Magician in Type-Moon

Page 563

"So what if one... a lowly member of the Secret Corpse Dissection Bureau dies...?"

"Hartres's disciple? He's insignificant."

“Wasting precious time discussing such trivial matters in the Grand Order decision... only exposes your shortsightedness and incompetence.”

However, it was Weber who responded to him.

"—Doing this makes sense."

A calm yet firm voice rang out in the meeting room.

The one who spoke was not anyone sitting at the round table, but the woman who had been standing quietly behind Aozaki Touko.

Rufreus slowly turned his head, glared at her, and his voice was so low it was almost a curse squeezed out between his teeth:

"Himeko...Hitori..."

"On behalf of the Department of Law and Politics, I would like to make this suggestion."

She spoke with neither humility nor arrogance, her tone cool and aloof.

"The successive misfortunes suffered by Hartres' disciples may have involved shifts in power, which could potentially affect the legitimacy and order of this Grand Order designation."

"you……!"

Rufreus's eyes narrowed, and a shadowy rage surged from his side.

"What exactly are you planning?"

"I haven't made any plans."

Ryori Adano answered calmly, her slender fingers gently pushing up her glasses, her expression as still as a mirror untouched by frost and snow, so calm it was chilling.

Wearing a furisode kimono, she resembled a judgment doll standing on a blank sheet of paper—clear, upright, yet devoid of any human warmth.

Her gaze swept over everyone present—including Weber, Magdana, Olga Marie, and even the monarchs who remained silent.

“Whenever something concerns the very foundation of the clock tower’s order, we have the right and the obligation to take all possible action.”

"Even in the decision-making meetings for the designation of the Grand Master."

"We must also hear the rest of this reasoning."

So──

Rufreus's cloudy eyes slowly turned to the Second Prince, creaking like an ancient, decaying tree in the wind, and he said in a low voice:

"That... despicable puppeteer over there also said... I'm tired of these boring conversations..."

"If you insist on interrupting the Grand Order decision process just for some trivial conspiracy theory... then hurry up and give us your conclusion."

His words were like a dull knife cutting through the air, slow yet full of pressure.

“That guy named Hartles… what exactly do you mean by ‘accomplice’?”

"That's right, we've found the answer."

Weber responded calmly, speaking slowly, yet each syllable carried a gradually approaching pressure.

As he spoke, he glanced around the room, observing the reactions of each attendee:

— Orange raised the corners of her mouth, like an audience member who had finally waited for the climax of the script, and smiled gently with pleasure.

—Hirori Adashino stared at him coldly, without interrupting, but her eyes were clearer than any words.

Magdana leaned back in his chair, seemingly engrossed, and nodded slightly.

—Inole took a sip of tea, his expression calm but clearly his attention had been drawn.

Rufreus still looked annoyed, as if he would rather dance with the dead right now than listen to this nonsense.

Olga Marie was tense all over, her lips were tightly pressed together, and her face was somewhat pale.

—Lydell, on the other hand, seemed completely unmoved from beginning to end, maintaining that perfect poker face.

Everyone's reaction was under control.

If Hartres' accomplice is among them—that person's acting skills are unparalleled.

However, Weber was not swayed by appearances, and he continued in a deep voice:

"Just as we were engaging in various discussions and negotiations surrounding the 'redevelopment of Albion, the Tomb of the Dead'—"

“Deeper within this tomb, in a corner of this ancient heart, Hartres had already secretly begun some kind of ritual.”

As soon as he said that, the atmosphere in the entire conference hall seemed to freeze for a moment.

Orange's smile deepened, as if she heard the pleasant sound of a fire being lit.

Ryori Adashino's eyes flickered slightly, but she didn't say anything more.

But the real change came from what came after that sentence.

Weber paused, his gaze sweeping across the assembled monarchs and their representatives, finally settling on the woman who had yet to speak. Then, he stated clearly:

"—He attempted to 'create a god for magicians' within this spirit tomb, Albion."

These words were like ice water poured into boiling oil, instantly shattering the atmosphere of the entire room.

Ashira's shoulders trembled slightly, and her breath hitched. Although she tried her best to suppress her emotions, her subtle changes in expression did not escape Weber's notice.

He saw it and wrote it down.

Hartres's scheme—

Create a "god who exists for magicians".

Weber revealed the core of this anomaly in one go.

If an ordinary magician heard these remarks, he might just laugh dismissively and scoff.

Indeed, magic is an extraordinary phenomenon—but it also has its limits.

Otherwise, the world today would no longer be a technology-driven modern society, but rather a continuation of the ancient divine age.

Judging by common sense, this statement is nothing more than a wild fantasy.

The wise course of action would be to set aside this absurd fantasy and immediately return to the main topic of the meeting.

But who among those sitting around this round table are believers in "common sense"?

This is a crown decision, the sharpest teeth in the deepest part of the clock tower colliding.

There is no ordinary magician among them.

—Sure enough, Magdana was the first to respond.

He clasped his strong, pillar-like hands together in front of his chest and slowly nodded twice.

The sound, like the steady tolling of a bell, echoed in the council chamber.

"...Quite interesting."

He spoke in a calm tone, as if he were discussing a hypothesis worth studying, rather than a taboo subject.

"A god who exists for magicians... If such an existence can truly be created, then does 'Root' still hold meaning for us?"

"If this plan is true, it is not a dangerous delusion... but rather a remarkable innovation."

His voice was gentle, but every word was sharp and to the point.

From a democratic perspective, this attitude is perfectly natural.

If the created deities can guide magicians to higher levels more quickly, and if the remnants of the mythological era can be recast as tools rather than beliefs—that means more people can embark on the path to their ideals.

For Magdana, it was progress, efficiency, and a leap forward for the entire Magic.

however--

"……Do not."

A single word is enough to freeze the air.

No.

The will to deny did not come from a radical monarch, but rather from the aged, silent, death-like King of the Underworld.

The old man—Lord Rufreus—simply sitting there made the entire hall seem as if it had sunk into a tomb from a thousand years ago.

“…You must be joking.”

His words were like a stone tablet shattering, carrying a weight that had remained unshaken for a thousand years.

"Ignoring all the history that we magicians have accumulated over the past two thousand years..."

"At this point... do you still dare to dream of reviving that ancient, almost cursed, mythical magic form...?"

He slowly raised his eyes, his cloudy gaze sweeping across the conference room, each word burning the air like a sulfurous flame.

"...Ah...in the mountains of the Far East, on the cliffs of the empire's borders...perhaps there are still remnants of that old era..."

"But within this clock tower? At the heart of the magical world... someone actually dares to propose such a perverse act?"

His voice, though not raised, was more intimidating than a roar.

"How can we allow such a thing to exist...!"

This is not an argument, it is an absolute rejection.

It is not a discussion based on rational deduction, but a deep-rooted and unshakable rejection.

Rufreus's path of magic is built on the foundation of "denying divinity" and "abandoning faith".

To him, the so-called "gods" were nothing more than projections of things that magic could not explain, a malignant tumor in history that had to be eradicated.

He will not allow anyone to reintroduce that thing to the throne of magic.

Because he was a monarch, and because he bore the heaviest burden of the ancient traditions of the clock tower—these words were incredibly weighty and could not be ignored.

This denial is stronger than any law or article.

Chapter 606 Standoff (4k)

That's just how magicians do things.

It is not rational, and is even far removed from reality.