The elderly mage was trembling with rage but dared not act recklessly against Rudeus. Although his fame did not quite reach the heights of Marsvell's, it was not far behind. If one were to ask whom the Department of Crime Management feared hunting most, the name Marsvell would sit at the very top, with Rudeus following closely in second.
"What are you cursing for? Hmph, has a small matter driven an old man like you to such fury?" Rudeus's aged face twisted into a look of disdain, appearing both terrifying and mocking.
The elderly mage took a deep breath. "Rudeus, step aside. This is not a place where you can simply do as you please," he said in a low voice. Though his palms were sweating, he remained stubborn and unyielding.
The surrounding air grew heavy, and the mana radiating from the two mages blanketed the entire barrier. Freelance and initiate mages collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as the mana within their bodies vibrated violently, though not enough to make them explode where they stood.
Rudeus watched the elderly mage struggling to stand firm before him, his lips tightening slightly. He withdrew his pressure and began to walk forward, speaking slowly. "Fine, whatever. Old Marsvell doesn't need this old man anyway. I'm not one to meddle in others' business. Deal with your own affairs."
His figure vanished into the void, his aged back appearing more hunched with every step.
Inside the building, Mary and Tirian sat quietly in their chairs, their eyes fixed on every page of the book. Tirian asked curiously, "Mary, I don't think I've ever heard this story before. Can you tell it to me?"
Mary looked at her and giggled. "Hehe, I've almost forgotten it all too. How about we read from the beginning?"
Tirian remained silent, looking at her friend with a look of helplessness while pinching Mary's chubby cheeks. "Mary, you silly girl."
"Eh?"
After their brief exchange, they both became absorbed in the tale. It told of a witch named Marylin, who used her magic to aid suffering people wherever she traveled. This particular chapter focused on her journey to the home of the spirits, the land of Gradol. There, she found a spirit named Entorin, who was shunned by his kind because his eye color and wings were vastly different from normal spirits.
Marylin used her words to comfort Entorin and then used her magic to help him integrate with the other spirits. At the end of the story, Entorin gave Marylin a necklace featuring a beautifully carved red crystal. Marylin happily accepted it and bid Entorin farewell. The story ended there.
The two girls were so focused they didn't realize Marsvell had been standing across from them for some time. He smiled as he placed a plate of biscuits and two cups of black tea on the table silently, careful not to distract them. He then turned away and disappeared behind a row of books.
Marsvell reappeared outside immediately after Rudeus left. He stood facing the gazes of the gathered mages—some filled with fear, others with terror, and some with admiration.
Small bubbles began to manifest behind him, the signature mark of his Fairy Tale Magic. Across from him, the elderly mage broke into a cold sweat as memories flashed through his mind.
Seventy years ago, a young man with brilliant golden hair and an aura of carefree elegance stood apart from his peers. That was a young Marsvell. Back then, he was a force of nature. In a legendary feat, he faced six Reapers of Dark Magic alone and used his original magic to execute three of them, turning the tide of the entire war. From then on, his legend spread among mages of all ages and genders.
But when the war ended, that genius mage vanished mysteriously. No one knew why.
Now, standing before the elderly mage was that very war god. Though he had aged significantly, his combat power seemed more formidable than ever. Releasing only thirty percent of his mana was enough to make the other mages feel as though death was beckoning.
The elderly mage struck his staff against the ground, creating a magical veil to protect those behind him and isolate Marsvell's mana. He panted slightly, yet a sense of calm replaced his panic. He did not believe Marsvell would dare to directly oppose the entire Magic Council. To show fear now would disgrace the Council's dignity, which was unacceptable to him.
"Marsvell Von Berigurence, the Council has issued an ultimatum. If you do not report to the High Parliament within three days, the Council will revoke your status and imprison you in the Eternal Dungeon forever."
Marsvell smiled, but the pressure he exerted intensified. The bubbles behind him caused space itself to warp as he spoke politely. "Mr. Henry, isn't that a bit against the regulations? I may have failed in my duties as a mage, but throwing me in prison seems a bit much, don't you think?"
"Not at all! You are the one who stole the Orb of Oblivion and the Council's Barrier Magic. It's because of them that you've hidden for forty years, is it not? Do you have anything else to say?"
Marsvell shrugged mockingly. "I truly can't believe it. What are your Seer mages even doing? It took forty years to find me. I suggest you reconsider your staffing choices."
"Marsvell! Stop stalling! Do you accept the summons?!"
Marsvell withdrew his magic. As the energy flowed back into his body, the mages behind Henry breathed a sigh of relief. The sheer pressure of a legend was extraordinary.
Marsvell waved his hand, preparing to head back inside. "Wait for me. I'll be sure to catch the train tomorrow."
As his final words faded into the air, the building's door closed. The elderly mage exhaled sharply, his right hand trembling as it gripped his staff.
"Well... I really ought to ask the Council for more research funding after this..."