Chapter 167
By the time Dale reached the 60th floor of the tower, it was not a grand army of the dead that blocked his path.
A hooded man stood there alone. He wasn’t even a mage, who should have been present on this floor.
“……Master Nosa.”
“Welcome, Prince Dale. We’ve been waiting for you.”
The dark mage called Master Nosa smiled cheerfully.
“It seems the old Mother of Darkness takes quite a liking to you, young master.”
“Is there another reason you’ve come all this way?”
“Why, to converse with the young and brilliant young master, of course.”
There was no one who did not know of this old monster… no, this old fiend residing in the Black Magic Tower.
Nosa removed his hood. Beneath it lay nothing but skin—a mummy on the verge of shriveling away. A shell so thin the silhouette of his emaciated skull was clearly visible.
While Eris was unaware that he was an ancient being tracing back to the founding father of Saxony, this man was a different matter. He was an ancient mage who had maintained an immortal life alongside the successive generations of Saxony’s former lords, the Black Mages, ever since they began ruling the tower.
A lich.
“In my youth, I despised the arrogance and foolishness of youth.”
“Does my meaning not suit your taste?”
Dale retorted.
“Oh, come on, that’s not possible.”
The old man laughed as if the suggestion were absurd. It was a hollow laugh, utterly devoid of spirit, as if his soul were slipping away.
“In an age where rivers run dry and mountains are carved away, it is only the bloodlust of turmoil that drives the wheel of history.”
