Episode 1296
Episode 1296
'I can't tell if they didn't hear me or if they're pretending not to hear.'
Glancing at the Bracelet of Ten Thousand Demons, Lee Han thought to himself.
Even if he truly could recklessly awaken and summon demons at will, he wouldn't have used them as fuel for the Pentagrammaton.
While the Descendants of Ahrag were utterly heartless, Lee Han still had some compassion left.
"Anyway, I'll figure out how to complete the Pentagrammaton on my own."
"When? Tomorrow? The day after? Today?"
"...Would you like some more tea?"
Lee Han pretended not to hear and changed the subject. The elderly black mages grumbled while holding out their teacups.
Gainando, who had been munching on sugar cubes beside them, suddenly had an idea and spoke up.
"If you want Lee Han to master the Black Magic Small World technique, perhaps you could help him with something else?"
"What exactly are you suggesting? A demon dimension map? A demon registry? A severed arm of a demon duke? Dried demon blood?"
"...W-well, those are good too, but um... if you could help clean this magic tower..."
Gainando stuttered slightly, intimidated by the far more terrifying suggestions than he'd expected.
Seeing this, Lee Han and Diret exchanged looks of disbelief.
'Does he think these black mages are first-year freshmen or something?'
'There's no way they'd fall for such a childish trick...'
"Indeed. That makes perfect sense. What exactly needs cleaning?"
"......"
"......"
Both were at a loss for words.
This actually worked!?
The Descendants of Ahrag periodically criticized Professor Mortum's incompetence and laziness while beginning maintenance work on Black Rock Hall.
Originally, this task would have fallen to Diret (not Professor Mortum), with Lee Han joining out of pity for his senior, and Gainando being unfairly dragged along by his friend.
True to form, these elderly black mages possessed extraordinary skills. They instantly identified the tower's problems and proposed solutions.
"These shadow ivy vines have all withered. How have you been maintaining them? Bring me mortar and obsidian powder."
"Here you go."
"Why is there a gap in this floating staircase?"
"That part you're supposed to just jump across..."
Thwack!
"This is exactly why black mages get treated like beggars! You idiot! Bring me ghost teeth and regeneration magic supplies!"
After getting hit by a staff, Gainando hurried off to gather the reagents.
They repaired the magic circles where the lights had gone out, checked the condition of the sealed book repository, inspected the reagent aging room and storage...
The Descendants of Ahrag commented with mild surprise:
"It's not as poor as I expected? I thought everything would be empty, but there are some high-quality reagents here."
"The Einrogard Black Magic School is by no means impoverished."
Diret revealed a hint of quiet pride.
Thanks to a certain junior's recent accomplishments, the school's vault now always contained a modest amount of gold coins—a stark contrast to the past when not a speck of gold could be found.
"How did you obtain soul candles and abyss chain mirrors?"
One black mage discovered extremely rare reagents in a supply box and looked puzzled.
Items like these were normally purchased one by one at auctions and secretly hidden in personal collections, not placed in the magic tower's reagent drawers.
Why would other mages donate such precious items?
"That's... wait. Why is that there? I never bought anything that expensive?"
Diret was about to answer when he noticed something odd.
Even though the Black Magic School's income had increased dramatically, it was only by the Black Magic School's standards—within all of Einrogard, they still ranked near the bottom.
Accordingly, Diret had been extremely thorough in controlling and economizing the Black Magic Tower's reagent purchases. There was no room for waste.
Whoosh!
Diret's head snapped around to face his junior. Lee Han didn't change his expression at all as he spoke.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Senior?"
"......"
"Is something the matter?"
"There are expensive reagents stocked here. Any idea how that happened?"
"Couldn't Professor Mortum have restocked them?"
Lee Han was shameless enough, but unfortunately, the Descendants of Ahrag were standing right there.
The black mages exploded in outrage.
"Absolutely impossible! That makes no sense at all!"
"If that bastard Mortum stocked reagents here instead of keeping them in his own pouch, I'll change my affiliation to the Legion of Oondorgu!"
'Hmm.'
Lee Han pondered whether to argue with 'Professor Mortum could've done it' or 'Maybe it's like that fairy tale where a monster helps the black mage.'
The latter seemed more convincing.
But before he could decide, Diret had already removed the reagents and placed them in a separate pouch. He then wrote Lee Han's name on it, followed by 'Do not touch - others.'
After a moment's hesitation, he added below that, 'Touch it and you die for real.' The nearby black mages offered their advice.
"Go all out and curse it too. Some people only learn after getting burned once."
"...Our department understands words. Probably. And junior, you don't need to restock the reagents here with your own from now on."
Diret whispered this just for Lee Han's ears. If the Descendants of Ahrag heard, there was a 100% chance they'd pester him with 'Why would you do such a thing?'
"I don't know what you're talking about, Senior."
"Yeah. I knew you'd say that."
Not expecting his junior to admit anything, Diret just patted him on the back and returned to his seat.
The black mages were still diligently maintaining the tower.
Watching them, Diret felt slightly worried.
'They won't cause a scene when they find out they've been tricked, right?'
"Excuse me, can I ask one thing? Do you genuinely believe that cleaning the tower like this will make the junior immediately learn Black Magic's Small World...?"
"No?"
"?!"
Diret was startled by the unexpected answer.
No?
The elderly black mages swung their staffs, repairing broken and shattered undead, as they spoke.
"No matter how much work there is, doing this in their place won't make them instantly master the Small World."
"Th-then why?"
"Are you seriously asking, Diret? I never thought a black mage would ask such a naive question. Given Wardanaz's personality, if he pretends to be fooled and helps with the work, he'll unconsciously feel a sense of responsibility. If we lay the groundwork like this step by step, it'll help when competing against the Obsidian Magic Tower or the Legion of Oondorgu in the future."
"...Get out!"
"Even if you chase us out, Wardanaz already has a certain amount of responsibility weighing on his mind because of the work we've done. Too late now. Hahahaha!"
Watching the Descendants of Ahrag cheerfully scamper off elsewhere, Diret covered his face with his palm in exasperation.
Feeling oddly guilty, Lee Han spoke up.
"Don't worry, Senior. I don't feel any responsibility at all from things like this."
"......"
Diret stared intently at his junior.
Somehow, he doubted that...
Ahrag's Third Descendant hummed a tune as he descended into the basement.
Without persistence and patience, one could never practice Black Magic. Seeing the big picture and advancing step by step was the essence of a black mage.
Thud thud thud thud thud!
"????"
The black mage organizing the basement momentarily wondered if the shaking wooden chest was a mimic.
But it wasn't. From the wooden chest, he sensed the familiar magical pattern of Black Magic.
"The Ninth!? Is that you, Ninth?!"
-!!!
The Ninth, who had transformed into a wooden chest and was tightly bound with chains, couldn't speak but frantically shook his body to affirm that it was indeed him.
The Third Descendant, utterly baffled by the situation, asked:
"Why are you like this here? Wait, you can't answer anyway. I'll figure it out myself. Hmm... Aha. Got it. Did you transform into a chest to infiltrate Einrogard but got caught and sealed like this instead?"
-!!!!
The chest shook even more violently. Being from the same magic tower, they could understand each other's intentions even without words.
Truth be told, the Descendants of Ahrag hadn't been on particularly good terms when they were still in the magic tower.
They were all stubborn black mages with clear personal ambitions, to the point where even casual conversations often led to arguments.
But seeing how they could communicate without words now made them realize just how strong their bond as fellow tower members truly was.
The Ninth deeply regretted his past behavior of acting arrogantly and disdainfully toward his comrades. In times of danger, comrades were indeed the only ones you could rely on.
'Wait a minute?'
The Third Descendant paused.
Originally, they had sent the Ninth to persuade Wardanaz to eventually bring him to their magic tower.
But now that he thought about it...
'Do we really need the Ninth anymore?'
They had already secured permission to visit Einrogard, built a fairly close personal relationship with Wardanaz, and instilled a sense of responsibility and guilt in him...
...And strictly speaking, the Ninth hadn't even been sent by them in the first place. He had gone off on his own despite their attempts to stop him.
Recalling past events made him question whether releasing the Ninth now was the right move.
Honestly, life in the tower had been much more peaceful with the Ninth gone—fewer fights, more comfort.
"Hmm. Seems my guess was wrong."
-????
The chest shook violently as if asking what nonsense he was spouting.
'You senile, stupid, dull-witted skeleton! Free me right now! What are you even saying?!'
"Then shall I guess again? What? You're not caught but infiltrating? And you want me to stop talking because I might blow your cover? Got it! I'll do just that."
-!!!!!!
The chest shook like mad. If not for the chains, it looked ready to fly straight into the back of this old black mage's skull.
Regardless, the Third turned around and headed back upstairs. He figured he could come back to retrieve him in a few years.
Or maybe leave him there a little longer...
BANG BANG BANG—
Left alone in the basement, the chest seethed with fury.
Betrayal from a fellow tower member always hurt several times more.
'I swear upon my dark magic! Whoever frees me shall receive all my black magic teachings! Those ungrateful wretches aren't even true descendants!'
"Senior, what's in the basement?"
"Nothing, why?"
"It's just... the Descendants have been whispering ever since they went down there."
"Probably just surprised by all the items and reagents stored there. Makes sense."
Diret forced a bitter smile as he replied.
'That doesn't seem to be the case...'
Lee Han found it odd but simply nodded in agreement. It wasn't that important anyway.
"Orlach, about the basement—"
Just as Lee Han was about to summon the demon to ask, a paper bird flying in through the window startled him.
An ordinary paper bird wouldn't have been surprising, but judging by its distinct pattern and color, that was...
'Princess Yukveltire's paper bird!'
"Why does she keep sending letters?"
Diret wearily caught the paper bird.
If she had time to squeeze in a trip to the capital, she should just handle her business there. He couldn't understand why she kept sending letters.
Lee Han subtly tried to back away. Unfortunately, the stairs were too far. There was no way to slip away unnoticed.
Diret, who had started reading the letter, suddenly whipped his head around to stare at his junior.
Then he read the letter again, stared at Lee Han, read the letter once more, and stared at Lee Han again.
"Junior... Did you, by any chance... in the capital—"
"Please grant me the chance to explain."