***
"There are more people than I expected."
Though it was called the City of Death, it wasn't entirely shrouded in gloom and ominousness. Still, the crowd bustling beyond the carriage window was far from ordinary.
The reason wasn't hard to guess.
Even in this world, magic was a rare spectacle. And during the annual Tower Trials, the interior of the tower was specially opened to the public for entertainment.
In a way, it was no exaggeration to call it the city's grandest festival.
The "Red Tower Trial" in the imperial capital was one of the largest events in the entire empire.
Moreover, the Black Tower had only begun opening its doors during the era of the current Black Duke, making it all the more noteworthy. And that meant only one thing.
"A great many people will be watching you."
The Duke of Sachsen, his father, spoke.
To reveal oneself to the world of magic—and to the public—for the first time.
Until now, Dale's reputation had been nothing more than exaggerated rumors passed from mouth to mouth. But proving himself before the eyes of those watching the trial was a different matter entirely.
And so was the meaning behind that act.
"Yes, I'm aware."
Of course Dale knew. That's why he had rushed to reach the 3rd Circle and volunteered for the Tower Trial.
Clunk.
At that moment, the carriage came to a sudden stop with a light jolt.
"Looks like we've arrived."
The Black Duke spoke calmly.
"We pay our respects to His Grace, the Black Duke!"
"Our respects to the Duke!"
As the father and son stepped out of the carriage, the elders of the Black Tower, who had been waiting, bowed in unison.
"Look, it's Young Lord Dale!"
And from afar, the crowd's attention turned to the young prodigy of the ducal house.
"He's already a 3rd Circle mage at that age…!"
"They say he's the greatest magical genius the empire has ever seen!"
"No, I heard his swordsmanship rivals that of the duke's knights!"
'This is embarrassing. So embarrassing.'
In a way, he was the main character of this trial.
"Young Lord Dale."
Just then, a mysterious woman stepped forward from among the elders and approached Dale.
"Eris."
"We pay our respects to the Tower Master."
Eris, the Black Proxy.
An elder of the tower and the chief secretary who oversaw its operations in the Black Duke's absence.
"It's an honor to serve you, Young Lord Dale."
"I look forward to working with you, Miss Eris."
A cold, composed woman in a gray suit, her monocle gleaming.
"She will assist you during the trial."
"Yes, Father."
With that, the Black Duke turned and walked ahead, followed by the elders.
"This way, please, Young Lord."
Her voice was cold and emotionless. Dale followed Eris.
"The academy graduates who will be taking the trial with you are waiting."
Academy graduates, young necromancers of the 3rd Circle. They would be Dale's competitors, starting from the very bottom of the Tower Trial.
Whether such fledgling mages could truly be called "competitors" was another matter entirely.
──Tower Trial, First Layer.
"Life Point Scramble." A battle royale.
But it wasn't a true deathmatch.
Each participant was given a "Life Point Necklace" enchanted with a shield spell. They could raise corpses scattered around to defend themselves or attack others.
A critical hit would trigger the shield spell and destroy the necklace—resulting in elimination.
The attacker would then gain +1 point on their own Life Point Necklace.
To pass, one needed at least +3 points—meaning they had to secure two additional Life Points beyond their own.
It was a trial designed to swiftly and efficiently eliminate the dozens of applicants each year.
The rules of the "Life Point Scramble" were commonly used in the Five-Colored Towers and even among knights.
The Black Tower was no exception in filtering out the flood of novices each year.
──At least, that's how it should have been.
But when Dale entered the trial grounds, a group of necromancers formed a team to test his strength, commanding their undead soldiers.
'I knew this would happen.'
Amid the attention and hostility pouring in from all sides, Dale raised a single undead soldier. A chilling frost coated its entire skeletal frame.
Despite the disadvantage of being outnumbered, the undead soldier clashed—and then began a massacre… no, a bone-slaying.
Like a swordmaster cutting down foot soldiers in enemy ranks.
Dale's undead swung its bone blade, the frost on it scattering a blue gleam.
Clang!
As soon as the bone swords clashed, a wave of frost surged along the blade and engulfed the opponent.
Crack, crack.
They were frozen solid.
"W-Water magic!"
"Is he using dual attributes…?"
As the frost overtook the enemy undead, Dale's bone blade struck down.
Clink!
That was the end.
The blow shattered the frozen enemy into crystalline shards, like a glass bottle dropped on the floor.
"One."
Dale muttered calmly. The scattered ice shards began to swirl back toward his undead soldier.
Not to freeze enemies again…
Clang!
…but to form armor and a shield against incoming attacks.
The frost freely shifted between Frozen Armor and Rapid Freezing.
It was a near-divine unity of offense and defense.
"Two."
Clink!
Another enemy undead shattered under a single blow.
"Three."
They couldn't even counterattack. It was utterly one-sided.
"Isn't using water magic against the rules—?!"
One of the examinees shouted in panic.
This was a trial to test pure necromantic ability.
Only two types of magic were allowed: raising the dead and enhancing the undead. All other magic was forbidden.
"There's no rule that says you can only enhance the undead with dark magic, is there?"
Dale replied calmly.
"Even if that enhancement is a suit of living ice."
It was clever, but not wrong. And the trial didn't stop—an unspoken approval.
"Looks like…"
Dale muttered again.
"…you'll all need to work together."
With a smile that was hard to call either childlike or mature.
"Don't you think?"
The rules of the Life Point Scramble.
But here, there was only one common enemy—and those who joined forces to defeat him.
A ten-year-old child stood alone against dozens of necromancers and their undead soldiers.
There was no room for shame or despair.
"You block the undead! Aim for the caster!"
"There's only one of him! Overwhelm him with numbers!"
Their opponent was the son of the Black Duke.
Before long, they forgot it was a battle royale and began coordinating to subdue Dale.
No matter how invincible his undead seemed, the Life Point Necklace belonged to Dale himself.
A dozen undead blocked his soldier, while others charged in.
They moved like a coordinated undead army.
'…Oops.'
Watching them, Dale clicked his tongue—not in panic, but because he had forgotten one thing.
'Artifacts are banned too, huh.'
In lower-level trials for beginners, artifacts and grimoires were prohibited. He couldn't use his beloved "Shadow Cloak."
And with only necromantic magic allowed, he couldn't use water spells either.
Realizing this, Dale turned his gaze back to the undead army.
'Guess I'll have to do this the hard way.'
Still, nothing had changed. It was just a bit more annoying now.
Dale kicked off the ground toward the undead.
A suicidal move for an ordinary mage.
But as he dove into their midst, he narrowly dodged a bone blade swung at close range.
Crack.
He twisted the undead's wrist, snapping it, then tore off the arm and grabbed the protruding bone blade.
A Bone Sword—crafted by manipulating the skeleton's own bones.
He snatched it and deflected a strike from behind.
Wielding the white blade with skill, he moved fluidly, combining martial arts and swordsmanship.
As a swordsman, he began to face the undead alone. The rules forbade magic—but not physical combat.
"He knows swordsmanship too…!"
"That's the Black Duke's son for you…"
The audience, packed into the coliseum-like chamber to witness Dale's prowess firsthand—
"He really is the empire's greatest genius!"
"That's Young Lord Dale for you!"
Whether opponents or spectators, they all felt the same.
Awe.
Dale's undead crushed enemies like a one-man army, and Dale himself began to incapacitate them one by one.
He precisely struck the magical thread connecting undead to caster, using his bone blade.
It was a feat only possible due to the opponents' inexperience and Dale's overwhelming skill.
And without using the "Shadow Parasite," Dale's undead wasn't even automatic.
Swordsmanship and necromancy—either one alone would demand full focus, yet Dale handled both with terrifying precision.
Only fellow necromancers could truly grasp the horror of it.
At that point, the outcome was beyond dispute.
Once all usable skeletons and corpses were exhausted and the enemy force was annihilated—
Dale walked forward with his undead.
"H-Hiiik!"
A blade swung, the shield spell activated, and the opponent's Life Point Necklace shattered. Dale gained another point.
Life Point Scramble.
It was no longer a contest. It was a monopoly. A massacre.
One by one, Dale harvested the examinees' Life Points, swinging his bone blade without hesitation.
When only one examinee remained before him—
'What a monster…'
And as the bone blade came down toward him—
That was the honest impression of Velik, a 3rd Circle mage, upon facing Dale of House Saxen.
***