After that, Dale continued to break through the layer guardians one by one, focusing on the "completion of the 3rd Circle."
He tested new spells, added modified formulas based on knowledge from his previous life, and combined various types of incantations—freely exploring the realm unlocked by the 3rd Circle.
He refined and polished the three interlocked circles with precision, gaining a clear understanding of his own capabilities.
When he reached the 20th layer, leaving behind opponents who fell like autumn leaves, a worthy adversary finally appeared.
The Headless Knight.
Clad in pitch-black armor and wielding a massive greatsword.
A foe incomparable to anything he had faced so far—especially considering the natural disadvantage between mages and knights.
'It's no fun if everything goes exactly as expected.'
Dale smiled and extended his hand toward the Headless Knight.
Whoooom!
Refined dark mana surged from his fingertips, sweeping through the chamber like a storm.
But contrary to the audience's breathless anticipation, no bloody battle unfolded. In fact, no battle occurred at all.
Instead…
Thud!
"W-What's going on?"
"Look at that!"
Amid the murmurs of the crowd, the Headless Knight knelt before Dale—of its own will.
The guardian of the layer abandoned its duty and opened the path it was meant to protect.
As if swearing fealty before its true lord.
It knelt and drove its greatsword vertically into the ground.
Absolute submission.
Watching this, Dale muttered coldly.
"End yourself."
His voice held not a shred of emotion.
At his command, the Headless Knight gripped its greatsword in reverse and drove it into its own breastplate without hesitation.
Its armored body shattered and collapsed.
To the audience expecting a fierce duel, it was an anticlimactic end.
But for those who understood the meaning—especially the elders of the Black Tower, the Black-Clad Guard—it was a moment of utter shock.
To subdue a being of darkness requires a greater darkness.
That a creation of the Black Tower's elders would betray its creator and swear loyalty to Dale meant only one thing: Dale's refined dark mana had already reached the level of a Black Tower elder.
A mere 3rd Circle child mage!
And not just that—he wielded dual attributes of water and darkness, and he wasn't even ten years old.
'Impossible.'
Yet the impossible was unfolding before the eyes of the entire Black Tower.
Every mage has their own "world," and the path of a mage is the process of completing that world.
They could not even begin to imagine—
The source of Dale's mana: a void filled with chilling frost and ashen stillness.
His mana was imbued with the darkness of a winter night, and before that darkness, the Headless Knight had submitted.
To subdue darkness, one must wield a greater darkness.
A world of frost and shadow that even the elders of the Black Tower could not touch.
That was Dale's true power as a mage.
'Maybe I went too far.'
After subduing the Headless Knight, Dale realized he may have overdone it. This was no longer about proving himself.
'…I think I'll stop here for this year.'
He had achieved his goal. The trial was complete. So, turning his back on the path the Headless Knight had opened, Dale walked away.
"W-Why?"
"Why is he leaving?"
Ignoring the murmurs from the audience, he stepped into the area that signaled forfeiture.
Even for Dale, there were lines that should not be crossed.
To continue climbing the tower would mean stepping into a realm beyond even monsters—into something unknown.
A realm that not even the title of "son of the Black Duke" or "the empire's greatest genius" could justify.
Some time later, after Dale's trial ended, the Tower Trial itself came to a close.
The Grand Hall of the Black Tower.
"The Tower Master approaches!"
There, the Black Duke entered.
As the one who reigned at the pinnacle of the Black Tower, he was a figure of endless awe and authority.
Following behind him was Dale, the "heir of the Black Duke," who had proven himself through the trial.
Ruling through fear that none could defy.
That was the way of House Saxen—and neither Dale nor his father were exceptions. Thus, the elders of the Black Tower, the Black-Clad Guard, bowed before them.
Then, all the mages of the Black Tower gathered in the hall lowered their heads.
A display of loyalty that resembled a military parade.
This was Dale's official debut ceremony—and the formal establishment of House Saxen's succession.
Unlike noble inheritance, in the meritocratic world of magic, such a position could not be earned by blood alone.
Yet no one dared question Dale's right to stand beside the Black Duke.
In a way, it resembled the order-through-power philosophy of the Red Tower.
At the age of ten, Dale had reached the 3rd Circle—and even cleared the 20th layer of the Tower Trial.
The overwhelming feats he displayed during the trial quickly spread across the empire.
The rightful heir of the Black Duke. The empire's greatest genius.
The people of the duchy spoke of "Young Lord Dale" with pride, as if boasting about their own child.
And the loyalty of House Saxon's vassals and knights toward Dale went without saying.
Dale's growing legend began to unite the entire North.
Some time after the Tower Trial ended—
The northern empire, within the vast duchy of House Saxen.
Neigh!
Across the snowy plains, cavalry in black armor and ash-gray surcoats stood in formation.
A cavalry battalion of fifty riders.
Dale now commanded that unit in his own name.
By order of the Duke of Saxen, they were preparing for a skirmish against a small band of orcs within the duchy.
Unlike past campaigns where he joined for experience, this time Dale bore full responsibility for the outcome.
Of course, commanding troops as a noble heir was a required virtue. But for a ten-year-old, it was an extraordinary burden.
Yet not a single knight present doubted Dale's ability as a commander.
To "Dale of Saxen," age was truly just a number.
In fact, the pride he instilled in his knights—and the loyalty they returned—was unmatched.
The trust House Saxen's knights had in Dale was beyond imagination.
A noble heir who sparred with knights every morning at dawn, who once threw himself into battle to save one of his men from orcs.
What other noble scion acted so nobly?
A true lord worth laying down their lives for.
Earning the trust of one's subordinates is one of a commander's greatest virtues.
Thus, Dale's knights raised their lances in unison. Facing the orc phalanx with burning morale.
"For Young Lord Dale!"
"For House Saxen!"
"Charge!"
Dale's cavalry charged toward the orc formation.
Lances clashed with shields, shields shattered. Orcs screamed, and green blood sprayed in all directions.
Before the charging black cavalry—it wasn't a battle. It was a one-sided slaughter.
The knights of House Saxen were not those Dale had to protect—they were blades wielded solely for Dale.
"Young Lord Dale has returned!"
Saxen City.
The knights of House Saxon rode through the city streets.
As proof of their victory, they proudly displayed the severed heads of the orc horde.
"The young lord has purged the monsters from the duchy again!"
As Dale and his cavalry returned to the ducal castle, the people of the duchy raised their voices.
Having led several successful monster purges with his knights, Dale's growing military achievements became the talk of the realm.
"As expected of Young Lord Dale!"
A noble heir who took the lead in purging monsters from the land.
It was a duty nobles were supposed to bear—but in this world, such "duties" were rarely upheld. In truth, it wasn't so different in any world.
So it went without saying how Dale's example—fulfilling the duties of nobility—was perceived.
Saxen Castle.
The Duke's office.
"We report the subjugation of 145 orcs to His Grace."
"Casualties among our cavalry?"
"Three lightly wounded. No other losses."
Dale calmly reported the results, and the Duke of Saxen asked coolly in return.
"Did you use magic to protect them?"
"It was solely the work of House Saxen's blades."
When Dale quietly shook his head, the Duke finally allowed a faint smile to form.
"Well done, Dale."
"Young lord, it seems you've already grown accustomed to commanding a full battalion!"
After the father and son finished speaking, Sir Helmut Blackbear finally spoke up.
"It's all thanks to your teachings, Sir Helmut."
Sir Helmut taught more than just swordsmanship.
He was Dale's sword instructor—and also his mentor in strategy and tactics.
How to lead troops and win wars.
Commanding a single battalion of fifty cavalry wasn't difficult. Orders were quickly relayed, and decisions were few.
But when multiple battalions formed a regiment, and two or three regiments formed a division—
Commanding over a thousand knights became an entirely different task.
And in a full-scale war, the Duke of the North would summon far more than a thousand cavalry.
Moreover, war was never fought with knights alone.
"Truly, the young lord's learning speed is unbelievable."
Even so, Dale's ability to absorb this world's military doctrine was astonishing.
In truth, Dale's "strategic vision" hadn't formed overnight.
He saw himself as a commander. He calculated the synergy between military tactics and necromancy.
"At this rate, it won't be long before you lead a full territorial campaign!"
At that moment, Sir Helmut laughed heartily.
"A territorial campaign, huh."
At the unexpected words, Dale smiled faintly without showing his thoughts.
A new stage to prove himself was always welcome.