Chapter 23 Disciple
Before the war with the Duchess ever began—before cannons roared and the Empire's forces in the north bled—
Wrapped in a simple cloak, a lone man crossed the outer wards of Arthenburg and followed a narrow road that climbed into the eastern hills. The city lights faded behind him one by one, swallowed by the darkness of midnight. Frost clung to the grass, crunching softly beneath his boots.
At the peak stood the tower.
So high, slender, and majestic that even the royal palace could not rival it. Its stone walls were smooth and unnaturally refined, polished by magic itself. Every surface carried faint geometric lines—ancient reinforcement spells that strengthened the structure, repelled erosion, and redirected intruders away from dangerous heights. The place radiated authority stronger than any fortress.
The man stopped at the base and looked up.
So this is his domain.
The cloaked figure exhaled slowly, then stepped forward. The air shimmered as he crossed the boundary ward. Soft blue runes flared once beneath his feet, then faded.
"Permission granted," a voice sounded inside his head.
Only then did the door of the tower open on its own.
He stepped through.
The chill of winter was suddenly replaced by warm lamplight and the dry scent of parchment. Bookshelves spiraled upward along the inner walls, stretching so high they disappeared into shadow. Tomes floated gently through the air, gliding from shelf to shelf as if guided by invisible hands. Quills wrote on their own. Crystals hummed with stored mana.
A sanctuary of knowledge.
And at its center, seated casually at a long wooden desk cluttered with scrolls and half-dismantled spell matrices, was the man who lived in this place.
A thin old man in plain white clothing flipped through a book as if nothing in the world could possibly bother him.
"You're late," the old man said without looking up.
The cloaked man removed his hood.
"I had to avoid attention to come here alone."
"Attention is inevitable when a high-status man like you sneaks out at midnight," the old man replied dryly. "You're fortunate my wards like you. Otherwise, you'd still be walking in circles outside."
The young man allowed himself a faint smile. "Then I'll take that as a good omen."
The old man finally looked up.
"You're not here for politics, nor for help. You wouldn't wear that expression if you were."
"No. I'm here for something else."
"Interesting. Please, go on."
The young man stepped forward.
"Believe it or not—fire, water, wind, earth, light, darkness, space, lightning. Every element in this world… every element answers me."
"Impossible."
For the first time, the old man showed surprise, staring sharply at him.
"Even the greatest prodigies manage two. Three at most. Dual-element mastery is considered miraculous. What you're describing—"
"—is why I'm here," Alexius interrupted.
The old man stood.
A thin blade of light formed between his fingers. With a flick, it cut the young man's palm.
Blood rose into the air, suspended inside a crystal sphere.
Layers of analysis spells activated instantly.
The blood ignited.
A phantom phoenix flared.
A golden lion roared.
And the mana spectrum unfolded in rainbow colors.
The old man's hand trembled.
"…Omni-affinity," he whispered, staring at the young man in disbelief. "I have never seen this. Not even in the ancient records."
The young man bowed his head.
"Then teach me."
The old man blinked. "What?"
"I want knowledge. Take me as your disciple."
Disciple.
The old man had assistants, researchers, and archivists to help with his work and research. Yet he had never taken a disciple. He considered disciples unnecessary, and everyone inside the tower unworthy of it.
In Arcadia, becoming the disciple of a Grand Mage was an honor beyond nobility. Automatic entry into the Academy. Full scholarships. Monthly stipends. Authority equal to lecturers. A future guaranteed.
"I don't take disciples."
In truth, he wanted him as a disciple—or even as a colleague—since the omni-affinity was revealed. The boy could shake the entire world and rewrite history. Yet his pride would not allow him to accept easily.
"Then make me the first."
"…Why you?"
"Because if I fail to protect the people I love, I will regret it for the rest of my life. Even though I have the power to protect them, my ignorance would cause thousands to die and countless others to suffer."
The old man sighed.
"…Light and Space only. Those are my only elements."
"That's enough."
"…Welcome to the Leo Magic Tower Department, Crown Prince Alexius Leo—my one and only disciple."
"Yes, Master Solon."
For the first time in his life, Royal Court Magician Head Solon had taken a disciple—the rightful sovereign of the Leo Principality.
Two days after the fall of the Empire-occupied Ferrum, the Northern Region capital, Alexius divided his forces.
Half the army remained in the north as Lupus Custodias was appointed Temporary Governor of the Northern Territories to rebuild Ferrum, restore order, protect refugees, and prepare defenses. With her stayed Lieutenant Commander Centurion and half his forces, engineers, healers, and half the cannon corps.
With the remaining army, Alexius marched south.
Grand Mage Solon and Lieutenant Commander Comwell, along with Duchess Zemlya, traveled with him.
Duchess Zemlya was alive. She had been spared.
Her mana core was fractured and unstable—the backlash from using advanced earth spells. Even attempting to draw mana would cause irreversible collapse. Although she could still use intermediate spells—minor earth shaping, basic reinforcement, simple barriers—she could not cast any spell without Solon's permission, as he had placed a restraining spell on her.
She was powerless now.
Inside the carriage bearing the royal insignia of the Leo Principality—the Phoenix and Lion crossed in gold—sat three figures.
Alexius sat on one side.
Opposite him sat Grand Mage Solon and the defeated Duchess Zemlya.
"Why are you keeping me alive?" Zemlya asked.
"Because you're useful," Solon answered.
"So I'm livestock now?"
"No."
"So what? A slave to serve you?"
"No, not that either."
"Then what? Are you keeping me alive just to watch my humiliation every day?"
"You idiot. That's why you never won against me," Solon shrugged.
"Are you mocking me?" Zemlya snapped.
"I plan to study under both of you," Alexius said calmly.
Zemlya blinked. "What? You plan to study under both of us? Are you joking?"
"I am not. I am omni-elemental, and I intend to study earth magic under your teaching as well."
Zemlya was shocked.
Omni-elemental?
Impossible.
There had been none in the thousand years of the Empire's recorded history. Even the strongest mages alive were only dual-elementalists.
Is he lying?
No.
He couldn't be.
Senior would never have made a move—nor helped him in this war—unless something had truly shaken him to the core. That alone explained why Solon, that unshakable man, had intervened for the prince.
Intriguing…
Even though he is my enemy, I want to teach him.
He will change the entire world. He will change history itself.
Even the Empire doesn't matter anymore—for the sake of this boy.
…I want to watch the future he will build.
Solon chuckled.
"Earth is stubborn. It doesn't like divided attention."
"I'll make it listen," Alexius replied.
"I said the same thing when I was your age."
"For someone who pretends not to care, you talk a lot today, senior," Zemlya muttered.
"Age makes fools nostalgic."
She clicked her tongue.
Even now—even defeated—the old rivalry lingered.
A lifetime of competition neither had ever truly let go.
And perhaps…
Perhaps that tension could be turned into something useful.
Two Grand Mages.
One prince.
The future of the Principality—and perhaps the entire world—sitting in fragile balance between them.
The wheels of the carriage rolled forward.
Toward the next war.
(Continue...)