Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Kellam, a mage of the Green Tower, was still trying to comprehend the previous day’s events, having seen Penia—once infamous as the Blue Tower’s “rogue”—act as meekly as a lamb before Count Palatio.

Penia had even offered an apology to Milan, who was both Kellam’s apprentice and a fellow wizard.

Yet Kellam, a practitioner of the 5th tier, had held reservations about Count Palatio from the start.

In particular, he questioned the count’s true power.

To be sure, Kellam had not yet advanced to the 6th tier, where the “Eye” awakens and allows one to perceive another’s strength in its entirety with a single look.

Even so, his senses at the 5th tier were acute enough to detect a person’s innate magical energy.

And from Kellam’s perspective, Count Palatio’s magical power seemed far too faint.

Kellam understood that knowledge was paramount for wizards—a vast reservoir of mana meant little without the understanding to shape it.

However, no matter how profound one’s knowledge, if their inherent magical power was too limited, wielding high-level magic would be impossible.

This naturally led Kellam to wonder.

Could the tales of the count’s might be nothing but exaggeration, crafted by the man himself to build his own legend?

Kellam had nearly set his doubts aside after observing Penia’s sudden shift in demeanor, but today, within the arena, his suspicions were reignited.

It was unmistakable.

The scale of Count Palatio’s magical energy was far too modest to justify the grand rumors surrounding him.

And Kellam was not alone in his skepticism.

“Hmm, no matter how I assess him, I cannot sense any great power. What is your opinion?”

“I share your sentiment. His mana reserve is… far too scant for someone of a high tier.”

“Tch, so it was all a fabrication. It seems he invented it all to enhance his standing.”

“A shame. His reputation will be utterly ruined once this friendly match reveals the truth.”

Just as Kellam had suspected, the other professors of the 5th tier, gathered alongside him, voiced their own uncertainties after sensing Count Palatio’s magic.

But before the arena could be consumed by a frozen wilderness, every wizard fell silent.

Even the lower-tier mages, who had been observing with keen interest, grew quiet.

Conversely, the 5th-tier wizards who had been casting doubtful looks at Alon now stood stunned, their mouths agape as they watched the scene unfold.

The emotions stirring within the wizards, however, were not uniform.

The lower-tier wizards gazed upon Alon’s magic with awe and veneration, while the higher-tier wizards were completely astounded.

It had happened in a flash, but they recognized precisely what Alon had accomplished.

“Composite magic…! And he combined more than three spells… simultaneously!”

Kellam’s jaw went slack.

Certainly, composite magic was a feat that he, and any other 5th-tier wizard present, could perform.

However, to execute three or more spells at once without a single flaw was something none could confidently guarantee.

“How in the world did he manage it?”

By this point, the 5th-tier wizards had entirely dismissed their earlier notion that Count Palatio’s magic was insignificant.

Instead, their minds were flooded with the same curiosity and respect for Alon that had originally driven their own ascents to the 5th tier.

And just as every gaze was locked upon the arena:

“Crystal.”

Alon uttered the word softly, forming a hand seal.

In that instant—

Crack—!

Dozens of small spheres, each no larger than a marble, began to materialize across the entire arena.

“Rotation.”

The spheres, suspended in mid-air, started a slow, clockwise turn.

Just as the wizards were puzzling over the purpose of these spinning orbs—

“Eek!”

Baruch, jolted from his stupor by Alon’s magic, suddenly sprang into action, hurriedly preparing his own spell.

He realized that if he did not act now, he would not only fail to expand his influence but might also suffer a humiliating defeat, so he rushed his incantation.

Yet the other wizards either looked on in confusion or frowned at the spell Baruch was preparing.

“That’s—”

…Ke-Malan?

This was understandable, as the spell Baruch was readying was one of the Violet Tower’s primary offensive magics, a blatant killing spell not ordinarily employed in a friendly match.

However, Baruch never had the chance to unleash his spell.

Crack—!

In the very next moment, Baruch was transformed into a statue of ice.

All the wizards stared vacantly, replaying the events in their minds.

In the exact instant Baruch was preparing his spell, one of the rotating spheres abruptly burst, freezing him solid.

And with that—

“…Uh, um… The winner of this friendly match is Alon Palatio…!”

The referee wizard announced, his voice tinged with bewilderment.

***

“That was truly astounding.”

“Incidentally, what was that hand seal you used? Could it be part of an ancient spell?”

“You employed composite magic, but how exactly did you structure the arrangement?”

Immediately after the friendly match concluded, Alon, who had ascended to the stands leaving a bewildered Baruch behind, found himself besieged by questions from the wizards.

Naturally, no wizard dared to break the unwritten rule against inquiring about another’s independent magic, but the barrage of questions led Alon to a surprising realization.

Through their conversation, he came to understand that the wizards had no knowledge whatsoever of the seals or phrases he utilized.

‘…How curious.’

Alon had been aware that the seals and phrases he used were artifacts from a long-lost age.

Still, he had not expected there to be a complete absence of information about them, which made the discovery all the more intriguing.

As he absorbed this new understanding while speaking with the wizards, Alon’s attention was caught by their reaction to his words.

“…Wait, what did you say? 3rd tier?”

“…Did you just say 3rd tier?”

“There’s no need for such modesty, claiming to be at the 3rd tier.”

“That’s simply impossible.”

The wizards treated Alon’s admission of his tier as a humorous understatement.

Leaving the perplexed wizards behind, Alon exited the arena with a quiet sigh, though the moment was brief.

He began to fiddle with the ring on his left index finger, an artifact from the Psychedelia game known as “Memory of the Black Eye(Ho Gaftu),” a satisfied expression on his face.

‘As expected, it’s quite useful.’

The ability of “Memory of the Black Eye” was straightforward.

It permitted the user to store one of their spells and activate it later with a slight amplification of power.

In essence, it functioned like an enhanced memory-keeper spell, preserving a spell for future use with added strength, and for Alon, it was exceptionally efficient.

Due to the restriction he labored under, Alon could only cast five spells, and the severe limitation of having to expend one of those spells was a significant drawback.

After using that spell, he would be left with only two spells at his disposal.

But by utilizing “Memory of the Black Eye,” Alon could now employ all five of his spells in combat situations.

‘And the spell amplification is quite potent as well.’

He recalled that when he had invoked a spell earlier, the effect of the bitter cold felt at least twice as powerful as usual, then swiftly redirected his thoughts.

‘It seems the [Glory of the Snowy Mountains] is quite effective.’

Reflecting on the spell he had just used, which was based on the phrase “Glory of the Snowy Mountains,” Alon could not help but ponder once more the mysterious “entity.”

When “it” had first conveyed that phrase to him, Alon had not fully comprehended its significance.

At that time, the phrases in his mind were understood merely as instruments to enhance his magic, without deeper insight.

However, after employing the spell derived from “Glory of the Snowy Mountains” several times since his return from the desert, he had recently begun to grasp the general effect of that phrase.

‘When the manifestation of the materialized magic concludes, it freezes the surrounding air.’

Unlike twisting or distorting the nature of the magic itself, this effect seemed to touch upon a more fundamental law, and Alon had used this understanding to craft his spell today.

‘Is this what ‘it’ was referring to?’

He remembered being told that “a phrase is like a key that can open certain doors to the rules designated in this world.”

…He found this increasingly fascinating.

The more Alon learned about phrases and words, the more rapidly his magic advanced, fueling his ever-growing curiosity. Glancing outside the tower, he took in the view.

The sun was just now perched on the mountainside, painting the sky with the hues of sunset.

‘It’s about time, I suppose.’

As Alon watched the slowly descending sun, he recalled the other item he needed to retrieve from the central tower today and turned to depart.

***

The first night of the society.

“That Count?”

“What is it?”

“Are you truly… a 3rd-tier wizard?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Truly?”

“Yes.”

“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

Liyan, who seemed entirely unconvinced by Alon’s words, departed with a skeptical expression.

“Count… Count?”

“Penia?”

“I know for a fact that you’re a 3rd-tier wizard.”

“…Is that so?”

“Yes, I absolutely know that you’re a 3rd-tier wizard… absolutely, without a doubt!”

“…?”

After Penia emphasized Alon’s tier three times and took her leave, Alon, noticing the late hour, made his way to the library, confirming that the moon was already high in the sky.

Wooooom~!

With a low, resonant hum, he arrived once more at the empty, silent library.

The eerie atmosphere was heightened by the absence of lights, with only the blue moon in the sky casting its glow over the library.

As he stepped inside, a deep voice echoed in his ears:

[It seems someone has solved my riddle at precisely the appointed time.]

The voice’s solemn resonance caused Alon to shiver involuntarily.

It was not that he detected any specific threat—merely an instinctual tremor.

Like how the weak naturally tremble before the strong, simply hearing the voice evoked a primal fear from the depths of his being.

“Yes.”

Alon answered, forcibly suppressing his rising dread.

After all, the item he needed could only be acquired by meeting her.

And then—

[Oh, impressive. Despite hearing my voice, you did not panic. You’ve held your ground.]

As blue magical energy began to coalesce before Alon, slowly taking shape, he felt sweat forming on his palms.

He knew exactly who was about to appear before him.

‘The first human to reach the 8th tier after the Age of Forgotten Gods.’

‘A wizard whom every magician revered and admired during her lifetime, known as the “First Chalice.”‘

And to the beings who had once plunged the world into chaos, she was known as the “Eternal Terror,” a slayer both feared and worshipped.

“…The Archmage Heinkel.”

As Alon spoke her name, the blue magical form solidified with increasing speed.

Before him stood a woman wearing a pure white pointed hat, her blue eyes visible beneath its brim, a relaxed smile gracing her face.

To wizards, she was the “First Chalice.”

To the entities that had once brought chaos to the world, she was the “Eternal Terror.”

Alon swallowed nervously behind his calm facade.

While Heinkel was not an enemy, if he made even a slight error in his responses, he might provoke her infamous temper, which could result in his immediate demise.

Thus, Alon mentally rehearsed the topics he must absolutely avoid mentioning in her presence.

The first words the archmage, who exuded an overwhelming aura merely by appearing with her relaxed smile, spoke as she gazed at Alon were:

[Wha…!?]

A sound of pure terror, as if she had witnessed something horrifying.

“…??”

A question formed in Alon’s mind.