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Chapter 273: Dark Stalker (1)

“…Who did you just say?”

The Black Tower Master, Janko Drax, asked again with a horrified expression.

He sincerely hoped that his ears had deceived him, but Kiri Gloria crushed that hope.

“Banavel Morit. It has been revealed that she colluded with the demons to abduct and kill Black Tower mages.”

“……”

He could confidently say that this report ranked among the top three worst things he had ever heard in his life.

A Black Tower elder colluding with demons to kidnap and murder Black Tower mages?

Even he felt dizzy just hearing it—how would others react?

The image the Black Tower had built up until now could vanish in an instant.

“Kiri, did you see this with your own eyes?”

“No, I didn’t.”

Kiri then turned slightly to glance behind her, toward Oscar Crucian.

“For this investigation, we invited mages from the White Tower. They and some outside mercenaries testified to having seen Elder Banavel.”

Oscar Crucian.

If you were an active mage—especially one from the Black Tower—it was impossible not to know that name.

“Well then, Oscar Crucian. Is what Kiri said true?”

“It is.”

“…And why are you so sure it was Banavel?”

“Her appearance, for one. But more importantly—she used her signature spell, the Black Hand.”

“Anything else?”

“She showed a deep hatred for the Imperial family. Claimed they had taken from her what was most precious.”

Janko shut his eyes.

There was no doubt—it was Banavel Morit.

If so, the only option now was to quietly clean things up.

“First, let me thank you and your group for your help. And I apologize for dragging outsiders into our family business.”

“Think nothing of it.”

“Of course, the Black Tower will compensate you. But I have one request…”

“We’ll keep it a secret.”

Oscar’s words startled not only Janko but even Kiri.

From the White Tower’s perspective, the Black Tower’s downfall would only benefit them.

Janko couldn’t help but ask:

“I know it’s strange for me to ask this, but… could you tell me why?”

“……”

Why?

He didn’t really need to explain.

He hated demons.

What they stole so casually were other people’s lives, their hopes.

And all they left behind was pain and grief.

Naturally, he also despised those who joined hands with demons.

He had no intention of protecting traitors who abandoned their morals out of fear.

‘But…’

Banavel Morit was a little different.

At the very least, her reason for betraying wasn’t incomprehensible.

When she realized that the reward at the end of her noble devotion was not sweetness but betrayal…

It wasn’t hard to imagine the fury and bitterness she must have felt.

‘Of course, I think her way of handling it was wrong. But not everyone sees things the way I do.’

Perhaps he was the only one who could truly understand why she had turned.

Once, they had fought on the same battlefield, for the same cause.

Not close enough to call friends, but they had shared words in passing.

‘Unlike her husband, who became a high knight early, she became a high mage later in life.’

He still clearly remembered how she slathered on cosmetics every day, disliking how her aging face made her look older than her husband.

He also remembered her grief when her husband died in the war, and how her hatred for demons flared then.

It had reminded him of himself when he had lost his teacher.

That was why he disliked seeing her shining achievements fade away into nothing.

‘If I had to put a name to it…’

Pity.

Oscar smiled faintly and replied:

“Well… it’s nothing grand. Just professionals helping each other out.”

That way, at least, life in this harsh world could feel a little more human.

Janko didn’t quite understand, but he nodded anyway.

“…If you’re willing to do that, I’m grateful. Do you have any request in return?”

“Actually, yes. Just one.”

Of course.

Janko almost looked relieved.

A favor was easier to process if it came in the form of a deal.

“I have trouble sleeping at night. But the protective talisman Kiri Gloria gave me last time was really helpful. I’d like some more of those.”

“…That’s all you want?”

“Yes.”

Janko stared at him as if to see through his words, then stood.

“Very well. Consider the Black Tower indebted to you.”

It was easier to frame it that way. To have a safeguard, rather than leaving things to trust alone.

Oscar nodded.

“Understood.”

“I’ll get you the talisman right away. Kiri, in the meantime, check the movements of the radicals.”

“Yes, Tower Master.”

After Kiri left, Janko led Oscar to the Black Tower’s treasury.

As he sorted through protective charms, he spoke.

“She… did she pass peacefully?”

“Honestly, I can’t say for sure.”

Oscar briefly summarized the battle.

She hadn’t mastered space magic, so she must have been caught in the collapsing rift and died.

But he hadn’t witnessed it directly.

Janko gave a bitter smile.

“Perhaps that’s for the best. A terrible end wouldn’t have been a comfort.”

“…I heard she was the leader of the radicals. Shouldn’t you be glad?”

“Perhaps. But my view of the radicals hasn’t changed. Their methods and ideology are too far removed from our times.”

He paused, pulling out a suitable talisman.

“But Banavel Morit was once a mage I respected. Even as I tried to cut away the radicals’ influence, I left her elder seat intact. That’s why.”

“Her achievements alone deserved respect.”

“Indeed.”

For a moment, Janko fell silent in reminiscence.

“The abolition of necromancy was inevitable, sooner or later.”

“Without mastering Undead Rage completely, there was no choice.”

“…You know a lot about us.”

Janko looked at him with mild surprise, then nodded.

“You’re right. For centuries, Black Tower mages, working with corpses and the souls of the dead, have naturally been exposed to what we call ghostly energy—or death aura. Over time, it builds up, and that’s what causes the side effect we call Undead Rage.”

It made mages violent, aggressive, cruel.

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Crimes weren’t unique to Black Tower mages, but when they did occur, the media seized upon them.

The brutality of the crimes shocked society every time.

“Of course, necromancy has its overwhelming advantages. The growth rate is unmatched, and once a mage reaches Level 7—Master level—they can fully control that energy and be freed from the side effects. But… not everyone can climb that peak.”

So, a Black Mage who never reached Level 7 was a ticking time bomb.

Naturally, they became feared and shunned.

“His Majesty simply chose to end it after the war. With Silgrim Fonerth as justification, he wielded the sword that should have been unsheathed long ago.”

As with everything in the world—when someone laughs, someone else cries.

This was no different.

“Ah, that one will do.”

Janko approached a glass case and took out a talisman.

Unlike the one Kiri had given before, this one brimmed with stronger magic.

“This is Silent Night, an artifact crafted by the 11th Tower Master, famous for his talismans.”

Like its name, Silent Night glowed softly as though it were melted night.

Though small, it felt heavy in his hand—solid, reassuring.

“This is a Black Tower treasure. Are you sure you can give it to an outsider?”

“Not give—lend. Once you die, it must be returned.”

“And I won’t be hunted down by the Black Tower for this, will I…?”

“…What do you take us for?”

Janko looked genuinely exasperated.

Oscar coughed awkwardly.

“My apologies. I’ll make good use of it.”

“As you like.”

At last, Janko seemed more at ease.

“Thank you, truly. This debt will be repaid.”

“I hope it all ends without too much loss.”

With Banavel Morit gone, the radicals inside the Black Tower would soon erupt in chaos.

But just as the ground hardens after rain, the Tower would emerge stronger.

Janko nodded at Oscar’s words.

“I hope so too. I’d like to offer you some days of rest, but I don’t think that’s wise. Best to leave in the morning.”

“Understood.”

It wasn’t dismissal but consideration.

If they stayed longer, they might become targets of the radicals, making things worse for everyone.

Oscar bowed and left.

‘A Black Tower moving on from its past…’

He didn’t know what shape it would take, but it would surely be stronger than before.

Oscar smiled faintly.

‘I may have just strengthened my rivals instead…’

If Sasha or Lloyd heard, they’d scold him for unnecessary meddling.

But it didn’t matter.

For now, he felt lighter than ever.

* * *

“Ah, ow, ow. I’m hurt!”

“Stop whining.”

“How can you call it whining when I nearly died? Really hurts my feelings!”

Veronica and Fran bickered in their usual way, while the four of them appeared through a portal into a white marble alleyway.

“Even the back streets are this clean. Amazing.”

“Because this place exists solely for the goddess El Tera.”

Their destination: the Great Temple.

And it lay within the Lumina State, an independent country inside the Empire.

Though calling it a country was generous—it was more like a small city.

Its population barely numbered 1,200.

“So, does that mean the Pope and the Saintess live here too?”

“Unless they have special business outside, yes.”

Soon, they reached a vast, holy staircase.

Called the Steps of Purification, legend said that each step one climbed washed away a sin.

“Then what if a criminal went up and down hundreds of times a day?”

“…It’s just a legend. It doesn’t really erase sins.”

“So it doesn’t work? Then what’s the point.”

Killian quickly lost interest.

Meanwhile, Veronica and Fran still argued about whether he was whining.

Oscar, feeling like a kindergarten teacher, finally reached the temple entrance.

“Excuse me. What brings you here, brothers and sisters?”

“Ah, there should be a reservation under the name Oscar Crucian…”

Just then—

“You pathetic boy. Come out at once.”

An old man with a familiar face strode out of the temple, hands clasped behind his back, looking displeased.

Behind him followed a young knight with dark circles under his eyes, head bowed.

“…The Heavenly Sword?”

The former Swordmaster of the Heavenly Sword Clan—Cheon Mujin.

The priest at the door, seeing him disappear from sight, whispered cautiously,

“Do you know the Heavenly Sword?”

“A little.”

“I see. But today… it might be best not to greet him.”

“Why?”

“His mood is… not good. I can’t say more—it’s classified.”

What could that mean?

It wasn’t hard to guess what business brought one to the temple.

Oscar turned his gaze to the young man following.

“And who is that?”

“The young Swordmaster of the Heavenly Sword Clan—Cheon Mujin’s grandson.”

The Swordmaster’s grandson.

Even with just a glance, Oscar could tell he was a Level 7 high knight.

Young in years, yet proof that bloodlines could not be denied.

“Ah, your reservation is confirmed. Please, come inside.”

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