Chapter 23

A few days later.

Leaving Sepia’s affairs behind, Dale faced the ‘Tower Trial’ in the 11th Tier. Nothing had changed.

Sepia remained Dale’s trusted mentor, and to her, Dale was surely a beloved disciple.

That day’s events were nothing more than a meaningless incident, and Sepia probably didn’t even perceive it as an ‘incident’. She’d likely dismiss it as nothing more than the childish whims of a ten-year-old.

At times like this, I find myself in quite a complex state of mind—wondering whether I should be glad to have the body of a child or not.

‘Nothing will change.’

He mutters to himself, almost as if urging himself on. The trial of the Black Magic Tower was no different. It was simply about proving his existence as the most legitimate successor to the Black Magic Tower Lord.

Every move of the lower-tier trials was broadcast through magic projectors, and it went without saying where everyone’s attention was focused.

The prodigy of the Duke’s house and the son of the Black Duke. That was him.

A chill cold and the magic of refined darkness ripple across his palm, freezing Dale’s mind cold.

The 11th Tier.

A place where all manner of artifacts, grimoires, and usable items are permitted, along with the full power of a mage.

Where the Life Point Necklace cannot guarantee the examinee’s life and safety 100%.

Thanks to that, Dale’s heart felt remarkably light as he faced the trial itself.

No need to hide himself, no need to ‘consider’ his opponents. A liberating sensation, as if heavy shackles had finally been cast off.

In the stillness of the room, not even a breeze stirred, yet Dale’s cloak began to flutter wildly in all directions.

Dale’s cherished artifact of darkness, the Shadow Cloak.

‘Now that I’ve reached the realm of the Third Circle, how far can I push the Shadow Cloak’s potential?’

Following the shadows cast by the cloak’s hem, the darkness at his feet began to rage wildly.

‘The mages of the Magic Tower are different from the knights of our duke’s house.’

And just before Dale faced the tower’s trial, he recalled the advice given by Duke Saxon.

‘For them, the Magic Tower itself is not an object of loyalty, but merely a ladder to their own goals.’

As both a father and the Tower Lord reigning at the pinnacle of the Magic Tower.

‘Then what do you think is necessary to earn the Tower’s loyalty?’

‘What is it?’

‘Fear.’

Fear.

That is why he performed so brilliantly in the ‘Life Point Battle’ of the First Tier.

Fear born from an overwhelming power gap that dare not be defied.

You cannot rule without dominating.

To Dale, the Duke of Saxony was at times strict, yet an exceedingly kind and thoughtful father. But to those of the Black Tower, and to those beyond the northern borders, the ominous reputation carried by the name ‘Black Duke’ was beyond question.

Nor were the words of those who opposed House Saxony any different.

Thus, recalling his father’s counsel, Dale raised his head.

──The Tower’s Trial, Tier 11. The trial format: ‘A Tournament of Magic Duels for Advancement’.

Like the first trial of the 1st Tier, the ‘Life Point Battle,’ it was a trial designed to weed out the weak.

But the opponent is no longer an academy graduate-level novice either. A battlefield where test takers from previous cohorts join forces to face the Black Magic Tower’s official mages.

‘Still, they’re not opponents worth getting worked up over.’

In terms of being an opponent to be subdued through overwhelming power, it’s no different. And on that point, the opponent before Dale surely harbors the same thought.

Albert Rosenheim, the Black Tower’s Chief Third Circle Master. He too burns with the fervor to prove himself by defeating the ‘Son of the Black Duke’.

Suddenly, the whistle signaling the start of the magic duel sounded—no, a fraction of a second faster than the whistle itself.

“Dark Arrow.”

Whoosh!

The opposing dark mage, Elbert, unleashed an arrow of darkness with a rapid incantation.

He had launched an offensive spell before the duel had even begun.

A clear violation of the rules.

‘Oh ho, look at this?’

Even Dale was startled by that strike, hastily accelerating the circle of his heart.

Even if it was just a fraction of a second, it was enough time for a skilled mage to utter several syllables.

A jet-black blade sprang from the shadow cloak, deflecting the dark arrow.

No sooner had he blocked one arrow than dozens of Dark Arrows were already drawn from behind Elbert, their magical bowstrings taut.

“…Huh.”

The dark arrows multiplied endlessly, swirling like a storm. Their numbers far exceeded what a mere third-circle mage could handle.

And discerning their origin wasn’t particularly difficult.

‘He’s using an amplification-type artifact.’

A mage powerful enough to surpass the tenth tier wouldn’t be out of place possessing a few artifacts.

Though it could not compare to the Saxon ducal house.

“Haha, what do you think, Prince Dale!”

Setting the tempo of battle through defensive maneuvers, then unleashing an endless offensive fueled by the artifact’s power.

Thwack!

Dodging the hail of arrows raining down like bombs, Dale thrust off the ground and charged forward.

‘So that’s how you’re going to play it.’

A bold display of foul play from the very start. Yet, there was no signal or sign to stop the duel.

The spectators failed to grasp the gravity of this subtle difference, while those who could comprehend it maintained silence, testing Dale.

How cunning of them—they know that fact and are trying to exploit it.

‘This is why I dislike mages.’

The knight, who values loyalty to his lord’s house as a virtue, and the mage, who pursues his own world—their very natures are different.

Pure, unadulterated meritocracy. A fight where it’s eat or be eaten.

The fact that he is the son of the Black Duke is merely a tool for them to seize an opportunity to prove themselves.

“Now! Rise and swear eternal allegiance before me!”

Taking advantage of the moment when Dale focused on defense, Elbert began raising the scattered corpses.

“O seeds of darkness deeper than pitch-black night, starved for blood!”

A spell brimming with the exaggerated rhetoric characteristic of self-absorbed magicians.

‘I’m embarrassed for them.’

Yet, aside from the listener feeling embarrassed and its efficiency being dreadful, its effect is amplified in direct proportion to its length and adjectives.

Simultaneously resurrecting the dead and unleashing an endless barrage of black magic arrows through the artifact’s power.

Ultimately, drawing out the artifact’s power is also a matter of the caster’s skill. The title of Senior Third Circle Master was certainly no empty name.

‘Better than those greenhorns.’

Dale remains focused on defense, maintaining his silence. It’s not that he’s particularly on the defensive. Even though his opponent took the initiative unfairly, it’s within the realm of expectation for Dale, who’s seen it all.

If he were so inclined, a single Ice Bullet would be enough to take down his opponent.

He simply wants to give them a chance.

To wait until they reveal every ounce of power they possess.

For destroying the opponent’s proof would be the most definitive proof of all.

Soon, the undead soldiers, reinforced by grand incantations, surrounded Dale.

“Attack, servants of darkness!”

Confident of victory, the Chief Third Circle Master, Elbert, raised his voice once more.

“…You’ve shown us all you’ve got, right?”

Dale retorted, watching the scene unfold. Just as the undead surged forward, kicking off the ground to charge at Dale all at once.

From beneath Dale’s feet, pitch-black blades erupted toward the skulls of the dead charging from all directions.

Crack!

They tore precisely into the gaps between the skulls, aiming to immobilize the undead’s movements.

Sssshhh.

Albert Rosenheim wore a faint, knowing smile, as if he had expected this.

“Corpse Explosion.”

Corpse explosion. With a muttering sound, the fixed corpses of the dead burst open simultaneously right before Dale’s eyes.

“This is the end, Master!”

Flesh, blood, and bones of the dead scattered like shrapnel from exploding grenades. Tiny bone fragments, too fine for the Shadow Cloak to block, pierced sharply through the air.

But it was too late to raise a wall of ice.

A life-or-death situation.

Yet Dale, too, wore a villainous smile, as if he had expected this.

“……!”

The black, faint shadow beneath his feet blurred around Dale’s body. Dale’s flesh and bone lost substance, collapsing to the ground where he stood.

As if melting into the darkness, into the swirling mass of shadows beneath your feet.

A new application for the artifact Shadow Cloak.

‘Spectralization’.

The swarm of shadows on the ground began surging toward the Senior Third Circle Master before him at terrifying speed.

──As Lord Helmut had said, distance is life in a battle against a mage.

Never mind the fact that Dale himself was a mage.

“Hee, heeek!”

Wrapping around Elbert’s feet, the mass of darkness began to take form, solidifying into a ‘flesh-and-bone shape’.

“A speed incantation before the duel even begins?”

Right behind him.

“──Isn’t it a bit cowardly to pick on a mere child?”

The distance between them closed completely. The swarm of shadows cast by the cloak’s folds began to glow.

Like a school of piranhas smelling blood in the water.

“Hungry, hungry, HUNGRY!”

“Can I eat? Can I eat?”

“Let us eat already!”

At the cries of the starving shadows, Dale smiled softly. After smiling, he murmured coldly.

“──Don’t eat too much.”

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. An artifact for an artifact.

With those words, a horde of starving shadows began crawling up Albert’s ankles. Like being wrapped by hundreds of dark serpents.

“Aaah, aaaah, aaaah!”

Even as he thrashed and screamed like a madman, it was already too late.

The swarm of living shadows opened their jaws.

Clang!

The moment the ‘effective strike’ landed, the ‘Life Point Necklace’ around Elbert’s neck shattered as its shield magic activated.

But against the endlessly starving horde of shadows, a mere shield magic could do very little.

The Life Point Necklace cannot guarantee the wearer’s life and safety 100%.

“Ah, I’m still not used to controlling these things either.”

Dale laughed as if it were someone else’s problem. It was an extremely cold laugh.

“Aaahhh, Aaaahhh!”

A scream that seemed to tear at the ears echoed out.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Hungry shadows bit into ankles, tore into chests and shoulders, ripped flesh, devoured it, and gulped down blood. Barely missing vital organs and major organs.

A feast unfolded—not deadly, yet agonizing enough to make one wish for death.

It had to be shown.

The overwhelming difference in power that dare not be defied, and the terror born of that difference.

Only after Elbert’s body was torn to shreds, barely clinging to life, did Dale finally mutter.

“Retreat.”

The swirling mass of shadows instantly gathered at Dale’s feet.

A deathly silence fell over the horrific scene.

Needless to say, the audience was speechless; even the black mages of the Black Magic Tower were rendered silent, unable to utter a word.

Yet this was precisely the Saxon family’s way—and furthermore, the Black Duke’s way.

For that reason, no one dared doubt that Dale was the most legitimate successor to the Black Count.

──The Tower Trial, 11th Tier.

The Winner’s Advancement Round via Magic Duel, Second Round.

“Defeat! I concede defeat!”

Round 3.

“I surrender! I surrender!”

Finally, to the final battle.

“I want to live……”

Except for one single match, all of Dale’s victories were walkovers.

It was a truly anticlimactic ending, but considering the fate of Elbert, who dared to prove himself against Dale.

it was surely the best decision they could make.