Magic Tower Master Kaion
As soon as morning broke, he headed straight for the Magic Tower. He already had a plan for how to persuade the tower master.
Reaching the 8th Circle wasn't the first on the continent. There were records of 8th Circle mages appearing in the Mage Empire. But after that empire's fall, no great archmage comparable to a Grand Master had emerged. For thousands of years, the biggest reason was the lack of practical magic tomes.
From the tower master's perspective, 7th Circle spells could serve as signposts to the 8th Circle. That should be leverage enough to convince him.
The Magic Tower was built just like in novels and webtoons—a pyramid soaring dozens of stories high. It was already bustling with people, mostly because the first ten floors doubled as magic shops.
The moment he appeared, the crowd recognized him.
"It's Marquis Aron!"
The murmurs rippled through the hall. His reputation for meting out harsh justice in the eastern provinces had spread far, but it hadn't reached the capital yet. Of course, people knew the tales of divine blessings and being called a holy sovereign, yet they instinctively shied away. To them, he was the vicious criminal who could tear a man apart with a glance.
Like Moses' miracle, the crowd parted left and right. This notoriety has its perks, he thought. Without it, he'd be stuck waiting in line for ages. He reached the reception desk in no time.
The first floor sold mainly 1st and 2nd Circle scrolls, magic items, potions, and such. Mercenaries thronged the place, and even among them, his infamy loomed large. His heightened senses picked up their whispers despite his efforts to ignore them.
"Watch yourself. A buddy of mine crossed paths with that monster once. Guy got his limbs ripped off just for a bad look."
"What happened to him?"
"Died right there, obviously. That bastard's a maniac who tears people apart when he's bored. And now he's some religious leader? Sign of the end times."
"……."
He had no retort—it hit too close. He had been that kind of person once. Or rather, the original protagonist before his possession, exaggerated a bit in the telling. In a normal kingdom, a commoner pulling that shit would've been executed on the spot. It was blatant novelistic license, nothing more.
The receptionist leaped to her feet as he approached.
"H-how may I assist you, Marquis Aron?"
"Word of my marquisate travels fast."
"It's only natural after your great feats!"
"I need to see the tower master."
"Th-the tower master?"
"Yeah."
"But you need an appointment……."
"Appointments don't guarantee a meeting with him, do they? Just tell him Aron Blaine is here."
"I'll check right away!"
She bolted off. He settled into a guest chair, sipping the tea a staffer brought. For a moneyed institution like the Magic Tower, it wasn't total swill. Decent service, all things considered.
Soon, the receptionist returned, pale and hesitant.
"What?"
"Well……."
"I won't kill you—spit it out. I'm busy."
"The tower master doesn't meet without an appointment……."
"Oh? Is that so?"
"Please spare me!"
"Why would I kill someone for no reason? That's not me."
"……."
He stood and strode out. Behind him, he heard a thud—like someone collapsing in relief.
The elders burst into the tower master's lab. Their faces were ashen with fears of the tower's doom.
"Tower Master! You refused Marquis Aron Blaine's visit?!"
"Kekeke, and?"
Kaion, deep in chimera research, didn't even look up. He was grafting orc and goblin parts onto a direwolf. Few could grasp this historic experiment—it was just an interruption.
"You'll doom the tower!"
"Doom it how?"
"Aron Blaine—the guy who kills on eye contact. And you refused him?"
"So? He'd just demand we join the war. You volunteering?"
"Well……."
"Heh heh, I'm swamped with experiments. About to make history—what's some war to me?"
"Tower Master, you could've at least softened the refusal. Who knows what he'll do in a rage?"
"Will he, now?"
Kaion finally glanced up. Sleepless nights had bloodshot his eyes, dark circles sagging to his jaw. In his sixties, he looked ready for the grave—side effect of obsessive research.
"Got a plan?"
"Plan? If he storms in, I'll handle him. Now leave—I'm busy."
"Ugh, fine."
Mages were infamous for poor socializing. Holed up in labs daily, they rarely met people—hence the eccentric rep. Kaion dismissed Aron from his mind.
Tomorrow was mobilization day. The emperor would summon him come afternoon to discuss logistics and strategy. Even with full authority delegated, he needed to present movement plans.
Persuading the tower master had failed, so he reluctantly called in Setia, a Dark Shadow agent disguised as a noble lady. Her socialite guise was strikingly sexy—enough to turn any man's head. She licked her red lips and purred,
"Calling me out in broad daylight... such an honor. Care to sync up with me, my lord?"
"Dream on. Just one question."
"Pity. I had hopes of your harem. What's the question?"
"Trying to meet Tower Master Kaion. Tougher than expected."
"Heh, naturally."
She tittered behind her fan, her laugh oddly echoing Kainus's.
"Naturally?"
"Mages are research addicts who shun people. They craft scrolls and items just to fund materials. Once immersed, they go weeks without food or sleep—starvation's common."
"That bad?"
"Indeed."
The setting matched—he'd portrayed non-court mages as lost in their own worlds. Didn't expect it to play out so literally.
"So, how?"
"Storm in with overwhelming force. Your specialty, right, Master?"
"Just barge in and wreck shop?"
"Chop a few mage necks on the way up—they'll meet you."
"No other way?"
He could, but the gods were desensitized to such stimuli—no view spikes likely. Needed something else.
"Show overwhelming magic instead. But that's hard without access. Unless you teleport through the barriers……."
"Oh ho!"
"What?"
"That's the way."
"Teleport's 7th Circle, and breaching barriers takes massive mana."
"Dismissed. I'll handle the rest."
"N-no way—you're not using 7th Circle magic, are you?"
"More than that."
"Somehow……."
Her expression turned predatorily alluring—like a lioness spotting prey. No thanks; he had no interest.
Krulung!
Bzzzt-crackle!
The Magic Tower's defenses were tight—not from guards, but mana enveloping the whole structure. The first ten floors were open to visitors, but above were mage quarters, each layer sealed by ironclad barriers. Breaching them was no joke.
Yet he pierced straight to the tower master's lab.
Kaion gawked in disbelief. Continent-wide, only three 7th Circle mages existed, each heading massive organizations—they never trespassed, lest war erupt.
For Kaion, this was unprecedented.
"Damn, you're a pain to meet. Holed up refusing visitors—had to come myself, old man."
"Kekekeke, the world's jaws'll drop. Grand Master and 7th Circle archmage."
Kaion's face wasn't anger—pure curiosity at this lunatic. Mages had quirks; he was no exception. Normally, you'd rage at an intruder. But normal? Nah.
"What? Can't a Grand Master master 7th Circle?"
"Ha! Don't toss 'master' around lightly. Been obsolete forever."
"What if I have?"
"Heh, I'll call you big bro."
"Deal."
He formed hand seals in the air, sliced his palm for a drop of blood. A hexagram bloomed; the blood coalesced into a blood golem.
Practical magic: Golem Summoning.
Kaion's eyes lit with fascination.
"Keke, what a freak."
"Hey, a promise is a promise."
Kaion pondered, then bared his rotten yellow teeth.
"Kekekeke, big bro."
"……."
"Happy hearing that from an old fart?"
"Yeah. Soul's reborn."
"So? What's up, big bro?"
"I'll teach you practical magic. Join me."