Round 25: Dissolution

“Lord Kiskain, the dissolution tank is ready!” A senior mage carefully reported to the old mage dozing in his chair, only to receive a meaningless murmur in response.
The mage turned back, troubled, and glanced at the dissolution tank that was already emitting a faint green glow. This could not be delayed; if not activated soon, it might deteriorate within an hour or even minutes.
“Lord Kiskain, we need your instructions—should we put the construct into the dissolution tank now for initial impurity removal?”
“……”
“Lord Kiskain…” The mage mustered the courage to report for the third time before the old mage finally stirred.
“Oh… oh, has it already started?” Kiskain looked around, but no one dared speak. How to create this construct had been decided personally by Council President Singer and Master Kiskain themselves; even the other four highest council mages hadn’t been much involved. If he spoke up now, wouldn’t he appear to be giving orders to start the experiment? Once the construct was completely dissolved in the highly corrosive dissolution tank, who would bear the blame?
The laboratory fell silent, with only the sound of bubbles bursting in the tank and Forty-Seven’s disdainful grinding of teeth in the air.
“Hmm… first, we need to remove the remaining Hellfire energy from this construct…” Kiskain finally remembered to check the experimental plan. “These impurities will affect the purity of the core. They must be completely removed before proceeding to the next stage…”
“Then let’s begin!” After reading the entire plan as if it had been drafted by him, Kiskain finally gave the order.
Perhaps by coincidence, a strange change occurred in the dissolution tank at that moment, causing the bubbling dark green oily liquid to suddenly calm down.
A glowing liquid? Almost certainly a severe pollution source. Daring to get that close—radiation will kill you idiots! If I open this thing, I’ll blast it first—
Forty-Seven grinned, his face illuminated by a green glow, already imagining the flames engulfing the experimental table.
His plans didn’t work out, as the frail Kiskain made a gesture, causing the cubic prison—and him—to fall into the circular dissolution tank below.
The mages surrounding the tank instinctively stepped back, clearly aware of the power of the liquid inside.
Not a single drop spilled—as the cube fell in, the green liquid swelled like a mound, seemingly held together solely by surface tension without spilling over. The surface was as smooth as a mirror, reflecting the pale, distorted faces of the mages.
Inside the cube, Forty-Seven saw a different scene. The cube tilted as it slowly descended until it hit the bottom of the tank. Drops of liquid seeped through the cube’s outer walls, quickly forming large patches, seemingly unaffected by any magical barriers, just like air.
A drop of liquid landed on Forty-Seven’s shoulder and slid down his armor—leaving deep etch marks wherever it passed.

“I thought it was something more serious… Turns out it was just a trick created by those archmages, similar to the one with the acid snakes.” Forty-seven sat cross-legged, completely unfazed by the solutions eroding his buttocks. “If I had known, I could have just caught a few in the swamps near Rain City.”

The solution pool gradually calmed down, and the mages monitoring it anxiously breathed a sigh of relief.

All that was left was to wait… Whether it succeeded or not had nothing to do with us mere mortals. The mages exchanged relieved glances, continuing to pretend to stay at their posts. No one really cared what was happening inside the decomposition pool. Every so often, they analyzed the solution’s composition according to procedure and submitted reports to Kiskain’s desk—though the old mage never even looked at them.

The empire had gained a huge advantage in the war against the elves. When news came that the forest’s interior had been conquered, the whole country erupted in celebrations.

Of course, every citizen of Agus was overjoyed at the empire’s victory over the elves. Though many didn’t even have a reason to hate the elves, and many had never even seen those high nobles portrayed as demons by the empire, their dislike might stem simply from the war making life increasingly difficult for them, or from long-standing habits. From their ancestors, they had inherited not only life and wealth but also hatred toward the elves—a hatred that their ancestors had mostly inherited themselves. To love the empire meant to hate the elves.

The streets were filled with a joyful atmosphere, with flowers and colorful flags everywhere. Merchants displayed their best goods in the windows, shouting their offerings loudly. Circus troupes took the opportunity to hit the streets in hopes of making a fortune. Taverns were filled with songs and dances, and festival celebrations followed one after another.

Most of the imperial troops were still stationed in the forest, but as commanders of this campaign, Kond and a few others were recalled to Vatan City to receive praise from the imperial emperor. When their procession entered Vatan City’s gates, the excitement reached its peak. All the glory went to Kond, even though he hadn’t done much to capture Forty-seven.

“Respected Archmage Kond, please forgive my boldness, but I hope to have the chance to drink with such a great hero,” said Judge Lucas, holding a glass and smiling broadly as he approached.

“Oh, of course. How could I refuse a toast from my master?” While Lucas downed his drink, Kond cast a deep glance at Judge Lucas’s wife, who immediately responded.

It was said that Judge Lucas’s wife was as beautiful as a goddess, and indeed, she was.

Just after the emperor’s celebration for Kond, the ministers flocked to Lucas’s residence. Compared to formal royal banquets, private gatherings were more to their liking—especially since Lucas had already invited Archmage Kond. It seemed this judge was willing to go to great lengths to advance his own career.

There are usually no people here who would make them uncomfortable or dislike them. All the archmages are absent except for Kant, the protagonist of tonight, while as for the other contributors, O’Sullivan naturally wouldn’t receive an invitation, and the rest don’t seem noble enough. The only one present is Dracula, who moved among the crowd throughout the evening. Although many were attracted to her as a woman, her strange personality and status as an imperial mage were disheartening, not to mention her teacher, who was even more untouchable.

“It’s a great honor to have Lord Flickina in my humble home,” said Lucas as Flickina entered the hall in a magnificent court dress. He had even gone home to change clothes before coming here, though this made his already emaciated body look even more like a clothesline.

“Mage Kant truly deserves to be called one of the empire’s greatest mages. Your talent surpasses that of many famous imperial commanders. It seems the war against the elves will soon end, and you will achieve feats that others can never match.” Flickina ignored his host, Lucas, and went straight to Kant, seemingly still resentful that Lucas could invite him. But when it came to flattery, Kant and Flickina seemed to get along well.

In front of the Council, the cabinet was like wine made from jealousy—always competing for attention. It seems this saying among the common people isn’t without reason.

“Haha, far from it…” Kant gave a subtle nod toward a tightly closed door at the back of the hall, smiled knowingly, and went back to greeting other guests.

Flickina wandered around the hall absentmindedly for a while before disappearing through that door. None of this escaped Lucas’s notice. The person he wanted to curry favor with and his political rival were having a secret meeting in his own house. It seemed it would be the Grand Judge’s turn to suffer again.

At that moment, two more dignitaries appeared at the entrance of the hall: Finance Minister Kurit and Foreign Minister Spencer. He had never heard before that they were Kant’s regular guests, let alone that they were close to him. Perhaps even they realized that Kant’s victory might greatly boost his status in the Council.

Lucas, who had been standing among a group of noble colleagues, speaking eloquently, instinctively moved slightly toward a less noticeable corner when he saw Kurit and Spencer arrive.

Suddenly, Lucas felt a surge of anxiety. The laughter and splendor of the banquet seemed to fade away. Looking around, Kant and Dracula had also disappeared. For a moment, it seemed as if only the Grand Judge was left in the hall, which had previously been full of guests.

In Lucas’s luxurious mansion, guests laughed and enjoyed themselves, with loud noises and music filling the air. But at this moment, it all seemed insignificant in the fervent Tanwari. The city was in an uproar.

Isabella stood on the balcony, gazing at the night scenery beyond the Imperial City. The people celebrating all night long and the brightly lit city of Vatan seemed to be in an unprecedented carnival. Colorful processions lined the roads leading to the Imperial City, accompanied by intense rhythms, as everyone was immersed in the joy of victory. It seemed no one remembered that these very roads had recently seen the sad departure in the rain of a beloved and respected Imperial Archmage, Yatu.

“Is this the scene you wanted to see? The goal you’ve strived for all along, you stubborn old man?”

“What are you thinking?” She turned around as a figure slowly stepped out of the darkness, holding two cups filled with the rich, intoxicating aroma of red wine.

“Nothing much. As one gets older, it’s inevitable to reflect,” she replied with a joke, yet she didn’t return to the darkness. Instead, she leaned on the railing, looking melancholic.

Her graceful figure appeared enchanting under the moonlight. Her long brown hair was shiny and flowing, and her smooth skin, comparable to that of any young girl, complemented her beautiful face. It was hard to imagine her as an older woman.

The other person sighed softly, offering no compliments, merely gazing thoughtfully at the night view.

To be honest, Isabella’s age remained a mystery. Her ability to rank among the eight great mentors of the Red Robe Mage Council wasn’t solely due to innate talent—it required years of accumulation. The vast knowledge provided by the Magic Network needed constant study and practice. As a leading mage group among many, the Red Robe Mage Council possessed magical power rivaling that of the Empire. Even archmages like Singer were reluctant to antagonize them easily.

As an envoy sent by the Red Robe Mage Council to the Empire, Isabella enjoyed great respect in the Agus Empire. Though merely a guest, she had the right to attend many high-level meetings of the Imperial Mage Council, demonstrating the Council’s strength and influence.

Of course, this wasn’t an easy task. The Red Robe Mage Council was always ambitious and unwilling to settle for less. They had long coveted the fertile Notari Plains, and the purpose of sending an envoy was obvious. The Empire, too, understood this well—it was just a common diplomatic tactic. Yet it also showed that Isabella was not only an outstanding Red Robe Mage but also exceptional in other aspects, earning the full trust of the Council.

Isabella performed remarkably well. She maneuvered among the Empire’s elite, securing benefits for the Red Robe Mage Council while skillfully avoiding Agus’s power struggles. For years, she maintained a delicate balance between the Empire and the Council through her extensive connections—until the Empire suddenly sent an assassin, none other than the late Archmage Yatu, tasked with carrying out the assassination.

Archmage Yatu was upright and fierce, always putting the Empire’s interests first and working on measures beneficial to the people. His decisive and impartial nature earned him deep affection from the populace. He was one of the archmages closest to the people, and he got along well with Isabella as well.

The moment he launched his surprise attack, Isabella found it hard to believe—such a great mage actually resorting to despicable tactics. As a result, even Yatu failed to kill her. When she reappeared behind the round table in the Great Mage Council Hall, Yatu’s shock was evident; he could hardly believe she had survived under such circumstances.

Given the Empire’s willingness to commit assassination just to obtain Moriel, it was clear Moriel held something important that kept the Empire’s great mages uneasy. Yet due to her own carelessness, she not only failed to gain the upper hand but also nearly lost her life. Losing Moriel didn’t cause her to panic or launch a major response to the Empire’s attempts on her life; instead, she calmly accepted it, letting the matter blow over.

She was well aware that if the Red Robe Mages found out she had lost such a clue, their selfless loyalty wouldn’t be encouraged—even if it cost her nearly her life—they might instead question or even dismiss her.

Her only choice was to swallow this bitter pill and wait for an opportunity.

The opportunity came unexpectedly.

“Would you like to dance?” With the beautiful scenery around them, she turned her head and smiled.

“It’s an honor, but I’m not a good dance partner, and there’s no time either.” The person beside her set down his cup.

“That’s too unfortunate.”

“Please remove the magic from them and create a plausible memory for the time I’m gone.” Following her finger, two figures stood in the corner of the street below her window, motionless like statues.

“Happy to help.” Isabella waved her hand.

“What will my journey be this time? I hope it’s not too absurd.” The dark-haired young man smiled helplessly before vanishing in an instant. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re welcome, Count O’Sullivan.” Leaning against the railing, she smiled brightly.

Flickina looked at Mage Kond who entered the room, his face twisted in anxiety as if the sky were about to collapse, completely different from his calm demeanor outside. “Something serious has happened, Mage Kond! I can’t find Mages Singer and Kiskain, so I had to come to you!”

“Don’t panic. What exactly happened?” Kond was distracted, clearly still thinking of Lady Lucas, who was still gasping for breath in the bedroom on the third floor.

“His Majesty the Emperor is about to attack the Supreme Council!” Flickina leaned in, speaking in a hushed voice. “I had no choice but to come straight to you!”

“Attack?” Kond frowned. “Are you drunk? How could such a thing happen?”

“It’s true!” Flickina seemed on the verge of crying. “I heard it with my own ears in the palace—His Majesty and the Minister of War, Darna, were discussing it. There’s no mistake!”

“You mean they’re going to attack the Supreme Council?” Kond stroked his beard, still incredulous. “How dare you say that without proof? If it turns out to be false, neither the Imperial Cabinet nor the Council will spare you!”

“So there’s absolutely no way I could lie!” Frickina suddenly pulled out a piece of paper from her bosom. “Look, this is an order signed by His Majesty the Emperor for the defense forces of Vatan City. Take a look at this list of generals—none of them are anyone but close confidants of the imperial cabinet!”
Kant took the document but didn’t read it in detail. After a quick glance, he raised his head. “What’s the reason? Why would they target the Council? It makes no sense at all. I think you’d better investigate further! I have very important matters to attend to—this is a complete waste of time!”
“Please wait, Lord Kant! Then, could you tell me where Mage Singer is? I must report this to him! Otherwise…” Suddenly, Frickina couldn’t continue. With a look of disbelief, she lowered her head to look at the huge hole in her chest that almost split her body in two, then her body collapsed abruptly.
Kant, who had already planned to leave, turned back and scattered some unknown powder. Frickina’s body, now reduced to a pile of flesh and blood, emitted a wisp of smoke before disappearing without a trace. The polished marble floor appeared spotless, as if it had just been wiped clean.
“Idiot!” Kant smoothed his sleeve before turning to leave.
Kiskain slept and woke again, waking and sleeping once more. It was remarkable that he could sleep so soundly in such an uncomfortable chair at his advanced age. From time to time, he would make a few gestures or mutter some unclear commands, and the on-duty mages would try their best to guess his intentions and make adjustments—miraculously, nothing went wrong each time.
By the time Singer entered the large laboratory again, almost a whole day had passed.
“That’s enough. Stop the reaction and empty the decomposition tank.” Compared to the old man beside him who was still dazed, the Council Leader’s orders were direct and clear.
The pitch-black solution gradually receded, revealing the cube prison filled with black liquid.
At Singer’s gesture, the cube slowly rose back to its position from a day earlier.
As the liquid drained away, 47 wasn’t completely dissolved, but it didn’t match Singer’s expectations either—even Kiskain’s blurred eyes suddenly sparkled with clarity.
A hand slapped against the wall of the transparent prison—if that could be called a hand.
As the hand moved, a harsh sound followed, leaving behind five long flames on its surface, like a staff of music notes. What appeared before Singer, Kiskain, and the others was a terrifying metal skeleton. It wasn’t entirely accurate to call it a skeleton, as it was a humanoid form composed of numerous complex components. Its intricate humanoid and insect-like skeletal structures were perfectly interwoven. The steel armor and spikes that once covered its body were gone. With every movement, it was possible to see which joints and bones were moving. There were also gaps and hollows in its structure, and one could even faintly see the scenery behind it—though this wasn’t due to fragility or damage…

Two dark red dots lit up; those were forty-seven eyes shining. His throat and jaw moved clearly, like those of a talking skeleton, somewhat exposed due to the lack of protective shell: “Good morning, good noon, good evening, ladies and gentlemen—oh, it seems there are no ladies.”