"Oh." The Grand Sage showed no surprise, continuing to calmly flip through the documents on the desk. "Who have you caught now? A spy from the Haligtree Army? Or some hidden rat?" "No, it is a sorcerer from Raya Lucaria Academy." The Grand Sage nodded subconsciously. Suddenly, his hand paused in the middle of turning a page, and he snapped his head up. "Who did you say it was??"
Leather boots struck the floor with a dull thud, and a group of people wearing robes of various colors came down the corridor. Both sides of the corridor were already packed with Night Sorcerers, all holding staves with hands resting on their daggers, exuding a solemn and oppressive atmosphere in the silence. "Why are we being gathered in the middle of the night? What is going on?" "I have no idea.
The Grand Sage only said something important has happened." The sages whispered among themselves. Two individuals trailed at the back—one in blue robes, the other in red. They exchanged a glance, seeing the gravity in each other's eyes.
As sages with their own factions, their information network was far more efficient than the others, and they had already learned that an intruder had been caught in the swamp. But seeing this posture as if facing a great enemy, they felt it was far from as simple as the report suggested. The two moved their lips silently, yet they understood each other's meaning. "Gowry, did you mess up?"
"Impossible. At the very least, it wasn't my people who did it." The gaunt man in red robes shook his head. Looking straight ahead, he continued, "But yesterday, one of the Kindred of Rot was killed. Judging by the evidence, it was done with Glintstone Sorcery." The pupils of the blue-robed sage with the prominent aquiline nose constricted.
Violent killing intent gathered in his eyes, as if he had transformed from a sage into a butcher in an instant. "Why did you hide this?!" "Apologies, Lord Campore. There are still doubts about this matter, and they are not under my control." Gowry bowed slightly, his posture clearly very low. Though both were sages, he and Campore were worlds apart.
The latter was a remnant of the Primeval Sorcerers in Sellia, a stubborn ailment that even General Radahn could not eradicate, while he was merely a polymath known for his knowledge. True Primeval Sorcerers were known for slaughter, and to them, their peers were nothing more than materials. However, Campore could not afford to be angry, as the long corridor had reached its end.
A burly Redmane Knight guarded the doorway, pushing the sense of foreboding in the sages' hearts to the extreme. The weary-looking Grand Sage Edred stood beside the knight. He pressed his hands down to quiet the crowd, forcing himself to muster some energy as he said, "Apologies for gathering everyone so late." None of the dozen or so sages spoke; they all waited quietly for his explanation.
"Tonight, while patrolling, Knight Aila discovered a sorcerer being hunted." The Grand Sage swallowed, adding for the confused crowd, "According to preliminary observations, this is a sorcerer from the Oritis Classroom of Raya Lucaria Academy." What? The sages looked at each other.
Of course they knew of this classroom; as one of the oldest in the Academy, its founder had originally gone there from Sellia. But time had passed, and the two sides had little contact. Letters had arrived previously, and the upper echelons of Sellia already knew that some things had happened at the Academy. But how had they come here, and why were they being hunted?
"Lord Grand Sage, are you sure?" Hearing someone ask, Edred cast his gaze over. Seeing it was Gowry, he frowned slightly. He disliked this fellow who had mediocre magical ability but loved to be contrarian. "Tentatively confirmed, which is why I called everyone here to take a look together and, incidentally, to find out why he was being hunted."
His fingers interlaced over his abdomen as his gaze swept the room. "Sellia and Raya Lucaria are allies. Killing someone beneath our very noses shows utter disrespect." Each word carried deliberate weight. Raya Lucaria Academy had traveled thousands of miles—there would be more than one envoy.
The mention of being hunted marked this as no ordinary matter. Campore's eyes flicked to Gowry again. The man stood bewildered, brow furrowed. Campore stepped past the Grand Sage without permission and twisted the door handle. The older man raised an eyebrow but offered no rebuke. The wooden door groaned open.
Inside the lounge, a Perfumer in a stained apron guarded the entrance. At the room's center lay a single bed where a sorcerer reclined, the distinctive Oritis mask still covering his face. A square table beside the bed held standard-issue Academy robes and a Glintstone staff. Textbook Raya Lucaria rigidity. Down to the last ridiculous detail.
When had they arrived? Who hunted them? The opposition leader looked equally confused as the sages filed in, packing the small lounge to bursting. One sage squinted at the masked figure. "Why strip the robes but keep the mask on?"
"Typical Academy behavior."
"Unless they're dead, those masks stay glued on."
Nods all around. Every Sellian knew of Raya Lucaria's pathological obsessions.
As the sages scrutinized Throne, he studied them in return—though his gaze trembled like a cornered rabbit. Gowry. Just as expected, the bastard had been lurking here all along.
And the blue-robed sage beside him? Dangerous. Throne catalogued the threat an instant before that very sage strode to his bedside.
"Who are you?"
No scholarly affectation. Just the flat tone of a man accustomed to killing.
The aura hit Throne like a physical blow. He froze, systems crashing.
Laughter erupted through the room. Even the skeptical sages now seemed eighty percent convinced. Sellia despised Raya Lucaria's weakness as much as the Academy scorned Sellia's impurity. This cowering performance fit their prejudices perfectly.
"Lord Campore." The Grand Sage's light cough silenced the room. "Our allies deserve better courtesy. Modern Academy recruits lack Sellian steel." He approached the bed with practiced benevolence. "I am Grand Sage Edred. This incident requires clarification. You will answer my questions."
The kindly old man act rebooted Throne's faculties. He scrambled upright, executing a flawless Academy salute. Every motion spoke of drilled perfection, his voice dripping with that distinctive scholarly cadence.
"Vane Karl, Level Two Lecturer of the Oritis Classroom. My research focuses on stellar-Glintstone correlations and the practical applications of astral sorcery—"
"Your credentials aren't in question, Lecturer Vane." Edred cut him off. Only a true Academy man would vomit theory at a time like this. The verification was complete.
Actually, it wouldn't have mattered even if he had the entire roster of Raya Lucaria Academy. This wasn't just spouting nonsense; Throne had read a vast number of papers while at the Academy and had memorized the research content of every author. However, Throne's gaze suddenly became disdainful, as if despising these crude Sellians, which was infuriating but also convincing.
The identity was not an issue, so the next part was easy. "How did you come to Caelid?" "Because Stormveil was blockaded, the Glintstone Dragon Smarag transported us here. We landed in northern Caelid and then traveled south in secret." "Why not come directly to Sellia?" "The Redmane Army is hunting dragons in the north, and we were afraid of being caught in the crossfire."
The Grand Sage was stunned for a moment, then nodded. This made sense; Raya Lucaria Academy was an ally of Sellia, not of the Redmane Army. As far as he knew, the Academy treasured that Glintstone Dragon very much. "Very well, Lecturer Vane. Now, please tell us, what was your mission, and why are you the only one who arrived in Sellia?" "We are here to capture the traitor Sellen."
"What crime did she commit?" Edred leaned forward, staring intently at the other person. "I do not know, but she and an unidentified traitor caused major losses to the Academy. Professor Oritis wanted Sellia to assist in the capture." Throne answered honestly, though he sneered inwardly. This old fellow looked harmless, but every word was a trap.
A Level 2 Lecturer could not possibly know about the Primeval Sorcerers; if he let that slip, he would be as good as dead. Throne, carefully weighing every word, licked his lips, his voice becoming low: "This mission was led by Yug, a Level 1 Lecturer of the Haima Classroom. We bypassed the dragons and avoided the Redmane Army, only to fall at the hands of our allies!" "Who did it?"
The sorcerer fell silent. He was conflicted, hesitant, and then, when Edred pressed for the second time, this conflict turned into anger. As if he had cast caution to the wind, he raised a trembling finger and pointed at the sages who were watching the drama unfold. "It was you Night Sorcerers!" The ones who slaughtered the Raya Lucaria Academy delegation were Night Sorcerers?
Throne's words were earth-shattering, stunning the sages who were watching the show into looking at each other. That wasn't right; how did the drama turn on them? But that anger, suppressed to the extreme, was so real that no one jumped out to accuse him on the spot. The 'Grand Sage' Edred was stunned, then frowned deeply. "How do you know it was Night Sorcerers?"
Throne took a deep breath and said coldly, "Black magic pebbles attacked from behind. Before Lord Yug died, he told me it was called 'Night Shard,' which is one of Sellia's Night Sorceries. Do you still wish to deny it?" The Battlemage of Haima, Yug, was truly unlucky; because of Caria's counterattack, he was still struggling in Liurnia, and he had become a dead man for no apparent reason.
But this statement was extremely credible to the ears of the sages. The two sides had not interacted for a long time, so being able to accurately describe the spellcasting process meant he must have seen it. As for how he knew— The one who came to Sellia was the swordsman Throne.; what did that have to do with me, Vane Karl?
The highest realm of acting is to completely immerse oneself in the character. Anyway, the room full of old foxes didn't notice anything amiss, and Edred was even plunged into deep thought. It was true. The Night Sorcerers under his jurisdiction really had attacked an Academy delegation, and they were powerful. He had also heard of the name 'Battlemage' Yug.
He was the Academy's hidden ace, a master of Haima Classroom magic and battlefield annihilation. Even Sellia's most battle-hardened sages wouldn't dare claim they could best him. Yet this living weapon—along with an entire strike team—now lay buried in shallow graves. 'And this Level 2 Lecturer... his research profile screams combat specialization.'
The Academy didn't send fools. That hunting party represented their sharpest blade.
No explanation was needed. The Grand Sage understood Sellen's crimes better than anyone. This reeked of Primeval Sorcerer involvement.
The witch's trajectory pointed straight to Caelid. Her purpose here was obvious—to meet conspirators. Nothing else made sense. His gaze turned predatory, sweeping across the assembled sages, lingering on certain faces. "Lecturer Vane. Do you possess relevant intelligence?"
"I do." Throne's voice cut like flint. "But I won't share it."
He caught the glint of hostile eyes. When he looked up, they vanished.
"Understood." Edred's voice thickened. "Sellia will deliver justice. To you. To Raya Lucaria."
Throne remained silent, his stare corrosive with distrust. Naturally. From Vane Karl's perspective, no Night Sorcerer deserved faith.
"Let Lecturer Vane rest." Edred turned toward the exit. "Sages' conclave at dawn. Attendance mandatory."
The others studied Throne with weighted glances before filing out.
War loomed. This stranger had planted a live grenade in Sellia's powder keg, complicating their power struggles. His arrival was too convenient. Now he'd dragged distant factions into their conflict. Yet Sellia had no choice.
Throne watched them leave from his sickbed. Two figures held his attention.
The wandering merchant's second report had been clear:
Sellia's 'sages' were better termed 'councilors'—but like in those foreign dramas, the same title masked wild disparities in power. These two—
Gowry, the so-called sage of erudition. A glorified librarian with negligible influence.
The blue-robed one was different. Campore. Opposition leader. Champion of magical sovereignty, defiant against Radahn's rule. Commanded his own cadre of sorcerers. Even controlled a fiefdom—'Sages Town'—that forced Edred to tread carefully.
Only Radahn's preoccupation with greater wars kept Campore breathing. Otherwise, gravity magic would have crushed him long ago.
Behind his mask, Throne smirked. He slumped weakly against the pillows, ceiling tiles holding his gaze as he replayed the opening gambit. His infiltration skills were improving.
At Raya Lucaria, he'd worked through proxies. Here in Sellia? He'd played his ace immediately. 'Let's hope I never need that third report.'
He shut his eyes, surrendering to sleep despite the wolves circling his bed.
The sages dispersed beyond the ward, minds churning with schemes.
Edred finally found a reason to conduct an internal investigation. The Primeval Sorcerer connection demanded it. He trekked to the mountain's sealed mineshaft. The wards held. No trespassers. Through the Academy's glowing barrier, the Grand Sage glimpsed a figure hunched in the cavern's darkest corner.
The robe clung to his frame, its golden chest emblem pulsing with authority—higher than any magic professor's rank. Blue crystals crusted the fabric like frost on a winter window. The hood had fused into a perfect emerald sphere, flawless except for the jagged hole where an amber eye burned. One glance at the creeping crystal growth told the truth—soon, nothing would remain but a faceless gemstone statue.
"Seeking the Primeval only brings calamity. Even a great sage like you cannot escape fate." Edred's sigh hung in the air. Then he saw it—the golden eye swiveling to pin him in its gaze. The figure bowed, joints creaking like bending glass, and offered a sorcerer's salute no living man should know.