Chapter 353: The Ball (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 353: The Ball (2)
"I'm great at basic calculations!"
To translate that more accurately, these mages were essentially screaming, "I'm great at being a slave!"
As Alon brushed past them and stepped inside—
"Vice Tower Master, do you happen to know what this is? This is the famous Mana Sensitivity Grass—"
"Ooh—"
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, may I offer it to you as a gift?"
"Ahem, well—it would be rude to refuse a sincere gift, wouldn't it?"
"Thank you so much...! I am Penveril, a professor from the Green Magic Tower."
...Penia was busy extorting goods from the mages.
"Next—"
Ahem, ahem.
Penia puffed out her chest and shrugged her shoulders, making a series of self-important noises that didn't suit her at all. She sat there with an air of leisure, beckoning with a finger.
"So, what do you—ack."
The moment she spotted Alon, she hurriedly pulled her legs down from where they had been crossed atop the desk.
"Hehe—you're here, Marquis?"
"...Wow. So that's what it looks like when someone tries to make their eyes look 'innocent.'"
Evan shook his head in disbelief.
"Shut it."
Penia snapped at Evan with a fierce scowl, then immediately began fidgeting with her hands, looking like she was desperately trying to figure out how to explain the situation. Her eyes darted back and forth.
"U-Um... it's not like I was trying to take things on purpose..."
Her voice trailed off into a whisper. Alon let out a soft sigh.
"I don't intend to get angry, so just give me a brief explanation of what's going on."
"Yes, sir...!"
Penia’s face brightened instantly. She nodded and began to explain the current situation.
After a short while, Alon summarized the facts.
"So. You've already selected everyone needed for the calculations, but there are still mages left who haven't had a chance to apply."
"Exactly."
"And those who weren't chosen are trying to get an additional interview with me."
"That's right."
"And you've been bleeding those mages dry?"
"Will you just shut up?"
Evan had tried to interject, but Penia silenced him with a cold glare and a sharp tongue before looking back at Alon with an aggrieved expression.
"No, I'm telling you, I didn't do anything! I was just sitting here, and they just—they just started bringing things to me!"
"...Is that so?"
"I kept telling them I didn't need it, but they just left it and ran away. What was I supposed to do? And it's not right to refuse when they're practically begging me to take it. It was hard for me too..."
Penia let her shoulders slump and sighed, not even bothering to hide the pile of various reagents and artifacts stacked behind her.
Evan looked at her with pure disdain, but Alon remained silent for a moment before asking, "Why did this situation happen in the first place?"
"Pardon?"
"I mean, why are so many people flocking to this magic research?"
He truly couldn't understand it. They called it "basic calculation," but in reality, it was nothing more than manual labor. If he had to find a comparison from his previous world, it was similar to being a coding slave.
The fact that so many mages were volunteering for such drudgery was naturally strange to Alon.
Penia answered immediately. "It's probably because of the research results."
"The results?"
"Yes. Even if the work itself is tedious, the moment they participate in the research, they get to see the results."
"..."
Alon nodded, but his doubts weren't entirely cleared. He could understand them wanting to participate because they were captivated by his magic. However, even if they saw the results of his research, the mages wouldn't be able to replicate what he did. No matter how much they assisted, there was nothing for them to actually gain.
"...But aren't those results meaningless to other mages?"
"Hmm—"
When Alon pressed further, Penia thought for a moment before speaking.
"Why don't you go see Lady Heinkel first, Marquis?"
"Hmm?"
"The answer to that is included in the things Lady Heinkel wanted to discuss with you."
At the mention of Heinkel, Alon slowly nodded.
"Very well."
* * *
"You're here."
"Yes."
A short while later, Alon met with Heinkel.
"You're later than I expected."
"I had some business to attend to. Am I very late?"
"Not really. There wasn't a set time anyway. It's about magic. Sit down first. I think this conversation might take a while."
"...That long?"
Heinkel considered it for a moment. "Well—it depends on the situation. Hmm."
She sat down across from him.
"...What kind of story is it?"
"Before that, just a moment."
Heinkel immediately began to mutter something under her breath. As she did, magic circles began to spread across the entire library. There were dozens of them, at a glance. They activated in response to her chanting, and the moment the circles glowed brilliantly—
"!"
Alon realized the scenery before his eyes had changed. It was a landscape he knew all too well.
"This place is..."
It was a ruined world. The same world in ruins he always saw whenever he went to meet Kailas. As Alon stood there in a daze, Heinkel’s voice reached him.
"Don't be too surprised. This is your inner world."
Alon turned his gaze and saw her standing there. Unlike in the physical world, she possessed a fully formed, solid body.
"...Though, for an inner world, it's quite disastrous."
Ignoring Heinkel’s commentary, Alon asked a question.
"...I thought you couldn't use magic?"
"That's right."
"Then how...?"
"Well—don't be in such a rush. I came here specifically to explain that. Sit down for now."
Following the motion of Heinkel’s hand, Alon saw a desk and chairs had appeared in the middle of the ruined world.
As he sat down, Alon asked, "But why did we come into my inner world?"
"Hmm?"
"Couldn't we have talked in the library? Even if it's for security, this seems a bit excessive."
Heinkel stared at Alon for a long time, as if debating whether or not to tell him something. But after a moment, she let out a light sigh and swallowed whatever she was going to say.
"Well, there are reasons for that—"
She waved it off. "I heard from Penia that you're curious why the mages are so obsessed with basic calculations?"
"Yes."
"It's simple. This research has opened a new path for mages."
"...Pardon?"
"To be precise, should I call it a new calculation method? Well, strictly speaking, it's a byproduct of interpreting the magic. It turns out that byproduct is going to be a huge help."
"...What kind of byproduct?"
"I'll explain the details later. It's longer than you'd think. To use a simple analogy, it's like discovering multiplication and division in a world of mathematics that only had addition and subtraction."
Having said that, Heinkel moved on to the main point.
"Now, here is the real issue."
"Has there been a setback in the magic research?"
At Alon’s question, she shook her head.
"No, nothing like that. In fact, the magic is being interpreted at an unusually fast pace. Soon, the interpretation of four of the 2nd Tier spells will be complete."
"...Then what is it?"
Heinkel paused, seemingly contemplating where to begin. Then, she spoke slowly.
"Actually, there isn't a 'problem' per se."
"...Yes?"
"It's just that I've discovered a rather unsettling fact."
"What kind of fact?"
She began to speak in a quiet, measured tone.
"Alon, do you remember what I told you before? That if you interpret all the current magic, it becomes the magic of a Magus."
"I could hardly forget."
"And do you remember me saying that from the 1st Tier to the 8th Tier, once interpreted, there is no difference in 'tier'—only different abilities, but equal strength?"
"I remember that as well."
When Alon answered immediately, Heinkel quickly corrected herself.
"I'm sorry, Alon. I was wrong."
"...? What do you mean?"
"I recently tried interpreting an 8th Tier spell."
She added that since she now had 'friends' to handle the tedious, repetitive work of the 2nd Tier for her, she had decided to see just how absurd the 8th Tier would be, given how much more difficult interpretation became as the tiers rose.
Alon asked cautiously, "...And? How was it?"
"I spent nearly a month on it. In truth, I gained almost nothing. But ironically, I was able to realize the essence of that magic."
Heinkel frowned as she searched her memories.
"...That magic, at least in my judgment, was omnipotent."
"Omni... potent?"
"Of course, the interpretation isn't finished, so I don't know the specifics. I asked Jack Sparrow, and he said that even in the forgotten era, no one could wield this. In other words, this 8th Tier magic..."
"...Are you saying it's magic from an era even older than the Age of Gods?"
"Exactly."
Heinkel let out a long breath.
"Jack Sparrow was surprised, but he accepted it. There was always a theory that the Phrases and Sentences were created in a past that even they couldn't remember."
Alon nodded at Heinkel’s words. He had certainly heard such stories before.
"Then, isn't that a good thing?"
"From the perspective that we can use such magic just by interpreting it, yes, it's positive. However—from a historical perspective, it's negative."
"...Why is that?"
He was momentarily puzzled, but Heinkel’s next words hit him like a bolt of lightning.
"Think about it, Alon. This world has repeatedly faced destruction, and nothing was ever passed down. Even though such omnipotent magic existed in the distant past."
"!"
Alon reached a sudden, chilling realization.
* * *
A bleak, overcast sky.
The ground was a tangled mess of countless roots from the World Tree. And within a massive, completely shattered temple built upon that land, two figures stood.
On one side sat the Apostle of Wrath, draped in a black hood, occupying the seat of honor. On the other side...
"Heh—are you surprised I'm alive?"
The Apostle of Mysophobia—no, the Apostle of Jealousy—spoke, his voice dripping with mockery.
A moment of silence followed. The first to break it was the Apostle of Wrath.
"So, you survived."
The Apostle of Wrath spoke in a flat, monotone voice. The Apostle of Jealousy smirked in response.
"Yeah, I'm alive. I'd already set up plenty of insurance."
"I thought I destroyed every last one of those hidden clumps of cells—it seems you had even more tucked away."
"Bingo. And I hid them in a place you'd never find."
Watching Jealousy’s lips curl further into a sneer, Wrath continued calmly.
"So—did you come here because you want to die again? Or is it for revenge?"
"As if. I know well enough that I can't beat you."
"You know that, and yet you came?"
"Yeah. Because I'm holding your weakness."
At that statement, Wrath lifted his head, which had been obscured by the shadows of the hood, and looked at him.
"Weakness?"
"That's right. Your weakness."
"My weakness, you say—"
"Your identity."
Wrath stared at the sneering Jealousy and replied nonchalantly. His voice rang out like the scraping of metal.
"I don't understand. How is that a weakness that would stop me from killing you?"
Despite Wrath’s dismissive attitude, Jealousy maintained a look of complete confidence.
"True. If your identity was just some demon who happened to live a long time, it wouldn't be a weakness."
He pulled the corners of his mouth up into a wide grin.
"But it is a weakness for you. Apostle of Wrath. Or rather—"
He enunciated each syllable clearly.
"Should I call you Yutia Bloodia?"
A heavy silence followed.
The Apostle of Wrath, who had been silent and motionless, slowly reached up and pulled back the hood.
"Hmm—"
What was revealed was a cascade of white hair and a voice as beautiful as jade beads rolling on a tray.
The Apostle of Wrath—no.
"I didn't think I'd be found out."
Yutia Bloodia smiled, her lips parting slightly.
"I've been caught, haven't I?"
Her crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light.