…The hawk’s field of vision was limited, so it could not grasp the whole story.
However, Deculein had killed the knight, and the knight had fallen from the cliff.
To be precise, the escort knight had tried to kill Deculein first, and Deculein had killed him in self-defense.
No, Deculein had clearly tried to save the knight, so the knight had killed himself.
…Sylvia took every one of those scenes into her eyes. Every word of their conversation into her ears.
With her eyes closed, Sylvia looked at the place where Deculein stood.
A sheer cliff with no visible end—Deculein stood alone on that distant precipice. The fact that he had not fallen was itself a miracle.
Now, the meeting would begin in half a day.
Could he make it from there to Bercht?
Just then, Deculein looked up at the sky. Startled, Sylvia hurriedly called the hawk back.
In any case, once the snowstorm worsened, observation beyond this point would be impossible.
More than anything, the hawk might get hurt.
This child was her first creation, so she would cherish it and keep it with her for a long time. When the mana in its mana stone ran out, she would recharge it too.
“Come back.”
Sylvia said that and opened her eyes.
Once again, it was the scenery of Bercht.
“Oh! Miss Sylvia?”
The moment she let out a sigh and turned around, she ran into someone.
They were the people of the kingdom Sirio had mentioned.
“So you were here~ I really wanted to see you~!”
“The rookie mage of the year. It’s truly an honor to see you in person!”
“I am of the Judra family of the Leok Kingdom…”
“…”
Their fawning reactions felt burdensome to Sylvia.
* * *
Meanwhile, on the tracks of the express train, a high-ranking official was receiving salutes from the platform staff.
“It is an honor, Deputy Director!”
Deputy Director of the Public Security Bureau, Lilia Primien.
By coincidence, she had been camping in the northern mountains; by coincidence, she had heard of the train terror incident; and as deputy director of public security, she had headed to the scene.
“There was an explosion and an attack?”
“Yes. It’s common on the way to Bercht. As for compensation, well, Bercht will pay more than tenfold. It is nothing serious.”
An employee who appeared to be in charge answered. Primien glanced down the cliff and asked again.
“Fatalities?”
“They have not yet been confirmed, but as of now, Professor Deculein and a knight named Veron are missing. As for detailed eyewitness testimony, that gentleman…”
Primien looked in the direction the employee indicated. There was an unknown blond man with a mustache, and Allen. Allen, however, seemed to be asleep on the tracks, while only the man was talking.
“Yes. The mage and the knight saved me, and when I came to my senses, the entire train had already fallen below. I suspect the assassins launched a second attack…”
Primien approached him and pointed to the camera hanging around the man’s neck.
“May I take a look at that?”
“Pardon? Ah, yes. But, you see, this is how I make my living—”
“I will return it right away.”
“Ah, yes.”
The man developed the camera’s film on the spot. As Primien looked through the few shots, she was at a loss for words for a moment.
“…Hah?”
It was a hollow laugh.
Magical film captured one or two seconds before and after the moment a photograph was taken, like a moving image.
In the photograph, the train was floating in midair. The caster was naturally Deculein, and Primien knew the nature of this magic as well.
Telekinesis.
Deculein had lifted the train with telekinesis.
Quite nonchalantly, merely reading a book.
He had an ease about him as if he were manipulating a pencil or the like.
As Primien was looking over the photographs, she soon received certain information from “someone” in “somewhere.”
A mana signal poked at her back.
Primien stood still and interpreted that signal.
[ Knight Veron is dead. ]
[ Veron appeared to have been instigated by someone and attempted to kill Deculein. ]
[ Chief Professor Deculein survived. ]
“…Hmm.”
Primien let out a small sigh.
She knew Knight Veron.
He, too, belonged to the same clan, the “Jeokgwe.”
Though he had many screws loose, he had still been rather commendable in his own way.
It was bitter.
At the same time, it was relieving.
Like Rokhak, he had been a time bomb that would certainly cause trouble one day.
“What do you think of those photographs? Truly, though I took them myself, it was an incredible sight. I also happen to be a magic analyst, so if I may dare assess Professor Deculein’s skill—”
“That’s enough.”
It was just as Primien returned the photographs to the man.
“…G-ghost! It’s a ghost!”
One of the employees screamed. Primien looked that way.
Someone who had not been there a moment ago had climbed up onto the tracks.
She recognized him at a glance.
Chief Professor Deculein.
No one saw the process of his ascent. He simply stood there alone. Without a word, he looked down at the cliff he had climbed.
…He was thinking about his own limits.
Though he had trained his telekinesis to the point of death, it had failed to pierce even a knight’s aura.
A mage lacking mana was this powerless.
Choice and concentration—such half-baked effort could not overcome a natural master.
He had felt a clear wall.
A sense of emptiness rose within him.
Had it not been for that unknown help, the person smashed beneath this cliff would have been none other than himself…
“Chief Professor.”
Primien approached him and spoke.
“The assistant professor is safe over there.”
Deculein looked at Allen on the tracks.
“There is nothing wrong with him, I assume.”
“Yes. That is correct.”
That was all. He turned to look at Primien.
Primien thought anew that his face was damned handsome.
“What time is it now?”
“3:30.”
“…Six hours left.”
He seemed to be calculating whether he could attend the meeting.
However, without a train, climbing this cliff would take at least a full day, considering a mage’s poor stamina.
“Chief Professor. I ask only as a formality, but what happened to the escort knight who was with you?”
“…He died.”
“Was it because of the attack?”
The professor hesitated briefly, then nodded.
“Yes. Professor, by any chance, could you clear these tracks?”
At those words, Deculein tilted his head and looked down at Primien.
As though dealing with a lower being, it was the uniquely arrogant gaze of a noble.
For a moment, something surged up in Primien, but she forced it down.
“If you only clear the tracks, I will summon a train by my authority.”
If the tracks were cleared before the snowstorm grew worse, they could call over a stopped train and somehow increase the possibility of attending the meeting.
In other words—this benefits you, Professor. So why are you glaring at me with those eyes? Making me want to pluck them out…
“Rather than walking, it would be better to—”
“No.”
Primien shut her mouth and rolled her tongue.
In any case, it seemed he had been born with the talent to irritate people.
“…Move aside.”
But in truth, Deculein’s entire body was already exhausted. He had no strength left to cast any more magic.
Because his external condition was far too perfect compared to his ragged inner state, Primien had misunderstood.
“…Yes.”
Primien bowed her head slightly. Then she left Deculein’s side and grabbed one of the employees.
“Hey. He says he won’t help, so clear the tracks before the snow piles up any more.”
“Yes. Understood.”
“…One more question. Is this train the only route to Bercht?”
“No. It is a little far, but there are also land and sea routes on the opposite side.”
“Hmm…?”
As Primien was speaking with the employee, she felt something was strange and turned around.
He was gone.
Deculein had already vanished.
“Was it Haste?”
It seemed he had judged that rather than clearing the tracks, it would be better to run up the cliff using auxiliary magic.
Well, the wind around here was tremendous, so if he borrowed the power of the elements, it would not be impossible…
“Just how much mana does that bastard have?”
His skill was beyond imagination.
No, it was entirely different from the “report.”
He had prevented the train from derailing with telekinesis, repelled dozens of assassins,
faced and defeated Veron, climbed safely up the cliff, and even used Haste, which belonged among high-level spells… Was his mana capacity some kind of ocean?
Primien clicked her tongue.
“Ugh…”
Belatedly, the assistant professor woke up. Primien approached him.
She asked the assistant professor, who was blankly looking around.
“Your name.”
“Yes? Ah, I, this place is…”
“Your professor has already left.”
“…”
At that, Allen’s eyes welled with tears. Primien furrowed her brow and added.
“Not for the afterlife. For the Bercht Meeting. So, your name.”
“Ah, yes! Phew. Yees, I’m, um, Allen.”
Primien wrote down the spelling of the name with practiced ease.
Then, she showed him the notebook.
“Is this the correct spelling?”
Allen nodded.
“Yes. That’s right.”
“Age.”
“I’m twenty-four. But I’m his assistant, so I have to hurry and go…”
“You’re late anyway, so wait for the next train.”
* * *
The current time was 9:30 p.m.
The Bercht Meeting would take place at 9:53, called “the time when the stars gather,” meaning there were only twenty-three minutes left before it began.
Sylvia was walking along the path of Bercht’s Fourth Hall.
“…”
As rumored, the path of the Fourth Hall was complicated. Its passage split into right and left; the family heads, including Gilteon, moved to the right, while their assistants moved to the left.
It was because of the issue of “blood coagulation” that could occur in cases of blood relation.
“Miss Sylvia, how is life at the University Mage Tower?”
“You should try going on a meeting at least once. It’s a kind of experience too.”
As she walked, people kept speaking to her from beside her.
Sylvia answered roughly.
“Yes.”
Like moths gathering to radiant light, this kind of hardship was inevitable and familiar. Because she possessed the “qualities of an archmage,” surpassing mere promise, everyone bothered her like this.
“Ah, right. I hear the head of Yukline still hasn’t arrived.”
Sylvia’s ears perked up. It was Penha, assistant of the kingdom’s magical family, Billion.
“Goodness, if that Yukline is eliminated… that would be a major incident too.”
“A major incident? I think it was somewhat foreseeable. The current head’s abilities are far lacking compared to his ancestors. His achievements also stopped three years ago. There are widespread rumors that his talent is nothing special too.”
This time, it was not someone from the kingdom, but Jailen, assistant of the imperial Rewind family, who spoke.
Sylvia’s lips itched, but she said nothing.
Mediocrities envied geniuses, and geniuses recognized geniuses. Deculein’s talent was only lacking compared to mine; it is not so low that the likes of you can look down on him.
“Ah, it’s over there.”
After walking and chattering like that, they finally stood before the doors of the Elders’ Hall.
The Elders’ Hall was a magnificent temple. Because it had been built by carving out an entire mountain peak, it resembled the dwelling where an ancient giant had once stayed.
Creeeeak—
As they approached, the doors opened as though they had been waiting. The nineteen assistants, each tense in their own way, entered.
A vast conference chamber.
At a sprawling round table that would have room to spare even if four hundred people—ten times forty—were seated there, the nineteen family heads were already sitting.
There was only one empty seat—Yukline’s.
Sylvia stood beside Gilteon, who smiled as he looked at her. The assistants who had been bothering her also stood at the seats of their respective families.
Doom— Doom— Doom— Doom— Doom—
Those five vibrations announced the time.
9:50 p.m.
Three minutes remained.
Sylvia felt a certain bitterness.
As expected, it won’t work.
He won’t be able to come.
—…Before the meeting begins.
Suddenly, an enormous voice shook the conference chamber. At that condensed mana and grand resonance, Sylvia’s heart dropped.
—I express my sincere gratitude to all of you who answered the summons.
Djekdan of the seat of honor.
The most likely candidate to become an archmage, yet a legend who had left the mundane world of his own accord.
He was seated upon the throne of the Grand Elder. That throne, existing independently in a place apart from the round table, was strangely veiled and dark.
Djekdan could not see the round table of the families, and the family heads could not see Djekdan.
Sylvia felt tremendous pressure as she looked at him.
Was a great mage something one could only challenge after reaching such a realm?
······It was doable.
─I will begin the roll call.
Dzekdan’s voice resonated through the chamber. Like the sound of a solemn drum, it spread, striking the entire body with a tingling force.
─Gilleon of Iliade.
“Gilleon, called by Bercht, head of Iliade, answers with honor.”
Gilleon spoke with ease. Sylvia was proud of her father’s spirit.
─Betan of Beorad.
“Betan, the sixth head of Beorad, bows his head to the Grand Elder.”
Dzekdan called several families, and the magical houses of Judra, Rewind, Billion, and others each answered his summons with mottos that reflected their family’s character.
······But at some point.
─Deculein of Yukline.
When Dzekdan called his name.
A singular silence descended upon the Elder Hall.
─Has Deculein not arrived yet?
Dzekdan spoke from within the darkness.
Everyone swallowed without answering. An inexplicable tension was welling up from the depths of their consciousness.
Yukline’s elimination.
It was certainly unexpected, but rather, it was something worth anticipating.
Considering all the arrogant acts Deculein had shown toward other families, the days he had insolently held himself high while relying on the prestige of his magical house.
Deculein’s downfall was what nearly everyone gathered here desired.
─It seems Deculein, head of Yukline, has not yet arrived. If he does not arrive by the time he is called three times, he shall be deemed to have refused the summons.
Dzekdan’s solemn dignity seemed to press down upon the round table.
Ihelm, head of Rewind, smiled in secret. Once a friend of Deculein, he had now become an enemy called “rotten cheese” by him.
─Yukline shall be removed from the traditional twelve magical houses.
That magical voice rang out loftily and made the round table tremble.
Sylvia looked at the enormous clock set into the ceiling of the Elder Hall.
Fifty-three minutes had already passed.
─Deculein, head of Yukline.
If Deculein failed to attend before these three calls ended.
Yukline, which had never once been omitted from the traditional twelve families since Bercht’s founding.
Would be eliminated for the first time in over two hundred years.
What a disgrace it would be for such a prestigious magical house.
─Deculein, head of Yukline.
Sylvia looked around. Some were holding back laughter, some were openly laughing, and her father was expressionless.
There was no one worried for him.
In Sylvia’s opinion, Deculein seemed to have lived his life terribly wrong all this time.
That made him pitiable.
─Deculein, head of Yukline······.
At the very moment the final, third call was about to be completed.
Creeeeeeeak······.
The sound of stone scraping rang out with particular harshness. Startled, Sylvia looked there.
The great doors of the conference room had opened askew, and a snowstorm surged in through the gap.
─······.
Dzekdan’s mouth stopped.
Everyone’s gaze turned there.
The man who entered belatedly was covered in snow from head to toe.
His suit was scratched here and there, and his hair was disheveled without care.
Like a monster that had returned alive from hell. A wildness utterly different from his always immaculate appearance.
Without realizing it, Sylvia clenched her fist.
An entrance that was by no means splendid, yet extremely impressive. As they looked at him, no one said a word.
─Deculein, is that you?
Dzekdan asked. Deculein remained silent and swept his gaze around. His blue eyes stared at the round table.
Those who had been laughing stopped, and those who had wished for his elimination avoided his gaze.
─Deculein. An answer is required.
Dzekdan spoke again.
Only then did Deculein straighten his clothes. He adjusted his torn suit and neatly swept back his hair dampened by the snowstorm.
With that alone, he once again became the original Deculein.
“······Yes.”
Deculein spoke.
“I, Deculein.”
As he said his own name, he strode into the conference room.
A gait that was especially insolent and rakish today.
“······von Grahan Yukline.”
The eyes around the round table followed him.
Only Gilleon, with his head lowered, laughed quietly.
“The head of Yukline has come here.”
He did not bow his head, nor did he answer the summons; he declared only that he had come here.
An exceedingly arrogant motto.
Some heads twisted their lips in displeasure or clicked their tongues. Some immature assistants merely stared with their mouths open, as if bewitched by his appearance and ego.
“I apologize for failing to arrive earlier. However, an incident occurred, and I was late because I had to deal with it.”
─You are not late. Take your seat.
He walked over and sat in Yukline’s seat.
Sylvia felt a strange sensation.
It was clearly a round table without a seat of honor.
Yet from the moment he appeared, all the weight seemed to tilt toward him.
─However, since your assistant has not yet arrived, Deculein, your right to speak shall be limited to three times until the mid-session recess.
He looked at those who could not meet his eyes. As if searching for the cause that had brought about the present situation, his anger was vivid.
“······I acknowledge it.”
Deculein said so and inclined his head at an angle.
He did not even have enough strength to say anything more. His mana had already been depleted, and this mad dash had consumed his stamina as well.
He had already surpassed even the limits of 「Iron Man」.
The only reason he could maintain his mind now was that unique 「Personality」 of his.
─Deculein, calm yourself.
Everyone in the conference room mistook his heavily sunken atmosphere for fury. Even Ihelm, who had always sneered whenever they met, quietly straightened his posture.
No matter what, Yukline was the greatest magical house on the continent. Jeers in high society were one thing, but there was no need to invite needless suspicion in an incident like this.
─As all of the traditional twelve families and the rising eight families have arrived, I shall begin Bercht’s convocation meeting.
The meeting began amid that silence.