Raising the Northern Grand Duchy as a Max-Level All-Master-Chapter 124

124. Encounter in the Magic Realm (1)

“Here it is!”

“We’ve found it!”

It was unclear how much time had passed since the search began, but at last, the knights uncovered the cloaking barrier. Their glowing swords sliced through the air, shattering the illusion.

Fwaaash!

Cracks spread in the void, and the hidden space revealed itself.

‘So this is a relic of the Golden Age.’

Seeing an ancient ruin for the first time since arriving in this world left an impression, though it felt more like sightseeing at a historical site.

‘This is amusing in its own way.’

However, the excitement quickly faded.

‘As expected, nothing extraordinary.’

As a veteran of Era of Silver 1, I already knew the locations and nature of undiscovered Golden Age ruins.

Yet I’d never considered exploring them, for they held no particular value to me.

‘I don’t need them.’

The ruins hidden in the Magic Realm had little use for me. The knowledge of the Era of Silver in my head—culminating in the peak of the Silver Age a century later—was leagues ahead.

Many advancements during that period stemmed from imperial adventurers excavating Golden Age ruins, deciphering, compiling, and developing the core knowledge.

‘The magical civilization of the Silver Age rivaled or surpassed that of the Golden Age. It wasn’t nicknamed the Platinum Age for nothing.’

I watched the knights stride into the revealed space, their armor catching the faint glow of residual magic. Behind them, priests and mages steadied their breathing, focusing as they entered the ruin.

The atmosphere was thick with mana and dark energy, as expected of the Magic Realm.

“Stay vigilant! Report even the smallest anomaly!”

Balzac, wearing the gravest expression of anyone present, barked orders as his eyes scanned the surroundings. He seemed hopeful that this ruin might hold clues to heal Arina. Р𝘢ɴ𝘰ᛒƐꞨ

Seeing his determination filled me with mixed feelings—sympathy and guilt.

‘Unfortunately, the ruins in the Magic Realm are usually of poor quality…’

When the Golden Age fell, the mages who settled in the Magic Realm were outcasts, even in their own era.

The Magic Realm had served as both a prison and an exile for mages.

‘People today hold overly romanticized views of the Golden Age.’

The era was impressive, sure—akin to merging ancient Rome, Egypt, and China’s Song Dynasty at their peaks.

But it wasn’t some utopia like Atlantis or the mythical Yao and Shun periods.

‘Especially the ruins here in the Magic Realm.’

As I examined the grotesque markings on the walls, my expression soured. The inscriptions were inhuman and macabre, reminiscent of Aztec sacrificial rituals.

‘These ruins should be sealed off when this is over.’

No wonder the Empire had left the Magic Realm largely untouched. There were neither valuable materials nor useful knowledge to be found here.

Clearing my throat, I addressed the group.

“According to reports, there may be children here who haven’t yet begun learning magic.”

The ruins and the Magic Realm itself might be unnecessary, but I had one reason for personally coming here: talent.

“Do not kill indiscriminately! If there are children, they can be trained into capable mages with proper guidance.”

The Renslet domain sorely lacked skilled individuals.

Isaac, in his wanderings, had likely handpicked promising talents for this place.

‘If we’re lucky, we might even find a child gifted in spirit magic!’

The thought of having more human-shaped heavy artillery made my heart race.

“Understood. After all, what fault could children have?”

“Well… if it’s Count Jin’s request, we’ll do our best to comply.”

Reluctant as they were, the knights and priests agreed to follow my orders.

Had I not been present, they might have killed everyone here and claimed they found no survivors.

“Are you planning to raise the children under the Arad Group?” a mage asked curiously.

“No, I don’t intend to run an orphanage. I’ll send them to an academy—ensure the Mage Society takes care of them.”

“Understood! We’ll handle it!”

The mages, less averse to black magic than the priests, were visibly excited by the prospect.

With a mix of excitement and determination, we scoured the Magic Realm’s depths.

“Something feels off. It’s too quiet,” a knight muttered.

Our expressions grew tense as time passed.

“Could they have fled?”

The ruins weren’t vast, but their depth and complexity required careful exploration.

Still, by now, we should have encountered some sign of life—voices, movements, anything.

Beep.

‘??’

Then, the radar disc I held displayed a signal—clearly artificial.

“There’s something behind that wall.”

I pointed to the direction of the signal, and Balzac ordered the knights, “You heard him! Cut it down!”

Like living guillotines, the knights sliced through the wall.

“It could be a trap or a decoy. The signal seems suspicious,” I cautioned.

“Duly noted,” Balzac replied.

With one final kick, he sent the sliced wall crumbling backward, revealing a hidden chamber.

“Heh heh… Rest assured, there’s no trap.”

A calm, raspy voice greeted us from within.

“Who’s there?!” Balzac demanded, his sword emitting a cold aura.

“So you’re the Frostblade Balzac. This is the first time we met in person.”

Despite facing the killing intent of a Swordmaster, the figure inside remained unperturbed.

He appeared to be an elderly man, clad in an opulent robe befitting a high-ranking mage.

“...What in the world?”

“By the gods.”

The sight within the chamber was horrific—corpses strewn about, ranging from children to young adults, all clad in black robes.

“Did you kill them all?”

“I spared them as much pain as possible. An old man’s mercy.”

The dead were unmistakably the low-level black mages and children we had sought.

Balzac’s breath hitched, but not because of the bodies.

“This man… he’s no ordinary mage, Arad,” he murmured.

“I’m aware,” I replied grimly.

The sheer aura, mana, and presence radiating from the old man were extraordinary.

“Who could he be?”

“If my guess is correct…”

“Hmm? Do you know him?”

“Yes, most likely.”

I stepped forward and addressed the man.

“Why has the highest authority of the Golden Tower graced such a dismal place?”

The man, whose identity I had never expected to confirm in this world, stood before me.

My instincts—and the 2D illustration from Era of Silver 1—confirmed it.

The elderly figure before me was none other than Yulkanes, the Archmage and master of the Empire’s Golden Tower.

“Hoho?”

When I addressed him by name, his golden eyes glimmered with a peculiar light.

“What?!”

“Yulkanes?!”

The startled voices of my companions rang out behind me. They’d sensed the old man wasn’t ordinary, but no one had expected this.

“So, you’re the Northern Sorcerer, Arad Jin?”

Yulkanes fixed his piercing gaze solely on me.

“I’m not sure about the ‘sorcerer’ part, but yes, I am Count Arad Jin.”

Considering who he was, I spoke with the utmost respect. His status, age, and abilities certainly merited deference, even from someone as prideful as me.

“You recognized me instantly. Have we met before?”

“I’ve heard the rumors carried by the wind, but this is our first time meeting in person.”

“Hmm…”

Yulkanes scrutinized me with a curious intensity, his gaze both probing and calculating.

Flash!

Suddenly, his golden eyes shimmered unnaturally.

‘Mental magic!’

There was no mistaking it. The old man was attempting a mental probe.

‘…?’

Yet, nothing happened.

“?!”

Yulkanes widened his eyes slightly, clearly surprised that his spell had failed.

‘What’s going on?’

I was just as baffled.

An 8th-circle Archmage’s mental magic wasn’t something that could be casually blocked, not even with the protective artifacts I carried.

‘Could it be…?’

Then it hit me—perhaps it was because of my exposure to the transformation necklace I often used. If so, it was a surprising but welcome side effect.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, both sizing each other up with heightened wariness.

“Are the children here… you’re doing?”

Feigning calm, I gestured toward the bodies strewn around the chamber.

“They are.”

“Why kill them? Isn’t it a waste of their talents?”

Yulkanes smirked at my question.

“And here I thought the so-called Northern Sorcerer might understand.”

He chuckled softly before explaining.

“Children with a talent for black magic often possess souls that appeal to dark spirits. That usually means there’s something deeply flawed in their nature. They feel no aversion to harming others or causing pain—in fact, it excites them.”

With a wave of his hand, Yulkanes ignited the bodies, reducing them to ashes. In this place, precautions against undead reanimation were necessary.

‘They could have been trained with proper conditioning…’

I silently clicked my tongue. It seemed wasteful to kill them over such a reason, especially when reformation was possible with mental spells.

“Why did you come here yourself, Master of the Golden Tower? You’re said to be a very busy man.”

There was no need to ask how he’d arrived. As the continent’s only 8th-circle mage, teleportation across vast distances was trivial for him.

‘But what’s his purpose?’

That was the real question. What could this decrepit ruin offer to make him personally visit?

“The instinct of a mage,” Yulkanes said with a wry smile. “Sometimes, you just know when the person you wish to meet will arrive.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

“Indeed.”

“There must still be a rat in the High Tower, then. My movements are highly classified.”

“Haha, no need for suspicion. Allow me to clarify and spare any innocent parties from blame.”

Still smiling benignly, Yulkanes gestured to his shoulder, where an owl suddenly landed.

“At my level, controlling a familiar over great distances is a simple task.”

He stroked the owl’s feathers as he continued.

“I can’t see or hear clearly from such a range, but I can sense general movements and directions. That’s how I knew to be here.”

Typical of mages with TMI tendencies, he offered far more information than I’d asked for, as if he were bragging.

“Wow… That’s incredible. You 8th-circle mages are truly extraordinary!”

Feigning admiration, I showered him with praise, hoping he might let slip more useful details.

“Haha! And there’s more—hm? Ahem!”

Caught up in his own enthusiasm, Yulkanes had almost continued before catching himself and coughing.

“Enough about me. You’re the remarkable one, Count Jin.”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me again, his expression one of suspicion.

The tension in the air escalated as Balzac and the knights began infusing their swords with mana.

Whether or not Yulkanes intended harm, he was one of the Empire’s most dangerous assets.

“Calm down, everyone,” Yulkanes said hastily, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I have no intention of kidnapping the Northern Sorcerer or fighting you. Even for me, crossing swords with the Frostblade would be… burdensome.”

“Neither will flattery sway us,” Balzac retorted coldly.

“Of course. I came here simply to talk, since it seemed unlikely you’d ever visit the Empire on your own.”

As I motioned for Balzac and the knights to stand down, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement, unease, and curiosity.

‘Yulkanes. The father of magitech in the Empire, the restorer of mana engines, and the pioneer of mana circuits.’

This was a legendary figure, one of the most famous names from the game’s lore. Even in Era of Silver 1, set 100 years after his time, Yulkanes’ name frequently appeared.

For those in crafting professions, his image would often accompany tutorials or congratulatory messages.

My heart pounded, a visceral reaction from the body I inhabited. To Arad Jin, a master of crafting and creation, meeting Yulkanes was like a soccer fan meeting a global superstar.

‘What kind of person is he, really? Could the rumors be true—that he’s a dragon in disguise, playing games with mortals?’

Updated from freewёbnoνel.com.

That question lingered in my mind as I faced him.

“Why did you come to see me?” I asked, striving to maintain composure and hide my excitement.

Yulkanes didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his golden eyes examined me closely, as if searching for something.

“There’s something… alien about your soul,” he murmured. “And considering how easily you shrugged off my mental attack…”

“?!”

His quiet musings sent a chill down my spine.

“Your aura, your mana—it’s no higher than that of a low-tier mage. But… could there exist a form of polymorph far beyond our understanding?”

“…?”

He muttered to himself a little longer before his gaze turned sharp, and he spoke directly to me—not aloud, but through telepathy.

[Tell me… Are you one of the Great Ones?]