Chapter 33 – Farewell
The subjugation squad that had returned to the Viron Territory each received their treatment.
In the meantime, when Maros spoke to the lord about the Undead known as the Wailing Knight, the entire territory was thrown into turmoil. The danger of an Undead commanding others—if it had stepped outside, the whole territory could have become a grave.
Because of that, there was uproar everywhere, but it was nothing Verden needed to care about.
Early dawn.
Stepping outside the castle walls and arriving at the forest, Verden took a deep breath. The cold air filled his lungs.
"Estiria Kingdom, huh."
He had only obtained a few fragments of memory, but if they were true, the kingdom would be condemned worldwide.
For some unknown reason, they massacred their own soldiers and buried them alive. The resentment of the soldiers dying buried in the soil was so strong that Verden could feel it beyond the memory itself.
He shook his head, casting away the thought.
The memories of the Undead were not what he needed to dwell on right now.
Verden observed his mana circuits. They were different from before he had subjugated the Wailing Knight.
The circuits had expanded further, and his speed of recovering mana had become faster.
"I've grown stronger."
Just as he thought, real battles where life and death hung in the balance greatly contributed to his growth as a Mage.
Compared to Goad, also a 3rd-tier Mage, Verden's magic excelled in every respect.
Especially with magic strengthened by his magic tome, the power of his spells rivaled even that of mid-4th-tier magic. The mana stored in his heart was greater still. Added to that were his all-element mana circuits.
When considering pure magical ability, as far as Verden knew, he was the only 3rd-tier Mage in history to have such specifications.
"But it's still not enough."
Power is an objective matter.
No matter how strong he was, it was still within the standard of the 3rd tier. If he faced a 5th-tier Mage or higher, his chances of victory would be slim to none. In both the number of spells they could cast and their overwhelming magical power, he would be crushed.
"And if it's a Magician, then there's not even a point in thinking about it."
A Magician.
A Mage who, upon reaching the 5th tier or higher, gains enlightenment and transcends to a realm of their own, walking their personal way of magic, escaping in part the absolute laws of magic.
A Mage bound by the framework of magic could never dare to oppose them.
In that sense, Bohemirn's tower master, Balrog Bessias, was a 7th-tier Magician, an existence transcendent enough to be called omnipotent.
Compared to him, Verden's strength was like a firefly beneath the moon. No matter what he did now, it was impossible even to stand before such a being.
Verden looked up at the sky.
The clouds parted, and the moonlight of the full moon poured down upon him.
He needed power.
He needed knowledge.
He needed equipment.
As long as it could make him stronger, he was prepared to stand at death's door at any time.
For before fulfilling his longed-for revenge, he would never die. That was why he had attained Defying the Heavens.
Though he was growing explosively faster than any other Mage, he could not hide his frustration. Perhaps that was greed.
"..."
Verden, gazing at the full moon, reached his hand toward the sky. Of course, it would never reach.
The goal he sought was like that moon, something everyone deemed impossible and gave up on.
But still—
Verden stretched his hand a little further.
He still did not reach it, but he was closer than before. However faint, it was a clear difference. He was closer to his goal than the self he had been just moments ago.
If he kept moving without giving up, someday he would reach it.
That fact alone was what mattered to Verden.
***
The day came to leave the Viron Territory.
The adventurers who had formed the subjugation squad returned to their homes, while the priests remained in the territory to observe the state of the mines.
While waiting for the carriages to be prepared, Galliark approached. Though he had sustained injuries that would have killed an ordinary man several times over, he was perfectly fine.
"Well, of course. He's the brute who fought the Wailing Knight barehanded."
"Hey, Asher. You're leaving today too?"
"What is it? Came to collect a reward?"
"Reward? Ah, that?"
Galliark glanced at Rox.
Startled, Rox quickly averted his eyes, and Galliark chuckled before speaking to Verden.
"You're so prickly. Weren't we comrades who risked our lives together? You barely managed to take it down thanks to me, and that's your attitude?"
"To be precise, it was thanks to me. Didn't you faint in the middle of it?"
"You little bastard, always got to have the last word."
Just what kind of life had he lived to end up this shameless?
Yet, despite his foul mouth, Galliark bore goodwill toward Verden. Among Platinum Rank adventurers, he was one of the stronger ones, and he especially admired the strong.
And the magic Verden had shown was impressive enough.
"By the way, Asher. You ever thought about being an adventurer? With your skill, you'd reach Platinum in no time."
"No."
Belonging to a group, receiving orders, being bound by restrictions—he hated all of it.
Unless a guild invited him with countless benefits, it was out of the question. At Verden's curt reply, Galliark gave him an incredulous look.
"Talk about pride. That four-eyes, Goad, was making a huge fuss about almost dying, but you? Well, if you don't want it, fine. But if adventuring and mercenary guilds aren't for you, then what, you planning to go to Gray?"
"Gray?"
At the unfamiliar word, Verden tilted his head.
"What, you don't even know that? Then how were you planning to make money? Don't tell me you thought fame would just bring work to you?"
"Is that not allowed?"
"Pwahaha! You really are a Mage who doesn't know a thing about the world. If you live like that, you'll just get used. To fill your belly, you can't just sit there waiting with your mouth open—you've got to hunt the prey down yourself."
"…So, what exactly is Gray?"
With a smirk, Galliark spoke quietly.
"'Gray' is what we call the network of information brokers who dwell in society's shadows. You can buy or sell information with those whose credibility is assured. Each broker has their own angle—some skirting legality, others not. But here's the key: Gray is both an information market and a place that mediates requests."
"Requests?"
"You think you're the only one who doesn't want to join the Adventurer's or Mercenary Guilds? There are plenty of people who move for money, fame, or other reasons without being tied to rules. Gray is where those people gather. I sometimes take requests from there myself. The Adventurer's Guild jobs alone aren't enough to satisfy me when it comes to hunting strong foes."
Verden's life had mostly been spent in the magic tower.
It was only natural he knew little of the world. His magical knowledge surpassed anyone's, but his life experience as a human was shallow compared to the butcher before him.
"Gray, huh."
Verden calculated the benefits he could gain from Gray.
First, information.
To make use of treasures he had taken from the tower, such as the "breath of element" and "mana crystal," he needed special materials and skilled experts. It would take a long time if he had to find everything alone.
If he could offset that with money, all the better.
"And I can get that money by taking requests."
Moreover, there would be opportunities to face strong foes as well.
Money, fame, and growth through real combat.
If the butcher's words were true, Gray was a place highly appealing to Verden.
But he had one question.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because it'll be fun."
Galliark bared his teeth in a grin.
This gray-haired man had seen many Mages, but Verden possessed the greatest potential of them all. He was the same kind.
A desire for power above all, a fighting spirit hidden beneath a calm appearance—the qualities of a true strong one. That alone was more than enough reason for Galliark's goodwill.
Verden could not fully understand his way of thinking.
"I'll give you a lead. If you're interested, go to the slums of Cohen and find 'Pale Arrowhead.' He won't be hiding, so you'll find him quickly. If not, well, you can just grab a tin can and beg for requests on the street. That could be fun too. Just don't die in some boring way."
A rough, crude farewell.
With a sharp grin, Galliark climbed into the carriage and departed.
"Crazy bastard."
There was no consistency in his actions.
The name butcher suited him well.
Next came Iris and her group.
The adventurers boarded one by one, each taking their seat. As Iris climbed on last, she turned back. Then, she stretched out her hand.
"Senior, aren't you getting on?"
"Right."
"You're not planning to fly, are you? You've only just recovered from your injuries…"
Ah. Iris stopped speaking, staring at Verden's face.
He had always kept it in his heart, the thought that one day, just like the time he suddenly appeared in Martes, Verden might just up and leave without warning.
That was why Iris felt it in her gut. The farewell she thought would come later, was now.
Her eyes quivered slightly.
"W-why…?"
"There's somewhere I need to go."
He had no further business in Martes anyway.
And thanks to the information he obtained from the butcher, his next destination had already been decided.
"You said… you wanted to learn Imbue Magic…"
"I've read all the books. And everything I learned from you, I've already mastered."
"Then, then what about the request fee?"
"They'll deposit it into your account."
"Then…"
Iris bit down on her lip.
At first, their meeting had been sudden, but to Iris, it felt like fate. He had saved her life countless times, taught her difficult theories that even the Academy hadn't been able to explain, and even gave her unexpected access to elemental magic.
As a Mage, it was as though she had grown not just one, but two stages higher.
She wanted to hold on to him.
But Verden had his own path to walk. Trying to keep him would be selfish and a burden.
The right thing to do was to let him go freely.
"..."
A thought she had always avoided suddenly surfaced.
She called him "senior," but did Verden really think of her as a junior? Perhaps he just thought of her as a nuisance.
He had taught her Imbue Magic, but even without her, if he had the books, he would have figured it out on his own. All she had really done was slightly shorten his timeline.
Compared to that, she had received so much.
Iris's hand slowly began to fall.
At that moment, Verden reached out and clasped her hand.
She looked up, eyes widening.
"See you next time."
Those simple words—an indescribable surge of emotion welled up inside her.
Her sky-blue eyes filled with tears, and her blue hair swayed gently in the wind. With effort, Iris parted her lips.
"See you next time."
And so, the two of them promised a reunion without a set date.
***
A red-haired Mage, Rovellin.
Behind her, the corpses of several Mages burned in raging flames. As crimson mana surged, the air heated up, searing the lungs from deep within.
"Answer me. Why is Black Hour targeting the Bohemirn magic tower?"
"Ghhk… I-I really don't know… gaaaahhh!"
Not the answer she wanted.
She raised the temperature of the surrounding air, scorching his organs. From deep within his lungs, cooked alive, came screams of agony, echoing again and again.
Yet even through such repeated torture, Rovellin could not extract an answer.
Thud.
The Mage, finally dead, collapsed limply.
She scattered fire, incinerating the corpse to ash.
The subjugation of another Black Hour branch—the fourth one already.
But wherever she went, the answers were the same: "I don't know." Of course, the plan to destroy the magic tower was not information that would spread to the lowest members.
If it were up to her, she would have joined the hunt for the higher branches. But her ability was far too lacking for that.
"Verden…"
Rovellin was far too weak to accomplish vengeance with her own hands.
Fwoooosh!
The hidden Black Hour branch in the forest, its underground and above-ground structures alike, turned to ashes.
As she emerged outside, a Mage in splendid robes was clapping.
"Impressive. For mere 2nd-tier magic to have this much power… you really must be a special trait-holder."
"…I told you I'd handle this myself, Maniacs."
"And yet, how could I let you go alone? You might become Master's fourth disciple someday. It wouldn't do for you to die by mistake, right?"
The third disciple of the Bohemirn tower master, Lucard Maniacs.
With a seemingly innocent, friendly expression, he smiled gently. His voice carried a tone of genuine concern, but Rovellin furrowed her brows in displeasure.
"Stop thinking useless thoughts and focus on your thesis. The Magic Society is already watching you closely."
"Haha, I didn't think you'd be paying attention to my thesis. But of course, it's progressing—"
"Of course I'd pay attention. After all, after that famous 'Multi-dimensional Continuity Theory,' this will be your first thesis in seven years. Isn't it only natural I'd be curious how great it'll be?"
Rovellin's crimson eyes fixed firmly on Lucard.
Her gaze wasn't just about curiosity.
"What are you trying to say, Rovellin?"
"Multi-dimensional Continuity Theory, did you really create it?"
Lucard's expression stiffened slightly.
"…What do you mean by that? That sounds like a statement that could be easily misunderstood."
"Seven years ago, there was a rumor. That someone had tried to outright steal that theory. I wasn't there at the time, so I don't know the details, but I do know it caused a stir in the tower for a while."
"And it ended as nothing more than a trivial incident. I was officially recognized by Master, after all. Oh, are you jealous?"
"Not jealousy, suspicion. A Mage who supposedly created such a groundbreaking theory, acknowledged worldwide, has spent seven years producing nothing significant. The only achievement being his rise from mid-3rd-tier to upper-4th-tier. Even with the tower's full support."
Silence.
Rovellin turned her gaze away and flared her mana.
"I'll head back first."
She rose into the sky, vanishing from sight.
Lucard stood in place, still smiling. But his expression soon twisted into a grimace.
"That fucking bitch."
Even before, her eyes on him had been irritating. Now she had the gall to bring up a matter long since settled.
So what if she had a rare trait specialized in fire? She was only 3rd-tier, and far too arrogant.
He wanted nothing more than to break that pride of hers.
"…But I can't."
He had worked too hard to climb this far.
He couldn't let himself be ruled by fleeting emotions and risk falling out of favor with the tower master.
If only that damn tower hadn't been destroyed, he could've just focused on his thesis without all this nuisance.
"…Still, it's not all bad."
Lucard sneered.
Verden's death. The tower master said it had been taken care of, but it had still bothered him.
He had wished the bastard would just die somewhere, and now—he suddenly had.
"With this, the fact I stole that thesis will be buried forever."
It was like a long-held weight had been lifted from his chest.
All that was left was to focus on the path ahead.
Create a thesis to sustain his reputation, reach the 5th tier, and attain the path of magic. With his limit measured at 5th tier, he could never ascend to the tower master's position, but he could still wield great power within the tower.
When the time came, he would deal with whatever irritated him.
"Time is on my side."
Lucard dreamed of his brilliant future as he returned to the tower.