Magician in Type-Moon

Page 587

A sharp, intense pain came clearly, ruthlessly shattering any lingering hope of a "dream".

Reality is cold and hard.

However, this "reality" itself is more magical than the most absurd fantasy!

The Albion Great Tomb, containing planetary wonders, ancient dragon remains, and the foundation of the Clock Tower, was quietly transformed into a temple serving the new gods, right under the noses of the highest decision-makers and without her, a key assistant, knowing a thing or two…

It was as if a page had been torn directly from the wildest fantasy novel and crudely pasted into the reality she knew.

The line between reality and fantasy became completely blurred at this moment.

Seeing Tica's seemingly soulless and utterly bewildered state, the monarch of Meastia offered no comfort whatsoever. Instead, as if he had witnessed an amusing reaction, his delighted smile deepened.

"Alright, alright, take back that worthless attitude of yours."

He waved his hand dramatically, as if dispelling some unsightly dust, his tone light and almost teasing.

"As a member of the archaeology department, shouldn't 'excavating' relics of this caliber be a joyful thing?"

Meastia spread his hands, looking at his assistant Tica with a helpless expression.

He deliberately emphasized the word "excavation," his eyes gleaming with the pure, almost greedy excitement of an archaeologist facing an unprecedented, ultimate relic.

In his eyes, the Albion Great Tomb—the oldest, most magnificent, and most mysterious "fossil" on this planet—

Transforming it into a temple was not destruction or desecration, but rather the completion of the greatest "archaeological excavation" and "relic revitalization" in history!

Isn't this the ultimate achievement that every archaeologist dreams of? His outstretched hands seemed to be embracing this "masterpiece," while his "helpless" expression expressed his "regret" that Tica couldn't understand his ecstasy.

It was as if this was really a trivial matter.

His demeanor and tone casually equated the earth-shattering act of altering the foundation of the clock tower and hollowing out the remains of an ancient dragon—an act capable of overturning the entire world of magic—with the discovery of an interesting ancient pottery jar.

Tica rubbed her forehead, trying to pull herself out of the dizziness that felt like she'd been hit by a hammer.

He pressed his fingertips hard against his temples, trying to dispel the persistent, buzzing tinnitus and the swirling, gray lights before his eyes. The mental dizziness brought on by the cognitive shock was a hundred times more intense than deciphering ten ancient clay tablets overnight.

After a moment of confusion, she looked at Meastia and asked her as if in surrender:

"So what shall we do next, Lady Meastia?"

The voice carried obvious fatigue and a deep sense of powerlessness. Faced with the other party's overwhelming, almost irrational "archaeological" fervor and the already established reality, any questioning, shock, or anger seemed pale and powerless.

She gave up on thinking about the rightness or wrongness and madness of this behavior, just as she gave up steering in a storm and could only ask the captain of this crazy ship—where to go next?

"Of course, it's the most important step!"

Meastia's eyes suddenly burst forth with a light even more dazzling and fervent than before!

His voice suddenly rose, filled with an unquestionable excitement and anticipation, like a pilgrim about to touch a sacred object.

It was as if everything done before—subverting perceptions, altering the foundation, and stealing the dragon's remains—was just a trivial prelude.

Meastia walked to Tica's side and took the black briefcase from her without hesitation.

"Phew... We've finally reached this point." She murmured to herself, her fingers lightly brushing against the box clasp, and several runes resembling star trails lit up in response.

"Click." With a crisp sound, the lid of the box slowly opened, revealing a formal dress that shimmered with cold light inside.

That is the supreme ceremonial attire of the Meastia family—Gemini (Negation of Oneness).

Meastia lowered her head and gazed at it for a moment, then gracefully took out her formal attire, gently fiddling with her fingertips at a few joints.

"Snap, snap," the formal attire unfolded one by one like mechanical dolls, revealing a delicate, transparent enchanting tube.

"Alright, the prerequisites have been met." He glanced back at Tika, a rare hint of a serious smile appearing on his face.

"Thank you so much, little Tika."

Without hesitation, he plunged the tip of the tube into his bare arm. Instantly, crimson blood, like a demonic torrent infused into his soul, meandered through the tube into the inner garment.

"Tsk...it really does hurt a bit." He frowned, then relaxed.

Immediately afterwards, the previously motionless formal attire began to tremble slightly.

It was as if the blood flowing through the transparent tube was the pulsating blood of the formal attire itself.

A mechanical pulse, "click-click," emanated from deep within the formal attire, as steady and orderly as if the spine were being awakened segment by segment.

The once quiet, transparent glass tube suddenly lit up, its front end shimmering with a faint glow—as if some kind of magic was quietly weaving and fermenting within it.

That was not an ordinary magical glow, but a kind of "miraculous" woven light.

It is neither a simple projection nor a magical graphic, but a radiance that defines existence.

It intertwines, intersects, and twists, each overlap carrying precise proportions and timing control, as if writing "equivalence" in the language of light.

What followed were streams of light emanating from the tube—as thin as silk and as dense as a waterfall.

They spiraled, twisted, and swirled out, converging in mid-air to form clear outlines.

Chapter 622 Guilt (4k)

In the air thick with ancient dust and the lingering magic of the remodeled temple, Tica's gaze was firmly drawn to what was in Meastia's palm.

It was not a single treasure, but several gems that radiated different lights, with stars flowing inside or runes appearing within.

As if they were alive, they slowly rotated and intertwined under the guidance of Meastia's magic, forming a complex and mysterious miniature array.

Each gemstone exudes a unique and ancient aura, clearly indicating an extraordinary origin.

Looking at the colorful gems interwoven together before her, Tica asked with some confusion:

"what is this?"

Her voice was filled with pure bewilderment.

The shapes and magical properties of these gems were unlike anything she had ever seen in archaeological discoveries or magical artifacts.

“You don’t know? That’s quite normal,” Meastia said casually, as if she were showing off an ordinary collectible.

"After all, this is a key that belongs exclusively to the monarchs."

The word "key" instantly imbued these gems with a completely different meaning.

They are no longer just treasures, but tokens that unlock core permissions and symbolize the bloodline and inheritance of the twelve monarch families!

"Then why are there so many? And why use the negation of duality to..." Tica was even more puzzled.

Doubt quickly turned into deeper unease.

Why were there several? Moreover, she clearly sensed that Meastia was performing an extremely subtle magic trick that required intense concentration—"Negation of Duality"—

This is applied to these gem arrays. This seems extremely unusual and...deliberate.

"Because these aren't mine."

Meastia said frankly.

He casually offered his answer, his tone so natural that it was as if he were saying, "I borrowed these breads from next door."

"Not yours?! Lady Meastia! Are you kidding me? This is...a crime!!"

Tika was completely dumbfounded.

The word "crime" practically screamed from her lips! All the blood seemed to rush to her head, only to freeze in the next second! Stealing the heirloom key of a monarchical family?!

This is no ordinary theft! This is the most blatant desecration and declaration of war against the millennia-old foundation of the Clock Tower and the dignity of the twelve monarch lineages!

Its severity was enough to shake the entire magic world! Her mind went blank, filled only with immense fear and disbelief.

Tika was completely dumbfounded.

"Don't be so startled, Tika."

Faced with her assistant's near-collapse accusations and shock, Meastia simply shrugged, her face even showing a helpless expression that said, "You're making a big fuss over nothing."

That unnatural calmness was more terrifying to Tika than any crazy declaration.

Tica had no doubt that once this crime was exposed, Meastia would face the Clock Tower's harshest and longest punishment—

Imprisoned in a time-stagnant prison, enduring eternal torment, or broken down into fuel to maintain the magic disk until the soul is annihilated... a thousand years might be a conservative estimate!

However, the person in question acted as if he were merely discussing tomorrow's breakfast, and his nonchalant attitude sent a chill down Tika's spine.

However, Tica was just a researcher, so she naturally couldn't be as nonchalant as Meastia.

A tremendous fear gripped her.

She not only learned of this shocking secret, but was also present at the scene and witnessed the process of creating the "evidence of the crime."

Whether she knew it or not, in the face of the Clock Tower's cold laws and the Department of Law and Politics, her identity was now set in stone—Meastia's accomplice!

The overwhelming fear that swept over my entire body, like falling into an ice cave, came fiercely like a tide, but also receded quickly.

Tica took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her turbulent emotions.

Cold rationality, like a sturdy dam, quickly intercepted and diverted the flood of panic.

As a core researcher in the archaeology department, her thinking has always revolved around logic and analysis.

After the initial shock, my brain immediately started working at high speed, trying to find a reasonable explanation for this desperate situation.

"Lord Meastia, have you already obtained the authorization from those monarchs?" Tica immediately realized.

Her voice regained its composure, even carrying a hint of sharp inquiry.

This was the only logical explanation she could think of for the existence of this pile of "non-own" keys—that the monarchs were not unaware of it, but had chosen a more "secure" way to provide support.

"Don't talk nonsense, little Tika. There are some things you can't just say."

Meastia answered with a smile, his smile still relaxed, but a subtle hint of approval and warning flashed in his eyes.

He neither admitted nor denied it, but simply used an ambiguous reminder to define the boundaries of the topic.

Tika instantly grasped this cruel unspoken rule.

Yes, those behind the scenes who participated in this disruptive gamble needed space to shirk responsibility and a way out in case of failure.

To directly hand over the key that symbolizes the family's authority? That would be tantamount to completely binding oneself to Meastia, which is too risky.

By utilizing the Myastia family's secret ceremonial attire, "Negation of Oneness," they cleverly "steal" the key's link or projection...

This both granted the authority to launch the ceremony and allowed for the attribution of all blame to Meastia's "personal actions" when necessary.

Meastia became the "executor" and "scapegoat" who willingly put on the shackles and stood at the center of the storm.