Crossroads of Life and Death
News of the critical condition of Carven Theodore, Master of the Magic Tower, reverberated across the entire Empire.
Every mage in the realm—indeed, throughout the known world—bowed to the authority of the Magic Tower, and at its pinnacle stood the Tower Master. Upon hearing the grim tidings, both the scholars within the tower and unaffiliated mages abroad were thrown into disarray. His collapse was entirely unexpected.
If the Tower Master fell now, Peria, the designated successor, was still far too young, having yet to achieve the milestones befitting the sovereign of the Magic Tower. In all likelihood, the institution would be forced into a regency council of elders until she was ready to assume full command. The question haunting them all was whether such a council could ever fill the immense void left in his absence.
Carven Theodore was a titan among mages. The countless spells he had unearthed and pioneered were more than enough to revive the forgotten glories of magic's golden age, and his profound wisdom had long served as a beacon for all seekers of the arcane. Naturally, when a colossus of such stature fell, the shockwaves shook the earth beneath him.
And it could not have happened at a worse time: the Empire was locked in war with the Demon King.
In truth, the Empire had grievously underestimated the demon forces. Time and again throughout history, Demon Kings had been struck down by the Hero; moreover, the Empire had once vanquished a Demon King entirely on its own strength. Blinded by those past triumphs, they failed to perceive the grim reality lurking behind them.
First, striking down a Demon King had never once been an easy feat. Dusty chronicles held little emotional weight for modern men, and with only the final victories remembered, people placed blind faith in their superiority and treated the threat lightly.
Second, though humanity had prevailed each time, had they suffered even a single defeat, their entire race might have been wiped out. Mankind never realized they were treading the razor's edge of annihilation—or rather, they realized it far too late.
And third, the fact that past Demon Kings had been defeated offered no guarantee that this generation's ruler would be the same.
Mired in complacency, humanity held back their full strength instead of committing everything to the fight. That arrogance shattered the instant Grandis marched her legion across the border, obliterating a key imperial fortress in a single day. Only after their complacency was violently stripped away did they finally face reality: the enemy was far more strategic, powerful, and numerous than they had ever imagined.
Now, amidst such dire peril, the spiritual pillar of all mages was on the verge of death, while the one meant to succeed him was still far too young. Chaos engulfed the mages beyond the tower walls, but within the Magic Tower itself, the atmosphere was grimmer still.
Peria stood over the bed, her face crumpled in sorrow.
"Gramps... what happened? You said you wouldn't... You promised you wouldn't push yourself..."
"...I am sorry."
Grasping the frail, gaunt hand of the old man who had withered away in mere days, Peria choked back a sob.
"How did this happen...? I told you not to overexert yourself! Why? Why did you do this...?"
"...It was something that had to be done."
"Because of that research?"
"...Yes, because of the research. But... it is regrettable that I must depart before seeing it through to the end."
"What could possibly be so important about that damn research...?"
"...My time in this world is at an end. Before I go, there is something I must give you."
"..."
Peria said nothing, merely staring at the old man through her tears. Reaching into his robes, Carven drew out a small pouch.
"Open it."
Peria untied the strings and tipped out the contents. Resting in her palm was a gold ring engraved with the insignia of a phoenix.
"...A keepsake from your parents."
"...A keepsake? You told me you found me abandoned in the gutter."
"I lied. ...Your parents—or more accurately, your mother—entrusted you to me."
"My mother?"
"Ask no more than that. Go on, try it on."
Carefully, Peria slipped the ring onto her finger.
"Yes. It suits you well."
"...Gramps."
"My work in this life is nearly finished. It weighs on my mind that I leave unfinished business behind... but some things cannot be helped."
"Gramps!"
"I'm not deaf, girl. I still have a little time left before I breathe my last, so don't fret. Now, run along for today."
"How could I leave you like this...?"
"The dying will die, but the living must go on living. Enough of this nonsense. Go eat something, get some rest, and come back. You look like a ghost."
Peria left the room, her lips trembling and bitten raw. Even as she stepped out into the hallway, her fingers restlessly turned the ring on her hand. It was then that an unwelcome visitor approached.
"Peria, are you on your way back from seeing Master?"
"Ah, yeah."
"And what's that ring?"
"Gramps gave it to me. Said it was a keepsake from my parents."
"Huh? Weren't you an orphan he picked up off the street?"
A vein throbbed on Peria's forehead.
"...I thought so too. I don't really know."
"Oh, really? Can I take a look?"
"...Sure."
Since she knew next to nothing about it herself, Peria casually extended her hand.
"Let's see..."
May examined the ring, and her entire posture froze.
"...What is it? Do you recognize it?"
At Peria's prompt, May forced a strained smile.
"Ah, it's nothing."
"How boring."
Peria snorted softly and turned away. Behind her, May stood with her head bowed, her eyes darting erratically.
The sky was dazzlingly blue. It was beneath such radiant heavens that Carven Theodore, Master of the Magic Tower, was laid to rest.
"...Damn it all."
Having had no children of his own, Peria served as chief mourner. Watching the grandeur of the most lavish funeral imaginable, her thoughts lingered on the man being honored—the guardian she would never see again.
"...May his soul find eternal rest."
As a fellow companion of the Hero, Beatrice attended the funeral to pay her respects. The others were present as well: Sayne, Einzel, and even Lena, who normally held utter contempt for human customs.
Peria bit her lip hard and clenched her fists.
Don't cry. Don't you dare cry. Hold it in.
If she broke down here, there would be no turning back. And so, until the service finally drew to a close, she maintained an outward mask of composed stoicism.
Once the funeral concluded, she began sorting through the late Tower Master's belongings.
"This goes here, that goes over there..."
As she organized his possessions one by one, she stumbled upon a particular item: a roll of parchment covered in countless magical formulas, the ink seemingly penned only days ago and stained with flecks of dried blood.
She knew instantly. This was the very research for which he had burned away the last embers of his life.
What in the world was so vital that you sacrificed yourself for it?
She leaned in to examine the parchment, but a surge of grief caught in her throat. What kind of magic could possibly justify such a sacrifice? What was this nonsense that it compelled him to leave her behind?
Roughly, she rolled the parchment back up.
"...What's that?"
It was Einzel. Her voice came out harsh and ragged.
"The damn thing the old man was researching right up until he croaked."
"Ah... I see."
His expression tightened, hesitating as he realized he had touched a raw nerve.
"Forget it. Nothing you say will bring the dead back anyway. I just... can't stand the sight of it."
She made to hurl the scroll away, but Einzel caught her wrist.
"It's just... if it's something the Tower Master poured his final moments into, I couldn't help being curious."
"Fine, whatever."
Peria surrendered the scroll without a fuss, glad simply to have the detestable thing out of her sight.
"Then I'll put this over here... and hup, does that do it?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the help."
Lacking the energy even to snap back at him, Peria offered her gratitude in a subdued tone.
With the scroll tucked securely inside his coat, Einzel walked through the city streets. Seeing Peria, who had always seemed invincible, show such vulnerability left him with an unsettled feeling.
Not that he was in any position to worry about others. He was desperate to grow stronger, yet the harder he trained, the more acutely he felt the dizzying chasm separating him from the foes he had to defeat.
With a restless mind, he wandered the capital. The dazzling glow of the city lights washed out the starlight above. It was a strange, precarious time—a period of profound struggle for the world, for his comrades, and for himself. A heavy sigh escaped him, oppressed by the suffocating sense of traversing an endless, pitch-black tunnel.
How long had he been walking? Ahead of him, he spotted Peria.
Having just lost the person dearest to her, her turmoil had to run deeper than anyone's. He watched her quietly from a distance.
Then, without warning, a group of knights appeared and began escorting her away. They were clad in resplendent ceremonial armor—attire that very few in the realm were permitted to wear.
"What the...?"
Einzel tailed them. Though Peria shouted in anger and protested, she ultimately complied and went with them. That meant these people occupied a station so exalted she could not openly defy them.
As they boarded a carriage, Einzel's face darkened. Renting a horse, he spurred the beast on and pursued them through the streets.
Galloping at full speed, he barely managed to keep pace, but unease settled in his gut when he recognized their destination.
It was the Imperial Palace.
"What is this..."
At that very moment, darkness swallowed his vision.
And when he opened his eyes once more, iron bars met his gaze.