A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special - Novel Chapter 60

A Returner’s Magic Should Be Special Novel


Chapter 60 Summer Break (1)



At the center of magic studies, Althea stood in all of its glory. The small territory seemed small in comparison to its significant breakthroughs in spellcraft and its military might. Its  renown  worldwide  in  magical  studies  stemmed  from  the Magic Tower, whose main branch lured magicians of all shapes and sizes to Althea.




The  Magic  Tower's  innovative  magical  techniques  cornered the  market  on  anything  magic  from  military  application  to everyday objects, spanning across multiple nations. The Western Kingdom Alliance and Hebrion Kingdom both paled in comparison  to  the  Magic  Tower's  market  share  in  producing objects with Magic Crystals.




Like its namesake, Althea's Magic Tower dwarfed its neighbors. On every floor of this cylindrical tower, divisions of magicians expressed     their talents     through     innovation. Magicians  whose  names  were  widely  recognized  within  the Magic   Tower   were   given   their   personal   labs   to   test   their conjectures,  outfitted  with  state-of-the-art  equipment.  These rooms were forbidden to all  others; any magician worth their salt would be awed by the state-of-the-art equipment lining the walls from end to end.



There  was  one  room  within  the  tower  that  was  endlessly churning out noises. Many rumors spread about what lurked in the laboratory-- in reality, it was the private lab of Zod Exarion. Zod was in the middle of an experiment with a Magic Crystal on the table when an elegant voice rang out through the Pad beside him.




"Old man, I didn't think I would see you in a lab again."




Zod's hands moved delicately across the Magic Crystal  as he studied the surface of the stone.  Zod clicked his tongue as he carefully carved the surface and brushed off the residual dust.




"I've   come   across   an   interesting   technique   as   of   late," explained Zod.




"Mmm... I don't see how you find techniques so interesting."




"Complex  mechanisms.  Logic  that  moves  through  countless magical  circuits. The fundamental  laws from which creation is based. Once a new technique is discovered, the world advances one   step   forward   in   the   face   of   true   progress. Isn't   it scintillating?"




"To   somebody   normal   like   myself,   it   sounds   absolutely dreary."




A buzzing sound whizzed, and a spark flew out of the Magic Crystal.  Zod  shook  his  head  in  disappointment.  "Is  three  the max for a 5th-grade Magic Crystal?"




"Old man, could you focus? It's been many months since we last spoke.  In a conversation with the Saintess, only someone like you can speak to me like this."




"You  can  meet  me  anytime  you  want.  This  technique  is  a priority for me."




The  elegant  woman  shook  her  head  and  gave  up  trying  to convince Zod. She was Saintess Priscilla, the woman leading the Church of Artemis, whose influence reached every corner of the planet. Her fame led many to refer to her as the 6th sovereign of the  Alliance  of  the  Western  Kingdoms;  a  power  putting  her status on par with the head of the Magic Tower.




"Just like last time, I suppose I won't be expecting you at the Grand  Council  meeting?"  asked  Priscilla.  The  Grand  Council


was a meeting of the most influential  members in the Alliance of the Western Kingdoms. In truth, the lady's call was primarily just to check on Zod's attendance.




"You know I'm not going to--what's the point in asking?" Zod turned  back  around  to  tinker  with  his  Magic  Crystal  before pausing and murmuring to his peer. "Ah, right. Actually, I'll be coming  along  this  time.  There  was  a  new  Magical  Technique expert who wanted to sit in."




Priscilla's ears perked up at Zod's words. "Oh. A new expert? Who was it-- Hephatos, head of the northern branch? Elianos, the  wise  man  of  the  West?  I  wonder  who  could  drag  Zod's himself   out   of   seclusion.   I'm   not   familiar   with   any   other Archmages."




"Desir Arman. 1st Circle Mage."




Priscilla couldn't hold back her laughter, and a guffaw came streaming  out  of  the  Pad.  "1st  Circle?  Zod,  are  you  losing  it already? I'd have thought it would take a few more years before you start going senile."




"This kid has the qualification."




"Alright. I don't have the right say speak for your corporation." Priscilla shook her head in disbelief. "...say. I feel like I've heard that name before."




"You've  probably  head  of  him.   He's  the  Single  Ranker  of Hebrion Academy."




Priscilla's  eyes  squinted  as  she  heard  his  words.  "Old  man, you're  not  really  saying  you're  going  to  invite  a  member  of Hebrion Academy to attend our meeting, are you?"




"I can't see why this is an issue. We're all allied nations now. In any case, he will  be attending not as a member of Hebrion Academy, but as a member of the Magic Tower."




"You know that whilst we're allied, the other nations will not take kindly to someone of his pedigree at the meeting."




Historically,  Hebrion  Kingdom  and  the  Alliance  of  Western Kingdoms  were  on  bad  terms.   It  was  only  after  the  Holy Kingdom  fell  that  they  had  no  choice  but  to  form  an  uneasy partnership   to   bring   humanity   back   from   the   brink   of


extinction, but there was a lingering animosity between the two nations.  The  two  main  organizations  subjugating  the  Shadow World were Hebrion Academy and the Alliance of the Western Kingdoms, supported by their requisite nations. These organizations competed for every single scrap of Magic Crystal dropped  by  the  Shadow  World,  and  each  completed  Shadow World dug into the profits of the other. Each successful Shadow World  yielded  Magic  Crystals  that  led  to  military  growth  for each nation.




In the past, the two nations devolved into a bitter war before the Shadow Worlds started appearing.  Rivers of blood flowed and many compared it to the mythical War of Good and Evil. By the time the Shadow Worlds began, the grudge was deep-seated and small  skirmishes erupted whenever a Shadow World was being subjugated.




"You know that a Shadow World recently popped up, right?"




"Of course. It was very welcome; we were in need of supplies."




"Desir's  party  had  entered  a  Shadow  World  and  discovered documents  pertaining  to  the  Fall  of  Holy  Kingdom  during  its subjugation. I imagine you've been looking for this for a while now."




"What?  How?"  Priscilla  let  out  an  uncharacteristic  yelp  in shock.




"Didn't they tell you? I suppose it's not surprising, what with the uneasy relationship between Hebrion and the Church. You'll find out anyways, but it may be worth hearing what he has to say first hand. What do you think?"




The Saintess looked helpless in front of Zod as he had gotten one over on her.  "It looks like I'll  have to meet him just this once."




-




The world was on the cusp of being destroyed. Everything was gone. Explosions crashed and tore at his eardrums. The violent sound  of  war  that  was  so  characteristic  of  his  past.  Screams bellowed out as the world was covered in soot and ash. Shouts yelled out for loved ones who were at death's door. Weapons of war emerged to combat the incoming threat.  He could faintly hear the waves crashing on the shore as the distant sea glittered in an ashen gray.


The metallic scent of the sea briefly tickled his nose before fading away only to be replaced by a burning heat that seemed to consume the world around him. It was an ordeal that drained him   of   all   his   energy.   He   could   only   watch   exhausted   as everything underneath the ashen sky was dyed in red.




The  world  was  in  chaos.  Thousands  of  bodies  littered  the battlefield   and   more   appeared   by   the   minute.   With   each explosion,  the  body  count  increased  by  one  or  two  dozen. Within the catastrophe, a girl's torso was squirming sporadically. Desir's eyes met her own as she opened her mouth to speak. Blood spilled out of her mouth, but no sound came out.




To  this  day,  he  could  never  forget  the  final  words  that  she mouthed to him.




"I don't want to die, Desir."




Her eyes soon lost focus; it was at this moment that Desir lost himself.  The name written on the girl's dog tag buried within the debris was...




Romantica Eru.


There were no tears in his eyes.  His heart was in complete anguish.




A   surviving   soldier   was   looking   at   "something"   gigantic beyond some great distance as he muttered something straight from Desir's heart. "How do you expect us to stop that thing?"At the  end  of  their  gaze  stood  a  nightmare  from  legends  past;  a cruel  butcher with runic words carved into his molars. Flames of hell writhed around his neck and he stood solemnly in front of his opponents. Desir looked at him with disbelief as he pulled the name of the monster from the depths of his memory.




"The Devil of Ruin, Dadaneuph."




Hundreds of spells blotted out the sun in the pursuit of the devil. Following the muffled sounds of explosions, there was no damage done to him.  In response, he let out a monstrous roar and  began  his  counterattack.  Humans  wrapped  themselves  in defensive   magic,   but   it   was   to   no   avail.   Even   the   most accomplished magicians bled from their eyes and ears as they cried  out  in  pain  and  agony.  There  was  no  better  word  to describe him than a 'calamity'.




The earth groaned at his footstep and dark clouds shot out, akin to a volcanic eruption. Tremors quaked beneath their feet


as an earthquake tore the ground apart, and the skies burned up at the sight of a massive meteor. Desir screamed. He screamed with all  his might, but only a hoarse sound of air came out as tears began to blind him.




He was awake. Desir stood up in a panic with his arms flailing in  the  air  only  to  find  walls  painted  in  a  creamy  white  color surrounding  him  and  the  faint  sound  of  a  grandfather  clock ticking somewhere in his room.




Desir woke in a panic as he looked around to see his creamy white walls and the faint ticking of a grandfather clock lingered in his room. The bloody war, the falling fortresses, and the devil of ruin were nowhere to be seen.




"W-was... was it all a dream?"




Desir wrapped his head in his trembling hands and shuddered.   As   he   wrapped   his   hands   around   himself   for comfort,   his   pale   fingers   sapped   away   the   unsettling   heat radiating  from  his  face.  His  entire  body  was  soaked  in  cold sweat.   Whatever   he   did,   he   couldn't   stop   shaking.   Cruel memories  haunted  him  haunted  him  everywhere  he  went--a scar that would never fade.

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