Episode 1171
Episode 1171
True to their reputation as battle-hardened black mages, the descendants immediately sensed the hidden danger in the question.
Even though it seemed like an ordinary question, there was something strangely spine-chilling about it.
"...May I ask why you're inquiring about that?"
"Because I'm from the Einrogard Black Magic School?"
"!!!"
The descendants were stunned by his answer.
This greenhorn before them was from the Einrogard Black Magic School?
Then could it be...?!
"Don't tell me you're Lee Han of the Wardanaz family?! The one Mortum wouldn't shut up about?!"
"......"
This time, it was Lee Han's turn to be at a loss for words.
'Professor...!'
He had never felt ashamed of being from the Black Magic School before, but today, he felt a little embarrassed.
"That's correct. ...Professor Mortum speaks so highly of his students because he genuinely cares for them."
"Huh? Did he praise Lafadell too?"
Angrago, who had been listening nearby, asked in confusion. Lee Han immediately scowled.
"Be quiet."
'No...!'
He had said 'students'—plural—so Angrago had just asked!
"If you have the skill to make contact with the Crone, then Mortum's bragging makes sense."
The descendants admitted grudgingly.
With skills like this, Mortum's boasting might have even been an understatement.
Though, to be fair, some of Mortum's bragging had been a bit excessive. Why did he keep repeating things like how Lee Han had single-handedly filled the Black Magic School's treasury?
"I agree. Mortum truly has an exceptional student."
"...No. Why are we suddenly talking about that? What do you mean you deliberately excluded the Einrogard Black Magic School from the invitations?"
"Ah."
Snapped out of their shock, the descendants finally regained their senses.
Come to think of it, their original sin still remained.
The undead from the Legion of Oondorgu, who had been silently observing the conversation, quickly answered.
"Krrrrrrrl (The Descendants of Ahrag promised to invite the Einrogard Black Magic School but intentionally left them out)."
"......"
"Are you seriously doing this? You traitors?"
The descendants were flabbergasted and protested, but the undead merely shrugged.
"Krruk (The living should stay alive)."
Even if the Descendants of Ahrag couldn't ask questions, shouldn't other black mages get their turn?
"A reasonable opinion. We agree as well."
The Obsidian Magic Tower immediately sided with them.
Truthfully, even if it wasn't reasonable, they would have stabbed them in the back anyway.
As long as they got to ask their questions, they didn't care whether the Descendants of Ahrag or the Legion of Oondorgu got screwed over.
But this chaotic infighting among the black mages backfired.
They were already furious that Senior Diret hadn't been invited, and instead of reflecting, they were just shifting blame!
To Lee Han, all these black mages looked like the same bunch of troublemakers.
"...Enough! You're all the same, aren't you?"
"Krruk (No?!)"
"It's true that the Descendants of Ahrag left you out. We can prove it."
The black mages panicked and tried to explain.
But Lee Han coldly pointed out:
"Out of all of you, was there even one person who, upon realizing the oversight, tried to send a belated invitation?"
"......"
Struck by the pointed question, the black mages fell silent.
That was... undeniable.
"I fail to see why I should extend any courtesy to those who disregard the Einrogard Black Magic School like this. I retract my earlier statement."
"Ah, no!"
"Krrruk (Reconsider)!"
The black mages screamed in protest, trying to persuade him, but Lee Han had already made up his mind.
He turned to the only trustworthy person in the room.
"Professor Taswan. If there's anything you'd like to ask the Crone, please let me know. I'll do my best to inquire on your behalf."
"...M-me?!"
Professor Taswan, who had been watching the senior mages bicker disgracefully, jumped in surprise at being called.
And then, belatedly clearing his throat, he tried to regain his dignity.
"...Thank you, Wardanaz student!"
"No!! Why that brat?!"
The Descendants of Ahrag howled as if they couldn't possibly accept this.
If everyone had been equally denied, they might have resigned themselves to it.
But for only that brat from Kallarogard to receive special treatment—
Just why?
'This is absolutely incomprehensible!'
The other black mages seemed to feel the same, glaring at Lee Han with burning eyes.
They were confident they could refute any reason—whether based on magic, experience, or reputation.
"Do you truly not understand the reason?"
"Yes! What on earth is the reason?!"
"Kallarogard is on friendly terms with Einrogard, isn't it?"
"......"
At this unexpected answer, the black mages all fell silent.
It was shamelessly straightforward, but it was also undeniably a convincing reason.
Well, if they're friends, what can you do...
The gathered black mages dispersed in futility.
Though they didn't leave the fortress due to their greed for the Crone, lingering in the reception hall any longer wouldn't achieve anything.
'Hmph. It's not even difficult to win over one little brat. I'll definitely persuade him and secure the right to ask questions.'
'Krrrk.'
'I should draft a negotiation proposal for the Einrogard Black Magic School and make contact.'
Of course, the black mages weren't just retreating without a plan.
Each of them was stepping back with the thought, 'The others might not manage, but I certainly can.'
"My apologies, Family Head."
Lee Han apologized for the unsightly squabble.
It made him wonder if the Empire's black magic schools had a generally poor reputation.
He wasn't all that familiar with other magic schools, but at the very least, he doubted they'd engage in such disgraceful arguments in a reception hall.
"What are you saying, Wardanaz? If the mage who resolved the North's problem says such things, the northern families would only feel ashamed."
Jidorf looked at Lee Han with eyes full of affection.
Who could have imagined that the boy from the Wardanaz family, invited for entirely different reasons, would end up solving this problem as well?
'I don't think I've ever seen that kind of look before...'
Giselle muttered inwardly.
Who would have thought her always composed and stern father could make such an expression?
It was almost confusing who was from the Wardanaz family and who was from the Moradi family.
"Regarding negotiations with the Crone, I'll inform you once they're concluded."
"If the black mages become a nuisance, let me know."
Before the matter was resolved, they had been honored guests—but now that it was settled, the black mages could be expelled at any time.
Knowing this, they had quietly withdrawn instead of whining in this hall.
Everyone knew that if they whined in the reception hall like last time, they'd be kicked out immediately.
"I appreciate your consideration."
"And if the knights become a nuisance, let me know as well."
Jidorf swiftly glanced at the White Tiger Tower students before returning his gaze to normal.
"......"
Giselle realized that the "knights" he mentioned weren't necessarily just the knights of the territory.
But the oblivious White Tiger Tower students, brimming with enthusiasm, shouted:
"We'll protect Wardanaz! Just leave it to us!"
"...Very well. Thank you, everyone. You must be tired from the journey, so rest well today."
The students bowed politely before filing out one by one.
As Giselle walked out last, the Chamberlain quietly followed behind.
"I have something to ask, Lady Giselle."
"Tell the White Tiger Tower students that I'll handle their management."
Giselle answered as if she had expected this.
The Chamberlain had clearly followed to relay her father's intentions.
Of course, he couldn't openly scold her in front of her friends.
"Not at all. The Family Head didn't ask about such things. Everyone knows you'll handle things well on your own—why would he need to ask?"
"Then what is it...?"
"The mage from the Alpha Family—what kind of magic did you cast on the horns? If it's alright, I'd like to inform the other attendants as well."
"...I'll ask Wardanaz about it later..."
Giselle, her tension deflated, answered weakly.
The Crone sent a giant toad messenger beyond dimensions.
While benevolent powerhouses across dimensions rarely maintained contact with Evil God Worshippers, neutral entities like The Crone were a different story.
What mattered was how interesting they were, whether good or evil.
Who could tell how much distorted time had passed between dimensions?
By some measures, less than a second; by others, decades—when the reply finally came.
What business could the wisest Crone possibly have?
It bore the handwriting of The Undead, one of the bishops of the Prahgal Cult.
The Crone cackled before writing her response with the tip of her ladle on the back of another giant toad.
This Primitive Magic had the power to communicate instantly, piercing through dimensional distortions and interference.
I came because I have a proposal to make.
Sorry, but I'm not in the mood for that.
'Hmm.'
Despite the cold and arrogant attitude, The Crone didn't get angry.
Of course, if some mere mortal had acted that way, she would've flared up instantly—either tossing them into her cauldron as fuel or throwing them inside outright.
But with Evil God Worshippers, it was different. They were all a bit unhinged, weren't they?
Getting mad at such creatures for being rude was pointless. The Crone could be magnanimous when she chose to be.
'Something must have happened.'
Evil God Worshippers, always at a disadvantage in the Material Plane, were usually receptive to proposals from beyond their dimension.
But this prickly attitude?
It had to be one of two things.
Either they'd recently achieved a great success—or suffered a great failure.
From the emotions in the handwriting, The Crone bet on the latter.
Yes, yes! Even this old granny heard about that failure. Shameful, isn't it? But what good is a grown creature just crying under a blanket?
Did you send a messenger just to vent your humiliation? Or to show off how fast rumors spread?
The Crone smirked again. Seeing how touchy they were, she must have hit the mark.
Of course, I sent help! Why else would this granny bother sending a toad to the likes of you? So stop crying and speak up. I'll help you get revenge.
Come to think of it, you handle bugs well too... Fine. Let's make a deal. If you answer my question, I'll pay the price. Would a hundred sacrifices do?
The price depends on the question. Or do you take this granny for a fool?
My apologies. It's just... such a shocking matter... Surely you know about the bugs of the Reborn One as well.
The Crone waited quietly.
The Reborn One—that is, Prahgal's bugs—were something The Crone, who also wielded the Authority of Bugs, knew well.
Though their powers differed in origin, there were overlaps and things to learn from each other.
Do you think an outsider could steal the Authority of those bugs?
'?!'
The Crone was startled.
That meant someone had stolen and used the Prahgal Cult's Authority!
'Is it time for those fanatics to fall?'
Though she'd lived across dimensions for ages, she'd never even heard of an outsider stealing a cult's Authority to use it.
Couldn't it have been replicated through magic?
Now who's taking whom for a fool?
This granny apologizes. Then again, you wouldn't fail to distinguish that.
There was a clear difference between replicating something through magic and stealing the Authority itself to wield it.
Anyone too stupid to tell the two apart would've been arrested and executed in the Material Plane long ago.
The Crone, who had come to make a proposal, now found herself deeply engrossed in an intriguing mystery.
Just who could have stolen the Authority—and how?
'How utterly fascinating!'