Round 29: Rebellion
A mage who is properly and thoroughly prepared is invincible—Talanthi believed this firmly.
Magic shields of various colors and types shimmered around his body, ranging from the simplest shield spells to the Super Golden Bell Shield that could withstand attacks from almost any weapon. Talanthi had protected himself almost perfectly.
Meanwhile, Old Kiskein continued to chant spells slowly, pausing occasionally to scratch his head as if wondering how to pronounce the next line.
Talanthi couldn’t decipher Kiskein’s spells—partly because of the complex incantations and words, and partly because Kiskein seemed to utter them in a chaotic and even contradictory manner. Talanthi truly didn’t understand how this old fool managed to avoid magical chaos.
Perhaps striking first was the right choice. That’s what Talanthi thought, but his movements and words remained uninterrupted; every gesture was perfect, every word clear and precise. If not for his ridiculous forehead and hairstyle, he could have served as a textbook example of how to use magic—his shield against energy damage had already taken shape. This was his style, his pride: first ensure invincibility, so no matter how many changes the opponent made, he would remain unshaken, and then deal with the opponent at his own pace.
Kiskein didn’t interrupt Talanthi’s efforts to construct his shield. He took out a small paper packet from his robe, removed the ingredients needed for his spell, checked them, and realized they weren’t what he needed, so he stuffed them back into his sleeve. But then he changed his mind and put them in his mouth—after all, the candy could stick to his clothes.
Kiskein swallowed, and Talanthi finished his preparations at the same time.
“To underestimate me like this!” Talanthi was furious. But he didn’t become careless. He adopted one of the most common combat tactics among mages: using magic missiles as a probe. He saw no signs of Kiskein having cast any shields, and even if he had, Talanthi had a series of countermeasures to break through his magical defenses. He had even thought of how to end this old fool who kept pestering him—Death Command. That old bone of Kiskein would never be able to withstand such a spell. Of course, first he needed to remove any death-resistant barriers the old man might have.
Along with Talanthi’s magic missiles came red beams of magical energy and powerful blows like raging waves.
The terrifying attacks came suddenly, leaving Talanthi dizzy. Kiskein’s magic didn’t cause any direct harm to him, but the magical defenses he had built crumbled rapidly under the invisible waves, just like a hut swept away by floodwaters, utterly helpless.
While Kiskein was wiping candy residue from his beard, Talanthi was defenseless, like a naked girl.
“How dare you release the spells stored in the Chain Accident spell on someone else? You—” Talanthi’s eyes widened in shock, unable to hide his astonishment.
“Hmm… Well, poor little Tanolanti.” Kiskain wiped his hands; his few strands of beard were comically stuck together. “Dealing with a fool like you who just follows the book is the easiest thing in the world…”
He stared intently at Tanolanti. “Oh… A dullard like you, who always puts on shoes in the same order every morning, how dare you talk to me about status or research?”
“Shut up! You old fool!” Tanolanti steadied himself, a blazing orb of light appearing between his hands. “I’ve always been among the best among the Agus mages! It’s because of old men like you and Singer who control the Council that I can’t advance further or access deeper mysteries. If I could truly master the magical knowledge and resources stored by the Council, with my talent, surpassing you would be a piece of cake!”
Deadly magical energy burst from Tanolanti’s hands, like a river of scorching lava rushing toward Kiskain, but it was blocked by the magical shield emanating from the old mage—another chain reaction spell was activated. As Kiskain was attacked, the pre-stored magical energy was instantly activated, creating an impenetrable defense system.
Now it was Kiskain’s turn to stand calmly behind the shield, raising his hands. Before Tanolanti could identify the type of protection on him and find the corresponding counter-spell in his memory, Kiskain had already used a “spell sequence” to release three massive fireballs at once.
The hall was instantly filled with explosions of flame.
The fire elements bursting from Kiskain’s hands ignited the floor, tapestries, ceiling… Although fireball spells are among the most commonly used spellcastings in the elemental magic category, possibly even the most common, under the old mage’s masterful control, the three fireballs exploded in a triangular pattern, covering most of the hall. They touched every flammable surface, surrounding the panicked Tanolanti in a sea of fire.
Tanolanti wasn’t hurt by the force of the fireball explosions. As one of the seven highest-ranking mages, he had enough reflexes for that. Before the raging flames could reach him, dual protections—against fire damage and a fire shield—were already in place. Tanolanti didn’t have time to think further. The thick smoke and flames severely impaired his vision and focus. Under such circumstances, he had to quickly decide between fighting or retreating. He realized there was still a huge gap between him and this old man in terms of spell control and usage. In that case, perhaps he should leave first, temporarily ally with Kond, and use his strength along with the imperial army loyal to the royal family to make a comeback…
But in doing so, he would miss this excellent opportunity. Tanolanti’s sharp skull wasn’t just for providing others with talking points; through decades of maneuvering within the Council, especially since helping Singh capture that strange construct, he realized this was the best—and last—chance to get close to the secrets of construction that Singh and Kiskain had guarded for nearly a hundred years. Once he obtained them, why stay in a corner of the continent, entangled with that worthless Council and the Agus Empire?
The light of magic shone through the flames and smoke, but it wasn’t the light of teleportation.
The small pendant on Tanolanti’s chest emitted a grayish-black glow, wrapping around his body and coloring his robes, skin, even his lips and pupils with a thick layer of metallic rust. Soon, his body swelled rapidly, reaching the ceiling in an instant. The burned floor beneath his massive feet cracked under his weight. Now, the only trace of Tanolanti on this huge steel golem was its still-pointed head.
The golem swung its spiked iron fists, shattering the ground as it crashed downward.
Without looking back, the golem smashed through layer after layer of walls, causing a resonant echo in the corridors. Tanolanti decided to go all in. If he happened to encounter Singh, he could always use his always-present instant teleportation stone to escape. With his golem body immune to most magic, he was confident he could reach the central laboratory of construction technology before his modified “Transform into Alien” spell failed. He believed that with years of research and preparation, he could gather all the core secrets he needed. Then, he could build his own construct mage tower like the “Tower No. 8”—no, even more perfect. With that, he wouldn’t only be able to travel freely across the continent but might even establish his own city, or even a nation…
Kiskain didn’t chase after him. He simply stood in the burning hall for a moment, lost in thought, before turning and leaving—walking steadily under the protection of his shield, as if the flames didn’t exist at all.
“Are you sure Forty-Seven is below the Tower of Seven Sins and not above? And that the entrance is right ahead? You’re not going the wrong way, are you? After all, you haven’t been here long!” Dagulas complained as she rushed to keep up with Moriel ahead.
Moriel didn’t respond. Her eyes seemed unfocused, staring blankly ahead like a blind person, yet she didn’t slow down at all, moving even faster.
“Okay, okay, wait for me!” Dagulas held up her mage robe and tried to keep up with Moriel’s fast pace, wearing heels nearly two inches high.
Suddenly, Moriel stopped, causing Dagulas to almost bump into her. Fortunately, Dagulas didn’t deliberately cause trouble at that moment; otherwise, Moriel might not have had time to dodge into the shadow of a pillar.
Daguras didn’t possess Moriel’s razor-sharp intuition, but she cooperated with Moriel’s actions without hesitation. In the brief transition from running to walking, all signs of haste vanished as if some magic had been cast, making her appear radiant, even more graceful than the noblewomen at the party.
A door in the corridor opened, and an old woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses stepped out.
“Daguras, my student… Didn’t I tell you to stay at home and not run around?” Seeing that Daguras seemed equally surprised by her appearance, her tone carried a hint of reproach, yet her kind eyes looked like those of a petted kitten.
“Teacher Aresa! I’m so glad to meet you here!” Daguras stepped forward quickly, without her usual act of coquetry or flattering smiles, which surprised Aresa. “What’s wrong?”
“I found that all the night guards outside the Seven Sins Tower have been killed! We just captured that elf construct, and the high-ranking mage Moriel has turned traitor. Could it be that she and the elves have infiltrated Vatan to rescue the construct?” Daguras’s expression was vivid, and her analysis seemed thorough.
“Oh?” Aresa was shocked. She pushed up her gold-rimmed glasses. “The research on constructs is being personally supervised by Council President Singer. There’s a good chance we’ll make breakthrough progress, just like he did last time with the core. We can’t let those pests disrupt his focus now!”
“I’ll go inform the other archmages right away. Mage Kant should still be at the celebration for the nobles on behalf of the council… You must immediately mobilize the combat forces. If necessary, declare martial law in Vatan…” Aresa gave orders as she turned to leave, but Daguras suddenly reached out and grabbed her sleeve.
“Wait, Teacher Aresa… There’s one more thing—”
Daguras didn’t say what it was, nor did she need to. Black-red flames instantly engulfed the kind-hearted Aresa. Daguras clutched the old woman’s wrists tightly, pouring every ounce of the power borrowed from the Flame Monarch into her teacher’s body. She even felt the surging flames as an extension of her own body, breaking through Aresa’s hastily assembled magical defenses in anger, burning her skin, penetrating her bones, drying up her blood, causing every organ in her body—heart, liver, spleen, lungs, kidneys—to explode bit by bit. Daguras’s delicate face, illuminated by the black flames, appeared terrifying, even her faint smile taking on a sinister look.
Aresa glared at her student through the flames, opening her mouth as if to cast a counter-spell, but the flames flowing from her face into her mouth and throat burned her tongue. By the time the fire subsided, Aresa’s gold-rimmed glasses had melted onto her face, sticking to her hollow eye sockets, making it impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
The corridor was filled with the stench of burning flesh.
With a crisp crack, Aretha’s arm broke. The charred remains fell to the ground, splintering into tiny fragments, with only the severed arm still in Dagulas’s hand remaining intact—though it vanished even after she threw it away. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Dagulas’s smooth forehead as she looked exhausted. This was quite normal for someone who had just burned her own teacher to death. “Teacher Aretha is rarely unprepared like this… I did well, didn’t I?” she turned to Moriel, who stepped out of the shadows, only to find that Moriel wasn’t even looking at her, her eyes glowing like two tiny stars. “Since Aretha is so rarely unprepared… then it’s likely not Aretha you killed,” Moriel said softly. “Others might be forgiven, but when facing the Archmage of the Council, couldn’t you have thought things through before acting?” The side door of the corridor was pushed open again. It was still the old woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses, still Archmage Aretha of the Council—only now her expression was as cold as the ice caps on the northern slopes of the World Spine Mountains. “Red-robed girl, I’ve never liked you,” Aretha said, with dazzling hexagonal ice crystals floating around her, causing the temperature in the corridor to drop sharply. “Dagulas, do you really think I haven’t noticed your pathetic schemes and tricks?” Aretha stood in front of the two of them, pushing up her glasses. “My student, I wanted to give you a chance. But you chose to hide your secrets… It’s truly disappointing. Well, I’ve never really been interested in those aesthetically lacking constructs… Considering it’s best not to get too close to Chairman Singer’s grand plans, perhaps the secrets about Purgatory on you will serve as a good pastime during my future retirement.” Dagulas’s smile became stiff. She reached out, looking at Aretha with a pleading expression, seemingly seeking her teacher’s forgiveness. But at the same time, several icy projectiles flew from the palm of her hand, tracing changing arcs before piercing through the gaps in the ice crystals and striking Aretha’s chest— “Run! This isn’t real either!” Moriel finally saw through the illusion. A storm of twenty missiles rushed past Dagulas and Aretha and into the side door. Under the combined effect of the energy from the missile barrage and the sharp ice pillars that tore through the walls, the corridor and Aretha’s projection avatar collapsed in a thunderous explosion. “Hmm… How’s it going?” When Kiskain entered the underground control room, he had almost reverted to his drowsy, senile appearance. Surrounded by a circle of elder mages, Singer watched Forty-Seven—of course, only his projection in that hall where the giant statues were buried. “Oh, it doesn’t seem to be going well…” Kiskain narrowed his eyes and just in time saw the head of a construct insect explode like a ripe watermelon under Forty-Seven’s punch—It was truly astonishing that a steel head could be shattered by a single blow.
“What he did was nothing but help us stir the fuel faster,” Singh said coldly. “Judging from the remnants of magic on you, you’ve been in a battle—how’s the situation up there?”
“Nothing new,” Kiskain took out another piece of candy. “Little Tanolanti brought some men in trying to take advantage of the chaos, but I drove them away.”
“Driven away?” Singh was surprised. “You didn’t even kill him?”
Singh pointed at the projection. “He must have come here! Ever since the first day he joined the Council, he’s been coveting the secrets of the constructs—even having him work on the development of the ‘Tower No. 8’ couldn’t quell his overambitious desires. I want you to find him and end him. He must not cause any trouble for my plans!”
“There’s no need for that,” Kiskain mumbled as he chewed the candy. “He turned himself into a steel golem… Perhaps in other places, that’s a good way to adapt.”
Singh raised his eyebrows slightly, seemingly no longer paying attention to Tanolanti.
He waved his hand, and the huge projection shifted to show the Tower of Seven Sins. Teams of Agus silver-armored soldiers were entering the squares at the foot of the seven tall towers in the darkness, climbing the white marble steps. Their solemn dignity and murderous intent could be felt even through the magical projection.
“Oh? I didn’t expect that brat Stanley to have such courage.” Kiskain swallowed the candy with some difficulty. He wasn’t afraid of getting cavities from eating such things—after all, his teeth were fake.
Singh snorted disdainfully. “Indeed, I didn’t expect it. I never thought Kant would really collude with the Agus royal family, releasing their domesticated dogs and lowering himself to bark alongside them—there’s no need to worry. After tonight, he and the Agus will mean nothing.”
The image returned to Forty-Seven. The constructs swarmed forward, but he was invincible.
“Aresha is good at adapting to circumstances… She wouldn’t risk anything for the secrets of the constructs.” A columnar control panel similar to the one in the ‘Tower No. 8’ appeared in front of Singh, though the patterns and symbols engraved on it were much more complex. Compared to that one, the one in the ‘Tower No. 8’ was like a child’s drawing on a brick. At the same time, control panels also appeared in front of Kiskain and the other elder mages. “As for that red-robed female mentor named Isabella… She stayed in Vatan even after being stabbed by someone from the Council. She was worth keeping an eye on, but now that the construct I once lost is back in my hands, with everything ready, she’s no longer a concern.”
Kiskain fell silent for a moment before suddenly turning to Singh and asking in a very serious and clear voice, “Perhaps we’re being too hasty. Singh, have you really decided to extract the core completely, activate the Tower of Seven Sins, and bring back the ‘Divine Armaments’?”
Singh didn’t speak, not even turning his head. His hands, resting on the columnar control panel, gradually emitted a faint blue light, and the characters on the panel seemed to be influenced by it, beginning to twist and move.