“We’ll need to put in a formal request. I’ll call Seton separately to coordinate the details. Commander, you’ll cooperate accordingly. The mages will have full authority over the search. Understood?”
“Understood, Your Grace.”
Sweeping the monster nests was the mages’ responsibility alone.
Nests functioned like a kind of barrier—once someone stepped in, monsters would immediately react.
Unless the plan was to obliterate the entire nest, setting foot inside was strictly forbidden.
Knights were assigned not to engage, but to protect mages during casting—when they were most vulnerable—and to safely escort them back once they were drained.
“That’ll be all. Dismissed. Get some rest.”
Adrian despised wasting time on unnecessary matters.
The moment he left, the war room quickly emptied.
Only Orgen remained behind to tidy up the meeting space.
“Um…”
“Oh, yes? What is it?”
Orgen smiled warmly at the approaching knight commander.
“About the search...”
“Yes?”
“I’m sure there’s a reason, but wouldn’t it be simpler to have Lord Seton handle it, instead of contacting the Western Tower?”
Orgen’s brows drooped as he offered an awkward smile.
He’d expected this question.
To be honest, there was no real reason to contact the Western Tower—Seton alone was more than enough.
Despite his flamboyant appearance, light tone, occasional swagger, and youthful face, people often forgot one thing:
Seton had long since surpassed the limits of humanity.
No one even knew his true age.
The Northern territory was vast, but with Seton, Adrian, and the vice tower master Avril working together, there was little they couldn’t accomplish.
But
—if Seton himself had asked them to bring in the Western Tower’s master, there wasn’t much room for argument.
“Lord Seton is currently… occupied with another matter. He won’t be able to participate this time.”
Orgen lied smoothly.
“…Oh.”
What could possibly be more urgent than this?
He could read the dissatisfaction clearly on the commander’s face—but Orgen stuck to the script.
“He’s conducting a different angle of investigation. I can’t go into the details yet.”
“…I see.”
He didn’t understand at all, but since Orgen referred to it as “this matter,” the knight had no choice but to pretend he did.
“It’s unfortunate.”
“I understand. I’ll speak with him again.”
“Please do. The Western Tower is… well…”
“Of course.”
Nodding, Orgen sent the knight off with a gentle farewell, assuring him to speak up if anything else was needed.
Once he was finally alone, he let out a long sigh.
It had been a turbulent year at the Grand Duke’s estate, and now it looked like things would reach their peak this winter.
That afternoon, a paper bird flew into the Western Tower.
It slipped effortlessly through the magical barriers that cloaked the tower—cast by the tower master himself—and soared all the way to the top.
Perching daintily on the highest window ledge, it tapped gently on the glass with its beak.
Tap, tap.
The sound was fainter than the howling wind outside—but moments later, the window burst open.
And from inside came an ear-piercing shriek.
“Lord Seton! Is it really you?!”
The bird trembled slightly at the sound of the woman’s scream, but it had no time to escape—it was swiftly caught by a hand that shot out the window.
“Oh my, oh my, I can’t believe it!”
The hands that gripped it trembled—not from fear of crumpling it, but from sheer obsessive glee.
“How long has it been?!”
Her pale face was hidden beneath a tangle of lavender hair whipped wild by the wind, but her eyes sparkled with unmistakable brilliance.
Frantically brushing the hair from her face, the woman released a pulse of magic.
The paper bird transformed into a letter and floated midair, suspended by her mana.
There didn’t appear to be any writing on the unfolded paper.
That was normal.
It was a secret mage’s letter—only visible to the intended recipient.
Proof of that was in the way her violet eyes darted rapidly across the blank parchment, absorbing words no one else could see.
“Oh my goodness.”
A breathless gasp escaped her lips—then a grin spread so wide it looked ready to split her face.
“Oh my GOD!”
She clapped her hands together.
“If I’d known this would happen,
I
would’ve seeded the nests myself!”
Then Lord Seton would’ve summoned
her
a lot sooner!
If anyone else had heard her mutter that, they’d have been horrified.
But she simply smacked her lips with giddy satisfaction and flicked her fingers—summoning a massive trunk.
She began stuffing it with all sorts of suspicious items: bubbling vials, pouches of unidentified powder, and other strange tools.
The trunk didn’t close until nearly everything in her room had been packed away.
“Right then—shall we go?”
With a snap of her fingers, a giant teleportation circle appeared.
A warp spell.
Rrrrrr.
“Oh my gods!”
When Penelope, master of the Western Tower, arrived at her destination via warp, she was greeted by a bound werewolf.
But she wasn’t the only one startled.
“You!”
“My Lord Seton!”
The moment Penelope spotted Seton—locked in combat with the werewolf—she collapsed to the floor in tears.
One hand dramatically outstretched toward the sky.
Her lips trembled. Her brows drooped in pitiful misery.
She looked utterly heartbroken—but Seton only stared at her with cold indifference.
“Lord Seton…”
Rather than helping her up, he chanted an
ice-elemental
spell loud enough for all to hear.
While he recited the long and complex incantation, he cast a sidelong glance at Penelope and whispered:
“Blizzard.”
“Oh, come on!”
With the final word, a massive area-of-effect spell was unleashed.
Penelope, who had been sobbing just moments ago, leapt to her feet and dashed out of the blast radius.
Her target: right beside Seton.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
When she shouted, Seton merely twisted his lips into an irritating smirk.
“Didn’t you see I was engaged?”
“You lunatic! You saw me there and cast that anyway?!”
“You
heard
me chant Blizzard, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t think you’d
actually
let it fly!”
Fuming, Penelope rolled her shoulder.
Crack.
Even though she’d dodged the spell the moment he cast it, the edge of the attack had still grazed her.
Freezing crystals had burrowed deep into her joint, locking it solid.
She’d cast
Dispel
to counteract it, but she couldn’t wait for the ice to melt—so she shattered it violently.
Meanwhile, a ferocious blizzard engulfed the spot where the werewolf had stood.
It was like a snow bomb had gone off.
Endless waves of brutal cold pummeled the earth.
The spell wouldn’t stop until everything inside the designated area was frozen solid.
“No matter how many times I see it, that’s
insane.”
Penelope clicked her tongue in disapproval—but couldn’t look away.
Blizzard
was a massive-scale AoE spell—something only a mage above the 8th Circle could wield.
A spell beyond the limits of ordinary humans.
RUMBLE.
The ground vibrated from the force of the storm—but not a single snowflake spilled beyond its boundary.
Not even a chill escaped.
This was
magic
on an overwhelming scale.
“Why are you even here?”
“You summoned me, didn’t you?”
Seton cast her a glacial glance.
The look alone made Penelope shiver involuntarily.
Typical ice mage behavior—
“I assumed you’d be in your lab. That’s why I keyed the warp coordinates to you.”
“Creative excuse.”
“If you liked it, maybe hold my hand?”
“Not a chance.”
Seton scoffed.
The rumble beneath their feet had completely subsided.
“Try acting professionally—for once. At least until the cooperation order is finalized.”
With a voice cold enough to freeze bone, he vanished—taking the fully frozen werewolf with him.
All that remained was the faint trace of his teleportation magic.
Penelope stared after it, her eyes following the last sparkles in the air, and her cheeks flushed.
“Gods! That
Blizzard!
”
Rough execution aside, the raw power was completely her type.
“The brute force of it!”
She stomped her foot in a frenzy, caught in an ecstatic daze.
Only after several stomps did she calm down.
Penelope Fucati
—master of the Western Tower.
A devout admirer of Seton.
And above all, a mage with the rare gift of
seeing
the flow of mana.
“That dazzling color…”
She gazed at the radiant trail left by Seton’s magic with reverent awe.
Only after the glow fully faded did she move again—her goal unchanged:
To follow Seton.
To stay close to the man with the most beautiful magic in the world.
“Didn’t I tell you to send a cooperation order?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“I meant to
work,
not cause a spectacle. What is this?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve already sent the vice master and some reliable ones into the mountains.”
“And you?”
“I’m the control tower.”
Of course. Typical behavior from
the Western Mad Dog, Penelope
.
Despite Adrian’s sharp tone, she didn’t even blink—just gave him a serene smile.
“Tower master of the West.”
“Yes, Your Grace?”
“Everyone knows mages are above the law. But—”
Adrian stood up and stepped toward her, his strides long and heavy.
“You’d do well to remember one thing.”
His gaze was like ice.
“The absolute pact above even the kings of men.”
For a brief moment, his pupils narrowed into slits—his irises splitting with a terrifying gleam.