Chapter 581: The Gradual Fall
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 581: The Gradual Fall
Phyllis rose slowly.
Her waist-length hair undulated without the presence of wind, drifting like fine seaweed in the ocean. The entire room felt as if it had been plunged into the deep sea; majestic mana surged, cold and stifling.
The walls, doors, windows, floor, and ceiling began to distort in grotesque fashion. Colors bled into one another like the work of a drunken wandering painter wielding a massive brush to create an abstract oil painting.
No spell had been chanted yet; this was merely the terrifying pressure of a Truth-Tier Grand Magister.
Although the transition from Radiant to Truth-Tier did not involve the same fundamental evolution of life force as a martial artist ascending to the Crowned level, a vast chasm still existed between the two. This was why the Royal Mage Corps had maintained a strict requirement for the rank of Guild Master since its inception.
Only a Truth-Tier mage, one who had reached the pinnacle of the magical path, could suppress the prideful elite mages under their command.
And now, this was a Truth-Tier mage in a state of fury following a betrayal.
Beck, who was still merely an elite mage, stood no chance of facing her head-on.
"Any last words?" Phyllis asked softly.
"Knowing your temperament, I imagine that even in failure, you wouldn't allow yourself to be captured alive."
"Last words?"
Beck’s face turned slightly pale under the crushing pressure, yet he showed little panic. He smiled and said, "How about looking after my cat? Once I’m gone, someone needs to take care of him."
"Still so fond of cats, I see."
Phyllis sighed. "Fine. I’ll raise him for you."
"Thank you." Beck lowered his eyes.
"Don't mention it."
The roiling mana suddenly stilled.
This was not because Phyllis had relented. Rather, that violent energy was being channeled with exquisite precision, sketching out the framework of a powerful spell.
In an instant.
A torrent of destruction flowed through the cramped room like a river of death from the underworld.
The shifting colors of the rainbow light illuminated Beck’s face. He watched as the radiance gradually reached out to swallow him, knowing this was the Guild Master’s final mercy—choosing a spell that would leave him no time for pain.
But then...
"On second thought, never mind."
The rainbow light of the spell froze just before it could consume Beck entirely.
Then, like a bubble under the sun, it vanished in an instant.
"I won't be leaving my cat to you. Because I know that deep down, you’ve always preferred dogs," Beck said quietly.
The spell failed to trigger. Phyllis staggered back a few steps and slumped powerlessly into her chair. The majestic mana dissipated, and the room returned to its clear state. In a heartbeat, she had transformed from a high-and-mighty Grand Magister back into a defenseless noblewoman.
"This... how is this possible?"
Phyllis looked at her trembling hands in disbelief; she couldn't muster even a shred of strength.
"That medicinal tea... I should have isolated it with my mana."
"You did isolate it. But I didn't do anything to the tea, so your precautions were useless."
"You..."
"Heh. Tampering with tea is such a cliché trick. Even in a story, the readers would call it stupid even if it worked."
Beck smiled and looked down at the object still in his hand.
"This is where I actually made my move."
"The documents?" Phyllis’s pupils constricted.
"Yes, the documents. I handle the files you process every day, don't I? That is the best place to hide a trap."
Beck continued, "Of course, to keep you from noticing, the toxicity you were exposed to each day was extremely faint. It simply accumulated over time. Its sudden eruption now is enough to keep you from moving freely for at least an hour."
"Accumulated over time... so you’ve been planning this for a long while?"
"Just some advance preparation. If the current situation hadn't arisen, the toxins would never have triggered, and they wouldn't have caused any harm to your body."
Beck’s expression softened slightly. "In truth, how could I ever really hurt you?"
"Disgusting."
Clink.
With a crisp sound, the jade bracelet on Phyllis’s wrist shattered. The magic inscribed upon it activated, turning into a glow of mana that shielded her.
Beck shook his head with a bitter smile. "Why bother? I’m not going to do anything to you. I just want you to stay here quietly."
He leaned over and familiarly pulled an exquisite object from a small compartment to Phyllis’s left.
The object was covered in profound, delicate patterns, yet it looked as though it had been broken, appearing as only half of a crescent moon.
Golden mana drifted over it. In the entire Royal Mage Corps, only two people were authorized to touch it. It just so happened that he was one of them.
Phyllis did not stop him; she couldn't.
"So your goal really was this," Phyllis said, her face grim.
"Of course. This is the Central Magic Device that controls the Palace Forbidden Spell. It’s only because of this that you can use magic in this room. But if the palace remains shrouded by the Forbidden Spell, we won't be able to do anything, will we?"
Beck said, "Therefore, the prerequisite for everything is to shut down the palace's defenses."
"Don't forget, the Royal Mage Corps only holds half of it. You can't fully control the Forbidden Spell. It’s useless even if you take it," Phyllis spat through gritted teeth.
"I know that, of course. The other half is in the hands of the palace's Bell Ringer."
Beck picked up the Central Magic Device and walked toward the door. He paused to look back at Phyllis, offering one last smile.
"But since I’ve already made my move, naturally, someone is dealing with that Bell Ringer as well."
*
Dong—
The bell tolled loudly, signaling the official arrival of midnight.
In the northwest corner of the palace, the Clock Tower stood tall. Every hand on the great clock pointed straight up at that exact moment.
Dong—
A burly, disheveled man with a messy beard pushed a massive metal striker the size of a three-story house. The sound was loud enough to echo through the entire palace and even the Upper District.
Twelve tolls in total.
As the booming sound waves faded, the man’s hands shook slightly as he steadied the swaying metal striker, returning everything to silence.
He did it with practiced ease, as if he had performed the task countless times. The weathered look in his eyes, hidden beneath thick brows, suggested he wasn't as young as his powerful physique implied.
Even so, after moving such a massive metal object, only a light sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead.
"Ha... getting old. I didn't used to sweat at all."
The Bell Ringer shook his head, dissatisfied with his performance.
But time cannot be reversed, and people do not grow younger. Having stayed here for nearly a century, he was naturally approaching his twilight years.
"Still, even if I am decaying, I’m not someone just anyone can push around."
The Bell Ringer turned to look into the darkness behind him.
The Clock Tower was vast and empty; usually, the Bell Ringer sat here alone. But now, he sensed a second presence.
Tap, tap.
It was the sound of bare feet on old wooden floorboards. The Bell Ringer’s gaze sharpened as he realized the intruder was... a little girl?
The girl’s long hair was disheveled, revealing only half of a pale face. Her petite frame was hidden inside a baggy white robe. She stumbled and swayed as she walked, looking injured in a way that instinctively evoked pity.
"Is the world outside changing that fast? Have we reached the point where we have to send little girls out to fight?"
The Bell Ringer scoffed, then shook his head. "No, that’s not right. The base of the tower is guarded by knights, not to mention the mechanical traps. To make it up here, you can't be some ordinary girl who lost her mother."
The girl didn't answer. She simply continued to approach, step by step.
"However... no matter how capable you are, it’s meaningless in front of me!"
With a roar, the Bell Ringer’s vest burst apart, revealing muscles that looked as though they were cast from steel.
"This is the Clock Tower, one of the cores of the Palace Forbidden Spell. Here, all mysticism, mana, and fighting spirit are suppressed. Therefore, as long as we are in this tower, my pure muscles—honed through years of training without a single impurity—are invincible!"
The Bell Ringer struck a pose like a bodybuilder, brimming with confidence.
However, in the next moment, a massive shadow loomed over him.
The smile froze on his face. He slowly looked up and saw the girl’s form suddenly becoming gargantuan.
Slender limbs split apart, connected only by thin threads. From the gaps in that flesh, countless monstrous, scale-covered limbs erupted. They surged forward like the tentacles of a legendary sea monster, writhing before the now-diminutive Bell Ringer.
"Holy shit."
Staring at monster limbs that were dozens of times thicker than his own arms, the Bell Ringer muttered blankly:
"Are kids these days really this twisted?"
*
"Marquis Angus?"
Count Bugard walked into the Imperial Council Hall and was surprised to find he wasn't the first to arrive.
"What are you doing here?"
"Hmm?"
Marquis Angus, who was already there, frowned slightly.
"Count Bugard? Were you also invited by Marquis Morse?"
"Also... you too?"
"Indeed."
Marquis Angus nodded.
"Marquis Morse sent me a message saying there were important matters to discuss in private and asked me to wait for him here in the Imperial Council Hall."
"...I received the same message. It said to wait alone, but..."
The two looked at each other, seeing the same suspicion and unease in each other's eyes.
Before they could discuss it further, another person entered, stopping in their tracks when they saw the two already in the hall.
"Marquis Angus, Count Bugard, you're also..."
"You..."
Before long, several more familiar faces entered the hall. Count Bugard looked around and realized that almost all the high-ranking ministers of the Empire were present—except for Marquis Morse, the man who had invited them.
"What is the meaning of this? Is Marquis Morse plotting something?"
"If he were plotting something, he should have lured us somewhere more secluded. This is the palace; what could he possibly do here?"
"Could the Marquis be playing a joke?"
"No, Marquis Morse has always been rigid. He was nearly driven to spitting blood by Lord Oranriel recently; he doesn't seem like the joking type."
After some discussion, no one could figure out what Marquis Morse was up to.
After all, as imperial ministers, it was perfectly normal to invite one another privately to discuss administrative matters. Furthermore, the meeting place was the palace—the safest location in all of Belland. It was truly difficult to find a reason for suspicion.
"Exactly. This is the palace. Why would he gather us all here?"
Angus habitually tapped his knee, his gaze drifting out the window.
The palace night was as peaceful as ever. However, as the weather grew warmer, small insects were already being drawn to the lights, fluttering toward the flames.
Angus casually flicked a finger. A tiny bolt of mana shot out, crushing the annoying insect outside the window.
He went back to his thoughts.
But before he could pull his hand back, it froze in mid-air.
Angus looked down in disbelief at the remains of the poor insect drifting away in the wind.
Wait.
This was the palace... so why was he able to use mana?
Could it be...
"This is bad!"
Angus’s expression changed instantly. He bolted upright.
"Move! We can't all stay here!"