The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 56

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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 56
The masked assailant took a hit to his right shoulder and spat out a curse, then flung his dagger across with his left hand in a sharp arc.
Cecilia hadn’t even had time to dodge—such was the speed of his attack.
But then again, there was no need to.
Clang!
A sound erupted that was nothing like the scrape of blade against flesh—it was the ring of steel striking something far harder.
This was the nature of her Divine Power.
The Divine Power enveloping Cecilia’s body flared brighter.
“What—what is this!”
A shadow fell across the assassin’s back as the knight who had dispatched the other two enemies brought his sword down in a mighty arc.
The final attacker crumpled without even a cry.
But there was no time for relief. The knight himself had collapsed, having poured every last drop of his strength into that blow.
‘The commotion will draw others. There could be more assassins coming.’
Whether their target was the Imperial Princess or herself, Cecilia couldn’t say—but danger still pressed close.
‘I should try to flee with the Princess.’
The thought had barely formed before a figure emerged from the opposite side of the forest.
A man in a black robe, face hidden behind a mask, stepped into view.
He stood motionless as death itself, his gaze sweeping past the fallen knights, the assassin, and the Princess before finally settling on Cecilia.
‘He came for me.’
A sharp certainty struck through her like a blade.
This was no misreading. Behind the mask, his eyes gleamed with purpose—eyes that never wavered from her.
She had to prepare. Before he moved. Before he could strike. She had to find something—anything—that could kill him.
But her only weapon, the gun, was already spent.
Cecilia’s eyes darted frantically around her, searching for anything that might serve as a weapon.
Should she grab one of the scattered swords? She considered it for a moment, then abandoned the thought. She knew she couldn’t wield something so heavy.
Instead, she spotted the dagger that had been knocked away earlier. Without taking her eyes from the masked man, she edged forward step by careful step.
The moment her fingers closed around the dagger—
“Your Holiness!”
An urgent voice cut through the forest. She knew that voice.
“Miguel!”
Miguel and his knights came thundering toward her from behind.
The knights she’d sent westward had regrouped with them—their numbers had doubled.
“Are you hurt?”
“Is there any injury?”
Questions tumbled from the knights, thick with worry.
Cecilia dropped the dagger and looked them over quickly, her hands trembling slightly.
‘One, two, three… nine.’
Not a single one missing.
Only then did Cecilia draw a deep breath. Her knees nearly buckled with relief.
“You’re all well?”
“Yes, Your Holiness. The Holy Water and potions you provided were invaluable.”
Though their clothes were torn and soaked with blood, and wounds marked their bodies, none bore injuries severe enough to impair movement.
‘Thank the heavens.’
Yet even as Cecilia allowed herself this comfort, Miguel placed himself squarely before them all, muscles tensed and rigid.
He had been watching the masked figure all along, sensing the lethal skill radiating from him.
“Stand back.”
“Sir!”
Miguel launched forward at the assassin at almost the same instant the masked man conjured a semicircular barrier of crackling energy.
Crash!
Miguel’s blade struck the searing blue Defensive Magic and bounced back. That the barrier bore not even a hairline fracture was cause for genuine shock.
Yet the masked man was clearly wounded. Blood dripped steadily from his left arm, which he had raised to sustain the spell.
It would be enough to take him down.
Miguel made his judgment and brought his sword down again—but the wounded assassin twisted free and bolted into the forest.
“I’ll pursue him.”
Miguel’s face had hardened into a grim mask as he made his announcement.
The situation was dire, but learning who stood behind these attacks was worth the risk.
However—
“Ah!”
A cry of pain from the Imperial Princess halted Miguel in his tracks.
“Wait.”
Cecilia saw the reality hidden behind his greed. The fact that such an imposing man had retreated so easily was suspicious, and rushing after him blindly could lead straight into a trap. On top of that, there were wounded scattered about, and her knights were in poor condition themselves.
‘Abandoning pursuit here is the right call.’
She made the decision quickly, setting aside her disappointment.
“We need to tend to the wounded first. Miguel, and any knights capable of Healing—I’d appreciate your assistance with the Imperial Heir’s knights.”
Having delegated the cleanup, Cecilia approached the Imperial Heir directly. The Princess, drained of all color, was gasping for breath as though each one was a struggle, her hands clawing at her chest.
‘Did she take a poisoned arrow?’
Yet there were no visible wounds. It was possible an old affliction had surfaced.
“Cough, cough!”
The convulsing Princess finally coughed up blood.
“Oh!”
Cecilia, startled, instinctively caught the Princess. She was momentarily surprised by the weight—so much heavier than her skeletal frame suggested.
But something far stranger was happening.
The instant Cecilia’s hands touched the Princess, the Divine Power enveloping her own body began to pour into the Princess like water down a drain.
‘What is this?’
It seemed far too instinctive to be any Healing process Cecilia had ever witnessed.
It resembled consumption itself.
The inexplicable drain continued for some time before finally ceasing. As the light faded from Cecilia’s hands, the Princess’s breathing stabilized as if by magic.
Color returned to her cheeks, her brow relaxed, and consciousness—at last—returned with it.
The Princess’s eyelids fluttered, and her eyes opened. Upon regaining awareness, she found herself face to face with the saintess and immediately jerked upright.
Her eyes, still clouded with confusion, swept rapidly across the fallen knights, the intruders, and Cecilia’s group.
Having surveyed even the wrinkled hem of her own dress, what settled in her expression was nothing short of abysmal despair.
“……Before I collapsed, I saw you with a gun aimed at me. Did you save me?”
“…….”
“No—let me ask again. Did you treat me?”
The silence that followed was answer enough.
“……Then you saw everything.”
The Princess let out a hollow laugh and wiped her face roughly with the back of her hand.
Soon after, in a voice heavy with resignation, she began her confession.
“My condition is Mana Rejection Syndrome. In Rishatria—and especially in Belatice, the magic city—there’s nowhere without mana. So it’s known as incurable, but that’s not actually true. There is a way to manage it.”
“Surely you don’t mean……”
“Yes. As you just saw, if I receive regular infusions of highly pure Divine Power, I can live normally despite mana exposure.”
It sounded like a simple solution at first glance. But Cecilia immediately grasped the trap embedded in the Princess’s words.
The problem lay in that single phrase: “highly pure” Divine Power. It would require the Holy Power of a cleric at Cardinal rank—certainly no mere priest.
Someone destined to become Emperor harboring such a weakness?
The Empire would no longer maintain any balance of power between the Imperial House and the Temple. The Imperial House would likely become a puppet, its very existence mortgaged to the Temple.
It was, in short, a fatal flaw for an Emperor.
‘Besides, it has nothing to do with me.’
“I see. But why tell me of all people……”
Even if she had sensed such a monumental secret, she would have pretended ignorance. Why volunteer such information?
At her lukewarm question, the Princess wiped her bloodstained lips roughly with the back of her hand and laughed bitterly.
“Because it’s already over anyway. Truth is, it ended before it even began.”
“…….”
“With a body like this, they decide succession through a Hunting Tournament with no magic allowed. It’s as good as publicly declaring my healthy younger brother the Heir.”
Cecilia recalled something Miguel had said just before the tournament started.
[The game appears heavily weighted in one side’s favor.]
That one side had been the Prince, then.
Looking down at the dirt, the Princess seemed utterly exhausted and diminished.
Yet no sympathy stirred in Cecilia. If anything, irritation flared. At the danger, at this situation, at the self-pitying Princess before her.
“You’d be better served thinking than wallowing in useless self-recrimination.”
“……What?”
“If you’d truly wanted your brother as Heir, you’d have settled it with a word at the Banquet Hall.”
At words so arrogant, so bold as to be unthinkable when directed at an Emperor, the Princess’s eyes widened.
Cecilia held her forbidding stance regardless. She’d already had her life threatened—what else mattered?
And her opponent was the Princess herself—the Imperial House’s legitimate heir, possibly greatly culpable in this entire affair.
Cecilia’s tone grew colder still, her words sharper.
“Why go through the trouble of using a Hunting Tournament to say it? Perhaps you couldn’t decide and wanted to shift the burden onto your children. Or perhaps, deep down, you’re hoping someone exists who can overcome this wall—someone who can prove they’re that person.”
“……You.”
And yet, rather than blame, she offered conjecture like this because she wouldn’t show her weakness and despair to someone she should kill.
Or perhaps—just perhaps—she saw her own reflection in the Princess: a person trapped and flailing against an impossible, damnable problem with no solution in sight.
‘And while I’m at it, it’s better when someone holding leverage over a powerful person has power of their own.’
Cecilia rose from her seat and brushed the dirt from the hem of her clothes with quick, practiced motions.

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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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