Let's Go to the Iron Tower #1
Have you ever been beaten with meat? There might be people willing to get hit with money, but finding someone who'd volunteer to take a beating from a hunk of meat is damn near impossible.
Yet here was someone enduring that absurd ordeal: Lawrence's brother, Loras Montemer.
"S-Stop! Stooop—!"
"Quit whining. Take more, take it."
Crack!
The troll meat chunk was truly mysterious. Somehow, it left bruises on impact, yet the meat itself remained utterly unscathed—springy and pristine. Everyone watching was at a loss for words.
If it had been a training weapon used by knight cadets, they could've at least called it inhumane. Broken bones from such gear were commonplace in training.
But this? It looked like a tomahawk steak that'd taste divine grilled up.
"The young master really.... He did tell you not to mess around with food."
"……."
The maids, who had quietly settled beside Rachel to watch, trembled with queasy expressions.
Rumors had circulated in the estate: screams, crashing furniture, and inexplicable thwacking sounds echoing from within. Those rumors weren't entirely off-base, it seemed.
'Like master, like maid! They're both insane! Totally insane!'
'What did we ever do to deserve this lunatic...'
'Better to ship him off quick. Call it a strategic retreat.'
The maids realized the source of Rachel's merciless nature. Lawrence Montemer—a perfect little tyrant, utterly unworthy of a noble mage family's dignity. Living under him must have drilled survival instincts into her. Maybe she was the pitiful one...?
Their thoughts spiraled into confusion.
"Stop! We'll end it here!"
"Phew, already?"
"H-He's passed out, young master. Any more, and it could lead to serious injury."
Only after the referee mage hurriedly intervened did the gruesome, grotesque beating finally cease. Lawrence wiped sweat from his brow, looking refreshed. It had been ages since he'd savored that exhilarating hand feel—an irreplaceable sensation that almost tempted him to make it his signature weapon.
'Gotta try dragon meat next time.'
Blasphemous thought. Please withdraw it.
Even the usually silent system chimed in to rein him in. Meat was Lawrence's true love.
"Useless fool.... You take over from here. Something urgent just came up."
"Understood, Madam."
Media Montemer, who had witnessed the entire horrific scene without missing a beat, shot Loras a look of utter contempt before departing. Sticking around longer might tempt her to kill Lawrence herself.
And that would spell irreversible disaster.
[Eckel, follow me.]
She sent a message spell to Eckel Yurgo, who lurked quietly in the corner, then headed to her office. Let them handle the rest. She'd judged it wiser to focus on future plans—especially to cool her rage.
"Haaaah.... Eckel, are you there?"
"You called, Madam?"
"That brat's maid—is she still well brainwashed?"
"Yes. I'm about to hit 5th Circle myself soon. The higher my magical attainment, the less anyone will notice."
Media took solace in the one piece of good news amid her frustration. Right. Loras was still young. And even without him, plenty of pawns could devour this family. Her eldest son, her eldest daughter... they were all her children. No need to cling to a failure like Loras.
Lawrence's place would shrink away regardless.
"Hoo.... I let my emotions get the better of me. How unbecoming...."
"It's fine. And it seems we have a guest outside."
"Oh."
Media's icy expression softened instantly into warmth. Eckel instinctively knew it was time to withdraw. He bowed, reported his tasks, and exited the office.
"I'll report regularly. I'll reinforce her brainwashing periodically too."
"Mm, good. You're dismissed."
"Yes."
As Eckel opened the office door, a man caught his eye. First impression: dazzlingly handsome. He exuded a cold yet noble aura. Eckel bowed in greeting and moved on. The man gave a slight nod in return before entering.
Seeing Media, he smiled softly.
"Hope I'm not interrupting."
"Oh, don't say that. How could your visit ever be an interruption?"
"How've you been, my love?"
"Some frustrations, but it's fine now. Now that you're here."
Click.
The office door locked via magic. The two pressed close, bodies nearly touching as they conversed. The air grew thick and sticky.
"So, which fool ruffled your feathers? I could fix it in a flash."
"Not yet.... The time isn't right. He's about to enter the mage tower, so we prepare for two years."
"Speaking of, I heard the Alzeras family turned to undead.... Any intel?"
"No business talk. I don't know much anyway. Right now.... I just want to unwind a bit."
Media's slender fingers caressed the man's face. He responded in kind to her gestures.
After the unconscious Loras was carted off, Loria Montemer approached Lawrence. The remaining duels, hosted by another mage, wrapped up as a reasonably successful spectacle.
"Lawrence, how long are you gonna keep using that barbaric weapon?"
"Why? The hand feel is pure thrill."
"Ugh.... This was a mage duel. Why not use magic?"
"A mage's enemies aren't just other mages. Old texts mention mages fighting up close, right?"
Their gazes naturally drifted to the bulkiest figure present: the master of the Iron Tower.
Battle mages. Mages who could stand toe-to-toe with knights and win. Human weapons capable of single-handedly turning the tide of battle. Needing no infantry protection, they excelled in guerrilla warfare, assassinations, base demolitions—any mission imaginable.
Loria dimly grasped the future Lawrence envisioned.
'You're trying to walk a path the Montemers have never trod.'
It was a mindset so admirable it shamed her past self. She resolved to train harder, to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her siblings.
"By the way, sis, which tower did you train at?"
"Red Tower. Flames suit me best."
"That's why you're teamed with Lady Freya?"
"Yep. Anyway! Work hard there. I'll visit."
Lawrence smiled, watching Loria pat his shoulder and leave. Relationships utterly unlike his past life. They would gather, coalesce into immense power.
He couldn't threaten Media yet, but soon he'd tighten the noose. And uncover the truth behind his mother's death and the family's fall.
Guardians, dragons, distortions.... Mysteries abounded, problems piled high.
'I need to grow stronger. Strong enough to handle it all alone.'
More artifacts, more crafting, stronger and more numerous guardians. He needed legions loyal solely to him, marching toward the same goal.
'Time to live greedily.'
The things he'd craved. The injustices, the tears. He'd claim recompense for it all—no more denying his desires.
Lost in thought, a massive shadow loomed. A physique that could rival any knight: the Iron Tower master.
"You possess an intriguing ability. I look forward to hearing about it someday, young master."
"You're practically my master now, so feel free to drop the formalities."
"Hohoho! You honor this old man. You've clearly not neglected physical training, have you?"
"Yes. Mages aren't always safe."
Iron Hanma nodded vigorously. Spot on. Mages wield spells, but frailty is unforgivable. Arrogant knights always sneered: get close, and mages are helpless. It was drilled into cadets at the Imperial Knight Academy.
"You could humble those cocky knights."
"That's the plan."
Knights. He'd face hordes of them. Brimming with pride in their sturdy bodies, they dismissed mages as weaklings or sardines.
And they weren't wrong. Mages rarely trained their flesh.
Lawrence stood.
"I won't lose to academy cadets. I'll master both magic and martial arts."
"Heh heh heh. That's the battle mage spirit. Pack your things—I'll wait."
"My stuff's pretty far. Wanna come along?"
"That warehouse, eh? Fine."
By his return, the annex would be gone or claimed by others. No matter. In two years, a new base—somewhere quiet to build power, overlooking all Montemer affairs.
"Rachel, let's go."
"Yes! Oh, hello! I'm maid Rachel!"
"Pleased to meet ya. Name's Iron Hanma."
"Rachel grills steaks to perfection, you know."
"Ohooo, music to my ears—that's the best news I've heard all day!"
The trio strolled side by side, chatting amiably. Eyes watched them intently.
"Ugh, I won't lose either! I'll be an even greater mage!"
Arthur Goldvein, set to enter the Golden Tower per family tradition, burned with rivalry for their next encounter.
Of course, Lawrence didn't hear.
'Lawrence Montemer...'
And Piaje Bricksir of the heterochromatic eyes would join both Red and Blue Towers as a joint disciple—one year each. An unusual curriculum to maximize her unique ability.
She vowed to surpass Lawrence next time.
"Tower tournament, academy duel.... And missions...."
Two years held plenty in store. Chances to clash aplenty.
She'd eclipse the new monster: Lawrence Montemer.
"Wow, that much meat?"
"You bet!"
To Lawrence, though, meat mattered more. Now, it was time for the Iron Tower—a golden opportunity, as creator and mage alike.