Chapter 56

Blood-Stained Walter was ultimately nothing more than a discarded pawn of Viscount Yuris. Walter himself could never have known that, until the very end, he was nothing more than a discarded puppet.

“The Sixth Commander of the Black Blood Corps…”

Dale spoke softly, and Sepia turned toward him in surprise.

“How do you know that name?”

He couldn’t just blurt out that he knew from his past life’s memories.

“Today, the Crimson Ball came to the academy in person.”

“……!”

That was why Dale answered. The truth about the Black Red Cult that the Crimson Ball had revealed. And also the fact that the ‘Emperor’ sought to silence those who knew the truth about the Black Red Cult.

He remained silent about the scenes witnessed in the Crimson Prince’s world, and about the offer of a ‘new Black Red bond’ extended to Dale.

“…It must be an uncomfortable truth for the Empire too.”

Sepia replied flatly.

“Still, to plan a scheme using our hands as a borrowed blade? How truly despicable.”

“With Sepia by my side, I was certain I could defeat Walter of the Crimson Blood.”

As for Walter the Bloodthirsty, he must have been equally certain he could never defeat Sepia. Walter had merely fallen into the Blood-Red Prince’s trap, and in a sense, even Dale and Sepia were no exception to being played by his hand.

“…That man is truly dangerous beyond measure.”

“I agree.”

Dale nodded without denial. After nodding, he looked around.

The Frozen Crystal. The world of Sepia, the Snow Elf Mage.

The world of a magician is like a barrier that permits no intrusion from others. A barrier composed of landscapes of the mind. Therefore, when a magician consciously unfolds their world, it holds only two meanings.

One, when facing an enemy that must be excluded with all one’s might.

Second, when facing someone to whom they can sincerely reveal their world.

Moreover, in the present case, both apply.

“…Thank you for protecting me, Sepia-sensei.”

Her world, where only Dale and Sepia exist. To Dale’s words, Sepia did not reply immediately. She simply responded with her usual tender, gentle smile.

“It’s a truly beautiful world.”

Dale said, gazing at the crystal-clear frozen land stretching beyond the horizon without a speck of dust.

“As your teacher, and as a magician myself, when I first glimpsed your world… Seeing the horizon of loneliness and emptiness you must feel…”

As the gentle, benevolent teacher he always was.

“I thought it resembled my own world very much.”

At Sepia’s words, Dale swallowed softly. She was right. Sepia’s world. A crystal-colored horizon devoid of anything. The world of ideas she had built, wandering the mortal realm in the body of a Snow Elf, having left her homeland as an exile.

Only then could Dale finally understand. That she, too, was like him.

Two souls bearing a bitter loneliness. Before that, neither Dale’s youth nor Sepia’s age—lived as an elf—posed any obstacle.

The world of ideas was ultimately a landscape of the heart, and now the two understood each other’s hearts.

Therefore, Dale reached out his arm and embraced the sixth-circle elf mage without a word. For Dale was not the only one suffering from the bitter loneliness of the Crystal Wastes.

“…I like you, Teacher.”

Dale said.

“So please wait just a little longer.”

Carefully rising onto his tiptoes, he kissed her cheek.

“……!”

“Until I become the man worthy of you.”

After kissing her, he looked up at Sepia’s face.

“Y-yeah…”

Sepia stood there, her elf ears pricked up, her cheeks flushed. As if she had forgotten the fact that the person before her was an 11-year-old child.

After the embrace, Dale pulls away.

“By any chance.”

After pulling away, Dale asked again.

“Was there really no need to wait?”

Sepia’s expression, grasping the meaning, flushed bright red once more. Even the elf’s pointed ears were turning crimson.

“…Shut up.”

At Sepia’s flustered reaction, Dale smiled softly.

“Teacher Sepia.”

After smiling, he murmured as if it were someone else’s business.

“Your defensive range is surprisingly wide, isn’t it?”

Two magicians, one red and one blue, clashed, unfolding a world of thought. And the world of thought deployed by high-ranking magicians of elder-level or above can function as a barrier in itself.

An impromptu arena immune to external interference.

In other words, it is impossible to break it from the outside until the sorcerer chooses to release the world.

To forcefully make it possible requires the intervention of a mage possessing equal or greater skill.

And those capable of such a feat likely number fewer than a hundred across the entire continent.

Therefore, when the two mages of the Sixth Circle, Walter of the Bloodstained and Sepia, clashed, Lord Baskerville could only wait.

Immediately after, Dale and Sepia appeared. Thankfully.

Meanwhile, ‘Walter the Bloodthirsty’ had become prey for the Shadow Lurker, leaving not even a trace of flesh or bone behind.

“Young Master Dale, are you unharmed!”

“I am unharmed, Lord Vale.”

Dale replied, leaving Sepia behind, her face flushed bright red.

“What of our knights’ casualties?”

“They sustained some injuries, but thankfully, there are no casualties.”

“That’s good news.”

Dale nodded flatly.

“I never imagined the Red Magic Tower’s elder would launch an attack…!”

Inviting the ‘Heir to the Black Magic Tower’ to the Imperial Academy, then attacking that heir.

An unimaginable situation had actually unfolded. It was a grave act capable of shaking the remaining Magic Towers and the entire empire to its core. Without Sepia, even someone like Dale would have no chance against an elder-level mage. At least, that was how it appeared to Sir Veil.

In that place where he needn’t worry about others’ gazes, one could scarcely even imagine what Dale looked like when he gave his all.

“…Fortunately, the Saxon knights were unharmed. I will handle today’s matter separately.”

Dale said.

“Until I give further orders, please keep today’s events confidential, including you, my lord.”

“But, but, my lord!”

“Sir Bale. This is an order I give as the eldest son of House Saxon.”

“……Your command.”

Dale cut off Sir Veil’s words before he could add anything further.

‘My hesitation could have dragged the Saxon knights into trouble.’

Dale clicked his tongue and promptly turned his head away.

But even so, not even Dale had anticipated such a brutally ignorant attack. Especially at a moment when Dale was as shaken as he was now.

“……”

He recalled the ‘Earth’s landscape’ once shown by Marquis Yuris. How could that landscape be reflected within the Crimson Knight’s mental world? And after he vanished, what on earth had transpired there?

──For a magician to reveal their world held profound significance.

The world of thought was the very landscape and imagery held within the wizard’s mind; in other words, it was like allowing another to peer into one’s innermost thoughts.

Just as Sepia had once done to Dale.

To either reject or accept the other completely. Only one of the two. There were no exceptions.

‘Surely not knowing my true identity…’

He thought it, then immediately shook his head.

‘No, absolutely not.’

If Dale had truly known his identity, the Crimson Prince’s actions wouldn’t have stopped at this point. Dale clearly remembered how the Crimson Prince had treated his past self.

And back then, he absolutely never showed his past self the ‘world of ideas’. He never even mentioned the story of Earth.

He who never opened his heart to his past self—could he have changed his mind after becoming the eldest son of the Saxon family?

‘No way.’

The Crimson Prince did not know Dale’s true identity. On that point, Dale was certain.

In other words, he truly desires to join hands with the ‘Black Prince’.

By revealing his true feelings and wholeheartedly affirming the existence of Dale, who will one day become the Black Mage Tower Lord, he hopes to forge a ‘new bond between black and red’.

Then what exactly is the purpose the Crimson Ball seeks to achieve through this new Black-Red bond? What exactly is this ‘ultimate power and truth’ he speaks of? What is the Emperor of the Empire plotting in his silence?

My mind was incredibly complicated.

But after thinking that far, he immediately shook his head. None of it was something he needed to think about right now. The only thing he needed to do was get the hell out of this damned Imperial Court and return to the Duchy of Saxony.

His stint as an Academy student, something he never asked for, ended right here.

At that moment, Saxony Duchy Castle.

Just as Dale, the successor of the Black Magic Tower, had visited the Imperial Capital for the exchange of black magic, the successor of the Red Magic Tower… the ‘son’ of the Crimson Duke, Viscount Yuris, was there.

In the Saxon Duke’s office.

Ray Yuris.

Strictly speaking, he is not a son of mixed blood. He is, after all, merely an adopted son taken in by Marquis Yuris for ‘certain reasons’. And the Black Prince was one of the few who knew those very reasons.

The Crimson Prince was the sole legitimate heir who survived the trials, where dozens of children gifted with the magic of darkness were gathered, forced to kill each other until only one remained.

Having survived thus, he succeeded in announcing his existence to the world as the son of the House of Yuris.

Though unlike Dale, he does not perform deeds that echo throughout the empire. He remains hidden in the shadows, merely acting on the will of the Crimson Prince.

Therefore, not a single flicker of emotion touched the Black Duke’s expression as he regarded Ray.

Far beyond the reach of the empire’s influence, on the Eastern Continent beyond the Sea of Death, there exists a poison called Gudu.

It involves filling a jar with venomous insects, forcing them to devour each other, then filtering out the last surviving one to extract the most perfectly purified, ultimate poison.

Ray Yuris was that very embodiment of ultimate solitude. Even if he were a child the same age as Dale, it would make no difference.

“Your Excellency, the Black Duke.”

Ray spoke.

“As you know, Father and His Majesty the Emperor desire something like Your Excellency, the Black Duke.”

What they desired.

“Speak.”

The Black Duke spoke dispassionately. As the continent’s foremost dark mage.

“I possess a list of the hardliners from the Black Magic Tower who are cooperating with our Red Magic Tower.”

“……”

At Ray’s words, a momentary flicker of disturbance crossed the Black Mage’s expression.

“What do you want in return?”

Dragging out the conversation unnecessarily was not the Black Knight’s style.

“The Demon’s Corps, the Black Red Penitentiary.”

Ray answered.

“His Imperial Majesty desires that all records of the Black Flame Corps’ actions during the war be completely erased.”

“……”

“And quite coincidentally, several commanders of the Black Crimson Disciplinary Corps happen to be among the hardliners of the Black Magic Tower.”

“Hand over the list of hardliners cooperating with the Crimson Magic Tower.”

“I’m glad word got through quickly.”

Ray Yuris smiled and bowed his head at the Black Duke’s words.

The hardliners who joined hands with the Red Mage Tower and resist the Black Mage regime. They’re the ones who must die anyway.

Even if some among them are ‘those silenced to hide the Black-Red Cult’s shame,’ it makes no difference.