Chapter2-The World of the Dark Tower

At the edge of the Magus Tower stood a two-story building.

Bairon, carrying his sister Evelyn, made his way home and laid her on the bed in an upstairs bedroom.

"Would it worsen her condition?" As Bairon applied a salve to reduce Evelyn's swelling, a glint of murderous intent flashed in his eyes.

He vowed to avenge the slap she had received.

Evelyn's cheeks bore a sickly pale hue, reminiscent of the Greyscale illness.

In the Röntgen Continent, this ailment is known as Greyscale.

When Greyscale flares up, it turns the skin to a gray-black hue.

Once the entire body is covered with this lifeless hue, it signifies the imminent end of the sufferer's life.

However, Evelyn shook her head comfortingly, "Don't worry, brother. With you by my side, no illness can scare me."

"Evelyn, you're truly brave," Bairon said with a gentle laugh. "You must be exhausted. Rest for now."

Not only does Greyscale manifest as unseemly dead skin, but it also severely weakens the patient's constitution.

The fact that Evelyn had bravely attended the heritage ceremony in place of Bairon, despite her frailty, tore at his heart.

As Evelyn closed her eyes, she suddenly opened them again, asking, "You won't be gone when I wake up, right?"

"I promise you, when you wake up, I'll still be here," Bairon assured her.

Only then did Evelyn close her eyes again.

Soon after, the soft sounds of her snores filled the room.

"Evelyn, once I have the means, I'll hire the best Chanting Magus to cure you," Bairon silently vowed.

But when he left the room, closing the door gently behind him, Bairon's posture slouched noticeably.

He reached into his robes, his hand emerging smeared with warm, sticky blood.

Facing twelve Dark Magi alone had not been without its cost.

What Lawrence and Rueel were unaware of was that Bairon's forceful killing of Snooty at the Heritage Hall had completely drained him of his last bit of Mindergy.

A fierce determination flashed in Bairon's eyes.

Pushing through the pain, he made his way downstairs to his own bedroom.

Alone, he cleaned and dressed his wounds, discarding the blood-soaked clothes into a nearby waste bin.

After taking a moment to regain his composure, Bairon retrieved a magus ring from his pouch.

There was a fact Bairon had kept hidden within the Heritage Hall.

He had indeed defeated twelve Dark Magus, but one of them possessed two magus rings.

Noticing something unusual about one of them, Bairon had deliberately kept it.

The ring he now held was that very one – a black, iron-like magus ring.

"A Dark Magus's magus ring?" Bairon mused, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

In the Röntgen Continent, whether it's the court magi of the northern Parboton Kingdom or the magus guilds of the alliance province where Bairon now resided, magi are universally classified into four categories: Battle Magus, Chanting Magus, Crafting Magus, and Dark Magus.

Battle Magus are known for their proficiency in casting instantaneous spells.

In combat, swift spellcasting provides a significant advantage.

However, these spells have limitations like shorter range and are better suited for one-on-one combat.

In contrast, Chanting Magus specialize in spells that require prolonged chanting of incantations.

The strength of these spells lies in their vast range and distance.

Moreover, multiple Chanting Magi can combine their efforts to cast a massive spell, creating a colossal magical field, especially advantageous in large-scale warfare.

Spells related to flora or healing, which require chantings, are also the forte of Chanting Magus.

As the name suggests, Crafting Magus are the creators.

They fashion various equipment like scrolls, staves, robes, magus rings, and even some peculiar artifacts – all are the handiwork of the Crafting Magus.

If one were to liken a Battle Magus to a lone wolf, wearing a magus ring and wandering the wilderness, then a Chanting Magus would be akin to a reaper, wielding a staff, skulking on the periphery of battlefields, reaping countless lives with his scythe.

Then, the Crafting Magus could be likened to the nouveau riche draped in magus robes imbued with protective spells.

Indeed, a trained Crafting Magus is a veritable goldmine on legs!

The equipment they craft can be sold for at least ten times the cost of the raw materials, often causing bidding frenzies.

Bairon had once wished to become a Crafting Magus himself, believing it would be the quickest way to amass enough wealth to hire the best Chanting Magus for Evelyn's treatment.

However, to become a Crafting Magus, one not only needs a profound talent in Spatial magic but also the ability to metaphorically 'throw gold coins into the sea'.

The training of a Crafting Magus is incredibly expensive.

Even as an apprentice, the yearly cost of materials for refining alone amounts to at least twenty thousand gold coins, not to mention additional expenses such as annual gifts for mentors and specialized refining tools.

Lacking the necessary funds, Bairon chose the path of the Battle Magus.

As for the last category, the Dark Magi, they are considered the enemies of the entire Röntgen Continent.

These magi, also known as Shadowcasters, delve into the terrifying realm of soul magic.

Their spells can transfer human thoughts into animal minds and vice versa, reanimate the dead, and do other spine-chilling acts.

These are forbidden magics, and anyone caught practicing them faces the pyre.

Now, Bairon found himself in possession of a magus ring belonging to a Dark Magus.

Although labeled as such, Bairon wasn't entirely sure, given that the ring wasn't worn by the Dark Magus but rather kept close to their person.

A sharp pain in his abdomen made Bairon hiss in pain.

Looking down, he saw blood seeping through the freshly wrapped bandage.

A fierce look flashed in his eyes.

This wound wouldn't heal for at least a fortnight.

Yet, his duel with Lawrence was only seven days away.

Even at his peak, Bairon couldn't be entirely confident about defeating Lawrence, who after all, was the illegitimate son of the Magus Tower Chief Steward Rueel and enjoyed special privileges.

"Should I take the gamble?"

Bairon's gaze flitted between the magus ring in his hand and the distance, his expression a tumultuous dance of doubt and determination.

Even if he triumphed over Lawrence in their impending duel, the victory would be bittersweet.

Evelyn's Greyscale was deteriorating rapidly.

The only novice Chanting Magus in Sailport, the town church's priest, had once cautioned Bairon that without immediate treatment, Evelyn wouldn't survive the coming winter.

Desperate and cornered, Bairon clung to the slender hope that this peculiar magus ring might herald a stroke of incredible luck.

If it meant saving Evelyn, he was even prepared to embrace the dark path of a Dark Magus.

"Evelyn, wish us luck..."

Bairon closed his eyes, channeling a wisp of Mindergy into the magus ring.

Almost instantly, he felt his consciousness being forcefully dragged into a swirling vortex.

Moments later, as dizziness ebbed away and he opened his eyes, the sight before him left him stunned.

A vast, boundless expanse, wreathed in grey mist, stretched out in front of him.

"Is this a Spatial magus ring?" Bairon mused, a frown creasing his brow.

Just as there are four categories of magus, magic is generally divided into four types: Spatial, Elemental, Temporal, and Soul.

One of the Spatial spells allows Crafting Magus to engrave storage space onto an item.

However, the vastness of the space before him, dwarfing not just Sailport, but even the expansive Shadeveil Mountains, defied the conventional understanding of Spatial spells.

Surely, not even an Epic Crafting Magus could achieve such a feat?

Lost in thought, Bairon turned around, only to be met with another sight that rendered him momentarily speechless.

Behind him lay an area resembling a marshland.

Following the sole muddy path that cut across it, his eyes settled on a towering seven-tiered black spire.

A Dark Tower?!

To Bairon's knowledge, whether it was the Contemplative Palace of the northern court magus or the headquarters of the southern magus guild, they always took the form of white towers.

What did the Dark Tower signify?

Moreover, aside from the Dark Tower, several other unnerving sights caught Bairon's eye.

Firstly, a massive grayish-black silhouette of a humanoid, at least twenty meters tall, floated in the sky, seemingly looking down upon the Dark Tower.

Secondly, within the marsh, a knight was ensnared by wild grasses emerging from the muck.

The steed the knight rode upon bore a resemblance to a horse, but its body was devoid of hair, covered instead with scales.

Its feet weren't hooves but menacing claws.

The knight himself was clad in shimmering, pure gold armor.

The image struck a chord with Bairon; he felt as though he had seen this knight somewhere before.

Pushing that thought aside, Bairon's attention was then drawn to a stunningly crafted statue of a woman situated just before the Dark Tower.

She sat gracefully on the tower's steps.

Her left leg stretched out, right leg bent, right elbow resting on her right knee, with her hand supporting her chin, gazing up at the overcast sky.

Moreover, there seemed to be something floating at the entrance of the Dark Tower.

Stepping onto the muddy path, Bairon navigated through the marshland until he stood before the tower.

Now, he could discern the floating objects clearly—two black scrolls and a tattered piece of parchment.

Scrolls were typically the Legacy Scroll, from which one could learn spells, or the Spell Scroll, infused with Mindergy, allowing for a one-time use of the spell contained within.

Black scrolls were not uncommon in the magus guild.

Yet, due to their sheer opulence, Bairon had never seen one utilized.

He recalled the black scroll raised above the head during the inheritance ceremony Chief Steward Rueel Stani had held for his illegitimate son, Lawrence.

That particular scroll, a symbol from the magus guild's headquarters, represented authority. It was blank, containing neither legacy nor spell.

"Weak..."

A soft yet resounding sigh echoed throughout the realm.

"Who's there?"

Bairon's pupils constricted as he quickly scanned his surroundings.