wasn't this all arranged? After dragging me here, a rejection?