Impure Aura?
"Impure aura?"
To a dragon like Tud, just how impure would an aura have to be for it not to count as impure? Startled by that displeased glare, Vulcan quickly averted his gaze as well.
"The Mage Tower? Ah, yeah, that makes sense. They're all specialized in specific attributes, after all..."
And at the end of that gaze stood the towering Mage Tower. True to its name, a wizard's tower. Inside that massive chimney-like structure gathered wizards of various schools, but it wasn't as if they researched a broad range of magic types.
Mage Towers mostly focused on mastering and studying one or two attributes that played to their unique strengths. Trying to learn every kind of magic with a human body could leave you half-assed at everything, and even these so-called chosen ones called wizards didn't all have high affinity for every elemental school.
That was why wizards typically entrusted themselves to a Mage Tower aligned with their affinities to maximize their potential and grow as mages.
Attribute specialization? I see. What a bunch of idiots.
It clicked. Tud turned his head away, still wearing an expression of clear distaste at the incomplete, lopsided auras.
"Yeah... pretty much. And because of that, they don't get along with each other. Not entirely the reason, but still."
With each tower's colors so distinctly pronounced, relations between them were far from amicable. Sure, some exchanged knowledge, but most viewed each other with suspicion and exclusion.
It had become an unspoken rule that once one Mage Tower was established in a city, no others would move in—you could gauge just how bad the bad blood was from that.
Yet despite it all, the reason every Mage Tower had gathered here was simple: Alter was the master of each tower's lord, the Mage Tower Masters.
Alter's position atop all of them, without even needing to establish his own tower or build a faction, forced even the most arrogant and skilled to swallow their pride and bow their heads.
Alter's got a temper that wouldn't yield to anyone, after all.
The towers kept powerful wizards here—not their main branches, but elite ones—to maintain ties with him and perhaps beg for a scrap of his wisdom. Who knew? One might catch his eye and become a disciple.
If that happened, their tower's power would skyrocket past the others in an instant. That hope kept them gathering promising talents here.
"Halt. State your business."
"I've come to see Lord Alter."
"...Lord Alter? Do you have an appointment?"
That made Hainel a very special case. None of Alter's disciples lacked immense power. Given Hainel's level and abilities, it was tempting to suspect he was lying.
But Vulcan trusted him. There was no hint of deceit in his words, no reason to fabricate a story. So he boldly stated his purpose to the guard blocking the lord's castle entrance.
"No appointment, but if you tell him I have a letter from Lord Hainel, he'll see me."
"Lord... Hainel?"
"...?"
Something felt off. The moment the guard heard Hainel's name, his eyes changed.
This guy didn't run off after causing trouble, did he?
It wasn't mere surprise or skepticism. The guard was on high alert, rolling his eyes and scratching his head without barking about an unknown name or offering to relay the message.
"...Hand it over. I'll deliver it to Lord Alter myself."
But the hesitation was brief. The guard extended his hand casually, demanding Hainel's letter to pass on himself.
"You fucking nuts?"
"...Pardon? What the—"
In that instant, an ugly curse slipped from Vulcan's mouth. He'd pieced it together, just as the guard had.
What the hell's this bullshit?
A mere inner castle guard, a gatekeeper no less, daring to offer to receive and deliver a letter meant for Alter? It was presumptuous and made no sense.
Vulcan was certain now: this bastard was trying to pull something.
Hand over the letter, and it'd never reach Alter—he'd get kicked out, with word that Alter refused to meet him.
They say Alter's disciples don't get along. Did they plant lackeys here too?
"Watch your tongue! Do you know where you are? This is the domain of—"
"I said call him, you prick! You think you know who I am before flapping your gums? I'm a noble of this kingdom! Your master's just Count Alter—how dare a worm like you play noble? You think trash like you belongs at a noble's event?!"
The guard bristled at Vulcan's irritated tone, eyeing him up and down to assert dominance, but he was too slow. Vulcan, mere honorary baron or not, threw his noble status in his face with thunderous fury.
"Ah, n-no, that's not... My apologies. I'll inform him right away."
No skill involved, but the high-level guard cowered anyway. Insulting a noble was a grave crime. Alter might smooth it over since it was his subordinate, but in other circumstances, it could mean summary execution.
So he glanced nervously, handed gate duty to another, and hurried inside. He returned soon after with a strange expression.
"My apologies. I relayed it to the Count, but he refuses an audience. He doesn't want to hear from his runaway disciple..."
"Runaway...?"
Unlike his earlier fear, the guard now spoke with leisure, leaving Vulcan a bit flustered this time.
He'd heard from Hainel that he was Alter's disciple, but not that he'd fled.
"Yes. Lord Hainel rejected the Count's teachings and fled in the night. The Count was furious. Seems he's still angry."
"..."
Vulcan fell silent, trying to detect a lie, but it was hard to tell. He couldn't confirm if Alter truly refused, but Hainel having run away seemed legit.
Why the hell would he do something that stupid...?
Alter of all people. Learn even a sliver from him, and his disciple title alone would open doors anywhere. Yet he'd thrown it away and bolted? Hard to believe.
"So he said no?"
"Yes. Once he decides something, he doesn't easily go back on it."
Vulcan tested the waters, but the guard's reply was firm. Given Alter's temperament, it tracked, leaving Vulcan to ponder.
"Sorry, nothing I can do."
This was tricky. Legendary Volcano title, solid reputation, honorary baron status—maybe he could push, but against Alter's position, they meant squat.
Force it and risk offending him? That could mean irreparable political damage. No faction opposing Alter would touch him.
"Um, if I may overstep—since I erred against you, Baron, may I offer a word?"
"Speak."
"If you want to persuade him or at least talk, best go through his favorite disciple. Lord Mokri's staying at the city's Mage Tower right now. Explain your situation, and he might arrange a meeting."
That sly "advice." Hearing it cleared Vulcan's muddled head. He got the picture.
Favorite my ass.
Alter favored none of his disciples specially. He taught them for magic's advancement, potential, and to preserve his legacy—not because he liked them.
Even now, as tower lords dubbed pinnacle mages of their schools, they fell short of his standards.
Mokri, that smarmy bastard always grinning like a creep...
Recommend Mokri as the favorite and send him there? The intent reeked.
The guard might think it clever bait, and a normal person with no options might bite. But not Vulcan.
Flowers blooming means he's here, alright.
He'd clocked it: Mokri, master of the jungle, lord of the vine-choked Tower of Life.
That tower was always draped in ivy-like vines. Flowers bloomed only for special events or Mokri's visits—and he'd seen them on the Tower of Life en route.
So Mokri was here, no lie there. But Vulcan had no intention of falling for the ploy.
"Got it. I'll keep that in mind."
He gave a curt reply and abandoned the front gate. But not meeting Alter directly—no, he'd reached the lord's castle doorstep already.
He's inside, that's for sure.
What's the plan?
Meet him. Alter himself. Even if I see Mokri, he won't let me meet Alter direct or might snoop the letter first.
Climbing the wall? That could cause issues.
"Hey? Where you going? That's—"
The talk of appointments and relaying requests meant Alter was here. So if he could just meet him, he could verify the story.
Should be fine. Yeah, climbing—but not me personally.
...?
Vulcan turned from the gate but didn't head to the Tower of Life like the ploy suggested. He scanned for a spot, opened his inventory, and activated a skill.
1-Pyeong Tower Construction
Oh ho?
"Wha—what?!"
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gu-gung—
A 1-pyeong tower erupted from beneath his feet, rising straight up. The guards panicked at the sight but floundered, unsure what to do.
Daring to use power in Count Alter's domain warranted harsh punishment even for nobles—but only if aggressive or threatening.
This was just a narrow spire at his feet. Unless it collapsed on the castle, merely rising left them unsure: demolish it? Attack Vulcan atop it?
"Ah, mic test."
Meanwhile, Vulcan pulled another item from his sub-space: a magic amplifier, dubbed a megaphone despite just boosting voice—complete with a mana stone embedded.
A bonus from sweeping quests in Smell. Designed for area buffs via sound skills, but lacking those and to avoid backlash later, he just bellowed at full volume.
"Lord Alter!! This is Honorary Baron Vulcan! I have urgent business—please grant me an audience!!!"
"!!"
His voice boomed across the entire lord's castle, directed solely inward.