Chapter 68 – Baldur’s Nightmare (2)

Seven celestial bodies remain eternally fixed in the sky, unaffected by the changing seasons.

The magic towers named after these stars are pinnacles of human knowledge and symbols of Pennheim’s national power.

For magic, and magic alone. These colossal pillars stand with a single purpose, constantly attracting those who thirst for knowledge. Seekers press their ears to the walls, straining to hear the secrets within.

Each pulsation emitted by a tower represents the essence of magic created by the wizards who uphold that knowledge.

Dubhe, Merak, Phecda, Megrez, Alioth, Mizar, and Alkaid.

Elements, Pyromancy, Image Magic, Summoning, Divinity, Alchemy, and Sorcery.

Under the categories of White and Black Magic, numerous schools exist, some evolving into distinct branches derived from Unique Magic. These vast reservoirs of knowledge are stored at the pinnacle of each magic tower.

The towers are divided into three layers: lower, middle, and upper. To become a tower master and grasp the fruits of that knowledge, wizards from across the continent flock to these towers.

For second-year students just beginning their magical training, only the lower layer was accessible. Yet, despite having arrived at Phecda Tower mere days ago, the students’ faces were already filled with excitement.

“Liv, look at this! It’s a portrait of Albrether!” Karen exclaimed. “They say it conceals the principles of the ‘Inferno of Terror’ magic that Count Albrether was so proud of… and it belongs to Phecda Tower!”

Karen was nearly overwhelmed by the national treasures scattered around and magical tomes of incalculable academic value.

While the Batudis region itself wasn’t economically prosperous due to its harsh environment, the inside of the magic towers was a clear exception.

The magic towers are academic institutions that abstain from national conflicts, even small wars. The sole exception was during the Great War when humanity teetered on the brink of extinction. Even then, only a few tower masters and a Grand Duke participated; the towers themselves remained neutral.

“We have an obligation to preserve humanity.”

This profound philosophy equates humanity with magic. Consequently, the treasures and magical research accumulated within the towers represent the pinnacle of continental knowledge.

They far outstrip the mere copies housed in Farencia Academy’s royal libraries.

It’s easy to understand when you consider where the academy’s professors are dispatched from.

The second-year students, sparing no time for meals or rest, constantly bombarded the tower mages and the deputy master with questions about magic. They understood the immense value of even the lower layers.

The sole exception was Liv. Even as she attended lectures on Image Magic, she showed little enthusiasm.

Her thoughts were entirely occupied with Louis and Adela.

By now, she imagined, the two were surely together in the academy’s store. The feeling was like a lump of metal being crushed under deep water pressure, sinking her heart.

Squeeze.

“Liv? Are you feeling unwell?”

“Huh?”

“Why are you clutching your stomach? Is it that time of the month?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m fine…”

***

On the third day, before officially commencing lectures, Dominic gathered the students to explain Phecda Tower’s defense system and the phenomenon unique to the Batudis region: “Baldur’s Nightmare.”

“On your journey here, you may have witnessed illusions that shouldn’t exist in reality. Some of you might have noticed that the monsters struck by our magical carriage weren’t native to Batudis.”

Several students nodded. Following Dominic’s guidance, they had observed weather changes and the appearance of non-existent buildings and people as they neared the tower.

“This phenomenon is called Baldur’s Nightmare. It usually manifests as insubstantial illusions, remnants of past events that linger and deceive our senses.”

“Are they truly without substance?” one student asked, raising a hand. The reason for the question was clear.

The phenomenon known as “fantasy murder” — disappearances and killings occurring in the Batudis region. If Baldur’s Nightmare were mere illusion, how could physical incidents occur?

“Even if they can’t directly affect reality, many find themselves unable to escape once ensnared by these illusions dense with magical energy. That’s the primary warning I want to impress upon you all.”

Dominic extended his severed arm. As if by magic, a cup from a nearby table floated into the air.

Casually bringing the floating cup to his lips, he continued, “Phecda’s area of research is <Image Magic>. Magic that makes the non-existent seem real. Baldur’s Nightmare operates on the same principle. While interpreting Unique Magic is complex, this phenomenon embodies the essence of Image Magic.”

He sprayed the liquid into the air, projecting a three-dimensional map of the Batudis region with Phecda Tower at its center.

Dominic’s severed arm pointed towards a jagged cliff west of the tower.

“That’s why, in addition to your tower lectures, you’ll form teams and visit the ‘Shrine of Storms.’ It’s where Baldur’s Nightmare is most easily observed and serves as a focal point of sorts.”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” a student asked.

“If the nightmare intensifies, alarms will sound from observation posts throughout the area. You heard the sirens on your way here, didn’t you? We won’t let you leave if an evacuation order is issued.”

Dominic’s gaze settled briefly on Liv, who was staring out the window.

“I’ve spoken at length. My final advice: don’t lose yourself in the illusions. Magic is as beautiful as it is dangerous.”

Liv, meeting Dominic’s eyes, felt an inexplicable chill and quickly looked away.

***

The moment I stepped off the magical carriage, damp air assaulted my senses. Though I could see the tower in the distance, I first donned my raincoat and began exploring the area.

As someone without official clearance to enter Phecda Tower, visiting it would be my last resort. And by “visiting,” I didn’t mean politely knocking and leaving a calling card.

Being pursued by mages during an investigation would be risky, so I planned to first explore the Batudis village where the demonic statue had been discovered.

Splash, splash. The low-lying fog and sodden ground set the perfect scene for a ghost story.

After a long trek, a dilapidated wooden building suddenly materialized before me. A structure in the middle of nowhere—the sign under the eaves read “Gluti Inn.”

“Welcome, sir!”

“Excuse the intrusion.”

Upon entering, I was greeted by the innkeepers, an ordinary-looking couple. However, their attire seemed oddly out of place.

I seated myself at a table in the ground floor dining area and ordered food and drink. Shortly after, they served a steaming turkey dish and some beer.

“Hmm, not bad.”

The food neither smelled strange nor appeared spoiled. I even felt somewhat sated.

But when it came time to pay, the couple looked troubled. The burly husband, in particular, scowled at the gold I proffered.

“Hey, pal. You trying to pull a fast one? Paying with this kind of currency?”

“What’s the problem?”

“Tch, I’ve heard about an uptick in brazen adventurers trying to dine and dash in the capital lately.”

“Honey, please don’t…”

“Go upstairs, Maria! You, come with me!”

The capital, huh…?

That’s not a term you’d hear in the current era. The continent no longer has an emperor.

So, there were only one—no, two things left to test.

I picked up my beer mug with one hand and seized the innkeeper’s throat with the other as he reached for my arm.

“Grk… What strength…!”

<Unique Magic: End of Magic ⌜Magic End⌟>

I heard the wife’s scream and the cracking of his neck, but beyond that, nothing changed significantly. As expected, the illusion itself wasn’t the source of the magic.

“Eeeeek! Somebody, help us!!”

Ignoring the wife’s cries for non-existent imperial guards, I left the inn.

The moment I stepped outside, the beer mug in my hand shattered. The liquid that should have splashed to the ground simply dissipated into the fog.

My stomach growled.

“Baldur’s Nightmare, huh…”

What an intriguing phenomenon.

***

After another half day’s journey, a small village came into view.

Since my first encounter with an illusion, I’d been meeting lifeless-looking knights or women engulfed in flames about once an hour, so I remained skeptical.

However, as soon as I made eye contact with the men guarding the village—apparently some sort of militia—my doubts dissipated.

They leveled crude crossbows at me and began their interrogation.

“State your name and affiliation!”

“Louis. Farencia Academy.”

“Farencia? What’s your business here?”

“Hmm… travel. For now.”

“You don’t seem to have a guide. Got a passage permit from the tower?”

“I don’t, but I have this instead.”

I produced a contingency I’d prepared back in Farencia: the Four Laurels medal that Lehel treasured. While I hadn’t brought her along, I’d taken this versatile badge.

I recalled her tearful protests: “Why, why are you taking my medal! I gave you the Wind Orb!! I promised I wouldn’t gamble anymore, waaah!!”

The memory of her clinging to my legs, sobbing, brought an involuntary chuckle.

Of course, nobles familiar with royal honors would immediately realize this wasn’t mine. And it certainly wouldn’t grant me access to the magic tower.

But to commoners ignorant of such matters, royal authority was absolute. Indeed, the militiamen’s hands began to tremble at the sight of the medal.

“I-I apologize for the inconvenience, sir.”

“Just open the gate.”

“Right away, sir!”

Upon entering the village, I was somewhat surprised by the apparent normalcy of daily life. The residents seemed to have adapted to the madness of the illusions.

“Welcome to Cantata Village.”

“You folks brew coffee or something?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind. I’m looking for something…”

I showed them the sketch of the demonic statue from Mareile’s notes, but my guide simply tilted his head, claiming he’d never seen such a thing.

“I’ve never laid eyes on anything so ominous. Perhaps the opposite…”

“The opposite?”

“Indeed. It’s become our village’s primary source of income lately. Would you care to see?”

He led me to a small warehouse on the village outskirts. Inside were boxes filled with statues of a light goddess, each gleaming with an aura of sanctity.

“What is all this?”

“As I mentioned, it’s our village’s main source of income.”

“Is there a temple nearby or something? How do you profit from these?”

“Well…”

The man’s story proved surprisingly fascinating.

“So… if you take one of these statues into an illusion, you can bring something back?”

“That’s right. In exchange, you leave the statue in the area where Baldur’s Nightmare has manifested. This allows us to retrieve small amounts of food, weapons, even currency from the past.”

“And the tower doesn’t interfere?”

“Hah, you think those mages care about commoners like us? In this sunless land, we must scavenge what we can to survive. We stumbled upon this method by chance.”

It seemed the villagers had grown somewhat accustomed to this bizarre phenomenon. Moreover, if they managed to survive being trapped in a nightmare, they were rewarded.

Their mindset mirrored that of adventurers delving into dungeons for loot.

However, it was disconcerting to see villagers who should be leading ordinary lives risking everything for this.

“Let me see… huh?”

Crack!

As I picked up one of the goddess statues, a hairline fracture appeared on its surface. The magic imbued within it shattered audibly.

The angelic wings crumbled away, revealing grotesque horns sprouting from its head.

Its toga transformed into a leather robe riddled with holes, fashioned from human skin.

<Unique Magic: End of Magic ⌜Magic End⌟>

Damn it. It’s a demonic statue after all.

“…Hey.”

The villager’s face, even more shocked than mine, betrayed the truth. They had been unknowingly spreading these demonic statues across the Batudis region.

“Who gave you these?”