Sprigo didn’t try to expand his power alone. The silver soldier Drakma he had brought along, although a mass-produced soldier, had other uses for the giant Sprigo.
Drakma was filled with extra-dimensional magic. Being a master of plant magic, Sprigo could naturally absorb the extra-dimensional energy within Drakma.
At the same time, Sprigo was also Drakma’s commander. He relocated Drakma across Algoth City to places that would make absorption easier.
In the process, the wizards of Amimone Tower, who fell into a stalemate, could finally catch their breath. They wondered if there was any connection between the gigantic tree that sprouted in the city center and Drakma’s retreat, but they couldn’t make any reckless moves.
All communication was cut off almost simultaneously with the explosive growth of the silver giant tree. In this ominous silence, the surviving wizards of Amimone had to focus on their immediate survival.
At the base of the silence was Orthes.
*
Sprigo’s expansion knew no bounds. Did he think that trying to expand in the open where I could see would risk being detected? He kept extending underground through the networks of Algoth City, consuming the silver thread worms along the way.
I was waiting for Sprigo to gobble up all the silver thread worms. If there were even some forces left for contact with Argyrion, my future plans would be filled with great and beautiful issues.
‘No. I should say problems have already arisen.’
What’s up with that Halto guy pinpointing me as the culprit just as something strange happens?
Sprigo had now devoured all Drakma. This meant I could focus all my attention on Sprigo without straining myself to keep an eye on multiple locations.
I quickly reached into my pocket and grabbed a bubble-filled container. Sprigo reacted promptly.
“Gorgopf! Block the enemy!”
I could see magic gathering in the tree’s trunks. It was likely trying to project a message with the output strong enough to ride over a storm by gathering the massive magic flowing in from the roots.
Despite his depleted magic and wounds, Gorgopf attacked without hesitation. However, it was unfortunate.
Before he could imbue his body with poison attributes or turn the ground beneath me into a swamp, I was already holding a bubble-blowing stick.
Hoo.
Bubbles formed along with my breath. Beyond the bubbles floating towards the sky, I could see Gorgopf’s face severely distorted.
That’s just how it looked from the thorns area. What I saw was not just his external features but the accumulated information about his existence itself.
I removed what was unnecessary. The things I needed to erase weren’t Algoth City or Amimone Tower. I found it doubtful whether the Mage Tower Core could be smoothly erased as it was connected to the Ten Commandments, and Amimone Tower should fall into Knemon’s hands.
So, the information visible to my eyes was just the physical essence making up Sprigo and Gorgopf charging at me.
Questions flickered across Gorgopf’s expression. In this situation? That kind of thing?
Various spells had already explosively erupted from the traitor’s grasp. Usually, mages focus on honing their talents in a few attributes, but one can temporarily bypass that limit using enchanted gear or magic imprint devices.
The first spell Gorgopf unleashed was lightning, that can be deemed synonymous with offensive magic. The moment that initial shot hits, countless spells will follow in a rush along the residual magic traces. It was a clever choice.
But slow.
The lightning magic, which should have struck at the speed of light upon launch, was luckily delayed in its advance thanks to Sprigo’s magic absorption phenomenon as he turned into a giant tree.
An influence Sprigo himself didn’t expect. It was a natural occurrence that accompanied his bodily mutation into a massive tree, rather than a spell he built intentionally.
Just as typical plants absorb carbon dioxide and release oxygen, the extra-dimensional giant tree absorbed magic and converted it back into extra-dimensional magic.
For humans, it’s as natural as breathing. Some of the magic charged inside the enchanted gear was being drawn into Sprigo’s gravity, weakening the magic’s completeness. That granted me some precious time.
Each strand of magic flowing along the structure of the spell Gorgopf prepared projected into the bubbles.
I saw everything I needed.
I raised my finger.
Tap.
*
Danao opened his eyes. The sky still shone with chaotic hues, but the silver-towered mage who divided his sight had vanished somewhere.
Instead, only one self-proclaimed “agent” with shining blue eyes stood before him.
“You….”
“Don’t worry. Amimone Tower is safe.”
“What?”
“The mages who rushed out to chase Argyrion with you are alive. The tower’s capabilities remain intact.”
Danao felt no emotion from the words of that person. No mockery or deception—just indifference.
‘For some reason, I don’t know why they’re keeping me alive….’
If it’s to survive, I should struggle as much as I can, right?
“Are you planning to use me for something?”
“No.”
A calm answer. But for Danao, it was undoubtedly a chilling verdict.
“Then why are you keeping me alive?” Danao glanced around. Oddly enough, neither the gigantic Argyrion’s executives nor the tower’s traitors were visible.
“Because I must keep the promise I made. Please, hear me out for a moment.”
Clunk. The agent pulled something from his robe. It was the so-called “relic” that they said they would use to lure Argyrion.
“Actually, this relic has already been used once. Not as bait, but for its original purpose.”
“What?”
“This is Estia’s lamp.”
Slowly, the smiling man began to explain what he did while remaining in Amimone Tower.
*
Estia’s lamp isn’t particularly useful in combat. Its sole purpose is to provide a peaceful sleep to those who bask in its light.
Hmm, I thought you’d pay close attention to that part.
Yes. It’s an object used on ‘people.’ Although it offers a peaceful sleep, I’ve researched various uses for it.
The way each person accepts ‘peace’ can differ. For some, a dreamless deep sleep may be peace, while for others, waking up refreshed after dreaming of good memories from the old days could be peace.
The standard for what constitutes a peaceful sleep as judged by this relic is defined by its user.
When you, Danao, and Gorgopf began to seriously converse with Sprigo, I knocked everyone gathered in the tower’s main hall unconscious and broke the communication relay function of the Mage Tower Core.
Then I lit the lamp.
Yes. Even while unconscious, lighting the lamp satisfied the condition of having ‘slept while basking in its light.’
It showed a dream.
When I awoke after being knocked out, I was bound, and a scene where both you, Danao, and Gorgopf were internal traitors of Argyrion was transmitted through the Mage Tower Core.
In the dream, I would declare that I was Blasphemia’s agent, announcing that this insufferable conspiracy had come to an end.
The end of the dream would be the traitors bound, once again collapsing into unconsciousness.
*
Danao muttered in confusion.
“You… why…?”
The first question that arose was how unnecessarily cumbersome the author’s approach was, regardless of their intentions. Whether to kill him or spare him, it would have been much faster to move directly than to manipulate things in such a roundabout manner.
However, the author had gone out of their way to instill the false narrative that he was an internal traitor within the traitors’ minds.
With the calmness of a teacher answering a student’s question in class, the answer flowed.
“My goal isn’t your assassination. It’s about passing your place on to someone else. Thus, you must not die a normal death. A situation must be prepared that leaves disqualifying attributes for you, Danao, as a tower master.”
“So, you’re making me an internal traitor of Argyrion?”
“Yes. Your qualifications as tower master will be fundamentally rescinded and returned to one of the numerous factions of Amimone Tower, one of the ideologically clean ones.”
“Ha. Hahaha…”
Danao laughed maniacally. The position of tower master he clung to would now be irretrievably lost.
“One… no, I’ll ask two things.”
As he resigned himself to everything, the hesitation vanished. Watching the man before him nod, Danao asked.
“Who will inherit my place?”
“Knemon.”
“…Who?”
“The last direct descendant of the Tabnining Tower that you once crushed under your hand. It is his revenge.”
To Danao, it was a faint memory. He had demolished countless towers.
“Once, a friend of mine said over drinks that he wanted to engrave his name by recounting how he toppled your tower, just like you did.”
This was now that very situation.
“I’ve come to fulfill that request.”
Laughing suppressively, Danao asked one last time.
“Your name. Right. The name.”
Suddenly realizing that everything was going wrong because of that ‘name.’
“What’s your name?”
“How many letters should I answer with?”
“Start from the short ones.”
“If it’s a name written in three letters, it would be Utis—”
Nobody, nobody at all.
What an absurd name this was.
The irony of the name ‘Nobody’ arose as the last emotion Danao felt.
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