Chapter 577 - Assault (1)
They say that to achieve true success, one must learn through repeated failures, but at times, a moment arrives when failure is simply unacceptable.
That time is now.
If things go awry, there will be no turning back.
Whatever means are employed, the best possible outcome must be secured. This is not the time to think of the future or to consider what lies ahead.
At the forefront of the Western Continent's magic tower alliance, near the battlefield, Verden resolved himself.
'There is only one chance.'
For this plan, Verden had already allocated every strategic resource he could summon, including those from the Society, and even the Black Hour.
He consumed the vast reserves of alchemical materials he had in storage as if they were water, and for what was lacking, he procured it directly from across the continent.
Additional installation of central signal towers for long-range communication devices.
Multiple spatial teleportation arrays capable of continent-spanning movement, lasting for days, leaving not even a trace behind.
Magical items that continually consumed single-use or high-grade magic stones… he had thrown every available means into this endeavor.
In terms of monetary value, the cost was astronomical.
Yet, despite such thorough preparations, he did not recklessly rush to raid the entirety of Bohemirn's magic tower.
Radical, but not hasty.
'First, I must see how the tower responds.'
He did not know whom they had dispatched to the Principality of Riviant, but surely it would be someone marked and supervised directly by Balrog with Coercion.
If the tower's internal personnel sent to the principality were killed, and that anomaly was reported through the captain tied to their life response, then…
Bohemirn's response would fall into one of three categories.
Any possibility of them showing no response at all was excluded.
For while the Transcendent Council was distracted, Lucard had been abducted, Rayshen and Omar Boldrak had disappeared, and Elder Hiram along with an entire unofficial laboratory had been annihilated.
Even without considering outside interference, the probability was high that they were constantly monitoring the status of their personnel.
At the very least, the frequency of inspections must have been shortened. Bohemirn might be arrogant, but they were far from foolish.
Thus, the anticipated countermeasures were threefold.
First, Balrog Bessias personally moves to the Principality of Riviant.
The likelihood was extremely low.
No, nonexistent.
Balrog was neither careless enough to cast his true body into an undefined danger, nor sacrificial by any means.
'Even so, if he defies expectations and Balrog himself appears, then immediately use
Balrog accompanied only by the highest elders.
Verden with all his strongest forces gathered.
The chance of victory was certain.
If that happened, the conclusion of the full-scale war would be brought forward.
Second, a figure of elder rank leads one of Bohemirn's three mage divisions, either the "Array of Spectrum" or the "Saturation of Jinche", both considered the tower's true military strength.
'...From my view, bothersome, but from Balrog's perspective, a rational choice.'
With just that, they could annihilate most factions entirely and still adapt to sudden variables.
And should the issue not be easily resolved, Balrog could later intervene, leading the remaining mage divisions.
In other words, both the first and second responses assumed the Bohemirn tower master was actively commanding his forces in real time.
Finally, the third option was to dispatch scouts to investigate.
If they realized some interference had temporarily severed Coercion's link, they could deal with it appropriately.
And if the scouts were slain, the emergence of an unforeseen and dangerous variable would be confirmed, leading them to choose retreat.
Minimization of losses.
'Which means… it reveals an unwillingness to deploy large forces immediately, or a fear of losing strength.'
At first glance, such caution might seem entirely rational.
Yet in reality, it was the opposite.
As mentioned, Verden's Black Hour had already struck them before.
Twice they had been unexpectedly ambushed, their deeply hidden plans exposed, and yet they still maintained such excessive caution—this was nothing but a foolish stratagem.
What use is prudence when one's true intentions have already been laid bare?
And so, if Bohemirn displayed only a passive reaction…
'It could be interpreted as Balrog Bessias not being in the tower.'
The absence of the master to pass judgment.
Objectively, the second option was the most likely response Bohemirn would take.
Yet personally, Verden leaned toward the third.
'For the vision of a Transcendent, pursuing ideals throughout a lifetime, can sometimes be boundlessly broad, and at other times, narrow beyond reason.'
If the tower chose the third option, then in all forthcoming situations, the advantage would fall to him.
───Divine, it must be.
From the bracelet on his wrist, Osgar's voice came.
Ordinarily, continent-spanning communication was impossible, but at this moment, the spatial teleportation array connecting the Western and Eastern Continents was being maintained.
Though its upkeep cost was immense, it was a bleeding expense he had no choice but to endure.
"I hear you."
───I have discovered the identity of the one Bohemirn's tower sent to the Principality of Riviant. He stands before me now. Lauen Seedger. It has been a long time since I last saw this fellow.
Lauen Seedger.
An elder of Itium, wielding primarily gravity and ice attributes, a supremacist with elitism carved deep into his bones.
"And the numbers?"
───Merely six, no more.
"Then you need no support."
───Of course not. I lead the vanguard of war itself—how could I possibly disgrace myself by needing assistance while confronting those dog-like magi? No, never.
Say it, "dog-like magi".
Say it properly, pronounce it right, with sincerity.
Verden recalled the verification ritual Osgar Fargon had once performed when he first met the Society's sages at the Silver Citadel.
The Sage of Power chuckled low.
───I will settle this quickly and report back.
***
The Count of Rodenmeyer in the Principality of Riviant valued profit above all else, a high noble of the state with an uncommon greed.
Lately, he had been thinking.
'Truly, life is delightful.'
With fortune and effort, the fame of the Rodenmeyer family had risen, and accordingly, its practical power had strengthened.
Above all, its wealth had grown at a pace he had never before experienced.
Having secured first place in the principality's state contracts of the past, the silver mines and magic stone lodes granted by His Majesty the Arch-King as reward… the investments poured into developing those mines and lodes had already been recovered.
Now, the net profits poured straight into his pocket.
Mentioning his involvement in other national projects would be wearisome for how long the list ran.
Thus it was no surprise the common rumor spread that among the principality's counts, Rodenmeyer ranked among the very top.
On a moonlit night.
In the largest chamber of his mansion, Count Rodenmeyer reclined against the headboard of his grand bed, reading a newspaper.
The words illuminated by a magic stone lamp on the bedside table.
"…Though I have risen high, compared to this, I seem insignificant."
Decorating the pages throughout the newspaper—the words "Divine of the Eastern Continent, Asher".
One of the de facto rulers who divided the infamous ownerless land, where blood never dried and corpses never ceased to fall.
And among all the continents, one of the most famed rising stars, no exaggeration to call him the most renowned young magus. Or rather, no longer just a mage—now a Magus.
Ever since the Soul Tree subjugation, he had shown promise. Yet never had the Count imagined he would attain such heights so swiftly.
'This is true talent indeed.'
Past years swept through his mind.
It felt like only yesterday that Asher had been active in the principality's Grey district, taking on and resolving requests through Pale.
Was it a miracle that in such a small principality, he had crossed paths with him?
'When the chance arises, I must send a gift.'
He seemed fond of sweets, so I shall especially procure something costly. Whatever it may be, it would be wrong to neglect such ties.
Click.
He neatly folded the newspaper and set it on the table, then extinguished the magic stone lamp. As his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, he lay down on the bed.
And just as he was drifting into sleep—
"…!"
An unfamiliar dread. Instinctively, Count Rodenmeyer seized the lamp and hurled it.
Crash!
The sound of shattering glass rang out, the light flickered, the broken magic stone lamp briefly illuminated the room before falling into silence.
No one stood before him.
Then behind.
Count Rodenmeyer leapt from the bed and pressed his back to the wall.
In the pitch-black darkness, a human silhouette faintly revealed itself.
'...What is this? Even as I face him, my senses perceive nothing.'
But it was certain, the intruder bore an unmistakably malicious intent.
Most likely an assassin.
No need for words.
Shing.
He quickly strengthened his body with qi and snatched a decorative sword from the wall.
The Rodenmeyer family was famed for swordsmanship, and among the principality's knights, the Count ranked 8th in martial skill.
Whish───Crash!
A fierce sword slash laced with aura shredded the furniture, yet the assassin, having shifted a single step off the trajectory, slipped from his perception.
'Skilled at concealing presence, this one.'
At once, Count Rodenmeyer hurled himself toward the window.
There was no reason to face an assassin alone.
Knights had to be summoned—that was the true strength of nobility. By now, his retainers must have sensed the commotion.
But—
Thud!
"?!"
Instead of breaking through, Count Rodenmeyer was repelled, crashing back. His eyes caught the shimmering ripple of a magic circle on the window, then it vanished.
"…The room has been sealed?"
When?
Now he realized—no sound from outside reached within. Which meant, likely, no noise from inside escaped out either.
"This is, ngh?!"
His blade spun in a sweeping horizontal arc, but the strike missed.
In an instant, the assassin seized his back, arms coiling around his neck like a serpent. Thud! The two toppled, rolling roughly across the floor.
The Count twisted his wrist, reversed his grip on the sword, and tried stabbing backward, but the assassin's leg clamped firmly over his elbow joint, locking it in place.
'I can't move…!'
A joint lock, inescapable.
He was overwhelmed.
Struck unprepared, without even the simplest arms at hand—the price was dire. Above all, the assassin's skill was leagues beyond ordinary.
Who, from where, and why would anyone hire such a killer?
"Kh, grrk."
His airway compressed, breath suffocated.
Darkness blurred into his vision.
Believing the target subdued, Bohemirn tower's mind-control experiment subject—the Grimnax high assassin—clamped the Count's neck with his left arm while freeing his right.
Wearing a strange gauntlet, he raised five fingers and pressed against the Count's chest, near his heart.
Hummmm.
Stored mana within the gauntlet was consumed, relaying a signal.
Immediately, his right hand began to move of its own accord.
The newly improved forced magic circle, Coercion.
Through the assassin's body, the Coercion inscribed by Lauen Seedger would manifest.
Torso and head.
With two marks, Count Rodenmeyer's brainwashing would be complete. For an assassin specialized in infiltration, it was far too easy.
Hummm...
Then suddenly, the hand froze. Likewise, the flow of mana halted.
Seconds passed, the magic circle unraveled.
"…?"
The assassin repeatedly raised his fingers, pressing directly against the Count's chest, but nothing happened. Soon, the circle dissolved completely.
Confusion stiffened his movements.
At that same moment, the Count felt the grip slacken.
Crack!
Count Rodenmeyer's fist shot back, smashing square into the assassin's face.
***
The state brainwashing project becoming known to outsiders—utterly impossible.
Every person with knowledge of it was thoroughly controlled, not a scrap of evidence leaked.
The only possible proof, the ancient continental artifact [Marterias], resided in the deepest depths of the tower master's private laboratory, accessible only by the permission of Bohemirn's master.
No interference was ever conceived, nor imaginable.
For that reason, Lauen Seedger, forgetting all decorum, betrayed his shock.
Because among those speaking into a bracelet before his eyes… the man standing foremost was too unthinkable.
Osgar, finishing his communication, faced him.
"It has been long, yet no joy in seeing you, Lauen Seedger. Especially not here."
It was a greeting, of sorts.
For a moment, Lauen stood dumbstruck, regaining his wits only with trembling eyes and lips.
"O–Osgar, Osgar Fargon? You… you, why are you here…?"
"So shocked you can barely speak, I see. Understandable. After all, I've appeared in a place where no one should ever know I could be."
"Answer my question!"
Even as Lauen barked, Osgar spoke on.
"…Once, I thought Bohemirn's tower may have had its excesses, but still fell within reason. I was wrong. Forcing will and mind through magic circles, building unofficial laboratories outside the tower to sacrifice living humans—such atrocities."
"…!!!"
"Already weary of the tower's misdeeds, but you have long since crossed the line. I fear other towers may hide abominations such as these, like Bohemirn does."
Osgar's gaze sank low.
"Thus, I cannot but oppose the tower system as it stands."
At those words, Lauen's tangled thoughts seemed to unravel.
Unofficial laboratory.
Anti-tower ideology.
The pieces intersected, forming a single picture. Whether true or not, conjecture or fact…
"You, a former War Lord of the Empire… are you part of the anti-tower Society? And the Society has allied with the Black Hour…?"
"Oh? To reach such a conclusion from mere words—whether guess or not, your mind is sharp indeed. A loss to the magical world, were such talent erased. But all this, you have brought upon yourselves."
Osgar tugged his staff close. At once, the elite magi of the Society at his side activated their mana circuits.
"You should have put that head to better use."
The calculation was already complete.
Tap.
The taut string of tension snapped all at once.
"You dog-like bastard."
Sixth-tier composite magic.
<压火, Suppressed Fire>
From the thrust staff burst flame imbued with gravity. With a thunderous roar, the forest before them collapsed.