episode_0067

Although the Magic Tower is an institution not governed by any nation, its base is located in the southern part of the kingdom. Naturally, one might assume it belongs to the kingdom, but that’s not the case. The empire funded the tower’s operational expenses, while the holy kingdom provided ancient tomes and rare resources. Moreover, the wizards hailed from diverse backgrounds and held affection for their homelands, so a balance was maintained.

With abundant wealth and resources, one might call it a near-perfect environment—but wizards, ever-curious and insatiable creatures, were never content with just that. Thus, they deliberately chose a location in the kingdom’s south, close to the Elia Great Forest, home to the elves.

The forest’s ecosystem, the World Tree, and the elves—they hoped to someday secure their cooperation for research. So far, nothing major had come of it, but they occasionally obtained rare flowers or seeds smuggled out of the forest, so it wasn’t a complete loss.

For that reason, though far removed, the Magic Tower offered a distant view of the World Tree soaring toward the sky. This also meant the place was somewhat familiar to Ian and Millen, who had once visited the forest border in search of Arina.

“Still, seeing it this close is a first. It’s enormous.”

Millen let out an awed gasp at the sight of the tower up close. Though its height paled in comparison to the World Tree, it surpassed any other structure in existence. Encircled by stone walls over 20 meters high, the tower itself loomed so tall that its peak was invisible from such proximity. And with a permanent barrier surrounding the area, it was an impregnable fortress where not even an ant could trespass.

“That just shows how vital the knowledge inside is. Unless you’re a tower-affiliated mage, not even a king or an emperor can enter without special permission.”

Hidden within were forbidden spells that could doom the world and artifacts capable of unleashing calamities. The restriction existed to prevent ignorant hands from spreading chaos.

“Though honestly, that’s just the official excuse. The real reason is to hide the illicit research they conduct as casually as eating.”

The truly dangerous items were stored in heavily secured, hard-to-find locations, making theft virtually impossible. But if their activities were ever exposed, they’d all lose their heads, so the secrecy rule was a convenient cover.

“So, what you’re saying is—all of you are practically traitors? Mages really are nutjobs.”

Well, what choice do we have? Even this isn’t enough to satisfy the higher-ups!

Arina had once said the same, only to hear this retort from her mentor. Of course, nations funneled money, land, and resources into the tower—not out of charity, but for what it offered in return. The tower provided newly developed magical tools to the world, supplied professors and instructors to magic academies, dispatched powerful mages to battlefronts, and even unraveled the demons’ weaknesses.

Though their numbers were too few to rival a nation’s full military might, their influence per capita was overwhelming. Some even speculated that whichever kingdom bought the tower’s loyalty after the Demon King’s defeat would unite the world.

“Anyway, it’s been a while.”

This was the first time she had seen the tower in person since leaving to join the hero’s party. Back then, the hero’s duties kept her busy. After the betrayal, she shut herself away. And after her transformation, she couldn’t bear to face her old colleagues in such a sorry state.

Delaying it again and again, over ten years had slipped by. Both inwardly and outwardly, much about Arina had changed, but the tower and its towering walls stood just as before.

Though given how mages loathed monotony, the interior was surely different.

Now her last remaining refuge, the place she had avoided for so long felt strangely nostalgic now that she was here.

“But there’s no guard at the entrance. How do we get in?”

“Isn’t there something like this?”

Millen pointed toward a wooden mailbox. A simple house-shaped box with a small door, which, when opened, revealed stationery, envelopes, and a pen.

“Write your name on the paper, put it in the envelope, and it’ll fly to the person in charge. They’ll come out, check, and let us in.”

“So, you should write your name, right? Ours wouldn’t mean anything to them anyway.”

Millen handed her the paper and pen, but Arina wagged her finger dismissively.

“There’s a much faster way.”

Then—BAM!—she kicked the massive gate with all her might. As the tower’s sole entrance, the gate was sturdy enough to accommodate dozens of carriages for supplies. Naturally, it wouldn’t budge or even scratch from a mere kick—

BZZT. A barrier instantly activated, blocking her foot.

“Uh…what are you doing?”

Confused, Ian tilted his head. Arina pulled her foot back and gestured for them to wait.

“Just watch.”

Tap tap tap. She struck the ground three times with her left foot, as if counting beats. Right on cue, the earth rumbled—KRROOM!—and a smaller door built into the gate (likely for pedestrians) flew open. Out stormed a man with an unusually smooth, bald head.

“YOU LITTLE BRATS! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY IT—DON’T KICK THE DAMN GATE! YOU’RE WASTING MAGIC ENERGY, YOU IDIOTS!”

He raged about mana depletion with every barrier activation, how all their kicks combined wasted a high-grade magic stone, how magic stones would be depleted within decades if this kept up—

Of this tirade, only the bit about waste struck a chord with Ian, who had grown up under his mother’s frugal care.

“Kids these days… Huh?”

His scalp gleaming under the sunlight, the man finally registered that the gate-kickers weren’t tower mages.

Did he just yell without even checking? Explains the baldness—too much anger. Millen snickered internally.

Arina stepped forward.

“It’s me.”

“Yeah, yeah, jokes don’t work here. Scram. Messing with a mage usually ends badly, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

Waving his hands dismissively like shooing pests, he assumed she was a fraud.

“This guy doesn’t even read the news. Take a closer look—still don’t recognize me?”

She pointed at her own face, shoving it toward him.

“Hmph. Yeah, sure, you’re pretty—I can tell from a distance. So what?”

“No, dummy. It’s me—Riel! Riel Frost!”

Finally losing patience, she outright gave the answer.

“Riel? Now that you mention it, there was a rumor about you turning into a woman… But your mana’s not flowing.”

“This is a mana-suppression necklace.”

“No idea why you’d wear that…”

Mumbling, the man conjured water midair. The floating orb swirled toward Arina, twisting into a vortex that violently whipped through her hair.

“GYAAH!”

Instantly, black dye was sucked out, revealing her original silver locks.

“Thought my scalp was coming off.”

“That silver hair… Really Riel?”

No impostor would dye their hair black before visiting. At last, the man seemed to take her seriously.

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Then why are your eyes like that?”

“That’s why I’m here. I need to see Master.”

“Ah, right. You were always the worst at listening to ‘Don’t kick the gate.’ Yep, you’re definitely Riel Frost.”

“Halihan’s still worse, though.”

“Nah, you’re the champion. No one’s beaten your record even after you left.”

Irked by the memory, he furrowed his brows and pulled out a sheet to write something.

“Is Master away?”

“No. The Tower Lord’s in the research wing today.”

“Then why the letter?”

“‘Cause I’m reporting the traitor Riel Frost showing up at the tower. As beneficiaries of national support, we’re obliged to inform them.”

Scratching away at the paper, he ignored Arina’s panicked sweat as she grabbed his shoulders to stop him.

“Hey, Azul. Don’t be cold. How many years have we known each other?”

“Fourteen? But we haven’t met in longer.”

“Thirteen! You’re seriously upsetting me here.”

“Lost count after a while.”

“Regardless! How can you sell out a thirteen-year friend for the sake of the country? That’s just unethical.”

It was like watching a farce. Marin would’ve called it classic WWE material. Arina, back in her old stomping grounds, seemed unlike herself—perhaps unconsciously slipping into her past self.

Maybe this was the real Riel Frost. Ian mused.

“Doubt the tower has any reason to harbor a walking bomb like you.”

“Actually, it does.”

Her confidence piqued Azul’s interest.

“Really?”

“These eyes—they were changed by something called magic energy. I haven’t fully studied it yet, but it can nullify mana. You call me a bomb? They’d carry ten of me if they could.”

Hearing this, Azul couldn’t help but waver. These were the same mages who’d committed blasphemy trying to replicate holy magic.

Not one among them had ever ratted the others out—which was why the world remained oblivious.

Mages were the types to chase intrigue, legality be damned.

He’ll bite.

As predicted, Azul’s pupils trembled madly. After a long pause, he sighed.

“…This isn’t my call. Wait here—I’ll report to the Tower Lord.”

“No need.”

A new woman’s voice cut in, accompanied by the sharp click of heels against stone.

Wavy golden hair. Blue eyes darker than Arina’s. A wide-brimmed hat and long robes—the very image of a mage.

The Tower Lord. Literally the master of the Magic Tower and its most powerful wizard. Also, Arina’s mentor—Ellin Martina.

Despite rarely leaving the tower, she had come personally.

“No need to waste time. Shall we head inside?”