The status of a wizard on this continent had a rather peculiar structure.
Like in many fantasy worlds, wizards generally held high status—but those who belonged to a Tower eventually rose to a position equal to noble authority. This was not simply due to differences in magical skill. It was because of the Tower itself.
There were only six Towers in the world, and they monopolized the production of various essential goods for the United Kingdom—goods even high nobles relied upon.
A wizard's combat prowess combined with a Tower's economic influence elevated their standing to the level of nobility.And above them stood the Vice Tower Master, whose authority was said to pierce the heavens.
Even knowing that…
"Isn't this treatment a bit much?"
Alon stared at the Vice Tower Master with his usual calm, emotionless expression.
The woman before him sat slouched in her chair—long blue hair cascading to her waist, a blue cloak draped over her shoulders. She supported her chin with one hand, twirling a pen in the other, looking as though the entire world exhausted her.
Penia Crysinne.
In Psychedelia, she appeared once or twice as a genius who, at twenty-two, reached 7th Rank—a monster with an Origin.
But at this point in time, before the story began, she was not yet Tower Master. She was 6th Rank.
"…As I said earlier, I've come to talk about the Shimon," Alon said.
"What about it?" she replied without lifting her gaze from her documents.
"I can get rid of it."
Penia stiffened for a moment. Her eyes flicked toward him—full of curiosity—then she clicked her tongue in disappointment.
"Well, if that's everything, you can leave."
"…I haven't heard your answer."
"What answer?"
"I said I can eliminate the Shimon."
"Ha."
Her lips twisted into a mocking smile.
"Excuse me, who are you again?"
"Count Palatio, Alon."
"So Count Palatio claims he can get rid of the Shimon?"
"Yes."
"Oh, I see~, Count Palatio can get rid of the Shimon. Wonderful."
"…Why are you acting like that?"
Penia scoffed, shaking her head.
"Do you think you're the first one to say that? How many people do you think have come here wanting the treasure you get from eliminating the Shimon?"
"I'm not lying. If you guide me to it, I'll show you."
"And how many have said that exact sentence?"
"I can definitely get rid of it."
Penia dropped her pen.
Crack—
A wave of uncontrolled magic burst from her.Not a spell—just raw emotion.
The entire office trembled. Scrolls and parchments toppled from shelves. The air shook.
"Excuse me," Alon said.
"It's already spreading that you only became Count because some trash heirs conveniently died," she hissed in a low voice. "But coming here and causing trouble—are you desperate?"
Alon realized two things clearly.
First—she was shockingly well-informed about the outside world.Second—the irritation he'd felt earlier had vanished, crushed by the overwhelming magical pressure.
She's terrifying.
Even as a 2nd Rank wizard, Alon knew:
If Penia wanted to kill him, it would not take effort.
"If you don't trust me," Alon said softly, "I'll stake my entire fortune."
Penia blinked. "…What?"
"If I fail, everything belonging to House Palatio is yours. Personally."
"What kind of nonsense—"
"You don't need to stake anything. Only me. I can swear an oath."
Penia frowned deeply.
"…Write up a contract."
Penia Crysinne, prodigy of the Blue Tower, led Alon deep underground.
"It's here. Once you open this door, the Shimon is inside."
Alon reached for the handle immediately.
"Remember," Penia warned, "we have a contract. If you fail, the Palatio fortune is mine."
Alon looked back at her with eyes devoid of emotion.
"There's no chance of that happening."
Creak—
He entered the room.
Penia remained at the doorway, recalling the rumors that followed him.
Once, he'd been suspected of murdering the other heirs to become Count.But over the years, people had begun to believe he simply became Count by coincidence—a lucky fool.
After meeting him, Penia found the latter more believable.
He had an unusual atmosphere—cold, unreadable—but that was all.
His talent was merely slightly above average.His mana core was small.He was barely 2nd Rank.And crucially—
He lacked the Eyes, the talent needed to surpass 6th Rank.
To her eyes, he was completely ordinary.
That he came here claiming he could erase the Shimon only proved he was a delusional idiot.
Penia clicked her tongue and glanced toward the center of the room.
The Shimon.
A purple glowing rift—connected to an unknown subspace.
Shimon caused disasters. Dimensional beings emerging, mana vacuums forming, explosions of magic… Wizards had tried countless methods to erase them.
None succeeded.
They simply disappeared naturally after 1–3 months, leaving a relic.
But this one had persisted for over two years.
Penia watched Alon approach it… standing still… doing nothing.
Just as she was about to mock him—
Tap.
He raised one hand.
A primitive Wisdom Fist Seal.
A method from outdated texts. Worthless. Ridiculous.
"What are you—"
"Just come out," Alon whispered.
Penia frowned. She was about to interrupt.
And then—
Everything stopped.
Everything.
Her voice.Breath.Body.Thoughts.
She saw it emerge.
Screeeech—
A pitch-black entity peeled itself out of the rift.
An eyeball with two red rings.It stared at her.
Her Eyes—her talent—instinctively sought its nature.
And she understood only one thing.
A concept so pure it could be expressed in a single word—a concept she must never comprehend.
"Ghh—!"
Penia forcibly stopped her own thoughts, cutting her cognition with magic.
She knew:
Understanding that thing meant death.
The eyeball smiled.
A black hand appeared, pressing two fingers gently to her lips.
A gesture of silence.
Then—it vanished.
The Shimon disappeared.
Magic dissipated.
Alon exhaled lightly.
"It's done."
To him, closing a Shimon—something he had done countless times in the game—was trivial.
After all, Shimon weren't closed with magic, but with something entirely different—
"I—I won't tell anyone."
"…? I mean, thank you, but—"
"I swear I won't tell a soul! I'm very good at keeping secrets!"
She nodded frantically, breath trembling, eyes watery.
Alon simply tilted his head.
"…?"
He had absolutely no idea why she was suddenly like this.