Chapter 527 - Purge (2)
In the vast corridor leading to the Grand Hall of the Great Hall, the entirety of Black Hour stood arrayed in perfect order.
The atmosphere was graver than when the sudden war with the Bohemirn Magic Tower had erupted.
The hundreds of Mages gathered here were focused on a single event taking place in the Capital of Ruin.
A clash of past and present.
The legitimate succession that would decide the head seat of Black Hour.
A magical battle between two Transcendents.
Among them were many who had no connection to the old usurpation of Black Hour, but… not a few who did. The latter were divided into those who had betrayed, or those who had succumbed to power.
Yet regardless of classification, most of their predictions were the same.
'Today, the leader of Black Hour will not change.'
For the one who had completely ruled this death-wielding order with power and terror, one of the Transcendents reigning over the Western Continent.
Not only had he annihilated the Kingdom of Ailan and destroyed the power source of the Bohemirn Magic Tower, but after waging a war and a series of skirmishes against the Western Continent's Magic Tower Alliance, he had single-handedly massacred half of the leadership of the Diamoon Magic Tower—such was Amwol.
Who could possibly slay him.
...!
It was the hour when the high sun sank and vanished, and night descended. Beyond the colossal doors, spatial ripples stirred within the Grand Hall.
As expected, it was Amwol returning from the magical duel, having erased his rival Transcendent, and with him Black Hour's extermination squad who had dealt with their forces.
Hundreds of Mages straightened their backs as one, correcting their posture.
"Your time ends here."
"..."
From the front of the ranks, one of the two high-ranking officers, 'Adwan', cast a scornful glance downward with derision.
Before him, kneeling in shackles, were the high officer 'Olnord', who in the previous council had faltered upon seeing Melard, unable to forget the past, and three lesser officers.
By Maybel's order, two of the four would be executed as an example.
Creeeak, boom!
At last, the long-awaited entrance of the Grand Hall swung open. As they stepped forth without hesitation—
"So this is the Sub-layer of the Great Hall. It feels very different from the Deep Layer, doesn't it?"
"!"
A woman's voice.
Unfamiliar.
Completely unlike the voice of the highest officer, Maybel.
When Adwan raised his gaze, eight Mages dressed entirely unlike Black Hour stood upon the Grand Hall's dais.
'No, not just them…!'
Besides them, including ceiling and floor, nearly twenty more Mages were deliberately releasing their magic power, filling all blind spots.
Intruders had breached the Great Hall.
Since the founding of Black Hour, this was already the second intrusion—ever since the theft of the [Hourglass of Perpetuity] from the deepest part of the Deep Layer a few months prior.
As murmurs swelled, Olnord muttered in a daze.
"Grave, Alderneys, Opea… h-how are you here…?"
Recognizing familiar faces, he hurriedly turned his head to look around. Now he saw—seventeen of the intruders were the remnants of Black Hour, survivors who had barely fled decades ago.
Other Mages besides Olnord, who remembered them, gasped. The defeated ones, however, only returned fleeting glances, without a word.
Then, Adwan activated his mana circuits, drawing forth his ornate staff. The Mages under his command followed suit, assuming battle stances.
"To think you would use some trick to once again stain this Great Hall with your filthy presence…! Answer me. Where are Lord Carindin, Lady Maybel, and above all, Amwol!"
"You already know, don't you? By now."
Descending the steps at a measured pace, Isabella spoke firmly as the representative.
"Amwol, Dahit Wethroel, has been defeated, and the new successor, Verden, has triumphed. From this moment, the leader of Black Hour has changed."
At those words alone, the very air shifted, and the reactions of all Black Hour present splintered into countless directions.
Despair, excitement, disbelief, expectation, fury—emotions surged and clashed.
Isabella pressed on, her voice low and heavy.
"But our clan head has no plan to take you all in as you are. Nor does he intend to select the unfit and slaughter them without remainder. To kill and erase you all, that would be entirely contrary to the path the Transcendent who defeated Dahit Wethroel now pursues."
"What nonsense are you spouting───"
"The reason we came here, all the way, is to give some among you, who fall short of our clan head's standards, the first and last chance. A chance to live, and to walk a different path than before, under the 'Regulation' our clan head has set."
The Verden of the past had been filled with hatred toward human experimentation, yet the ideal embraced by Verden the Transcendent was not the wholesale massacre of those who had committed such vile acts.
The greater the action, the greater the reaction.
The more ruthless Verden was, the more fiercely the world would burn.
'That's why what matters is planting the "ideology", he said.'
A force so strong that it could suppress even Transcendent factions capable of conducting human experiments in secret, like the Bohemirn Magic Tower.
Though Isabella had never heard Verden articulate his ideal in full, she vaguely understood what it signified.
But of course, within that ideal, there was no option of lightly passing over those who had carried out human experiments.
Her golden eyes gleamed as she looked straight at the hundreds before her.
"From this moment, any Mage who partook in human experimentation, or committed equivalent crimes, will have their mana circuits damaged. Permanently."
Die as a Mage, or die as a living being.
The only punishment was death.
***
How could nobles with corrupt yet immense power commit atrocities against civilians and still walk proudly.
How could powerful Mages, having cast aside all ethics, conduct human experiments and still hold their heads high.
Because they were strong.
When the other side possessed strength so great that law did not apply, the weak could only suffer. That was the difference between the two.
But.
What if that strength was stripped away.
Could they still bend the weak at will, making them fodder for selfish desires.
They could not.
Because then they were weak.
Such was the presence or absence of power.
***
The members of Black Hour began to murmur.
To damage the mana circuits.
Confusion spread like wildfire.
It was literally beyond magical comprehension. To tamper with mana circuits risked crippling or killing.
Isabella spoke.
"Even if I destroy your mana circuits, you won't die. At my level, I can control it with ease. And even if you cannot wield magic power, you can still research magic, can you not? Isn't that so?"
The higher a Mage's tier, the more, depending on whether they pioneered Mado, their potential for advanced magical research widened.
Yet having a lower realm… even not being a Mage at all, did not mean they could not study such magics. For knowledge, in its essence, could never be fully measured.
Of course, it was a path arduous and harsh beyond words.
An aged Mage, who had assisted in the refinement of
"Y-you've gone mad…!! To forcibly reduce us to mere mortals! That is no different than telling us to die!"
"Then just die. I'll give you ten minutes, plenty of time to think it over. And afterward, I'll verify your inner strength, so abandon any thought of deceiving your way out."
An uncompromising decree.
Watching her, Yurgien, the sole elder of the Ostea Magic Tower, whispered to Medrant Keden, tower master of Ostea and Sage of Guardianship.
"Hah, such a bold, brave, and beautiful woman. Isabella, was it? If only I could introduce her to my grandson."
"Silence."
Yurgien had come not as part of Society, but solely out of loyalty to Medrant's safety.
Meanwhile, countless judgments were clashing in each mind.
Those bound by the Regulation were filled with disbelief at Dahit's death, and with determination to resist under Adwan.
Those not bound wavered in doubt, wondering how to act, whether Dahit truly had been defeated.
It was an elder who broke the stillness.
"…Since the day of the usurpation, I have bent knee to Dahit Wethroel. And under his orders, I have committed magical experiments devoid of all ethics and morals. Survival was the first principle, and I allowed myself to be led by circumstance. Truly pitiful, and shameful."
With his footsteps, the chains of his shackles clattered loudly. Adwan bared killing intent to stop him, but he paid it no heed.
The elder, Olnord, came before Isabella and knelt.
"That is why, at least this time, I wish to choose the remainder of my life myself. Thus… I willingly abandon the realm I have built."
Olnord, as a high officer, was a Magus at the lower end of the 6th tier.
For him to accept the damage of his mana circuits was no different than casting aside his entire life.
"Your name?"
"Olnord. Just Olnord."
"Olnord. Very well, it seems you are worthy to receive the opportunity our clan head has granted."
Isabella laid her left hand upon Olnord's head.
"Lower your magic resistance as much as possible. That way, it will end quickly."
Olnord nodded, relinquishing all resistance.
Tzzzzzt.
At once, the jewel of [Elderron] responded, and the Arcane of Corrosion opened. His defenseless mana circuits were swiftly consumed. As Isabella lightly pressed her hand, a scream burst forth.
It was a short cry.
"Kh, huk. Huhuk…!"
Collapsed forward, Olnord gasped raggedly. The cold of the floor met his brow. His life was untouched, yet his mana circuits alone had been destroyed with perfect precision.
"M-my mana…"
Mana still lingered in his heart, yet he could no longer feel the circuits to channel it. A suffocating sense of loss wrapped around his entire being.
But far greater than that was the relief of finally casting off, if only a fraction, the old guilt he had carried for so long.
"Haha… at last… at last I can research magic in peace… yes… like those days, when it was pure, and dear…"
Olnord let out a small laugh, then lost consciousness, the pain having been too severe even for a moment.
Silently, Alderneys stepped forward, supporting his old comrade, and moved him to a corner.
The time remaining was about eight minutes.
Someone raised a hand.
"Excuse me, I have a question."
High officer, Revana.
The mage of the Enchantment school who, together with Carindin, had once battled Adrian and Isabella in the Deep Layer of Black Hour.
"What should become of those members of Black Hour who do not fall under that Regulation?"
"Stand over there and wait. Best not to get caught up needlessly."
"Very well."
Revana led her Mages to the left side of the Grand Hall. Seeing this, Adwan's eyes widened.
"Revana, you cur… what do you think you're doing?"
"The news of Amwol's death is clearly true, Adwan."
"What?"
"Stubborn pride won't mean a thing now."
Specialized in the mental arts, Revana could tell Isabella's words contained no notable falsehood.
"And those who ever touched human experimentation, or crimes on that level, make up about forty percent of Black Hour, right? Then what reason does the remaining sixty percent have not to acknowledge the new leader? I don't. Though… you, obviously, don't."
Black Hour had fractured.
It was the inevitable rot born of being a faction that existed only for Dahit. And now, following Revana, more began accepting the outcome.
Some even chose to abandon their realm, just to preserve their lives. Others, like Olnord, could not free themselves from the weight of past guilt.
Isabella asked.
"You're Adwan, yes? You look like a high officer. So then, what's your decision?"
To forsake magic and prolong life, or to disbelieve and resist.
The choice was simple.
"Amwol is dead? How dare you. Do you think we would be swayed by such lies!"
Adwan burst into rage at once, hurling forth an intense globe of storm. His direct subordinates, including two lesser officers, all raised their mana in unison, following his lead.
It was an outright rejection.
"A pity."
Though the allotted time was not yet over, since he had struck first, there was no choice but to respond.
As an example, it was not a bad one.
Mado
Medrant formed two veils, blocking the initial strike and cutting off Adwan's escape route for the moment.
Everyone else unleashed their Mado.
Mado
Mado
Mado
Mado
...
Sensing a power far greater than expected, Adwan's eyes bulged.
"From the look on your face, you're pretty shocked. But it's already too late, you know?"
Unia raised her staff, Ultima.
Unia consumed a satellite of Mado, sweeping forward with an enhanced spiral storm of gravity.
His nearby underlings were blown away, leaving Adwan isolated.
Huff!
Now Alderneys's delicate airflow disrupted Adwan's storm, scattering its control, whipping his hair.
Through that gap, Cain and Grave reached Adwan's side.
Shaaak! Puk!
The mana-charged blade aura of the demon sword, Cretima, carved a deep wound across his shoulder, and Grave, shifting through space, thrust his shortsword through Adwan's side.
"Urgh…!!"
Quadra-casting.
Suppressing a death scream, Adwan computed a spell, enshrouding himself in a thick
He had bought himself protection… but it was nothing more than a brief spasm.
Isabella's Brilliant Eyes flared as [Elderron] activated.
"I will seize even the foundation."
Her mana responded to the incantation, breaking down into infinitesimal particles, smaller than dust.
With her Brilliant Eyes visualizing essence itself, she identified the core of the spell, then infused her scattered mana to seize it whole.
This was domination not just interference, but complete occupation of a "thing"—the true intent of the accessory pioneered by Linus.
Its power could reach even Transcendents.
Thus Isabella had overcome the weakness of her Mado—vulnerability to peers or superiors—through the perfection of [Elderron].
The immense, layered barrier of storm scattered without resistance. Adwan's mind still thought he was casting, but no defense remained.
Isabella advanced.
Craaaaack!
"Ghuuuuhhhk…uk…!!!"
The icy claws of Mado pierced Adwan's abdomen. His body began to freeze from the inside out.
The wet sound of boiling phlegm echoed by her ear.
Twisting the claws formed in her left hand brutally, Isabella swung her right, which gripped Adwan's head.
Rip—Adwan split apart.
At the collapse of a high officer, slain by the combined assault of numerous 6th-tier Mages, all others froze.
"Five minutes remain."
Isabella crushed Adwan's cold corpse underfoot, restarting the countdown.
***
With each layer of the encirclement breached, their numbers dwindled further.
Some vanished outright, others were struck down, still others scattered and fled to shake pursuit. The causes varied.
What was clear was this: unable to recover from the shock of Dahit's death, Black Hour's extermination squad could not mount any meaningful resistance.
Their broken morale was fatal.
By now, midnight was long past.
Dawn was deep.
"…Looks like we lost them."
Carindin, face drenched in sweat, crouched behind a tree and scanned the surroundings.
At his side, Maybel poured a top-grade potion over the gash on her arm, then looked back on the path they had come.
"Not all of them, but at least half must be down."
"The numbers mattered, but above all, it was a sudden ambush. And why the former War Lord was among them, I cannot fathom. More than anything, to think they could conceal mana to that extent… that they could seize control of the magic circle… it was utterly unforeseen."
"That artifact she wore on her left hand must be why. They were thoroughly prepared. We were well and truly struck. Melard must have been gnashing her teeth for some time."
Maybel exhaled, resting her head against the tree. As she tried to collect her tangled thoughts, one came to her.
"But tell me… do you think Melard was sincere, when she said we'd be spared if we surrendered?"
"Merely a scheme to capture us without bloodshed. Naturally, that's far more efficient in many ways."
"True enough. Well, whatever."
Maybel lifted her gaze to the sky, where a nearly lightless full moon had risen.
"Once, they were the ones fleeing like this, but now it's us. To think, after decades, the situation would reverse. So then, where do we go? If we seek asylum in the magic towers, we're finished."
"To the Magocracy of Akenine. There, the towers hold little sway, and there will be room enough for us."
"The Magocracy… that's a long way."
By rough estimate, using 5th-tier magic,
But given that Melard would not abandon the pursuit… they would need to move with utmost secrecy. Conservatively, it could take over a month.
"Still, no place better than the Magocracy…"
At that moment.
[ I gave you the chance to take responsibility, but it was you who refused. ]
Melard's voice rang out. They stiffened instantly, turning their heads. The crunch of footsteps in snow brushed their ears.
Someone was walking forth from the moonlit forest. His face was uncovered once more, yet they knew at once who it was.
Ache—
The same swordsman who had cut through Carindin's ribs back in the Great Hall.
[ Carindin Lerhar. Maybel Risonia Siller. ]
From Adrian's bracelet, Melard's final message resounded.
[ I shall not see you off. ]
Schhhrring.
He drew the sword from his hip, held in reverse grip, a blade steeped in pale blue sword-qi.
The Light Sword, [Silendar].
Forged by Gharun from a dragon's talon, imbued with the qualities of the demon sword, Cadence, this artifact possessed extreme sharpness.
"My lord said so himself. A high-tier 6th-rank Fire Magus, and a mid-tier 6th-rank Dark Magus—worthy experience before confronting the elders of the Bohemirn Magic Tower."
With a light step, Adrian shot forward, switching his reverse grip to proper form as he spun.
"You die here."
New Moon.
Beneath the dark full moon, a violet crescent split the horizon.