Magician in Type-Moon

Page 665

"Is that so... I understand." He nodded slightly to the servant who answered, his face revealing neither joy nor anger.

That heroine could not possibly have been unaware of this strange change sweeping across the territory.

Her move clearly indicates that she has no intention of getting involved.

The meaning is clear: this matter is an internal dispute within the Izeruma branch family, and not a case that the main family, Balyeleta, would directly intervene in.

“If Lord Inolai has no intention of getting involved…” Lord Byron repeated in a low voice, his gaze turning towards the turbulent forest outside the window, his eyes growing colder and more resolute.

"...That's fine too."

Chapter 690 Betrayal? (4k)

Despite this, Bai Longqing tried to convince himself and forced himself to suppress the ominous premonition.

However, one thing, like a fine, poisonous thorn stuck in his fingertip that was difficult to remove, continued to cause hidden pain, interfering with his ability to concentrate on dealing with the crisis and sowing the seeds of doubt.

Initially, he naturally assumed that the tragic deaths of Princess Tiadera and her maid Karina were a despicable trick by the opposing faction.

Like their ancestral family, the Izeruma family belongs to the democratic faction within the Clock Tower.

It is not surprising that they would engage in some insidious sabotage by those arrogant aristocrats led by Barthezello, and even those self-proclaimed neutral but actually wavering fence-sitters.

Because in the endless power struggles of the Clock Tower, human life—especially the lives of others—is inherently insignificant and meaningless.

However, what was quietly sprouting and rapidly growing in his mind at this moment was a completely different possibility, one that should have chilled him to the bone.

"Could it be... that Lord Baruyeleta... Lord Inole himself has personally conspired with 'those people' in some kind of way?"

He instinctively wanted to deny the idea.

He wanted to scream and deny the idea.

That's Inolei, the leader of the family, and nominally their most steadfast ally.

It is a kind of reverence for those in power, and also a subconscious maintenance of the existing order.

However, the coldness and suspicion deeply ingrained in his bones, the very essence of a magician, whispered in his ear:

This... is by no means impossible. In fact, it is highly likely to happen.

If it is necessary for the further "development" of magic, the main family will not hesitate to take away the secret treasures that the branch family has painstakingly developed, or even the "talents" that they have carefully cultivated. This is nothing new in the history of the magic world.

If a family attempts to rebel after splitting up, it is not uncommon for their blood relatives and lineage to be completely erased from history.

Belonging to a faction means that while enjoying its protection and preferential treatment in terms of resources, one must also constantly bear the "disadvantage" of potentially being used as a pawn or sacrifice.

No...it's not just that.

If this assumption holds true, then...

My thoughts, like wild horses, rushed towards an even darker abyss.

"Could it be... that the real source of the orders for the murderer of the Golden Princess was also..."

An exceptionally terrifying possibility, capable of overturning all understanding, struck Bai Longqing's mind like a cold lightning bolt, almost suffocating him.

A possibility that could freeze the soul, a possibility that bordered on blasphemy, struck Byron's mind like a black lightning bolt.

He couldn't deny it; he couldn't even find a single piece of evidence to refute this terrifying conjecture.

Because he knew better than anyone that once someone was labeled a "magician," no matter how genuinely fond one might have been of that person, one could never give them complete trust.

Beneath that human skin lies a non-human monster willing to sell everything in order to reach the source;

It is a pure "vector" designed to clear the way, and will not hesitate to tear apart and crush even the closest of relatives who stand in its way.

otherwise--

A nearly self-mocking scream escaped Bai Longqing's mind—

Who would want to be a magician? Isn't this the dark destiny that one has already accepted and acquiesced to when embarking on this cruel path?

"...Ahh."

He let out a hoarse sound, like rusty gears grinding against each other, groaned in pain, and nodded, acknowledging the terrible but reasonable conjecture.

"...If it were Lord Inola, he might actually accept those 'nouveau riche'."

He walked along the empty corridor, muttering to himself, his voice carrying a complex and indelible disgust mixed with contempt and fear.

"Isn't the 'democracy' core of the Clock Tower just like this in the end? She might casually declare that we should recognize those forces with 'drive' and 'new blood' and believe that as magicians who seek the roots, we should accept the 'new changes' of the times with equanimity."

The Izeruma family also belonged to the democratic faction within the Clock Tower.

This means recognizing that absolute bloodline theory should be broken to some extent, and instead, the camp of recruiting "outstanding talents" who truly possess ability and value should be established.

However, this does not mean that they accepted everything without reservation.

Deeply ingrained in Byron's bones, the instinct belonging to his ancient magician lineage would inevitably draw his gaze toward the "past," toward the solid foundation built from bloodline and heritage. That ancient instinct spoke volumes within his soul:

Only pure bloodlines accumulated over a long period of time and through rigorous selection truly possess irreplaceable power and value.

"Beauty itself is beautiful. Even if it is only brilliant for a short moment, like the ephemeral beauty of the night-blooming cereus, doesn't its existence itself possess undeniable value?"

All we have to do is run as fast as we can through this fleeting moment—

Similarly, the present era should not be bound by outdated traditions, but rather led and managed by those who are alive in the present and possess the talents of the present. This is precisely our (Baruyeleta's) belief.

The words Enolae had spoken at that grand social gathering now echoed in his mind like a ghost.

exactly.

The core of the enduring ideals promoted by the Institute of Creative Science lies in this: pursuing the ultimate in the moment and embracing the vitality of the present.

However, ideals are often distant illusions that cannot be reached. We magicians must survive in this cold and cruel reality, and must constantly consolidate and expand our foothold until we touch the root.

So, what if we add a cruel assumption?

If, in order to recruit so-called "new talents" and embrace so-called "new changes," the sacrifices we are prepared to give up are... our own blood relatives?

This thought, like the coldest dagger, pierced through all his wishful thinking.

"........."

He made a dull sound, almost like grinding his teeth, a hissing sound bursting from the depths of his throat when extreme anger and determination were forcibly suppressed.

At this moment——

Boom!

A pale bolt of lightning tore through the sky, followed by a deafening roar of thunder, as if the heavens and earth themselves were trembling.

The sudden burst of intense lightning whitened the huge arched windows in the corridor and clearly reflected the gentleman's profile, twisted with anger, onto the cold glass.

But the electric light reflected more than just his ashen face.

In the instant the light flashed, the shadow he cast on the wall behind him—was suddenly stretched, distorted, and expanded—

As if breaking free from the constraints of physical form, it transformed into a ferocious demon with bared fangs and horns, clinging tightly and oppressively to the ancient stone wall, before disappearing into the darkness as the light faded.

“…Very good.” Bai Longqing’s voice rang out in the afterglow of the thunder, deep and smooth, yet containing a deathly stillness before the storm that was more unsettling than the thunder itself.

“Then I, Baron Balereta Izeruma… will personally show you—”

His words paused at that moment, the metal base of his cane striking the marble floor with a crisp, resolute sound, as if setting the stage for what he was about to say.

"—The fools who attempt to desecrate the 'beauty' of Izeluma will eventually pay the price."

.........

In the very center of the forest, the air was heavy and humid, filled with the smell of decaying earth and plants.

Several figures moved swiftly through the lush, dense grass, almost suffocatingly thick, like ghosts.

They roughly pushed aside the waist-high, sharp-edged grass and charged toward the towering Izeruma Twin Towers in the distance.

They displayed astonishing certainty about their route, without any hesitation, as if they had an invisible compass implanted in their bodies.

The rugged ground, the tangled tree roots, and the thick ivy that tried to entangle and obstruct them were all easily ignored or broken free by them with some inhuman, almost brutal force.

If the scene were set back to the primitive era not long ago, this sight would be enough for a terrified eyewitness to mistake it for an army of demons marching from the abyss.

Without exception, everyone in the group was dressed in the same uniform.

Their dark green hoods were pulled down low, obscuring their faces, and matching cloaks billowed behind them as they moved rapidly, cleverly blending their figures into the shadows of the forest and further amplifying the inhuman, threatening imagery.

Boom——!

Thunder rumbled across the sky again, like a furious roar as the heavens were torn apart.

Immediately afterwards, the raindrops pounded down—not a gentle drizzle, but a violent downpour that seemed to shatter the entire earth.

Large raindrops instantly soaked everything, a deafening splashing sound echoed through the woods, and visibility quickly blurred.

However, the attackers, drenched in the freezing rain, showed no sign of annoyance; instead, they wore smug and ferocious smiles.

Because they knew that this was no ordinary celestial phenomenon, but rather a powerful "support" given to them.

A rainstorm that was either man-made or cleverly guided.

This strong logistical support was greatly encouraging these attacking magicians. At the same time, they also understood that the rain was relentlessly stripping away and washing away the many protective barriers erected by the Izeruma family, which relied on the land's spiritual veins.

The rain soaked the soil, disrupting the pure flow of magic and tearing an invisible gap in their attack.

A man suddenly looked up, and rainwater slid down the edge of his hood.

In the open area of ​​the woods ahead, a gentleman stood quietly in the pouring rain. He stood tall and straight, leaning on an antique-style cane, as if he had been waiting there for a long time. The torrential rain seemed to deliberately avoid his surroundings, forming a blurred, distorted patch of dryness.

"...Bai Longqing."

The attacker, looking up, uttered the name through clenched teeth, his voice mingling with the sound of rain and carrying a hint of barely perceptible surprise.

"That's really something."

Bai Longqing's voice pierced the rain steadily, carrying an almost admiring, icy tone.

"Skillfully guiding or even 'manufacturing' the weather to turn it into an advantage for the attack? This land is inherently a region with a changeable climate, and its spiritual veins are easily disturbed... But I have never encountered an opponent who can manipulate the weather with such precision and beauty."

He accurately assessed the extraordinary power displayed by the attackers.

He fully understood how difficult it was for modern magicians to perform and maintain weather magic of this scale and precision.

Or rather, it is precisely because of the difficulty that the other party was able to achieve this, which further highlights their formidable preparation and strength.

In a battle between magicians, the most important thing is always to see through the essence and origin of each other's respective spells first.