Chapter 112

Chapter 112

After a long silence, Syrkal finally asked, “But why didn’t he tell us about this?”

Syrkal spoke quietly, as if she couldn’t grasp the reason, and the chief, shifting with effort in his seat, shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s like a tiny animal unable to comprehend the ways of a mighty entity; we too are incapable of understanding his motives.”

“What is clear is that he has saved our tribe once more. Therefore, we must repay him with whatever means we possess.”

“What can we possibly do?” Syrkal asked. The chief answered, “Indeed, the sole offering we small beings can make to him is our devotion. That is—”

He gave a radiant smile, “Our duty, as those touched by his favor, and your responsibility as his apostle and the next chief. Can you fulfill this?”

Syrkal was momentarily still at the chief’s question, and in that pause, a memory surfaced. She remembered the dazzling white radiance that had flooded the ashen world when she confronted Basiliora.

Syrkal answered firmly, without delay, “I can.”

***

Alon’s journey from Caslot to Terea, the capital of the Kingdom of Asteria, had taken nearly two weeks, and now he was only a single day from his destination.

“Just one day remains, my lord,” Evan stated.

“So it does,” Alon responded.

“Will you head back to the dukedom immediately after your audience with the queen?”

“Naturally.”

Evan stood near the campsite where Alon had been practicing spells, prompting Alon to let out a soft sigh. “My lord, your magical power appears to be growing stronger recently.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I can see it. You’ve been casting the same spell repeatedly over these two weeks.”

Alon gazed at the scorched area where he had just been practicing. ‘He’s right, it does feel stronger.’

Observing the substantial crater left in the earth, Alon’s face showed curiosity. Even though he used magic frequently for exploration, a sudden surge in its potency was illogical, as his studies were centered on refinement, not raw power.

As he pondered further, a sudden idea occurred to him. ‘Is it possible my level has risen without any noticeable indication?’

The idea that his magic had grown due to a level increase seemed reasonable. Still, Alon grew more perplexed, as he couldn’t identify the source of this supposed level gain.

‘I can’t recall any major occurrences that would warrant a level increase.’

Level stems from ‘ongoing devotion,’ meaning it isn’t earned through isolated acts of rescue using magic, but through persistent, unwavering belief.

‘Where could this devotion be coming from?’

Preoccupied with this mystery, Alon thought of Deus’s recent actions, which leaned more toward inspiring faith than revealing truth. But he quickly brushed the notion aside. ‘Surely that couldn’t generate real faith.’

After a brief period of confusion, he sighed and set the matter aside, since ‘level’ was not an immediate concern.

‘The actual problem is this.’

Alon looked down at the red ring adorned with a serpent design on his finger. He carefully channeled magic into it. However, the ring, which was meant to bind Basiliora and react to magic, gave no response.

‘This isn’t right.’

Alon’s face remained neutral, but inwardly he was uneasy. Under normal circumstances, the target bound by the Kalguneas Pact Ring should materialize when magic is infused, though it was possible that his limited magical energy might only allow a spectral form to appear. Even that, however, was not a serious problem.

There existed a method to summon the being without being limited by magical strength. Alon’s current worry was whether Basiliora could be summoned without complication, but strangely, no matter how much power he fed into the ring, the summoning failed to happen.

“To be more accurate, it feels as though it is on the verge of happening, but then it doesn’t.”

Clearly, a significant amount of his magic was being consumed, and there was a flicker where the magical circle almost formed a spirit, indicating the summoning was imminent.

‘Is it choosing not to appear?’

A logical doubt formed, and he decided, ‘It seems I’ll have to consult Heinkel.’

He recalled the ring’s former owner, a great mage who had utilized it more skillfully than anyone.

“Evan.”

“What is it, my lord?”

“When is the magic conference scheduled to take place?”

“Ah, I’m not completely certain… but if it follows the usual pattern, it should be in approximately a month.”

That was not a brief wait. Resolving to seek Liyan’s assistance once again, Alon then turned his attention to the spirit egg.

‘It’s been almost two weeks of feeding it magic, and still no change.’

Throughout the two-week journey to Asteria, even after consuming potions, the spirit egg displayed no reaction.

‘Perhaps it’s because my magic reserves are so pitifully low… Maybe the Queen will have some insight.’

It was Siyan who had originally directed him to the ruins of Malacca, and this thought crossed his mind as he did so.

“My lord, have a sweet potato. It’s colder here than in the jungle, so they’re especially delicious.”

“Is that so?”

Drawn in by the sweet potatoes, Alon decided, ‘I’ll learn the answers tomorrow.’

He then sat beside Evan and took a bite of the perfectly roasted sweet potato.

“It’s good.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I had brought some of that Stormvi meat as well.”

“I believe the sweet potatoes are many times better.”

The sweet potatoes were a perfect treat for an autumn night.

And on the following evening.

“My lord, we’re here.”

“Good.”

Now viewing the familiar skyline of Terea in the distance, Alon said, “We’ll proceed directly to the castle.”

“Understood.”

They started toward where Cretania Siyan awaited, and it wasn’t long before, “Oh, you’re here?”

In his office, the ruler of Asteria greeted him with an expression as unhurried as ever.

***

Deus Maccalian’s sister, Sili Maccalian, was in exceptionally high spirits today. Two reasons contributed to her good mood: her brother, Deus Maccalian, was returning from a trip today, meaning they could share a meal together, and Sili Maccalian, as a student of magic, had achieved the first rank today.

“Hehe~”

She couldn’t suppress a giggle. She recalled the words her mentor had surprised her with over the past year: “You have a gift.”

To have talent. That statement, coming from a magic instructor who rarely gave praise, was immensely gratifying to Sili. After all, her only family, Deus Maccalian, possessed a brilliant gift for the sword.

Though she had never acted out of envy, she had certainly felt it, which made her current validation as a mage all the more sweet. She had particularly excelled in four of the eight elemental arts—fire, ice, lightning, and wind.

‘I’m going to tell my brother all about it…!’

Sili eagerly anticipated the dinner with Deus. He would be the most delighted to hear her news, as he was the one who had originally encouraged her to study magic.

‘It must be because of him that my brother recommended I learn magic.’

Sili understood why he was so fascinated by magic. It was impossible not to know. Whenever they were together and he began speaking about that person, a dinner that should have lasted half an hour would stretch late into the night. Furthermore, Sili was aware that Deus sometimes secretly tried to mimic Marquis Palatio’s magical techniques.

‘I’m going to amaze him tonight…!’

Full of anticipation, she looked forward to the evening meal.

When Sili finally met Deus that evening, she announced,

“Brother, I’ve become a mage.”

“Is that true?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Just as expected, a soft smile appeared on Deus’s face, and she smiled back at him. “I’m so proud of you; I always believed you could do it.”

Thrilled by Deus’s genuinely pleased reaction, Sili began excitedly relaying her conversation with her mentor. “So, anyway, I’m thinking of specializing in the fire and wind elements…!”

Deus nodded along, giving his sister an affectionate look. Just as an enthusiastic Sili was about to continue, Deus cut in,

“Hold on.”

“Because my mentor said the fire element is the easiest to grasp—”

“What?” She stopped, sensing a shift.

“…Brother?”

Only a moment before, Deus had been smiling warmly, but now his face had become very stern and solemn.

Bewildered by the sudden shift, Sili faltered, but then Deus spoke. “Sili, as you are aware, our Maccalian line is known for inheriting the elements of lightning and ice.”

“…Uh… what?”

She was even more confused.

It was a natural reaction. To her knowledge, there had never been a mage in the Maccalian family, and their parents had been simple woodcutters and gatherers of herbs.

Nevertheless, Deus continued, “Sili, this is a serious matter. We must be certain. Decide now, will it be fire and wind, or ice and lightning?”

Deus interrupted her with a grave expression, as if he truly believed the Maccalian lineage had a historical mastery over ice and lightning magic.

Sili looked at Deus, whose face was more serious than she had ever seen it. Hesitantly, she began, “It seems that fire and wind are—”

“Ice, lightning.”

“…”

“Ice, lightning.”

After a short silence, she cautiously tested, “Uh… ice, lightning?”

Trying to appease her brother, she finally said the words he wanted to hear. Deus then nodded several times, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“…”

“The Maccalian lineage is definitely known for that.”

‘…The Maccalian lineage… there’s no such tradition…’

Though the thought flashed through Sili’s mind, she decided against saying it aloud.

…It was a very peculiar evening.