In the conference hall on the 50th floor of the Ivory Tower, magicians gathered.
The conference hall had a circular platform at the very center, surrounded by layers of ring-shaped chairs.
Those under twenty, who had wielded shadowless magic or advanced to the fourth circle, carefully observed the moment when their future would be decided from the back.
“Do you know exactly what we are deciding today?”
“I heard it’s related to grimoires.”
“It’s not about the grimoire itself; it’s about an essential discussion on how to use it.”
Young magicians, who had successfully commercialized their self-made magic tools after publishing papers, were sitting in the middle aisle with gleaming eyes.
“Since they are knowledgeable, there shouldn’t be any problems in business.”
“I think we also need to consider this as magicians.”
“Regarding the truth.”
The masters and elders of each school, who would actively participate in the discussion, clustered close to the platform and cleared their throats.
“It seems everyone has already decided their answers in their minds.”
“Didn’t we start searching for the truth when we were twenty?”
“It’s amusing to talk about this now.”
Elites from all generations of the Ivory Tower were gathered there.
The elder of the Dark School, Blahorn, stepped onto the platform and opened his mouth.
He was a man of imposing presence, dressed in a black robe adorned with purple patterns, with a pair of horns protruding above his temples.
“Then let’s begin.”
An optical magic phenomenon sparkled, and a huge illusion of a grimoire appeared above the elder’s head.
“Is the truth sought solely through personal inquiry? Is it understanding what already exists? Can we reach the truth by understanding what already exists? If so, must the means to achieve it not be restricted by the rules of the Ivory Tower?”
This had been a topic that many magicians in the Ivory Tower, regardless of generation, had fallen into recently.
It had all begun when an elder successfully organized an ancient elven script system.
Thanks to that, grimoires that had only been preserved in storage could now be read, leading to tremendous advancements in fields like spirit magic, enchantment magic, biological magic, and enhancement magic.
And among those grimoires, there was one that described the method of ‘dealing’ with the old.
The way to understand the old was to corrode it, which would render understanding of this world impossible.
That was the common understanding of the world; however, ancient elves had successfully extracted knowledge and power from the old in some form through certain means.
This was a profoundly captivating matter for magicians who pursued knowledge and truth.
The elder of the Flame School, Ephija, raised her hand and spoke.
“We are discoverers, not inventors. Whatever we seek and create is originally existing. So the truth is not found; it is understood.”
The high elf half-breed wearing a red robe scanned the audience and continued.
“And our Ivory Tower imposes no restrictions on the pursuit of truth.”
However, before her statement could settle, the elder of the Frost School, Seoriso, rose from his seat.
“The elven ruins where that grimoire was discovered were devastated. They likely faced defeat in a war or had internal strife; it can’t have been a truth, but a trap.”
“Statements of such conclusions…!”
“If it was a trap, there’s no need for further discussion. The first two cases are the same. If it was the truth, they would have understood it all, so there would have been no internal strife, and the one who found the truth could not have lost a war.”
Seoriso, a translucent-haired winter fairy half-breed magician, spoke without looking at anyone.
“There hasn’t been a magician who claimed to have found the truth. Understanding what already exists cannot lead to the truth. We are at the forefront. Thus, we are seekers. Yet, to seek the truth through knowledge of the old, beings that have been targeting this world for thousands of years? It’s nonsense.”
“Then…”
A heated debate unfolded, and intense discussions continued for quite some time.
Everyone present was someone who had experienced all-nighters for research at least once a month.
Some even recited papers on the spot to refute others.
The academy’s newcomers either passed out from taking notes or staggered from mental corruption, while the elite pondered how to expand their businesses based on the outcomes.
After about a week, the time for voting finally arrived.
The Ivory Tower did not operate on a majority-rule system.
Truth could not be determined by majority vote.
However, when it came to postponing overly sensitive issues in the name of “stabilization,” there was nothing better than this.
“Pro.”
“Pro.”
“Con.”
The elders raised their hands one by one, while the young magicians who had spent a week taking notes trembled their hands.
It was immensely regrettable that there was no automatic secretary magic.
“Gestarte. You’re the last.”
The head of the Electric School said.
“Oh, sorry. What’s the score now?”
“It’s almost even. There’s one more in favor.”
The flamboyant magician Gestarte, with shiny red hair and a glamorous hat veiled in netting, obscured her eyes and ears.
Dressed elaborately enough to resemble a top fashion designer and draped in fur, she held a fist-sized garnet-studded staff.
The best practitioner of the Electric School and the master of Sererassie.
She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and then opened them.
By nature, she would have expressed support.
After all, she believed that no hindrance should occur on the road to finding the truth.
But.
“Do not obsess too much over Urglim’s penpoint.”
“The elders might think they can decode the ancient grimoires with that, but…”
“It was a catastrophic plan that would lead to the corruption of intelligence by arbitrarily outputting uncontrolled knowledge, ultimately leading everyone down the path of corruption.”
The words of the overly confident white-haired duke who had come with her disciple echoed in her mind.
Wasn’t the grimoire she attempted to decode with her automatic scribe Urglim’s penpoint?
“Con.”
Immediately, gasps and shouts erupted.
All the magicians who knew her looked on in astonishment.
“Gestarte!”
“Why such a choice?”
“You?”
The first to speak, elder Blahorn of the Dark School, stumbled when he moved his right leg two steps forward, and Seoriso, who had been tightly closing his eyes, gaped in shock. Even Ephija of the Flame School cast a de-masking spell.
Gestarte, receiving all those gazes, calmly addressed the new disciple she had accepted after Sererassie.
She was one of the few newcomers who had successfully recorded all the discussions over the past week.
“When we return, I’ll designate time for you to organize everything you learned and felt this time. Do you have any questions?”
“Will that grimoire be sealed now?”
“No. This is merely a formality. If something goes wrong, we, the opposers, bear no responsibility.”
The two walked out into the corridor, leaving behind the still shouting magicians.
Sunlight poured in from the broad windows.
“So, they can proceed with their summoning at will?”
Gestarte glanced briefly at Ephija and Blahorn.
It seemed they were sharing their resolve with clasped hands.
“Exactly.”
“Then we might be caught in the crossfire?”
“Indeed.”
“Shouldn’t we stop it?”
Gestarte adjusted the ample hem of her dress as she spoke.
“On what grounds would we stop them? I have carried out experiments that everyone opposed countless times. I even succeeded.”
The Ivory Tower left no limits in the pursuit of truth.
“Then.”
The disciple’s orange eyes flickered with anxiety.
“We need to call someone from outside.”
“That’s also forbidden… Ah!”
Gestarte, who had been walking toward the window in the corridor, cast a shadow on her disciple.
Shiny red hair, a grand hat adorned with feathers and netting, and a dazzling dress made Gestarte appear several times larger than her already tall stature.
“Sorry to say this in front of you, but that child is my finest masterpiece.”
Yet the orange-eyed disciple would not back down.
“My turn will come to become the next masterpiece.”
In the lab of Sererassie, a sea of gold and silver, throwing all the order drafts utilizing new reagents onto the floor.
“Is this what you call a masterpiece? Shouldn’t it at least be better than the existing solution? Did you hear my explanation through your ear holes or your nostrils?”
Her disciples crawled on the floor, desperately crying out, while students shivered in corners.
“Lady Sererassie!”
“Please read it once more!”
“I even ventured into a dragon’s den to bring back that mushroom, and I distributed it to you all at 1kg each! Not 10g or 100g, but 1kg! If you brought something like this, do you think you would have had any other reaction? If you hadn’t called it a masterpiece, I wouldn’t have been this furious. Are you mocking me?”
“Just give us another chance…”
The disciples pleaded with tears.
Seeing the disastrous results, Sererassie couldn’t bring herself to turn them away.
After all, she had been given a chance herself.
“I’ll give you another 100g. If you fail this time, I’ll send you to the team that makes magic scrolls.”
“Understood!”
“I’ll do my best!”
The disciples, rolling on the floor, grabbed pieces of blue mushrooms and dashed back to the lab.
I extended a bread bag to Sererassie.
“Feed me later.”
“I already have some.”
Indeed, there was a pile of bread stacked on one side.
When I sent her a surprised glance, she replied.
“Don’t look at me with those undesirable eyes. If I don’t feed you, no results will come. If I do and there are still no results, then I’ll be the one getting angry.”
“True.”
“I feel like holding on to this alone won’t lead to any progress. I think I need to visit my master. They’ve sent an invitation after all.”
The master’s invitation.
Hearing those words, I narrowed my eyes.
“Wasn’t everything going well?”
“That’s for the scroll business. ‘Spreading’ and ‘digging.’ That side has just started mass production. The empty ones have gone that way.”
Truly, a genius is a genius.
Creating one spell takes years of focused research.
To optimize and stabilize it enough to mass-produce it in scrolls takes an average of about five years.
When a workshop utilizing one’s own spells is operational, one can be considered to have achieved great success as a magician.
However, she had managed to mass-produce two spells in less than six months.
“So what do you need advice on now?”
“You wouldn’t understand even if I told you.”
“Cut that part out and say it simply.”
“If you want it simple, then it’s true I won’t understand? Um. It’s research on reagent efficiency.”
“That’s important.”
I followed Sererassie out of the Imperial Magic Guild.
She looked at me with a face that asked “Why are you following me?” but soon wore an expression of resignation.
“I’m telling you in advance, don’t draw your sword there.”
“Why would I draw my sword? You’re the one going on a business trip. I’m the advisor and assistant here.”
“Me? And you?”
“You’re the guild master and the main communication officer of the Ivory Tower. Should I order a nameplate for you?”
“When did I get such a title?”
“I reported to His Majesty and had it created. Utilizing the existing structure of organizations is important. It allows for efficient utilization of talent and clarifies duties.”
Sererassie let out a deep sigh.
“Sounds like a 40-year veteran bureaucrat. You’re amazing. Truly, you have so many ways to annoy me.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s not it. Don’t misinterpret others’ words. It’s a bad habit.”
I smiled wryly.
“This isn’t misinterpretation; it’s virtue. Not many people are kind to me like this? Take it as an honor.”
“Lightning!”
*
On the 60th floor of the Ivory Tower, Gestarte’s workshop resembled that scene again.
Adorned with red jewels and silver decorations, filled with curtains and tapestries of various colors.
It felt like stepping into a flashy costume shop.
At that moment, a disciple of Sererassie’s age cast jealous glances at her.
With flowing bright gray hair and striking orange eyes filled with intense emotions, she was noteworthy.
Sererassie spoke with her master for a long while.
With layers of colorful clothing and a feathered hat, she stood before the wizard.
“So, does that mean the Flame School and Dark School are planning to view that grimoire tied to the old?”
“Correct. By now, their laboratories are likely fully set up.”
Cough!
I nearly spat out my tea.
The wizards seemed to have collectively gone mad.
Sererassie examined me from head to toe.
She too wore an expression full of anxiety.
Having fought alongside me against the Infiltrators several times, she must have deeply felt the dangers.
“Little brother.”
“What is it, sister?”
“I think we need to stop this.”
She stood up, her gold-and-silver aura gleaming.
I tested her resolve with a question.
“Didn’t the Ivory Tower not care about ethics and common sense from the outside? Moreover, this is an autonomous region.”
“They are trying to bring the tower down whole. Moreover, with two dukes standing above the law, who cares for some autonomy ordinances? Let’s go.”
I laughed lightly and asked.
“Then is it okay to draw swords?”
Sererassie gathered electricity into her staff and replied.
“Let’s go.”
