Chapter 316

Chapter 316: The Old Mage

A suffocating quietude stretched across the tense atmosphere. A biting winter breeze swept through the area as the Sakwol mages drew their respective weapons. Though referred to as mages, their choice of armaments varied drastically. Some held traditional staves like classic sorcerers, whereas others brandished swords, spears, or blades—a sight that was not altogether rare. Consequently… this distance fell entirely within their domain.

Nevertheless, Musphelun’s presence was far more imposing than that of everyone else combined. It was under the weight of this heavy pressure that Pahren finally spoke.

“I anticipated as much, Grand Duke. Truly, the patriarch of Decullan. You can even select your own final resting place.”

Pahren let out a brief chuckle at Musphelun’s words.

“The ‘Mage of Conclusion’… I had heard tales of you. Yet, you do not quite match the descriptions in the rumors. You are not nearly as mild-mannered.”

“That demeanor was reserved for your grandfather. I was forced to teach him a lesson after he grew arrogant, relying blindly on his so-called house.”

“Is that so…”

Pahren smiled disdainfully as he surveyed his surroundings. His gaze swept over the Sakwol mages before locking firmly onto Musphelun. No one needed to ask what “that” implied. He was daring them to make a move. Pahren radiated no aura whatsoever, but that very lack of energy weighed even more heavily on those surrounding him. Consequently, the silence dragged on for a spell.

“Grand Duke.”

Pahren took a step toward Musphelun. The Sakwol mages shifted, but Musphelun raised a hand to halt them, simply watching as Pahren drew near. Pahren glided through the formation of mages and came to a stop directly in front of Musphelun.

“If I were to slit your throat right here… I imagine the Emperor would be absolutely delighted.”

“If you are capable.”

“Even if the roles were reversed, he would still applaud.”

Musphelun remained silent. He understood perfectly what Pahren meant. …In a way, both of them shared a common adversary in the Emperor. Musphelun and the Emperor, in particular, were allies bound by imperial blood, yet entangled in layers of political strife. As members of the “imperial family,” they enjoyed the Emperor’s favor, but that identical status brought an inescapable level of scrutiny.

“I am aware of what the Empire is concealing.”

“Which is why you turned your back on the world, is it not, Grand Duke? You surely will not choose the side of the imperial house now.”

His demeanor implied that he was privy to everything. Musphelun countered with a wild, feral smile.

“You are talking in circles… What an entertaining tale!”

“I am pleased that you find enjoyment in it, Grand Duke.”

Musphelun and Pahren locked eyes in total silence. A piercing winter wind ruffled their hair as it roared past.

“It is none of your concern.”

“Quite true… though I could easily handle a few duties in your stead.”

Musphelun erupted into a laugh of pure disbelief.

“Reflect upon it carefully, Grand Duke. Our objectives… just might align.”

“You are desperate to save your own skin. So frantic to survive? Fine, have it your way.”

A rejection? Well, that was perfectly fine. Views could always shift. Pahren shrugged his shoulders as though it were no great loss and walked right past Musphelun. His steps guided him directly toward Aster. Pahren halted there, staring down at him.

“Tower Master. The offer remains open. I shall await your reply.”

With those final words, Pahren departed into the snow-covered field. Aster tracked his departure for a brief moment before shifting his gaze away. There stood Musphelun, firmly rooted in his spot.

‘What…?’

There was something bizarre about the conversation between Musphelun and Pahren. It was as if Pahren knew the exact reason Musphelun had chosen a life of isolation. Could it be that the orphanage was not his sole motivation for returning? And what exactly was the Empire keeping hidden?

As Aster pondered these thoughts…

“Cough.”

Musphelun’s shoulders shuddered violently, and he stumbled. His upper body began to tilt forward.

“Grand Duke…!”

The Sakwol mages rushed toward him in unison. It was the adverse reaction of forcing his fractured core to draw out magical energy. However, Musphelun steadied his posture, gesturing for the Sakwol mages to back away while directing his pale gaze toward Aster.

“Tower Master. Take a walk with me for a brief moment.”

Aster closely examined Musphelun. Those eyes clearly had something to convey.

“……Very well.”

Musphelun was aiming for some sort of conclusion. Musphelun commanded the Sakwol mages to follow at a distance before setting off. He steered his course toward the Second Black and White Slum. Aster followed behind in absolute silence. Musphelun did not utter a word until they were well clear of the battlefield.

“My physical form is no longer what it used to be. At any rate, I am certain you harbor questions.”

His tone had grown gentle now, a stark contrast to before, but Aster’s expression hardened as he observed Musphelun. And with good reason…

• You must have a great deal to accomplish to rectify your blunders. Do you truly have time to waste like this?

• I could easily handle a few duties in your stead.

Pahren’s parting words echoed loudly in his thoughts. Nevertheless, Aster held back from probing into their meaning. Musphelun seemed to grasp this and spoke with absolute clarity.

“I was not intentionally hiding it. I simply lacked any reason to speak on the matter.”

“What…”

“It is an ancient tale. Do you wish to hear it?”

Aster gave a nod, and Musphelun offered an ironic smile before pressing on.

“It dates back… quite a long way. To the era of the Old War. Do you happen to know why the Ancient War broke out? To be exact, it was an insurrection staged by the great families.”

Official history documented the spark of the Old War in the following manner. The increasingly influential great houses challenged the heavens, unable to restrain their grand ambitions, and ultimately raised their banners in rebellion. Neighboring kingdoms seized upon the internal chaos to launch invasions. Truly chaotic times, both internally and externally…

But why drag the history of that war into the present?

“The imperial family committed an unpardonable sin back then.”

“A sin…”

“Does the insurrection of the great houses not strike you as peculiar? A total of four houses perished: two of mages and two of swordsmen. The figure itself was highly telling. A mere coincidence, perhaps? But two of each variety rebelling in perfect unison? Have you ever discovered where their grimoires and magic swords vanished to after those houses collapsed? For context, those four were not the sole grand estates to crumble during the Ancient War. Others within the neighboring kingdoms met a similar fate.”

What did that imply? A brief moment of contemplation brought the answer to light. It was simply too preposterous. Which was precisely why Musphelun was sharing it now.

“Are you suggesting that the Ancient War… was a theatrical performance engineered by the Empire and the kingdoms?”

“Precisely. A calculated maneuver to seize grimoires and magic swords.”

Aster found it difficult to process this amidst Musphelun’s tranquil response. Grimoires and magic swords. Yes, they were transcendental relics. Yet, when evaluating the sheer scale and immense cost of the Ancient War, it could not have been a profitable venture for either the Empire or the kingdoms. Why would that be the case? The destabilization of the imperial house and the subsequent rise of the great families directly resulted from the aftermath—if Musphelun spoke the truth, it amounted to a slaughter of unimaginable proportions.

“Is that… genuinely the truth?”

“I witnessed it with my very eyes.”

“What…”

“The two grimoires and the two magic swords that were held by the imperial house. All of them are currently recorded as lost.”

Musphelun spoke without hesitation, but a deep sense of guilt drenched his voice; a remorse that could never be wiped away. That was the reason he had separated himself from society. A hero of war. The Mage of Conclusion. What did “conclusion” truly signify in this context?

The Old War was a self-inflicted tragedy devised by the Empire and the kingdoms. A strategy to demolish the ascendant great families while locking down weapons to use against them. In the end, the Empire claimed two grimoires and two magic swords. Each neighboring kingdom crushed its own prominent houses and seized the spoils. Therefore… ‘conclusion’ was entirely the wrong word. The very blood coursing through his veins had initiated that conflict from the very start.

Aster’s voice broke through the silence at that exact moment.

“Then, the ‘duties’ you must perform…”

“I must rectify those blunders.”

“Was that your objective from the very beginning?”

In other words, was the orphanage merely a convenient trigger? But Musphelun shook his head serenely.

“That resolve is quite recent. Once I stepped back into the world… my heart simply refuse to remain idle.”

At this juncture, Aster could not help but wonder. ‘It is astonishing, without a doubt.’ A hidden truth veiled behind the Ancient War. And Lord Musphelun harboring such a profound intent. Yet, that realization only served to deepen the enigma.

Musphelun concluded with a subtle smile. As gentle as ever… yet somehow appearing unburdened. From that expression, Aster grasped a fundamental truth: just how long this secret had tortured Lord Musphelun. Perhaps this old sorcerer had been waiting for a day when he could unburden his soul to another.

Aster stared directly at the aged mage, who was visibly tormented by regret, his lips parting and closing repeatedly. After a brief pause, and following immense hesitation, Aster finally spoke.

“What do you intend to do?”

How could one possibly correct such a monumental error? Musphelun replied with complete composure.

“I have a specific strategy in mind. However, it is not something you need to be privy to. Do not fret over it. Rather…”

He then directed his gaze toward Aster.

“Leave the Second Black and White Slums to the Second Black and White Slums. Did I not instruct you to set down your heavy burden?”

Musphelun gently placed a hand on Aster’s head as he spoke. In the exact manner he would treat his own pupil, Obern.

“You live for the days ahead. Allow us, the elderly, to dwell in the past.”

The future rests in your hands. The past is what we defend.

“My aging form is brimming with the desire to right past wrongs and live out my days in yesteryear. Therefore…” Musphelun stated. “Do not set foot inside the Second Black and White Slums ever again.”

In that precise instant, Aster understood completely. He had assumed that reaching enlightenment had severed all lingering attachments and lightened his load… but the transformation had not been absolute. And now, the old mage gladly accepted the weight of the young sorcerer who was sprinting toward tomorrow.

And so.

As the freezing wind whistled past, the young sorcerer posed a question to the elderly mage.

“Senior.”

“Speak.”

“If… there were a method to completely revive your essence, what path would you choose to take then?”

This was the greatest offering the young mage could possibly present.