A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 27

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 27. Outer (3)

Bridget dragged her chair back with a harsh scrape and sat down.
“Unless it was unintentional—this is absolutely outrageous.”
Crunch.
The ordinarily gentle Bridget clenched her fists, visibly furious.
“I knew it! There had to be a reason why he insisted on taking charge himself! I sensed something was off, but to think he’d stoop to something so dirty, so petty, so cowardly—”
“…….”
Truth be told, Dezir hadn’t anticipated this either. He’d never imagined a tenured professor would show such blatant favoritism.
‘Is it because I defeated his party? Because I beat the Blue Moon Party?’
The mad pig professor’s motives didn’t matter.
What mattered was the present situation.
The application period had already closed.
Any protest would be futile.
“I’ll find some way to sort this out. For now, please rest.”
At Bridget’s words, Dezir nodded and closed the door behind him as he left.
Dezir made his way to the office.
He harbored no real hope that Bridget could resolve the situation. There was no magic solution she possessed that would work around this.
‘Besides, the Magic Tower is strict about its time regulations.’
Pugman knew this perfectly well, which is precisely why he’d pulled such an absurd stunt.
Dezir felt a rare flicker of heat kindling inside him.
‘……So that’s how he wants to play it. Dirty.’
A transparently cowardly move.
‘Then I’ll move my own way.’
Dezir pulled out the paper from his pocket.
The very sheet on which he’d written down the incidents.
His eyes, scanning quickly, came to rest on a single point.

Event 3. Mage Tower Eureli Branch Attack, July 7th

A thin smile spread across his face.
A smile bloomed at the corners of Dezir’s lips.
‘I’ll match his pettiness, then.’
That was the decision Dezir had made.

* * *

Though it was summer, the night air was bitterly cold.
A distinguished gentleman with an impressive mustache walked through the mist-shrouded street.
He was exceptionally tall, and his sturdy frame looked remarkably solid.
His name was Kraiken.
Kraiken’s gaze fell upon a boy rushing toward him, a bag stuffed full of rye bread cradled in his arms.
The boy’s shabby appearance spoke volumes of his circumstances, and the hard rye bread he clutched was clearly precious nourishment meant for his family.
Kraiken stepped aside, but the boy hurtling toward him still collided with his shoulder.
The bread bag flew into the air.
But something strange occurred. The bag hung suspended in the air as if caught by invisible hands.
Kraiken caught the bread bag floating in midair, then looked down at the boy who had fallen before him.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Not at all. Are you hurt?”
Kraiken extended a gentle hand to the boy.
As the boy grasped it and rose, Kraiken brushed away the soot smudged across the child’s face.
“Where are you headed?”
“Home.”
“With the bread bag?”
“It’s for my younger sibling. They can’t leave the house.”
His suspicion seemed to have been correct.
Kraiken clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
“Don’t wander about at such a late hour. Your sister will worry.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
The boy stared fixedly at the bread bag Kraiken held. When the man shifted it, the child’s eyes followed the movement.
Kraiken smiled enigmatically.
“Right, I should return this.”
“Thank you.”
Kraiken extended the bread bag toward the boy.
The moment the boy’s outstretched hand touched the bag’s surface, Kraiken suddenly flipped it upside down.
“… Sir?”
The bread tumbled to the ground. Four loaves spilled from the bag.
Without hesitation, Kraiken stepped forward.
Crunch.
The bread crumbled pitifully underfoot. The loaves flattened, dust clung to them, and they became utterly inedible.
Kraiken shrugged at the boy.
“Oops, my mistake.”
A smirk played across his lips as he passed the dumbfounded child. He felt elated. Things were going well, he thought—the work ahead would unfold smoothly.
Before undertaking any serious business, he always enjoyed such light amusements.
Moonlight dimmed and darkness deepened. The streetlamps along the road flickered on and off in rhythm. Shadows blurred. When he passed the third corner, not a single streetlamp burned in the vicinity.
Darkness.
Walking the empty street, he stopped. Before him stood an enormous iron gate.
A nameplate bearing the words “Mage Tower Eureli Branch” gleamed in the moonlight, rendered in magnificent script.
He then removed his bowler hat, revealing the mask he wore beneath—a shark-like mask with a prominent horn thrust forward like a blade.
“Assemble.”
Shadows shifted. Behind him stood eighty figures. All wore skull masks and tattered black cloaks, their camouflage so perfect they were nearly indistinguishable from the darkness itself.
Spells of varied kinds unfolded.
As the casting finished, dozens of magical strikes erupted against the gate.
Whooom!
A powerful defensive ward activated, nullifying every spell that flew toward it.
So this was the strength of the Mage Tower after all.
At that moment, Kraiken gestured, and his hulking subordinates surged forward.
As they pounded the gate, that supposedly impregnable barrier began to crack with astounding ease.
“Keep pouring magic in. We can’t let it shift to physical resistance.”
Thud! Boom!
The weakness of an Enchant lay in the unidirectional flow of mana.
The Enchant technique that drew mana from Mana Stones amplified the power of magic, but it channeled that mana in only one direction. Consequently, even a device inscribed with multiple magical formulas could not activate several spells simultaneously.
Therefore, only one defensive spell could be deployed at a time.
In other words, the gate could not block both magical and physical assault at once.
Crack, crackle.
At last.
Crash-!
With a deafening roar, the main gate of the Mage Tower was torn from its hinges.
Waaaaah!
A piercing alarm wailed through the halls.
The intruders poured into the Mage Tower without resistance.
“Intruders!”
“Stop them!”
Security personnel and mages within the tower mobilized with precision. Guards readied their defensive equipment while mages prepared offensive spells.
Kraiken sensed something odd in their swift response, but it changed nothing. He gave his subordinates the signal to charge.
“Aaahhhhh!”
Battle erupted between the tower’s mages and the invaders.
The clash of weapons, shouts, mages chanting incantations, and explosions filled the air.
Through the chaos, Kraiken slipped away from the battlefield. Six of his subordinates moved to follow him.

Invisible.
A high-difficulty spell that bent light and erased them from sight.
They moved swiftly past the raging battle, their pace quickening.
“They’ve really come!”
“Hurry—downstairs, now!”
The tower’s reinforcements continued descending toward the lower floors where combat was raging.
Kraiken and his men stepped aside. Watching their retreating figures head down the stairs, he allowed himself a thin smile.
So far, everything had unfolded exactly as he’d planned.
The Mage Tower’s main force had rushed downstairs in panic. He could picture them scrambling to respond to the sudden assault.
‘Their response was oddly swift, I’ll grant them that……’
A minor flaw. Perhaps he’d underestimated the Tower’s capabilities.
Either way, his strategy had succeeded.
Eighty soldiers—all of them a distraction. With the Tower’s main force drawn below, he climbed the stairs at his leisure.

The pinnacle of the Mage Tower. The twentieth floor.
Unlike the grand expanses of the lower levels, the top floor was modest in scale.
As they reached the highest point, a vault came into view.
Kraiken approached it slowly. At the same moment, magical formations arrayed themselves before him.

Earth Rage.

The layered protective barriers shielding the vault crumbled away along with its door.
A low hum resonated through the air.
At the heart of the now-exposed vault, a treasure of the ages gleamed with brilliant light.
A second-rank Mana Stone—known commonly as Lugnel’s Tears.
Its luminous blue radiance tickled his palm. The stone’s vast reserve of mana pulsed like a living heart.
He was reaching for it, seized by an intoxicating euphoria, when—
“That’s far enough.”
A young voice, still tender with youth.
Kraiken spun around.
It was a strikingly beautiful youth—or perhaps a young woman; the distinction was genuinely difficult to make out, so ethereal was their beauty.
“Surrender, Outer member.”
This was genuinely unexpected.
“That’s surprising. You kept reserve forces hidden away?”
Kraiken’s voice wavered slightly.
“We knew you were coming. We also knew your objective.”
Fram Schneizer leveled a blade at him as he spoke.
“I’m arresting you. I’d advise you to surrender peacefully.”
“I refuse.”
At Kraiken’s signal, his subordinates swiftly arrayed themselves before him.

Wave of Flame.

Fram watched the spells unfold in his direction without flinching, calmly assessing the opposing force during their casting time.
The party consisted of four mages and two swordsmen. From the level of the unfolding spells, the mages were second-Circle rank, and from their defensive reactions, the swordsmen were at best Pawn-rank.

Fire Ball.
Ice Spear.

The first two completed spells shot forward.
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Fram swung his blade. The spells that struck it dissolved into fragments of mana.
“It severed the magic?”
“It’s an Anti-magic Sword! Be careful!”
Fram had identified the mages as the priority targets. He lunged toward them.
“Don’t let him close in!”
The swordsmen moved to block his path. Behind them, the mages began casting fresh spells.
The swordsmen protecting the mages while they cast was basic tactical doctrine.
But.
“……It won’t matter.”
That was only true if they could actually defend. The speed of a Knight-rank swordsman like Fram was something these men simply couldn’t match.
The gap between Pawn-rank and Knight-rank was as vast as that between a child and an adult.
“What—?”
The swordsmen lost sight of Fram in an instant. Before they could react, he’d already slipped past them and reached the mages’ formation.
A dull, sharp crack.
The first mage collapsed with anticlimactic ease. Their expressions turned grim.
As Fram moved toward the second Mage, it happened.

Entangle.

A second-Circle binding spell.
His legs froze as though shackled, refusing to obey.
Fram’s eyes widened.
‘Impossible. There was no one casting magic…’
But he simply hadn’t noticed—beyond the reach of his sight, a Mage stood waiting.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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