A few days later.
Leaving Sepia behind, Dale faced the Tower Trial at the 11th layer. Nothing had changed.
Sepia was still his trusted teacher, and to her, Dale was surely still a beloved student.
What happened that day was nothing more than a meaningless incident, and Sepia probably didn't even consider it an "incident." She likely dismissed it as nothing more than a childish emotion from a ten-year-old.
At times like this, it was hard to tell whether he should be grateful for having a child's body or not.
"Nothing has changed."
He muttered to himself, almost like a command. The Black Tower's trial was no different. It was simply a matter of proving his existence as the rightful heir to the Tower Master.
Every move in the lower layers of the trial was broadcast through magical projectors, and it went without saying who the public's attention was focused on.
The prodigy of the ducal house and son of the Black Duke—himself.
Chilling frost and refined dark mana flickered in his palm as Dale cooled his thoughts.
The 11th layer.
A place where artifacts, grimoires, and all usable items were permitted, and where mages could unleash their full power.
A place where the Life Point Necklace no longer guaranteed the examinee's safety or survival.
Because of that, Dale's heart felt surprisingly light as he faced the trial.
No need to hide himself, no need to "consider" his opponent. It felt like a heavy shackle had finally been lifted.
In the windless chamber, Dale's cloak began to flutter in all directions.
His beloved artifact—the Shadow Cloak.
"Now that I've reached the 3rd Circle, how far can I push the potential of the Shadow Cloak?"
Darkness surged wildly beneath his feet, following the shadows of the cloak's hem.
"The mages of the Tower are different from our ducal knights."
Just before Dale entered the trial, he recalled the advice given by the Duke of Sachsen.
"To them, the Tower itself is not an object of loyalty, but merely a ladder to reach their goals."
As both his father and the Tower Master—
"Then what do you think is needed to earn the Tower's loyalty?"
"What is it?"
"Fear."
Fear.
That was why Dale had performed so spectacularly in the first layer's "Life Point Scramble."
Fear born from an overwhelming difference in power—one that could not be defied.
You cannot rule without dominating.
To Dale, the Duke of Saxon was sometimes strict, but always a thoughtful and loving father. But to the mages of the Black Tower and those beyond the northern borders, the name "Black Duke" carried a fearsome reputation.
And those who opposed House Saxon met no exceptions.
So Dale raised his head, recalling his father's advice.
──Tower Trial, 11th Layer. The format: "Magical Duel Tournament."
Like the first layer's "Life Point Scramble," it was a filtering trial.
But the opponents were no longer academy graduates. Previous examinees joined in, and Dale now faced official mages of the Black Tower.
"Still, they're not worth making a fuss over."
They were still targets to be crushed through overwhelming power. And Dale's opponent likely thought the same.
Elbert Rosenheim, the top 3rd Circle master of the Black Tower. He was burning with the desire to defeat the "son of the Black Duke" and prove himself.
As the whistle signaling the start of the duel rang out—or rather, just 0.0-something seconds before it—
"Dark Arrow."
Whoosh!
Elbert, the opposing necromancer, unleashed a dark arrow with rapid incantation.
He launched an attack spell before the duel had officially begun.
A clear violation.
'Oh? Look at that.'
Even Dale was startled and had to quickly accelerate his heart's circle.
Even a fraction of a second was enough time for a skilled mage to utter several syllables.
A jet-black blade emerged from the Shadow Cloak and deflected the dark arrow.
No sooner had he blocked one arrow than dozens more were drawn behind Elbert, ready to fire.
'…Huh.'
Dark arrows multiplied endlessly, swirling like a storm. Far beyond what a 3rd Circle mage should be able to handle.
It wasn't hard to guess the source.
'He's using amplification-type artifacts.'
A mage who had reached the 10th layer would naturally possess a few artifacts.
Though they couldn't compare to the level of House Saxon.
"Haha, how do you like this, Young Lord Dale!"
By cheating at the start and borrowing the power of artifacts, Elbert seized the tempo of the battle and launched a relentless assault.
Thud!
Dale dashed forward, dodging the barrage of arrows raining down like bombs.
'So that's how you want to play.'
A bold cheat right from the start. Yet no signal or sign came to halt the duel.
The spectators didn't grasp the significance of the timing, and those who did remained silent—testing Dale.
Cleverly, Elbert knew this and exploited it.
'This is why I hate mages.'
Knights serve their lord's house with loyalty. Mages pursue their own world. Their very nature is different.
A ruthless meritocracy. A fight of eat or be eaten.
Even the fact that Dale was the Black Duke's son was merely a tool for them to prove themselves.
"Now! Rise and swear eternal obedience before me!"
Taking advantage of Dale's defensive stance, Elbert began raising corpses.
"Children of darkness, deeper than bloodlust!"
The exaggerated incantation typical of self-absorbed mages.
'This is embarrassing.'
Though the wording was cringe-worthy and inefficient, the longer and more descriptive the spell, the stronger its effect.
As the undead rose, Elbert continued his barrage of dark arrows, empowered by artifacts.
Ultimately, drawing out an artifact's power was also a matter of the caster's skill. The title of top 3rd Circle master was no lie.
'Better than the rookies, at least.'
Dale remained silent, focused on defense. Not because he was cornered. Though Elbert had cheated with a preemptive strike, Dale had seen far worse.
If he wanted, Dale could end the fight with a single Ice Bullet.
But he wanted to give Elbert a chance.
To let him show everything he had.
Destroying someone's proof of self—that was the most definitive proof of all.
Soon, the enhanced undead surrounded Dale.
"Attack, children of darkness!"
Confident of victory, Elbert shouted again.
"…You've got nothing else to show, right?"
Dale asked calmly. Just as the undead charged toward him—
Jet-black blades shot up from beneath Dale's feet, piercing the skulls of the charging undead.
Crack!
They tore through the gaps in the skulls, immobilizing the undead.
Smirk.
Elbert grinned, as if he'd expected this.
"Corpse Explosion."
With a murmur, the immobilized undead near Dale exploded.
"This is the end, Young Lord!"
Flesh, blood, and bone burst like grenades. Tiny bone shards, too small for the Shadow Cloak to block, flew toward Dale.
Too late to raise an ice wall.
A critical moment.
But Dale, too, smiled like a villain—as if he'd expected this.
"…!"
The dark, hazy shadow beneath him wrapped around his body. Dale's flesh and bones lost form and collapsed.
As if melting into the darkness, into the writhing mass of shadows beneath him.
A new use of the Shadow Cloak artifact—
"Wraith Form."
The mass of shadows on the ground surged toward Elbert at terrifying speed.
──As Sir Helmut once said, distance is life in a mage's duel.
Whether Dale was a mage himself was beside the point.
"H-Hiiik!"
The shadows wrapped around Elbert's feet, forming a physical shape.
"You used rapid incantation before the duel even started."
From directly behind him.
"──Isn't that a bit cowardly against a child?"
The distance between them vanished. The shadows cast by the cloak began to writhe.
Like a swarm of piranhas smelling blood.
「Hungry, hungry, hungryyy!」
「Can we eat? Can we eat?」
「Let us eat now!」
As the starving shadows cried out, Dale smiled softly. Then murmured coldly.
"──Don't eat too much."
An eye for an eye. Artifact for artifact.
With that, the ravenous shadows began crawling up Elbert's legs. Like hundreds of dark snakes.
"Aaaah! Aaaaargh!"
He thrashed and screamed, but it was already too late.
The living shadows opened their jaws.
Clang!
A "valid hit" was registered, and Elbert's Life Point Necklace activated its shield spell and shattered.
But against the endlessly hungry shadows, a mere shield spell could do little.
The Life Point Necklace no longer guaranteed safety.
"Oh, I'm still getting used to controlling these things."
Dale smiled coldly, feigning innocence.
"Aaaaargh! Aaaaargh!"
Ear-splitting screams echoed.
Crunch, crunch, rip.
The ravenous shadows bit into his ankles, tore at his chest and shoulders, devoured his flesh and drank his blood. Carefully avoiding vital organs.
Not enough to kill—but enough to make him wish he were dead.
It had to be shown.
The undeniable difference in power—and the fear born from it.
Only when Elbert's body was torn to the brink of death did Dale finally speak.
"Withdraw."
The rampaging shadows gathered beneath Dale's feet.
In the face of that horrific scene, silence fell.
Not just the audience, but even the Black Tower's necromancers were speechless.
But this was the way of House Saxen—and the way of the Black Duke.
No one dared question that Dale was the rightful heir to the Black Duke.
──Tower Trial, 11th Layer.
Magical Duel Tournament, Round 2.
"I—I surrender!"
Round 3.
"I yield! I surrender!"
And finally, the final round.
"I want to live…"
Except for one match, all of Dale's duels ended in forfeits.
It was an anticlimactic conclusion, but considering Elbert's fate—
They had made the best decision they could.