Chapter 16

Chapter 16

The social standing of a wizard on this continent possesses a uniquely stratified nature.

As is common in numerous realms of fantasy, spellcasters are typically held in high esteem, yet when a wizard is affiliated with a “Tower,” their position can ascend to a level equivalent to that of the aristocracy.

This elevation stems not solely from the disparity in ability between Tower wizards and their independent counterparts, but more fundamentally from the influence of the Tower as an institution.

Only six Towers exist in the world, and they hold a complete monopoly on the manufacture of various goods essential to the United Kingdom, including those required by its high-ranking nobles.

Effectively, the fusion of a wizard’s martial capabilities and the exclusive production of indispensable resources raises the Tower’s influence to a form of sovereign power.

Furthermore, the authority wielded by the Vice Tower Master, who acts as the deputy leader of such a Tower, is reputed to be immense.

Alon was fully aware of all these facts.

“Isn’t this reception somewhat excessive?”

Alon regarded the Vice Tower Master with an internal sense of amusement, though his face betrayed no emotion.

She was leaning on one hand, her demeanor suggesting a profound annoyance with the world, while the other hand held a pen. A blue cloak, the emblem of the Blue Tower, was draped over her shoulders, and her long blue hair fell freely to her waist.

Her name was Penia Crysinne.

In Psychedelia, she featured briefly in the main narrative as a wizard who, at the remarkably young age of 22, had achieved the 7th Rank—a testament to an absurd level of innate talent.

She was also a formidable wizard who possessed an Origin.

However, at this point in time, prior to the start of the original story, she had not yet ascended to the position of Tower Master and appeared to be at the 6th Rank.

“…As I stated before our meeting, I have come to discuss the Shimon.”
“What of it?”
Alon continued speaking as Penia wrestled with a pile of documents without granting him so much as a glance.
“I can eliminate the Shimon.”
At Alon’s declaration, Penia’s gaze abruptly shifted, her eyes locking onto his face with a hysterical intensity.
A flicker of curiosity showed in her expression.
But almost immediately, her face twisted into one of open disappointment and she clicked her tongue.
“Well, if you’re finished, you may leave.”
“…I have not received your answer.”
“What answer?”
“I said I could get rid of the Shimon.”
“Ha.”
Hearing Alon’s repeated claim, Penia looked at him with a derisive smile.
“Pardon me. Who did you say you were again?”
“Count Palatio, Alon.”
“So, our Count Palatio claims he can eliminate the Shimon?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I see~ Our Count Palatio can get rid of the Shimon, is that it?”
“…Why are you behaving this way?”
Alon questioned her blatant sarcasm.
“Do you believe you are the first person to say that? Do you think you are the only one who has come here seeking the treasure offered for destroying the Shimon? Hmm?”
Watching Penia shake her head as if utterly exasperated, Alon spoke again.
“I am not lying. If you guide me to the Shimon, I will demonstrate it immediately.”
“How many individuals do you suppose have stood before me and said those very words?”
“I can absolutely destroy it.”
Alon’s insistence caused Penia to suddenly drop her pen and openly scowl, releasing her magical power in a sudden, uncontrolled surge.

*Snap!*

This was not the casting of a spell.
It was merely the raw emission of magical energy.
The waveform, chaotically scattered by her emotional state, instantly began to cause disturbances throughout the office.
The entire room shuddered as if struck by an earthquake, and scrolls and parchments tumbled from the shelves.

In the midst of this chaos.
“Excuse me.”
“It’s becoming clear that you only became a Count because a bunch of worthless people conveniently died, and now you’re desperate for a maneuver to stabilize your position, but you shouldn’t be causing disturbances here, correct?”
As Penia lowered her voice, laced with hysteria, Alon realized two things anew.
The first was that, despite appearing completely consumed by her work, she was surprisingly well-informed about external affairs.
Indeed, just as she implied, since inheriting the title of Count, he had lived quietly without involving himself in the underworld, and rumors about him had begun to spread.
The other realization was that the anger which had flared within him, provoked by her earlier dismissive treatment, had now strangely subsided, as if cured.

‘She’s terrifying.’
Alon understood that, even without having reached the 7th Rank, Penia was clearly a superhuman who had transcended ordinary limits, as evidenced by the bizarre phenomena she could create with a mere release of magical energy.

‘I shouldn’t test her patience, or I might end up broken in two.’
Despite being a 2nd Rank wizard himself, Alon fully comprehended that if Penia decided to employ her magic offensively, his life would be in grave danger, so he spoke.
“If you do not trust me, I will wager my entire fortune.”
“What?”
Even while feeling fear, Alon’s expression remained as impassive as ever.
“I am serious. If I fail to eliminate the Shimon, I will donate my entire family fortune to the Blue Tower. No, since this is a private arrangement, I will transfer it all to you personally.”
“…What nonsense.”
“Naturally, you need not stake anything. I alone will take this risk, and I am prepared to swear a binding oath if required.”
“…”
Penia frowned at Alon’s words, but he continued with the same stoic expression.
“This appears to be a rather favorable arrangement for you, as you would only be investing a small amount of time. What is your opinion?”
After a brief silence, Penia responded.
“Draft a contract.”

***

Penia Crysinne.
A prodigy who reached the 6th Rank at the mere age of 21, and the current Vice Tower Master of the Blue Tower, serving under her master, the Tower Master.
She led Alon downward into the underground, halting before the door behind which the Shimon was contained.
“It is here. Once you open this door, the Shimon will be inside.”
Without hesitation, Alon moved to grasp the door handle at her words.
“Remember, we have already drafted the contract, so I will not be lenient. If you fail, the entire wealth of the Palatio family will belong to me. Understood?”
Despite Penia’s warning, Alon calmly turned his head to look at her.
His emotionless eyes, which revealed nothing, glanced in her direction as he spoke.
“There is no possibility of that occurring.”

*Creak—*

With those words, he pulled the door open without hesitation and stepped through. As Penia watched his retreating back, she recalled the rumors surrounding him.
He was once known as the shadowy figure behind the Palatio family, who had eliminated all other heirs to claim the title of Count.
But over the last three years, public perception had shifted considerably.
Now, most believed it was all mere coincidence, that he was simply a fortunate fool who had become a Count because the other heirs had perished.
Of course, a minority still suspected he had reasons for his lack of public activity, but after meeting him face-to-face, Penia leaned toward the latter interpretation of the rumors.

‘Judging by his demeanor, he might appear first-rate, but it was already over the moment he decided to confront the Shimon looking like that.’
Penia had also noted that Alon’s aura was unusual.
His inorganic eyes.
A face so utterly devoid of emotion it was difficult to believe he was human.
For a moment, even she had been subdued by his presence, but it was merely an aura. Having assessed his actual talent, Penia could not help but scoff.
He possessed some talent, but it was only marginally superior to the average.
His mana core was exceptionally small, and his rank, at best, was barely at the 2nd Rank.
He did not even possess the “Eyes,” which are a fundamental requirement for reaching the 6th Rank.
The Count of Palatio was astonishingly lacking in significant magical aptitude.
He lacked the “Eyes,” a necessary trait for a high-ranking wizard, and he did not have a vast reservoir of mana.
His magical rank was only the 2nd Rank, and while his sensory perception was adequate, that was the extent of his notable abilities.
Sensing ability, among the many talents a wizard must possess, is not considered particularly high-ranking.
Ultimately, the very fact that he had come here so confidently, claiming he could eliminate the Shimon with such mediocre talent, only confirmed for Penia that the rumors casting him as a lucky fool were likely accurate.
She made a pitying expression as she observed him, then shifted her gaze to the ‘rift’ glowing with a purple light at the room’s center.
The rift, which wizards term the Shimon (Time Gate), is literally connected to some unknown subspace, making it an exceptionally troublesome phenomenon.
Shimon, which primarily manifest in areas of heavy magical usage, inflict considerable damage on their surroundings.
For instance, beings from other dimensions might cross over through the rift, or it might abruptly absorb all ambient magical energy, creating a mana vacuum in the vicinity.
‘I heard they attempted various methods to erase the Shimon in the early days because of this.’
To Penia’s knowledge, no wizard had ever succeeded in erasing a Shimon.
‘If research on Shimon had persisted for a longer period, a method to eliminate it might eventually have been discovered.’
But for the present, no such method existed.
Primarily, even when a Shimon appeared suddenly, it would typically vanish on its own after approximately one to three months, leaving behind a relic.
Although the principle behind this phenomenon remained unknown, wizards saw little reason to expend time and resources researching a problem that resolved itself.
…However, in the case of this particular Shimon within the Blue Tower, the anomaly which was predicted to disappear within months had instead been plaguing the tower’s basement for over two years, showing no signs of fading.
Penia, lost in these reflections, watched Alon, who had approached the Shimon and remained motionless.
Despite the passage of time, Alon did not move.
Just as Penia clicked her tongue and prepared to speak—

*Tap—*

Alon formed a hand seal.
“? “
Penia felt a mild curiosity as she watched him raise his hand to form the Wisdom Fist Seal.
He was using his own hand as a medium instead of a staff, employing a technique deemed ‘primitive’ even in ancient magical texts—methods so rarely studied they were largely ignored by academic circles.
“Just come out.”
However, Penia was only slightly intrigued; she had no intention of granting Alon more time.
She never for a moment believed that someone utilizing such an antiquated method from an obscure text could possibly close the Shimon.
But—

The moment he softly uttered an incantation—
“Ah, just come ou—”
Penia’s irritated command halted mid-sentence.
No, not just her words.
Everything stopped.
Her partially opened mouth.
Her furrowed, irritated eyes.
Her body.
Even her breath.
Everything ceased.
And then—
She saw it.
The entity that emerged before the Count.

*Screeech—*

Before Penia’s intensely focused gaze, something that was once pure black emitted an unpleasant sound as it opened its ‘eyes.’
She realized it was an eyeball.
An eyeball marked with two red rings.
It simply stared at her.
If it had ended there, it would have been manageable.
But—
Penia’s ‘Eyes,’ the talent required to advance beyond the 6th Rank, instinctively discerned the fundamental nature of what stood before her.
She did not know what it was.
But she understood.
This instinctual knowledge allowed Penia to grasp a single, critical piece of information.
That entity was a concept so elementary it could be defined by a single word.
It was—
“Ghh—!”
The moment she began to comprehend it, Penia violently halted her own train of thought.
Her magic, which had stilled even her breathing, moved on instinct to sever her cognition.
Because she knew.
That thing standing before the Count was something she must never, ever understand.
To comprehend it would be akin to drinking from a poisoned chalice that guaranteed her utter destruction.
And so, at the very instant she stopped her thoughts, just barely remembering to breathe—

*Heh—*

The eyeball, which had been staring at her, now smiled.
Then, with a black hand that had formed at some point, it gently raised its index and middle fingers to its own lips.
An absolute command for silence.
Understanding this as Alon’s unspoken demand, Penia, now filled with a sudden, overwhelming fear, blinked her eyes. As the eyeball vanished, the suspended magic ended.
The space where the purple rift had been was now calm, and Alon released a soft sigh.
“It is done.”
For Alon, who had closed the Shimon countless times in the game and knew the precise method, destroying it was not particularly challenging.
After all, the Shimon was not closed with conventional magic, but with a special—
“I—I swear I will not speak of this to anyone.”
“…? Well, I appreciate that, but there is no need to—”
“I—I mean it, I swear, I will not utter a word. I am actually very good at keeping secrets.”
Despite suddenly breathing heavily, her eyes even welling with tears as she nodded fervently and spoke in an excessively formal tone, Alon—
“…?”
‘Why is she suddenly acting like this…?’
—could only tilt his head in bewilderment.