“How high did you reach on your Tower Exam?” Nick asked, warily watching the tear in space.

[Empyrean Intuition] was telling him this was the Tower’s magic, and since the presence on the other side was muffled in the same way Tholm’s usually was, he was tempted to believe the man was who he seemed to be. However, he thought he could be forgiven for feeling a little paranoid after just facing someone who could wear skin masks and make himself look like anyone.

The Archmage on the other side of the portal smiled at his request. “That is a trick question. I didn’t pass my first exam, nor the second, and when I finally did, it was pretty low in the rankings.”

Nick breathed out. As far as he could tell, no one seemed to be aware of that little nugget of information. Of course, others might have known if they had met Tholm when he first started out or if they held very powerful positions in the Tower, but if this was someone like that, Nick didn’t have a way to stop them from getting what they wanted.

Initially, he’d wanted to escape the secret base and head straight for Xander’s. Clearing his brother of the accusations against him was paramount, and the only way he could do that was by proving not only that Anthony was alive and well but also that a hidden base existed beneath the residential districts, where the conspiracy was unfolding.

But to do that, he would have had to pass through the entire basement with Anthony, who didn’t benefit from the [Ring of Unknowingness], and would likely be noticed as soon as they reached the basement floors.

Could he fight his way through? It was possible, but the odds weren’t very good, especially since now that the high of leveling up four times in a row was fading, he was suddenly reminded of how much he’d had to fight this evening and how exhausted he was.

Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, and his physical stats were high enough to keep going almost endlessly, but he knew his performance would decline, and the moment he stopped, he’d crash. Hard.

So, with all that in mind, and having confirmed as best he could that this was Tholm and not an imposter, Nick stepped through the crack in space, levitating Anthony behind him. He breathed a sigh of relief when his senses extended and confirmed they were on the seventy-seventh floor of the Tower, and not somewhere else that had been made to feel like it through spatial distortions.

“Put the kid down, Nicholas,” Tholm told him, gesturing vaguely toward one of the sofas in the main sitting room.

For once, none of his fellow apprentices were around, which made sense as the faint rays of sunlight peeking beyond the horizon showed that dawn was still on its way.

Nick had gone out in the late afternoon and had apparently been skulking and fighting for almost twelve hours. No wonder I feel so drained.

He did as bidden, laying Anthony down, and felt his knees weaken as the reality of how close he’d come to death hit him hard.

It was just a moment of weakness, and he quickly regained control, but he knew Tholm had noticed, so he clenched his hands to stop them from shaking.

There was still a lot he needed to learn about the events behind the curtain and what led to tonight. His choice to fight Changer instead of joining him was the right one, he knew, but it left him with more questions than answers, which was a very risky situation for someone with as active an imagination as he.

Fortunately, Tholm seemed to realize that now was the time for answers, and he gestured for him to follow into his study, “Let’s go. I owe you at least a part of the truth for what you’ve done.”

Once the door shut behind him and Nick felt the privacy spells activate, he took his seat and grunted. “Only a portion? I’m pretty sure you knew exactly where I’d end up after giving me that much rope to hang myself on. I think I deserve the whole of it.”

Tholm sat behind his cluttered desk and sighed, “That is the right position to take, yes. I do not like using my students as pawns, Nicholas, much less to keep the reasons from them. I have shied away from stepping into the Tower’s factional politics for decades for a reason, and it’s not because I’ve gone senile that I’ve suddenly stepped into the arena.”

For once, there was no mystique or aura of inscrutability about him. Tholm simply looked like a tired old man, his shoulders weighed down by far too much.

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Then, he did something that genuinely shocked Nick.

From the moment he first saw him, walking through Wolfram Manor’s garden, Tholm wore several plain-looking rings that concealed his true power and emotions.

Watching him remove them, one by one, was baffling. Then the full extent of his power hit, and Nick understood why he wanted to have this conversation in his study, behind strong wards, instead of out in the open floor.

Nick was no stranger to being outmatched. It had been an almost constant state for most of his time in this world, and even now, after reaching the frankly absurd milestone of level sixty within a year of getting his class, he was more often faced with those who could easily overpower him than not.

Changer, whom he had just finished fighting, had more mana than he did, despite not being a mage. In fact, the thunderhoof matriarchs had more mana than he did when he was hunting them!

The glimpses he’d gotten into Martas’ and Ogden’s true reserves were enough to show him that a completely different world existed out there, one inhabited by people who alone possessed more mana than could be found in the wilds of the entire planet Earth.

But Tholm? Tholm was an artificer, a powerful Archmage, no doubt, but still someone whose focus was more on skill than raw output.

Well, what he felt then—the immense sea of power just waiting to be used that dwelled within the unassuming old man he’d been learning from for the past weeks—put all those ideas to rest.

Without a direct comparison, he couldn’t exactly place him on a scale, but he could at least estimate, and he had no hesitation in ranking him closer to the two absolute monsters—Marthas and Ogden—than to a regular Prestige class.

Maybe a bit lower in sheer amount, but once you pass a certain point, it becomes more about what someone can do with that much power rather than just raw output. And Tholm, as an artificer, has many, many options.

It took Nick several moments to overcome the initial awe of being in the presence of that much mana before he could finally filter out the excess noise and sense the man’s imprint in the ether for the first time.

As expected, the shadow he cast was quite large, even visible against the Tower’s seemingly endless beacon. But while that in itself was intriguing, and Nick was sure he’d spend hours pondering its subtleties later, what interested him more at the moment were the emotional shades coloring it.

Surprisingly, there was little regret in his signature, but he felt some sadness alongside amusement, a controlled kind of pride he recognized as coming from the reaction he was likely displaying, and some eagerness to get on with it.

That was enough to snap him back to reality, and he blinked, only then realizing he had been staring in wide-eyed shock for quite some time.

“Done?” Tholm asked, and the ripple of amusement grew before subsiding once more.

Suddenly being able to sense everything his mentor was feeling was a very novel experience, and Nick doubted he’d get another chance at it, so he nodded absentmindedly, still trying to remember everything for later review.

“Almost, but I guess we should move on.”

Tholm inclined his head. “As you might imagine, I don’t often bare my soul for others to see. There aren’t many who are so skilled at discerning the colors of the ether as you are, despite your relatively low power, but showing one’s presence openly is never wise, especially after achieving Prestige. We tend to affect our surroundings, and it’s considered polite to avoid doing that in a place as crowded as the Tower.”

“Something like a divine domain?” Nick asked, intrigued, before shaking his head. “No, that’s not important right now. I want to know what is actually going on, and why you had to send me into what anyone could tell you should have been a deadly trap.”

A moment of silence passed as Tholm regarded him with curiosity and the kind of amusement one felt toward a small animal performing a trick well, before he finally decided to respond. “Believe it or not, I didn’t actually mean for you to go all the way to the ritual chamber, and I definitely hadn't planned for you to fight Mr. Herthoux, much less beat him. I sent you to deal with the thorn in the investigators’ side—that is, the failed apprentices you easily handled—and I hoped you might be able to shake them down for some information leading to a hidden base, or at least more clues about who might have it.”

The words coming out of his mouth sounded pretty reasonable, which was exactly why Nick would have normally dismissed them as a bold-faced lie. However, having access to the man’s soul allowed him to see how truthful he was being.

That didn’t make him feel any better, but at least he knew the manipulation was limited in scope.

“When I saw you enter the basement I didn’t even know about, I hoped you’d find a few clues to guide the Duke’s men in exchange for them freeing your brother, and then come out. I didn’t expect you to go straight for the source of all your troubles, let alone deal with it so decisively.”

“Why did you not intervene then?” Nick interrupted. It was becoming clear that Tholm had a way to monitor him from a distance without triggering [Blasphemy], but that could be done in countless ways for an artificer of his skill.

Something similar to the owl figurine he used to see alone would suffice, and he definitely knew how to craft one subtle enough to go unnoticed in such chaotic conditions.

“That is the heart of the matter, isn’t it?” Tholm sighed. “Why would I send my teenage apprentice out to handle such critical issues? The answer to that, I’m afraid, is as complicated as it is unsatisfactory, but it remains the truth. Just as the Duke’s men couldn’t go directly to interrogate the apprentices at the docks, despite knowing they had valuable information, I couldn’t intervene directly in your fight.”

“Are you saying,” Nick enunciated, feeling incredulous, “that the organization behind the plot to attack the auction has enough power to make it better for you to send out apprentices to handle it as a mortal matter rather than directly intervening and risking their wrath?”

“It’s not that simple, but yes, that’s roughly how things stand. The Circle of Pure Souls isn’t a public organization, and the few who know about it don’t particularly like them, but they play a vital role in keeping the temples in check, acting as the counterbalance to their influence, just like Towers do for nobles.”

“What does that mean for Alluria, though? And for me, since I killed one of their operatives,” Nick finally asked, too exhausted to list all the ways that made him angry. Especially because it felt uncomfortably similar to Ogden’s argument for not handling Rhea’s revenge himself, just on a bigger scale.

“Hmm,” Tholm murmured, stroking his beard. “I expect they will try to retaliate. They should know better than to attack within Alluria for now, but it would be wise for you to gain a few more levels before venturing out. Once this situation is resolved and I have more time, I plan to take all you apprentices on a small adventure.”