Chapter 71

Chapter 71
A severe cold permeated the arena, and blue electrical arcs snapped and hissed through the atmosphere. To every observer, the sorcery on display was unmistakably unnatural.

“Disintegrate.”

Following Alon’s utterance, the violent sparks morphed into shimmering azure motes, flying out in every direction. Even under the midday sun, the particles shone with the intense brightness of fireflies.

And then,

“Dissolve.”

Where a moment before his form had been whole, it now flickered unsteadily, a distorted illusion despite his stillness.

“I—”

Philcion had already closed the distance to Alon. Propelling himself forward on jets of scorching flame, Philcion tightened his grip on his lowered sword, targeting Alon’s wavering silhouette.

‘An unforeseen development, but acceptable!’

While startled that Alon had employed a magic utterly different from the expected ice spells, Philcion decided to view this as a chance. During this moment of spell formation, his opponent was vulnerable.

‘A more glorious victory would have been preferable, but—’

With Alon resorting to this unfamiliar magic, his own chances of winning had drastically fallen.

‘I will finish this immediately.’

Just as Philcion unhesitatingly lifted his sword to deliver the strike,

“Cycle of All Things.”

Alon’s voice echoed.

In that transient instant, Alon’s impassive face was locked directly onto his. His body, fingers woven into a seal, had abruptly—

CRACKLE!!!!

“Thunder God Form.”

He became pure, azure lightning.

And Philcion’s chain of thought shattered.

***

BOOM—!!

Accompanied by a deafening roar, Philcion’s form was hurled into the arena wall, scorching trails of lightning etched across the ground in his wake.

CRACKLE—

It all occurred in a fleeting second, or perhaps even less, too rapid for anyone to fully comprehend what had unfolded. The audience could only perceive two outcomes.

One was Philcion’s body embedded in the arena wall.

The other was—

CRACKLE!

Alon, now sheathed entirely in lightning—or more accurately, having become lightning itself, radiating a blue nimbus.

CRACK!

With every shift of his black cloak, electricity spider-webbed outwards.

Tsk—

As the cloak’s edges slowly returned to their dark color, the lightning receded, reshaping into the figure of Count Alon Palatio. The spectators, who had watched the entire sequence as if seeing a color wash away, were struck dumb.

[The… the winner is—Alon Palatio!!]

After a stunned delay, the announcer found his voice, and the crowd exploded into roaring applause, leaping up with such fervor the arena itself seemed to tremble. Standing amidst the cacophony of cheers and wild ovation, Alon remained still.

‘Dammit.’

Barely processing the crowd’s reaction, he cursed inwardly, his face contorting as blood began to seep from his arm beneath the sleeve.

“I almost died.”

This was not an exaggeration.

He had genuinely come close to death from the magic he had just performed.

His mana was entirely exhausted, but that was not the cause of his near-demise.

The true reason was the spell he had cast—

‘Damn.’

—No, the danger was inherent in the spell’s very design.

Unlike previous experiences, Alon instantly comprehended the principles of the magic the moment he invoked it.

No, he was *forced* to comprehend them.

Had he failed, he would not be standing here.

The moment the spell concluded, he could have been reduced to molecules, erased from existence.

‘To warp the natural order and convert one’s body into mana… Why does such a deranged spell exist?’

The spell he used, “Array of Thunder,” literally transmuted his physical form into mana possessing the properties of electricity.

The subsequent phrases were all pre-arranged electrical incantations—

The procedure was to merge, or more precisely, to enchant them together.

Finally, the “Thunder God Form” was the magic that materialized the fused spell array.

In essence, the “Magnetic Manifestation” that Sparrow taught him was, quite literally, a phenomenal spell that turned the caster into lightning.

But the reason Alon judged the spell to be insane was its sheer complexity.

The “Thunder God Form” temporarily converted the body into lightning, permitting the caster to harness its properties directly.

However, the problem was that the chaotic mana pattern of lightning, fused with Alon’s body, could easily unravel with the slightest miscue.

Simply put, had Alon lacked the innate talent to control the mana array, he might have been nothing more than a spectacular firework display in the arena moments ago.

…

‘…The pain is excruciating.’

Even after frantically reconstructing his body’s array in little over a second, there were evidently areas he had missed, as the blood flowing beneath his sleeve continued to increase.

‘Sparrow, did you teach me this just to torment me?’

He suddenly remembered Sparrow’s staff, which Evan had been holding while they watched the match together.

‘I should return for now.’

Leaving the thunderous cheers behind, Alon walked back to the waiting room.

“…”

“Count.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing… I simply don’t think I can be surprised by anything you do anymore.”

Evan stared at him with a bewildered look, while—

[W-what in the… How… How did you accomplish that?]

Sparrow’s staff, usually a source of caustic comments, vibrated with incredulity, its voice quavering.

A sense of deep satisfaction welled up behind Alon’s stoic expression.

“It appears the bet is mine.”

***

A day later,

Alon’s new status as an A-rank fighter, achieved in under a week, circulated swiftly throughout the entire Colony.

Consequently, discussions about Alon far outnumbered those concerning any other combatant.

Yet, the man who was the subject of these rumors, Alon, was—

“To the royal castle now, Master!”

Tranquilly making his way to the Colony’s royal castle alongside Seolrang.

The reason was that attaining A-rank granted him permission to enter the royal treasury.

‘Under normal circumstances, gaining access to the treasury would have taken at least a week.’

Alon was able to act this quickly due to Seolrang’s influence.

‘Even knowing Baba Yaga’s power is substantial, I didn’t anticipate its reach extending to the royal family.’

As Alon’s carriage moved past an immense castle wall, he reflected on Seolrang’s capabilities.

[Hey,]

Sparrow communicated directly into his mind. Alon responded not with words, but by directing mana into the staff as previously instructed.

‘Have you forgotten our wager?’

[N-No!]

Sparrow’s voice became flustered, but then it changed—

[….Um, Count, might I ask you something?]

Sparrow’s tone was now meek and trembling, surprisingly courteous and polished compared to his demeanor just days prior.

“What is it?”

[Well, as I proposed yesterday, would you be willing to form a contract with me and inherit my legacy?]

“As I stated yesterday, I am still thinking it over.”

[No! This is truly a magnificent opportunity!]

“Hmm.”

[….is it not?]

Flustered, Sparrow hurriedly appended a respectful honorific.

[You, uh, Count—no, My Lord—must understand from utilizing my principles that they are exceptionally potent. If you simply refine them over a few generations, you will be overwhelming other wizards thirty times over, I assure you!]

Ever since Alon utilized Sparrow’s laws without having inherited his spirit, Sparrow, acting on the suggestion from the Yongsin race, had been persistently begging him to become his successor.

‘A successor, is it.’

Truthfully, from Alon’s perspective of needing to learn magic, accepting this staff as his instructor wasn’t an unfavorable prospect.

Merely knowing its phrases and incantations seemed to grant a substantial depth of magical understanding.

Even so, Alon avoided giving a definitive answer, and the reason lay in the specific contract Sparrow was proposing.

Sparrow termed it a master-disciple contract, but Alon saw no need to inscribe a magical seal for a pact he did not fully comprehend.

‘In any case, I am meeting him tomorrow, so I can inquire and decide then.’

With that thought, Alon set aside Sparrow’s proposal for the moment.

[Please, give it serious reconsideration, just one more time.]

“Hmm. According to your own words, isn’t it impossible for someone who hasn’t inherited your spirit to become your successor?”

[No, that was truly something I was ignorant of at the time! I apologize!]

“An apology is unnecessary. Regardless, finding a successor would have been difficult for you, given that you are an idiot.”

[… You truly do hold onto grievances, don’t you…]

“What was that?”

[Ah, nothing, I meant to say…]

Because of the bet he had lost, Sparrow was compelled to speak with deference. He continued to desperately implore Alon to become his successor until Alon finally left the staff behind in the carriage to enter the royal castle.

But all Sparrow had learned by that point was that Alon’s resentment ran profoundly deep.

[…Hah. I should not have allowed my temper to control me…]

Alone in the carriage, Sparrow muttered gloomily.

It was his own deserved retribution.

***

The Colony’s royal castle possessed an ambiance somewhat distinct from the royal castles of other nations known to Alon.

Contrary to the conventional image of a royal castle, the interior felt rugged and unrefined.

Sculptures and marble were absent, making the space seem somewhat austere.

Yet, despite this, Alon did not consider it “lesser” because—

“…”

The rough walls were lavishly decorated with gold and jewels.

Walking down a seemingly endless corridor lined with treasures, Alon finally reached the royal throne room with Seolrang.

He knelt and paid his respects to the King of the Colony, who gazed down upon him.

“The warrior greets the King of the Colony.”

Ordinarily, introducing himself as a noble would have been proper, but he had come here for the treasury, so he identified himself as a warrior.

“Raise your head.”

Hearing the grave voice, Alon lifted his head to see the king’s face.

He was a sturdy middle-aged man with strong features, radiating authority and self-assurance.

“Count Palatio, I found your match to be most entertaining. Truly remarkable!”

The Colony’s king, Carmaxes III, laughed robustly as he went on.

“I understand you wish to enter the treasury. Do you seek something specific?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Carmaxes nodded several times before stating:

“Then you may take it. The royal family of the Colony opens the treasury to all who have demonstrated their worth.”

“Thank you for your generosity.”

“However, I have one additional offer for you. What is your opinion?”

“A proposal, Your Majesty?”

“Yes.”

He spoke in a casual tone.

“I have a daughter.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“What is your view?”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Alon’s mind went blank.

Silence fell.

But only for a moment.

“Naturally, the choice to accept this gift is yours, so consider it at your leisure.”

Carmaxes maintained his smile.

“Maxim, escort him to the treasury.”

He then directed the knight beside him.

As Carmaxes watched Alon depart, he released a quiet sigh.

“…Hm? Baba Yaga, are you not accompanying him?”

Noticing that Seolrang, who had been beside Alon moments before, had remained behind, he asked.

Then—

“Hey.”

The pleasant expression Seolrang had worn just earlier had vanished, replaced by a completely blank mask.

Finally—

“Enough.”

Her frigid golden eyes matched the icy words that followed.