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Chapter 239: Ascension (3)

Backstage.

As the Yellow Tower's demonstration concluded, the roaring applause that followed seemed endless.

Elder Schwein, secretly peeking out at the crowd's reaction, gulped nervously.

‘As expected of the Yellow Tower… I didn’t think they’d be this well prepared…’

It was nothing short of fitting to call it the next-generation stage.

It was as if they were proclaiming to the world that, while everyone may now benefit from magi-tech, the true masters of it were still them.

‘They ended the presentation with nothing but pre-recorded footage…’

Naturally, Schwein had never seen such a bold presentation before.

What excited the audience wasn’t just the train itself, but the polished, stylish way it was presented.

At the same time, Schwein’s expression darkened.

‘Maybe I’ve been too complacent…’

He had simply thought that completing the airship and unveiling it would be enough.

But after watching the Yellow Tower’s performance, a wave of fear swept over him.

All he had prepared was a single airship—nothing more.

‘Of course, the significance of the airship is enormous, but still…’

At the White Night Festival, the atmosphere on-site is also critical.

Schwein began to doubt whether he could overturn the kind of excitement that had just been stirred up.

Sensing his unease, Oscar spoke up.

“Are you really that nervous?”

“Of course I am. In fact, I should be asking you—why aren’t you?”

“Oh, I just have a strong heart.”

Oscar shrugged, looking unbothered.

“Sure, their stage was sleek. Gotta admit—it was a bit shocking.”

“It was likely the work of Tony Havertz, the Tower Master’s apprentice and head of the magi-tech department. He’s long been hailed as a marketing genius, known for creating groundbreaking presentations.”

Tony Havertz…

That mage he had run into with Kudel in the artificial island corridor.

“A marketing genius, huh? He definitely lives up to the title. I guess tech like that will only evolve from here.”

“Rumor has it that theater and education sectors are already racing to adopt similar video techniques.”

Theater and education, huh…

That would mean, in the near future, people might watch plays or attend lessons through these projections.

Imagining that future, Oscar was genuinely impressed.

“The Yellow Tower really did change the times. Stuff like this was unimaginable when I was a kid.”

“…You had access to magi-tech even when you were young, though?”

“Oh, right.”

Oscar chuckled awkwardly, then changed the subject.

“Anyway, my point is, we shouldn’t be intimidated by stuff like that.”

“How can I not be? This presentation… everything rides on it.”

His emotions rising slightly, Schwein clenched both fists tightly.

If they failed to deliver at this stage, the White Tower could be expelled from the Four Great Towers.

Oscar looked at him and smiled.

“You’ve built an airship, something unbelievable—and you’re still worried?”

“Of course I am. It’s not just us—the Yellow and Black Towers also unveiled something incredible.”

The Black Tower showcased a machine golem equipped with AI, capable of learning and defeating mages on its own.

The Yellow Tower, through the use of video, seemed years ahead of the others in presentation and technology.

In contrast, all the White Tower had prepared was one airship.

Schwein’s shoulders slumped.

“Sure, if we go by the sheer impact of the technology, ours might lead… but in terms of presentation, the gap is undeniable.”

As his worries continued, Oscar spoke up.

“Then let’s do it too.”

“…Do what, exactly?”

“Stage direction. We’ve got magic—we can figure something out, right?”

Hearing Oscar’s naive suggestion, Schwein let out a bitter chuckle.

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be this anxious.”

The White Night Festival’s rules for magical presentations are stricter than they appear.

Over the past 19 events, there have been all sorts of ambitious attempts.

Schwein listed some prime examples.

“Do you know why only up to three mages are allowed on stage at once? That’s because, during the 2nd Festival, the Red Tower flooded the stage with over a hundred mages casting flashy spells to steal the spotlight.”

“Sounds like something those firepower-obsessed Red Tower folks would do.”

“Then during the 3rd Festival, a 7th-level mage from the Blue Tower put on a major show. Since then, mages ranked 7th level or higher are banned from using magic on stage.”

“Hmm.”

That meant Elder Schwein, a 7th-level mage himself, was prohibited from casting onstage.

The rules were tighter than expected.

“Is there a rulebook somewhere?”

“Should be over there.”

Oscar returned after briefly flipping through the rulebook in the corner and asked,

“Elder, just to clarify—everything not explicitly prohibited in this rulebook is allowed, right?”

“…Well, yes.”

No sooner had Schwein reluctantly nodded than—thud!

Oscar slammed the rulebook shut with a grin.

“Then it’s settled. Leave the presentation to me.”

“You mean you’ll do it?”

“Yeah. First of all…”

Turning his head, Oscar gazed at the massive airship still hidden beneath a tent.

He murmured to himself,

“I’ll get rid of that thing first.”

* * *

As the applause died down, the Emperor posed a question himself.

“I’ve already had a chance to ride the train during its trial run, so I know well how useful it is. But there’s one drawback, isn’t there? Have you resolved it?”

The train’s one critical weakness—

As the Emperor pointed it out, Tony Havertz responded.

“Your Majesty must be referring to the rails.”

“Yes. Trains, after all, can only run on tracks that have been laid in advance. Isn’t that right?”

“You're correct. As you said, that's still an unresolved issue.”

“Then we would have to lay tracks across the entire continent. What about the enormous costs involved?”

“We intend to cover those through shared contributions for public infrastructure.”

Ludwig's eyes narrowed.

The words sounded plausible enough, but in essence, it meant they'd be collecting money from someone.

“Go on.”

“Yes, first, we plan to install stations—train stations—near territories that contribute to the fund. From the territory's perspective, hosting a station would be highly beneficial.”

“What kind of benefit would that be?”

“Hmm, ahem.”

Clearing his throat, Tony Havertz spoke in a firm yet persuasive voice.

“First, any territory with a train station will naturally become a transportation and logistics hub for the surrounding region. People and goods will gather, commercial zones will form naturally, and the territory can expect increased tax revenue and influence.”

“Second, having a train station means possessing a faster and more reliable supply network than any other city. In emergencies, troop deployment and urgent supply transport would offer significant advantages.”

Economic revitalization, and a fast, stable supply line.

For a one-time payment, the benefits were more than worth it.

Still, the Emperor made sure to confirm:

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“This contribution—do you pay it just once?”

“Of course. A single payment entitles them to all those benefits permanently.”

“Hm.”

Ludwig briefly closed his eyes.

As expected in the imperial court’s internal meetings, the plan adopted a structure where responsibilities were dispersed among the territories and cities.

‘But…’

It didn’t feel like they were simply shifting their burden onto others—it resembled mutual benefit, even cooperation.

And the reactions from high-ranking nobles seated in the guest section weren’t all that negative.

“We’ll need to run the numbers once we return to our territories, but the framework itself seems sound.”

“I agree. Especially the idea of attaching a new economic 'lung' to stagnant areas—that's quite attractive.”

“And if the contribution really is a one-time deal... then all that’s left is to negotiate the price.”

With the nobles reacting like that, there was no reason for the Emperor to oppose it.

The commercialization of trains would ultimately contribute to the Empire’s growth.

If there was one thing bothering him…

From magitech to trains—

The Yellow Tower's explosive progress was soaring unchecked.

For now, the imperial family had a firm grip on their leash, but there was no guarantee that would still be true in 10 or 20 years.

‘It would be nice if a balancing power emerged…’

But the various magic towers all specialized in different fields, so relying on them wasn’t realistic.

With a lingering sense of unease, the Emperor slowly nodded.

“I look forward to the day the Yellow Tower’s iron horses run across the continent.”

“You won’t be disappointed, Your Majesty.”

Tony Havertz offered a confident smile.

* * *

“…….”

“…….”

The mood among the White Tower mages had deflated like dried fish.

The one-two punch from the Black and Yellow Towers had simply been too strong.

So strong, in fact, that even always-positive Fran couldn't hide her expression.

“This is insane. We’re up next after that?”

“Ugh, why did we have to be last…”

By now, no one even remembered how the earlier towers performed.

That might’ve actually been a good thing.

If people forgot you, at least they wouldn’t compare you to the others.

“So this is what they mean by ‘better to get it over with early,’ huh?”

“If only the Black and Yellow Tower’s order had been reversed…”

Sure, the Black Tower’s next-gen golems were the more advanced tech.

But the Yellow Tower's overwhelming stage presentation had completely overshadowed even that.

Nervously crossing her arms and bouncing a leg, Veronica asked:

“Hey, do they even score stage production? Isn’t this supposed to be about the tech?”

“Well, it is a festival. The citizens’ votes have a fair bit of weight, too.”

In other words, it was advantageous to nail both tech and presentation.

Just then, something floated gently through the air and landed squarely in Veronica’s ponytail.

“...What the heck?”

“Let me see that.”

Fran reached over and plucked out the paper airplane stuck in her hair.

She unfolded it to reveal something scrawled inside.

[Congrats on being kicked out of the Four Great Towers. Keep your eyes down from now on.]

“Who the hell—!”

Veronica shot up, furious, but of course there was no way to know who had thrown it.

Fuming, she sat back down and muttered.

“It’s definitely that jerk from the Red Tower we bumped into earlier. I’m beating him up after this.”

“There’s no proof he did it, though.”

Fran spoke quietly, crumpling the paper with a gloomy expression.

“And... well, it does kinda look bad for us right now.”

“Hey, you never know. Elder Schwein might’ve prepared something amazing…”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t count on it.”

A light sigh and voice drifted from the back row.

They turned their heads and saw Berdi Nakwind, a 5th-level mage.

He opened his mouth and explained.

“...Elder Schwein isn’t bad at speaking, but he’s not exactly great either. He gets really nervous during public events.”

In short, he wasn’t suited for presentations like this—

Especially not after a spectacle like the last one.

Everyone looked visibly gloomier at those words.

Some even clasped their hands together, silently praying.

And at that moment—

All the lights went out, plunging the hall into darkness.

With every sense heightened, a voice rang out.

“Humanity, over thousands of years, has claimed 38% of the land and 62% of the seas on this world. But throughout that long history, there remains one domain we’ve yet to conquer—not even 1% of it.”

The voice was soothing, almost hypnotic.

The kind of voice that made you want to keep listening.

“And now, we invite you to that very place.”

The enchanting voice faded, replaced by a warm breeze.

A sky beyond borders layered itself atop the exhibition hall.

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