Chapter 33
Chapter 33
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 033
Chapter Title: The Trigger of All-Out War
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"... ."
"... ."
It was as if everyone had witnessed something beyond words, leaving them too stunned to speak.
But that silence didn't last. Soon, an elderly man raised his wrinkled hand, breaking the ice.
"Incredible mana reserves."
He spoke as if barely holding back his awe.
"So vast that the mana drain ability user hit their limit first. I've never seen anything like it in all my years."
Another elder asked,
"...Just how much mana do you think he has?"
"No idea. But I can say with certainty that even in this Sapientia, no one surpasses him."
"Amazing. How could a heretical mage possess that much power... ."
"And that's not all? It was triple-element magic! Triple elements!"
"Outside of the Sage, has anyone wielded that many elements in the last three hundred years?"
"...No."
"Honestly, even seeing it with my own eyes, I still can't believe it."
"And the mechanism of the spell activation?"
Someone spoke in a tone laced with utmost caution.
"To me, it looked like it bypassed every existing ritual process needed for spell manifestation... ."
"Same here."
"Me too."
"Maybe they added extra formulas to hide the process?"
"That was a combat situation. Fighting mercenaries, not a magic duel—why go through such an inefficient hassle?"
"Plus, the casting time was too short for any ritual modification. Physically impossible."
"Then what the hell was it?"
A hollow voice echoed through the darkness.
"Are you saying some back-alley heretic just implemented magic in a way that completely transcends centuries of this tower's magical framework?"
"... ."
"... ."
The six elders fell silent, each sealing their lips.
It was a question too heavy for the elders of a tower steeped in centuries of history.
Then, someone let out a soft groan.
"...The Mage of the Beginning."
Those words sent a ripple through the ambient mana, as if the space itself flinched.
"Is that what you're implying, Sage?"
All eyes turned to the central Sage.
But he merely stroked his beard with an impassive face.
"I haven't reached a conclusion yet. That's why I've gathered you elders—to seek your wisdom through my 'eyes'."
"The Mage of the Beginning... ."
"At this timing?"
"And a heretic mage, no less."
"Hah... ."
At that moment, someone spoke up.
"...I wouldn't rule it out entirely."
"Girion Leverque."
The elders' gazes shifted to the frailest mage present.
Seated in a wheelchair, hooked to multiple IV drips, he was none other than the eldest of the Leverque family and former head.
"His talent is one thing, brethren. But did you see that wind magic?"
"...It was peculiar."
"Seemed like Winter Shield calculating bullet trajectories on the fly, no?"
"No. It wasn't. Are you all truly clueless?"
He coughed lightly, his eyes sharpening.
"That wasn't mere magic—it moved with clear intent... like a living entity. And we know magic doesn't operate that way."
"...What are you getting at?"
"Some of you must have realized."
He continued,
"The ancient elves' secret arts."
"...!!"
Several elders swallowed hard.
"Certain lost tomes describe the ancient elves' forbidden magics, long vanished."
The secret art of summoning spirits called the Ancient Winds to wield their power.
In the era when the World Tree flourished, elves communed with spirits through its branches, borrowing their might.
"...But that lineage died out ages ago."
As elves fell to civilization and embraced mechanization, the World Tree withered away.
Naturally, the secret arts were lost too.
Excessive genetic tampering and addictive implant procedures left elves so broken they could neither reproduce nor sustain lifespans without tech.
A race that once drew life from nature had forsaken it with their own hands—and paid dearly.
"Do you know when that lineage last surfaced?"
"...Three hundred years ago."
"Exactly. And the only human known to befriend that final secret artist?"
In the silence, the Sage spoke.
"...The Mage of the Beginning."
"!!"
"Khm...!"
Amid the murmurs, someone pressed on.
"Casting times absurdly fast, spell activation defying all ritual norms, insane mana pool, multi-element control, and now clearly forgotten elven secret arts... ."
"Even for a heretic... ."
"...We can't dismiss the possibility."
"Hmm... ."
Several elders groaned again.
Another added,
"Even if not, Kyle Clark's talent is genuine."
Unlocking that potential and decoding his magic would bring the tower closer to the ultimate goal.
"The issue... is that he's in a penal unit."
The 8th Special District was an abyss of unknowns.
If Kyle died there, it was all for naught.
Yet the tower couldn't openly meddle in worldly affairs now.
The Luther family might exploit it.
"...Then I'll find ways to support him discreetly."
"Support?"
The Sage nodded at the question.
He had his granddaughter's connection to Kyle, and besides... .
"As long as it stays under the radar."
His eyes narrowed.
"I have several methods."
*
Before heading home after the elf skirmish.
"So, from now on, just block attacks aiming for my head like earlier."
I instructed it, but the Ancient Wind circled me uncertainly.
"Because I'm actually immortal—I don't die even if I should. But I don't want that getting out."
Something intangible tilted as if cocking its head.
"If my head gets blown off, I can't even claim super-regeneration, right? So just protect my head. But don't make it so I don't die at all—that'd be a problem too. I need to die sometimes."
The wind swirled in front of me.
'Does this thing even understand me?'
A bit skeptical, I asked,
"Can you hide your presence right now?"
The spirit vanished like real wind.
'Smart one.'
What kind of mystical wind was this?
Its unnatural movements earlier too.
I owed thanks to whoever from the insurance company's security team had killed me in such a clever way.
Back at my battered home, Lizzie McClaire emerged from the inner room, her face lighting up.
"Ah, Mr. Clark!"
"No trouble?"
"None, thanks to you."
She bowed deeply.
"Thank you. You saved me and the young miss."
She offered a blue gem.
"This is the magic artifact the young miss brought today. The light-attribute one is still being crafted, but please take this at least."
"...Is that okay?"
"She'd give it gladly. You're our lifesaver."
Who was I to refuse?
I pocketed the artifact gratefully and glanced at the unconscious Fleetwood.
"How's her condition?"
"...Stable, fortunately. As a noble lady, the intense pain must have been too shocking."
"Noble lady?"
"Oh, you didn't know?"
"...?"
Lizzie looked surprised.
"Miss Marie is the Sage's granddaughter."
"????"
The Sage?
"You mean... the Mage Tower Lord?"
"Yes."
"... ."
I stared in disbelief.
'A purebred lady after all.'
She did have that refined air.
"Anyway, thank you so much. If it's alright, could we meet with the young miss again sometime?"
"...Can't promise."
This mess made me doubt she'd go out soon.
"But I'll try. Just change the place and time."
I gave her the cyber columbarium coordinates and asked,
"Can you get her home like this?"
"Yes. Her mana has recovered some, and we can contact the tower."
I nodded and saw her off with more thanks.
Watching her carry Marie off with magic, I surveyed the half-destroyed house.
"...Was gonna dispose of it anyway."
Still felt oddly sentimental.
As I tidied debris,
"...?"
Magic's aftermath had torn the floor covering, revealing a hidden space beneath.
"What?"
Prying it up, I blinked.
"A box?"
Inside was a worn stainless steel box.
First time seeing it here.
Definitely not mine.
'Then... .'
Only one possible owner.
Suddenly, an eerie sensation gripped me.
Like Pandora's box before me, reason unknown.
I swallowed and opened the lid silently.
Gasping involuntarily.
"This is... ."
An ID card inside.
But not just one.
Dumping it out revealed over a dozen cards.
Heart sinking, I grabbed one.
[California New Alliance - Name: Lena Clark]
Matched my sister's face and name.
But the others shocked me.
I spread them on the floor.
[Utah Economic Union - Name: Judy Griffiths]
[Baltimore Empire - Name: Lily Hurlett]
[Hills Federation - Name: Hailey Gilman]
.
.
.
Different styles, but unmistakably my sister's face—with unknown names and origins.
"What... the hell...?"
'Resolved without Mage Tower knight aid?'
I furrowed my brow at the odd line.
I could only gape at the familiar message.
*
Back at Sapientia Mage Tower.
A frail voice stopped the Sage heading to his lab post-elder meeting.
"You're a cruel man."
"...Elder Girion."
Girion Leverque in his wheelchair followed.
"You used your own granddaughter as bait?"
"... ."
The Sage neither confirmed nor denied.
Girion smirked, liver spots twisting.
"Sage, leaking info to the mafia would've been trivial for you."
The hypothesis: Sage knew of his granddaughter's meeting with Kyle at the charity gala.
Leaked the spot to mafia, letting Marie get ambushed.
All to gauge Kyle Clark's true potential.
"For the ultimate goal, even your granddaughter's pain is acceptable?"
"...If truly dangerous, I'd have sent Sir Lewis. It was a lesson for Marie."
That no one from the tower sets foot lightly in the 8th District.
Girion chuckled.
"Of course. Wouldn't risk the last Fleetwood heir."
"... ."
To the silent Sage, Girion wheeled forward.
"Speaking of, she'd be about that age if she'd grown up unscathed."
"What do you mean?"
"Your grandson."
The Sage flinched.
"He resembles him greatly. Coincidence?"
The air grew heavy.
The Sage's eyes narrowed.
"...Poor taste in jokes, Elder. You know better."
"Yes, yes. He died. Clearly."
"Then why bring it up?"
"... ."
Girion eyed him probingly.
Then, with a genial smile, raised his hands.
"Sorry. I spoke rashly. Just regrettable. Without that tragedy, ties with Luther wouldn't have soured so."
"...Water under the bridge."
The Sage turned, brow furrowed in irritation.
"If that's all, I'll take my leave."
"...As you wish, Sage."
As he walked away, Girion's smile vanished.
"Fool."
Wheeling around, his demeanor shifted entirely from the meeting.
"The ultimate goal means nothing."
This was Girion's true face—pursuing it with other elders as facade.
His attendant bowed behind him.
"What now?"
"Mage of the Beginning? Irrelevant. Key is what bloodline influenced Kyle Clark."
Else, no explaining his mana and talent.
"Surely you don't think the Sage's grandchild survived?"
"Who knows."
Regardless, Kyle's evocative talent threatened too much.
Blossoming, he'd upend the power structure upon entering the tower.
'Marie Fleetwood lacks the temperament to lead.'
The tower was fated for Leverque hands.
Then Kyle appeared.
And Girion loathed variables.
"I tolerate not even a sliver of possibility."
The vague ultimate goal held no interest.
Only Leverque revival.
'The tower's future leader will be Leverque, not Fleetwood.'
No—must be.
"But Elder, killing him naturally won't be easy."
Kyle was no pushover.
Couldn't deploy Leverque mages openly.
Yet Girion was unconcerned.
"No need for our effort."
Kyle was already mafia enemy.
Post-failed hit, the boss needed new cards.
He'd merely broker.
Girion chuckled wickedly.
"Time to invoke our old pact."
"...The pact? You mean?"
"Yes."
Wheeling on, he sneered.
"The Great Bloodline."
"...!!"
No matter the talent, a mage dies once.
"Against a monster with hundreds of lives? Even he has no chance."
The elder's grin turned sinister.
*
Next day.
The 8th District's deep web buzzed with yesterday's incident.