The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower-Chapter 325

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Chapter 325: Terror (3)

A memory from the past surfaces.

It was near the end of the war against the Demonic Race.

The White Tower and the Yellow Tower had joined forces, forming a united front in an attempt to drive back the demonic army.

“……”

“……”

Hundreds of tents had been erected across the plains.

It was a place that looked like a small city, into which hundreds of mages were filing in.

These were the Yellow Tower’s mages, assigned to reconnaissance duty before the operation began.

Their gazes were fixed on the ground, and they looked strangely vacant, as if their spirits had been drained.

“What’s with them? Why’s the mood so grim?”

At Oscar’s question as he watched them from in front of a large tent, Magiro whispered quietly.

“W–well, a report just came in. They say Isel is dead.”

“……Isel? You mean Isel Marcos?”

Oscar asked back in shock.

Isel Marcos—the Yellow Tower Master’s right-hand man, a seventh-level mage who could never be left out when speaking of the Yellow Tower.

“I was surprised too. With his skills, I thought he’d be able to survive anywhere, at least keep himself alive.”

“That’s the terror of war. Anyone can die, anytime, anywhere.”

Radan muttered with his arms crossed.

The three of them watched the Yellow Tower mages enter like defeated soldiers, their expressions complicated.

Today they were the ones offering sympathy—but by tomorrow, their positions could be reversed.

Just then, Oscar’s eyes met those of the Yellow Tower Master as he passed by.

Oscar cautiously spoke.

“You must be deeply grieving.”

“…….”

The Yellow Tower Master, Pentarion Ereus, stared at him in silence.

A face impossible to read, even in this situation.

Eyes that revealed no emotion, despite having lost a subordinate and friend he had spent decades with.

“Are you… consoling me? You?”

“……I know we’re not close enough for that, but on a day like today, wouldn’t it be acceptable?”

“Indeed. How amusing.”

That was probably the first time Oscar ever saw Pentarion smile.

“Let me give you one piece of advice. Do not offer me consolation lightly.”

“…….”

Though it sounded like a provocation, Oscar did not respond.

To him, it looked like the Yellow Tower Master’s way of managing his grief—

the thrashing of a wounded beast trying to protect itself.

As Pentarion passed him and entered the tent, Magiro let out a hollow laugh.

“Hah, what was that? Did the old man lose his mind after losing a friend?”

“Magiro.”

“No, seriously. Did we kill him? Why’s he picking a fight with the Tower Master?”

Oscar ignored Magiro’s complaints and stared at the entrance of the tent Pentarion had gone into.

And now—

“Have you lost your mind?”

With Isel’s voice, Oscar’s consciousness and senses snapped back to reality.

Crackle, crackle.

In his slightly lowered field of vision, remnants crawled across the floor like worms.

‘I thought he was dead… but he was alive?’

Oscar raised his head to look at Isel before him, his eyes growing complicated.

Naturally—until now, he had believed Isel to be dead.

‘Betrayal? Did he side with the Demonic Race just to survive? Or if not…’

A dizzying thought flashed through his mind.

To confirm whether that hypothesis was true, Oscar slowly opened his mouth.

“Isel Marcos. Elder of the Yellow Tower, reported killed during the war.”

“Hmm?”

Isel’s eyes widened slightly, as if genuinely surprised.

“You know me?”

“It’d be strange not to. You’re an indispensable figure when explaining the modern Yellow Tower.”

“Heh heh.”

Isel smacked his lips, smiling benevolently.

“How regrettable. That I must personally break such a promising young talent.”

“Then just let me live.”

“That would be difficult. Now that you’ve seen my face, I cannot allow you to live.”

So he had intended to kill him from the start.

Crunch… crack!

Oscar stepped on and erased the remnants beneath his feet as he spoke.

“Before I head to the afterlife, there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Even if I can’t grant the wishes of the dead, I can at least satisfy the curiosity of the living. Ask.”

“Did you die and come back to life, senior? Or did you pretend to be dead from the start?”

“…….”

Isel continued smiling kindly.

Seeing that, Oscar nodded.

“Judging by your silence, I suppose it’s the latter.”

“Hm. I considered it, but you seem like too dangerous a sprout to leave behind.”

Isel Marcos had faked his death.

Then why?

Oscar let out a dry laugh.

“Faking an accident through the war… becoming a fixer who handles all of the Yellow Tower’s dirty work. Isn’t that a one-sided loss for you?”

“Yin and yang, white and black. All things must exist in balance to be beautiful. You can never reach the summit by walking only clean, orderly paths.”

“Was it the Yellow Tower Master’s order? Did he tell you to destroy the airport because it interfered with the Tower’s business?”

“Everything I do is out of loyalty.”

Now Oscar was curious.

Just how thoroughly had the Yellow Tower Master brainwashed him to inspire such blind devotion?

“And what do you gain in return?”

“That the Yellow Tower is recorded as the greatest mage tower in history—the victor of the long wars between mage towers.”

“……How futile.”

That was sincere.

Oscar’s White Tower had been called the greatest in history—and recorded as the victor.

It took exactly twenty years

for that lofty honor, once so high it couldn’t even be seen by looking up,

to be buried in the dirt.

“Whether it is futile or not is something we will experience firsthand. It is not for a junior like you to worry about.”

“Do as you please. But senior—allow me one final question.”

“What is it?”

“After the war, a green dragon was flying above the Red Mountain Range.”

Oscar’s gaze turned icy.

“Were you the one who shot her down?”

“…….”

For the first time, Isel’s smile vanished.

“Answer me.”

“……This conversation has gone on long enough. I refuse to waste any more time.”

“That settles it. It was you.”

Oscar had always wondered

whether the lightning that brought Edna down had come from the Yellow Tower Master—or someone else.

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‘Whoever it was, I intended to take revenge…’

But to think he’d meet them this early, and in such an unexpected place.

Oscar lightly turned his head.

“Since you’re officially dead on paper, I’ll send you off without a shred of guilt.”

“Tch. Knowing who I am, you still dare to speak like that?”

Crackle—crack!

Brilliant lightning burst from Isel’s fingertips.

A seventh-level mage of the Yellow Tower who once roamed the continent with a single bolt of lightning.

“Violet Lightning, Isel Marcos.”

“I will send you off without pain.”

Crack—zzzt!

As he stretched out his hand, violet lightning tore violently through the air.

A strike that reached its target in an instant—so fast there was no time to blink.

‘His skill hasn’t dulled. Just like a mage once called the most Yellow-Tower-like of them all.’

His signature art—violet lightning, faster than ordinary lightning.

A fledgling seventh-level mage would have died without even reacting.

But Oscar had overwhelming experience.

‘And I have magic as well.’

In his previous life, he trained endlessly and researched countless spells to face every mage tower.

Because of that time, he possessed magic capable of countering lightning—one of the trickiest elements.

Oscar extended his hand forward as if gently grasping something, his lips moving.

“Umbrella.”

Pah—ang!

A thin veil of wind spread open from his hand, literally forming an umbrella.

Isel flinched when he saw it.

‘…Umbrella? Don’t tell me—’

As Isel unconsciously shook his head—

Crackle—zzzzzt!

The violet lightning struck the umbrella, producing a sound like thousands of cicadas crying at once.

‘An umbrella doesn’t block rain. It merely redirects it.’

The umbrella Oscar held was no different.

The single bolt split into dozens of branches, sliding along the ribs and flowing away.

The current that entered the umbrella could not gather in one place, nor remain in any one spot.

Zzt—crackle.

The color of the electricity gradually faded as it slid along the ribs—

from deep violet, to navy-tinged blue, then to pale white.

Eventually, lightning that no longer deserved the name “violet lightning” lost all color and dissipated weakly.

Snap!

Oscar folded the umbrella and muttered.

“For lightning to strike, the sky is far too clear today.”

“You…!”

Isel glared at Oscar with bulging eyes.

It wasn’t merely that a newly promoted seventh-level mage had blocked his lightning.

He was shocked because he had seen that magic decades ago.

‘That is… Oscar Sage’s magic!’

In the past, a single umbrella he wielded had driven countless Yellow Tower mages into despair.

The one saving grace was that not just anyone could wield that umbrella.

Rapid spell deployment, delicate mana control, complex calculations—

it was deemed a spell impossible to use in real combat.

‘And more importantly—if you deploy the umbrella first, it means nothing.’

Attack trajectories could always be adjusted.

Since the umbrella couldn’t protect the entire body, deploying it early was practically an invitation.

‘Above all, a mage who only defends can endure—but never win.’

The reason Oscar Sage had been feared was simple:

he could block instantaneous lightning and counterattack.

‘Wait… don’t tell me?’

A chill ran down Isel’s spine.

He instinctively moved sideways.

It was the correct choice.

A blade of wind crashed into the spot where he had been standing.

“You’re perceptive.”

“Damn it. A mage with talent rivaling Oscar Sage—and of all places, the White Tower!”

Crunch!

Grinding his teeth, Isel drew up more mana.

“I’ll see just how long you can keep that precious umbrella open!”

Boom! Crash! Shatter!

The airport ceiling and walls—every pane of glass—shattered as dozens, hundreds of lightning bolts rained down.

“Ah.”

Watching the scene, Oscar felt a dizzy sensation.

‘The repair costs alone would be…’

Pah—ang!

Snapping out of it, he hurriedly opened the umbrella again, lowered his stance, and hid behind it.

Dudududududu!

The electric strikes battered the umbrella like bullets, scattering and vanishing again and again.

Each time, chunks of mana were torn away.

‘Ghk.’

In his previous life, he could block all incoming lightning and counterattack with ease.

But now, it was too much.

At this level of assault, merely holding out was his limit.

‘Where the hell is Sasha? What is she doing?’

If she was even slightly late—

he might die here today.

* * *

At the same time, Gate F.

Sasha arrived at an area filled with airship waiting seats.

“…….”

There, a man in a gray coat stood with his hands clasped behind his back, gazing into the hangar through the glass wall.

The reason she had come was clear.

Someone’s mana signature had called out to her.

“Why did you call me here?”

“There is a reason I had to.”

“If you don’t have anything important to say, I’m leaving. I don’t have time to joke around with you.”

“Oscar Crucian? If it’s him, there’s no need to worry. I’ve already taken care of it.”

“And why should I trust the words of the Violet Brigade’s captain?”

“……Designer. That fellow must have told you my location.”

Letting out a faint sigh, the man tossed a line toward Sasha as she turned to leave.

“Do you want to know the whereabouts of Gilliot Dominic?”

She stopped.

Sasha slowly turned around.

From her once gentle-looking body, mana befitting the seat of the White Tower Master poured forth unceasingly.

“I’ll warn you—don’t speak that name lightly in front of me.”

“The fact that you didn’t leave immediately tells me you suspect I have information on him.”

Still facing the window, the captain spoke.

“They’re having quite the party over there. Shall we have a little fun too? If you defeat me—”

“Keep your promise.”

Before he could finish his sentence—

Winds surged from all directions, converging on him.

“……Impatient, despite appearances.”

Still showing his back, the captain snapped his fingers.

[Translator - Night]

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