Chapter 199
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 199
Chapter Title: Changes.
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As the saying goes, "rivers and mountains change"—no one can predict how the world will turn.
Proof of that was the current situation in London.
Ever since the fog rolled in on the first night of Walpurgis Night, drastic changes had swept through the city.
"That's the item that drives away the fog, right?"
"Yeah! I saw its effects with my own eyes yesterday."
"To develop something like that... as expected of the Makers Guild."
Members of the Makers Guild wandering London's streets, erecting hundreds of staffs and pillars—that was a big change in itself.
But the real seismic shift was in the city's power dynamics.
And in the eyes of its citizens.
"Even so, can they really eliminate Twilight Hour with that?"
"Of course. It's Lady Archmage herself leading this. You think she'd fail?"
"Still, the Ciserpent Count House couldn't touch it for decades."
"That's why it's even more impressive. Even if it fails, it's better than cowering like cowards and not trying at all."
"Hey, watch your mouth calling them cowards!"
Originally, the Ciserpent Count House held a slight edge over the Makers Guild in influence within the British Empire.
But after the gala incident, that balance tipped sharply toward the Makers Guild.
The admiration and expectations once directed at the Count House knights now turned to the Makers Guild players.
"Have you forgotten how hard the Count House knights worked during that chaos the other evening?"
"The Makers Guild helped just as much."
"But...!"
"Look, I know the Count House's favors well. But the Makers Guild stepping up to end Twilight Hour—that actually stops it, doesn't it?"
"......"
As favor poured toward the Makers Guild, the prestige of the Ciserpent Count House plummeted.
Word had spread from gala attendees that Rose had opposed Karl's plan to eliminate Twilight Hour.
It was inevitable.
Twilight Hour was London's terror.
The Makers Guild volunteered to end it, while the Ciserpent Count House opposed.
Any citizen would naturally side with the former—especially right after experiencing that evening fog.
Those claiming the Count House opposed out of fear of mishandling a curse and causing a rampage were the mild ones.
The harsher voices accused Rose of obstructing the Makers Guild's achievements to preserve the family's power and influence.
A family that had protected the Empire for generations, running countless charities.
Yet centuries of reputation were overturned by the Makers Guild, which hadn't even existed for a few decades.
At this point, even the merciful Azure Dragon clan would be outraged.
But the Count House remained silent.
They simply patrolled as always, maintaining order.
No interference in the Makers Guild's work, no explanations—just steadfast routine.
Critics shouted it was proof of guilt; even defenders began harboring doubts.
...Unaware that someone was steering public opinion.
'Finally.'
The tower soaring in central London.
The Makers Guild headquarters, one of the city's twin symbols alongside Ciserpent Manor.
Commonly called the Mage Tower, its pinnacle held an old man with snow-white hair and a flowing beard, lost in sentiment.
'At last.'
It had been a truly long time.
Rushing into dungeons the moment the Iron Age dawned, risking life to level up.
Researching magic system skills, using them as bait to gather players and build power.
Whittling away the Azure Dragon clan's influence under the guise of treaties, growing the Makers Guild to rival the Count House.
Secretly backing the royal family, puppets of the Azure Dragons, to forge new pacts.
For the oldest player alive, this culmination of nearly a lifetime's devotion stirred old memories.
Click.
Were distant memories resurfacing?
Karl opened the locket on his necklace.
Gazing wistfully at the photo inside.
"Just wait a little longer, Amelia."
"It'll all be over soon."
"Their deceptions, the curse dominating London..."
He murmured like a prayer, clutching the locket.
Then, re-fastening it around his neck, he spun on his heel and strode into the tower.
To prepare for tomorrow's ritual to end Twilight Hour.
Makers Guild Concert
Date: Third day of Walpurgis Night, noon (12:00)
Venue: In front of Makers Guild headquarters
Host: Makers Guild
Sponsor: Grand Duke Robert
We invite you to this historic stage where Twilight Hour vanishes.
From the first night's fog chaos to the second day's construction and debates.
Compared to last year's endless merrymaking, this Walpurgis Night had thrown Londoners into unusual turmoil.
And the Makers Guild's announcement was the perfect capstone to that chaos.
A concert at noon—the very start of Twilight Hour? It was gossip fodder enough on its own.
Especially the Guild's claim: that this concert would end Twilight Hour.
The rumor fueled the frenzy.
No one expected the Makers Guild to attempt it in mere days.
But the chaos was short-lived.
The next morning, crowds filled the streets with anticipation, gathering before the Mage Tower.
"Hey, you really going?"
"Have to. Lifetime chance to watch that damn fog vanish."
"But if something goes wrong..."
"Don't jinx it! Know who's leading this? The Magic Lord herself! Think she'd mess up?"
Faith in the Iron Age legend, the Magic Lord, and the Guild at the Empire's heart.
Above all, hope of never fearing fog again— that drove them.
As time passed, throngs swelled; by noon, tens of thousands packed the streets.
Not just common folk.
VIP seats held gala attendees.
Throngs outdoors right before Twilight Hour—a historic moment.
Perhaps that's why.
As noon approached, performers ascending the stage before the Mage Tower wore proud expressions.
Performing at such a pivotal Makers Guild concert was career gold.
The gaze of expectant, hopeful Londoners added pride.
Leading the orchestras filling the stage: three figures.
"Then, as planned—take care."
"No worries. No mistakes in my orchestra."
"I hope my humble singing doesn't drag you down."
Magic Lord Karl in robes and staff, smiling contentedly, fully prepared.
Grand Duke Robert in crisp tuxedo, baton in hand, smug.
And Claire, duke-class player and Liberation Brigade executive, in performance gown.
"Hoho, enough humility, Miss Claire. High-level singers like you are rare across the Empire—no, Europe."
"Thank you for the kind words."
Claire feigned modesty, inwardly grumbling.
She knew her rarity as a high-level singer was why she'd been summoned to this distant land.
But what could she do?
Orders from above were absolute in the Liberation Brigade.
Not ready to die yet, Claire kept her fake smile.
"Alright, let's prepare."
Intolerant of any error.
Karl shook hands and chatted with every performer, double-checking to the last.
Then stepped forward.
Surveyed the scene.
'Countess Rose... really not coming.'
Karl frowned slightly.
Key VIP seats empty; no sign of Rose or her knights among the crowd.
He'd expected her attendance to witness the outcome.
An unexpected no-show.
'Hmph. Countess or princess—still just a girl.'
Recalling reports of her seclusion after the gala shock, he sneered briefly.
But shook it off, gripping his staff tighter.
No room for distractions before his lifelong wish.
His tension rippled outward?
Performers and crowds alike swallowed, falling silent.
Then clock hands overlapped—the awaited signal rang out.
Dong—
"Begin!"
Ding-ding-ding-dang!
Like a thousand iron rods striking a thousand pillars, the bell tolled.
Synced to Grand Duke Robert's baton, stage orchestras played in sequence.
An impromptu performance, no rehearsal.
Yet flawless.
All high-level players here.
Skill activation alone yielded perfect renditions—world-class anywhere.
The symphony echoed across London via installed staffs and pillars.
No ordinary music.
Skills from high-level players: beguile foes, buff allies, shockwaves.
Immense power unified under Robert's command, amplified monstrously through items.
Shhh...
'So the bell was the catalyst!'
Karl's eyes flashed.
Twilight fog, meant to spread with the toll, wavered—disrupted, failing to blanket properly.
Confirming decades of research, Karl gestured lightly.
Robert responded fervently, whipping his baton.
Dong—
Ding-ding-dang, ding-dang!
Bell amid fog.
Elite orchestra performance.
Intertwining in air, windows shattered citywide, atmosphere quaking.
London's ancient mystic barrier—clashing with player skills, wreaking havoc in fallout.
Karl ignored it.
Urged guildmates to amplify via items, sent final signal.
Claire began singing; fog turbulence peaked.
"『Great Elemental Break (Higher Element Decomposition)』!"
Rumble rumble rumble!
Light burst from his staff, scattering in air; encroaching fog shook violently.
Among the era's ten absolute monarchs.
His alone: a 9th-class skill, meshing with echoing performance to repel fog and bell.
Power to obliterate a city if destructive.
Dong—
Yet fog and bell persisted, surging despite disruption.
Worthily blocking even demon gods.
Karl pressed on.
Channeling prepared items into his staff, activating again.
"『Spell Rank Up (Spell Hierarchy Enhancement)』, 『Double Spell (Spell Doubling)』, 『Great Elemental Break (Higher Element Decomposition)』!"
Kwaaaaang!
With his cry, staff light exploded, amplifying into a massive pillar linking heaven and earth.
Crack!
Bell shattered.
Fog dispersed.
Brilliant light bathed London.
"Ooooh!"
"Light! It's sunlight!"
"Never dreamed I'd see noon sky in London in my lifetime...!"
All gathered—no, every Londoner—cheered at sunlight piercing via the pillar.
Many wept in感动.
Half-century fog curse lifted—pure ecstasy.
But Karl didn't share their joy.
Fiddling his locket, he gazed skyward with complex expression.
Happy?
Sad?
Empty?
Lost in swirling, unknowable emotions, he closed his eyes gently.
But he didn't know.
Claire—one of the stage's stars—wore a sly smile.
That from the fog's dissipation, shadows draping London flickered like unchained beasts.
And moments later.
"Kyaaaaack!"
A piercing scream, and shadow waves engulfed London.