Chapter 50: The Magic Society (3)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 50: The Magic Society (3)
Labyrinth City Lartania.
At the pinnacle of this city—where the depths remain undiscovered, where treasures and artifacts multiply the deeper one descends, and where countless mercenaries and explorers reside—stand the 5 Great Guilds.
Bloody Iron.
Terra Nomad.
Arcadia.
Ancient Chaser.
Kalimadra.
These five guilds possessed military might far beyond any ordinary mercenary or explorer group; the gap between them and the ragtag guilds was incomparable. The masters of these five guilds were warriors so powerful they could practically be called superhumans rather than mere mortals.
One of them, Alderic—the Guild Master of Bloody Iron, a man who earned the moniker "The Butcher" after single-handedly slaughtering over a thousand monsters on the 10th Layer—was currently descending the Labyrinth.
However, his reason for descending today was not to reach the lowest depths, but rather because of a massive commission offered to Bloody Iron.
‘Capture a single monster on the 20th Layer alive… huh.’
Alderic wore a peculiar expression as he carried an axe the size of his own body over his shoulder.
The nature of the request was, frankly, a bit strange.
In the Lartania Labyrinth, every fifth floor is a space devoid of monsters, a feature that hardly fits the name "Labyrinth." Of course, as one goes deeper, the scenery of these multiples of five—known to mercenaries as "Safety Layers"—changes into terrain with mysterious structures or buildings, but they remained fundamentally monster-free.
Yet, this high-paying commission specifically mentioned a monster on the 20th Layer, a Safety Layer. It was bound to be suspicious.
Nevertheless, the reason he had led his subordinates down to the 20th Layer was that the advance payment was astronomical. Above all, the client had stated one thing clearly:
Even if the mission failed, the down payment would not be returned.
That was why Alderic was currently standing on the 20th Layer.
‘It could be a trap.’
The thought crossed his mind, but he wasn't particularly afraid. For someone who usually played on the 50th Layer—the current "lowest" known floor—he was confident he could return immediately even if something went wrong on the 20th.
And so, as Alderic descended with his men…
"We’ve reached the 20th Layer."
They arrived exactly where the client had specified.
His subordinates looked out over the landscape of the 20th Layer, which was dotted with massive ruins.
"…What is that?"
"A monster?"
"…Whoa, Boss, there really is a monster here."
Surprisingly, just as the client had said, a monster was visible.
"But wait…"
"Isn't that just a goblin?"
"It really is."
And not just any monster, but a goblin—the creature considered the weakest of all.
"There’s an actual monster on the 20th Layer?"
"Wow, so if we just catch that thing and go back, we get the rest of the money on top of the advance?"
"This is a total Golden Goblin."
"It’s even wearing clothes like a proper Golden Goblin. What is that? Eastern clothing?"
Alderic’s subordinates snickered, pointing at the creature. As mercenaries who explored the deepest layers, everyone gathered here had experience exterminating thousands of goblins.
In that moment of collective mockery…
"Sigh—"
The goblin, which had been staring blankly at the ruins until a moment ago, let out a low sigh and turned around.
"Insects. So noisy."
With a voice so clear it was unbelievable for a goblin, and with eyes more lethargic than anything else in the world, the creature flicked its finger.
From left to right.
And then.
"Huh—?"
The upper and lower halves of the mercenaries, who had been laughing just a second ago, were cleanly severed.
That was it.
Thud.
With that pathetic sound, five mercenaries who had been with Alderic for years were killed in an instant.
The moment Alderic felt an instinctive threat and raised his axe, he saw it.
He saw the goblin’s eyes looking back at him.
In those eyes, which were far too intelligent for a goblin, only two emotions were visible.
Pride—
Thud.
—and Contempt.
…That was the last thing Alderic ever saw.
There was no "next."
His consciousness faded into black amidst the horrific screams of his remaining mercenaries.
Not long after, the one who had disposed of every mercenary on the 20th Layer—no.
The King of all Hungry Ghosts.
He began to move toward the surface.
* * *
Generally, the friendly matches that follow the discussions at the Magic Society take the form of a designated mage stepping forward and nominating an opponent.
In other words, they could challenge any mage gathered there to watch the duel.
Of course, the mage with the right to nominate didn't just challenge anyone. Challenging a mage of too low a grade would lead to rumors of bullying someone of a lower Tier. Conversely, nominating a mage of too high a grade could lead to public embarrassment and offend the opponent.
Mages were, by nature, a prideful lot.
Thus, it was common sense for the nominating mage to choose someone of a similar level. Alon was well aware of this.
‘…Baruc’s Tier was around the 4th Tier, wasn't it?’
Feeling the weight of the interested gazes, Alon recalled Rian, who had looked at Baruc with a deep scowl yesterday.
‘One Tier higher than me.’
In the world of mages, Tiers made a massive difference. The higher the Tier, the wider the gap became; by the time one reached the 7th or 8th Tier, a single Tier's difference meant an astronomical gap in power.
‘…To be at the 4th Tier at that age, while not quite at Penia’s level, he certainly falls into the category of a genius.’
As Alon mused while looking at Baruc—who didn't seem that old despite his appearance—Baruc suddenly spoke.
"Surely the mage who was such a great help in capturing that mighty Outer God isn't getting cold feet, is he?"
It was a provocation so blatant that even the mages watching with interest flinched. Baruc’s words clearly implied that Alon’s reputation might be nothing but hot air. Alon could easily grasp Baruc’s intention.
‘He’s trying to humiliate me.’
Alon didn't know exactly why Baruc was doing this. However, for the current Alon, knowing the intent was enough.
‘If someone tries to screw you over for no reason, give them a reason.’
Alon was not so benevolent as to tolerate someone trying to shame him for no reason—especially an opponent who didn't seem particularly difficult to beat.
‘I’ll get to test this in a real fight sooner than I thought.’
Alon quietly slipped the gauntlet from his pocket onto his index finger and spoke.
"I accept."
And with that, the duel was set.
* * *
‘It went exactly as planned.’
Baruc, the son of the Purple Tower Master and a 4th Tier mage like Rian, smiled as he felt the gazes of the mages pouring over him and Alon, who was staring back with an expressionless face.
Naturally, provoking Alon and dragging him into the arena was all part of Baruc’s plan. More accurately, it was a plan to secure more of the spotlight for himself.
Of course, the title of "Son of the Purple Tower Master" gave him plenty of influence within the Magic Society. However, he needed more power to exert even greater influence, so he decided to use Count Palatio, whom he had heard arrived at the Society yesterday.
The Count Palatio who was surrounded by all sorts of rumors.
"……."
Baruc looked at Alon with a predatory smirk. He knew very well what kind of rumors followed Alon.
That he had contributed greatly to dealing with the Outer God in the North.
That recently, in the desert city Colony, he had been a great help to the Golden Flash in dealing with two Babayagas who had attempted an ambush.
On top of that, the most unbelievable rumor of all was spreading: that since yesterday, he had made that brat Penia act like a gentle lamb.
Because of this, the mages of the Society currently held Alon’s magic in very high regard based on these rumors. In other words, if the rumors were true, Baruc was essentially doing something stupid by trying to raise his own name at Alon's expense. But he hadn't set this stage without thinking.
Baruc subtly raised his right hand toward Alon and pushed mana into the plain ring on his finger.
Wuuuung—
With a faint resonance and a movement of mana so minute that other mages wouldn't notice, a number began to etch itself onto the ring.
The number 3.
Baruc’s lips curled into a smirk as he saw the number 3.
The ring he wore was an artifact that could roughly determine an opponent's Tier and mana capacity by projecting a very weak amount of mana.
‘Weak, as expected.’
Just like yesterday, and just like when he had checked right before his final provocation, he confirmed the ring displayed the 3rd Tier and smiled.
This ring was what Baruc trusted. This artifact, which could confirm an opponent's Tier with only a small projection of mana even if they were of a higher Tier, was usually not very useful, but it had many uses within the Magic Society.
Thanks to this ring, Baruc could identify mages who lied about their level for the sake of their pride and use them as stepping stones.
‘And thanks to it, I’ve hooked a big fish like this.’
It was only because he trusted this ring that Baruc could provoke Alon without hesitation.
"Are both sides ready?"
"Ready."
"Yes."
Answering the question that came as he was lost in thought, Baruc lightly drew up his mana.
‘…The rumor about that brat following him like a lamb is a bit bothersome, but the ring is certain. He probably isn't groveling because of magic skill.’
Baruc pondered how to "cook" Alon.
‘Should I end it immediately? No. If it ends too quickly, there might not be enough impact. Should I toy with him slowly?’
‘But I shouldn't drag it out too long. If it’s revealed that the Count’s skill is all a lie, my own reputation might unnecessarily decrease… Right, ending it somewhat early would be best.’
He gripped his staff, already imagining how he would finish Alon.
"As both sides are aware, magic that threatens the opponent's life is subject to sanction, so please adjust your power. Now—"
Tap!
"Begin!"
The duel commenced as the referee mage’s staff lightly struck the ground. Baruc, about to move with a confident smile, suddenly paused.
"?"
He realized that white mist was escaping his mouth.
It happened so instantaneously that he didn't even perceive it properly. Bewildered, Baruc soon realized the air reaching his lungs was freezing cold.
Just as he was about to question it…
"Huh?"
Cr-crack!
He belatedly noticed that his calves were freezing over.
Cr-cr-crack!
It wasn't just his calves.
"!"
By the time he realized it, the entire arena was freezing.
The pure white frost forming on the ground expanded its territory in an instant, turning everything nearby into a frozen ground.
And in the center of that frozen wasteland…
He saw him.
"……."
Expressionless and indifferent.
Wearing Black Fingerless Gauntlets that bled ominous black mana, freezing everything in sight.
The man stood tall and noble upon the arena.
"Ah."
And Baruc realized.
Something had gone terribly wrong.
However, by the time he realized it—
"Fame of Snow Mountain."
—Alon had already uttered the Sentence.