Chapter 20

“Please grant me permission to undergo the ‘Tower Trial’ in Necropolis.”

The Necropolis Tower. What that tower signified was a fact that needed no explanation.

It was the Black Magic Tower.

And the ‘Tower Trial’ Dale spoke of was a testing ground to prove how far one could ascend as a mage by confronting the Floor Guardians of the Magic Tower…

Furthermore, it was a kind of ranking game that determined one’s standing among the mages of the tower.

Novices taking the exam for the first time fall short before even clearing a few floors, while those who defeat guardians of the upper tiers or those who reincarnate finally gain the qualifications to become ‘Elders of the Tower’.

──Finally, only one person, the one standing at the pinnacle of the tower, is granted the title of ‘Lord of the Magic Tower’.

The man before Dale’s eyes… Lord Black, as he is known.

Moreover, among the Five-Colored Magic Towers, the trials of the Black Magic Tower, which touched upon ‘Death’, were famously the most treacherous alongside the Red Tower.

“You speak of the Tower’s trials?”

At those words, Dale silently nodded.

“It is a place of extreme danger where one could easily lose their life.”

Speaking as the ruler at the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower before being Dale’s father, the Black Mage continued.

“It’s too soon for you, who hasn’t even fully mastered the third circle yet.”

At ten years old, Dale had mastered both Water and Darkness, reaching the rank of 2nd Circle Master.

And the qualification for mages to challenge the Tower’s trial is reaching at least the third circle. In other words, to take the Tower’s trial, one must either formally graduate from the Academy or possess equivalent capability.

“We should reach it soon.”

Dale answered confidently at those words.

The average age for an ordinary talent to enter the Magic Tower Academy and reach the third circle, equivalent to graduation, was mid-twenties. Yet Dale, who had reached the second circle at nine years old, was already confident about the ‘next realm’ despite only a year having passed since then.

Circle 3. The realm where one could graduate from the academy and proudly call themselves a full-fledged mage.

“As I said, this decision is for my father and the Saxon family.”

“In what way do you think that?”

“After I reach the third circle, and then prove myself through the ‘Tower’s Trial’.”

Dale continued flatly.

“Through me, the heir, Father’s standing as the Tower Master will become even more solidified.”

The position as Tower Master.

Becoming the Tower Master is never a matter of bloodline succession, and thus the ‘succession of the heir’ is by no means a trivial matter.

Therefore, Dale’s desire to be in the spotlight as the Duke’s prodigy was by no means a mere expression of petty self-aggrandizement.

“I too shall secure a reputation in a trustworthy form, not mere empty boasts from idle gossipers.”

To formally debut in the world of magic and prove the name ‘Prodigy of the Duke’s House’.

“My proof will be my father’s proof.”

He nodded and continued.

“And my father’s proof will become the proof of our Saxon House.”

The Saxon family’s proof.

“Is that why you volunteered for the Tower’s trial?”

At his father’s question, Dale silently nodded.

“Yes.”

At those words, the Duke of Saxony let out a low chuckle.

Recent events had made it abundantly clear to Dale.

The power wielded by the Saxon House, the empire’s foremost grand duchy, far exceeded anything Dale had ever imagined.

Therefore, quietly lying low beneath the surface could never be a wise decision. Regardless of Dale’s silence, the Empire’s ambitions toward the ducal house would never cease.

Rather, before the empire made its move, he needed to prove himself by fully leveraging the power of House Saxon.

Even the imperial court could not threaten him lightly—he had secured immense prestige.

This was only the beginning.

That night.

Dale sat cross-legged in his bedroom, assessing his condition.

Two circles, a 2-circle master. Creating and building up yet another mana ring here.

Simply put, expanding a circle is ultimately an act of surpassing one’s own limits.

‘But from the third circle onward, it’s a bit different.’

Unlike anything before, overcoming the barrier beyond the third circle is not a matter of talent or technique.

It is enlightenment.

Only by deeply contemplating and comprehending the principles of magic can one reach this realm.

This is precisely why reaching the third circle is the standard qualification for graduating from the academy and what distinguishes a person as a proper magician.

‘But that doesn’t mean I have the luxury of sitting around meditating.’

The path of the world is not limited to the one righteous way.

Dale chose the heretical path—hundreds of times more dangerous, yet one that guaranteed a more certain outcome.

The path his past self had taken.

Assuming that reaching the third circle through enlightenment is an act of leaping over a wall, the method Dale chose was akin to smashing himself against the wall with all his might to shatter it.

An act of transcending his limits as a mage by risking his life through a mana surge.

Whoosh!

A whirlwind of magical power swept through the room, scattering into shards of frost.

The turbulent surge of mana began a precarious tug-of-war between control and unrestrained power.

‘Let’s try again.’

In his fading consciousness, Dale steeled his resolve once more.

He unleashed the mana accumulated to the point of bursting like dynamite, exploding it outward.

However, two circles interlocked like clockwork gears unleash the power of a square, halting the mana surge.

“…Not all second circles are created equal.”

The perfection of the circle, built upon past experience and present learning, far surpassed the realm of a past life.

Even now, at this very moment, the circle’s perfection continues to grow endlessly more intricate. Its sophistication and rotational power, equivalent to dozens of times the capacity a typical second circle could handle.

The ‘limits he must surpass’ were far higher than he had ever imagined.

But stopping was not an option.

‘Once more!’

To force out mana exceeding the capacity of the second circle, after a vicious cycle of forcibly pumping the heart’s mana.

To accommodate the endless supply of mana, the two circles accelerated and spun at extreme speeds.

‘Still insufficient.’

The circles had to be accelerated and spun faster, pushed to the absolute limit. It was like flooring the accelerator to an RPM the engine couldn’t handle.

“……!”

At that very moment.

The runaway mana finally broke free from the circles’ control, engulfing Dale’s entire body.

Crack, snap!

His breath caught.

The surrounding mana screams as it begins absorbing the heat energy around it.

Frost formed in patches along the windowpanes, the interior froze solid, and a bone-chilling cold swept through.

And then──.

Puff!

“……?!”

Suddenly, a searing pain erupted from behind.

The cold touch of metal. The tip of a blade, tearing through his chest and jutting out, gleamed with a cold, blue edge.

‘The blade of the Holy Sword Durandal…?’

Coming to his senses, Dale found himself standing in the middle of a stark white expanse.

Not the cozy chamber of the duke’s castle.

A white, dark winter night. The boundary between reality and illusion blurred.

After realizing that fact, Dale sneered coldly.

As Sepia had said… magic is a mirror of the heart.

And now, Dale was trapped within the mirror reflecting his own heart.

Not waiting for enlightenment to come to him, but stepping into the ‘world of enlightenment’ with his own two feet.

The abyss of thought.

A white and dark winter night.

The bottom of the night was pure white, yet the sky was profoundly black and dark.

Every magician possesses their own world, and a magician’s training is the very process of perfecting that world.

The wizard’s ideal is to overlay that world onto reality.

That the clash of high-ranking wizards is called ‘the collision of worlds’ is no exaggeration whatsoever.

And this was the true world that Dale possessed.

A faint, ash-gray sleet flurries down. Along the endless expanse of the blank horizon.

There was truly nothing here.

Not his father, not his mother, not his sister Rize, not Sepia or Charlotte.

‘From the very beginning, I had nothing.’

Realizing this fact, his heart grew unbelievably still. A bitter cold seeped into his chest.

Clang!

The illusion shatters, and the cold vanishes. I lower my head.

There was no grand revelation.

“……”

Nevertheless, before I knew it, the ‘Three Circles’ were meshing like clockwork gears, operating around my heart.

The price paid was simply facing one’s true world.

When I ascended from the 1st Circle to the 2nd Circle, I realized I had grown tenfold stronger.

And at this very moment, having grasped the realm of the Third Circle.

It goes without saying that this was no ordinary Third Circle.

The projections of weapons he wanted to test immediately, the improvements to spells, and the additional formulas were countless.

Yet, alone within the castle’s interior, Dale dared not even attempt to test his magic.

The next morning, in the Saxon Duke’s office.

“I’ve reached the third circle.”

Dale reported flatly, and his father, the Duke of Saxony, gasped in apparent shock.

“…Is that truly so?”

Dale silently nodded. He test-rotated the three circles fixed around his heart like clockwork gears.

Three circles interlock organically, processing the mana erupting like an explosion into a form of magical power.

Along with the memory of a white and dark winter night.

Black and blue, darkness and cold magic swirl from Dale’s fingertips.

Refined darkness, the dual attributes of biting cold.

Only then did Dale finally realize that choosing the Water and Darkness magical lineages was never a coincidence.

When Sepia first became his master, he could have rejected her teachings. But he did not. At first, he thought it was his own will.

──It was not.

‘Dale’s World’ chose it.

“Hard to believe, even when I see it.”

Duke Saxon, his father, replied with a wry smile.

“…Now all that remains is to prove my abilities in the tower.”

At those words, Duke Saxony quietly smiled. It was an incredibly complex smile.

The Black Count surely knew it too. Dale’s talent had already far surpassed the realm of genius.

Even knowing this, Dale did not hesitate. For even if it were a monster, it would still be his beloved child.

Moreover, above all else, the time for remaining silent and biding one’s time simply because one is a child has passed. Regardless of Dale’s silence, the Empire, the Imperial Court, and this world itself will keep moving endlessly.

Taking the Tower’s trial and proving myself with all my strength.

“Please believe in me, Father.”

Therefore, no matter how his actions might appear, now was the time to simply move forward.

A short time later. The City of Death, Necropolis.

And the pitch-black spire towering at the city’s center. A procession of noble carriages and knights stretched toward that very black magic tower.

The ‘Black Cavalry’, clad in black armor and ash-gray surcoats embroidered with night crows.

Their appearance signified only one thing: the Duke of Saxony’s personal guard, the Knights of the Night Crow.

And the man riding in that carriage was the one who reigned supreme over this city of death, the tower, and indeed the entire northern region.

Alongside his young son, the most brilliant talent in the entire empire.

The Tower Trial is an examination and rite granted equally to all within the Magic Tower, and even the Tower Master is no exception. The endless need to prove one’s existence was not solely Dale’s burden.

Thus, the father and son who made dark magic their profession crossed the Necropolis’s highway.

Each headed toward the trial awaiting them.