The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

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Chapter 94: The Graveyard of the Dead (6)

A corridor in the dungeon, not particularly wide.

In the confined space that limited movement, a lich looked up at the mechanical golem standing before it.

-This is…?

The red glow of the lich’s eyes held a trace of curiosity.

-A long-forgotten junior. The soul used in this doll… could it be what I think it is?

“...Endeavor, drive it to the wall.”

Ignoring the lich’s question, Kiri gave a quiet command.

Boom!

The jet-black mechanical golem, Endeavor, slammed the lich's skull into the wall.

“Grind it down like that.”

Hearing its master’s cold voice, Endeavor began to push forward relentlessly.

Clang! Crack!

Sparks flew as bone and wall scraped against each other, filling the corridor with the sound of grinding bone.

“…Impressive,”

Oscar murmured, staring blankly at the scene.

To overwhelm a lich so completely?

It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but what astonished her most was something else.

‘That golem doesn’t emit the unique aura of the undead.’

The aura commonly referred to as death energy or ghostly energy-something only the dead, who no longer breathe, could wield.

The problem was that the mechanical golem before her exuded no such aura.

‘But… how is something like that even possible?’

Oscar wore a look of confusion.

She referred to this technique as mechanical necromancy.

Necromancy, by definition, was the study of manipulating souls.

In other words, even the diminutive golem Endeavor must have a soul embedded within it.

‘And yet, with no trace of death’s aura…’

There were only two possibilities.

One was that she was being deceived, and the technology’s true nature was being hidden.

‘The other is…’

As Oscar’s face grew grim, Endeavor returned from the far end of the corridor.

It tossed the tattered remains of the lich onto the ground.

-Hmm, how violent. Is it over now?

Despite losing over 70% of its skull, the lich rose naturally, showing no sign of pain.

The four mages watching weren’t surprised. No one believed a lich could die so easily.

A lich, whose soul was stored separately for immortality, wouldn’t feel pain in the first place.

-It seems I’ve been asleep for quite some time.

Crack. Pop.

The lich casually rotated its neck a few times, and its skull began to regenerate.

-Seeing my juniors in the Black Tower create such an amusing toy…

“Toy?”

Kiri Gloria glared at the lich with a gaze cold enough to freeze it solid.

“Watch your mouth. This isn’t some toy. It’s proof of our efforts and struggles to correct the mistakes your generation left behind.”

-Hmm. Mistakes left by my generation?

Tilting its head as if pondering deeply, the lich’s glowing red eyes stretched into a mocking grin.

-I can’t think of a single one.

“You…! How dare you…”

-If you’re suffering from something my generation did,

The lich pointed a thin, bony finger at Kiri.

-It’s because you’re weak.

“...!”

With those words, malevolent energy pressed down on the four mages like a crushing weight.

“Ugh!”

-No one in this world demands an apology from someone who could crush them like an insect. If you’re being criticized, it’s because your weakness caused it. Blame yourselves.

Yes, that’s the kind of rhetoric the Black Tower mages of his memories would spew without hesitation.

As Oscar unconsciously nodded, the others, who had been secretly preparing their magic, shouted out.

“Borg!”

“It’s ready!”

Two mechanical golems, summoned in front of Gale and Borg, charged at the lich in an instant.

The lich glanced at the charging golems and spoke.

-Weaker than the one from earlier, and the souls inside are far lighter.

Crash!

The two golems grabbed the lich’s arms.

At the same time, Endeavor, who had been waiting for an opening, closed in with a jet-black sword.

-If this is the extent of your little tricks…

Sizzle!

The arms of the golems gripping the lich began to corrode and melt in seconds.

-I think it’s time to end this game.

“Argh!”

“Aghhh!”

Gale and Borg screamed in agony and collapsed, their eyes rolling back.

“Gale! Borg!”

Kiri hurried to check on her fallen comrades, biting her lip tightly.

Her eyes burned with a fiery rage.

“Unforgivable… Endeavor!”

Endeavor swung its blade down to bisect the lich.

However, some unknown force stopped the sword just above the lich’s head, leaving it trembling in place.

-Unforgivable? That’s my line.

The lich placed its foot on the fallen golems and continued.

-This doll… While the concept is intriguing, that’s all there is to it. At its core, it denies the foundation of necromancy and tarnishes its honor—a mere piece of trash.

Sizzle, sizzle!

The parts of the golems touched by the lich’s foot began to melt.

Simultaneously, Gale’s condition worsened rapidly.

“Get your foot off, now!”

Consumed by rage, Kiri completed her black magic.

What she conjured was the Thorn of Hatred spell the lich had used earlier, though at only half the size.

-How cute.

Her spike, flying through the air, was pierced by a larger spike rising from the ground.

"Ugh!"

Magic backfired, and Kiri coughed up blood.

The lich, who had swiftly overpowered the black tower's mages, spoke with genuine curiosity.

-You have talent. So why waste it creating trash like these puppets?

"...Because I... we... don’t want to become monsters like you."

Blood dripped from Kiri’s tightly clenched lips. Nôv(el)B\\jnn

It was out of sheer frustration.

Because she couldn’t protect her comrades, because they were helplessly defeated, and because the method she despised had proven so overwhelmingly powerful.

It made her furious and heartbroken.

"...The Black Tower and black magic aren't wrong."

She mumbled almost as if sobbing.

"Its depth and utility as a field of study are second to none. You and scum like Silgrim Fonerth are the problem. The Black Tower isn’t some branch of magic that needs to sacrifice others to grow stronger!"

-But absorbing the souls of others allows one to grow incomparably faster. That’s an overwhelming strength unique to the Black Tower.

The lich, losing interest, spoke in a dull voice.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

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-How weak you youngsters are. Obsessing over the opinions of others makes you so fragile. If you want something, take it. Kneel, kill, and dominate. Don’t bother taking the long, hard road when an easy path is right there.

Boom!

The lich kicked Borg’s golem, sending it tumbling powerlessly to the ground.

-Look at yourselves. So-called black mages, necromancers, wasting your precious souls on puppets like these. You should be ashamed.

"...."

Oscar, who had been quietly listening, let his eyes grow cold.

‘Just as I thought.’

Ever since he didn’t sense the aura of death in the golems, he had suspected something.

That perhaps those golems didn’t contain the souls of others but something else entirely.

‘I didn’t expect them to use their own souls, though.’

He had assumed it must involve someone else’s soul.

But no, their secret technique harmed no one else.

They bore all the risks themselves.

Now he understood why Gale and Borg were in such a state after their golems were destroyed.

Even if it was only partial, their souls had taken direct damage.

It made perfect sense.

"...."

Oscar slowly closed his eyes.

Every time he shut them, memories of Silgrim Fonerth’s undead army haunted him.

The cries of his comrades and subordinates, who had died fighting those monstrosities, still echoed in his ears.

‘But.’

The Black Tower had changed.

They hadn’t run from the mistakes of their predecessors.

Instead, they faced them head-on with courage and dignity.

They even went so far as to sacrifice their souls to change the perceptions of those who viewed them with prejudice.

‘...Who could dare?’

Who could dare label them traitors or point accusing fingers at them?

Slowly, very slowly, Oscar opened his eyes.

His gaze now held a calm clarity that had not been there before.

With a resolute motion, he pulled out a vial of high-grade potion from his pocket and placed it on the ground.

"This is a top-tier potion from the White Tower. Give it to them. It’ll save their lives."

"What?"

Kiri turned to look at him with a stunned expression.

It was as if she couldn’t believe what he was saying when they were all about to die.

"Give them the potion, and once they wake up, get out of the dungeon."

"...What?"

She repeated the same words like a parrot, dumbfounded.

It was no wonder-his actions made no sense.

"You’re not seriously planning to buy time against that monster, are you? For us?"

"I’m not just trying to buy time."

Oscar looked at the lich calmly as he spoke.

"I’m going to eliminate that creature."

"...Oh, I see. You’ve gone insane from fear. You’re a lunatic."

She cursed instinctively.

Typical of a friend, she thought; this reminded her so much of Veronica.

Oscar chuckled silently, glancing at her before speaking honestly.

"Kiri Gloria. I admire how you’ve chosen to confront the mistakes of the past. I think it’s admirable."

"...What’s with this all of a sudden?"

"That’s why, when they wake up, take them and leave. The Black Tower needs people like you."

Hearing their conversation, the lich burst into laughter.

-Hah! What drivel. Listening to this nonsense is tiresome. A mere level-3 mage-

His sentence was abruptly cut off.

"Shut up."

-...!

The lich’s glowing eyes flickered violently.

‘When did he-?’

He instinctively flinched at the novice mage who had closed the distance in an instant.

That ominous magic, soft yet razor-sharp, felt disturbingly familiar.

"Hey! Hey, you!"

Oscar waved lightly at Kiri’s shouting from behind before boom!

He stomped, collapsing the floor beneath him.

* * *

The next moment, he and the lich fell together to the lower floor.

...Hoo.

The lich suppressed his rising irritation.

Falling to the same spot he had already climbed out of was vexing enough.

‘More than that.’

His glowing eyes fixed on the novice mage, now filled with displeasure.

-I see it now. That vile, white tower magic.

Now he understood why he had hesitated for a moment against this brat.

‘It’s because of that damn White Tower Master. Though he’s probably long dead by now.’

The lich raised a hand, and spikes of “Hatred’s Thorn” rose in response.

He intended to swiftly kill this level-3 mage and climb back up.

Someone had just come into contact with his “vessel,” and he couldn’t delay any longer.

"First, let’s see—"

At that moment, the lich suddenly felt as if the world was rising upward.

But of course, the world doesn’t rise upward on its own.

-...!

What he felt was the sensation of himself collapsing.

His body, made of bone, had been sliced into hundreds-no, thousands-of pieces without him even realizing.

-What, what is this?

He quickly restored his shattered body, his glowing eyes flickering like trembling candles.

"..."

Reflected in the flickering dungeon torchlight, his opponent’s face betrayed no emotion.

It reminded him of the fearsome presence that had once forced him into slumber.

Just like Oscar Sage had been back then.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

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