Chapter 143: Turbulence (5)
Kine craved power.
Since the moment she was taken in—half willingly, half forcibly—by Orthes after her family in the Bacchus cult was slaughtered.
After all, wasn’t Orthes’s very first question to her, “Do you seek power?” For Kine, power was the solution to every problem.
The relentless pursuit by Blasphemia, the annihilation of her Bacchus cult family, and the salvation of her kin who had fallen into vegetative states—if she’d had power, all these problems could have been solved.
Thus, she studied Orthes. This was the man who personally executed the Bacchus cult’s traitor, manipulated Argyrion from behind the scenes, and devised schemes to dismantle the Ten Towers. Orthes was precisely what Kine aspired to be.
The more Kine studied Orthes, the more he became an enigma to her. He was less a person and more like an unsolvable puzzle.
If survival was the mark of strength, then Orthes was undoubtedly strong. But the way he demonstrated that strength was profoundly strange.
Orthes’s greatest weapon wasn’t his body or a blade—it was his tongue.
From the current state of the magical society to the intrigues that caused it, much of it originated from Orthes’s verbal maneuvering. From what Kine had learned in her private lessons with Carisia, even the downfall of the elder of the Ten Towers, supposedly Argyrion’s doing, was actually a result of Orthes’s hidden hand.
Orthes had the power to bring down an elder of the Magic Towers by force. But his cunning words threatened the world itself.
His persuasive power was astonishing. From deceiving Demus in Elysion to the present, Orthes was responsible for orchestrating much of the world’s current turmoil.
To wield a deadly weapon like his, Kine sharpened her own skills.
Now, with the Panoptes agents and other participants hurling stones at the unknown assailant, her efforts bore fruit.
Watching this scene, Kynemon had a single thought.
That bastard Orthes is ruining the world.
***
I was elated to see unexpected reinforcements.
‘It was worth taking her in, feeding her well, and giving her a warm place to sleep!’
At a glance, the Mental Parasite’s ally appeared to be struggling to comprehend the abrupt shift in the situation. My task here was simple.
I needed to stop the parasite’s metamorphosis, bring Carisia, and eliminate that figure, who was most likely Argyrion.
I started planning my approach to exploit the mana pipes. Even now, the Mental Parasite was drawing mana from the Magic Core.
If I could sever the connection between the pipes and the Magic Core, it would weaken the parasite and tilt the power struggle in favor of Carisia and the Blasphemia agents.
But that would be an amateur move. Who knew how long it would take to destroy the pipes completely? If I failed to destroy enough of them, our forces could end up depleted of mana.
And besides, that approach would only harm Kynemon’s investments—our “company’s” potential assets.
Creating new value through conflict is the expert’s way, but unfortunately, I’m no investment prodigy. I settled for the middle ground.
Preserve as much value as possible. Maintain the facilities, destroy only the Mental Parasite.
And I had a method. The parasite’s metamorphosis was an incredibly complex magic that would demand a tremendous strain on my eyes to analyze fully.
But full comprehension wasn’t necessary right now. Transforming the ritual entirely was one thing, but my aim now was simply to ruin its meticulously set banquet by overturning it.
I didn’t need to understand it to smash it. The more complex a spell, the more disastrous it becomes with just a single misstep.
Carisia’s blasts left craters all around the Amimone Tower as the Mental Parasite defended itself. Beneath the shattered ground, fragments of the mana pipes were visible.
I pulled out a mana-imprinted drive for the overlay.
*Click.*
*Click.*
‘It’s not working?’
This was the first time an overlay had failed me after countless uses. Was the drive defective?
The mana, which should have powered the drive, was drained.
Just a moment ago, this drive was functioning perfectly. When I tried attaching another drive as a test, I saw its mana being siphoned off into the pipes.
Damn it.
The Mental Parasite’s mana absorption was too strong. The mana intended to complete the spell was being sucked up before the spell could even be cast.
I didn’t expect this overlay to be blocked like this.
I glanced up at the Amimone Tower, still torn to pieces. There was no choice.
Time to become a low-level investor.
I’ll also need to deal with the fake news source that gave me bad investment advice.
***
In the midst of his shock, Nastion managed to regain his composure. Though the onslaught of stone-throwing had escalated into a storm of attack spells, it had no effect if they couldn’t grasp his true nature.
‘What the hell did he do?’
It was clear that the crude insult, “that damn bastard,” had somehow served as a magical trigger. Yet Nastion couldn’t fathom the structure of the spell.
At best, he deduced that it was some kind of curse that weakened mental resistance. But beyond that, the elements that rattled people’s will and led them into specific delusions were beyond his understanding.
‘Was this anticipated…?’
It was undoubtedly another of Orthes’s ploys. The moment his allies attacked, an orchestrated counter-propaganda led everyone to turn on him.
The scale of Orthes’s scheme was now beyond comprehension, as was the extent of his tactical preparations.
“Blasphemia! Change your target! Attack the Magic Core connected to the tower, not the tower itself! Otherwise, this will be a war of attrition without end!”
Finally, a more effective plan of attack was issued. But Nastion couldn’t understand why Orthes, who must have anticipated all of this, was only now suggesting this strategy.
‘Was it to avoid suspicion?’
The Mental Parasite and the False God had long been enemies of the Divine Cult. There was no record of their ever clashing with the magical society. If Orthes had revealed the effective countermeasures immediately upon their appearance, it would have aroused considerable suspicion later.
Thus, the initial approach was to stymie the metamorphosis with attacks, only initiating the full assault after sufficient time had passed. A truly fearsome opponent.
It wasn’t just his knack for devising schemes; it was his ability to maneuver every participant in the fight according to his plan. Even Nastion, who prided himself on his cunning, found all his desperate measures rendered futile by Orthes’s machinations.
Nastion spotted Orthes charging towards him. This was dangerous.
Orthes could probably grasp his true nature. One blade from Orthes would be deadlier than any grand magic cast by lesser mages here.
With the False God, who should have held Orthes in place, now immobilized itself, Nastion had no remaining options for counterattacks.
Orthes sprinted along the building’s wall and launched himself from its peak. At that moment, two spells collided, erupting in smoke.
The sudden obscured vision masked Orthes’s approach, which now came from behind.
Had it not been for Nastion’s entire body functioning as a sensory organ, he wouldn’t have detected this strike.
Nastion dissolved his corporeal form and escaped into the wall’s shadow.
Cheers rang out among the mages shouting, “Evil has been vanquished!” From the shadow on the wall, Nastion fled into the rubble of the building, then into the shadows cast by other buildings, repeatedly shifting his position. And as he landed, he watched Orthes below.
Their eyes met.
Though Nastion had no “eyes” to speak of, he knew it instinctively.
He had used instantaneous evasion without a trace or delay, yet the moment he slipped into the shadows, Orthes located him.
A single thought rose in Nastion’s mind—a word foreign to him in centuries since gaining his shadowed body.
*Survival.*
‘Can I survive this?’
Against this half-god who had turned all of Algoth City into his stage.
Nastion was feverishly calculating. From the shadow of a wall, the shadow of a lamppost, and sometimes from the shadow of a bird.
Wherever he hid, Orthes was closing in, and Nastion consciously suppressed his growing awareness of this fact.
Pressed into extremity, a strange solution presented itself.
The reason spatial magic was so tightly controlled was due to its potential to summon extra-dimensional forces.
But Argyrion had no reason to fear the extra-dimension.
And he already had the massive mana source required for spatial magic.
He had to act before all the mana pipes connecting to the False God were severed.
This unfortunate actor resolved to blow up the stage to escape the director’s trap.