Why Do Memories Flash Like a Lantern Slide at a Time Like This?
Why, of all times, did memories of the past flicker by like a lantern slide? A bitter sneer tugged at his lips.
Benjamin recalled the events of long ago.
The Wall family had produced brilliant mages for generations. The former Magic Tower Master, Morris Wall, had been like a grandfather and mentor to the brothers. Though the position of Magic Tower Master wasn't inherited by blood, it was undeniable that most of its holders hailed from the Wall family.
Naturally, the young twin brothers of the Wall family entered the Magic Tower and became the master's disciples. Benjamin had never coveted the position that was beyond his reach. Of course, he had envied his far superior brother at times. But he soon realized it was futile for a mere prodigy to envy a genius, and he let even that go.
Someday, his brother Vincent would become the Magic Tower Master, and he himself would rise to senior mage, supporting him. He believed without a doubt that it would come to pass.
But that faith shattered all too soon.
'Brother, what the hell are you doing?!'
'…….'
Vincent stared at Benjamin, who blocked his path, as if gazing at a stranger. At first, Benjamin thought it was just another extension of their usual banter. He'll apologize with that goofy grin once he calms down. Pressing down on his anxiously pounding heart, Benjamin said,
'Cut the joke and let's head back to the Magic Tower. The succession ceremony is tomorrow.'
'…….'
Those purple eyes, darkened and sunken. What had Vincent said that day? Benjamin couldn't quite remember. All he recalled was clutching his broken arm in shock after trying to stop him.
Vincent had fled the night before the ceremony and devoted himself to the Lumine Temple, becoming a priest. True to his genius blessed by mana, he wielded immense divine power, as if showered in the gods' love. Unlike the Magic Tower, the Lumine faith passed the papacy through bloodlines, so he couldn't become pope. But after becoming the youngest high priest, he wielded power rivaling it.
Benjamin harbored strong resentment toward him, but he couldn't deny his brother's exceptional talent. Excluding the saintess, Vincent was the only priest who could hear the voice of the gods. It was only natural for someone who could have been Magic Tower Master.
Vincent used that ability to deliver oracles. Similar to prophecy, but fundamentally different. Unlike prophecies that could alter fate, oracles were ironclad futures—arranged directly by the gods, unbreakable by the laws of the world. Defying them invited retribution from karma.
Thus, Vincent could never lie in an oracle, and countless rulers followed them with unwavering faith. Benjamin had been one of them.
Through Vincent—no, through the oracle of the Lumine faith—he learned of a great peril looming over the continent. To avert it, he took Ren Magicus as his prized disciple.
Ren, one of the children named in the oracle, was truly an exceptional mage. Benjamin vowed that someday he would pass everything to Ren and step down from the Magic Tower Master's seat. With that power, Ren would save the world as the oracle foretold.
He had lived without doubt. But when had the cracks begun to form?
Benjamin thought of those defiant red eyes staring him down.
'No matter how many I sacrifice, I'll survive.'
An existence unbound by this world's laws. Abigail Carpoem. No—not Abigail Carpoem, but the soul from another world inhabiting her body.
She alone acted with brazen confidence, as if nothing mattered. That's why she could move and speak so fearlessly.
Inspired by her, Ren left the Magic Tower, and Benjamin could no longer trust the oracles. The small spark of doubt grew uncontrollably. His suspicion of Vincent soon extended to the Lumine faith, the gods, and eventually the world itself.
Did the gods truly deliver oracles out of pity for humanity? Or did they wield them to bend people to their whims? Sacrilegious thoughts that would earn excommunication from the temple, but Benjamin no longer cared. He had always been a cool-headed mage who didn't believe in gods. It was more strange that he'd followed their oracles so faithfully.
Yes. Looking back, it was odd. For over a decade, he'd been nothing but a puppet dancing to their strings.
Once suspicion took hold, Benjamin began watching Vincent closely at the first sign of anything suspicious. Was that why? Was that why this had happened?
"Ugh…!"
Benjamin, bound hand and foot, let out a ragged groan. His mouth wasn't sealed, but his body was paralyzed, words barely forming.
It had been a mistake. He never imagined anyone would strike in the Magic Tower's uppermost chamber, protected by layers of barriers from past masters.
"Heh heh."
Vincent chuckled pleasantly, looking down at the helpless Benjamin.
"Feels good. Now I finally feel like the real 'me.'
"Urgh."
Benjamin glared at Vincent, who spouted more nonsense, grinding his teeth.
"Ah, any last words?"
As if granting mercy, Vincent loosened the binding force slightly. But Benjamin felt no gratitude. He glared with all his fury.
"Who the hell are you?"
"What?"
Vincent laughed as if amused by those blazing purple eyes, then asked in a cheerful tone,
"You figured it out now?"
"……!"
Benjamin's eyes shook in disbelief. The vague suspicion he'd harbored became reality before him, leaving him speechless.
"Tell me, Benjamin Wall. Would the man who tossed aside a glorious position and fled the Magic Tower do that?"
"……."
The answer was obviously no. But he wanted to pretend otherwise because...
"Humans are so amusing. Deceived by appearances."
Vincent snickered and raised his hand. His once-foggy mind now cleared. Perhaps because that Irregular had severed all bonds. He felt satisfied at last with his newfound freedom.
The monster surge hadn't ended in the form he desired, but it was a minor detail. The real stage was just beginning.
"Who the hell are you! Since when!"
Benjamin's furious shout echoed through the room. Ironically, the earnest barriers of past masters kept his allies from sensing the danger. There were mages outside who would rush in at a gesture, yet they only hindered now.
"Pity. I didn't want to kill you with my own hands."
"Kuh."
The hand stroking Benjamin's cheek slid down to grip his pale throat. The fake wearing Vincent's skin smirked down at his suffering brother.
"Right up until he vanished, he begged me not to touch you. So damn noisy about it."
"……!"
"I tried letting someone else do it, but they failed."
Those cruel words came from the still-gentle face of his brother. Rage, tears welled in Benjamin's eyes—rage at his own stupidity for not noticing until now, at his helplessness, and at the impostor before him.
Gritting his teeth, Benjamin spat a curse.
"You bastard…!"
"Haha."
Vincent watched delightedly.
"The Magic Tower Master's dying words are such vulgarity. How amusing."
No trace of guilt in his twirling hand. In truth, Vincent was simply amused. He felt a twinge for not granting the 'real Vincent's' last wish mercifully.
But that sentiment was gone now, so no matter. He planned to kill his 'brother' swiftly and painlessly.
Countless swords of light materialized around Vincent.
"What should the cause of death be?"
His purple eyes turned golden. Benjamin swallowed hard at the eerie, inhuman sight.
"Suicide in madness sounds fun."
As he said, Vincent's mana matched Benjamin's perfectly. Any trace examination would fool everyone into thinking it was the Magic Tower Master's own.
"Well then, farewell."
"Kuh!"
Vincent swung his hand indifferently. Benjamin squeezed his eyes shut.
But the blades of light didn't pierce him.
Whoosh!
The swords shattered against crimson-black aura. Benjamin opened his eyes wide at the dark red mana encircling him.
"Benjamin!"
"Master!"
Different voices called to him. Benjamin turned in disbelief.
* * *
The moment the scene shifted before my eyes, I instinctively drew up my mana. Not consciously—pure reflex. As a Swordmaster in place of the crown prince, my body responded with astonishing speed.
Whoosh!
The aura surging from me obliterated every blade of light.
"Benjamin!"
"Master!"
Startled, Ren and I rushed to the slumped Benjamin. High Priest Vincent stepped back, eyeing me with interest.
"High Priest Vincent!"
Even as my voice burned with fury, Vincent just smirked. Had he finally lost it, showing his true colors?
I scowled.
"What is the meaning of this, High Priest Vincent?"
After hearing from Ren, I'd grown suspicious of Vincent. That's why I'd secretly warned Antonio before chasing the black curtain.
But witnessing him about to kill Benjamin firsthand was absurd. Maybe because I liked the character quite a bit in the original story. Learning he was allied with the hidden black curtain soured my mood terribly.
I raised my sword warily.
"Tch, stop interfering already, you Irregular."
"Irregular?"
"That body was supposed to house a puppet from the start…"
"……!"
Puppet? Did he mean Abigail? Had the black curtains been manipulating her too? Cold sweat trickled down my back.
"Who the hell brought you back to this world?"
"What… what do you mean?"
Those unsettling golden eyes raked over my body. His words were hard to grasp, but I tried to parse them.
He seemed to know I was a possessor—a soul from another world. But back? What did back mean?
"Hm? Speak."
A strange sense of déjà vu hit me at those long, curved red lips.
"Alexandria."
"Alex… andria…"
Definitely a name I'd never heard. Yet I couldn't explain why my hands trembled so.