Chapter 83: Tempest (1)

Chapter 83: Tempest (1)

Amidst the chaos, Epherene drifted through the devastation, guided by Rohakan’s firm grip. Her gaze was empty as she took in the relentless bombardment, the crumbling buildings, and the destruction wrought by the explosions.

“Why...?” Epherene asked.

"You can’t look for reason in the actions of madmen. It’s just their insanity," Rohakan replied.

Crack—!

Rohakan employed his magic to stop a statue from collapsing, using Telekinesis to steady it. However, his efforts lacked the precision of Deculein's work.

“Hmm. I can’t manage it as cleanly as he does,” Rohakan chuckled, then used his magic to purify the area.

Snap—!

With a snap of his fingers, the debris disintegrated into dust, the explosion faded away, and the flames ascended into the sky.

“What just happened?”

“I call it Elementalization. It reduces processed matter to its simplest form. You won’t find this in any textbooks.”

“Wow,” Epherene muttered in awe, blinking as she realized they were no longer in the city. “... Where are we now? Did you teleport us?”

They stood on a hill, far removed from the square that had shifted from a scene of celebration to one of horror. Before them, a tranquil cottage awaited. Rohakan smiled softly and took a deep breath.

"It's been a while since I've displayed my magic for young talent," Rohakan said, gathering his power as he held a branch from the World Tree—a branch Epherene recognized from before.

Boom—!

Rohakan struck the ground with the branch, unleashing a wave of magic that rippled through the land. The grand spell, Flow of Purification, swiftly cleared the square of the dense demonic energy.

“That should be enough for them to take care of the rest.”

"Y-yes. I’ll be on my way now—"

"After casting that grand spell, I've worked up an appetite. Epherene, would you care for some meat? I caught something just last night," Rohakan offered.

"... Meat?" Epherene repeated, her tone laced with suspicion.

~

“Nom nom!”

She chewed slowly, appreciating the simple, earthy flavor of the meat. It lacked the sophistication of Roahawk’s fare, but its rustic freshness had its own charm.

“This is delicious. If even I like it, it must be good...” Epherene remarked.

“You seem to eat anything, don’t you?” Rohakan commented, as he bustled about the small cottage.

“No I don’t.”

“Speaking of which, where’s your friend? Wasn’t there another one with you?”

"... Oh. She’s not feeling well, so she’s resting," Epherene replied with a forced smile. Sylvia had collapsed from exhaustion during the exam, having neither slept nor eaten throughout the entire finals period. "But, have you really been living here all this time? How did you manage to stay hidden?"

“This cottage is no ordinary place. You think I could have avoided capture for decades in a regular home? It’s more like a warship.”

“A warship?”

“Yes. I’ve heard it called the 9th Category or Specialized Magic—a signature magic that arises from a mage’s own tendencies, personality, and talent.”

Signature magic—the pinnacle of every mage's career on the continent. Epherene blinked, chewing her meat as she listened closely.

“Now, watch this,” Rohakan said as he closed the cottage door and pulled a lever that was discreetly placed beside the fireplace, almost like a piece of decor.

Boom—!

A sudden tremor shook the cottage, causing Epherene to flinch, her bite halted in mid-air. Rohakan chuckled softly as he opened the door.

"... Huh?" Epherene murmured, her mouth falling open in shock.

Her eyes stayed locked on the scene outside the cottage. A vast desert spread out before her—endless sand dunes under a scorching, swirling wind. Within moments of taking it in, her lips had gone dry.

“What do you think? Quite something, isn’t it?” Rohakan muttered casually.

“T-take me back!” Epherene demanded, gripping his collar tightly.

“Hahaha.”

“D-don’t laugh—take me back, you kidnapper!” Epherene yelled, clumsily shaking his large robe. “Send me back!”

Shake, shake—

“Hahahaha.”

“Send me back!”

“Of course, I’ll send you back. Deculein might not take kindly to this.”

"... What? Why would that anger him?"

"Hmm? Aren't the two of you Deculein's protégés?"

Epherene frowned, responding, “What nonsense are you spouting? And just where are we?”

“This is the Kahal Desert, located in the eastern part of the continent. Despite its harsh climate, it’s home to several Scarletborn villages.”

“The Scarletborn... aren’t they responsible for the terrorist attack today?”

Rohakan's lips curled into a bitter smile. He didn't respond to Epherene's question, instead continuing, “The Scarletborn will soon be wiped out. Oppression against minority groups will only grow stronger. A storm, harsher than the desert winds, will soon sweep through... Epherene, what do you think?”

“Why ask me? I’m a mage, not a politician.”

"I suppose it's time I find someone to carry on my legacy."

"Legacy?"

Rohakan’s gaze rested on Epherene, a touch of sorrow dimming his eyes.

"Indeed. At a certain level, a mage becomes aware of their own remaining time. And mine is running short."

"... Then why not entrust it to Professor Deculein?"

"Do you think that obstinate man would heed my words?"

Epherene acknowledged Deculein's unmistakable ego with a nod. Arrogant, proud, noble, and self-assured—his imposing presence was unquestionable.

"Yeah, he wouldn’t listen to anyone. Even if a God told him to, he’d refuse if he didn’t feel like it," Epherene replied.

"Hahaha! You’ve hit the nail on the head," Rohakan chuckled, closing the door to the cottage. With a flick of his Telekinesis, he brought over a magic pouch that had been lying in the corner. "Here, take this. Inside the pouch are elixirs and a magic training manual I’ve written. It’s meant to guide young talents."

"... And?" Epherene asked, her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned in closer.

"I’m giving it to you and your friend," Rohakan said with a gentle smile.

"... Sorry? Why? This seems suspicious..." Epherene said, her voice doubtful and half-heartedly, though her eyes were already fixed on the pouch.

Rohakan gave a faint smile and said, "When a mage reaches a certain level, they can discern others, but only if that person is as straightforward as you. However, someone as complex and guarded as Deculein is another matter entirely."

"Sylvia is anything but straightforward."

"Quite the opposite—she might be even simpler than you. So, will you take it?"

Epherene paused, uncertain. Rohakan, known as the Black Beast and the most feared criminal in the land, seemed unexpectedly kind—more like a gentle old man than the terror he was reputed to be.

"Half of it is yours, and the other half is for your friend. I've gone ahead and labeled everything for you."

After a brief moment of intense deliberation, Epherene stole a glance at the pouch before quickly grabbing it and said, "Alright."

"Good. Now that you've accepted my gift, I'm leaving Deculein in your care. I'll be asking for a favor later as well," Rohakan said with a knowing smile.

“Sorry? I can't promise anything about the favor, but why are you leaving Deculein to us?"

"Hmm~ You wouldn’t understand just yet, but I’ve had glimpses of the future. Though, I can only see a few weeks, maybe a month, into it," Rohakan said with a warm smile.

Epherene stared at him in disbelief, her voice filled with skepticism as she said, "Bullshit! I mean, you're lying! How can you see the future?"

The mansion was dimly lit. Epherene set the radio on the coffee table and began to fiddle with it.

"How did Sylvia do this?" Epherene wondered aloud. No matter how hard she tried, no sound came out. She stared at the radio blankly for a moment before commanding, "Speak."

Nothing happened.

"... Why aren't you talking?" Epherene asked, frowning after a moment of silence. "Are you ignoring me?"

She crossed her arms and spoke again, her tone more commanding this time, "Speak. Speak now, just as you did before! Speak immediately! ... Are you ignoring me?"

"Aha, I see. So it recognizes its owner. But listen, Sylvia said it was okay for me to listen too. I have her permission. So, come on, start talking. ... I said... speak!"

The radio, unfamiliar to Epherene, refused to cooperate, and she continued arguing with it until the maid, Lethe, arrived to assist.

***

... During the Empire's Grand Festival, multiple simultaneous demonic energy bombings occurred, targeting a total of eighteen locations, including the bustling festival square.

The situation was swiftly contained due to the intervention of Head Professor Deculein, supported by mages and knights, yet not before causing severe devastation—resulting in 3,000 deaths and over 10,000 injuries.

Some of those responsible for this attack were identified as members of the Scarletborn. They orchestrated this act in protest against the widespread discrimination they endure across the continent and in defiance of the Blat Church, which they regard as heretical.

... Appeals poured in from both local and central governments, all demanding a single outcome—the suppression of the Scarletborn.

Six months ago, Lokhak, the individual responsible for the murder of countless mages, was revealed to be a member of the Scarletborn. In response, the Leoc Kingdom, which places great importance on magic, has declared the Scarletborn to be enemies of our people...

"What is your opinion? More than half of the masterminds behind the terror attacks are members of the Scarletborn, and this has caused a massive uproar," Empress Sophien remarked with a smile.

I found myself with little to say in response. After all, this was the unforeseen event Arlos had warned about—the Tempest of the Altar, using the Scarletborn to its advantage.

"How was their identity as Scarletborn confirmed?" I asked.

"Bethan. It appears their family has devised a method."

"Could you elaborate on what that method entails?"

"They extracted the heart and tested it. The results were conclusive—the hearts of the Scarletborn are indeed distinct from those of humans. It is no wonder they are referred to as the bloodline of demons."

The method seemed crude to me. I was briefly at a loss for words, but then I realized there was no alternative.

"Yukline, this tide of public opinion is beyond my power to resist," Sophien said.

The Scarletborn's suppression was inevitable; it had always been the core objective of the mid-game quest.

"Appeals are coming in from every side. I must adhere to the will of my subjects and the masses."

I had tried to delay it as long as possible, but the era itself demanded the Scarletborn's downfall.

"First, they shall seize the lands of the Scarletborn and confiscate their assets."

The Scarletborn are split into two primary groups. The first group blends into the continent, nearly indistinguishable from Imperial citizens in appearance and behavior, though their religion and diet set them apart. The second group speaks a distinct dialect and resides in remote villages, isolated regions where only their kind live.

"Hatred for the Scarletborn runs deep. The Magical Realm, along with the merchants, view this as a chance to profit. It is said that many among the Scarletborn possess great wealth," Sophien finally concluded.

The trigger had already been pulled. The Imperial Terror was the shot, and it left tens of thousands dead and wounded.

I looked at Sophien, who was smiling cheerfully, and said, "One clan has launched a terrorist attack that will ultimately harm their own people."

Upon closer inspection, it’s a peculiar scenario. The clan launched an attack in the name of protecting their own, yet it only brought harm to their entire race. It’s odd, but ultimately irrelevant. No one will look deeper. This terror attack is nothing more than an excuse.

Just as a criminal is handed over to a bloodthirsty executioner, the citizens of the Empire now have their justification to demand the suppression of the Scarletborn. That’s why it’s called the Tempest. If I oppose this Tempest, I will only be swept away. From now on, it won’t just be Yukline, Iliade, Beorad, Bran, Freyden, or Rewind.

This is the time to advance the main quest. Suppressing the Scarletborn will be seen as righteous, and defending them will soon be regarded as a crime.

"Take this," Sophien commanded, pulling me from my thoughts as she handed me a small card. I looked down at it. "It’s called Rextel. It means tiger in the runic language."

[Quest Reward: Imperial Elite Guard]

◆ Store Currency +1

◆ Mana Point +50

◆ One Item Catalog.

"It is an Elite Guard I established. Since you’ve declared yourself my mentor, I’ve assigned you an R-rank, the highest."

"Indeed?" I replied.

"I expect you to live up to the title, Demon Hunter of Yukline," Sophien declared. "But tell me, do you still intend to defend the Scarletborn?"

I looked at Sophien. Though her true intentions were unclear to me, I knew that defending the Scarletborn would only lead to isolation—not just for myself, but for my entire territory.

"I will establish a concentration camp," I stated.

"A concentration camp?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. It is less provocative than a hasty extermination and will garner public support."

"And where do you intend to establish it?" Sophien inquired.

"Yukline’s lands are vast. Among them is a place known as Roharlak," I replied.

"Roharlak? Is that not near the Land of Destruction?" Sophien asked, her eyes widening.

Roharlak was rumored to be a high-risk area, where demonic beasts from the Land of Destruction appeared multiple times a day. That rumor held some truth.

"Deculein, were you not fond of the Scarletborn? A concentration camp is understandable, but Roharlak? Do you intend to send them all to their deaths?"

"I was not fond of them; I simply never had a reason to hate them," I replied.

"Hmph. So this terror attack has finally given you a reason to hate them..." Sophien remarked, stroking her chin before offering a slight shrug. "But are you certain it is wise to construct such a detestable facility within your territory?"

"I trust Your Majesty will offer appropriate compensation," I stated.

"Oh?" Sophien exclaimed, a sly grin spreading across her face as a long tail suddenly appeared behind her.

I blinked, questioning my vision. But it was only a cat—a familiar red-furred munchkin.

"Very well. You shall receive appropriate rewards based on the number of Scarletborn you detain," Sophien declared. "The capital will also cover the construction costs for the concentration camp."

"I express my gratitude, Your Majesty. Furthermore, I believe an example must be set."

"An example?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," I replied.

I recalled certain details. Among the Scarletborn, some criminals are not evil due to their lineage, but because of their inherent nature. If I do not eliminate them, they will pose a future threat—not only to the main quest, but to the entire populace.

"I will capture and execute certain members of the Scarletborn. With the Mage Tower on break, it may be an opportune time to hunt them myself," I concluded.

Sophien paused in silence.

The Scarletborn has long been recognized as the bloodline of demons—

I was engrossed in reading a petition condemning the Scarletborn when I became aware of the lingering silence. I looked up.

"Deculein... The cost of betraying your beliefs is indeed severe, is it not?" Sophien remarked, her expression showing rare surprise. It was unusual for her to be so taken aback.

"Indeed?"

I had not told a single lie. I would execute the criminals among the Scarletborn and establish a concentration camp in Roharlak. While Roharlak might not stay as dangerous as the rumors suggested, whatever the world thought of the term "concentration camp," what happened inside would be entirely under my control.

"Yes, you were the only one who defended the Scarletborn. And now, you have changed so suddenly? Hahaha," Sophien laughed, her tone tinged with satisfaction, clearly pleased by my words. Even in her original nature, Sophien had never harbored goodwill toward the Scarletborn. "This will not do. I must also study diligently. I cannot betray your beliefs!"

"I am certain you will grow bored within five minutes," I remarked.

"Hmph. Bored, you say? How insolent. Very well. Let us see how far we can progress today. I am determined to complete at least one page—"

"—I have grown weary of this. Now leave," Sophien commanded.

The two statements overlapped slightly. I estimated that only three minutes had passed. Sophien, who had been reciting runic letters, tossed her fountain pen aside in frustration. Mastering the runic language, after all, demands not only magic but also significant mental strength.

"Your Majesty, let us continue for five more—”

"Blah blah blah! This wretched runic language dries my mouth. Leave at once! I am weary and will sleep," Sophien commanded as she lay down, turning her back to me, leaving me no choice but to exit the room.