Chapter 116: What’s Wrong with You…? (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 116: What’s Wrong with You…? (3)
"Magus." It was a word every mage knew.
The Magi were figures who had been active during the forgotten Age of Gods—in a sense, the ancestors of all modern mages. It was said that each and every one of them was a powerful being capable of twisting the laws of the world at will.
However, beyond that, little was known.
This was due to the loss of information over time. While many relics and artifacts from the Age of Gods were still being discovered, items related to the Magi were surprisingly nonexistent.
Furthermore, what little remained of their craft—now dubbed "Primitive Magic" rather than "Magic of the Magi"—wasn't particularly appealing.
This was because someone had already attempted to research it a century ago.
The 7th Tier mage, Sillikaman.
Fascinated by the Magi, who were described as possessing the immense power to warp the principles of the world, he had dedicated himself to their study.
Alongside his disciples, he researched the Magi for a very long time, eventually deciphering the Phrases and Hand Seals they used, which allowed him to cast Ancient Magic.
That was the good part.
The problem was that the Ancient Magic he interpreted was far more inferior than they had imagined. Because the mana arrays weren't precise, the manifestation of the magic was unstable. The casting speed was so absurdly slow that it was practically unusable in combat.
Most importantly, despite all those drawbacks, its power was low.
Even though he had succeeded in recreating the magic of the Magi, it manifested incompletely, as if a crucial piece of the puzzle were missing.
Consequently, the Magic Society ruled that the magic of the Magi was impossible to use in the current reality. It was given the name "Primitive Magic" among mages and was gradually forgotten.
In the end, only a few of Sillikaman’s disciples, who couldn't let go of their fantasies regarding the Magi, passed down the Phrases. Today, the tradition barely survived in the form of using only one or two Phrases.
Naturally, most mages these days didn't even know that Primitive Magic involved Phrases or Hand Seals.
But none of that mattered to Selaim Mikardo.
What mattered was...
‘...Marquis Palatio is a Magus!’
The fact that Marquis Palatio was a Magus. Moreover—a Magus from the forgotten era who might be able to help him reach the 9th Tier from the 8th!
Of course, his assumption skipped several steps and could be considered hasty, yet he was certain. He had several clues.
Marquis Palatio had easily bypassed a Gate that no one else could solve. He also seemed to read Phrases with ease—Phrases that even Selaim himself couldn't decipher.
Above all, there was "that thing" attached to his back.
He was accompanied by an entity that Selaim couldn't even begin to imagine—a being capable of utterly ignoring the laws of this world.
Furthermore, the Marquis had already used more than five Phrases right in front of Selaim’s eyes. And it wasn't some unstable application; it was as perfect and sophisticated as the magic of the current era.
Something that even Sillikaman, a 7th Tier mage, couldn't perfectly recreate had been accomplished by a Marquis barely in his twenties. Even if he were a genius, it was impossible.
Unless, of course, he was a Magus from the ancient era.
‘Looking at it this way, the things I didn't understand while investigating him finally make sense.’
Selaim recalled an incident that had baffled him during his investigation of the Marquis.
Within a span of a few years, the former Count, along with the first and second sons, had died mysterious deaths, and the underworld organization under their command had been wiped out all at once.
At the time, rumors were rampant that Alon Palatio was behind it, but there were many doubts. Not only because of his young age, but because the massive organization he supposedly commanded—the one that had cleaned up Avalon in a single day—left no trace of its form or movements.
Selaim had found that part strange.
But what if the assumption was that Marquis Palatio was a Magus?
To a Magus who could defy and rewrite the laws of the world at will, mere thugs of the underworld would be nothing more than insects.
Therefore...
‘Did he take over the body? Or is it possession? An artifact? Or perhaps the long-lost Reincarnation Magic? Why is he hiding his identity? Is there a reason? No—it doesn't matter.’
With eyes that betrayed a hint of madness, Selaim Mikardo thought:
‘I must become his friend at all costs, without offending him. I’ll get close and learn his magic. And then—’
I will reach the 9th Tier!
"Hehehe..." A dark, inexplicable chuckle escaped his lips.
‘What the hell is wrong with this guy all of a sudden?’
Watching him, Parkline felt a sense of distaste, though a tiny sliver of worry flickered within him.
* * *
While Selaim was intoxicated by his strange conclusion, Alon was showing the Ring of Cargunias' Pact to Heinkel.
[...From the looks of it, he’s just flat-out refusing to be summoned.]
"Then what should I do in this case?"
[Getting him out of the ring is simple. Don't just pour mana into it; divide it into small amounts and inject it only into the engravings.]
Following Heinkel’s instructions, Alon funneled mana specifically into the patterns.
Wrooooom!
The ring began to vibrate violently.
"Oh—"
He succeeded in a summoning that had never worked before. However, the result was very small.
"...Huh?"
Alon looked in bewilderment at the snake on his arm, which certainly looked like "The Receiver Basiliora." Its size was less than half of a half—no, it looked like less than a ten-thousandth of its original size.
[It’s a way to summon a familiar for the purpose of conversation when you want to save mana. They can't refuse a call like this.]
"Ah."
Heinkel’s explanation cleared his confusion. But it was short-lived.
[You wretched human! To trap me in a ring like this!! Release me at once!!]
"I don't know how to release you."
[Ha! Do you think I will move according to your whims?! Never! Not a chance! From now on, you will never summon me again, and I will never obey your words!!!]
Watching Basiliora throw a fit on his arm as if foaming at the mouth, Alon couldn't help but sigh.
‘I expected this, but the resistance is stronger than I thought.’
[Release me—release me this instant! Get me out of here right now!!!!!!!!]
Even then, Basiliora continued his pathetic(?) tantrum. He was expressing his absolute refusal to cooperate with his entire body.
...To be honest, Alon wanted to give him a good flick, but knowing he couldn't touch a spirit body, he thought calmly.
‘What kind of deal should I offer him?’
Since he had anticipated this situation, he had prepared a bargain to strike with Basiliora.
Just then.
[Can I ask you something?]
Heinkel suddenly spoke up.
"Yes."
[Is the reason you came to see me because of that bir—I mean, the ring?]
"I wanted to receive your teachings as well, but the reason I came so rudely at this hour is indeed because of the ring."
[Then, would you mind leaving it with me for a bit?]
"...This ring?"
[Yeah. I’ll make him behave.]
The thick amusement in her voice was palpable.
"Would that be alright?"
[Of course. Something like this isn't difficult.]
"Then I’ll leave it to you."
As Alon politely handed over the ring...
[Release me—!!! I said release me, you primitive human!!!!!!!!!!!!!]
[Come back for it tomorrow.]
She waved her hand with a smile.
"Then I will see you tomorrow."
Alon bowed his head in farewell, entrusted her with the ring, and left.
* * *
Basiliora, who had been forced to admit defeat by Alon’s trickery and ended up trapped in the Ring of Cargunias' Pact, was filled with hatred.
It wasn't just hatred for Alon. Trapped inside the ring, he had realized that the Thunder Snake Tribe had also played a part in capturing him. He vowed that once he escaped, he would kill them all.
[Release me, you empty soul shell! If you do, I shall—]
Since his heart hadn't changed one bit, he tried to defy the spirit entity in front of him as soon as Alon left, but—
[Aaaaaaaagh—!!!!!!!!!!]
[!?]
—In the next moment, he froze as Heinkel suddenly began screaming at the top of her lungs.
Crash! Thud! Rattle!
[!!]
Basiliora watched as the books filling the space came tumbling down, shaken by the shockwaves emitted by the spirit. Then, he saw a wooden doll that had appeared out of nowhere, its neck gripped in Heinkel’s hand.
Where and how had such a thing appeared so suddenly?
His wonder was brief. Heinkel lifted the object in her hand and...
[Why!!!! Do I!!!! Have to!!!! Suffer like this!!!!!!!!]
Crunch!
She slammed it into the floor. The wooden doll snapped in half.
But she wasn't finished. She grabbed a thick ancient tome from the fallen books and—
[Eekyiaaaaaagh!!!]
She began to pulverize the wooden doll with the corner of the book.
Thump! Thwack! Crack! Snap!
With every swing of the book, the wooden doll became more mangled.
Crack!
Eventually, the doll's head shattered, sending splinters flying. Not satisfied, Heinkel pinned the doll against a bookshelf and began punching it.
Thud!
The doll groaned under the impact. Regardless, the spirit—looking half-insane—started headbutting the doll's neck repeatedly. Basiliora found himself shrinking back in spite of himself.
Finally.
"Huff... huff...!"
Heinkel, having demolished the wooden doll with physical strength far too great for a mage, breathed heavily amidst the scattered books.
Seeing the demonic glint in her eyes, Basiliora watched her warily before cautiously opening his mouth.
[Um, hey, first, just calm—]
...down? Should he use formal speech? Basiliora hesitated. Even if he was trapped in a ring, he was a god, and his pride was immense. He debated whether it was right to use honorifics with a mere spirit, but—
[What did you say, you little brat?]
That was a mistake.
Snatch!
Before Basiliora could even finish his sentence, Heinkel grabbed him with lightning speed.
[Do you know whose fault it is that I’m like this?]
Her gaze was chilling. Before he could even be shocked that she had grabbed his sealed body, Basiliora cowered under her ferocious bloodlust. However, feeling his pride wounded by his own cowardice, he raised his voice—
[Whose fault? I didn't do anything!!! ...Ma'am.]
—only to tack on a polite ending at the last second as Heinkel’s expression grew even more terrifying.
Of course, he couldn't take back what he had already said.
[Heh... Hehehe, really? Is that so? You didn't do anything wrong? Hmm?]
[W-Wait—]
The Archmage, wearing a bizarre smile, gripped Basiliora tightly and began moving toward the half-destroyed wooden doll.
[Uh, hold on a second—]
[Yes, you're right. Our little snake didn't do anything wrong. I think so too.]
[No, I—wait? Excuse me?]
[That's right, I’m the bad one.]
Basiliora realized he was in deep trouble and desperately tried to use formal language.
[So, since I’m the bad one, I’ll just blow off some steam as I please, okay? That’s fine, right?]
Heinkel wrapped his body around her fist like a knuckle-duster and slammed it into the wooden doll.
[Wait! Wait!!! Let's talk, let's use our words! We are not beasts, we are intelligent—GYAAAAAAAAGH!!!!]
Basiliora’s horrific screams echoed through the library.
...All the way until morning.
* * *
The next day.
Alon set out to attend the Blue Tower Master’s lecture. He wanted to hear the lectures from the Tower Masters that Milan had mentioned yesterday. Since he had to move at night to meet Heinkel anyway, his daytime was free.
Unfortunately, however...
"I'm sorry, but reservations are already closed, and all seats are filled. Entry is impossible."
He found himself unable to attend because the venue was full.
‘I didn't know there were reservations.’
He let out a short sigh as he watched the mages in line hand over papers and enter.
"...Is it possible to just stand in the back and listen?"
"No. Even if you are a Marquis, this is a place where everyone explores magic as equals. Such unfair entry is not permitted."
He asked just in case, but the answer was firm. The voice was beyond cold—it was almost hostile. He felt a bit of annoyance at the chilly tone, but since it couldn't be helped, he was about to turn back when...
"Marquis Palatio?"
"...Tower Master?"
Alon ran into the Blue Tower Master.
"Ah, greetings! Blue Tower Master."
"Ah, yes."
The mage who had been wearing a cold expression just a moment ago greeted Selaim with eyes full of admiration. Selaim, accepting the greeting lightly, turned to Alon.
"Wait, Marquis, why are you here?"
"...?"
He suddenly addressed Alon using formal honorifics. Though puzzled by the sudden change, Alon decided to answer the question first.
"I had some time, so I thought I’d listen to a lecture."
"My lecture?"
"Yes."
"Gasp—"
"?"
"This is a tremendous honor! To think that the Marquis would attend my lecture!"
Alon was bewildered by Selaim, who was now beaming with a look of extreme humility. He knew the Blue Tower Master was someone who didn't care much for authority, but he also knew the man was prouder than anyone else when it came to magic.
"Please, come in. You! Let him through immediately."
"Pardon? But the capacity is currently—"
"Is this not my lecture?"
"Uh—well, yes, it is, but..."
"Then what are you doing! Let him in at once!"
Because of that...
‘...What is wrong with this man?’
Alon found it awkward to respond.
"????"
The mages standing in line to hear the Tower Master’s lecture also watched the scene with expressions of utter confusion.