Silence fell. Gorgoph turned his head toward Danao.
“So, we were comrades after all, Danao! You’ve truly devised an impressive scheme!”
It was less of a shout and more of a wail. It was a conspiracy theory born from deep betrayal, a self-justification spewed out in desperation.
In truth, it was hard to dismiss it as just a conspiracy theory. After all, Danao himself had received hints from that person about such a situation.
“To use the sacred artifact as bait to gather Argyreion’s traitors…”
Yet, none of them could have foreseen that this simple bait operation would end in such a manner. They had anticipated dealing with the traitors swiftly, restoring stability to the Magic Tower without much ado, not trembling under the weight of betrayal.
All Danao could think about now was the empty sight of the Amimone Magic Tower. The only one who had requested access to the Magic Core was Gorgoph, and the one Danao had temporarily authorized for its use was also Gorgoph.
But what was happening inside the tower with ‘the Agent,’ or as Argyreion called them, ‘the Adversary,’ remained a mystery.
To formally use the Magic Core, approval from the Tower Master is required, but surely there are other tactics like hacking that could bypass this.
Even if the Proper Tower boasted high-level security systems, couldn’t Blasphemia, a secretive organization, have developed ways to circumvent modern security measures?
“…No.”
Could that person really be an agent of Blasphemia? Danao found himself questioning everything.
The sole proof the agent had provided was a membership card identifying them as part of Panoptes. But if they were indeed a Blasphemia agent, everything written on it was likely a disguise—a false business card.
Danao hadn’t even seen the card himself. At the time, the mage acting as the gatekeeper had testified, “I’ve seen the Panoptes agent’s credentials,” and when the person introduced themselves as being from Panoptes, Danao had simply believed it.
“More accurately, I assumed they were a Blasphemia agent hiding behind the massive entity known as Panoptes.”
But now, everything had to be doubted.
It was common knowledge among those who reached the rank of Tower Masters that the leadership of Argyreion consisted of former agents of Blasphemia.
But were these individuals, whom Argyreion referred to vaguely as “the Adversary,” truly agents of Blasphemia?
Amidst growing confusion, Gorgoph lunged at Danao. Though slightly misguided, Gorgoph’s actions stemmed from trust in the alliance with Argyreion and concern for the safety of his comrades left behind in the tower.
Danao quickly evaded. At this range, mere dodging wouldn’t suffice against an attack. He needed to employ Amimone’s Vision Magic, which temporarily transforms parts of a magician’s body into venomous appendages.
But it was a mistake.
“Water!”
Roots erupted from the ground, piercing through Danao’s liquid-transformed body and greedily absorbing it. Though he hastily returned to his original form, significant damage had already been done.
“My bl**d is insufficient… perhaps my liver too?”
For someone handling poisons, maintaining a higher percentage of artificial body parts would ensure safety. However, Danao believed his own flesh to be the best catalyst, so his artificial transformation ratio wasn’t very high.
His specialty was freely converting biological parts into venomous appendages in close combat, but now, having been absorbed by the roots, it proved to be a grave error.
His vision blurred. Attempting to replenish his bl**d through alchemy, the silver fragments of roots embedded like splinters hindered circulation.
As Danao wheezed, oddly clear footsteps echoed.
Thud. Thud.
Struggling with his uncooperative body, Danao forced himself to lift his head. The scenery swirled as if alcohol had been poured directly into his cerebral cortex, yet amidst the distortion stood a dark silhouette.
No. A strangely faint face, where only the blue eyes and smile glowed eerily bright.
“You…”
Whether it was Gorgoph or Danao himself who muttered this, it was unclear.
The man’s lips seemed to twitch. That ominous smile was the last thing Danao saw before losing consciousness.
“Traitor—!”
Gorgoph shouted, releasing all limits on his combat enhancements, preparing every spell he could launch. Yet something strange occurred.
While basic enchantments detecting thermal signatures clearly identified the usurper of Argyreion, advanced ones distinguishing individual magical patterns failed to recognize them.
“Is it because the artifacts plastered around interfere with magical frequencies? Or is it Blasphemia’s unique method of suppressing magical waves?”
Despite efforts to suppress magical waves, there were limits. More likely, it was the effect of the artifacts.
Through gritted teeth, Gorgoph connected his targeting device directly to his brain, switching to manual aiming. Eight spells were ready to unleash at any moment.
But Gorgoph hesitated. There was some indescribable emotion preventing him from firing. Why had this person deceived him so thoroughly, only to abandon the Amimone Magic Tower and come here?
Listening to the communications flowing from the Magic Core would reveal the impostor’s lies and expose them as Argyreion’s adversary to everyone.
“…Relay via the Magic Core.”
The possibility that the impostor might have listened to those communications terrified Gorgoph.
Inside the Tower Master’s chamber where the Magic Core rested, his fellow comrades were present.
“What did you do to my comrades!”
“Oh, they’re just taking a little nap. They might have nightmares, but their lives are safe.”
With calm assurance, the figure whispered.
He wanted to fire now. But the moment the attack began, anything could happen to his incapacitated comrades.
Gorgoph glanced over his shoulder. Sprigo, towering almost to the heavens, stood behind him. Normally, such a large size would increase the chance of being hit, but for Sprigo, who had transformed himself into a plant, the risk was worth the reward.
The same roots that pierced Danao’s abdomen extended countless times across the entire city of Algus, drawing extradimensional magic.
If an explosive surge of magic, far surpassing personal dimensions, could be constructed, it might vaporize the impostor before they could even act.
The silver tree’s voice reverberated through the air.
“I…”
Sprigo’s senses extended across the entire city of Algus, thanks to the ever-growing roots. It didn’t take long to detect someone approaching the Amimone Magic Tower.
However, Sprigo deliberately ignored the humanoid figure approaching. Engaging with the Adversary was dangerous merely by looking.
This wasn’t about perpetuating urban legends of dying upon seeing them. There was a reason why they revealed themselves.
—At least according to the fragmented memories of Argyreion’s remaining officers.
He must grow as quickly as possible to establish a powerful enough dimensional relay field to signal the main division of Argyreion beyond the Extradimensional Storm.
“The Adversary is here.” Haltoz needs to know.
But even avoidance had its limits. Especially when they approached directly and started speaking. Hundreds of the thousands of eyes shimmering on the silver leaves moved reflexively, driven by rage bubbling up from the marrow.
Before focus could fully settle, discussions began among Sprigo’s mind and the countless small consciousnesses residing in his roots.
What should they do with this Adversary?
Of course, the optimal answer would be attacking without exchanging words.
Simultaneously, that would be foolish. Their appearance itself indicated a level of confidence. Sprigo didn’t overestimate his abilities.
Only Chairman Haltoz could triumph against such malevolent wisdom. His role was to buy time while growing into a biological relay capable of breaking through the Extradimensional Storm.
Let’s start with a casual taunt.
“Heretic dog, are you still wandering around without a real face or name?” That should suffice. If so—
The moment the eyes blooming instead of fruit focused on the Adversary’s face—
“FING SHITTY PIECE OF sh*t!!”
Fuelled by an overwhelming wave of anger, Sprigo unleashed raw, unfiltered rage.
Given the intensity of emotion, the fact that his verbal outburst amounted to mere s*xual references hinted at his sophistication as a member of society.
Ortes shrugged once.
“Are we old acquaintances? My apologies for not recognizing you.”
And then calmly added,
“I’ll ensure we don’t meet again.”
