Chapter 38: Colony, the City in the Desert (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 38: Colony, the City in the Desert (3)
Rian Argulus did not like lies.
In fact, she loathed them.
This hatred stemmed from her life as the daughter of the Red Tower Master. While she enjoyed immense privilege, she had also been subjected to countless deceptions and schemes in equal measure.
...Lies so intense they had left her traumatized.
Consequently, she possessed a near-pathological aversion to dishonesty. Due to her childhood trauma, she felt an even deeper revulsion if the liar happened to be a mage.
In that sense, Rian Argulus couldn't help but instinctively despise Count Palatio from the moment they met.
Contrary to the rumors that the Count had played a pivotal role in capturing an Outer God, he was weak.
Though she lacked the innate 'Eye' required to become a high-tier mage, Rian possessed enough talent to easily perceive Alon’s mana.
It was a paltry, measly amount.
He was certainly a mage, but his mana was so insignificant that he seemed barely capable of reaching the 2nd Tier. This observation brought another rumor to mind.
Following the claim of his contribution against the Outer God, she had heard that he was the benefactor of Deus Macallian, one of the Master Knights.
From that point on, a story formed in Rian’s mind: a tale of a man who had usurped Deus Macallian’s achievements. This narrative quickly solidified into an absolute truth in her head.
And that perceived truth fueled her contempt for the Count.
Yes, that was certainly how she felt.
‘But... how?’
Rian stared at Alon, her expression frozen in shock.
More accurately, she was staring at the phenomenon he had manifested.
With him at the center, a vast area had been transformed. In the middle of this scorching desert, he had created a space so frigid it chilled the very lungs.
Rian couldn't comprehend the situation, especially as she watched frost begin to coat the surrounding sands.
This was absolutely not a spell that could be cast with the amount of mana Alon possessed.
But that wasn't all.
Even if she didn't understand how the magic had been manifested, she could recognize its structure.
‘Composite Magic... and at least a triple-link at that!’
Composite Magic.
The theoretical explanation was long and complex, but simply put, it involved linking two or more spells to manifest them simultaneously.
Naturally, linking magic was no easy feat.
While various elements were required to manifest a spell, one ultimately had to adhere to the basic array structure.
Linking meant this: a mage had to be capable of redefining individual spells—which would fail if even a single part of the structure was misaligned—using their own unique equations. The difficulty increased exponentially with every additional spell added to the link.
In short, it was a technique usually reserved for mages of at least the 5th Tier.
As Rian watched Alon prepare his next move in a daze—
“!”
In the next instant, she saw it.
The man with the eyepatch, who had been standing before her just a moment ago, was suddenly right in front of Alon.
It happened so fast that no one could react.
Realizing instinctively that protecting Alon was their best chance at winning this battle, the mercenaries belatedly turned their bodies.
Rian also instinctively began to prepare a spell to assist him, but it was already too late.
The man with the eyepatch was already wearing a grisly smirk, his hand poised to swing his double-curved sword.
However, what Rian witnessed was not the sight of Alon’s head being severed—
“Freeze.”
Cr-crack!
—but the sight of the man, who had been mid-swing, instantly turning into ice.
Frozen in the very act of attacking, the man became an icy statue in a heartbeat.
“Shatter.”
With that low murmur from Alon’s lips—
Crunch! Shatter!
With the sound of splintering ice, the corpse of the man who had just plunged everyone into despair broke into a thousand tiny fragments.
Silence fell.
“Phew.”
A low sigh escaped Alon’s lips, accompanied by a puff of white mist.
Alon withdrew his hands, which had been forming seals that even Rian couldn't fully recognize.
“I’ll give you a chance.”
As if he had anticipated this entire outcome, Alon spoke without a hint of emotion, his gaze indifferently sweeping over the bandits who were now paralyzed with tension.
“Get lost.”
It was a low sentence, but his intent was clear to everyone.
Having lost their leader in a single blow, the bandits murmured amongst themselves for a moment before turning tail and fleeing as one.
Watching Alon calmly deactivate his magic as if nothing had happened—
“...”
Rian continued to stare at him, realizing just how ignorant she had been.
A small spark of admiration flickered in her eyes.
* * *
Watching the hesitant bandits vanish into the distance, Alon felt a wave of relief and a touch of bewilderment behind his expressionless mask.
‘The process was a bit different than I expected, but I’m glad it worked out as intended.’
Alon knew about the Blood Sand Bandits.
They appeared in a sub-story of the game. In the game, this bandit group had a trait where the members would scatter if their leader was taken out. That was why he had aimed to eliminate the leader quickly, and he had succeeded.
...Though it was unexpected that the guy would charge in and get hit before I had even finished manipulating the magic array.
‘I guess reducing the penalty was the key.’
Alon felt the scorching heat of the desert beginning to seep back into his lungs.
The chill that had radiated from him earlier was a spell he had spent over six months devising since returning from Calliban: ‘Severe Cold.’
This spell, which required the simultaneous use of space magic, ice magic, and maintenance magic, did nothing more than temporarily change the local environment to match the ‘Severe Cold’ of the North. However, that was exactly what Alon needed.
‘Severe Cold’ allowed him to partially satisfy one of the four constraints he had set to kill the Outer God: ‘Magic can twist the laws of the world when cast upon the land of severe cold.’
In other words, this spell was crucial because it reduced his four penalties to three.
The negative consequences of the constraints significantly hampered Alon’s magical abilities.
‘The spell I created to link with Severe Cold worked well, too. There’s a huge difference between having one less penalty. Though, thanks to the belt, the magic itself is... even stronger than I originally thought.’
He felt a brief moment of surprise at the power.
‘Well, a win is a win.’
Shrugging his shoulders, Alon consciously reached out and toyed with the accessory at his waist—the ‘Belt of the Forgotten,’ set with three amethysts—and smiled.
In the game, this item doubled the damage taken but also doubled the damage dealt. Its effect was clearly being applied even to Alon, who bore three penalties.
‘...If I can get “that” here, I might be able to eliminate one more penalty.’
With that thought, Alon naturally unfastened the belt and tucked it into his pocket.
‘Still, I need to tweak Severe Cold. The duration is too short compared to the fact that it consumes three spell slots. It barely lasts a minute... I should look into that.’
Lost in thought, he returned to the carriage.
Starting from that day and continuing through the next—as they drew closer to the desert city—two things changed for Alon.
“Oh, Count Palatio! This is a special wine produced in Gur, and they say the taste is exquisite. Would you care for a glass?”
“Thank you.”
“Ah, and this is a ham I brought to sell as a local specialty in the next city. Would you like to try some? It’s very delicious...!”
The first change was the 180-degree flip in the attitude of Rad, the leader of the Golden Foot Merchant Group.
As if he were willing to give up his very soul, Rad spent the night preparing all sorts of gifts—surpassing even what he had offered Rian over the past few days.
“If there is anything else you desire, please do not hesitate to tell me!”
He rubbed his hands together so fervently it seemed they might disappear, then bowed deeply and scurried away.
“The man has changed 180 degrees—no, 360 degrees!” Evan remarked.
“...Doesn't 360 degrees mean he’s exactly the same?”
“I just mean his reaction has changed that much.”
The second change was—
“Count Palatio.”
“...Rian Argulus?”
“Yes. If it’s not an intrusion, I was hoping we could have a discussion about magic. Would that be alright?”
Rian Argulus’s attitude toward Alon had also shifted completely.
On the night the bandits attacked, Rian had approached Alon and bowed her head at a perfect right angle—a head that seemed like it would never bend—to apologize. From the next day onward, she began visiting him frequently to ask questions about magic.
“Ah, so in this part, you arbitrarily arrange the mana array—”
“Right. To use a composite, you mustn't break the array in the end. Instead of fixing the array structure, you twist it through rotation—”
Conversations with Rian Argulus were quite beneficial for Alon.
As someone who had been purely self-taught and used Phrases to twist the properties of magic, Rian’s questions and academic knowledge were very helpful.
Furthermore, when he explained array structures that were slightly superior to hers, her quiet reactions—like “Ooh...” or “Wow...”—were quite satisfying, whether they were conscious or not.
Of course, as their conversations grew more frequent, the burdened look of admiration she gave him became a bit awkward.
“Here.”
“This is...?”
“A potion.”
Today, as soon as their conversation ended, Rian naturally held out a mana recovery potion.
It wasn't top-grade like the ones Penia had given him, but the ones she had been offering for the past few days were still quite expensive. Alon felt a bit sheepish behind his stoic face.
“...You don't need to bring a gift every time you visit.”
“I am the one receiving instruction. Please, take it without feeling burdened.”
Since she always practically forced the potions on him, he ended up with about four mana potions by the time they reached the desert city.
* * *
After a journey of over a week, Alon arrived at the desert city. He parted ways with Rad, who told him to call whenever he needed anything, and Rian, who said she would visit again to offer a formal apology.
“...I can understand the merchant, but the Tower Master’s daughter changed so much it’s hard to get used to,” Evan muttered, watching Rian depart.
Entering the desert city after those words, Alon leisurely scanned his surroundings.
The buildings were a sandy hue, not unlike the capital of Asteria, but the massive Colosseum—visible even from the southern gate as a symbol of Colony—was truly overwhelming.
‘It looks like it could hold over a hundred thousand people.’
After admiring the massive structure that loomed over the city, Alon and Evan began walking toward the location where Seolrang was supposed to be.
Twenty minutes later.
“Hey there, Mr. Noble. Why don't we have a little chat?”
“...”
Alon was accosted.
Standing before him and Evan was a group of over ten men who practically had ‘thug’ written across their faces.
Strangely, however, the mercenaries nearby didn't lift a finger, simply watching the scene unfold.
In fact, some watched with amused expressions as if this were a common occurrence, while others simply looked away, pretending not to see.
It was a very bizarre situation.
“If the talk goes well, I might even introduce you to our big brother, ‘Malliam.’ How about it?”
But the words that followed from the thug’s mouth made Alon understand the situation.
‘...These guys must be Malliam’s subordinates.’
Recalling the name of Malliam—one of the only four Babayaga in Colony, known by the epithet ‘Monstrosity’—Alon realized his mistake.
‘This is Malliam’s territory.’
Remembering that thugs like these appeared to shake people down whenever they entered Malliam’s territory in the game, Alon let out a resigned sigh.
‘...Do I just have to let them rob me?’
He knew that fighting here was a poor move.
It would be easy to deal with the thugs blocking the path, but doing so would mean making an enemy of one of the four Babayaga.
Since that would create unnecessary restrictions for Alon, who had to operate in Colony for several days, he reached into his coat.
Tap.
“Hey, you sighing right in front of us?”
The thug, who had been wearing a twisted grin, flicked Alon’s forehead.
He smirked as if he were dealing with a pathetic child.
The moment Evan instinctively scowled and reached for his sword—
BOOM!
The man who had flicked Alon’s forehead was suddenly sent flying sideways.
It happened in the blink of an eye.
Evan and Alon looked on in confusion as the man crashed into a nearby building, while the smirks on the other thugs’ faces instantly froze.
“Excuse me—”
And then.
“What do you think you’re doing to my mentor?”
Crackle!
“Hmm? Tell me.”
—along with a flash of lightning.
“Tell me what you just did.”
The thugs’ faces began to fill with shock and terror.
“I said, talk.”
Golden eyes blazed with light.