Mastermind
-3-

Chapter 101

Even as Alon’s head spun from the eight consecutive assassination threats from Deus, the dizziness was fleeting.

By the time Alon navigated through the throngs of mercenaries and adventurers to reach the edge of the jungle—

“Huh?”

Hearing a familiar voice, Alon turned his head.

“…Count—no, Marquess Palatio?”

“Liyan Aguilas?”

There stood Liyan Aguilas, the daughter of the Red Tower’s leader.

“It’s been so long, Marquess. Congratulations, by the way.”

“It has been a while. Thank you for the congratulations.”

Smiling warmly, Liyan shifted her gaze, only to have her eyes widen in surprise.

“…Surely, is that who I think it is behind you?”

“Deus Macallian.”

Picking up on the fact that Liyan seemed to know Alon, Deus introduced himself briefly.

Liyan, letting out a quiet wow in admiration, gave Deus a rather peculiar look before hastily clearing her throat.

“Ahem—so, what brings you two here together?”

Alon quickly discerned the two questions buried within her inquiry.

‘Given that we hail from different nations, it probably seems odd for us to be traveling together like this.’

Not to mention, Deus’s reputation preceded him.

“Our goals differ, but we’re accompanying each other to take care of business in the jungle,” Alon explained.

“Ah, I see. So, is it just the two of you?”

“No, there’s three of us,” Alon corrected.

At that, Liyan made a suggestion.

“Would you like to travel with us, then? Coincidentally, we’re also heading to our camp.”

“Hmm…”

Truthfully, with Deus around, whether they traveled as a trio or with a larger group, the likelihood of encountering danger seemed slim.

However, the possibility of losing their way or facing unforeseen circumstances wasn’t entirely out of the question.

“Not a bad idea.”

Alon accepted the proposal.

Shortly after, Liyan introduced the members of her group to Alon.

The party consisted of fifteen magicians, five mercenaries, and a single guide.

However, there was something unusual about the composition.

“…They’re not all from the Red Tower?”

“Technically, it’s a mix of Green and Red Tower personnel. This expedition is a joint collaboration between the two,” Liyan explained.

By the time Alon nodded at this explanation—

“What’s this?”

A slightly gruff voice sounded nearby.

Standing there was a man holding a staff as tall as himself, the epitome of what Alon thought a stereotypical magician looked like.

“Theon, come and greet our guests,” Liyan called out.

Though he furrowed his brows, the man approached, giving Alon, Evan, and Deus a quick once-over before speaking.

“Introduce yourself. They’ll be traveling with us to the camp. This is Marquess Palatio and Deus Macallian.”

“What?”

Theon’s eyes widened in shock at her words, though only for a moment.

“Greetings. I’m Theon, one of the professors at the Green Tower. You must be the famed swordsman of Caliban and the Marquess Palatio, correct?”

He quickly composed himself, bowing politely to Deus and Alon.

“…Pleased to meet you.”

“…Yes, likewise.”

After lingering his gaze on Alon for a moment, Theon suddenly turned on his heel and disappeared.

“He’s quite young for a professor. Impressive,” Evan remarked, as if aware of the usual age at which magicians earned the title of professor.

Liyan nodded in agreement.

“Indeed. The Green Tower considers him an exceptional talent. He’s not even twenty-five yet, but he’s already approaching the fifth rank.”

“Wow, the fifth rank?”

“Yes,” Liyan confirmed, prompting another round of awe from Evan.

Meanwhile, Alon remained silent, his expression neutral.

After a moment, he murmured softly.

“…Why does it feel like he’s only cold toward me?”

Though Alon didn’t usually mind if someone was curt toward him, it was peculiar enough to give him pause.

The sudden shift in demeanor after learning his name felt strange.

“Ah…”

Liyan seemed to realize the situation, offering an awkward smile.

“Well, it’s not really a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?”

“Well, um…”

Liyan hesitated briefly before confirming that Theon had already gone far ahead, then leaned in to whisper.

“You know those rumors about you, Marquess?”

“Rumors?”

“Yes, the ones about Penia.”

“Ah.”

“The truth is, Theon likes Penia.”

“What?”

Alon turned to look at Theon in genuine surprise.

Penia was undoubtedly beautiful—there was no denying that.

But the issue lay with her personality.

Alon knew her to have a temperament so destructive that it completely overshadowed her physical charm.

“He likes that Penia Crysinne? That insufferable woman?”

Baffled, Alon questioned her with an incredulous expression.

“…Are you saying that man has feelings for Penia?”

“Yes.”

“But why…? No, wait. Is that rude to ask?”

“Not really. Honestly, I don’t understand it myself,” Liyan admitted, glancing toward where Theon had disappeared.

“Especially since Theon once got utterly humiliated by her.”

Liyan’s expression revealed her own disbelief, but she quickly shrugged it off.

“Anyway, it seems like he’s just acting a bit childish because of that.”

“…Alright, I get it,” Alon said, choosing not to press the matter further.

Normally, he might have contemplated why a grown man was indulging in such petty jealousy, but his curiosity about Theon’s peculiar behavior far outweighed any deeper reflection.

‘…Is he a masochist?’

Just as Alon reached that conclusion—

“Marquess—”

“There’s no need for that.”

Deus, who had been waiting for the right moment to speak, was immediately cut off by Alon, who responded decisively without even hearing the rest.

“…Understood.”

Deus reluctantly withdrew his hand from the hilt of his sword, a disappointed look crossing his face.

“Deus.”

“Yes, Marquess?”

“Have you been experiencing any auditory hallucinations or intrusive thoughts lately?”

“…? Not at all,” Deus replied, looking genuinely puzzled.

Despite the denial, Alon’s unease only deepened.

***

After some time, Alon and his group continued traveling with Liyan’s party toward the exploration camp.

Thanks to their diligence, they arrived just before sunset.

“…This feels different,” Evan remarked.

“Does it?”

“Yeah. Honestly, I expected something more primitive, but it’s practically a small town.”

Alon nodded in agreement.

“True enough. With all the magicians and explorers frequenting this place, it’s bound to develop.”

“Are there no monsters here?”

“It’s not that there aren’t any, but monsters rarely appear in areas where the camps are set up,” Alon explained, recounting the lore he remembered from the game.

Evan marveled at this, while Alon took in the camp’s layout.

‘It feels different compared to the illustrations I saw.’

Though his memory was faint, the illustrations of this area in <Psychedelia> gave off the impression of a typical village. However, seeing it in person, the camp felt more like a sprawling, well-organized settlement—a mix of a giant encampment and a town.

The mishmash of wooden houses and tents, though chaotic in arrangement, provided everything one might need, from shops to inns.

While Alon was lost in thought, admiring the scenery—

“Marquess, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Liyan said, preparing to leave.

“Alright.”

Having learned that Liyan’s destination was also the Malacca Ruins, Alon had agreed to accompany her group the next day.

“Let’s rest for the night,” Alon suggested to his companions.

“Good idea,” Evan agreed.

“Understood,” Deus added.

The group entered an inn to rest for the evening.

***

The next day.

The jungle’s inherent humidity had disrupted Alon’s sleep somewhat, leaving him slightly restless.

“I’ll go look for Reinhardt. I’ll be back later.”

“Alright. Let’s meet again tonight.”

“Understood.”

“Do you remember what I told you?”

“If you mean the blessing, yes, I remember.”

“Yes, do your best to receive it before proceeding. It’s better to have the blessing if you plan to move in that direction.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alon and Deus agreed to separate temporarily to accomplish their respective objectives before regrouping.

‘Though I’d rather keep him close…’

Alon let Deus go without hesitation, knowing that Deus also had his own tasks to attend to. As long as Deus didn’t venture into Selvanus or any uncharted regions, there was little risk to his safety.

Shortly after, Alon joined Liyan’s group without Deus.

“…Deus Macallian won’t be joining us?”

“As I said, our goals are different.”

“I see.”

Liyan appeared somewhat disappointed as they continued their journey toward the Malacca Ruins.

‘The sooner we finish in this jungle, the better.’

Such thoughts filled Alon’s mind as they moved forward.

***

Meanwhile, at that very moment…

In the deep dungeons of the Holy Kingdom Rosario—reserved only for the vilest of criminals—there was a place known as the Abyssal Prison.

Inside that forbidding place…

A man with no legs, Anderede, was alive.

Despite the searing agony radiating from his body, his face bore a glimmer of hope.

‘I can’t die yet.’

The reason he was still alive—or more accurately, the reason he had been able to possess this man’s body—was that the prisoner had been one of the machina components Anderede himself had created.

By implanting tree-like roots into those connected to his machina, Anderede had managed to transfer his consciousness into the prisoner’s body just as his original body was destroyed during the Marquess’s attack.

Though his body had been utterly shattered, preventing immediate escape, this had been part of his contingency plan.

In the Abyssal Prison, where no one visited save for the occasional delivery of moldy bread, he bided his time, slowly regaining his strength and taking over the prisoner’s body completely.

Soon, the prisoner’s face, covered in crimson roots, morphed into Anderede’s own.

His legs, too, began to regenerate slowly.

As he confirmed these transformations, Anderede gritted his teeth, eyes ablaze with ambition.

“I won’t let it end like this. I’ll prepare once again… and create a world where everyone is equal!”

Gone was the benevolent smile or faith he once carried. Instead, a madness-fueled obsession gave him new hope.

At that moment—

“…Huh?”

Anderede saw something.

In the Abyssal Prison, where no one should have been able to enter due to its thick iron doors, stood a man with black hair and piercing blue eyes.

The man smiled innocently as he looked at Anderede.

“Hello.”

The cheerful greeting left Anderede speechless—or rather, incapable of responding.

He couldn’t comprehend the situation.

But whether Anderede responded or not, the man continued.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t really care about what kind of world you’re dreaming of or what you’re trying to do. I’m not even that angry.”

The man’s husky voice carried an unsettling casualness as he added:

“…But, you see, messing with His Holiness? Even I can’t let that slide.”

Raising his hand—

Snap!

Anderede realized, too late, that his neck was twisting against his will.

“Wait, no—! No, stop! Stop it! Stopstopstopstopstopstop!”

Desperate, he flailed and struggled, but—

Crack!

His neck completed two full rotations, and death claimed him.

“That’s what you get for pushing your luck.”

The man, who had snuffed out Anderede’s delusional ambitions, strolled off into the darkness, vanishing without a trace.

Left behind was Anderede’s lifeless body, eyes wide open in disbelief.

Chapter 102

Alon and Evan, along with Liyan’s group, began their journey toward the ruins of Malacca.

“Marquis… It feels like it’s getting more humid the deeper we go,” Evan muttered, clearly displeased.

“Indeed,” Alon replied, nodding as he noticed Evan’s grimace.

‘I knew this place was supposed to be humid, but I didn’t expect it to be this bad. It’s unbearable,’ Alon thought, trying to hide his discomfort.

He fidgeted with his clothes, feeling the damp texture under his fingers.

‘We need to handle this quickly and get out of here.’

As they continued walking for a while, someone suggested, “Let’s take a short break.”

They had reached the midway point of their journey.

During the rest, Alon struck up a conversation with Liyan and learned why she and her group were heading to the ruins of Malacca.

“…Malacca is a magical ruin?”

Magical ruins.

Ruins discovered in Ronovelli came in various forms—treasure ruins, heritage ruins, and knowledge ruins, among others.

Among them, magical ruins were especially prized by wizards, as they often contained artifacts from the era of forgotten gods.

However…

‘Wasn’t Malacca just another ordinary ruin in the game?’  

He had visited this area countless times while playing <Psychedelia>, searching for jungle-exclusive artifacts, just as he had during the Raksas segment.

The memories of mini-games in this jungle were still vivid.

“It’s not confirmed yet, but there’s a chance,” Liyan replied.

“Do you have evidence?” Alon inquired further.

“Yes, explorers recently compared certain structures of Malacca’s ruins with those of previously discovered magical ruins. They found striking similarities using maps created by explorers,” Liyan explained.

This was new information to Alon.

“I was aware of Malacca’s ruins, but I never thought it might be a magical ruin. That’s intriguing.”

“Right? I wouldn’t have known either if it weren’t for Theon. Based on the reports sent to the camp, I thought it was just a typical ruin. This discovery is all thanks to Theon,” Liyan said.

At her words, Alon glanced at Theon, who was resting a bit further away.

Theon briefly met his gaze but quickly looked away, as if feigning ignorance.

Alon found it odd but didn’t dwell on it.

“So, could Malacca’s ruins hold artifacts from the forgotten era?” Alon asked.

Liyan tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Hmm, I think it’s unlikely. When explorers and wizards first discovered Malacca’s ruins, they reported finding nothing. If anything, we might only find academic materials.”

Alon nodded in agreement, but then Liyan turned the question on him.

“By the way, Marquis, what brings you to the ruins?”

Alon hesitated for a moment before giving a vague response.

“Someone I know made a request.”

“A request?”

“Yes, they asked me to visit the ruins of Malacca.”

Liyan seemed curious but recognized Alon’s reluctance to share more and chose not to press further.

Alon appreciated her discretion and changed the subject.

“By the way, is it alright to share this kind of information so casually? I didn’t know any of this before.”

“Oh—” Liyan nodded, understanding his concern.

“It’s fine. Even though the ruins bear similarities to magical ruins, the chance of them being one is extremely low. And the likelihood of finding artifacts is practically zero. Any academic findings would end up being shared publicly anyway, so there’s nothing to hide.”

When she finished her explanation, Alon asked, “So, is your purpose here simply to confirm whether Malacca’s ruins are magical ruins?”

“Exactly. The Red Tower excels at ‘interpretation,’ while the Green Tower specializes in ‘detection,’ so we’ve collaborated for this expedition.”

Liyan then explained how the magical exploration team had come together for this mission.

“Once this expedition is over, you’ll be leaving immediately, right?” Alon asked.

“Unless there’s another unexplored area up north waiting to be examined, that’s probably the plan.”

“…An unexplored area in the north.”

Alon muttered to himself, recalling what he knew about that northern region.

‘That place… In the future, it’ll undoubtedly become one of the territories of the Four Great Factions, the Hyakki (Hundred Ghosts).’

The Hyakki.

They emerged in the mid-to-late stages of <Psychedelia>, wreaking havoc alongside the Five Great Sins that descended during that era.

Known for transforming an already crumbling allied kingdom into a complete disaster, the Hyakki’s members, including their boss, were infamous for their nightmarish difficulty.

‘Especially the boss of the Hyakki, the “King of Aberrations,” still makes my blood boil just thinking about it.’

“The unexplored northern region… it might be better to avoid exploring it.”

“? Why is that?”

“I’ve heard from someone I know that it might be a bit dangerous,” Alon replied.

The Four Great Factions, much like the foreign gods in the setting, typically remained dormant unless the Five Great Sins awakened and descended.

Alon, in a rare show of goodwill, offered his advice.

“Let’s move out again!”

He stood up, leaving behind a confused Liyan.

‘…Hopefully, it’ll be fine,’ he thought, though a fleeting unease crossed his mind as he briefly recalled Deus.

The damp, oppressive morning carried on…

***

After some time had passed, the group finally arrived at the temple of Malacca.

With the sky overcast, it was difficult to gauge the time.

“Let’s head straight in.”

Knowing the ruins weren’t a designated danger zone, the wizards wasted no time.

They entered the inner areas with their hired mercenaries and guides, each eager to begin their exploration.

“Shall we go in as well?” Evan asked.

“Yes.”

Alon, who had been observing the ancient pyramid-like structure of the ruins, stepped forward alongside Evan.

Inside, the ruins bore signs of long-standing moisture, with moss covering the crevices between the stones.

As they ventured further, Alon suddenly recalled something Cretenia Siyan had said:

—…You’ll understand why once you’re there.

Truthfully, Alon still couldn’t fathom Siyan’s intentions in sending him here.

No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t even guess a plausible reason.

‘What could it be?’

Lost in thought, Alon was jolted back to reality by Evan’s comment.

“Oh, it’s cooler in here.”

At that moment, Alon finally took in the interior of the ruins.

“…”

There was truly, quite literally, nothing.

Apart from moss-covered rocks, the only notable feature was a massive stone slab at the center, large enough to easily accommodate a hundred people.

Beyond that, it was just an expansive empty space.

‘What could anyone hope to learn from this place?’ Alon wondered.

As he stood in the slightly cooler interior, Siyan’s cryptic words echoed in his mind.

Alon scanned the barren ruins once more.

As his gaze slowly shifted upward…

“?”

He noticed something.

What appeared to be a drawing was, in fact, text.

Alon immediately recognized it as “writing” in his mind, understanding it naturally as though it were ingrained in him.

He’d experienced something similar before when examining a tablet in ruins once inhabited by the Dragonkin.

—Egg of the Sacred Dragon.

Despite the wear of time, the inscription was clearly legible.

“…‘Stasis’?” he murmured, reading the phrase beneath it.

Thunk.  

From somewhere far away came the sound of something massive shutting.

Crack!  

A sharp, shattering noise followed.

***

So it really isn’t likely that this is a magical ruin, even if it bears some similarities, Liyan thought, still gazing at the previously empty ruins.

But then, a sudden cracking noise pulled her attention.

“!?”

One of the Green Tower wizards, who had entered with her just moments ago, lay collapsed on the ground.

His head had been blown apart.

Crunch, crunch. Whirrr!  

Nearby, grotesquely large insects feasted on the wizard’s corpse.

“Ugh!”

“What… what the hell is that!?”

“This is insane—”

One wizard, unable to contain their disgust, vomited, while others screamed in horror.

But soon, they all began preparing spells, directing their focus toward the monstrous insects, which were now emerging in greater numbers throughout the vast ruins.

‘Why are jungle mutants here?!’  

Liyan couldn’t comprehend the situation, but there was no time to dwell on it.

She too began preparing her magic.

However, she soon realized a shocking truth.

‘Why… isn’t magic…!?’  

It was simple yet terrifying: magic could not be manifested.

As the insects began to gather, Liyan frantically tried again to cast magic, her expression growing more desperate, but her efforts were in vain.

‘The mana… it’s dispersing…!’  

The moment she released her mana for spell formation, it scattered uncontrollably into the air.

Realizing this, she was struck with terror.

“Hah—”

A sigh echoed through the chamber, drawing the attention of Liyan and the other wizards.

“Close call,” said Theon, standing tall among the swarm of insects.

“Theon…?” Liyan called his name in disbelief.

Theon, standing over the corpse of a Green Tower wizard, wore a clear smile—a grin filled with mockery.

“You look like you don’t understand,” he said, his tone dripping with derision.

Liyan’s face hardened at his obvious sneer.

“…Do you even realize what you’re doing?” she demanded.

“Oh, are we doing this? A lecture? Sorry to disappoint you, but spare me. I’ve heard enough sermons to last a lifetime. And don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing.

Seems like you’re the one in the dark here, though,” Theon replied nonchalantly.

“What?” Liyan asked, her confusion deepening.

Theon chuckled.

“If you knew what I was about to do, you wouldn’t be looking so calm.”

With that, he drew a dark, pitch-black staff from his robes and waved it lightly.

At that moment, one of the insects—resembling an oversized mosquito—stabbed its sharp proboscis into the chest of the wizard’s corpse.

In a grotesque display, it tore out the heart with a spray of blood.

Theon retrieved the heart from the insect’s maw and tossed it to the center of the arena.

The heart thumped violently, spreading blood across the enormous space.

Liyan tried again to use magic, but Theon cut her off.

“Oh, don’t bother. Now that the ‘trial’ has started, magic won’t work inside this ruin.”

“Trial?” she asked, alarmed.

“That’s right. A trial to determine who’s worthy of claiming the magical relics in this place,” Theon explained with a casual shrug.

“I should mention,” he added, “I don’t hold any grudges against you all. The only reason I brought you here is because I needed the hearts of at least ten wizards.”

With a sly grin, he continued, “Apparently, only wizard hearts will do—something I heard from… someone. Anyway, I had no other choice.”

Theon’s demeanor turned unnervingly jovial, as though all his prior silence had been a façade.

“Still, I’ll admit I was worried for a moment. Bringing the Marquis of Palatio wasn’t a problem since he’s a wizard, but that monster with Caliban’s sword? Now that was nerve-wracking.”

“I even debated how to hold out until the Marquis left. But now that I can begin the trial on the very first day? Well, I’m just incredibly grateful.”

Theon shot a mocking glance at Alon before turning back to the others.

“Well then, I’ll take my leave. Don’t worry—your hearts will be put to good use.”

With a wave of his dark staff, the mutated insects spread their wings and took flight.

‘So… this is the end?’  

Liyan watched in despair as her mana, no matter how much she poured out, dispersed uselessly into the air.

Her face twisted with hopelessness.

Crackle—  

A sharp sound broke through the chaos, drawing her gaze.

There, in front of Alon’s outstretched hand, glowing magic shone brightly.

The wizards, who moments ago had been drowning in despair, stared at the light as if entranced.

“!?”

Theon’s smug grin faded, first into confusion, then into sheer disbelief.

“Stasis.”

Alon, having deciphered the only solution to using magic in this space, calmly recited the incantation.

Chapter 103

The reason why the mages couldn’t use their magic within the Malacca ruins was due to the dispersion of magical energy.

Extracting magical power from within the body and arranging it into a specific structure forms the foundation of magic manifestation.

However, in this space, the moment one tried to extract magical power, it would scatter into the air, rendering arrangement—and thus magic—impossible.

This meant that even Theon, the one who had created this very situation, had been rendered magically powerless.

However, there was one exception—Alon.

And the reason for this exception was clear:

‘It’s because I fix the arrangement of magical power with the incantation of stabilization.’  

In other words, he had the ability to enforce the laws of magic through the use of incantations, no matter the situation.

‘If not for the hint carved into the wall, I’d probably have ended up as bug food while trying to figure out a solution… Not that the current situation isn’t dangerous as it is.’  

Even so, it wasn’t a moment to relax.

Even if he could use magic, the fact that the environment actively dispersed magical energy was still a massive disadvantage, not only for Alon but for any mage.

‘No matter how much magical power I pour in, arranging it still takes time, which lowers efficiency. And the Ho Gaftu (Memory of the Black eye) and the bracelet are unusable as well. In short, the most I can manage is three spells at best.’  

Remaining calm, Alon analyzed the current situation and scanned his surroundings.

Mutated creatures resembling mosquitoes the size of humans were flying through the air, emitting the distinctive threatening buzz of insects.

It wasn’t just the air.

They clung to moss-covered rocks.

They crawled along the walls of the ruins.

They scattered across the floor.

Even behind him.

The entire ruin was horrifyingly infested with grotesque, insect-like monsters.

“This is insane~!”

While Alon was surveying the area, Theon’s voice, filled with shock, echoed from the front.

“Logically, it shouldn’t even be possible to use magic here…!?”

Theon, dumbfounded, stood with his mouth agape.

Despite his companion’s heightened reaction, Alon devoted all his focus to calmly assessing the situation.

‘I need to take care of everything in a single strike.’  

Numerous large-scale area spells that could resolve this predicament flashed through Alon’s mind.

Unfortunately, none of them could be used right now.

If he were to cast one of those spells here, Evan and the other mages would inevitably get caught in the blast.

No, rather than “possibly,” it was an unavoidable certainty.

However, handling the bugs one by one with precision strikes wasn’t a viable option either.

He simply didn’t have enough chances to cast magic.

And as he pondered this dilemma, a thought suddenly struck him.

‘…Wait a second. If magical power disperses like this…?’  

His eyes lit up as he arrived at an idea.

“Decomposition.”

He spoke quietly.

The feeble trace of magic that had been lingering just a moment ago was abruptly dissolved and disappeared.

In an instant, it was broken down into tiny particles and scattered throughout the space.

The faint hope the mages had clung to vanished, replaced by sighs of resignation escaping their lips.

“Ah, see? I knew it wouldn’t work~!”

Even Theon, who had started regaining some confidence, gave a dejected wave of his dark staff.

At that moment, when the bugs hovering in the air turned menacing and began to shift, Alon maintained his composure.

Behind his expressionless face, his thoughts remained steady.

‘So even if it disperses, magical energy doesn’t actually disappear.’  

He surveyed his surroundings.

Even though grotesque insects were lunging at him with lethal intent, Alon did not despair.

Because he could see it.

The magical energy he had just decomposed was now naturally scattered throughout the space, a result of this chamber’s peculiar properties.

And more importantly, the moment he realized that, despite the diffusion, the control of the magical energy spread across the chamber was proceeding exactly as he intended—

“Hoo—”

Letting out a light breath, Alon formed a seal with his left hand while maintaining his calm.

Then, with his right hand, he executed a Ji-Quan-In (Earth Seal).

“Cheonggwang (청광, Pure Light).”

Pajijijik!  

Once again, atop Alon’s palm, a radiant orb of lightning surged into existence, starkly different from the feeble spells earlier.

It shone brilliantly, dazzling the surrounding area.

“Acceleration (가속).”

With that, the lightning orb devoured the surrounding air, unleashing a brilliant spectacle of electric blue light.

And in the moment when the spike-like jaws and limbs of the mutated creatures were about to touch Alon’s body—

“Designation (지정).”

A blinding flash was unleashed.

Kwa-ga-ga-ga-ga-gak!  

Without a moment’s hesitation, the orb of lightning that Alon had created tore mercilessly through the flying insects.

The heads of the bugs that rose into the air before plummeting back down.

The body of a bug that was about to crush Alon’s hand as it moved sideways.

The curved torso of an insect baring its proboscis, aiming for his heart.

With trails of radiant blue light, as if guided by precision, the lightning pierced only the insects.

In mere moments, the flash wiped out every single bug.

Kwa-jik!  

Finally, as if wrapping up its rampage, the lightning struck Theon’s heart just as he was hastily attempting to swing his staff again, and then it vanished.

…

Soon, a rain of the mutated creatures began to fall onto the floor of the ruins.

Their limbs flailed as their green luminescent bodily fluids splattered down, dripping onto the heads of the mages.

Yet not one of them made an effort to avoid the falling carcasses of the insects.

Even Liyan, whose head was soaked in the greenish liquid, stood still without bothering to wipe it off.

She simply stared in one direction.

It was toward where Marquis Palatio stood.

“Ah…”

A faint exclamation escaped from Liyan’s lips.

What emotion was mixed in that low, drawn-out sound? Even she couldn’t identify it herself.

And standing at the center of all the gazes directed his way was Alon.

‘Ah… Aah… I’m… going to die…?’  

Having overused his magical power, Alon felt the symptoms of mana depletion creeping up on him after just two spells.

Behind his stoic expression, he was inwardly on the verge of tears.

***

Shortly afterward.

Having gulped down a potion for emergency treatment, Alon realized that his mana had returned to normal from the moment Theon had died.

“…Marquis.”

“What is it?”

“What was that just now? Even during practice, I’ve seen you use similar spells, but I’ve never seen that kind of magic before.”

“You probably won’t see it again, either.”

‘Because I’m never using it again.’  

Alon grabbed his still-dizzy head and made a firm resolution.

The magic he had just used was a combination of two incantation-based spells.

First, he had deliberately decomposed and dispersed his magical power throughout the room, taking advantage of the environment’s property of scattering mana.

Then, he manipulated the dispersed magical energy, arranging it in specific patterns that only targeted the bugs and Theon.

Finally, he used a second incantation to guide his magic to precisely strike only the designated patterns.

And that was how the spell had been completed.

However, as he had already stated, there would likely never be another instance where he would use that spell again.

The very method relied on mana scattering to work, which meant it was only applicable under extremely rare circumstances.

Additionally, the level of control it required was absurdly inefficient.

The proof of that inefficiency was the throbbing headache that still hadn’t gone away.

“…I see. Well, it was really impressive, though.”

“Magic isn’t something you use to look impressive.”

“Well, sure… I didn’t mean it like that, just saying.”

It was hard to tell how much time had passed while he was talking to Evan.

“Marquis, I apologize. And… thank you so much.”

Alon soon found himself receiving Liyan’s gratitude.

“There’s no need for you to bow so deeply.”

“How could I not? If it weren’t for you, I would have already died. Truly… truly, thank you.”

Liyan bent her waist into a deep bow, nearly at a ninety-degree angle, expressing her gratitude.

Alon, uncomfortable with the gesture, once again told her that it wasn’t necessary.

“Well, then… I was wondering if—”

Just as Liyan lifted her head and began to speak—

Ku-gu-gu-gu-guung!  

Suddenly, the ruins began to tremble.

The mages, who had just moments earlier been calmly retrieving their tools in preparation to leave the ruins, now tensed up with wary expressions.

But contrary to their expectations—

“A staircase…?”

The massive tremor subsided, and what appeared before them was a staircase that had formed in the central arena, where there had been nothing just moments before.

The staircase led underground.

The mages all came to a realization simultaneously.

This was the place Theon had just mentioned earlier—the location of the object.

But that realization lasted only a moment.

“Marquis, please take this item with you.”

“…Are you sure that’s acceptable?”

“Of course. It’s something everyone has already agreed upon.”

As Alon turned his gaze at her words, he saw the other mages bowing their heads in unison.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen a group of mages bowing like this,” Evan whispered as he watched the scene unfold.

“…Then I won’t refuse,” Alon replied.

Taking the item into his hands, Alon didn’t hesitate as he began to descend the stairs leading underground.

Before long, he came upon a single door with an inscription written on its surface.

The words, written in a strange ancient script that Alon could read just like before, said:

—To the mage who remembers the incantation of unification after escaping to the end, a legacy of harmony is left behind.

…

Alon stared intently at the inscription for a moment before opening the door.

With a grating creeeak, the door swung open.

Contrary to his expectations of darkness, the room beyond was bright enough for him to see clearly.

Inside, Alon saw two things.

The first was an egg.

A black egg resting atop an altar, so dark it seemed to absorb all the light in the world.

The second was a series of letters.

Specifically—

“…‘Harmony of Shadows’?”

The words, which appeared to be the key to self-manifestation, were written on the wall behind the ominous black egg.

As Alon stepped closer to examine the egg more carefully—

“Hm?”

He noticed an old parchment lying next to the egg, inscribed with ancient writing as well.

The contents were as follows:

Never allow the Shadow Dragon (영룡) to consume anything but mana until it is born.

If the Shadow Dragon consumes a mage’s blood beyond a certain threshold, the egg must be broken.

Failure to do so will result in the Shadow Dragon transforming into a Death Shadow Dragon (사영룡), causing it to go berserk.

Two warnings in total.

Having read this, Alon quickly pieced together what Theon had been trying to do.

…Was he attempting to turn the Shadow Dragon into a Death Shadow Dragon?

Although the reasons behind it were unclear, one thing was certain.

‘Someone intentionally orchestrated this to provoke a mage into turning the Shadow Dragon into a Death Shadow Dragon…’  

He briefly considered the forces working behind Theon.

But another thought soon surfaced in his mind, prompting him to tilt his head.

This one was about the Queen of Asteria, Cretinia Siyan.

‘Theon himself admitted to the attack, so there’s no connection there… But considering she sent me here, it’s clear she knew something about this…’  

Although it was true that rumors about Alon using ancient-era magic had circulated among mages, even so, there were parts of this situation that defied explanation.

‘She did say I’d understand why she told me to come to the Malacca ruins once I got here.’  

That much was certain.

Moreover, this Malacca ruin was a place that required the ability to read ancient texts to fully comprehend its significance.

Which meant—

Cretinia Siyan knew that Alon could read ancient script, and that whatever was here would be of use to him.

‘What is going on here?’  

Alon’s expression grew more puzzled, but only for a moment.

‘…First things first, let’s head back up.’  

Pushing aside his thoughts for now, he picked up the pitch-black egg and began his ascent back to the surface.

…The egg was incredibly heavy.

At that moment.

“We should be arriving soon.”

Inside what could only be described as a room disguised as a carriage, Siyan sat comfortably as it traveled back toward Terea.

At her words, her secretary, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke.

“Your Majesty seems to be quite concerned about Marquis Palatio.”

“Concerned, you say?”

Siyan leaned deeper into the carriage’s backrest.

“Does it seem that way to you?”

“Forgive me, but yes, it does.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Forgive me again, but may I ask—what part of him makes you so concerned?”

“What part, indeed?”

Siyan pondered the question briefly before a soft smile spread across her lips.

“Who knows.”

She turned the question back to her secretary instead.

“What do you think it might be?”

…

The secretary dared not answer.

However—

The secretary couldn’t help but notice that Siyan’s golden eyes, the legendary Gilded Eyes of History (금사안), seemed to shine more brightly than usual, though perhaps it was merely an illusion.

Chapter 104

The day after Alon returned from the ruins of Malacca.

“It’s really pitch black.”

“Yeah.”

“And inside this, there’s that dragon thing or whatever, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then when is it going to hatch?”

“Hmm…”

Evan’s question left Alon silent. Naturally, even he didn’t know when the Shadow Dragon would be born.

‘If only it had shown up in the game, I might have some clue.’  

Even after playing <Psychedelia> for an exceptionally long time and exploring every corner of its world, Alon had never seen or heard of the Shadow Dragon. In other words, he had zero knowledge about it.

“…Think the information guild would know anything?”

“Hmm… I doubt it. That’s not really their area of expertise.”

“Really?”

“Well, they deal with current rumors and worldly affairs, not ancient lore like this. Unless, of course, it’s somehow tied to ongoing rumors.”

Alon considered Evan’s words, then let out a small exclamation.

“Ah.”

“Did you think of something?”

Alon nodded.

“Yeah. Someone just came to mind.”

“Who?”

“R…ine.”

“…Rine?”

Evan looked puzzled, but Alon, who knew about the Eternal Library, thought to himself:

‘Could Rine know something?’  

He was well aware that most “information” not barred by her knowledge restrictions was stored in her mind.

‘I should pay her a visit.’  

Soon, he stood up.

“Uh… Marquess? Where are you going?”

“To the next destination.”

“What? We’ve only been back from the ruins for a day! Wouldn’t it be better to rest a bit?”

Evan was understandably surprised, having seen Alon exhaust himself considerably. But Alon was firm.

“No, I plan to finish the itinerary as quickly as possible.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to rest. This place is way too humid.”

“Ah…”

Evan nodded in agreement.

“That’s true. You really dislike humid places, don’t you?”

“Yeah. It’s too uncomfortable to rest here.”

Evan gave him a quizzical look, as if asking, ‘Is it really that bad?’ But Alon was completely serious.

‘I can’t rest here at all.’  

Alon wasn’t particularly picky about accommodations. During his earlier travels, he’d camped out frequently and had no complaints about enduring deserts or even the bustling port cities. But humidity was his nemesis.

‘I need to wrap this up quickly and get out of the jungle.’  

Resolving to leave as soon as possible, Alon rose from his seat. Around that time—

“Marquess, are you in?”

“…Liyan?”

“Yes, sir.”

Liyan had come looking for Alon.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thanks to you.”

Liyan glanced away, smiling awkwardly. Alon asked:

“So, what’s the matter?”

“Well, uh… I just came to let you know I’m heading back.”

“…Already?”

“Yes. Considering what happened yesterday, it seems best to leave now.”

Indeed, it would’ve been too much to continue the expedition. Alon nodded, signaling his understanding.

“…That makes sense.”

“There’s also been some strange activity near the Magic Tower this time.”

“Strange activity?”

“Yes, which is why I need to return to the tower quickly.”

“Understood. Then, let’s meet again sometime.”

At Alon’s parting words, Liyan’s face brightened.

“Yes, I’d really like that. Oh, and next time, would you like to have a meal together?”

“A meal?”

“Yes, since you saved my life, I’d like to treat you.”

After a moment of thought, Alon nodded in agreement.

“If that’s the case, then alright.”

“Then please make sure to visit the Red Tower sometime!”

“I will.”

Liyan bowed deeply, then turned and left. Watching her go, Evan spoke up.

“She seems much friendlier than before.”

“Does she?”

“Yes. It’s probably because of your impressive magic.”

“That topic again?”

“It’s not just a topic—it really left an impact. That’s all I’m saying.”

Alon let a quiet smirk slip past his stoic expression at Evan’s remark.

“Let’s go with that.”

With that, Alon resumed preparing to leave, a stray thought crossing his mind:

‘Was it really that impressive?’  

Having finished his preparations, Alon left Evan behind and headed alone to the Hermit’s Hideout to protect the recently discovered dragon egg. Evan, having been tasked to guard the egg, eagerly nodded with a grin, clearly ready for the job. Alon chuckled softly at the sight before heading northeast toward the Selvanus Zone.

The Selvanus Zone was notoriously dangerous, home to mutated monsters of all kinds. Normally, Alon wouldn’t dare enter such a place alone. However, he felt secure thanks to a unique blessing: Imariana’s Blessing.

Reaching the massive statue marking the border of the zone, Alon observed the moss-covered figure resembling an unnamed goddess. Approaching the statue, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

After about five seconds, he spoke:

“Great goddess Imariana, grant me the sight to navigate this zone. In return, I shall offer what belongs to you.”

As he finished, a faint light emanated from the moss-covered statue, gradually flowing into Alon. A satisfied smile spread across his face.

With Imariana’s Blessing, the Selvanus Zone no longer posed any danger to him. Unless he attacked first, the monsters would not perceive him, allowing him to wander the forest freely. The blessing came with a condition, though: he had to collect scattered relics in the forest and offer them as tribute.

‘It’s not a difficult penalty. I can just retrieve a few items from the Hermit’s Hideout.’

According to lore, all items in the Selvanus Zone were considered lost possessions of the goddess. Relaxed, Alon began his journey into the zone, though a stray thought about Deus briefly crossed his mind.

‘Now that I think about it, Deus didn’t return yesterday. I hope he’s alright.’  

He dismissed the worry with a shake of his head.

‘Deus wouldn’t die here—not in a place like this. He could defeat a Swordmaster like it was nothing, after all.’  

Only if Deus ventured into the domain of the Hundred Ghosts would there be any risk, and Alon was certain he hadn’t gone that far.

Reassured, Alon continued his trek northeast. After some time, he noticed an unusually massive tree in the Selvanus Zone, its twin trunks twisting together to form a towering figure.

‘From here, head directly to the right.’  

Following his mental map, he veered right and walked leisurely for a while. Eventually, he realized he was nearing his destination. However, the sight that greeted him left him stunned.

Piles of monster corpses, stacked as high as the massive trees, surrounded the Hermit’s Hideout.

These were no ordinary creatures; they included enormous lizard-like beasts capable of devastating entire villages and other rare, highly dangerous mutations.

While Alon stared in disbelief, a voice called out.

“Ah?”

Turning toward the sound, he saw a middle-aged man clad in an incongruously bright blue robe, his presence starkly out of place in the jungle.

The man smiled, his expression devoid of hostility, as he addressed Alon.

“Entering a forest like this alone? You must have a lot of confidence in your skills.”

“…Is this your doing?” Alon asked cautiously.

“Indeed,” the man replied casually. “I wanted to conduct a leisurely investigation, but these mutated monsters wouldn’t stop bothering me.”

The middle-aged man glanced at the pile of corpses and spoke casually.

“Setting it up like this keeps everything away—except bugs.”

Alon instinctively realized that the man wasn’t ordinary and spoke up.

“May I ask your name?”

“Celaime Mikardo.”

“…Celaime Mikardo…?”

Muttering the name to himself, Alon soon dropped his stoic expression, his mouth slightly agape.

“…The Tower Master of the Blue Tower…?”

“That’s my title, though my disciple handles most of the work these days,” Celaime said with a hearty laugh, one that seemed almost too jovial for his age.

He then turned his attention to Alon.

“So, who are you?”

“Forgive my late introduction. I am Alon Palatio.”

“…Alon Palatio? …The Marquess of Palatio?”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

Hearing this, Celaime’s smile grew even brighter—like a child discovering a new toy.

Alon, for reasons he couldn’t quite place, felt a chill run down his spine.

Soon after, amidst an oddly cordial atmosphere, their conversation continued.

“By the way, what brings you here?”

“I have some business in that place,” Alon replied, pointing.

“…That place? The Hermit’s Hideout?”

“Yes.”

“Interesting.”

Celaime seemed amused and pressed further.

“So, you’re here to explore?”

“…Not exactly. I’m here for something inside.”

“Something inside?”

Alon’s response left Celaime slightly puzzled.

“So, you mean you’re not here to study it but to take something from within?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

After a brief moment of thought, Celaime finally spoke again.

“Well, given that you wield primal-level magic, it’s not surprising that you’d be interested in what’s inside. May I offer you some advice?”

“Please do.”

“Turn back now. It’ll save you a lot of trouble,” Celaime said firmly.

His tone wasn’t condescending. Celaime respected all mages by principle. His warning was based on his firsthand knowledge of just how absurdly well-guarded the Hermit’s Hideout was.

‘The base enchantment is a triple-layered spell, and to even enter, you have to reverse-engineer all the magic seals. That’s just to clear the first barrier.’  

It had taken Celaime himself an entire year just to open the first gate and reach the second. That was why he felt compelled to warn Alon.

“It took me a year to open just the first gate,” Celaime added.

“Even so, I’d like to give it a try.”

“Well, I won’t stop you.”

Though slightly annoyed that his sincere advice was disregarded, Celaime couldn’t help but feel a lingering fondness for Alon.

After all, to Celaime, a true mage was one who explored and sought knowledge.

Those who merely relied on academic circles and secondhand reports were not true mages in his eyes.

‘He’s different from the younger mages these days.’  

With this perspective, Celaime decided to cheer on Alon as though watching a promising younger colleague face a challenge he himself had barely overcome.

Roughly thirty seconds later…

RRRRRRUMBLE!!!  

With a loud, grinding noise, the first gate of the Hermit’s Hideout began to open.

“…What?”

Celaime’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

Chapter 105

Celaime Mikardo, the master of the Blue Tower and an 8th-tier magician capable of wielding Origin, could not comprehend the current situation.

“He opened it? How on earth?”

He blinked his eyes, but the scene before him remained unchanged.

Marquis Palatio had opened a door—one that had taken Celaime two full years of grueling effort to unlock—in less than 30 seconds. And now, the Marquis was walking through it.

Still stunned, Celaime snapped back to his senses and tried to call out to the Marquis. However, by the time he gathered himself, the man had already crossed the first barrier and disappeared into the interior.

Celaime hurried to the now-opened first barrier, inspecting it with disbelief.

To the untrained eye, it appeared as just another wall, but Celaime, a magician of his level, understood what lay before him. He knew the incredible complexity required to open this seemingly ordinary passage.

Only a magician of the 8th tier, like himself, could hope to dedicate the time and energy needed to unlock such a door. Yet there was something even more startling:

“…The way it was opened… it’s exactly the same as how I did it.”

The method Marquis Palatio had used to unlock the barrier was identical to the one Celaime had painstakingly discovered over the course of a year.

“What… is going on?”

Confusion and questions swirled in Celaime Mikardo’s mind. He turned to peer further into the passage Marquis Palatio had entered.

While Celaime had always harbored some curiosity about the Marquis, the extent of his interest was limited. After all, the man was someone his arrogant disciple, Penia, admired—a man who still used outdated, primitive magic techniques.

But meeting the Marquis in person had tempered Celaime’s curiosity.

Sure, the rumors and Penia’s actions hinted that the Marquis might be someone extraordinary, but Celaime’s first impression of him didn’t align with such lofty expectations.

‘His mana is low, his magical achievements barely scrape the 4th tier, and he hasn’t even awakened his inner eye. Even giving him credit for using primitive magic, he’s still below average.’  

The numerous flaws Celaime noticed made him regard the Marquis as an inferior magician, a junior lacking in potential.

He even wondered, albeit briefly, what on earth Penia had seen in this man to inspire such fear and admiration.

But these thoughts were fleeting. Celaime soon found himself trailing the Marquis, following him to the second barrier.

And there, in front of the second barrier—the one even Celaime had yet to breach—stood the Marquis, seemingly lost in thought.

Watching him, Celaime hesitated to speak. Instead, he decided to observe, curious about what the Marquis might do.

The second barrier was something Celaime had never managed to open.

In truth, he doubted whether it was even possible to unlock it.

Like the first barrier, the second looked unremarkable at first glance. But to Celaime’s awakened eyes, it revealed itself as a labyrinth of thousands of intricately layered magic circles.

Thousands upon thousands of complex and intertwined magical constructs—so convoluted that even Celaime had yet to fully grasp their entirety.

Despite this complexity, Celaime’s keen intellect had already deduced the theoretical method to unlock it:

“Find the key magic circle among the thousands.”

However, he had not yet succeeded in identifying that key.

If the barrier were a literal door, it would be one riddled with tens of thousands of keyholes.

Testing each magic circle individually was practically impossible, as it required unraveling and interpreting thousands of intricately intertwined constructs—a task that would take decades, if not longer.

Celaime, recalling this fact, felt a pang of despondence.

And yet, Marquis Palatio—or rather, Alon—turned his head slightly, as if sensing Celaime’s interest.

Of course, Alon had no real reason to pay attention to Celaime. Building a rapport with the master of the Blue Tower could be useful, but it wasn’t critical to his plans.

Alon’s wariness stemmed instead from the peculiar expectation reflected in Celaime Mikardo’s eyes.

Earlier, when Alon had opened the first barrier without much thought, Celaime had stared at him, mouth agape, his expression utterly incredulous.

Now, Celaime was standing just a few paces away, watching him with childlike curiosity, as if waiting for him to perform another miracle.

‘He said it took him a year to open the first door?’  

Alon didn’t think Celaime Mikardo was foolish.

On the contrary, he found him monstrous.

According to what Alon knew, the two barriers guarding this hermit’s sanctuary were said to be unsolvable by twelve 7th-tier magicians working together for half a year.

For Celaime, an 8th-tier magician, to have unlocked the first barrier on his own was a testament to his extraordinary abilities.

Precisely because of this, Alon found the man’s expectant gaze incredibly burdensome.

Alon opened the gates to the Hermit’s Hideout… Simply because he knew the correct answers.

‘The key to the first barrier lies in mana interference. Twist the straight mana flow into a half-circle, and it opens… The second barrier? The key is the fifth magic circle from the top-right diagonal corner.’  

With such knowledge, Alon could easily open the doors by merely channeling his mana. Yet, the palpable expectation radiating from Celaime behind him made it impossible for him to act without hesitation.

If Alon were to effortlessly open the gate with a mere flow of mana, Celaime would inevitably realize a bitter truth—that the grueling year of research he had poured into the task had been utterly pointless.

“Hmm…”

Alon didn’t have to care about Celaime Mikardo’s emotions. But as someone who studied magic himself, he understood the crushing despair that would come with such a realization.

‘…Should I just use some magic?’  

By the time Alon decided to offer Celaime a well-intentioned lie, Celaime, observing Alon’s hesitation, began to interpret it as a struggle.

‘Perhaps the second barrier is more challenging for him, after all?’  

The flicker of expectation in Celaime’s eyes faded as he tried to temper his own hopes.

And then, in that moment—

“Hoo…”

Marquis Palatio let out a small sigh and formed a seal with his hands.

Celaime, intrigued, watched intently. Although he had heard that the Marquis used primitive magic, this was the first time he had seen it in practice.

As he carefully observed Alon’s technique, he noticed the Marquis murmuring something faintly under his breath. Then, a small orb formed between Alon’s thumb and forefinger.

Celaime felt it immediately.

“What…?”

A primal sense of danger surged through Celaime Mikardo. Instinctively, he furrowed his brow and began to gather mana to cast a defensive spell. His reaction was nearly instantaneous—a reflexive response.

But then—

“!”

What Celaime saw stopped him in his tracks.

Behind Alon, hovering in the air, were two enormous, unblinking eyes.

Celaime’s thoughts froze—or rather, he forcibly stopped them.

The moment he perceived those eyes, the moment they registered in his vision, he realized something undeniable:

Understanding what lay before him would lead only to one possible outcome—death.

The one thing Celaime couldn’t prepare for, however, was his own eyes.

Having reached the 8th tier, his vision was honed to intuitively discern nearly anything it perceived. Unlike his mind, his eyes continued to analyze the phenomenon on instinct.

And then, it began.

The world around Celaime darkened.

When his gaze finally focused, he saw it:

A circular abyss—a void so profound it seemed to pull his very being into its depths.

What followed was a flash of pale pupils within that darkness.

The last thing he saw was—

“Kugh…”

—A massive eye.

A colossal presence so overwhelming it reduced him to an insignificant speck.

It was looking directly at him.

‘I’m going to die.’  

The realization struck him, and for a brief, hollow moment, Celaime’s mind blanked.

Then—

KUGUGUGUGUNG!!!

A thunderous sound roared in his ears.

“!”

Snapping back to his senses, Celaime looked ahead.

There it was.

The second barrier, which had resisted all his efforts for over a year, was now slowly creaking open, the heavy door grinding against itself.

Beyond the opening stood Marquis Palatio, looking back at him.

His expression was devoid of emotion—utterly indifferent.

“…Ha.”

Seeing this, Celaime Mikardo let out a dry laugh, almost involuntarily.

‘He’s been hiding his true power all along. That’s what it was…!’  

***

Even though it lasted less than a second, the mere act of witnessing it had left Celaime Mikardo’s mana in disarray and his hands trembling uncontrollably as he tried to cast his magic.

And yet, he couldn’t stop laughing.

Even with the shadow of death looming so close, his laughter refused to cease.

It was his unrelenting curiosity that kept him going.

The same insatiable drive that had elevated him to become the master of the Blue Tower and an 8th-tier magician.

Now, that very curiosity was captivated by the overwhelming magical knowledge that Marquis Palatio clearly possessed, knowledge that surely concealed power far greater than what Celaime had just glimpsed.

And so, Celaime laughed.

Watching this reaction, Alon, the Marquis, couldn’t help but think:

‘…Wait, is he actually enjoying this?’  

In the middle of using his magic, Alon had thought, ‘Surely, as an 8th-tier magician, Celaime Mikardo wouldn’t be fooled by something as superficial as this simple demonstration.’

Yet there he was—beaming radiantly, as though delighted beyond words. Alon found himself momentarily stunned by the unexpected sight.

***

Having passed the second barrier, Alon finally stepped into the inner chamber of the Hermit’s Hideout.

The interior was underwhelming—dimly lit, resembling the simple interior of a rustic, fantasy-style dwelling nestled within a cave.

But Alon hadn’t come for the scenery. Without hesitation, he approached a desk tucked into the corner of the sanctuary.

And there, he found what he sought.

“Got it.”

Unlike the dark bracelet he had obtained before, this time, the object was a bracelet painted pure white—the *White Hand of the Wanderer*. Alon placed it carefully into his belongings, allowing himself a brief smile.

Then—

“?”

He noticed a piece of parchment on the desk, inscribed in an ancient language. Lowering his gaze, he read the text:

—To the half-hearted magician who refused to compromise, who did not forget the forgotten words… I leave behind my legacy.

Alon paused.

The phrasing struck him as familiar—it was nearly identical to what he had encountered when acquiring the <Egg of the Shadow Dragon>.

“Hmm…”

After staring at the parchment for a while, Alon shrugged and set it back down.

As he turned, his gaze fell upon Celaime Mikardo, who was still smiling—brightly, almost uncomfortably so.

Slightly unnerved, Alon addressed him:

“I’ve taken everything I needed. If there’s anything you want, Master of the Blue Tower, feel free to take it.”

In truth, there was little of magical value left behind; no books or texts on magic were anywhere to be seen.

“Is that so? Then I’ll graciously accept,” Celaime replied, walking toward the desk Alon had just vacated.

There, he noticed the parchment Alon had briefly inspected. Picking it up, Celaime realized it was written in an ancient language he couldn’t read. Without a word, he quietly tucked it away.

Under normal circumstances, he might have asked Alon about it. However, Celaime interpreted the Marquis’s act of leaving it behind as a subtle message—perhaps a silent request to let the matter rest.

‘He likely wants me to keep this to myself.’  

Believing that questioning Alon would yield no answers, Celaime decided to take the parchment to the Master of the Red Tower, who was known for his expertise in deciphering ancient texts.

Celaime’s thoughts drifted. Despite the parchment’s content, what he truly wanted was to converse with Alon about magic.

His curiosity was not something that could simply be stifled.

And so—

‘…I’ll need to find a way to get closer to him.’  

As Celaime pondered how to bridge the gap, an idea struck him.

“Ah, Penia!”

Remembering his disciple, Celaime suddenly understood why the arrogant Penia had been so enamored with Marquis Palatio.

It didn’t take long for him to devise a plan:

‘Rather than remaining strangers, wouldn’t it be easier to get closer to him if he were my disciple’s husband?’  

Whether he was prioritizing his disciple or his own insatiable curiosity was unclear.

But one thing was certain:

‘I’ll make sure this works.’  

Filled with determination, Celaime looked at Alon with an intensity that could almost be described as fiery.

***

“…Why do I feel uneasy?”

Seeing Celaime’s expression shift into something oddly determined—his laughter now bordering on unsettling—Alon couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding.

Something strange was brewing, and Alon could feel it.

Chapter 106

Before the night deepened, Alon returned to the camp with Celaime Mikardo, who no longer had a reason to continue his research after the Hermit’s Hideout opened.

“…Are you asking about how to ascend to the next rank?”

“That’s correct. I assumed there would be some information about that there.”

As they conversed on their way back to the camp, Alon contemplated Celaime’s response.

“There probably isn’t anything beyond the 8th rank.”

According to Alon’s understanding of the Psychedelia system, a mage capable of using Origin magic would reach the pinnacle at the 8th rank.

“I see.”

“Indeed. Although it wasn’t as significant as I expected once we got there, it wasn’t a waste. I gained plenty by studying the magic circle at the gateway.”

Alon quietly nodded at Celaime’s cheerful laughter. He didn’t want to dampen Celaime’s enthusiasm for exploring magic to ascend further, even though he found it unnecessary.

‘Then again, just because the system doesn’t mention anything beyond the 8th rank doesn’t mean the 9th rank couldn’t exist.’  

The thought crossed his mind.

‘Speaking of which, what happened to Celaime Mikardo in the original story?’  

Celaime Mikardo had never appeared in the original work Alon remembered. Even during conversations with the hysterical Penia in the original story, topics related to the Tower Lord were never mentioned.

‘Did I forget? It’s been so long, and my memory might be getting fuzzy unless I check my notebook.’  

Alon recalled the notebook he had kept, jotting down useful knowledge about this world in his spare time to prevent forgetting crucial details.

‘Still, I’m certain Celaime didn’t appear in the original Psychedelia story.’  

His certainty grew as he replayed every relevant moment in his memory.

“By the way, may I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

When Celaime cautiously inquired about how Alon had found the true key for the second gateway, Alon firmly refused to answer.

“I’m afraid I can’t share that.”

In the mage community, it was considered impolite to ask about magic developed by someone else outside the established magic hierarchy. Alon used this etiquette to confidently decline.

‘Not that it matters. My magic is mostly flashy tricks without any substance.’

As Alon pondered why his little white lie had worked, Celaime continued to smile.

“Haha, apologies. I was just too curious.”

“It’s fine.”

“Well, perhaps if we grow closer, you might share the basics with me someday.”

“…?”

Celaime laughed heartily, and Alon briefly puzzled over the word closer.

“Well then, I should get going.”

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes, I have a lot to do. Even two bodies wouldn’t be enough.”

Celaime excused himself as soon as they arrived at the camp, which relieved Alon. Being around Celaime had an inexplicably uncomfortable air.

“See you next time.”

“Sure.”

Alon gave a casual reply to Celaime’s polite farewell and watched him vanish into the distance.

“Whew.”

He let out a heavy sigh.

“That’s the second task done.”

As he walked toward the inn, Alon reviewed his next steps.

“Now, only the final task remains.”

To prepare for the Forgotten One, he reflected on the main reason he had come to the jungle. A presence—more than an item—was essential to his plans.

“Everything’s ready.”

With that thought, he fiddled with the ring he had received from Heinkel and returned to the inn.

“You’ve returned, my lord.”

“Deus?”

“Yes, I’m back.”

The moment Alon entered, Deus greeted him with a respectful bow. Another figure, however, eyed Alon with a mix of disdain and irritation.

“Hmm, so you’re the Marquis?”

The man, tall and menacing, stood out. Alon immediately recognized him. Reinhardt, who was meant to be Caliban’s greatest swordsman, had finally appeared.

‘Huge. I knew he was tall, but he’s definitely over two meters.’  

Without realizing it, Alon tilted his head back to look up at Reinhardt. Even with Alon’s own considerable height, Reinhardt’s towering presence was imposing.

The rough and intimidating face of the man contrasted sharply with the noble-sounding name Reinhardt, amplifying the tension in the air.

Adding to the overall disarray, Reinhardt’s clothes had been reduced to near-rags after spending an extended period in the jungle before Deus found him. In his current state, Reinhardt resembled nothing more than a bandit—no more, no less.

‘In Psychedelia, even with his rough features, he had a clean, noble appearance that fit the image of a dignified knight.’

As Alon found himself staring at the stark contrast between the Reinhardt he knew and the one before him, Reinhardt frowned and spoke.

“What are you staring at? Since I introduced myself, you should—”

But before he could finish, a loud smack interrupted him, forcing his head to jerk forward.

“Mind your manners,” Deus interjected.

“You bastard!” Reinhardt growled, glaring fiercely at Deus after being struck.

Deus, however, remained calm and repeated, “Mind your manners.”

“It’s not me who’s rude! Don’t you have eyes? He’s the one who—”

“Weren’t you the one who first spoke disrespectfully?”

“I’m allowed to!”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am!”

“You may, but only if you can defeat me.”

“Grrk—”

Deus’s words struck a nerve. When he mentioned an apparent agreement between the two—something Alon wasn’t aware of—Reinhardt let out a guttural yell of frustration.

“Fine! I apologize for my rudeness, Marquis Palatio,” Reinhardt said with no sincerity, his voice laced with irritation.

“It’s fine,” Alon replied nonchalantly.

Reinhardt, displeased by the indifferent response, grumbled as he sat down, leaving Alon with a strange sense of unease.

‘He was supposed to be a reckless character who’d never bow his head to anyone… seeing him like this feels awkward.’

Alon briefly shrugged off the memory of the promise Deus had casually mentioned earlier before shifting the conversation.

“Let’s save the discussion for later and rest for today.”

That night, despite the persistent, sticky humidity, Alon managed to fall asleep quickly, as though he had grown accustomed to the discomfort.

***

The following day, a light drizzle greeted Alon as he looked outside the inn. Soon, Deus shared some background on Reinhardt.

“…He came to the jungle to train?”

“Yes. He mentioned spending time in the Selvanus region and the northern zone.”

“The northern zone?”

“That’s correct.”

It was unusual. The Selvanus region was not a place one would choose for training, as it was rife with powerful mutated creatures. While a newly-minted sword master like the prodigiously talented Fillian might survive, it would still be an arduous experience.

‘Training in a place like that… it’s possible because it’s Reinhardt, but even so, the northern zone seems extreme.’  

The northern zone, also known as the Territory of the Hundred Ghosts, was a place even Deus would struggle with. The mutated creatures there were only slightly stronger than those in Selvanus, but the real problem lay elsewhere—the subordinates of the Hundred Ghosts.

“From what I’ve heard, though, he didn’t seem to spend much time in the northern zone.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It seems he spent most of his time in the Selvanus region.”

Nodding at the timely explanation, Alon couldn’t help but marvel at Reinhardt’s strength. Yet his gaze drifted back to Deus.

‘And Deus defeated someone like Reinhardt…’  

“Is something wrong, Marquis?” Deus asked, noticing Alon’s lingering stare.

Contemplating his response, Alon eventually spoke calmly.

“It’s good to see.”

The sentiment carried a sense of paternal pride, as if watching a son achieve greatness. But saying so outright felt awkward, so Alon chose his words carefully.

“…Is that so?”

“Yes, you’re doing well.”

“Understood.”

Deus, perhaps feeling some sense of pride at Alon’s words, displayed a rare, slightly smug expression. After some time passed in conversation, they finished a simple breakfast with Evan and Reinhardt, who had also joined them on the first floor. Then Alon broached an important question.

“Deus, are you heading back now?”

“I am. …Will you not return with me, my lord?”

“I have somewhere else I need to stop by.”

“Then I’ll accompany you.”

“…Haven’t you accomplished your purpose? Shouldn’t you be heading back?”

“A few more days won’t hurt.”

“In truth, I was going to ask you to join me if you didn’t mind. Thank you for offering.”

“It’s no problem.”

Deus’s straightforward response prompted Reinhardt to interject.

“So, am I supposed to wait here?”

“Come along.”

“Why should I do that?”

Reinhardt retorted sharply, his tone defiant.

“So you don’t run off again.”

“What? Me? That’s absurd!”

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure out you fled to the jungle to avoid calling me brother?”

Reinhardt clamped his mouth shut at Deus’s pointed accusation, his reason for escaping to the jungle—one Alon hadn’t cared to know—laid bare.

Witnessing the spectacle, Alon, who had been quietly enjoying the rare scene, cleared his throat. Evan, watching alongside him, leaned closer to ask softly.

“So, where are we going?”

“To the Thunder Serpent tribe.”

“The Thunder Serpent tribe? …Wait, you mean the one in the east?”

“Yes.”

At Alon’s confirmation, Reinhardt frowned deeply.

“What? You’re heading there? Marquis Palatio, do you even know what that place is like?”

“Of course.”

The Thunder Serpent tribe’s territory lay in the eastern zone, one of three areas the jungle camp had mapped. It remained the least developed region because of the tribe’s strict policy of rejecting outsiders.

“…You’re aware they’re there and still intend to go?”

“Yes.”

“Hah—”

Reinhardt couldn’t hide his disbelief, which earned him another smack.

“Ow! You bastard!”

“Mind your manners.”

“Do you have a death wish?!”

“If you’d like to see who dies first, be my guest.”

Reinhardt erupted in anger after being struck again by Deus, but Alon remained composed as he watched the scene.

‘If he knows about the Thunder Serpent tribe, that reaction is expected.’  

In the game and its lore, the Thunder Serpent tribe was an exceptionally challenging foe. Each member of the tribe was at least as strong as a knight, and their combat efficiency doubled in the jungle.

Adding to the difficulty was their mastery of curses. From the moment one became hostile to the Thunder Serpent tribe, over ten different debuffs would start afflicting the intruder, persisting until they left the eastern zone.

Even so, Alon wasn’t overly concerned—Reinhardt and Deus were by his side.

Still, there was one reason for caution: the Thunder Serpent tribe had an absolute being they revered, a god-like presence.

…And that being was Alon’s target.

With that in mind, Alon stood up.

“Since we’re done here, let’s head out.”

“To meet the Thunder Serpent tribe.”

By the time the rain had stopped, Alon’s party began their journey toward the eastern zone—a region avoided by even the most daring explorers and mercenaries.

About an hour or two after entering the zone, Reinhardt glanced ahead at Marquis Palatio with faint irritation.

Truthfully, Reinhardt didn’t like the Marquis. Not because Alon had wronged him directly, but because Reinhardt often suffered incidental “collateral damage” because of him.

‘What’s so great about him that Deus gives those long-winded speeches during meetings?’  

Reinhardt couldn’t understand why Deus always spoke so highly of Alon, almost as if it were second nature.

Sure, he had heard through the knights about Alon’s significant contributions during the northern campaign years ago, but surely that story had been milked long enough.

The Alon he saw in person didn’t seem particularly extraordinary, contrary to the tales. If it weren’t for the knights who endlessly praised the Marquis after their northern expedition, Reinhardt would have assumed the rumors were exaggerated.

Already annoyed at being dragged out here instead of returning to Caliban, Reinhardt was grumbling to himself when he suddenly drew his sword.

They appeared.

Draped in white animal pelts and wearing masks made of animal bones, a group of unknown individuals emerged like mirages in their path.

Reinhardt frowned deeply as he took in the sight.

“We’ve already fallen victim to their curses.”

He could feel his senses dulling as if submerged in water.

“Be warned, outsiders. This is the land of the Blue Serpent. Leave.”

The one speaking wore a mask adorned with four horns, and their guttural growl carried an undeniable weight of authority. Reinhardt, unable to stop himself, let out a low whistle of admiration.

‘Not a Sword Master, but close. To think someone without formal martial arts training could reach this level.’

Fascinated by the unexpected prowess of the masked figure, Reinhardt’s observation was short-lived.

“We’ve come to meet your chieftain.”

“You dare ignore my warning.”

What Reinhardt saw—or rather, was forced to see—was a breathtaking display.

The moment Marquis Palatio finished speaking, a tribe member lunged forward, their long single-edged blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.

Crack!  

In an instant, everything froze.

Not just the blade.

Around Marquis Palatio, the world began to crystallize with frost, as if nature itself was recoiling from his presence. The drizzle turned to ice. The surrounding plants shimmered with frost.

Even the blade that had been thrust forward froze solid.

And then, the hand that held the blade followed, encased in a glistening shell of ice.

Everything froze.

Reinhardt, stunned by the spectacle, could only watch as his pupils widened uncontrollably. But it wasn’t just the frozen surroundings that rattled him—it was what he saw behind Alon.

Two eyes glimmered in the void behind the Marquis. They radiated an ominous presence, one that seemed to deny even the concept of recognition itself.

The sensation clawed at Reinhardt’s mind, gnawing at his sanity in an instant.

Yet, what truly shocked Reinhardt wasn’t even that.

It was the figure before him: Alon, his fur-lined coat billowing, and the two glowing eyes hovering ominously behind him.

The image was hauntingly familiar.

Somewhere deep within Reinhardt’s subconscious, it struck a chord—a scene he couldn’t place but which felt seared into his memory.

Compelled by instinct, Reinhardt frantically searched his mind for the source of this familiarity. And then, it came to him.

A year ago.

When Reinhardt had ventured boldly into a place of whispered rumors—only to flee in utter defeat.

A single attack had shattered his sword mercilessly, leaving him with a crushing sense of failure greater than anything even Deus had inflicted.

…The statue?

Yes, it was the statue.

Behind the Hundred Ghosts, seated upon a massive boulder, was a towering sculpture carved into the face of a sheer cliff.

And now, the image of that statue and the figure of Marquis Palatio standing before him were eerily, hauntingly identical.

Chapter 107

Duke Komalon’s Office.

“…Failure, you say? And Marquis Palatio took the Dragon Spirit’s egg?”

“Yes.”

At the dark elf’s calm nod, Duke Komalon let out a dry chuckle.

“Marquis Palatio… What on earth was he doing where the Dragon Spirit’s egg was kept?”

“I couldn’t determine the exact reason, but it seems he came at someone’s request.”

“A request? By whom?”

The duke’s question was met with silence from the dark elf. Realizing the lack of information, Duke Komalon sighed in frustration.

“Marquis Palatio… of all people…”

After pondering for a moment, he set down the fountain pen he had been holding and spoke again.

“What about the other preparations?”

“Everything else is proceeding step by step, excluding the Dragon Spirit’s egg. It shouldn’t take long. The test subjects are progressing as expected.”

Hearing this, the duke exhaled deeply.

“Ensure everything is prepared properly.”

“Yes.”

“And as for Marquis Palatio…”

The duke fell silent once more.

“…Shall we retrieve the Dragon Spirit’s egg?”

The dark elf cautiously posed the question, but the duke shook his head.

“No. Now that the awakening has failed, the Dragon Spirit’s egg is no longer necessary for the plan.”

“…What should we do, then?”

“Hmm, send the test subjects.”

“The test subjects, you mean?”