Chapter 100: Family (1)

Chapter 100: Family (1)

On the 77th floor of the Mage Tower of the Imperial University, Yeriel took advantage of Deculein’s business trip to visit the Head Professor's Office.

Snap—!

While the owner was away, the office was heavily layered with security spells, but a single snap of the fingers instantly deactivated them all.

"What task were you given?!" Chairwoman Adrienne asked.

Yeriel had been trying to sneak in when she was unexpectedly caught by Adrienne. Left with no choice, she accepted her help, which, in the end, turned out to be the better option.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t disclose that. It’s business-related."

“... Hmph! I’ll just ask Professor Deculein myself!”

“Sure. Feel free,” Yeriel replied calmly, placing the documents from her handbag onto the desk.

These were documents pertaining to Marik and the Roharlak Concentration Camp, sealed with a security mechanism that only Deculein’s fingerprints and iris scan could unlock.

“Would you mind leaving now?” Yeriel asked, noticing that the Chairwoman was still eyeing her.

“... Suspicious!” Adrienne muttered, her curiosity piqued, displaying her natural Busybody tendencies.

Adrienne’s instincts told her something was amiss. Her stance, with hands poised like a mantis's claws, was almost comical.

Yeriel shook her head, dismissing the concern and said, “It’s just business-related, nothing particularly interesting.”

“... Hmph! Fine! I’ll be going then!” Adrienne pouted and left the room.

Only then did Yeriel get to work. She had come here with a purpose—to find something specific.

“... Sometimes, his meticulousness comes in handy.”

She found the item almost immediately. Deculein’s meticulous organization made it easy; it was in the first drawer she checked—an untitled notebook. It seemed like something you could pick up for three elne at any stationery shop, but it was anything but ordinary.

This blank notebook, once given as an assignment by the former head of the family, Decalane, was the same one Yeriel had.

“As expected. It’s here.”

After an unsuccessful search of the mansion, coming to the Mage Tower had proven to be the right decision. Yeriel intended to use this diary to uncover Deculein’s true intentions.

“Sigh...”

A year ago, she had been too hesitant to act, feeling weak, overly cautious, and weighed down by practical concerns. So, she opted for the safest approach—using this diary. Rather than rushing into action, she decided to uncover Deculein’s final thoughts through its pages.

“Hm...” Yeriel murmured as she glanced around, then swapped Deculein’s diary with her own.

Both were magical artifacts made by their father, identical in appearance and function. However, Yeriel was certain Deculein would never open this diary. It held the presence of the only person he feared—his father.

“Now...”

As Yeriel exited the office, she unexpectedly encountered a familiar figure. The woman's eyes widened in surprise as she recognized Yeriel.

“Solda Yeriel?”

Louina approached the Head Professor’s office with a few of her protégés. Yeriel took a moment to think about Louina, who had been oddly quiet since her kidnapping by Deculein. There were even rumors circulating that she had become one of Deculein’s trusted confidantes. The truth behind this peculiar story piqued Yeriel’s curiosity.

“... Professor Louina, what brings you to the 77th floor? This is my brother’s—” Yeriel caught herself and cleared her throat. “Ahem. I mean, this is Head Professor Deculein’s floor.”

“I saw that the security spells were deactivated, so I assumed the Professor had returned. I have a matter that needs his approval,” Louina replied.

“—Ah! You and your endless expenses!”

At that moment, Chairwoman Adrienne emerged from behind the wall, her eyes blazing with anger. Louina recoiled in shock, instinctively stepping back, while Yeriel let out a weary sigh. Adrienne had been eavesdropping again, and the situation was rapidly escalating.

"Professor Louina, do you have any idea how much you've spent already?! And now you're asking for even more approvals?!"

"Chairwoman, it's not my fault that my projects are expensive~"

"Unbelievable! And it's not approval you're asking for—it's payment!"

"Regardless of the details, isn't this something for the PCO Director to handle? Chairwoman, you can simply leave it to him and not worry~"

"... I should never have established a Planning and Coordination Office!"

"Well~ Thanks to the Planning and Coordination Office, your profits have been quite good, haven't they? Every project the Professor approved has been successful."

“You’re the one eating up all those profits!”

“Well, it can’t be that much~”

"No! This is far too much! You're on course to exceed 100 million elne!"

"Oh my, not even 100 million yet? That's much less than I expected."

“What?!?!”

As their pointless argument, a mirror of the Mage Tower’s internal strife, continued, Yeriel quietly slipped into the elevator.

***

On a clear summer afternoon, under a bright blue sky, we completed the entry procedures in Lokralen—inspections and checks—and boarded the train, finally arriving at Haileich Station in the capital.

"Ah, we're finally back!" Allen said with a relieved sigh, stretching his arms.

I glanced out the window at the sky. It had been just an ordinary business trip, yet somehow, it felt like I had returned from a long journey.

"... I didn't think they'd take my diary away," Epherene muttered with irritation.

"They're probably worried it might mess with your memory~," Allen replied.

"I understand, but... at least I still remember some of it. I guess my mental strength isn't too weak."

"Yes, same here~ I don’t remember much from the lectures, but the ordinary details from that day seem clear."

"... All I remember is losing consciousness," Drent added.

While they continued their quiet conversation, we stepped onto the platform.

"Ey! Professor Deculein!" Rogerio called out eagerly, waving her arm as she approached together with Kreto.

Kreto extended his hand first and said, "Professor Deculein, once again, your assistance has been invaluable."

"I mean, c'mon! With all that talent, how come you're still just a Monarch-rank?"

"Grand Prince Kreto, it was an honor to work with you. And Rogerio, you too," I replied, taking my leave.

After Allen, Epherene, and Drent exchanged a few words with them, we divided into two groups and continued down the main road.

"Oh my!" Epherene exclaimed, suddenly pointing in the heart of Haileich. "It's the Flower of the Pig!"

The Flower of the Pig. Unlike the main branch near the Imperial University, this one was designed to match the opulence of Haileich, the Empire’s wealthiest district. Lavishly decorated, it was an exceptionally luxurious branch—one that captured the essence of the original.

“Sorrrry?! An advanced course... and I’m the co-instructor?” Allen said, his eyes widening in shock.

“Indeed.”

“B-but, I... I mean, how... this is...”

As I watched Allen stumble over his words, I couldn’t help but to reflect on that...

“I-is it really appropriate for someone like me to be a co-instructor...? I-I mean, how could I possibly...”

... He was a natural when it came to acting.

***

The upper levels of the Floating Island were unimaginable to any mage. More accurately, they defied the logic of the entire world.

"The results of the course rating will now be announced."

The Floating Island’s core and engine, Megiseon, was a structure that stretched endlessly upward, reaching the sky beyond the Celestial Realm.

However, as one ascended the levels, the spaces shifted from interiors to landscapes and even entire worlds. Some levels of the Floating Island were vast enough to accommodate tens of thousands of people, while others were nothing but open sea. And yet, others were...

“Monarch-rank Professor Deculein’s course submission—Pure Utilization of Earth and Fire: Manipulation Category.”

In a cramped conference room dedicated solely to issuing verdicts, the rating was carried out.

"The course has been granted an Unlimited Advanced rating."

The course evaluation, conducted in the presence of many devoted followers and high-ranking officials of the Floating Island, concluded with a high rating.

From that point on, Deculein’s course, Pure Utilization of Earth and Fire: Manipulation Category, was regarded as an advanced course suitable for mages of all ranks, with its completion recorded as a significant achievement in their careers.

“However, a scribe from the Floating Island will be present during the lectures, and the course information will be archived in the Floating Island’s records.”

Gindalf, who had been present, stifled a laugh as he stroked his chin. Adrienne, seated beside him, nodded in satisfaction.

“The course will be recognized as Deculein’s intellectual property, with a protection period of no less than ten years. Furthermore, except for a select few chosen by the Floating Island, Deculein himself will determine who may enroll in the course.”

The protection period for Deculein’s course had been set at a minimum of ten years. Given that the maximum was fifteen years, this represented an exceptionally high evaluation.

“In return for archiving Deculein’s course, the Floating Island will provide him with a venue of his choice and cover the associated costs—”

That day, the news of the Advanced Rating for Deculein’s Course spread quickly throughout the Floating Island. Well-known mages such as Rogerio, Kreto, Bethan, and Ihelm each responded differently—with admiration, surprise, jealousy, and disbelief. This caused a minor stir across the entire Magical Realm.

However, there was one mage who remained completely unaware of the news.

Whoooosh—!

The area was known as the Blade Track, a high-risk zone where sharp winds howled endlessly. It was situated on one of the smaller islands surrounding the Floating Island, where several small landmasses were precariously connected in midair.

Tap—!

On one of these islands, a small hand gripped the edge of a sheer cliff.

Crack—!

The hand dug into the earth, clutching the ground with desperate strength. The pale, delicate hand was covered in wounds, and blood dripped from her broken nails. The pain was undeniable, but all she could think about was not falling.

Whoooooosh—!

“... Ugh,” Sylvia muttered, the owner of the hand. Despite the biting wind threatening to throw her off, she clung to the ground with all her might.

“You’re lucky to be alive.”

At that moment, a pair of black high heels clicked against the ground as they approached her. As the heels scuffed the earth, a fine spray of sand drifted down like mist. Sylvia looked up at the woman standing above her. The woman, dressed in a robe, was applying lip balm as she gazed down at Sylvia.

“Give up. You’re going to end up a fucking cripple.” the woman said.

Despite the harsh words, Sylvia shook her head and said, “I won’t give up.”

“Do as I say.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“You may come to wish you had died.”

“I don’t care.”

“... Hmph. You’ve certainly got a strong will to learn. It seems old Rohakan’s praise wasn’t unfounded,” the woman said, a sneer curling her lips. “In that case... let’s find out.”

Her voice was deep and husky for a woman. She crushed Sylvia’s hand, still gripping the ground, beneath the heel of her shoe. A sickening crack echoed as bones broke. Sylvia’s grip failed, and she plunged down the cliff once again.

“Whether you’re a lion of Iliade....” the woman muttered to herself as she lit a cigarette. She used magic to ignite it, but the smoke was quickly swept away by the howling wind. “Or just a broken wolf.”

***

In the still darkness that had settled over Yukline Castle in Hadecaine, Yeriel gathered with her loyal vassals. Butler Roel, Knight David, Mage Regillon, and Head Maid Rachel were all present. Their heavy breaths lingered in the air like mist, and the tension was so thick it felt as if it could snap at any moment.

“This notebook... this diary was a task assigned by my father,” Yeriel said, pointing to Deculein’s Diary on the desk before her. “Each day, it absorbs a fragment of our soul and mana. In fact, some of its materials are made from our very skin.”

Her vassals’ breaths caught for a moment. Yeriel frowned as memories of the distant past resurfaced. The pain had been so excruciating that it felt as though her flesh were being torn away. Anesthesia had been useless, and though she had cried out in agony, Yeriel endured it because she was a Yukline—or rather, because her father had forced her to.

“Skin... you say?” Butler Roel repeated, a note of surprise in his voice.

“Yes. He used our skin to create part of the circuit. The paper itself is made from the finest mana stone powder. It’s an extraordinary artifact known as a remote circuit, and my father was truly remarkable for crafting it.”

Decalane, the former head of Yukline, had assigned countless tasks to his children. Both during his life and through his posthumous letters, this diary was just one of many trials. For all they knew, the other tests might still have been ongoing somewhere.

“Even if you don’t write it in the diary, even if you leave it far away, even if you destroy or tear it apart, our days and deeds are still recorded in its memories.”

Her father had described it as an artifact intended to help them grow independently. But Yeriel hadn’t been fooled; she had always known the diary’s true purpose was to monitor and evaluate them.

“Of course, the recorded memories are indiscriminate and unconscious, but they can’t be false. My father’s skill in crafting artifacts was advanced enough to be at an Eternal—Ethereal level.”

Decalane, the legendary Art Mage who had elevated artifact creation to a form of Specialization magic, left behind many such creations. Although many of these artifacts had eroded magically over time after his death, those crafted using the medium of his children’s skin remained intact.

“This key is meant to unlock that path,” Yeriel said as she pulled out Decalane’s key from her robe. It was a treasure she had taken from the underground vault of the Yukline Castle. “It’s dangerous, but right now, this diary is my only option. I’ve searched and searched, and this is the last method I have left.”

In short, Yeriel intended to enter Deculein’s diary. However, no one knew what memories they might encounter or how they would experience them.

“Has he stayed the same as he was a year ago? Is he just pretending to reconcile with us, only to abandon us later? Or is he truly trying to make amends?” Yeriel asked, her finger tracing the cover of Deculein’s diary. “I’m determined to find out the truth. Will you join me?”

Her vassals gave solemn nods.

“Thank you,” Yeriel said, exhaling deeply as she inserted the key into the diary.

Swoooosh...

Although the diary’s cover had been solid, the key slid in smoothly, as though sinking into water.

Clunk—!

At that moment, a surge of mana erupted, and when Yeriel turned the key fully, the diary engulfed them.