Translator: CinderTL
"That High Tower, with its concentrated magic core... it must be one of the magic wells Estelle mentioned, providing pure mana to the Demon Capital Gilles."
Recalling the bottomless abyss exposed when the High Tower collapsed, constantly emitting magic elements, Roland confirmed his deduction.
"And the other magic well..."
His memory flashed back to the area he'd passed on his way to the Blacksmith's Guild, where he'd sensed faint fluctuations of magic elements. Roland's brow furrowed slightly.
"Could it... be located right here, in the heart of this royal capital?"
The moment this thought formed, corroborating evidence surfaced from his memory.
When the Demon Capital Gilles first reawakened, he had witnessed it firsthand.
The towering enclosure wall that had completely enveloped the Mistland suddenly collapsed, creating a massive breach facing the River Domain's Royal Capitals—a perfect passage.
And it was precisely through that passage that they had returned to the royal capital from the Mistland.
"Meaning... the Demon Capital Gilles's domain might not be limited to the Mistland alone, but rather... encompass the entire River Domain Nations?"
The realization struck Roland like a bucket of ice water, instantly dispelling his drowsiness and snapping him fully awake.
If this is true... it means the River Domain Nations are no longer safe...
The magitech constructs he had encountered, and that mysterious Lich whose power seemed unfathomable...
These images flashed through his mind, causing his breathing to quicken involuntarily.
His previous victory over the Lich and the suppression of the Demon Capital's revival had been the result of a confluence of factors.
First, the Demon Capital's revival hadn't plunged the River Domain Nations into total chaos. At least the ruling classes remained unaffected, allowing them to swiftly decide to purge the Mistland.
Second, during a lull in the fierce battle between numerous transcendent professionals and the Lich, he had successfully severed the Lich's connection to the magic core, ultimately leading to its defeat.
However...
The massive surge of mana unleashed by Demon Capital Gilles' revival must have already drawn the attention of various powerful factions.
Among them would undoubtedly be entities whose strength rivaled or even surpassed that of the mysterious Lich.
A metropolis brimming with crystallized ancient magic would be a treasure beyond any spellcaster's wildest dreams.
If they were to realize that the royal capitals of the River Domain Nations concealed a crucial magic well capable of restarting the Demon Capital Gilles...
The thought of the chaos that could erupt made Roland take a deep breath.
Possessing such a treasure would inevitably attract covetous eyes.
It had taken the combined might of the River Domain Nations to barely subdue a single Lich.
While the Lich's absorption of the Demon Capital's core had granted it near-infinite mana, the exposure of the royal capital's magic well would unleash far more than just one spellcaster upon the River Domain Nations.
"In any case... whether Graham believes me or not, I'll tell him about this theory tomorrow."
After a moment's contemplation, Roland made his decision.
"As for what comes after..."
Unlike his experiences in the Golden Valley Kingdom, Roland had been treated with exceptional honor in the River Domain Nations.
Economically, he had received generous support from the merchant Colin.
In terms of strengthening his abilities, he had smoothly entered the Knight Academy and obtained the invaluable Knight's Breathing Technique almost without cost.
Gaining entry to the Blacksmith's Guild, while partly due to Hawk's friendship with the dwarf Griffin, also required the crucial support of Derek, the leader of the Merchant Faction.
Favors demanded repayment.
Roland's rapid advancement into the Transcendent Realm was inseparable from the assistance provided by the River Domain Nations.
He could not abandon this nation in its hour of crisis.
Such an act would violate his principles.
But to pledge his life to the kingdom's survival...
Roland shook his head gently, took a deep breath, and consciously relaxed his tense mind. With these complex thoughts swirling within him, he drifted into sleep.
The next morning, Roland awoke precisely on time.
Recalling his speculations from the previous night, he wasted no time.
After a hurried wash, he rushed to the Knight Academy without even preparing breakfast.
A quick greeting to the guard at the gate, and Roland swiftly navigated the familiar path to Dean Graham's office.
Knock, knock, knock!
Three crisp knocks echoed through the room, followed by Dean Graham's deep voice from within.
"Who is it?"
"Dean Graham, it's Roland."
"Hmm... come in."
Having obtained permission, Roland pushed the door open and entered.
Only then did he notice that, besides Graham, two unfamiliar figures were seated in the room.
These two were not dressed in the typical attire of the River Domain Nations.
They wore plain, gray-brown robes made of coarse, durable linen or wool, devoid of any emblems or ornamentation—so simple as to appear almost crude.
One was gaunt, like a wind-dried oak branch.
His sunken eye sockets framed amber eyes that seemed to have accumulated the weight of ages, their gaze calm yet unnervaturally profound.
His hands, clasped on his knees, revealed prominent knuckles and skin like aged parchment, etched with fine wrinkles.
The other man was sturdier, with a square face and a short, unkempt stubble on his chin. His dark brown hair, streaked with gray, was casually tied back.
He sat more casually, one hand resting on an unremarkable wooden staff that looked as if it had been freshly picked up from the forest.
Yet the moment Roland's gaze fell upon these two, his keen senses instantly detected an invisible anomaly.
Beneath their plain, almost crude robes, Roland sensed not the surging blood and Battle Qi of knights, but a vast, restrained force of magic elements, like a deep-sea current.
This power wasn't deliberately projected, yet it felt like molten lava flowing within a dormant volcano—a pure, ancient, and overwhelmingly oppressive energy, calmly slumbering within their bodies.
Merely sensing its presence caused Roland's mental power field to ripple instinctively, as if an invisible pebble had been dropped into a still pond.
"Spellcasters!"
Roland's expression remained unchanged upon realizing this.
In an instant, he withdrew his probing gaze, lowered his eyes, and stepped forward, standing quietly before Graham.
Roland's arrival seemed to dispel some unpleasant tension in the air.
Graham rose from his seat, bracing his hands on the wooden table, and spoke.
"Mr. Irwin, I have urgent matters to attend to, so..."
Hearing the implied dismissal, the gaunt old man known as Irwin slowly rose and bowed slightly.
"I apologize for taking up so much of your time, Dean Graham."
"But please consider my earlier proposal carefully and convey it to Mr. Derek. After all..."
A sharp glint flashed in Irwin's somewhat cloudy eyes, and the corners of his lips curled upward into a meaningful smile.
"Such things are beyond your control..."
"I understand, Mr. Irwin."
Graham took a deep breath and waved his arm.
"Please!"
After a slight bow, Irwin said no more.
He simply patted his companion, who was still seated, on the shoulder and guided him to turn and leave.
As the door closed and their footsteps faded into the distance, Roland frowned and asked, "Dean Graham, who were they...?"
"Wizards."
Graham sank back into his chair, his entire body sinking into the soft backrest, his voice tinged with weariness.
"According to their own introduction, they came from the legendary High Tower. Ha..."
The Knight Academy Dean chuckled softly and shook his head helplessly.
"As for whether that's true or not, who can say?"
(End of the Chapter)
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