The Nerd Next Door Turned Out To Be The Magic Tower Master - Chapter 63

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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 63
On the day he had infiltrated the Emperor’s bedchamber, his only demand was that the Saint not be harmed in any manner whatsoever.
True to his word, the Emperor had scrapped every unethical scheme he’d devised to consolidate imperial power through her.
Knowing this, he saw no reason to attack outright.
The man, having read the Emperor’s cunning intent with perfect clarity, narrowed his brow in irritation.
“It would be wise to first restrain the nobles beneath you who scheme in the name of the imperial house.”
“I too have no wish to lose loyal servants. Bear that in mind.”
The Emperor was well aware that no shortage of fools harbored the foolish notion of winning his favor by removing the Saint—or, to be precise, by eliminating her to serve the throne.
‘Suppressing them will breed resistance, certainly.’
But these were men who prized their own lives above all else; they would not cause serious trouble.
All except, paradoxically, the father of the woman standing before him—Duke Dilanshe.
The Emperor, his back against the chair, gazed upward at the Duke’s face with an unreadable expression.
For one who could discard pride itself as easily as yesterday’s refuse for the sake of her goal, even the arrogant Magic Tower Master and the Saint were now mere chess pieces.
“You’ve arrived at a fortuitous moment. I had something to discuss with you as well.”
Tap. Tap.
The Emperor drummed his long fingers against the table as he spoke.
“I intend to hold a Hunting Tournament. I have laid the groundwork; now it falls to you to honor your promise.”
Another reason she had been summoned to the Monastery.
Because if she came, then this madman would return to the Monastery as well.
A promise, after all, must be kept by both parties. And now it was his turn to honor the compact he had made with her.
…….
The man, who had been watching the Emperor with a chilling gaze, vanished without a word in response.
Yet the Emperor calmly picked up his documents again. He already knew that his secret was not his alone—that the other party held a weakness of equal weight.
* * *
Many epithets clung to Dilanshe: a Mage House, the Right Hand of the Throne, the sole Duke of his bloodline, and, more crudely, “mad dog.”
It was not an inaccurate comparison. Those who carried Dilanshe blood became obsessed with singular focus once they identified their Singular Obsession.
An abnormal, pathological fixation. Submission so complete it bordered on contempt. A fanatical loyalty that, if necessary, would discard flesh itself—nay, family and friends alike—as though they were worn-out rags.
What else would one call such a thing but a mad dog?
The misfortune was that the current Duke’s Singular Obsession was the imperial throne, and for its sake he would hesitate at nothing.
And the same was true of another Dilanshe—Kirien.
For Cecilia’s sake, he would willingly undertake any unethical act: blackmailing the Emperor his father served, or even directly threatening that father himself.
[Have you truly lost your mind? As if threatening His Majesty weren’t enough, you spent time in Weberdine of all places? That wretched Weberdine!]
[What’s the surprise? I’ve never been in my right mind to begin with.]
[……I was the fool for believing you had some larger plan. You will cease this at once. You’ve already brought the Saint to the Monastery; I will handle the rest myself.]
[I made it clear that you would be the one drawing attention.]
[……What?]
[If you do not wish to witness the imperial house—the one you revere so—crumble to dust, I suggest you abandon your recklessness.]
[Kirien Dilanshe!]
The Duke was stunned by the warning from the son he had believed, whatever their coldness toward each other, belonged within the same household.
The Duke, whose eyes were bloodshot with barely restrained fury, suddenly let out a hollow breath.
[Surely you don’t mean…… No, that cannot be…….]
He had just grasped the incomprehensible truth: that his son’s Singular Obsession was the Saint.
The Duke, who had regarded his son with the cold detachment one shows a stranger, finally turned away without uttering a single word of rebuttal.
He knew better than anyone what horrors a Dilanshe with eyes twisted by obsession could commit. Further argument was pointless.
Through that one-sided, coercive exchange, he believed he had made his intentions clear to the Duke.
But had he known then how much of a mad dog his father was, had he foreseen how thoroughly everything would spiral—he would not have merely threatened. He would have snapped his father’s neck instead. That was the regret that came too late.
In the cool forest where dead leaves crackled underfoot.
Kirien walked through the woods not as the victor of the Hunting Tournament, nor as the monstrous second son of Dilanshe, but as the Magic Tower Master.
Past the hunting grounds’ entrance, cluttered with tents and tables not yet cleared, he made his way south and soon encountered a desolate landscape.
Trees reduced to blackened stumps, earth cratered by violent explosions, grass and soil stained dark with blood.
The more he traced the remnants of the catastrophe, the more his face grew pale.
The urgency of what Cecilia had endured became viscerally real to him, and he felt himself verging on madness from helplessness and rage.
That day, she had escaped unharmed in the end—but might there have been a better option?
No matter how much he racked his considerable intellect, no answer came. Before the vast variable that was Cecilia, he always became a fool.
[Which region will you be entering?]
[The Southern Region. There aren’t many dangerous beasts there, I hear. Even if I’m eager, I don’t want to be a burden to the knights, so I thought I’d do my best in an area suited to my abilities.]
For him, to doubt Cecilia’s words was an impossible thing. So he had resolved to head south first and deal with any ‘organized group’ that might be lurking there.
But…….
[The Western Region’s terrain is the gentlest I’ve heard, with the clearest sightlines. I think it would be best to remain in the Western Region during the tournament.]
She had spoken of a direction entirely different from what she had told him. Was it merely a change of plans? Or…… was she testing whether he would follow her lie?
He had long since noticed that she was keeping her distance, suspicious of his true identity.
If that were the case, she would likely be drawn south, with a strong chance she’d head west.
As he stood lost in thought, Hiltein, clad in a Black Robe, approached him.
“Master Kirien, the Magic Restriction Formula is ready. Shall we activate it now?”
“Do it.”
Kirien, along with the Magic Tower’s subordinates, deployed the Magic Restriction Formula across a wide area, while simultaneously activating Detection Magic in secret.
With countless participants possessing Magical Power scattered throughout the forest, identifying his enemy proved far from simple.
Yet it wasn’t long before he sensed a familiar Magical Power from the west—and that distinctive, sickening presence unique to that organization.
He had been given two choices: to go south as Cecilia had suggested, or west as the knights had indicated.
When he turned, it was westward.
Regardless of which direction Cecilia chose, he intended to eliminate the threat first.
Kirien reached deep into the western forest ahead of Cecilia’s group, pressing through dense woods where even sunlight scarcely penetrated. He stood motionless, barely swallowing back the curses rising in his throat.
It was the familiar Magical Power he sensed in the trees—assassins sent by his father, under Dilanshe’s command.
“Leave now, unless you want your master’s life spared.”
When he unleashed Magical Power that vastly exceeded his father’s own, anguished cries erupted from the branches above.
Only then did they seem to grasp that the master’s son could kill not only them, but their master as well. The sound of their retreat faded, rustling away.
Yet they were not the only threat.
The moment the familiar Magical Power vanished, a group wearing White Masks surrounded him.
“We thought you were the Magic Tower Master’s escort. Seems that wasn’t it.”
It was a young man’s voice. Kirien’s brow furrowed as he noted the leaf tattoo etched on the back of his hand.
That organization wouldn’t miss such a golden opportunity. A Hunting Tournament where magic was restricted—wasn’t it the perfect setting to eliminate the Magic Tower Master?
But the Magic Restriction Formula that blanked the Hunting Tournament—both its design and its modification—came from Kirien himself.
Even if the restriction made him move as though through water, it was hardly enough to trouble him against rabble like this.
“I’ll repay the humiliation of that day!”
His opponent, teeth bared, rushed at him in unison with the others.
Poisoned blades streamed in, and relentless attacks followed one after another.
After a prolonged struggle, Kirien succeeded in eliminating his tenacious enemies. In the process, his left arm was cut deeply, though the throbbing pain hardly mattered.
What mattered was whether any enemies remained, and where Cecilia was now.
He raised his torn, blood-soaked arm to reactivate Tracking Magic when one of the fallen enemies on the ground convulsed.
Its stubborn life not yet extinguished, it spat blood and managed bitter mockery through labored breathing.
“You think you found us. Really?”
“…….”
“Our mission lives on even in death! The fake you cling to is already dead……. Ack!”
The rambling mouth fell silent with a final death rattle.
‘Ah.’
Kirien wiped the wet blood splattered across his face with the back of his hand.
Now, surveying the scene before him, it was grim. Corpses lay scattered, blood flowing like a river, and without feeling, he erased the traces of the battle with magic.
He did not wish to show such a gruesome sight to Cecilia, should she come this way.
Yet even after restoring the forest to its original state, even after eliminating every enemy, his unease only intensified rather than subsided.
His nameless anxiety became reality the moment he spotted the White Cloak in the Western Region.
He didn’t need to draw near to know. The cloak, white as a rabbit, was the one Cecilia had worn—but the person wearing it was not her.
Then where was Cecilia now……?
[You think you found us. Really?]
The enemy’s mockery echoed in his ears.
What if they deliberately lured him here by concentrating those with Magical Power? What if they pinned him to the west while sending clients without power to Cecilia?
Bang!
At that moment, a massive explosion erupted from the south.

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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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