Chapter 540 – Pulsation (1)
A sword strike, focused more on weight, pressed down upon the empty air. The atmosphere split heavily, producing a strange sound.
The Sovereign, Latheon Ophniel.
Once, when Asher had suddenly appeared and challenged him, he was crushed unilaterally, but now he had fully recovered from those injuries and sharpened his senses.
Along with his sword, from helmet to greaves, his entire body was clad in armor──these were not pieces of equipment he wore in ordinary times.
War armament.
Forged through countless fierce battlefields, it was the symbol of one of the Central Continent's Four Pillars, the Sovereign.
"...I see lately that you've been putting a lot of strength into your body. Slow, but lethal. Well, it's good for me, feels like watching your old self again, but was that defeat really such a shock?"
Even when the Mercenary King, who was leaning against the wall and leisurely watching, spoke out, Latheon merely kept his gaze fixed forward, focusing on swinging his sword.
That fixed stare meant he was imagining an enemy before him.
Most likely, that opponent was Asher.
The occasional hesitation, the irregular halts in his strikes, betrayed his wavering.
"Told you it was dangerous."
"Shut up."
Finishing his training, Latheon reversed his grip, sheathing his sword. Despite the midwinter chill, beads of sweat trickled down his skin.
Two deep breaths calmed the boiling blood within him.
The Mercenary King asked.
"Judging from the way you spoke alone with the son of the late Diamoon tower master not long ago, seems like your mind is already leaning. Have you made your decision?"
"...Yes."
Latheon raised his eyes to the wide open sky.
Asher's proposal.
The Transcendent, deceiving the world, had presented three choices.
To remain guarding a fence that could collapse at any time, only to be swallowed by coercion and erased, or, to abandon everything built so far and flee.
Or else, to achieve restricted independence within those regulations.
All were distasteful, but inevitably, the decision had to be made one day. Even if Asher had not come.
The world was always full of strife.
Once chosen, there could be no turning back, hence the long deliberations, the recurring headaches from endless worries.
But now, his mind was clear.
"Make secret contact with the faction in the Diamoon Magic Tower that supports Albert Windirove, the son of the late tower master, and within four days, summon all the western lords here, to Aidaine."
His spirit was fierce.
"It is war with the Southern Alliance."
At last, the Sovereign moved personally.
***
Not long after, the Neutral Arbitrators of Medilon officially recognized the western declaration of war against the South.
Then, following the customary procedures, negotiations were also initiated.
Naturally, the Southern Alliance, struck dumb by the sudden thunderbolt, panicked. Already pressed by the North, they judged they had no room to fight back.
They knew well that rejecting the demand for war meant paying an equivalent price... which only showed how little there was to gain from a war with the West.
Yet, when the Sovereign presented absurd, utterly unacceptable conditions, the talks collapsed in mere minutes.
A massive conflict was now certain.
"Heh, things are turning interesting."
Ignacia, having received the report from her follower, showed amusement. In the form of a child, she giggled slyly.
At her side, like a statue, Urban spoke.
"The Sovereign, who once played king in his own house, now points his sword at the Southern Alliance, between them lies the Diamoon Magic Tower, and the newborn North has already taken hold of the East... this flow cannot be coincidence."
"When you know who resides in the Ownerless Land, it does feel artificial. Hehe, really tough, aren't they? Could it be, he's aiming to claim the Ownerless Land as the Transcendent's domain?"
"Possibly so."
It was plain that this series of events, with Asher surely behind them, would ultimately lead to the unification of the Ownerless Land.
"To act so boldly even before revealing himself to the world. That madness. No doubt he harbors a dangerously deranged, exceedingly perilous ideal."
"Just look at how he killed Amwol, Dahit Wethroel, and swallowed the whole of Black Hour. That says everything. And isn't that what makes it fun?"
Unpredictable.
Such unforeseeable incidents stirred many reactions in life, most fundamentally close to fear.
An uncontrollable situation often instilled helplessness. Pushing through countless obstacles was never easy.
Like swimming through a stormy sea.
Resisting the waves that surged endlessly, desperately raising one's head above water, vomiting out the seawater inhaled, and in that instant, the burning will to survive.
The dread that, in the unfathomable abyss where no toes could reach, dwellers of the deep might be watching hungrily.
The despair that no matter how hard one struggled, the scenery never changed, and yet, that tiny flicker of hope within, that land might still be found...
Just hearing it made one breathless, stressed. These, to Ignacia, were the ultimate driving force.
What fun was there in lukewarm reality, with no danger, no change?
Omnipotence was the pinnacle of misfortune.
Thus, she pitied most deeply those so-called gods of fiction, perched on bookstore shelves within fairy tales and novels.
To be able to do anything, meant that nothing around you ever changed. One would never know the worth of fulfillment.
That was why Ignacia felt gratitude, no, love, for the present.
The new magical world birthed by Dahit Wethroel's ideals. Asher's path, making the world noisier still.
And the ripples spreading across the continent, small disturbances overlapping, amplifying into waves.
A transitional age.
To experience such a time of rampant variables was truly a blessing. Of course, merely observing would not do.
To truly enjoy it, not watching but intervening was right.
"Ignacia-nim, a letter has arrived from the Magocracy of Arkenad."
The letter, passed along by her follower, bore the seal of a unique emblem.
The exalted octagram.
The sigil of the Magocracy, representing knowledge and the foundation of magic circles.
Crack.
Urban tore the seal himself. With no need for countermeasures, the protective spell preserving the letter shattered apart.
Ignacia, receiving the contents, lowered her gaze, then smirked.
"Faster than I expected. So, they must be treating the matter with that much seriousness?"
The sender, one of the Seven Demon Kings.
One of the Transcendents who ruled this world, his own hand had written the request for her attendance at a 'meeting'.
For this incident was no mere regional matter, but one affecting the whole continent, with Amwol as the known cause.
It was reasonable, for the Transcendents of the magical world to gather, to discuss and resolve the issue.
"Seems it's time I step out."
Since Asher had already asked her a favor, she would gladly grant it. That way, she too would later have cause to request of him.
A kind of transaction.
Of course, declining outright was never in her mind.
She had deep interest in the Transcendent Conference, and truth be told, if one wished to disrupt, the proper way was not withdrawal, but to cling even tighter.
She said to Urban.
"Right now, we're also conducting an investigation into the hierarchy-breaking incident caused by Amwol, officially speaking. So, tell the Magocracy to postpone convening the meeting."
Thus, Ignacia cast her delaying spell.
***
The 'Investigation Bureau', one of the pillars of the Magocracy of Arkenad, was busier than ever. They had no choice.
They simply had to be.
For in this nation, which had the highest ratio of mages across the entire continent, this incident had struck a direct blow.
Even the rule of walking through corridors had been temporarily lifted.
Numerous capable investigators
The Bureau Chief was no exception.
"...How far has the phenomenon progressed?"
"Until yesterday, it remained at the upper 3rd hierarchy, but this morning, a report came in that even a lower 4th hierarchy mage had a dream. At this rate..."
"Yes, it will reach the High Mages."
At the words of Lambert, an investigator who had even been dispatched on-site, the Bureau Chief pressed his sore eyes hard with his fingers.
It had already been four days since he last slept.
Not merely staying up one night, but spending all day reading reports and moving about, pouring everything into grasping the situation, the exhaustion was indescribable.
"Amwol... not content with driving the magic tower's power source into a frenzy and waging all-out war against the Tower Alliance, now he throws the world into turmoil as well. The infamy of being the greatest criminal of the current magical world was no lie."
"Indeed."
"Well, enough useless lament. Lambert, have we received responses from the Transcendents who got the Demon King's letter?"
The Demon King he referred to, was the 7th, the third among the Demon Kings to awaken as a Transcendent, a descendant of the First Demon King.
"Yes, so far, replies have come from five places... but of those, three said they would attend, yet requested that the meeting be postponed until their investigations were concluded."
"Three?"
"The Illusion of the Great City, the tower master Dark Warton, and the one crouching in the Canyon."
The Bureau Chief blinked.
"Well, ignoring the Out-of-Order one is fine... but even the Necromancer and the Keeper? Hm, those two who usually stay aloof from worldly affairs, yet even they take interest in this matter? Understood. Report it as such."
Gathering the documents he had spent nearly ten hours organizing, he tapped them neatly together and tucked them under his arm.
It was the Bureau Chief's duty to report directly to the Demon King.
"Ah yes, what about the Arnak Empire case? The evidence suggesting the Sword of Arnak left the Empire?"
"Since the last report regarding the War Lord's fleet movements, no further news. The Empire's intelligence network is simply too dense, and we are terribly understaffed at the moment..."
"I see. Tch, nothing we can do."
The Bureau Chief nodded, leaving his office with Lambert seeing him out. His brow throbbed from the sheer weight of thoughts.
Why on earth had Amwol done such a thing?
Why had the Sword of Arnak, protector of the Empire, crossed the border, and why had the War Lord's main fleet moved?
'But then, where is the War Lord?'
It was widely known that the current War Lord of the Empire had a deep wanderlust, so his whereabouts being unclear was no great issue.
But the movement of the super-massive airship, the Atorium, without the War Lord aboard, was no matter to take lightly.
The Empire must have had a reason to do so.
"Hm."
His mouth felt parched.
The Bureau Chief took out a small candy from his inner pocket, refreshing his mouth as he headed toward the royal palace.
***
Tiny grains of sand raged from all directions, battering their robes. At every chance, they tried to creep into eyes, nose, mouth, and ears.
The Desert of Silence.
Here,
For the twenty-ninth time today, Ferwick let out a sigh, raising his voice.
"How long are we going to keep walking like this, Legrit!"
"I don't know either!"
Legrit, walking ahead, snapped back immediately. She turned her head slightly, showing the 'pendant' tucked beneath her robe.
Within its circular metal frame, the gem glimmered faintly blue.
"Still, compared to earlier, it's a little brighter, even if only a little. So the direction is correct! Just keep following properly!"
"...Haa."
"..."
Ferwick answered with his thirtieth sigh, moving his steps again. By now, Hilla, who was behind him, had long since given up on speaking.
What was once unfamiliar, the sensation of sand, had grown insufferably tedious.
Time passed, and finally, the three broke through the storm. Only a few steps forward, and suddenly, a bright desert spread before their eyes.
The boundary of the storm was clear, as though a line had been drawn.
"At least it's more bearable to walk now, isn't it?"
"It's not!"
Hilla strained her jaw, voicing her strong dissatisfaction, but of course it was of no use. Soon she gave up, brushing off the sand.
Suppressing yet another sigh, Ferwick glanced around.
"...Still no sight of anything resembling the First Magic Tower. That dune on the horizon seems quite a distance away."
"If it could be found just by crossing one storm, it wouldn't be called a legend."
War Lord of the Arnak Empire, captain of the Ark──Legrit Narsilia, was crossing the untamed land between the Western Continent and the Central Continent, with only Ferwick and Hilla in tow.
In search of the First Magic Tower.
All clues so far pointed to somewhere within the Desert of Silence.
"Ah, if only we could use airships, nothing could be better. I hate walking...!"
"Then shall we turn back?"
Following the direction Legrit indicated, Hilla turned her gaze.
The sandstorm that had tormented them until moments ago greeted them.
"...Better to keep going west than to turn back."
"Then that settles it."
Complaints vanished.
"We've almost perfected our measures against the Desert of Silence's environment, haven't we? Walking long hours may be tiresome, but it's hardly a true obstacle."
"Well, true enough."
Both Ferwick and Hilla had spent a long time with Legrit, exploring countless wildernesses together.
Though it was their first time stepping into the famed Desert of Silence, there was no worry.
Ferwick agreed.
"The storms and extreme temperature shifts are harsh, but if we can endure those, there shouldn't be any major problem. Especially compared to the magic zones where aberrant creatures attack at every turn──"
Rumble...!
Suddenly, tremors spread.
The desert shook.
As though waves were crashing, the sand heaved, then with a massive blast, a gigantic shape emerged.
"What is that."
A colossal, quadrupedal insect, its height alone reaching tens of meters.
Though eyeless, it sensed the faint vibrations of Legrit's party, spreading wide its maw lined with tens of thousands of tiny teeth.
Then it charged without delay.
"Your mouth brings trouble."
"Ahem."
Hilla glared at Ferwick, preparing to unleash spells in rapid succession, but Legrit stepped forward.
Her bronze skin gleamed beneath the sunlight.
Facing the unknown for the first time, she laughed, filled with curiosity and thrill.
"Yes, this is the essence of exploration."
Magic
Activating the mana circuits throughout her body, Legrit's eyes flashed.
With a roar, a golden lightning bolt burst forth, streaking through the air, piercing the insect. The desert stirred with its grotesque scream.
This marked the true beginning of their search for the First Magic Tower, the supposed origin of hierarchy magic that had existed a thousand years ago.
***
And likewise, the Eastern Continent too, could not escape the surging currents that set the world in motion.