Chapter 575 - Outbreak of War (1)
The Bohemirn Magic Tower, which had exerted great influence over the Western Continent and the Central Continent, had long sought to expand into the untouched Eastern Continent.
Expanding the tower's territory naturally led to the strengthening of its prestige.
The Midros Autonomous Territory was one of the more suitable footholds.
However, all efforts of the past three years had been in vain due to the ongoing Black Hour War.
The Magic Tower of the Volcanic Island and the Larrian Magic Tower, who had always regarded Bohemirn's ambitions with displeasure, took advantage of the fact that Bohemirn had concentrated its full might on the Western Continent to make their move.
Their method was primarily assassination.
For eliminating key figures was the most troublesome blow one could deal to Bohemirn, since recruiting and training personnel was no easy task.
Those unfamiliar with the rivalries between towers might raise a skeptical brow.
Attacking a higher-ranked tower?
What if they retaliate?
A natural question.
The Volcanic Island Magic Tower and the Larrian Magic Tower had no Transcendent among their ranks. Even if the Bohemirn tower master did not personally intervene, it would make no difference.
After all, the military rankings assigned to the ten towers factored in correction values.
The logic being, if Transcendent beings were recognized purely as military power, the tower rankings would fluctuate wildly and then stagnate, which would be contrary to the very purpose of evaluating "magic towers".
This was why the Artison Tower, specializing in the production of magic items, ranked second overall despite its low military ranking, and why towers with Transcendents could still rank lower militarily.
This meant, simply, that the Bohemirn Magic Tower's military ranking itself was second.
The combined might of Bohemirn's council of elders, Itium, exceeded that of the Volcanic Island's elder council, Andranov, and the Larrian Tower's Committee of Five Colors.
And when comparing the main forces trained by each tower, the difference grew even more apparent.
If conflict escalated into open war, it was easy to predict that the two Eastern towers would suffer catastrophic losses.
But.
No matter how powerful they were, the towers could not openly slaughter one another. Doing so would eventually collapse the tower system itself.
If that collapse spilled over into damaging the entire continent, it would expand into a war involving the nations that supported each tower.
Thus, wars between towers were fought mostly beneath the surface.
Like a game of chess, one might say.
The pieces fought fiercely, while the players themselves remained safe.
Of course, now and then villages were annihilated or cities half-destroyed in these hidden conflicts, but such incidents were considered trivial matters.
And if the devastation was too great, mighty forces like the Empire of Arnak might raise objections. Still, it was nothing serious.
A mere pretense of listening, a nod to their dignity, and the issue was settled. Even an empire was reluctant to confront a magic tower openly.
There existed no force that could truly punish the towers who reigned supreme over the continent.
At least, not yet…
In any case.
For these reasons, the Bohemirn Magic Tower regarded the Volcanic Island Tower and the Larrian Tower, who were desperately seizing on Bohemirn's weakened state, as thorns in the eye.
Some went beyond annoyance, harboring disgust and murderous intent.
Lauen Seedger, one of the elders of Itium, was a prime example.
"The stench of such lowly vermin is utterly revolting."
Lauen pressed the bridge of his nose with the back of his hand, frowning. Though the winter forest around him was filled with a refreshing fragrance, he felt only disgust.
To be dispatched to the Eastern Continent of all places, not even the Central… Though it was the will of the tower master, I cannot help but feel some dissatisfaction.
Of course, he dared not question, not even slightly. He had immediately obeyed, using the teleportation circle to arrive here.
That was the proper course.
Well… coming to the Eastern Continent, home to those two mangy dogs of towers gnashing their teeth to guard their bowls, was tolerable enough.
But the problem lay in the nation he had been assigned to oversee.
The Principality of Riviant?
Was it not a mere byproduct of the war between the Kingdom of Estiria and the Republic of Beldirn? A pitiful country with no real national strength.
A duke who suddenly declared independence in the middle of war, proclaiming himself a sovereign state—that in itself was riddled with absurdity.
The upper should rule, and the lower should submit, as is proper.
From Lauen's perspective, the Principality of Riviant was base and inferior.
And rulers of such a state could only be equally vulgar.
Still, there was at least one notable talent.
The principality's chief court mage, a 5th-rank Magus… what was the name… ah, yes, Ferd Danians.
He had skill and decisiveness enough, having stabilized the principality by purging impurities while moving between cities, which was commendable.
Though he had not reached the 6th rank, that was hardly a fatal flaw. With proper mind control, he would be sufficiently useful. As a subject for mental conditioning and a vessel for future enhancement experiments, he could serve to further elevate my own power.
Immersing himself in such pleasant thoughts, Lauen forced himself to see merit in coming to such a weak country.
Yes, this was preferable.
For among the minor states marked in the current plan, there were those he found nearly unbearable.
Compared to the Confederation of Barimtiel in the Western Continent or the Free State of Formene in the Central Continent, Riviant was superior.
The Confederation followed the creed of peace, and the Free State upheld republicanism, proclaiming the rights of commoners without a monarch.
How primitive!
Monarchy was the natural order. For it was self-evident. Like an immutable, absolute truth.
Lauen Seedger was a cold-blooded elitist, a man who loathed equality and peace.
If one possessed intellect, then it was impossible to believe you and I were equal. And if one lacked intellect, then only prey and predator existed.
Equality was but an imaginary notion.
Peace, likewise.
Conflict was the foundation of life.
In this sense, Lauen Seedger fervently advocated for the revival of slavery, once deemed natural by all continents, but abolished by most nations under the leadership of the Holy State of Luas.
"The hideout preparations are complete."
"…Very well."
At the report from one of his direct mages, Lauen recalled his objective.
First, brainwash Count Rodenmeyer, then take control of the Marquisate of Ravishrun, and finally, approach the royal family.
One could not target the head directly.
Like climbing a staircase, one must rise from the bottom to gain access to figures of greater power and tighter security.
The conquest of the Principality of Riviant would then serve as the foundation for subjugating the Kingdom of Estiria and the Republic of Beldirn.
Quietly, and surely.
Every national domination plan was structured step by step, connected in sequence.
Clicking tongue… if I moved personally, the entire principality could be subjugated in mere days.
But it could not be helped.
If powerful nations and forces were not to sense the faintest hint of suspicion, such inconvenience had to be endured.
Lauen raised his staff.
A short rod, personally bestowed by the Bohemirn tower master for this mission, capable of remotely controlling a specific mind-control experiment subject.
The puppet he was about to command was an assassin of Grimnax.
"Infiltrate the Rodenmeyer County."
The order was given.
Woosh.
The assassin, whose thoughts were fixed on infiltration, vanished soundlessly.
***
A massive unofficial laboratory of the Bohemirn Tower, conducting enhancement experiments on mages capable of breaking through the limits of their ranks.
There, countless insiders were feverishly focused on human experimentation, driving research into new realms. Among them stood Sandir Paen.
Crack, crack.
Sandir stretched lightly, clenching his left arm. The sound of muscles and bones aligning resounded.
The high-ranking mage in charge of his case spoke.
"The transplant has settled completely. No issues with your body."
Sandir was the first case of a Transcendent receiving a human body transplant. Thus, meticulous inspections had to be performed periodically.
The data accumulated would greatly enhance the quality of future experiments.
Sandir glanced sideways at the departing mage and let out a sneer.
"No issues, you say. Seems your miraculous magic and techniques are not quite omnipotent after all."
Even a highly magical examination could not surpass Sandir's own senses, especially when it came to observing himself.
He brushed his right eye.
Though I have adapted, the transplanted body cannot fully follow Transcendence.
Sandir recalled the battle nearly a hundred years ago against the Master.
An unending chain of weapon strikes that could not be severed no matter how he tried, even the fragments of her broken sword had been deadly blades.
His right eye was gouged out, his left arm cut off below the deltoid. In addition, three fingers of his right hand were severed, and even his leg was slashed, permanently robbing him of mobility.
Severe internal injuries disrupted his homeostasis, accelerating the aging of his body…
Thanks to the Bohemirn Tower's surgery, he had recovered from his permanent injuries and even regained his youth, reclaiming the prime of his body, yet restrictions remained.
My skills and techniques are unaffected, but using Transcendent arts would be quite burdensome.
Still, unless the opponent was a fellow Transcendent, those restrictions hardly mattered. In truth, Sandir did not care in the slightest.
Even without using Transcendent arts, there was no hindrance to pursuing the light.
That swordsman.
He thought back to the challenger he had fought at Daunt, the one who suddenly poured out furious wrath.
That radiant light which transmitted emotion, which stirred empathy…
Sandir licked his lips.
"What a pity, that I cannot meet him right away."
But there was no need to rush.
A powerhouse who had reached the extreme would not simply die in obscurity anywhere.
He could rest assured.
Clack.
He picked up the spear resting on its stand.
First came carrying out the Bohemirn tower master's command. The echo resonating from within him was growing ever stronger.
Sandir Paen departed from the unofficial laboratory.
***
After returning from Balrog's private research chamber, he had stayed in the Ownerless Land, making his preparations.
Settling his mind, passing word to Keirel about the execution of his revenge… two days passed quickly.
Clink, clink.
He donned the jet-black armor and gauntlets, then draped a dark-blue robe over them. He felt the weight of the light sword at his left hip.
His body was in perfect condition.
After checking his state in the full-length mirror, he strode down the corridor of Arein Castle.
Unhurried, strong steps.
The more he advanced, the more the chaos in his mind was sorted out, one by one.
"Hey."
Near the entrance to the outside, Keirel was waiting.
"I may be much weaker than you, but I'm still capable in other ways, you know? As you can see, I'm playing my part here. The Ownerless Land is running well, and it will continue to do so."
Wrapping her tail around her own body, Keirel pushed off the wall. Her cat ears perked, and she reached out her hand.
Thump!
"Don't let your guard down, do it properly. And don't go off the grid again like before."
In other words, don't get caught or killed.
Adrian, struck on the forehead by Keirel, replied.
"When I return, let's visit my master's house together."
"…!"
"I still haven't built a grave."
Keirel bit the inside of her cheek.
Adrian's master───Uncle Raymon, who had saved and cared for her, who had even taught her swordsmanship and spirit, albeit clumsily.
Despite being of a different race.
It was thanks to him that she had come this far.
To her, Uncle Raymon was not merely a savior, but someone closer to family.
"…Yeah."
Wiping away the sudden tears that welled, Keirel nodded. Hearing her answer, Adrian once more stepped forward.
He went outside.
Snow was falling from the sky.
As if winter was desperately struggling not to vanish. The chill brushed his skin, the scenery unique to winter filled his eyes.
Soon, someone from the Black Hour would arrive to guide him to the great hall.
As he waited calmly, Aisha, who had been happily playing in the courtyard under the snow, spotted Adrian and dashed toward him.
"Hello, swordsman!"
The girl he had met in the ruins of Daunt no longer bore the gaunt look she once had.
"Thanks to you, we're eating and sleeping well. My grandmother too! Thank you so much!"
"Say those words to my lord."
"I'll say them to the mage too!"
Aisha beamed.
She was both highly adaptable and remarkably innocent.
Then, Aisha asked.
"But hey, swordsman, do you believe in destiny?"
Destiny?
"I believe destiny exists. My grandmother always said so, and she raised me while peeking into people's fates with fortune-telling and giving advice to match. Though now, I can't divine the future anymore."
Adrian replied offhandedly.
"A pity, to have lost your job."
"That's true… but honestly, I'm not sad."
Aisha glanced around, then covered her mouth with her hand and whispered.
"I like things that aren't destiny, even more than destiny."
"…Why is that?"
"Because it's more beautiful to shape the future with your own strength."
Aisha's eyes sparkled.
"Don't you think so?"
Within that sparkle, Adrian was reflected.