Ch.13The Witch Who Will Save the World (1)

Wizards are fundamentally creatures who thirst for knowledge.

Whether devouring quality grimoires or learning under an exceptional master, it all served the same purpose.

To gain more knowledge, to construct more innovative magic.

In that sense, the current situation was nothing short of a dream for them.

One could tell just by how they immersed themselves in the grimoires, forgetting even the fact they had been kidnapped.

Thud.

Ro Fernandi sighed as he closed the grimoire.

“Th-these are all genuine. Unbelievable…”

“R-really?”

Ro nodded in disbelief at Jayna’s question.

The grimoire series written by Balta Krana, the Grandmaster who led the magical renaissance 300 years ago. The ‘Balta Krana’ series.

‘I heard the Imperial family only has three copies…!’

Yet five of these treasures were right before their eyes.

This alone was enough to drive them mad, but with the appearance of artifacts they’d never seen before, they simply couldn’t close their mouths.

Gulp.

‘I want it.’

‘Just a little, I want to read just a little more!’

Even Aramis couldn’t take his eyes off the grimoire in this moment. If Fernandi, known as the “Ancient Text Decoder” at the White Tower, said they were genuine, then they were genuine.

So all these mountains of grimoires were authentic.

‘How on earth…’

Aramis glanced sideways. What kind of person would so casually show such treasures?

When they should be hidden away under lock and key.

One thing was certain—this person didn’t think like ordinary people.

Snap!

With the sound of fingers snapping, the grimoires were sucked into a spatial void. The White Tower mages licked their lips as they watched the grimoires disappear before their eyes.

“Ah…”

“Well, that’s all for the preview. If you want to see more… you know what to do, right?”

“B-before deciding, may I ask a few more questions?”

“Of course. I’m more generous than I look.”

Ah…

So generous.

That’s why you beat people like dogs.

Jayna barely collected herself and asked.

“If you’re truly a mage, couldn’t you have asked the Tower Master’s permission properly instead of… this?”

The implication was clear: why bring us here in such a harsh and cruel manner?

Hmm, there’s some bite to those words.

The reason for not doing so was simple.

‘As if your Tower Master would ever permit it.’

I’d be lucky not to get my head chopped off.

With a likeability score of negative 80, that’s the kind of power it had.

If I could have brought them along by “politely” asking, I would have gone to the Imperial Academy, not some remote White Tower in the borderlands.

…But I couldn’t say that.

I needed to be somewhat indirect.

After a moment’s consideration, Olivia spoke.

“It’s because of my curse.”

“…Pardon?”

“Exactly what I said. When ordinary people see me, they develop murderous intent toward me. That’s the same reason the White Tower Master tried to kill me.”

Everyone kept their mouths shut without responding. They seemed quite shocked.

I hadn’t told a lie.

I just embellished a bit.

Honestly, a curse was preferable to catastrophically low likeability.

“…Then what about us?”

“Sometimes there are people like you who aren’t affected by the curse. I don’t know why.”

Well, I do know.

I know very well.

It’s because you didn’t die by my hand.

“What a remarkable coincidence that all three of these rare exceptions happened to be at the White Tower.”

Aramis spoke in what seemed like a challenging tone. Olivia thrust her face close to his.

“You haven’t been beaten enough, have you?”

“N-no, that’s not it. This is just how I talk.”

Aramis waved his hands in surprise. Regardless, Olivia had no intention of stopping.

Even if it was just formality, a disciple was a disciple.

Especially since she was older, it was only right that she should be addressed respectfully.

This absolutely wasn’t because she was old-fashioned.

Absolutely not.

“No, you haven’t been beaten enough. That person over there never used honorifics in their life, but now they use them just fine.”

Their gazes naturally turned in one direction.

“…”

Glacia glared at the eyes focused on her.

‘Look away, you bastards!’

After a moment’s hesitation, the trio turned their heads away.

‘What did we do wrong?’

‘We just looked, why so sensitive?’

Glacia sighed deeply inside.

Since when had a dragon’s dignity fallen to this state?

Watching this warm scene quietly, Olivia spoke.

“Aramis.”

“…Why are you calling me?”

“What? Whaaaat?”

Aramis bit his lip. But when he heard the familiar crackling from Olivia’s hand, he had no choice but to lower his tail.

“…What is it, ma’am?”

“Yes, yes. That’s it.”

“Kuhup!”

“Kukukuk!”

Seeing his peers trying to hold back their laughter, Aramis gritted his teeth again.

“While we’re at it, call me Master.”

“M-m-m…”

The kind face of Royd appeared in Aramis’s mind. He was a benefactor who had accepted him, an orphan with nowhere to go, as a disciple of the White Tower.

No matter how emotionally reserved and calculating Aramis was, he knew the minimum of propriety.

‘I have only one Master. That will never change.’

But he also didn’t want his brain to be marinated in electric current again.

That was a kind of pain he never wanted to experience again. Just thinking about the humiliation of writhing on the floor like a worm made him dizzy already.

Aramis slowly raised his head. Olivia was fiddling with her staff, wearing a subtle smile.

‘W-what kind of look is that…!’

Olivia’s focus was fixed on him without the slightest waver. A face whose thoughts were impossible to read.

It was true madness.

Aramis unconsciously swallowed. The image of Royd collapsing with foam at his mouth flashed before him.

– Grrrrrr!

He made his decision. He would build up his skills under Olivia, then avenge Royd.

‘I’m absolutely not doing this out of fear.’

Yes, absolutely not.

The Tower Master would understand.

After all, the future Tower Master needs to be alive to take the position.

“…Master.”

Aramis, having said that much, slightly raised his head.

And then he saw it.

Olivia’s face right in front of him.

At that eeriness, Aramis finally abandoned his last shred of pride.

“…nim.”

“Good boy.”

Olivia smiled and stepped back.

Letting go of pride is only difficult the first time; it gets easier after that.

‘That Aramis needs to learn to put his pride aside.’

When facing someone stronger, one must know when to yield. If you can’t do that, you should at least know your place. Not knowing that means death.

‘That’s why he broke.’

In the previous cycle, Aramis had died before Olivia even began her extermination route.

Along with his two friends.

Breaking the silence, Aramis spoke.

“May I ask one question?”

“Something’s missing at the end, disciple.”

“Master… nim.”

It felt like his teeth were being ground to dust as he spoke, but he ignored it.

Because Olivia was very generous.

“If I learn under you, can I become the best?”

“No?”

“…Pardon?”

Aramis let out a high-pitched sound. Jayna and Ro, who were watching from behind, reacted similarly.

Olivia looked at each of them one by one and asked in return.

With a face more serious than anything they’d seen so far.

“What do you think ‘the best’ is?”

“That’s…”

The surroundings were dyed in silence.

The best…

Had they ever thought about it so seriously?

Becoming a Tower Master, rewriting the history of magic.

And reaching the truth.

These were the dreams and goals of all mages.

But was that truly “the best”?

Every few hundred or thousand years, someone who reached the truth would appear.

Did those who became “the best” have nowhere further to go?

No.

‘The concept of “best” is relative.’

The “best” that an ordinary mage pursues and the “best” that a Tower Master pursues are incomparable.

Aramis slowly raised his head. He seemed to understand what Olivia meant by these words.

‘The question was wrong.’

Not the best, but the goal.

“Master, no.”

Aramis looked up at Olivia with a slightly different gaze than before.

“How far can you take me?”

Olivia pointed her finger to the sky.

“Higher than your goal.”

At that arrogant confidence, Aramis couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ha, hahaha!”

She’s insane.

No matter how you look at it, this woman is insane.

‘She doesn’t even know what my goal is.’

But one thing was certain.

This woman.

Olivia.

With a mere mortal body, she had risen higher than the noble dragons.

Aramis recalled his first lesson at the White Tower.

[A mage must never retreat in the pursuit of truth!]

Suddenly, he wanted to see a mirror. He was curious about what expression he was making.

But a moment later, seeing his peers’ faces, he realized there was no need.

They had decided not to back down.

They were trying to seize this opportunity to get even a little closer to the truth.

He was the same.

Thud!

The White Tower mages bowed simultaneously.

It was the moment they became disciples of the witch who destroyed the world—no.

The witch who would save the world.