TVWD 34

Chapter 34

The Master of the Tower, God of the Tower, Genius of the Century, the Worst Madman Alive, Collector of Oddities.

All were titles that referred to Silla Bernstein.

Step, step.

Clad in a white robe, he was walking somewhere that was neither the Mage Tower nor the Empire’s capital. It was a passageway without walls, shrouded in pitch-black darkness, with no visible end.

Silla was now in an underground region where the Kazas Empire, the Litton Kingdom, and the Holy Kingdom met at their borders.

Although called “underground,” it wasn’t a place with any ordinary entrance — only those who knew its location could reach it.

When he stopped walking, a voice came from the darkness, as if waiting for him.

“You’ve come again?”

“And you, old man, are still alive, huh?”

“Hoho, didn’t I say I’ve still got a long way to go before dying?”

The voice of the old man in a large black cloak was raspy, making it impossible to tell his gender. His face was hidden as well, so his age was unknown — but Silla didn’t care.

When they had first met, he’d been told to “respect the elder,” and from then on, he simply called the stranger the old man.

“You’re always staring at that thing.”

Unlike the narrow passage Silla had walked through, this space was vast, lit by a faint, flickering glow.

The old man’s gaze was fixed on the sight before them — an enormous expanse filled entirely with gears.

Tens of thousands, millions… an uncountable number of gears interlocked, moving as one massive structure.

“Still the same today, huh?”

Instead of replying, the old man slowly raised his hand and pointed at one spot.

Between two giant gears, a single screw was sticking out.

The gears around it were subtly misaligned, and it looked as though, if that screw came loose, everything nearby would fall out of place.

“Several of them are already quite off balance,” the old man said.

Silla followed his finger and saw other gears that were already significantly misaligned.

“Yeah. Since last time, they’re even more crooked — it’ll all collapse soon.”

“Maybe. Or maybe not.”

Silla glanced sideways at the old man’s calm tone.

“Are you okay with that?”

“With what?”

“With the center of the world falling apart.”

The old man didn’t answer — instead, he began to laugh softly. Heheheh.

Silla looked again at the twisted gears and the screw that seemed ready to fall free.

Only after a long chuckle did the old man speak.

“That screw has tried countless times to break free from its place — but it’s failed every single time. Because every part in this place is designed to always return to its assigned position.”

Silla had learned of the Center of the World not long after becoming Master of the Tower.

After reaching the pinnacle of magic, boredom had driven him to experiment with every forbidden spell he could find — and one of those had brought him here.

“Because every part — every screw, every gear — represents a person, right?”

“Heh, yes. You remember well. Every gear, every chain, even the smallest screw — each one represents a person playing a specific role.”

When Silla had first visited this place, the old man had told him that every human’s fate was predetermined.

Silla had refused to believe it. He tried to destroy this space with every spell he knew — but nothing changed.

The old man’s claim that everyone’s birth, death, appearance, and personality were all preordained and bound by the same rules had seemed absurd.

If that were true, then even his rise to become the Tower Master and his talent for magic had been decided in advance?

Every year, or whenever he achieved something new, Silla tried again to shatter the Center of the World — and every time, he failed.

He had long since realized the truth.

This place was protected by an overwhelming power, and the old man’s words were, in all likelihood, true.

It was something Silla couldn’t deny — because awakening to magic had been just as natural and inevitable for him.

“But that screw never gave up,” the old man said. “It kept trying to free itself, and look — it’s managed to move that far forward.”

When Silla had first visited, that same screw had barely shifted at all from its place.

“You should be grateful to that little screw, you know,” the old man continued. “If not for it, you wouldn’t have been able to come here, nor realize that you were walking a path that had already been written for you.”

Who could that screw possibly be?

After accepting that this place was real, Silla began searching the world for strange people — those who might defy their destiny. Surely, anyone capable of that couldn’t be normal.

“Soon enough, everything will come tumbling down. The tiniest, most insignificant screw will cause a reaction that changes everything.”

“And you’re fine telling me that?”

“There’s no rule against it. Hohoho.”

“Do you know who that screw is?”

“Hmm… that, I do not.”

Without another word, Silla turned away, walking back down the dark passage he had come through.

When he reached the entrance, he activated teleportation magic — and arrived in the northeastern region of the Empire.

He pulled up his hood, covered his face with a mask, and headed for a seemingly ordinary five-story building.

Because the building was warded with ancient artifacts that blocked teleportation, even he had to enter on foot.

He went straight to his private office on the third floor, with his assistant — a member of the Blue Bird organization — following behind.

The room was three times larger on the inside than it appeared outside, spotless and meticulously clean. The only notable feature was the mountain of documents piled around the desk.

“Why is there always so much work?”

Clicking his tongue, Silla sat down and began flipping through the papers.

“More importantly, Boss — Tolle has gone missing.”

Tolle was a mage from the Tower.

Silla kept the Mage Tower and Blue Bird completely separate. Hardly any mages belonged to both.

The members of Blue Bird didn’t know their boss was the Tower Master — and the mages of the Tower didn’t know he led a secret organization.

Only a few, including the fanatically devoted Tolle, knew the truth and joined Blue Bird willingly.

“That lunatic? He’s probably off doing something insane somewhere.”

It was questionable who was really the lunatic, but the subordinate continued his report calmly.

“The problem is that Tolle’s last trace was found in the Imperial Domain.”

“Where exactly?”

“In a forest near the capital — where the recent hunting festival took place.”

Silla’s gaze turned sharp. The glint of madness in his yellow eyes, visible through the mask, made his subordinate shudder.

“He apparently attacked an imperial noble and was killed.”

Silla twirled his index finger idly, and a small orb of water rose above it, spinning in a miniature vortex.

“The emperor’s not the type to bat an eye over a few dead nobles.”

If anything, he’d probably be pleased.

The current emperor was a cunning man, one who excelled at clinging to his throne.

“Unfortunately, His Majesty has issued an official investigation — he claims he’ll uncover whoever sent the assassin.”

“How unusual of him.”

“It’s because the noble attacked was rather high-profile.”

At the next words, Silla’s finger froze mid-air.

“Rosia Levian and Calvin Levian — the Marquis Levian’s children.”

“…What?”

“And the Duke of Riciansheus happened to be there as well, which made it impossible to suppress the investigation.”

Realizing he couldn’t teleport due to the anti-teleportation barrier he himself had set, Silla stood up abruptly and strode out of the building.

“B-Boss!”

The subordinate’s panicked cry echoed behind him.

Silla had intended to head straight to the Levian estate, but changed course and teleported toward the Imperial Domain’s hunting grounds instead.

“Rosia Levian, huh? Damn that fool Tolle.”

She was one of the most interesting people he’d discovered recently — it would be a shame if she died.

Tolle had undoubtedly used magic, and for Silla, tracing magical residue was effortless.

“I implanted an ‘eye’ in him. I should be able to see what happened.”

In each of the Tower mages who had joined Blue Bird, Silla had placed a fragment of his own mana.

Through it, he could track their location — even read their memories.

“Found it.”

Silla placed his hand on the spot where Tolle’s magic lingered and closed his eyes. Soon, he could see the events of that day unfold.

A moment later, he let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

“Ha.”

“You… why are you laughing?”

From Tolle’s point of view, Rosia was smiling — eyes gently curved, a look of pure satisfaction, as if she had just gained the entire world.