Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 027
Chapter Title: Rockton Councilor
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The next day.
The broker network on the deep web of the 8th Special District was abuzz with the incident that had unfolded in Sector 5.
The chat had gone quiet for a moment, but then everyone started firing off questions.
The network fell silent again, and then a chat message rose up like a confirmation kill shot.
Young broker George Brocket pulled his eyes away from the monitor and silently stirred his coffee with a spoon.
"No matter where you go, everyone's talking about the Sector 5 incident from yesterday."
Mickey, the freckled woman perched at the bar stand, slurped her latte and chimed in.
"Well, yeah. A lightning bolt exploding right over your head out of nowhere? Not turning heads would be weirder."
"So, how'd the job I commissioned go?"
Mickey grinned and slapped some photos down on the table.
"Confirmed. This guy's the Mafia Butcher."
The photos were drone shots of the Al Kimia Alliance hideout with its ceiling blown open. Zoomed in and enhanced, they captured a single man standing alone.
"Bribed the cops and dug everywhere. Turns out this same guy caught the Witch of Delusion, that psycho bitch. Rumor has it a key Moonlit Path exec's locked up because of him too. Guy's a monster all around."
"Good work."
"No problem."
George handed her the payment and let out a small groan as he eyed the photos.
"At this rate, most of the recent hits were pulled off by the Mafia Butcher."
No idea how he charmed them, but the cops had successfully recruited a powerhouse.
"So, what's the vibe like since yesterday?"
George shrugged at her question.
"Dunno."
As far as his ears could hear, reactions from those scraping by in the 8th Special District varied wildly.
Some were intrigued, others betting on the outcome, a few scoffing it off.
Those dwelling in the abyss of this demon den might not care at all.
But one thing was clear: some felt threatened by yesterday's event.
"Not just the mafia and Al Kimia Alliance. There are factions on edge about the cops' recent moves—and their cooperative Mafia Butcher."
Mickey snorted.
"Feels like the calm before the storm."
"More like... yeah."
George caressed his coffee cup.
"War drums... that's the word."
The pinnacle of the Magic Tower.
An elderly man stood before the vast window, gazing at the tower, the village below, and the lush forest encircling them. He stroked his snow-white beard.
A short old man, silently sipping his drink nearby, spoke up.
"Sage. Heard about what went down in the 8th Special District yesterday?"
"8th Special District?"
The one called Sage turned around in surprise.
"Interesting. Leverk. Never thought you'd care about worldly affairs."
"I don't, normally... but the young ones are making a huge fuss."
Incidents in the 8th Special District rarely leaked outside.
As Dun City's dark secret, the city hall had deliberately suppressed related news.
But Sector 5 was relatively close to the tower, and with some tower mages briefly away in the upper district on business lately, rumors had trickled in.
With a snort, he swirled his whiskey glass clinking with ice and spoke.
"Shoddy footage, so not 100% sure... but to me, that was a Thunderbolt."
"It was."
"Though the power and scale were on another level from what we know."
Leverk narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Probably poured endless mana in, compressed it to the spell's breaking point."
Thunderbolt was strictly an anti-personnel spell originally.
Not the kind that exploded from the sky, scattering bolts everywhere.
He let out a dry chuckle.
"Impressive mana reserves. Even for a heretic mage, gotta admit it."
"How much you figure?"
"Mana-wise?"
Leverk pondered before answering.
"At least... on par with our family's heir, I'd say."
"Ho. Leverk's heir, huh? That's high praise."
"Magic's all about measurement and calculation. Denying the inference is pointless."
Gazing at the Sage's back, he added,
"Speaking of, you're the odd one here. Weren't you even less interested in the world than me? Yet you knew about this."
"...Heard something that piqued my interest."
"Piqued your interest?"
The Sage nodded.
"Seems my tomboy granddaughter snuck off to the 8th Special District again, ignoring me."
"For that crafting errand?"
"Yeah. But she ran into some heretic mage there... She said she couldn't make heads or tails of his spell structure."
"What?"
Leverk's face hardened.
"Marie Fleetwood, that girl?"
It was hard to believe.
"My granddaughter's a troublemaker, but she doesn't lie."
And ironically, that mage was a lightning specialist.
Just like the one in Sector 5 yesterday.
"Wanna know what she told me next?"
Turning to Leverk, the Sage said,
"The successor of the Origin Mage."
"...!"
Leverk looked stunned.
"You serious?"
It was from the oldest tome in this tower, Sapientia.
A legend: when crisis and stagnation hit this tower of aspiration, the Origin Mage... his successor would return, ushering innovation.
Leverk chuckled dryly.
"...Young, pure mages always love those romantic tales."
"Likely a misunderstanding. But worth investigating that talent, for sure."
"That's all?"
"What do you mean?"
Leverk's eyes narrowed at the Sage's question.
"Talking about your grandson."
"......"
The air grew heavy as Leverk continued.
"You thinking maybe? That level of talent means top-tier bloodline."
The strong correlation between magic talent and noble bloodlines was proven fact.
Combined with Marie's account and the mana display in Sector 5.
Could it all happen without bloodline...?
"...Am I wrong?"
No answer came, so Leverk sighed.
"Sage. That boy is dead. When will you let go?"
Eyes closed, the Sage replied reluctantly.
"...I know."
He knew.
The boy was definitely dead.
Pure possibility-wise, the Origin Mage successor seemed more likely.
'Leverk dismisses it as legend, but...'
The Sage and a few elders knew.
It wasn't just a legend.
'The Origin Mage...'
With border tensions worsening and the Luther Family pressuring to send tower mages to the frontlines.
'...Could call it a crisis for this tower.'
The Sage swallowed a secret sigh.
"...What the hell have you been up to?"
Walter, back from the infirmary, shoved a gossip rag in my face.
An underground tabloid circulating only in the 8th Special District.
It featured a bizarre headline and what looked like a photo from the scene.
"Uh..."
I could only blink at the question.
Okay, the Spear of Lightning making the news? Fine. But how'd they peg me as the shooter?
'Some plant leaking info?'
Honestly, seemed likely.
"This you?"
"...Kinda happened that way?"
"Holy..."
He stared at the rag in disbelief, then suddenly thwack! grabbed my hands with both of his.
"??"
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"Need anything?"
"...??"
"I'm kinda the go-to guy in this unit, y'know? Say the word. Can get you anything except a phone or computer."
His sudden kindness made me squint and pull away.
"You eat something bad, old man?"
"Picked up some wisdom in the infirmary."
"Like what?"
Walter's face turned deadly serious.
"Stick to you like glue! That's how you survive longer in this shithole."
"Uh..."
I recalled the squadmates I'd shared with so far.
"Doesn't feel like it."
Usually, only one or two survived without me.
"No! You being there is why even one or two made it out!"
...That how it works?
Walter pleaded with desperate eyes.
"If squads mix, can you ask Joseph to take me along?"
"Outta nowhere like that..."
"Please, I beg you!"
"......"
Looked like the firestorm near-death had rattled him a bit.
'Poor guy.'
I patted the back of the clinging Walter sympathetically.
'141 ain't a sane outfit for long stays anyway.'
Patting him down vaguely, I glanced at the annoyingly clear weather.
'No calls today?'
Stuck in the gulag for days was getting boring.
Right then, the intercom blared.
"!!"
Hearing it, I shot up, sending Walter tumbling back with a choke.
"Be right back, heading upstairs."
"You won't ditch me, right? Right?"
"Yeah, yeah."
"I'm counting on you!"
Leaving Walter's nonsense behind, I used my personal keycard to unlock the 3rd floor security door.
'Anyway, about time to pick a skill.'
I had one regular point and two enhancement points—three total.
'Thanks to some packed days.'
From the Al Kimia raid and highjack, I'd unlocked three new skills besides the [Lightning Stake] I'd checked last time.
First: [Flame Shield], next step after [Flame Ring].
'Not bad scaling with mana, but...'
Didn't seem essential for an immortal like me.
'Next was a new curse spell.'
Unlocking [Belial's Withering Minor Curse]—which drops foe stats via insight boost—opened the next curse.
'Fear, huh...'
Could be handy situationally.
'Eh, hold off for now.'
Curse users turned out easier to find than expected.
Last: new skill tree from this haul, 'Venator's Blood Sword Style'.
Like Wereking Fist, the tree looked suspiciously short.
I checked the first skill at the bottom.
The kicker: 'bonus damage to Great Bloodlines'.
'Great Bloodlines—vampire nobility, right?'
Vampires ranked from lowly spawn to Great Bloodlines.
Strict hierarchies within.
'Weird.'
A skill from a vampire... that bonuses against vampires.
'...No clue why.'
Didn't need it urgently anyway.
Hadn't mastered Wereking Fist yet.
No Great Bloodline encounters foreseen, no need to rush.
'Oh, right—Wereking Fist.'
I pulled up its second skill.
'Haven't faced anything as fast as that bearwolf yet.'
But who knew ahead.
Wolf-like foes with superior physiques might dodge even [Internal Force Fist].
Skills need speed to land.
[Death Forging] and Baal's curse had boosted my stats plenty, true.
But the 8th Special District crawled with bigger monsters.
'Better master Wereking Fist quick...'
Decision made to invest in [Wereking Step]—that's when.
"43471?"
"...?"
A voice called; I turned to see tall officer, Lieutenant Roden, standing there.
"Lieutenant."
"Here for the team leader?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on in."
He knocked on the office door ahead of me.
"Very important guest inside."
"...?"
[Ah, come in.]
Joseph's voice prompted him to open up, revealing the usual office setup.
But in the head seat sat an unfamiliar old man.
Reeking of class, I blinked as Roden spoke.
"Councilor Rockton. 43471 reporting."
'Councilor?'
I glanced at the lieutenant involuntarily.
'City councilor?'
"Ah, yes. There you are."
The one called Councilor Rockton set down his coffee with a smile.
"Nice to meet you, Kyle Clark, was it?"
He gestured to the sofa opposite.
"Come, have a seat."
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