The next day.
Before eting the master of the magic tower, Alia and Paulen decided to first visit the church near the villa.
Before they left the house, Paulen said to Alia in a playful tone.
“Getting served als personally made by the Saintess for both dinner and breakfast. I’m worried I might beco the target of the followers’ jealousy at this rate.”
“There’s no way any follower would harbor such feelings toward a paladin, you know?"
'Even though you were picking your teeth with a toothpick like you thoroughly enjoyed the al…'
Alia recalled the way Paulen had eaten.
No matter how many tis she replayed it in her head, she couldn’t find a trace of reverence in his behavior.
“Hahaha! Anyone would get jealous after tasting your delicious cooking, Alia. Don’t you think so too, Jiggly?”
'Jealous? Why?'
The sli tilted its body in confusion, unable to grasp the aning of Paulen’s words.
Even though it had read several books at the Ludendion count’s estate and understood the concept of jealousy, it couldn’t easily associate it with food.
“Please don’t say strange things to Jiggly. Anyway, let’s get going.”
“Understood, Alia.”
Just like at the church before, Alia held the sli in both hands and stepped outside with Paulen.
“Ah! Saintess! And Paladin Paulen! It’s truly an honor to et you both!”
The priest in charge of the church at the magic tower greeted Alia and Paulen with a voice full of emotion.
Since priests who weren’t stationed in the holy city rarely had the chance to see the Saintess or a Paladin in person, it was only natural for him to be deeply moved.
“Please, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to co find . I’ll do my utmost to assist you!”
Alia felt slightly overwheld by the sparkling eyes staring at her with admiration.
Of course, that sense of pressure stemd from her own self-doubt—was she really soone worthy of such looks?
Even so, she understood all too well the heart of soone who looked at others with eyes full of respect, admiration, and hope.
“Thank you for your sentint. I’ll be sure to rely on you when the ti cos.”
Alia gave the answer that the priest wanted to hear—one she herself had longed to hear in the past.
“Yes!”
Watching the scene, Paulen found himself reaffirming the sa thought again and again.
‘Understanding the hearts of others and acting on it—that’s one of the reasons you’re truly a Saintess, Alia.’
After exchanging brief greetings with the priest and followers, Alia, Paulen, and the sli made their way toward the magic tower.
***
‘At last, the ti has co.’
In a secret workshop located sowhere on the continent of Derxia—
There sat Troll.
Ventus Frail, a lich and forr Sage of Magic, composed himself as he watched the broadcast screen.
Ever since hearing the news that the sli was going to et the master of the magic tower, Troll had tried to calm his heart through ditation, but ever since they arrived at the tower, he had been unable to stay composed.
First, seeing his descendant, Gracie Frail, who was dressed like a doped-up tool wizard, grated on him as soone loyal to the Natural Magic faction.
Especially since Gracie’s appearance was the spitting image of his cousin in her younger days—his cousin, who had also practiced natural magic—it felt like watching her fall from grace into a corrupted state, and it tornted him.
– Tis change. Maybe it’s just a passing trend! It’ll blow over!
Troll kept rationalizing, trying desperately to calm his troubled mind.
However, after Gracie left, and Paulen calmly strolled with the sli through the streets, even that rationalization crumbled.
– “Trend,” my ass!
There were indeed more shops dealing in magical tools than there had been during Troll’s ti at the magic tower.
But none of the magicians walking the streets were decked out in magic tools the way Gracie was.
At most, one or two rings or necklaces, tops.
That’s why the image of his own bloodline disgracefully flaunting such gaudy artifacts kept replaying in his mind and tornting him.
– Aaaaaargh!
Even before facing his mortal enemy Brooks, Troll let out a scream inside his workshop.
Of course, that didn’t an he continued to suffer endlessly.
On the journey to slay the black dragon, he had faced hardships far worse than this.
Troll eventually managed to calm himself and recover.
‘I don’t like it… Not one bit… but! That decision was made by Gracie—my own descendant. I can’t just lash out in anger… Ugh! When I et her in person, I’ll find out what’s going on in that head of hers!’
His pride as a Natural Magic user gave Troll a new goal.
The image on the screen changed, now showing the group heading to the magic tower after saying a quick farewell at the church.
And at the entrance to the magic tower—
“Good morning! Saintess! Paladin! Leave everything to , Gracie Frail—the proud descendant of Sage of Magic!”
Gracie Frail was waiting for them.
Grrrrrrrrrr!
Troll suppressed the rising urge of the boor Natural Magic faction within and kept watching the screen.
Following Gracie’s lead, they entered the tower.
▶ So many cloth-wrapped humans.
▶ Excuse , it’s not cloth—it’s called a ro~~be~~.
▶ How do you even know that?
▶ Watching the broadcast, duh? You didn’t hear them call it a robe? lolololol
[Just Slam First] So this is the nest of those weird water-and-fire-shooting humans?
[Thread-Lady] ▶ Doesn’t look all that cute~ What a sha~.
‘This place… It hasn’t changed at all.’
Unlike the other monsters who were fascinated by their first sight of the magic tower, Troll felt nostalgic.
Magicians walking by, wearing robes color-coded to match their elental affinities.
Shady-looking mages muttering research notes to themselves even while walking alone.
Mages giggling to themselves as they visualized new spells in their heads.
Apprentices with dark circles under their eyes, shuffling like zombies after pulling all-nighters to finish assignnts from their masters.
It was a scene nearly identical to the one from fifty years ago.
But for Alia, who was seeing the magic tower for the first ti, such a scene only evoked anxiety and concern.
“Um… Uh… Miss Gracie?”
“Yes! Saintess! Is there sothing you’d like to ask?”
“Um… Are those people over there okay? They look like they might need treatnt.”
Gracie responded to Alia’s question with a bright smile and waved her hand.
"Co now, there’s no need for treatnt. Scenes like that are quite common in the magic tower."
“Q-quite common, you say?”
“To outsiders, it may seem a little strange, but everyone’s fine, so don’t worry.”
“I see.”
Alia nodded, trying her best to understand.
BOOOOM!
“Who did that?!”
“NOOO! That was my brand-new Divine Revolution spell!”
“Exploded again! It’s Ikperge’s lab this ti!”
“How many tis has it been now?!”
“Everyone who researches explosion magic is the sa!”
“Soone go alert the church!”
“Is that really okay?”
“That’s just a typical magical accident that happens from ti to ti here. We’ve already sent word to the church—soone will be coming to treat the wounded.
Let’s go et the tower master for now!”
“We should go where the explosion happened.”
“W-what? But…”
Even though Alia often struggled with low self-esteem and could be shy when alone—
“Let’s go.”
When soone needed healing, she could act with firm resolve.
Gracie, flustered like a scolded child, broke into a cold sweat and answered imdiately.
“Y-yes, of course!”
Watching this, Troll thought—
‘Presia… you left behind a fine successor.’
Troll, who had once been the Saintess’s companion, could see Presia’s reflection in Alia.
***
Led by Gracie, Alia headed toward the site of the explosion.
Though no one had died in the magical accident, one injured mage was healed before they moved on to the tower master’s room.
‘Don’t let the hatred boil over. Stay calm. I’ve seen how acting rashly leads to disaster.’
As they approached the tower master’s chamber, Troll repeated this to himself over and over, trying to prevent a possible outburst.
Then, the door opened.
“Welco to the magic tower. Saintess Alia, Paladin Paulen. I am Brooks Vessilja, the current master of the tower.”
The sorcerer who had betrayed him.
The one who tried to kill him under the guise of an accident, and laughed at him in the end—
Seeing Brooks Vessilja again, Troll…
– Pwahahahaha! What is this?! What happened to you?!
Burst into laughter.
More than any lingering hatred or boiling rage—
The sheer contrast between the Brooks Vessilja from his mory and the one standing before him now left Troll unable to hold back his laughter.
– You’ve gone completely bald! Brooks! Pwahahahaha!
Unlike the image he rembered—of a man with flowing, thick hair—Brooks now had a smooth, shiny head.
And not just that.
His long, drooping beard also fed Troll’s laughter.
Troll rembered all too well.
How much pride Brooks had in his hair.
He had grown it all the way to his back, quite long for a man, and had a habit of flipping it around.
Even while casting spells, he worried about it getting singed, and if another wizard’s spell so much as grazed it, he would explode in anger.
And on top of that, Troll recalled a comnt Brooks once made while gossiping about a senior mage with a long beard.
“What’s so great about a beard? If you’re going to grow sothing, it should be your hair, like . A beard just makes you look ssy.”
That had been mocking and derisive.
Why? Because all the senior mages with long beards were bald!
Brooks had been the kind of man who ridiculed bald n with his own luscious hair.
And yet…
Now he had no trace of that once-glorious hair, and had grown the very beard he once scoffed at.
– Oh my god, my stomach! Pwah! Ha! Hahahaha!
Troll laughed so hard he could feel pain in a stomach he didn’t even have anymore.
Thanks to this unexpected transformation of his enemy, the violent outburst of hatred and fury that Troll had feared never ca.
anwhile—
Sparkle sparkle!
Unlike Troll, the sli was genuinely fascinated by the tower master’s shiny head.
Because among all the human heads it had seen so far, Brooks’s was by far the smoothest and most lustrous.
It had seen bald people before, but none that glead like Brooks.
“It’s an honor to et you, Tower Master Brooks Vessilja.
I’m Alia, the next Saintess.”
“I’m Paladin Paulen, charged with her protection. It’s an honor to et you.”
After the formal greetings, Brooks Vessilja stroked his beard and spoke.
“It’ll only be for a month, but I look forward to working with you. People here often get injured due to their intense passion for study.”
“Yes. I can see that.”
“Hmm? Ah, Gracie. Did sothing happen on the way here?”
“Yes, Tower Master. Senior Ikperge’s lab exploded, and the Saintess healed him.”
“You’ve already been of help. Thank you kindly, Saintess Alia.”
“No need. I only did what I should have.”
With the formalities now over, Brooks glanced at Gracie and said—
“If you need anything in the tower, just call for Gracie.
She’ll gladly assist you.”
“Eh? Tower Master? But I have research ti too…”
“The descendant of a great hero assisting the heir of another—how touching is that? Hohoho.”
‘Ventus’s descendant playing assistant to the next Saintess… what a sight.’
“...Yes, sir.”
Gracie gave an awkward smile and followed Brooks’s order.
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