Magician in Type-Moon

Page 562

Lingli calmly echoed, her voice like icy water, carrying an unwavering determination.

A silence instantly filled the air. This silence didn't stem from astonishment, but from a profound realization—

It's not just something that might happen, but something that has already happened.

Everyone knows that someone like Orange could potentially gain the approval of those in power under any circumstances, through her own methods.

This fact is enough to weigh heavily on everyone's mind.

"You're still the same as always, taking on jobs from those weird places."

Inole raised one eyebrow, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible contempt, but more so a familiarity with Orange and a touch of helplessness.

"Because I received excellent guidance from my teachers."

Orange made no attempt to hide her confidence, responding with ease, as if she had already anticipated the direction of this conversation.

The Second Prince couldn't help but think of the relationship between the two. Orange and Inolai had established a teacher-student relationship since their student days.

When Orange was added to the list of those designated for sealing, it was Enola who first offered her support.

The relationship between the two is deeply imbued with the spirit of magicians, reflecting both mutual recognition of each other's abilities and a complex mix of emotions.

Rufreus's silence was like the bottom of a boiling pot, finally erupting with a deep sigh.

"...Which company...is the client...?"

"The Curse Department 'Gigumalei'...or rather, the representative of neutralism."

Orange nodded slightly, her tone relaxed yet carrying an undeniable air of confidence.

"Therefore, I will also participate in this Grand Order decision with official voting rights. Ah, I hope you can rest assured. Of course, I do not have the voting rights of the other neutral factions. Even if I did, you probably wouldn't recognize them."

She calmly sat down on the chair next to her and easily adjusted her posture.

That chair was originally designed for the monarchs of the twelve families, but now, it has naturally been given to Orange, this "wandering freelancer".

This position was originally intended for the true center of power, but now it is occupied by an "outsider".

The female magician from the Department of Law and Politics stood quietly behind Orange, a smile on her face, like a guardian hidden behind her.

She stood perfectly still, neither out of place nor impolite, as if always ready to react to the situation around her at any moment.

Just like the role that Ashira plays behind Lord Tramberg – seemingly inconspicuous, yet extremely dangerous, harboring a deadly threat.

"......"

The Second Prince frowned slightly; he seemed to hear some kind of deep sound—

From a power perspective, Aozaki Touko is undoubtedly insignificant.

She was just a wandering, free magician, lacking reliable support. Even if she stood here, her voice would hardly be recognized by most people inside the clock tower.

However, precisely because of this, Orange's words and stance should not be underestimated. In this vortex of power struggle, her very presence is a threat.

However, in terms of pure magic, Orange's identity is completely different.

As a Grand Magician, she surpasses most of the monarchs in the Clock Tower who are qualified to sit at this round table in terms of magical rank.

Her magical power and skills were enough to make her stand out in this meeting.

Although she did not hold a prominent position in the game of power, her existence was destined to have an impact on this issue.

On the issue of redeveloping Albion, both aristocracy and democracy are striving to ensure that magicians can get closer to the mystical.

However, the means required to achieve this goal cannot ignore her opinion.

Orange not only represents a neutral voice, but her stance also presents a necessary consideration for those forces keen on redevelopment.

All of this makes her involvement seem increasingly impossible to ignore.

This is a basic tactic in political debates. However, it is rarely used so successfully in the context of a grand rank decision.

Magdana urged impatiently:

"...Then, Mr. Rufreus, please continue with the previous topic."

However, just as Rufreus was about to speak, Orange suddenly waved her fair hand lightly, her tone cold and slightly provocative:

"Ugh, ugh, we've talked enough about that boring, sleep-inducing topic."

"What did you say!" Olga Marie glared, her voice sharp and angry. Her gaze seemed to burn with fire, piercing straight at Orange, clearly unable to tolerate her contemptuous words.

However, Orange merely shrugged slightly, a playful smile on her face, and said calmly:

"Anyway, isn't it just that old, boring clash between aristocracy and democracy? Is it about arguing whether to include the new generation in the clock tower and continue to expand its territory, or to simply shrink the clock tower, be frugal, and take the old path of cost-saving? To put it bluntly, this kind of debate ultimately comes down to personal interest."

She paused, seemingly a little impatient.

“I would like to hear other, more insightful perspectives—after all, we’ve all come together here, we can’t just be discussing these trivial, old clichés.”

Chapter 605 Showdown (4k)

"Hmm, it's a good time to start here."

Weber picked up where Orange left off, deliberately slowing down his speech and speaking with a steady pace, trying to guide the entire audience.

His gaze slowly swept across the people around the round table from one side, as if to confirm that their attention was now entirely focused on him.

"Ladies and gentlemen—do you remember Dr. Hartley, the former Dean of the Department of Modern Magic, 'Norwich'?"

This was not an unfamiliar name, yet it was like a pebble thrown into water, creating subtle ripples in the expressions of everyone present.

"...Unfortunately, I've only heard of this name."

Olga Marie frowned slightly, as if recalling an old part of her life. "He had already been gone for many years when I first came into contact with the clock tower."

Weber glanced at her impassively, his tone unchanged, and continued speaking.

“Over the past few months, Dr. Hartrace’s students have been disappearing one after another. Not just one, but more than two. Miss Ashira, you must know about this, right? After all, one of them—your colleague, Karl G. Israel—has been confirmed dead at the Department of Autopsy. The manner of his death… was extremely unnatural.”

"Yes, I did examine the scene."

Ryori Hideyuki nodded quietly, her voice completely still, yet her tone seemed to contain some unspoken meaning.

The original stance and motives of this beautiful magician with a background in law and political science remain unclear.

It is rumored that she and Hartress were both raised at Norwich College, which may be why she took the initiative to get involved in the case... Whether it was to investigate or for some other purpose remains to be seen.

Weber paused briefly, giving everyone present time to process the information, before uttering a heavy sentence in an almost calm, cold tone:

"My personal judgment is that the mastermind behind these disappearances is Dr. Hartrace himself."

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

"...Oh, that guy?"

Inole murmured to himself, as if recalling a name that had long since faded away.

Do you have any leads?

Weber turned his head to look at her.

“No, I’m just surprised.” Inola waved her hand, a faint, bitter smile appearing on her lips.

"Back then, he was indeed very protective of his disciples. At least in my eyes, he didn't seem like a magician who would destroy his disciples with his own hands."

Her voice carried a hint of regret from someone who was getting old, but she had no intention of defending Hartres.

However, these words themselves are quite tricky. After all, when Hartress stepped down ten years ago, Weber was just an unknown student. His memories of that period are almost blank.

At this moment, Magdana suddenly turned his head and asked another monarch in a tentative tone:

"By the way, Mr. Rufreus. You seemed to have quite a bit of contact with the Norwich Department back then. Do you have any thoughts on that?"

"...What's the point of wasting time paying attention to...a department head who isn't even a monarch..."

The old man refused without hesitation, his tone extremely harsh, as if even thinking about the question was superfluous.

That stubborn and arrogant aura was as heavy as cold iron; it was enough to deter any further questions without needing to say a word.

His attitude has not changed; it has been the same for decades.

For modern magicians who did not yet have Grand Titles at the time, Rufreus didn't even bother with the word "contact".

"Ah...so what if those useless new generation masters and disciples kill each other? What does it have to do with me?"

Rufreus uttered the words slowly, his voice like a decaying incantation rising from the depths of time, carrying a weariness and indifference that chilled even the air. "Are you planning to waste precious meeting time on such trivial matters, El-Melloi…?"

"No, old Mr. Rufreus."

Weber stood ramrod straight, his tone unwavering. "This matter is by no means unrelated—because Hartres is an accomplice lurking in this vote for the Grand Order designation."

"...Heh...he ...

An ancient laugh, seemingly emanating from the depths of a tomb, rang out. It was Rufreus's reaction, unhurried yet chilling.

Lord Euryphus, the monarch who controls the Spirit Conjuring Department.

His laughter was like a cold underground wind blowing from beneath the tomb of Albion, involuntarily conjuring images of decaying bones, withered souls, and slumbering ancient rituals.

"...You actually...uttered the word 'prisoner' in front of all the monarchs..."

He spoke slowly, but each syllable was like a stone hitting the ground, "Heh...heh...you've got guts, kid...but once the words are out, it's too late to take them back..."

"Of course."

Weber nodded without hesitation, his voice firm.

Rufreus stared at him as if trying to swallow him whole into a thousand years of silence—however, a few seconds later, he suddenly turned his gaze away.

"...No...there's absolutely no need to listen..."

His tone suddenly turned somber, as if he refused to listen to any whispers that might shake his decision.

He slowly turned his stern gaze to the other side of the round table, and gestured with his hand:

"McGandana... please continue hosting."

"This is not an occasion for people to imitate detectives and presumptuously make deductive statements..."

The atmosphere seemed to freeze for a moment. Rufreus did not explicitly deny or respond to the suspicions against him, but instead used his status and intimidation to forcefully change the subject.

In a detective novel, such a reaction would undoubtedly be seen as an attempt to cover up the truth, but this is not fiction—this is the real-life "Clock Tower."

There are no laws or rules requiring them to listen to the truth presented by a certain "speaker" at the meeting.