A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Chapter 69

Episode 69. Terrorism (1)

Chapter 15. Terrorism

“When you think about it, the recent movements of the Hebrion Empire have been rather troubling.”
The Western Kingdom Alliance’s denunciations of the Hebrion Empire were growing fiercer by the moment.
Judging by the escalating tension, it seemed war could break out at any instant.
All the other leaders present, save for Priscilla, Jord, and King Prillecha, had sided with King Divide’s claims. More than half were now openly hostile toward Hebrion.
For Dezir Armang, who had envisioned harmony between the Western Kingdom Alliance and the Hebrion Empire, there was nothing to do but frown.
Even with both hands clasped in unity right now, time was precious—and if they continued this way, only suspicion and division would ensue, repeating the history of old.
“I’m sorry you have to witness such an unseemly display, Dezir.”
Dezir, whose thoughts had wandered elsewhere, came back to himself at Priscilla’s words and turned to face her.
“There is nothing for you to apologize for, Priscilla.”
Priscilla smiled softly and asked, “Were you thinking of something else?”
“Ah, yes. Somehow my mind drifted…….”
“That’s wise. There’s no need to pay close attention to such useless chatter.”
In the end, the measures against the Outer Realm that Jord had proposed were shelved, and it was decided instead to press charges against the Hebrion Empire.
For Dezir, it was a disappointing decision, but there was nothing he could do about it now. His role was merely to listen to the proceedings.
Jord returned to his seat. The discussion of the Shadow World had concluded, and the agenda moved forward.
…….
Tap-tap.
Dezir rested his chin in his palm and tapped his fingers against the armrest of his chair.
‘Something feels wrong.’
He shifted his posture in his seat several times.
This was a different kind of unease—entirely separate from the matter concerning the Hebrion Empire that had just been decided. It was an instinctive warning of a vast threat.
“Until now we have made concessions, so beginning next year we shall establish tariffs on grain supplies at a somewhat higher rate…….”
“Grain is…… manufactured goods are…….”
The voices did not reach his ears properly, only ringing faintly.
Though Dezir knew he ought to listen carefully given the effort it had taken to attend, his attention kept wandering elsewhere. The persistent sense of dread was impossible to ignore.
It was a sensation he had not felt in recent times, yet in his previous life, Dezir had experienced it countless times.
On the battlefield.
But why should such a feeling arise now, of all moments?
‘I must be under far too much stress from the nightmares.’
Anxiety. Perhaps, because it was the place where she had died, his heart was unconsciously bearing the weight.
Such was Dezir’s thought when it happened.
Hum.
A very faint ringing. A sound as small as a drop of water falling into the sea reached his ears.
That was unmistakably the resonance of a spell being deployed.
“Tower Master.”
“What is it?”
“Is this castle outfitted with Defensive Magic against external attacks?”
“We have the highest level of Defensive Magic in place—capable of withstanding Bombardment Magic up to 5th Circle strength. But why do you ask so suddenly?”
The ability to defend against 5th Circle Magic represented the maximum level of Defensive Magic achievable in the present age.
Yet it was the maximum, not the absolute.
Crash!
Suddenly, an enormous tide of Mana rushed outward.
Both Jord and Dezir turned their gaze toward one side of the window.
“This can’t be……!”
Vast currents of Mana surged, and a spell was about to activate. There was no way to know when such a concentration of Mana had been gathered, or when the Spell Formula had been prepared.
Dezir attempted to sense the Spell Formula and employ Counter-Calculation, but the magic in question was a 6th Circle spell. Even for him, countering a 6th Circle spell would require considerable time.
However, the spell’s calculation had long since finished—only activation remained. In such a moment, only one person could offer hope.
“Tower Master!”
Understanding the gravity of the situation, magical Spell Formulas began to align before Jord. Under the control of the great mage, magic was arranged, constructed, and calculated in sequence.

As Spell Formulas began to take shape before Jord, those gathered in the Conference Hall grew restless. Someone called out to him in sharp rebuke.
“Master of the Magic Tower! What in the world are you doing in the Conference Hall!”
There was no time to answer each complaint. Dezir Armang’s voice tore through the air.
“Everyone down!”
Crack!
A deafening roar split the sky itself. The violent shock shattered every window in the Royal Palace in an instant.
The Royal Palace trembled as though struck by an earthquake. People lost their footing and tumbled across the ground in all directions.
The impact was far from over. Massive flames erupted, consuming the entire vast structure. The temperature inside climbed beyond measure—it felt like stepping into a furnace at full boil. The fire seemed intent on roasting everyone within the palace walls alive.
Bang! Crash! Crash!
As dozens of layers of Defensive Magic protecting the Royal Palace shattered, the residual Mana forming the Spell Formula began to rain down.
With each defensive layer destroyed, the heat grew fiercer. Breathing became harder by the moment, and sweat poured like rain. The inferno threatened to consume everything.
Those outside never even had time to scream before they turned to ash.
Just before the final Defensive Magic broke, Jord raised his Staff and shouted the incantation.

Will of Mahatma.

A 6th Circle ice spell.
Freeze!
From beneath Jord’s feet, extreme cold radiated outward. That frigid air cooled and solidified the atmosphere itself.
Extreme heat colliding with absolute cold.
The result—a sudden, violent expansion of the air. With a tremendous boom, a destructive blast swept through the chamber.
Moments later, Jord withdrew his magic. The flames that had threatened to consume the world were gone. But he had only contained them temporarily—a band-aid solution at best.
A deep rumbling echoed.
Tables and chairs began sliding to one side.
Beyond the shattered windows, the palace structure was half-destroyed, its iron frame exposed to view. Despite Jord’s magic, flames still burned in scattered places throughout the ruins.
Jord had been able to protect only the Conference Hall completely. He’d simply run out of time.
The Royal Palace began to collapse. Those who grasped this reality let out screams a moment too late.
“What in the name of—what happened!”
“It’s terrorism!”
“We have to evacuate!”
They had to flee this place before the palace came down. People rushed frantically toward the exits.
Dezir Armang swallowed hard. The spell that had obliterated countless Defensive Magic layers with a single blow, that had forced even a 7th Circle Mage like Jord to protect barely the Conference Hall itself—such power was beyond comprehension.
‘Eclipse…’
The spell that had bombarded the Royal Palace was a 6th Circle magic that incinerated an entire designated area.
Had its range been left unrestricted, it could have reduced a major city to ash in an instant. Instead, it had been compressed to the scale of the palace interior, destroying everything within.
Only those inside the Conference Hall had survived. Prillecha’s retainers, along with the guard forces of each nation, had all become ash and dust.
‘Why do ill omens always come true?’
In any case, they could not remain here.
Dezir Armang lifted Priscilla to her feet. The hem of her dress was torn to shreds, and her once-neat hair had become a complete disaster, hanging in wild tangles.
“We must leave before the palace collapses.”
“Let us hurry, then.”
Jord agreed and moved with purpose.
They were following the crowd toward safety when the space before them suddenly warped violently. Black particles coalesced, forming the shape of a man.
It was a man wearing a Raven Mask.
Dezir Armang instinctively sensed something ominous from him.
The Raven Mask turned his gaze toward the fleeing crowd and extended his hand toward them. A Spell Formula began to unfold.
Jord stepped forward to intercept.
Boom!
A shockwave rippled outward, and dust rose thick into the air.
Magical exchange.
Explosions erupted in rapid succession, dozens in a row. The shockwaves generated by high-Circle spells colliding were immense.
As he deployed his magic, Jord advanced toward the Raven Mask. Drawing close, he grabbed the man’s shoulder and attempted Space Transfer, hoping to move them both far from here to find better ground for battle.
Their bodies converted to particles and vanished—only to reappear barely ten meters away.
‘I was aiming for the Beach!’
The Raven Mask had resisted Jord’s spell.
No matter how much concentration Space Transfer demanded, for a 7th Circle Mage like Jord to have his Space Transfer resisted meant the Raven Mask possessed formidable power indeed.
Boom!
The battle between Jord and the Raven Mask accelerated the Royal Palace’s collapse. Walls crumbled, and dust billowed into the air.
Priscilla coughed and spoke.
“Damn it! Why is a 7th Circle Mage getting pushed back!”
Dezir answered the question.
“It’s because of us! We have to leave at once!”
He was right.
The Raven Mask deployed offensive magic without hesitation, but Jord kept weaving spells to neutralize the damage in every conceivable way.
As a result, though Jord’s magic completed faster and held superior power, his spells were being funneled entirely into defense.
‘Counter-Calculation is the only way.’
If he used Counter-Calculation—the technique that nullified spellcraft itself—he could render the mage before him completely helpless. Jord strained to decipher the Spell Formula the Raven Mask was constructing.
It was extraordinarily precise, encrypted to a sophisticated degree. The moment Jord grasped the rough shape and began decryption…….
“……!”
His own Spell Formula was penetrated instead. He had neglected his calculations, never expecting his magic to be subject to Counter-Calculation.

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