Time flew like an arrow, the years slipping past in the blink of an eye.
After nearly a thousand sunrises and sunsets, Rhodes had now spent eighteen full years at the Clock Tower.
August, 1998. Not quite autumn yet, but the air was already cooling. For every magus, this month carried extraordinary meaning.
The Clock Tower upheld the system of "Rank Evaluation." Once every year, magi were assessed. The lower ranks—"Cadet," "Senior," even "Lecturer"—could be granted directly by higher-ranking magi. But once a magus reached the Pride rank, the colour rank, or the exalted Grand rank, the evaluation became centralized, overseen by the Clock Tower itself. These examinations not only judged a magus's worth but reaffirmed the Tower's dominance.
This August was no exception. The evaluations began as always. Yet this year, among the piles of papers laid before the lecturers and Lords, there was one thesis—at once familiar and foreign—that landed like a brick to the face, leaving them unable to decide how to even begin judging it.
At the heart of the Clock Tower, within the grand chamber inside the Tower itself, the Twelve Lords gathered together with the Barthomeloi of the Department of Law. They convened to discuss this paper—a work that threatened to shake the very foundations of magecraft history.
"This… this came from your Department of Summoning, yes? Why, then, was it submitted under Lady Inorai's name instead of your own? Isn't that the tradition, Lady Sophia-Ri?"
The first to speak was the Barthomeloi. At this time the head was not the imperious Lorelei, but his air of arrogance was little different.
"This thesis touches on many fields. I thought it fairer for Lady Inorai, Mr. Rhodes's acting mentor, to submit it."
Sophia-Ri answered without flinching. The Barthomeloi was immensely powerful, the very paragon of nobility, but to someone like her—an established magus of the highest standing—he wasn't untouchable.
"Hmph. An interesting excuse," Barthomeloi said coldly, flipping through the thick manuscript. He sneered when he read the title.
"'On How to Permanently Sustain Heroic Spirits in the World'? How could such foolish, impractical nonsense be placed before us? Is this some indulgence for your student, Lady Inorai? I demand an explanation!"
"Oh? An explanation? I'm afraid you'll be disappointed." At the ninth seat of the round table, an elderly crone spoke gravely. "Why don't you study it first before declaring whether my apprentice is chasing hollow fame, Lord Barthomeloi."
"You—!" His face twisted with anger. He hadn't expected such direct defiance. But as he glanced around, he caught the mocking smiles of the other Lords.
Could it be… this thesis wasn't mere fantasy? Could it truly be achievable?
The thought turned his face ashen. If it were real, Rhodes's evaluation might not just place him at Pride, but potentially at colour—or even Grand. He might even be awarded one of the Three Primaries, the highest honor in existence.
"This…" he muttered, faltering. And at that moment, the golden-haired young lady seated at the fourth position rose.
"In the name and honor of the El-Melloi family, I nominate Mr. Rhodes for elevation to colour rank. Furthermore, I propose he be granted the Yellow of the Three Primaries, with the title 'Radiant Gold.' What say you all?"
Reines's voice carried no hesitation. Though phrased as discussion, it was delivered like fact. The other Lords answered in turn, smiling as they lent their support.
"Seconded. Lord Rhodes's age is too young for the title of Grand, but colour—yes, even the Three Primaries—suits him well," said Lord Gaiuslinkof the Department of Zoology. At once, Lord Archelot of the Department of Botany chimed in.
"In sheer accomplishment, he may not be without precedent. But his willingness to share his research and integrate it with our own? That generosity alone merits recognition."
"You… you snakes…" The Barthomeloi sputtered with fury. But it was clear the Lords had already conspired together. No matter his protests, he could not oppose the entirety of the Tower's ruling council.
◇◇◇
The glow of sunset slowly faded. Rhodes had been officially recognized as a colour-ranked magus, granted the title of "Radiant Gold." The whole Clock Tower buzzed with uproar over the unprecedented honor.
And yet, true to form, Rhodes—an academic Arcane mage through and through—was holed up in his workshop, tinkering with his latest toys.
Before him stood a brand-new F-15 fighter jet, fresh from Boeing in the United States. Securing something like this was only possible thanks to Van-Fem's overwhelming influence and unimaginable wealth.
Meanwhile, the "Destroyer Yuudachi · Kai Ni" had already arrived on the English coast, hidden within a military harbor. It was being outfitted with its unique mana reactor and the levitation rings imported straight from Faerûn.
As for the F-15, Rhodes intended to modify it into something resembling the "Murasame series" grunts from Gundam SEED. Multi-role platforms, capable of both high-altitude bombing and ground assault.
But once again, he had failed.
The runes scrawled across the wings flickered and died. The mana drained away from the enchanted alloys. With the destabilization of the flow, the structural enchantments collapsed, and the jet worth hundreds of thousands of dollars became nothing more than scrap metal.
"What a waste…" Rhodes sighed helplessly, before turning toward a nearby light armored vehicle.
As for the titles of colour rank, "Radiant Gold," prestige—it couldn't feed him, after all.
In one corner of the workshop, however, stood his true masterpieces.
Colossal silhouettes loomed in silence.
This was Rhodes's strongest power.
Golems—not human-sized, but towering, forged of pure steel, war machines in the truest sense.
Six-meter-tall Iron Golems, their frames sheathed in blackened shadow-steel. Mithril Golems, gleaming with impossible expense.
Each a different shape, each a war colossus. Their metallic shells reflected a cold, cutting brilliance. Just the sight of them, standing on a battlefield, would crush the enemy's spirit.
These constructs, born of ancient Netheril techniques, were formidable indeed. And yet, to Rhodes, they still fell short compared to a modern armored division refitted with his designs.
Because in the end—Gundams were the true dream of every man.
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Author's Note: Hey guys. If you are liking the story so far, please give some powerstones and leave some comments!
For 50 p.s I'll drop extra chapter.