Chapter 314

Chapter 314: There Was No Shame

Crack…!

A cataclysmic blow reverberated through my skull, plunging my consciousness into a heavy fog.

The faint, copper tang of blood began to seep across my lips. It tasted sweet.

So sweet that Holland found himself unable to suppress the laughter bubbling up from deep within.

“You are finally looking at me!”

Exhilaration. A joy so breathtakingly immense that it could not be contained. Had he ever experienced such pure euphoria in his entire existence?

No, Holland could state that with absolute certainty.

‘Never.’

That was right. Never before.

A rival, they called it?

What absolute garbage!

To speak candidly, Holland had never once acknowledged the concept of a “rival.”

A rival was merely a romanticized term for a decent enemy, but how could an enemy ever be considered decent?

An adversary was nothing more than a walking corpse—something destined to be snuffed out sooner or later.

Stripping away the illusions, they were just a piece of decaying meat.

And yet, to assign profound meaning to a piece of decaying meat?

Utter madness!

Look closely, then.

Look at this blazing, scorched earth. Look at the foe charging straight through it.

Take one step backward, and they close the distance with two.

Deploy all your willpower, and they pierce through it entirely unmoved.

Can you not see it? That intense gleam illuminating their eyes.

Even as their protective barrier shatters under the weight of the consuming inferno and their flesh begins to sear, they never once falter.

Shatter the barrier…

Hiss—!

They glide past like a phantom.

Advancing deliberately, pace by pace.

Trailing behind them is a vibrant wake of blue mana, maintaining its shape perfectly even amidst the crimson conflagration.

And when they finally close the gap…

Boom—!

A torrent of mana erupted like a bolt of lightning.

Zzzzt!

That barrage of pure light carried the weight of absolute death, rendering it utterly impossible to obstruct, even with a barrier.

Therefore…

“How could this not be absolutely enchanting?”

The word “joy” was wholly inadequate to describe his current state of mind. No, did human language even possess the terminology to capture such an emotion?

No amount of flowery prose could ever come close.

Holland evaded the lightning bolt, racing at maximum speed across the blackened terrain, seizing the perfect momentum to launch himself high into the sky.

Roaring flames gathered and swirled within his grasp.

Before long, a blazing sphere of fire was hurled straight toward his opponent.

Boom!

Throughout the entirety of this conflict.

Holland teetered precariously on the precipice of death, breaking through his own boundaries time and time again.

Keeen—

At times, he unleashed transcendence, gauging his adversary in fleeting, fragmented moments of frozen time. At other moments, they traded violent blows at point-blank range.

During the course of the struggle, Holland shed his preconceptions, layer by layer. One layer, then another…

This growth born of mortal combat was by no means exclusive to Holland.

Aster’s eyes meticulously analyzed Holland’s movements while simultaneously sustaining dozens of Explosive Annihilations as he bolted across the battlefield.

At some point, the crimson inferno lost its ability to disrupt the Explosive Annihilations.

Not even a single flicker of instability marred the mana. The condensed Explosive Annihilations held perfectly steady on their own merit.

It was a deeply contradictory sight.

Explosive Annihilations were originally conceived by compounding the destructive force of mana particles radiating outward.

Their very core relied on the volatile nature of instability; yet there they were, perfected in a state of absolute stability.

The manner of their manifestation had transformed as well.

The irregular, erratic flow—which once mirrored a chaotic thunderbolt—now fired in a perfectly straight line like pure light, and the rumbling prelude of noise that used to signal the impending detonation had vanished entirely.

And so, through these unending, repetitive clashes.

The flickering walls of fire surged toward Aster like an overwhelming tidal wave. Astonishingly, this phenomenon was brought to life solely through sheer force of will.

Enveloped by that hellscape, Aster let out a faint, frosty breath and closed his eyes.

Even with transcendence unlocked, achieving this was an impossibility without possessing the ultimate essence of ice magic at its absolute zenith.

This, too, materialized exclusively through pure will.

Exactly as Holland had proclaimed…

They were true rivals to one another.

Each held the capacity to claim the other’s life, yet despite pushing themselves to the absolute limit, neither was invincible.

Aster had transformed into a benchmark that Holland could realistically reach, sparking profound enlightenment within him, and the exact same was true in reverse.

……Complete immersion.

Moving forward without a single pause to slay one another, evolving relentlessly. The desperate struggle for survival became an art.

Just as Holland tasted pure ecstasy, Aster experienced a deep, profound sense of fulfillment.

And that very fulfillment crystallized into an authentic awakening.

Plop.

The era has transformed.

Absurdly, the heavy burden he had clung to with such desperate agony simply detached from his heart.

It had remained stubbornly etched into his psyche every single time he tried to let it go, occupying a persistent corner of his thoughts.

With the changing of the era, cast aside all responsibility.

The Magic Tower. The Second Black-White Slums.

You could not safeguard what you cherished through sheer willpower alone. Nor could you simply throw away what you wished to discard.

Because of this…

He let it go.

All of it.

The lingering attachments born from empty illusions, the paradise he had envisioned as boundless joy and wished so desperately to preserve.

The people, the epochs, the fragrances of every blossom that arrives alongside the spring.

Having barely arrived at this spring after the barren, frozen winter of his previous existence, it was precious beyond any measurable degree.

Recognizing that this spring would not endure forever filled him with an aching longing; even realizing its transience filled his soul with anxiety.

Rest provided no true rest, and happiness brought no true happiness.

Even in the peaceful shadows of his rest, his eyes never strayed from the thorny, treacherous path lying on the distant horizon.

Even while immersed in blissful moments, his heart remained submerged in the mire.

But now, in this very instant.

Of his own volition.

……He let it go.

The Circle.

It was a binding chain. Forging a link between the past, the present, and the future.

Weaving the present together with the “Heavenly Origin Art” of days gone by, while dreaming of the “Magic Tower” yet to come.

The internal imagery coalesced into a single, definitive form.

A grand archive constructed for all the wretched souls of the world: a compass navigating the present, vengeance rectifying the past, and a deep yearning for the future.

Now, he finally confessed it to himself.

What he had fought so hard to protect was not the tower itself.

It was his own identity as the one seeking to defend the Magic Tower.

But.

There was no shame.

Born into the dirt of the Black-White slums. A lowly hound who had wallowed in filth for the entirety of his life.

What right did a creature like that possess to claim a human heart now?

That was precisely why he chose to step into the shadows.

He had no desire to reveal his authentic countenance beneath the brilliant, unforgiving sun.

…….The state of transcendence matured even further.

But there was no explosive, radical transformation like the very first time he shattered that boundary.

The world simply broadened and expanded before his eyes.

“You have ascended as well…!”

In the face of Holland’s manic, unhinged laughter, Aster ceased all motion, absorbing the moment entirely.

He understood it clearly now.

You could not protect anything by desperately gripping it. Only by releasing your grip could you truly safeguard it.

Whoooosh!—

As if triggered by sorcery, a refreshing breeze sliced through the oppressive heat, tossing his hair.

Aster and Holland, both having integrated their newly discovered revelations, locked eyes.

Aster’s gaze was no longer frozen with malice.

Upon meeting that gaze, Holland sensed it intuitively.

The conclusion of this battle was rapidly drawing near.

The turbulent, chaotic currents of mana and the volatile spells brought the ambient air to a sudden, absolute standstill.

Yet, this was undeniably the eerie quiet preceding the tempest.

The raging fires extinguished themselves, drawing together into Holland’s tight grip. A concentrated fragment of flame manifested from his hand.

Utterly flawless, it pulsed with a bizarre rhythm, as if it originated from an entirely different dimension. Aster observed it with serene detachment before taking a single step forward.

Resonating Circle, and…

A low rumble.

Mana compressing tightly into his clenched fist.

The surrounding mana warped the fabric of space itself to rush into his grasp. An impossible, overlapping stacking of mana. A profound application of Link…

……

……

Aster and Holland synchronized their breathing, keeping their eyes locked onto each other. They did not recklessly charge forward as they had done previously.

Despite the physical distance separating them, they maneuvered like blades hovered precisely over each other’s throats: wary, hyper-aware, and knowing.

When their meticulously crafted spells finally detonated, physical distance ceased to mean anything at all.

……And then.

The downpour of fire ground to a halt.

Heavy snow clouds blanketerd the sky once more. Delicate snowflakes began drifting down from above.

The exact millisecond the initial snowflake brushed against the earth—

Flash.

Blinding white flames saturated the entire world.

In a fractured instant of frozen time, Aster caught sight of the oncoming white conflagration. At a glance, it appeared listless, as though resigned to its own end, but it was not.

Because.

His hand was already extended, open.

……

Resting above his open palm.

Mana stood perfectly superimposed within the empty space.

Aster infused it with a singular, definitive image. Nothing extraordinary, nothing novel.

Merely the exact concept he had deployed from the depths of the Great Forest up until this very moment.

The very same imagery that Holland had branded as “Hellfire.”

——!

Absolute silence.

As if the genesis and the conclusion were forged as one.

Only the ultimate consequence materialized before his eyes.

“Heh, ha…”

Was it shocking that the brilliant white flames vanished without leaving behind even a trace of ash?

Holland let out a stunned, breathless gasp. No, his shock did not stem from the hollow, useless termination of his own magic.

Rather…

Positioned directly ahead of him.

Suspended in the dead center of space.

A lone flame burned quietly in midair.

A flame of deep, profound blue.

Ominous.

And entirely devoid of heat. Why? Was it because of its blue hue? No. Sorcerous flames did not derive their color from thermal intensity.

Nevertheless, it radiated no heat whatsoever.

Nor did it project any palpable sense of raw power.

‘And yet, why…?’

Why did it instill such an overwhelming sense of terror?

From a flame no larger than a closed fist, Holland experienced a paralyzing dread.

Resembling the mythical fires of the underworld, it felt like a promise to reduce even the immortal soul to absolute nothingness.

……But why?

Why did he not bring this to a definitive end?

“What are you…?”

Just as he was about to interrogate his opponent’s strange behavior, Holland realized something was fundamentally wrong and choked back his words.

Transparent, vacant eyes.

They held no recognition of him whatsoever.

Instead…

Turning his gaze around, Holland finally comprehended the reason his adversary had not delivered the finishing blow.

To be entirely precise, it wasn’t that he hadn’t, but rather that he couldn’t.

Who possessed the capability to obstruct that terrifying flame?

..Someone could.

Pahren von Decullan.

The sorcerer destined to be remembered as the greatest to ever live.

“……Patriarca.”

In the heart of the raging blizzard, Holland offered a deep, respectful bow to the man who remained entirely untouched by even a single speck of grime.

Inconceivable given the beastly nature of his prior assault, the recipient of the bow remained completely expressionless.

Pahren completely disregarded the kneeling Holland, locking his gaze entirely onto Aster instead.

A moment later, he parted his lips to speak.

“Are you the Master of the Tower?”

Aster chose to remain silent.

In an epoch that had long since drifted into the past.

It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Pahren von Decullan, the uncle of the fool in your care and the head of the Decullan household.

The past and the present became inextricably bound together.

At that precise intersection of time, Aster silently observed Pahren.