Chapter 475 - Transformation (3)
The night streets of Gargant bore a bustle different from the daytime.
The magic stone lamps sparkled in dazzling colors.
Dark, deep alleys gathered those with sinister and impure intent, while on the main roads a nightlife had formed, with citizens of the great city laughing and chattering as they enjoyed urban life.
It was a sight impossible to see before the commercialization of magic.
And above it all, transcendent beings were conversing.
"Hm? Distasteful appearance, you say? Where on earth do you see that?"
"You speak aloud words that don't even need asking. Even you wouldn't think that appearance suits your age."
"Oh my, what does 'suit' even matter? Every form is still me. You're as rude as ever, aren't you?"
Ignacia swung her legs idly as she sat upon the rooftop railing.
The brilliant lights below became her backdrop.
"But what business does Amwol, who's been stirring the magic world, have in Gargant? Don't tell me you came all this way just to pick a fight with me. I'm sleepy, so explain properly, and quickly."
"I came to make a deal."
"A deal?"
The face of Ignacia, which had been lit with faint expectation, now showed boredom.
"What, you came because of the Scales of Ignacia? You couldn't attend last time because of your war with the magic tower, so you came yourself?"
"I…"
"Well! The previous auction making use of the labyrinth was a lot of fun. Not only the goods, but there was someone I really liked too."
She gestured, recalling the Magus with ash-gray hair and blue eyes.
"But right now, I'm not really in the mood to hold an auction. Come back another time. Since you came all the way yourself, I might make a special reservation. Oh, but if you've brought something truly fascinating to sell, then take it out right now."
The auctions hosted by Ignacia varied vastly in scale each time.
Sometimes she put forth goods such as dragon bones, other times it formed like a large underground market.
As a transcendent ruling the great city, she guaranteed her clients absolute safety.
At times, even anonymity.
Thus clients of every stripe, both from the light and the shadow, gathered.
In those moments, even most-wanted criminals could appear openly, without concern for the world's eyes, and leisurely enjoy the auction.
Black Hour was among them.
They usually participated as sellers, liquidating various magic items or artifacts to raise enormous funds.
At times, they appeared as buyers as well.
In other words, for Ignacia, Dahit was both a regular and a valued customer.
But today, Dahit's reason for visiting was different.
"Keep your mouth shut for now and listen. What I want isn't your playground, but a private transaction. And this time I am the buyer, you the seller."
"…Aha."
Ignacia clapped her hands together.
"So you have something in particular you want from me? That's why the great Amwol came here personally despite being so busy. Must be an important request?"
"It's not a request, it's a deal."
"And what's the difference? Whatever it is, the one holding the initiative isn't you, it's me. Still, this is funny."
A childlike smile lingered on her lips.
Her pale hand brushed back her radiant violet hair.
"Coming without notice, trespassing in another's domain, then daring to force your business on me… how amusing. Truly. The magic world has made you so infamous you see nothing else before your eyes now?"
At that instant, the emotion vanished from Ignacia's gaze.
"Dahit Wethroel. Do you want to die?"
Kugugugugugu…!
The area trembled.
The ground on either side bent upward into a vast arc, rising high into the heavens and joining into one far above.
Gargant itself, the entire world, had become a great circle encircling Ignacia and Dahit.
Of course it was an illusion, not reality… but not something to be taken lightly.
Ignacia was a transcendent who walked between the real and the unreal, and the largest city on the continent was her domain.
Even for one of equal standing, once you set foot here unbidden, escape was not easily granted.
Dahit narrowed his eyes.
"To truly kill me, you'd have to erase my very existence from everyone's memory."
"Don't you ever tire of that 'theory of memory'? Death is death. I'll warn you one last time. Tell me properly, and quickly, what you're really here for. I'm sleepy and irritated."
At some point Ignacia had taken on the form of an adult, revealing her full stature.
Illusions rippled on all sides.
In her eyes, amethyst galaxies flickered.
"Otherwise, I'll capture you here and hand you over to the magic tower. Or perhaps I could hold an auction for the culprit who overloaded Bohemirn Magic Tower's power source. That would sell better than dragon material."
At those words, Dahit's eye twitched.
"I never overloaded the power source."
"Yet you killed even the master of Diamoon Magic Tower recently, didn't you?"
"…"
Dahit felt a genuine frustration but forced himself not to correct her.
There was no point anyway.
When he was already waging a war against the Western Continent's alliance of magic towers for two years, what use was the truth?
Suppressing a sigh, Dahit spoke calmly.
"Since you press so, I'll speak directly. What I need is the superlative magic you possess."
Superlative magic.
A supreme and exalted force that could interfere with the world itself, permitted only to transcendents of magic.
"Yes, super… wait. What?"
Ignacia blinked.
An unexpected demand.
For a moment her eyes gleamed, then her aura receded.
She tilted her head.
"Superlative magic, is it. That does pique my interest… but leaving aside how such a thing could even be transacted, I have to wonder. If I lent such power to a villain like you, who knows what calamity might occur?"
"Does a hedonist like you even have such a thing as good and evil?"
"There are many kinds of enjoyment. If you used my magic to carry out a massacre, it would be utterly unfun. For both you, and me."
Ignacia stepped down from the railing.
At the same time she vanished, only to appear behind Dahit.
"But say I did lend you superlative magic. What would you give me in return?"
"The conclusion of the research that will make my Ideal a reality."
Dahit turned his head, gazing back over his shoulder at Ignacia.
His dark-gray eyes gleamed with madness.
"The hierarchy of magic I have interpreted. I will reveal to you the essence of that 'concept'."
"Oh my."
Ignacia broke into a wide smile.
It was a grin steeped in madness.
The illusory world collapsed back into its original form.
"That… I want to hear in detail."
***
To make Dahit Wethroel step onto the stage himself, one had to infiltrate the grand hall, the very heart of Black Hour.
Clearing her throat once, Melard began to lay things out in orderly fashion.
"Black Hour was originally founded for magic research. Though now it has become a transcendent force called the group of death mages, its roots remain."
She pressed her hand to her face.
Wiping away the faint tracks of tears that lingered.
"Our first members were those who believed themselves the best in their respective fields of magic. It was arrogance, but also pride."
Even while dying from his mana circuits being torn apart, Harkan Dazest created Celestial Magic, and the potions upon which it was founded.
Melard Tastienne, with her lower body paralyzed, gathered those who shared her will and founded a rare anti–magic tower force known as the Society.
Verden thought.
'The founding members of Black Hour numbered eight in total. If the others were on par with those two…'
That was no mere gathering anymore.
Though they lacked an infinite power source, their potential could have rivaled a magic tower.
Melard continued speaking.
"Dahit was, the common disciple of those founding members. He inherited everything we had built at the time."
"…"
"Before being a mighty transcendent, he is one who researches magic. To be blunt, he has skill surpassing mine, and a relentless obsession, an overwhelming…"
At the end, Melard almost attached the phrase 'unprecedented genius', but swallowed it back.
If Dahit was such an existence, then what kind of being was Verden, who had attained transcendence in his twenties?
For her, even finding words to describe Verden's talent was burdensome.
"Melard?"
"Ah, forgive me, Your Holiness. I lost myself for a moment."
Melard lightly shook her head, brushing away her thoughts.
"Staying in one place feels a little stifling. Shall we take a walk? The weather has cleared again. Heras, if you would."
"Yes, Sage."
Heras, who had experienced the stature of a transcendent, steadied himself once more as he stepped forward, pushing Melard's wheelchair slowly from behind.
Though his gaze was set afar, his awareness was fixed right beside him.
'Asher… no, to think Lord Verden was a transcendent. Perhaps it was after his robe changed from platinum to black.'
With silent approval from the two, Heras listened attentively to the conversation.
His heart pounded fiercely.
From being a test subject of the magic tower to reaching transcendence… what kind of life, what kind of talent, could that possibly be? It defied imagination.
And by what reasoning had the master of Bohemirn Magic Tower allowed him to fall from disciple to test subject?
While Heras was lost in such thoughts, the conversation continued.
"The grand hall of Black Hour is a laboratory. Over long years, a natural cavern was remodeled, and from ruined ancient artifacts, we extracted partial engraving functions to craft artificial artifacts installed throughout. It is no exaggeration to call it the culmination of Black Hour's methods and resources."
Melard's voice carried longing and pride.
"And in the deepest part of the grand hall, everything of Black Hour is kept. Namely, the records."
"Records?"
"The so-called [Hourglass of Perpetuity]. An artificial artifact the leader devoted half his life to complete, within which is stored every research record since Black Hour's founding."
Melard added an explanation.
"Shielded from the flow of time, and from external changes or shocks, not even the slightest damage can touch them."
For a group that delved deeply into magic, the preservation of research records was no small burden.
The magic towers, by sheer volume alone, could fill entire libraries.
Safety was also a critical issue.
For instance, when the power source ran wild and wiped out all the achievements of Bohemirn Magic Tower, if data were lost for some reason, recovery would be impossible.
In that sense, the function of the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] could not be underestimated.
"Once empty inside, the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] was gradually filled with the completed research of each Black Hour mage. Like a rite. And whenever new records were added, we applauded without reserve for that mage."
"So it served both as a recording device, and as a symbol. A meaningful object indeed."
Verden asked.
"Then stealing the [Hourglass of Perpetuity], seizing all of Black Hour's research, would be the way to lure Dahit?"
"After Dahit seized Black Hour, all subsequent research records would have been stored in the hourglass as well. It's efficient. If it were lost, the repercussions for Black Hour would be immense. Especially for Dahit himself."
"That may be so, but… isn't that insufficient by itself to set the stage for deciding Black Hour's leader?"
A good deal of time had passed since Dahit took over Black Hour.
'By now, few would dare rebel against him, and he's even drawn in a great number of new mages.'
Even if one triumphed over Dahit, the chances of rebellion were high.
The force would crumble in an instant.
To prevent that, a foundation within Black Hour that accepted and supported Verden's existence was indispensable.
Then, Melard added.
"Your Holiness's concern is understandable, but you need not worry. We already have countermeasures. What we require now is a 'focal point'."
"You mean…"
"Though not comparable to Your Holiness, I too have not wasted the years."
It seemed she had prepared a way to replace and absorb the current power of Black Hour.
'This is something I must trust as her collaborator.'
Just as Melard did not pry too deeply into Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Verden did not press further, but answered with a nod.
Yet still, one unresolved doubt remained.
"But if the grand hall makes use of engraving functions… doesn't that mean there's a master who controls the entire hall?"
"Yes, originally the leader held the first authority of control, and each founding member held the same second authority."
However.
"With the leader's death, that right was lost… Dahit would have acquired the first authority through the engravings. Unless Dahit is killed, any entry from the outside would inevitably be detected. Spatial movement through coordinates is impossible."
The grand hall was not protected by spatial distortion.
But the moment it was observed from outside, its coordinates would shift.
To attempt a transfer based on coordinates alone would fail, or perhaps lead to disastrous consequences.
Spatial teleportation, while convenient, required the utmost caution.
Verden stroked his chin.
"Random coordinate shifts upon observation, how unique. It seems there's no choice but direct assault, unless there's another method?"
"Hoho, if the grand hall detects external observation… then one must attempt spatial observation by means the hall cannot perceive, mustn't one?"
"Does such an artifact exist?"
"There is such a place. And the only one who knows the way there, is a single acquaintance of mine."
Melard gazed out at the blue sea.
"On that day, four of the founding members escaped the grand hall. One died at my side, Harkan was buried by Your Holiness. And the other… was alone. As he lay dying from wounds, weakened beyond measure, only one hand was extended to him."
Her eyes grew clouded with sorrow.
"Before I introduce him, I must ask Your Holiness one thing."
Suddenly, Verden felt a sense of déjà vu.
───That is because you, sir, are a very strong man. Demons usually prey upon the weak. Like my wife.
The sculptor Jose, living in a mountain cabin by the blue range.
Verden's guess was right.
"What does Your Holiness think of demons?"
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