Night Armor
Congratulations. Sub-quest completed.
You may claim your reward.
When Luden stepped back into the ruined house, Darkus was nowhere to be found—only Basel remained.
The place was a wreck. It had been hanging on by a thread to begin with, but now cracks spiderwebbed across the walls, leaving the whole structure so precarious it looked ready to collapse at any moment. And that was no exaggeration. Under normal circumstances, the entire neighborhood could easily have been swallowed up by the two men's battle. Which was proof, in its own way, of just how hard Basel had worked to keep it contained.
Luden approached him carefully. "Are you quite alright?"
"I'm fine."
For all the violence of the battle, Basel looked exactly as he had at the start.
"And Darkus?"
"I'm sorry."
There was no detailed explanation, but none was needed. The bitterness etched into the old man's face said everything.
He let him go on purpose.
Had he simply been unable to bring himself to end an old schoolmate with his own hands? It was a shame, but Luden resolved to respect his wishes.
"I owe you a great debt, truly. You have my word—Darkus will never lay a hand on you again."
"What do you plan to do now?"
"I intend to take responsibility myself."
This affair would not end quietly. And Darkus, having slipped away, would surely seek revenge for today—and when he did, he would undoubtedly call upon the full power of Lunvel.
"I'm sorry, lad. With things turned out this way, my research ends here as well."
And so Basel meant to shoulder it all himself—even abandoning the research he had given everything to. Luden couldn't understand why he would go so far. And yet.
"If that is your will, Lord Basel, then there's nothing to be done."
"Thank you for understanding."
"Think nothing of it. They'll be tied up for a while anyway, so we can take this slowly."
"Eh?"
Something in those pointed words made Basel look puzzled.
"Shall we start cleaning up here first?"
Luden spoke as he gazed up at the moon, hanging bright and unclouded in the night sky.
"What humiliation is this."
Dragging his wrecked body along, Darkus's face was twisted with the shame of it. It wasn't simply that he had lost to Basel.
Basel. A senile old fool already half in his grave.
Being reduced to this state was bad enough—but to suffer the indignity of receiving his pity as well. Just recalling that gaze, the one that had looked upon him with sympathy, made his insides twist. How dare anyone show him mercy. It was utterly unforgivable. And that brat, too.
The moment he returned, he vowed, he would mobilize every last shred of Lunvel's power and erase the name of Vivre from the world entirely.
But his resolve turned to ash the moment he arrived at the tower.
"T-Tower Master! We have a crisis! The Association is sending an investigation team—they say a report came in accusing us of illegal activity, and—"
"What?"
"That's not all. Protests are pouring in from the other nobles as well. Duke Farzan has declared he will sever his patronage entirely."
"What nonsense is this?!"
At the report from Harnel, who managed the tower's day-to-day affairs, Darkus could not suppress his confusion. What was all of this supposed to mean? He had buried everything he had ever done, perfectly. He left no thread loose, no trace behind, always moving through proxies with his own hands kept clean. There should have been nothing left to seize him by the collar—not now, of all times.
Who in the world?
In Darkus's mind, he could hear it—the sound of everything he had built collapsing. But he refused to accept it. This was his Lunvel. As if it would crumble over something this trivial.
"Harnel! Send word to Duke Farzan this instant. I will face him personally."
"Y-Yes, sir."
Lunvel would not be taken from him by anyone.
"Quite the uproar."
Of course there would be. This was, after all, a scandal involving one of the most powerful magic towers in Vedia. Every manner of gossip about Lunvel was already making the rounds through Resen.
"I imagine things are quite busy on your end as well."
By now, Darkus would be straining every nerve to smother the situation. A tower like Lunvel had plenty of nobles in its pocket, so no doubt he believed he could smooth it all over in no time. But this time, those very connections would be what tripped him.
"The dangers of Romelia came to light far ahead of schedule, after all. The man must feel as though the fire's at his heels."
The forbidden perfume, Romelia. In the future as it had originally unfolded, it was some nameless little magic tower that presented Romelia to the world. But it was later revealed that the tower had merely handled the presentation on commission—the one who had actually created and distributed Romelia was someone else entirely. Darkus. Lunvel.
"Lunvel knew of Romelia's dangers from the very beginning."
Darkus was no fool. Naturally, he would have known full well how dangerous it was. But throwing away the profits to be wrung from it was more than he could stomach, so in the end he had resorted to a trick—propping up an obscure tower as a stand-in in his place. That way, every ounce of risk was shifted onto someone else's shoulders while he reaped the rewards from behind the curtain. Truly a serpent's cunning.
"But this time, there will be no escaping like that."
Romelia had never officially launched. Its existence had only been revealed as a prototype to high-ranking nobles and merchants—which meant, in other words, that he had not yet found his scapegoat. The Association, having examined the composition analysis Basel had worked so hard to produce, would now tear through Lunvel from top to bottom, and every other truth he had buried so deep would come rising to the surface alongside it. As the saying goes, no house is so clean that nothing falls out when you shake it. And that went double for a tower that had eliminated rival after rival by every imaginable means on its climb to the top.
Until now it hadn't mattered, because Darkus had covered his tracks so meticulously. But this time, even the nobles friendly with him would be pulling their hands away. Lunvel would hardly be finished by this, of course—but until it recovered its former prestige, it would not be moving freely.
"So that settles that nicely, then."
Flinch.
When Luden turned his gaze, Charles—kneeling like a condemned man—jolted.
"I-I'm sorry..."
"Well. In the end, you couldn't come up with the million rub."
"Ugh."
Charles screwed his eyes shut. The promised month had come and gone, and the million rub had never materialized. Truthfully, he had been nursing a sliver of hope. As long as Luden was backing Vivre Magic Tower, he was bound to be Lunvel's enemy, and some part of Charles had hoped the man would be crushed by them. But those hopes had come to nothing. Judging by the results, even Lunvel looked like it had been toyed with by this devil of a man.
Why did it have to be someone like him?
He lamented his lot, but all he could do was wait for the fate descending upon him. To the thoroughly tense man, Luden said,
"Well. A month certainly was short."
Charles's eyes flew open. There was no anger, no blame in the mild gaze fixed upon him. Could he actually be planning to forgive him? A flicker of hope kindled in Charles's chest—
"It's fine. You can work off the rest with your body."
"...I'm sorry?"
"Lord Basel's going to be busy from now on anyway. It'd be nice to have someone to run ragged."
"..."
Before Charles's hollow-faced stare, Luden curled his lips into a smirk and produced a familiar-looking document.
"Let's start with the contract. It's a special magic contract I had Lord Basel prepare, so sign it with complete peace of mind."
Charles's face crumpled.
"Uwahahahah! It worked! Finally! I've done it!"
Basel roared with laughter. And at that very moment—
Main quest completed.
You may claim your reward.
The quest was complete. That alone told him the outcome, but Luden couldn't help asking directly.
"Don't tell me—you've finished it?"
"Uheheheheheh."
Instead of an answer, Basel simply kept letting out that unpleasant chuckle. Marin, who under normal circumstances would have had a word to say about such a master, was nodding off with dark circles sagging beneath her eyes.
Standing up, no less.
"Behold. This is the culmination of my research!"
"..."
"Marin! You rascal, who told you to doze off?!"
"Uwaaaaah! S-Sorry!"
Jolted awake by her master's bellow, Marin hurriedly held out what she had brought before Luden.
"This is it?"
Aside from its jet-black color, it was a rough-looking bracelet, without so much as a pattern or ornament. To the eye alone, there was nothing particularly impressive about it. But under that subtly expectant gaze, Luden picked up the bracelet and examined it closely.
"Put it on."
"May I?"
"The performance tests are already finished. It's perfectly safe."
At those words, Luden fastened the bracelet around his right wrist. A pleasantly cool sensation spread against his skin. Basel explained how it worked.
"Simply pour your mana into it while chanting the activation phrase. The phrase is simple—just call out, 'Summon Night Armor'."
"Summon Night Armor."
Whirrrr!
The moment the words left his lips, black armor was summoned, wrapping around Luden as it fitted itself onto his body of its own accord.
"Whoa."
A low murmur of admiration escaped from within the helm. He hadn't felt a thing, and yet somehow he was already fully armed. When he reflexively glanced at the mirror, a knight in magnificent black armor stood there.
Basel sounded thoroughly pleased.
"It's armor made from the bones of the monster that guarded the gates of an ancient ruin, along with the materials you provided. Sturdier than what knights wear, yet lighter besides."
"Don't tell me you crafted this armor yourself as well?"
"Hardly. This is Marin's work. Believe it or not, this one is also our tower's resident blacksmith."
"That was my field to begin with, you know."
"That's impressive."
Having heard the explanation, Luden couldn't help but concede. This was, without question, the real deal. In terms of sheer convenience, it was downright overwhelming.
"To take it off, say 'Dismiss Night Armor'."
"Dismiss Night Armor."
Pop!
Just as it had appeared, the armor melted away, dissolving smoothly into nothing. To Luden, who was staring at the bracelet in wonder, Basel continued.
"For now, that's our only success. That black ore you provided—the 'Black Star Stone'—is all used up, so we can't make any more."
"Shall I look for a way to find more?"
"No need. It would only be a matter of time—we have a sample, so we can produce more of the same. Marin and I both know our alchemy."
At those words, Marin's expression curdled. It was plain that she suffered terribly under Basel, and Luden shot her a sympathetic look. Then, just like that, Basel dropped a staggering remark.
"It's yours, by the way. I'm glad it suits you."
"What?"
"Why so surprised? It was made for you from the very beginning. Don't tell me you thought I'd wear it myself?"
Well, no. And yet Luden found it hard to believe. And no wonder—wasn't this the first fruit of the research Basel had devoted his entire life to? Surely it was an artifact that held meaning for him as well.
"Enough. Think of it as a small gift for our patron."
If he put it that way—
Luden resolved to accept it with gratitude.
"I'll put it to good use."
"See that you do. If any problems arise, come find me or Marin. Now, I must get some rest. Marin will see to the rest."
"Huh? Wait just a moment, Master—"
As if everything were finished, Basel strode into his room with a refreshed expression. He pretended to be fine, but his complexion was nearly as worn as Marin's—it was clear he had pushed himself hard.
Marin grumbled.
"Haah. Dumping it on me again."
"Is there more to discuss?"
"Ah, nothing major. It's about your stake."
Isn't that rather important?
"There are still improvements to make and material problems to solve, so it's not possible yet, but later we plan to file a formal application with the Association and make Master's research public."
With Darkus's atrocities coming to light, Vivre Magic Tower had won its chance to wash away its stained name. With a sub-space transmission artifact, they could more than reclaim their past glory.
"Master has instructed that you be given a 10% stake, Luden."
"What? Ten percent?!"
Luden was startled. Ten percent. In practical terms, his patronage amounted to 200,000 rub and a handful of materials—wasn't that far too generous? Of course, that was no small sum in itself, but weighed against the shockwaves a sub-space transmission artifact would send through the world, it was practically being handed the thing for free.
"Is that really alright?"
At Luden's question, Marin gave an easy nod.
"Master says it's fine, so it's fine."
"Even so, this is far too much."
"Then bring me more rare materials when you come across them. Anything like Black Star Stone and you'll be more than welcome."
The way her eyes glinted even as she said it drew a chuckle from Luden. Like master, like apprentice.
"I'll be sure to."
"Take care on your way. And don't manhandle the Night Armor too roughly."
"I'll keep that in mind. Oh, that's right."
Before leaving, Luden turned back to Marin and asked,
"Is Marin really your name?"
"Marin is just a nickname Master uses. My real name is Mavelian."
"...Mavelian."
After murmuring the name for a moment, Luden turned away. The last question that had gnawed at him all this while was finally answered.
So that's how it was.
Mavelian. That name belonged to the whistleblower who had exposed Lunvel's misdeeds in the future he'd left behind. He had wondered why someone inside Lunvel would betray the very tower they belonged to. Could it have been revenge—on behalf of a master whose research had been stolen so unjustly?