Chapter 33: Break (1)

Chapter 33: Break (1)

The first topic on the Berhert meeting agenda was the demon incident—the one I had killed in the Mage Tower area. Drjekdan first requested my testimony.

"The Mountain of Darkness has always been a place of lingering impurity. Anything could have been there, but that day it was a demon so I killed it," I said as I caught my breath.

My vague explanation was supplemented by Essensil, the young head of the Bran family.

“A demon appearing in the capital is a serious matter. Additionally, the borders of the Norther Territory, particularly the Land of Destruction, are swarming with demonic beasts. We need to send mages to investigate suspicious areas and possibly cooperate with the cathedral.”

Essensil, with her striking green hair, was a credible and principled leader of a reputable family. In my current state, I lacked the energy to interpret or judge the situation, so I simply agreed with her and said, “That’s correct.”

Essensil's eyes widened in surprise. Deculein was known for criticizing even correct statements. The other mages didn't challenge this matter.

We'll have the cathedral identify suspicious areas first, and then we'll select mages from each magical sect to be dispatched.

The first topic was approved.

“The Linnel sect, renowned for their dedication to destructive magic, will take the lead in the demon extermination—”

Many topics were discussed, including which sect to send first, the rewards, managing the demonic beast-infested mines, and revising the magical laws on dungeons and demon hunting, and more...

For nearly four hours, the round table buzzed with discussions. I stayed silent, conserving my three speaking rights for later.

"We'll take a short break now."

After nearly five hours, I finally left the round table. Stepping outside to clear my head, I saw a small figure with brown hair pacing anxiously near the exit, beside one of the elders. It was Allen.

“... Oh, Professor!” Allen exclaimed, running toward me. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry for being late! They said I c-couldn’t join the meeting once it started, so I’ve been w-waiting here. I’m really sorry...”

I shook my head, trying to calm his flustered apology and said, "It's all right."

In reality, I was far from fine. I had suffered mana exhaustion multiple times today. Any ordinary mage would have been bedridden or dead by now. The lingering effects meant I had barely recovered 300 mana during the five-hour meeting.

“T-they told me you saved me, Professor—”

“I told you not to cry,” I interrupted.

Allen tried to hold back his tears, lowering his head and said, “... Sniff!”

But now, I could no longer see this kid as innocent. His once genuine and sincere face now seemed strangely oddly unfamiliar.

“From now on, just stay quietly by my side.”

“Uh... sorry? Oh... yes, sir...”

I had to keep everything hidden. If my suspicions were right, I needed him close. I couldn't let any doubt or suspicion show.

... I had to do it for my own safety, to survive.

***

We had a thirty-minute break. The heads of families returned to their waiting rooms, exchanging opinions and attempting deals, while I stayed with Allen, doing nothing. When the break ended, we returned to the round table, and Allen sat beside me.

Drjekdan then announced the next agenda item, “What should be the mage's stance on the Scarletborn?”

As soon as the topic was announced, the atmosphere at the round table shifted dramatically. No one had been officially given the floor, yet a heated debate erupted. The Scarletborn was indeed the Achilles' heel of the magical community.

Bethan of Beorad spat his words out with venom, "The Scarletborn are like pests that breed uncontrollably, corroding the foundations of our society."

Essensil shifted uncomfortably and said, “But how can we distinguish the Scarletborn from others?”

“We can find a way. The answer lies with the blood magic. If the Mage Tower of the Imperial and Kingdom Universities collaborate, we can achieve anything,” Bethan said fiercely.

Ihelm, who had been observing, tried to interject, but Bethan continued, “Furthermore, they somehow identify each other and come together. The Scarletborn must have a leader bringing them together.”

The Scarletborn were a unique kind of people, few in number but rich in special talents. Among them was a leader who united and guided them. Bethan's point was valid, but this leader must not die. According to the game's setting, he was a saintly figure, much like Buddha or Jesus.

"That leader must be hiding underground, gathering the Scarletborn. The idea of what they might be plotting down there is disgusting. It’s inherently inhumane!"

"Bethan, you're only speculating."

"Sixty years ago, many mages died because we were too lenient with them!" Bethan retorted, nearly choking on his rage. Essensil didn't press the argument any further.

Just as the heated discussion seemed to settle, Glitheon, who had been watching me, finally spoke up, “What does Deculein of Yukline think?”

All eyes turned to me. The Yukline family had historically been masters of exorcism, leading the fight against demons. It was a position of significant influence and responsibility. As someone from the modern era, I understood the underlying motives for oppressing the Scarletborn.

Even without that knowledge, delaying their oppression was the right choice. The Scarletborn were not the ultimate enemy in this world, and avoiding their suppression would make future main quests significantly easier.

“In the past, the Scarletborn were seen as our enemies,” I began calmly. “But if we look at the records carefully, it’s clear that it was all based on misunderstandings.”

"Misunderstandings?" Bethan cut in, his voice laced with skepticism.

“It started as a misunderstanding. In the Lodran Witch incident 237 years ago, Lodran was falsely accused of being a witch and was actually innocent,” I said, glaring at him as I referenced a specific historical event. Then, I continued.

“That incident sparked widespread persecution, causing the Scarletborn to shed a lot of blood. Naturally, they fought back, leading to even more bloodshed. The violence finally stopped when a temporary ceasefire was reached.”

I had seen this in the lore documents and read similar historical records. The main points were already clear in my mind.

"Sixty years ago, it became a political issue when a mana stone mine was discovered in Scarletborn territory."

In this world, mana stone mines were far more valuable than the combined worth of oil and natural gas in the modern era.

"Political issue? You call it a political issue?" Bethan said, pounding the table, his anger palpable.

I knew a lot because it was a crucial part of the mid-to-end storyline, but persuading others was a different challenge altogether.

“They carry a bloodline tainted with demonic influence! If anyone should understand this, it’s Yukline, the demon hunters!” Bethan shouted, nearly losing control.

“Yukline’s tradition is to hunt demons, not exterminate the Scarletborn,” I said, shaking my head.

"The Scarletborn are demons!" Bethan shouted, his voice echoing through the Elder Gate.

Bethan’s extreme conclusion could lead to the mass slaughter of the Scarletborn. After his outburst, the room fell into a heavy silence. The once heated discussion had turned eerily quiet, and in the stillness, the tension only intensified.

I fixed my gaze on Bethan and asked, “Can you take responsibility for what you just said?”

Calling an entire race demons would make them enemies of all humanity. Bethan, along with everyone else, stayed silent.

Deculein, still reading, responded, “It’s not your concern.”

Fidgeting with her fingers, Sylvia asked, “Do you enjoy reading?”

Deculein responded without looking up from his book, “They’re a second choice.”

He had never liked books, but reading was a calming hobby for him due to his personality. It was a character trait he didn’t feel the need to overcome.

Sylvia stayed quiet again, staring at the fireplace. Then, she began to rub her hands together, manifesting magic.

“It’s the Scorching Fire,” Sylvia said, proudly displaying it. The soundless, colorless flames clung to the fireplace, intensifying the blaze.

Deculein glanced at the flames, nodded and said, “Well done.”

"I can add color to it too."

With two added lines, the Scorching Fire turned blue.

Deculein nodded with satisfaction and said, “Even better.”

Sylvia glanced at Deculein’s face before casting another spell. This time, she formed a cloud.

“This is the Thundercloud.”

“Well done.”

“I can make it even bigger,” Sylvia said. The thundercloud expanded, covering half the ceiling.

“Even better,” Deculein said.

Sylvia then cast another spell. Leaves sprouted like blades and said, “This is Metal Leaves.”

“Well done.”

"When combined with destructive magic, these leaves can fly and attack enemies."

“You’ve learned well.”

Sylvia demonstrated various spells she had learned from Deculein’s classes. Since he only offered compliments, she initially thought he was just being nice. However, when she displayed some of her immature spells...

“The circuit flow is off. You’ve misunderstood something. Redo the circuit,” Deculein instructed. “The properties are not harmonizing smoothly. Fire and water must be balanced; neither should dominate. They need to achieve equilibrium.”

He corrected her earnestly. His advice helped Sylvia refine several spells, but it also made her ambitious.

“Then what do you think my weaknesses are?”

“You need to figure that out on your own.”

Sylvia pouted, “You told Epherene.”

Deculein shook his head and said, “Epherene figured it out herself.”

Sylvia unknowingly clenched her fist and bit her lower lip. Though Deculein kept his gaze on the book, his eyes paused momentarily.

“There's no need to rush.”

Sylvia’s shoulders trembled.

“You have time, Sylvia. Time is on your side, and your growth will mirror your dedication.”

Increased mana and advanced magic. Even without the system's assistance, Sylvia would become the most accomplished mage in this world through her talent alone.

"... You have the talent to be among the top three mages on this continent," Deculein said, relying on the system's information. It was a future that seemed almost inevitable.

His words were so full of conviction that Sylvia, feeling a bit dazed, simply nodded.

Just then...

“Shh,” Deculein said, raising a finger abruptly. “Stay still.”

The sharp metal by Deculein's bedside moved. Almost simultaneously, a grotesque figure emerged from the ceiling. It was a ghost, its face cruel and horribly distorted by mana energy. Sylvia felt immense fear for a moment, but it was fleeting. Deculein’s magic shredded and pierced the ghost in an instant.

Having ended the situation, he murmured calmly, “It must have entered because I opened the door.”

Sylvia, clutching her chest, turned her gaze to Deculein. More precisely, she fixated on the metal piece on his table.

“You killed the ghost with that?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing.”

Deculein chuckled at her innocent admiration and said, “It’s nothing special. This weapon and magic are specifically designed for killing.”

The Main Quest doesn’t wait for the player to grow evenly. Therefore, Deculein’s magic was purely practical, focusing solely on combat and lethality. Yet, he still lost to Veron.

“What’s truly valuable in this world, Sylvia, is your talent as a mage. Magic isn't meant solely for killing.”

Only then did Sylvia understand Deculein’s behavior at the round table during the meeting. She now clearly saw why he hadn’t persecuted the Scarletborn.

“Now, stop asking questions and get some rest.”

Sylvia looked at Deculein with wide eyes and asked, “Should we take turns on the night watch?”

“No need. The flow of time behaves strangely here anyway.”

“I know. The mana phenomena—”

“The nights at high altitudes are unpredictable. What feels like ten hours could be two, twelve, or even twenty-four, depending on the mana levels. Now, stop talking and go to sleep.”

Deculein’s tone was firm yet kind. Sylvia wondered if he saw her as Iliade’s assistant, a regular student from the Mage Tower, or simply a fool who couldn’t follow the nighttime rules. Confused, she lay down on the bed.

... The gentle rustling of pages and the warmth of the crackling fire filled the room.

Listening to these sounds, she gradually drifted off to sleep. It was comforting. Sylvia looked out the window with drowsy eyes. A shooting star streaked across the dark sky.

It was beautiful.