Genius Warlock

Kevin, his hand clasping the chains with black magic, unbound their mystical restraints. With a flourish of sorcery, he triumphantly vanquished his adversary, a contemptuous snort escaping him.

His actions were a deliberate display of strength and composure, seamlessly aligning with the ethos of the Magic Tower—a place where projecting an aura of expertise beyond reality was paramount.

Yet, beneath his composed exterior, an undercurrent of astonishment surged through Kevin. The fortuitous acquisition of proficiency in black magic at precisely this juncture, coupled with his rapid accomplishments, left him taken aback.

In that fleeting moment, it was as though the very hands of a god had intervened. A God…

"Ha, black magic?"

"What in the world…?"

Within the encompassing shroud of dense mist and ensnared by mystical chains, the assembly of wizards gaped at Kevin's emergence once again, their astonishment rekindled.

Kevin comprehended their reaction all too well.

In a community of wizards inclined to overlook many illicit endeavors for the sake of enlightenment, delving into the realm of black magic was sacrilege.

Yet, Kevin opted to concentrate on the immediate crisis.

His initial act was to preemptively assail the other wizards within the demonstration hall, including the professor.

These magic practitioners had been primed to assail as per their instructor's command.

Initiating his strategy, Kevin funneled magic down through his foot, interweaving earth and fire magic, resulting in stone spears erupting from the ground below his adversaries' feet.

KwaGwaGwaGwaGwaGwak!!

Repeatedly, spears forged from soil and rock surged upwards, impaling many foes, yet these were no ordinary wizards. A fair number agilely sidestepped or soared above Kevin's offensive with an almost animalistic dexterity, fueled by their own sorcery.

Evidently, they were not run-of-the-mill individuals.

‘Not that it truly matters now.'

[Firecracker]

Kevin intoned, activating the fusion of earth and fire magic.

Explosions rocked the stone spears, attacking nearby adversaries with flames, searing heat, and shards of debris.

The once-stabbing spears had transmuted the area into a sea of fire, dealing substantial damage to opponents whose vigilance had slackened after evading the initial assault.

A mere handful of survivors emerged, but overwhelmed by the ferocity, they beat a hasty retreat, their resolve shattered.

Confirming this development, Kevin again seized the emotions in his grasp and forcibly sundered the magical bonds constricting Derick.

"Professor…?"

Liberated from the magical shackles, Derick inquired with an expression marked by a rare surprise.

Kevin opted for audacity. Bold-faced lies found their footing when delivered unflinchingly.

"I acquired the skill during my tenure as a war wizard, solely for operational and research purposes. No need for astonishment."

"But, yet…"

"Do you think this is the time to discuss this?"

Kevin addressed Derick in the same manner he once did soldiers on battlefronts.

Curiously, this proved an apt response.

The circumstances paralleled a state of war.

Within a domain where Landa's Magic Tower, Gallos' Rockuri University, and wizards' families from across the continent converged, the fact that the host, Rockuri University itself, had initiated aggression amounted to nothing short of warfare.

Fortuitously, Derick perceived the gravity of the present situation.

Kevin's engagement with black magic might have been a minor personal matter, but the ongoing turmoil transcended normalcy, edging into an unsettling madness.

‘And such madness can't be committed by a madman alone… Surely, it's related to the higher-ups.'

Kevin gazed into the encompassing fog, his certainty unwavering, as it held the entire vicinity in its enigmatic grip. Despite his inability to gauge its precise potency and influence, the magnitude alone conveyed that this was no ordinary obstruction. A barrier of such scale couldn't have been conjured by anyone less than One Master, or perhaps even a Grand Master.

Swift action became imperative in Kevin's mind. Following Derick's lead, he deftly sundered Felix's magical restraints. Without delay, he turned and beckoned Oliver to his side.

"Zenon, you shou-"

"-I'm alright," Oliver interjected, his gaze fixed on Kevin. He had, in fact, already escaped the magical shackles unaided.

This was a stark contrast to the majority of nearby wizards, still ensnared and voicing their frustrations.

Felix, his face drained of color, couldn't contain his astonishment. "How did you manage to do it?"

"By manipulating the mana flow and aligning the spell with the disruptive mana interference," Oliver responded casually, articulating a technique that seemed self-evident yet shouldn't be taken for granted.

Initially, Kevin's method of using black magic to break the chains had been intricate. Indeed, among the formidable wizards present, only a handful had managed to liberate themselves from the magical confines independently, albeit belatedly, underscoring the complexity.

A mere staff member—neither a student of the tower nor an official wizard—displayed such finesse in mana control.

Even Derick and Felix, who were well aware that Oliver was far from ordinary, found themselves newly amazed. Yet, this awe soon became secondary.

The surrounding mist quivered and transformed into a white void, swallowing the surroundings whole.

***

"Doesn't it strike you as unjust?"

Within the hotel's uppermost floor, now repurposed as a conference chamber, Theodore Brant, the head of the School of Life Magic, aired his thoughts openly. Despite his appearance belying only half his actual age, he peered through the veiled window. Seated behind him were Philip Roar, Honorary Grand Master of the Pure Magic School, and Tilda Issai, the One master of the Skadi Subschool.

They had come here alone, without agents, as requested, and Theodore felt a little gratitude for that.

It was a sign of trust in him, a rare virtue in these times.

"Hmm… Mr. Theodore, may I ask you two questions?"

The head of the Roar lineage, Philip, addressed Theodore with the respect befitting his age and station. Alike in courtesy, Theodore responded.

"Please, proceed. You possess the privilege of inquiry."

"What precisely do you signify by ‘unjust'?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

"Indeed. The present, unjust societal framework and all inequitable tenets. Tell me this: Who commands the most profound knowledge among humanity? Who wields the supreme power?"

"…We wizards."

"Correct… Then, who ushered in humanity's golden era?"

"…Again, wizards."

"Yes. It is us, the wizards. The prevailing currency of influence in our world is magic, and we hold dominion over it. Yet observe where we stand today. Does it appear logical to you?"

Theodore's words resonated with authentic resentment and indignation.

"Despite this era marking the zenith of wizardry's prosperity, I have never comprehended why mere capitalists, who possess naught but wealth, and conniving politicians can rival us—those who command magic. Even the royalty, who have no achievements other than being born, are elevated above us. Is this truly just?"

Philip and Tilda, both pillars of the magical order, remained silent.

Theodore's audacious declarations failed to startle them. Having perused Theodore's treatises in their youth and engaged with him personally, they understood his disposition and harbored ideas.

Thus, his statements didn't catch them off guard.

However, Philip and Tilda, being wizards themselves, found a certain resonance with Theodore's ideas, though they held differing perspectives to some extent. Nevertheless…

"No response. Do you believe I'm mistaken?"

"Not in the least… While we may diverge in particulars, I concur wholeheartedly in the assertion of wizard superiority. Our capabilities transcend those of ordinary humans. We are exceptional."

"Your words gratify me, General Philip."

"But what do you imply by ‘unjust'?"

Even as he cast his gaze upon the ominous fog beyond the window, Philip maintained his composure and posed the query.

To comprehend this elder statesman of the contemporary magical society—a candidate for the esteemed Archiver position in times past—one had to acknowledge his remarkable wizardly prowess.

"The predetermined lifespan imposed upon humankind by God."

"……"

"Does this not vex you? Each of us stands as beings unashamed, wielding knowledge, power, and accomplishments—a lifetime of dedication. Yet behold. I, and indeed each one of you, grapple with the inexorable curse of aging, drawing nearer to death. Is this not unjust?!"

Theodore's anger and apprehension were palpable. Understandably so.

Even if his knowledge extended through generations, even if he had amassed a treasury of wisdom to momentarily rewind youth, and even if he had fortified himself to quell natural catastrophes, the absolute and inescapable specter of death, etched in the heavens, bore down upon him.

"How futile and inequitable this is… Yet what incites greater ire and terror in me is another matter altogether."

Gradually, Theodore's voice swelled with emotion.

"The prospect that I might perish without attaining the pinnacle I aspired to… Is that not a grievous tragedy? To expire without scaling the heights one tirelessly pursued and single-mindedly focused upon. What manner of divine justice is this? What manner of God? Disregarding our exertions and impeding our accomplishments!"

Closer to a bellow than a plea, it proved surprisingly the most compelling utterance he had made thus far.

Philip and Tilda, too, were among those who had yet to attain the peaks they sought, much like many wizards.

They were intimately familiar with that indescribable fear.

"However, if one could break free from the celestial predestination, a path unfurls. Liberation from finite existence, the embrace of eternal life, liberation from the curse of aging, and the acquisition of time to reach one's zenith. An eternity of time."

"Hmm… An intriguing narrative on the whole."

Tilda, master of the Skadi school, broke the silence and responded.

As ever, she radiated an icy ambiance that concealed her thoughts, rendering them inscrutable.

“A society that is unfair and not proportional to ability, a principle that does not reward effort. I roughly understood what the Grand Master wants to say.”

"I anticipated your comprehension."

"And if my assumption is accurate, it seems you aim to rectify this issue."

"Indeed. And I implore your assistance in doing so."

A declaration as audacious as it was confrontational, proposing the overthrow of the existing social structure and even a challenge to divine ordinances.

Yet neither Philip nor Tilda exhibited fluster, underscoring their seasoned wizardry.

"How do you intend to proceed? Sharing this with us implies you possess both a plan and a method."

Theodore pivoted to face Philip and Tilda.

"I shall establish a new Tower in Lake Village, not as a loose coalition, but as a harmonious institution, resurrecting an authentic Tower comprised solely of genuine wizards."

"Will you then engage in conflict with the nation?"

"Unnecessary. Merely prepare for the forthcoming new era."

A new era. The term was abrupt, even preposterous, yet Philip and Tilda didn't dismiss it.

They understood that Theodore was radical but not given to nonsensical speech.

"A new era, you say?"

"The world is on the brink of transformation."

The inquiry didn't dissipate their skepticism; it merely added to it.

But that was not the conclusion.

"And amid that turmoil, only the chosen shall endure. Extend your hand to me, and I shall grant you youth and immortality."

The assertion seemed surreal, yet Philip and Tilda didn't outright reject it.

He might be haughty, but his pride was so immense that falsehood seemed inconceivable.

"It's just the two of us here… Have you managed to convince the other Tower associates? I'm referring to the masters of the Agni and Enlil schools."

"My grandson is working on persuading them. They're skilled wizards, but not quite at your level."

"Hmm… Do you believe your grandson can sway them?"

"My grandson. And even if he can't, it doesn't matter. If they resist, there are methods to bring them into alignment."

"It seems like our situations are parallel."

"Not merely similar, but the same. However, don't misunderstand. It's the path I'd rather avoid. I hold you in high regard. So make the right decision."

Theodore's words flowed with confidence, an almost haughty air, while Philip stroked his forked beard.

"……May I pose another question?"

"Is this the second inquiry?"

“No, a newly arisen doubt.”

"What is it?"

"You mentioned granting youth and immortality, but does the Life School faction possess the technology to achieve that at present?"

"To be truthful, it's still in its experimental stages. I've gathered, developed, and augmented various technologies, but a critical element remains elusive. Nevertheless, it's a puzzle that's on the brink of resolution."

"On what grounds do you assert this?"

"I've secured the finest ingredients."

Theodore responded, exuding certainty, as if everything unfolding before him revolved around this fact.

"I don't comprehend… these ‘finest ingredients.'"

"You don't need to delve that deeply. That's my concern to handle. Yours is whether to embrace my proposition."

In the end, Theodore pressed for an answer, almost as though his earlier remark about employing different means if they declined was no idle threat.

Philip chuckled, relinquishing the shrinking spell he'd cast on the spear he held, then casting an enhanced growth incantation.

"Lengthen."

As Philip uttered the command, the spear elongated with swiftness akin to a bullet, extending outward.

Whizz—————Bang!!

However, Theodore nimbly arrested the spear with his conjured magical hand.

"……Regrettable. Truly. I anticipated a deeper understanding from you."

"Extend."

Upon Philip's utterance, the spear, now stretched, expanded manifold times, rending Theodore's magical grasp apart.

"……Huh."