Celai Mikardo, the master of the Blue Tower and an 8th-tier magician capable of wielding Origin, could not comprehend the current situation.
“He opened it? How on earth?”
He blinked his eyes, but the scene before him remained unchanged.
Marquis Palatio had opened a door—one that had taken Celai two full years of grueling effort to unlock—in less than 30 seconds. And now, the Marquis was walking through it.
Still stunned, Celai snapped back to his senses and tried to call out to the Marquis. However, by the ti he gathered himself, the man had already crossed the first barrier and disappeared into the interior.
Celai hurried to the now-opened first barrier, inspecting it with disbelief.
To the untrained eye, it appeared as just another wall, but Celai, a magician of his level, understood what lay before him. He knew the incredible complexity required to open this seemingly ordinary passage.
Only a magician of the 8th tier, like himself, could hope to dedicate the ti and energy needed to unlock such a door. Yet there was sothing even more startling:
“…The way it was opened… it’s exactly the sa as how I did it.”
The thod Marquis Palatio had used to unlock the barrier was identical to the one Celai had painstakingly discovered over the course of a year.
“What… is going on?”
Confusion and questions swirled in Celai Mikardo’s mind. He turned to peer further into the passage Marquis Palatio had entered.
While Celai had always harbored so curiosity about the Marquis, the extent of his interest was limited. After all, the man was soone his arrogant disciple, Penia, admired—a man who still used outdated, primitive magic techniques.
But eting the Marquis in person had tempered Celai’s curiosity.
Sure, the rumors and Penia’s actions hinted that the Marquis might be soone extraordinary, but Celai’s first impression of him didn’t align with such lofty expectations.
‘His mana is low, his magical achievents barely scrape the 4th tier, and he hasn’t even awakened his inner eye. Even giving him credit for using primitive magic, he’s still below average.’
The nurous flaws Celai noticed made him regard the Marquis as an inferior magician, a junior lacking in potential.
He even wondered, albeit briefly, what on earth Penia had seen in this man to inspire such fear and admiration.
But these thoughts were fleeting. Celai soon found himself trailing the Marquis, following him to the second barrier.
And there, in front of the second barrier—the one even Celai had yet to breach—stood the Marquis, seemingly lost in thought.
Watching him, Celai hesitated to speak. Instead, he decided to observe, curious about what the Marquis might do.
The second barrier was sothing Celai had never managed to open.
In truth, he doubted whether it was even possible to unlock it.
Like the first barrier, the second looked unremarkable at first glance. But to Celai’s awakened eyes, it revealed itself as a labyrinth of thousands of intricately layered magic circles.
Thousands upon thousands of complex and intertwined magical constructs—so convoluted that even Celai had yet to fully grasp their entirety.
Despite this complexity, Celai’s keen intellect had already deduced the theoretical thod to unlock it:
“Find the key magic circle among the thousands.”
However, he had not yet succeeded in identifying that key.
If the barrier were a literal door, it would be one riddled with tens of thousands of keyholes.
Testing each magic circle individually was practically impossible, as it required unraveling and interpreting thousands of intricately intertwined constructs—a task that would take decades, if not longer.
Celai, recalling this fact, felt a pang of despondence.
And yet, Marquis Palatio—or rather, Alon—turned his head slightly, as if sensing Celai’s interest.
Of course, Alon had no real reason to pay attention to Celai. Building a rapport with the master of the Blue Tower could be useful, but it wasn’t critical to his plans.
Alon’s wariness stemd instead from the peculiar expectation reflected in Celai Mikardo’s eyes.
Earlier, when Alon had opened the first barrier without much thought, Celai had stared at him, mouth agape, his expression utterly incredulous.
Now, Celai was standing just a few paces away, watching him with childlike curiosity, as if waiting for him to perform another miracle.
‘He said it took him a year to open the first door?’
Alon didn’t think Celai Mikardo was foolish.
On the contrary, he found him monstrous.
According to what Alon knew, the two barriers guarding this hermit’s sanctuary were said to be unsolvable by twelve 7th-tier magicians working together for half a year.
For Celai, an 8th-tier magician, to have unlocked the first barrier on his own was a testant to his extraordinary abilities.
Precisely because of this, Alon found the man’s expectant gaze incredibly burdenso.
Alon opened the gates to the Hermit’s Hideout… Simply because he knew the correct answers.
‘The key to the first barrier lies in mana interference. Twist the straight mana flow into a half-circle, and it opens… The second barrier? The key is the fifth magic circle from the top-right diagonal corner.’
With such knowledge, Alon could easily open the doors by rely channeling his mana. Yet, the palpable expectation radiating from Celai behind him made it impossible for him to act without hesitation.
If Alon were to effortlessly open the gate with a re flow of mana, Celai would inevitably realize a bitter truth—that the grueling year of research he had poured into the task had been utterly pointless.
“Hmm…”
Alon didn’t have to care about Celai Mikardo’s emotions. But as soone who studied magic himself, he understood the crushing despair that would co with such a realization.
‘…Should I just use so magic?’
By the ti Alon decided to offer Celai a well-intentioned lie, Celai, observing Alon’s hesitation, began to interpret it as a struggle.
‘Perhaps the second barrier is more challenging for him, after all?’
The flicker of expectation in Celai’s eyes faded as he tried to temper his own hopes.
And then, in that mont—
“Hoo…”
Marquis Palatio let out a small sigh and ford a seal with his hands.
Celai, intrigued, watched intently. Although he had heard that the Marquis used primitive magic, this was the first ti he had seen it in practice.
As he carefully observed Alon’s technique, he noticed the Marquis murmuring sothing faintly under his breath. Then, a small orb ford between Alon’s thumb and forefinger.
Celai felt it imdiately.
“What…?”
A primal sense of danger surged through Celai Mikardo. Instinctively, he furrowed his brow and began to gather mana to cast a defensive spell. His reaction was nearly instantaneous—a reflexive response.
But then—
“!”
What Celai saw stopped him in his tracks.
Behind Alon, hovering in the air, were two enormous, unblinking eyes.
Celai’s thoughts froze—or rather, he forcibly stopped them.
The mont he perceived those eyes, the mont they registered in his vision, he realized sothing undeniable:
Understanding what lay before him would lead only to one possible outco—death.
The one thing Celai couldn’t prepare for, however, was his own eyes.
Having reached the 8th tier, his vision was honed to intuitively discern nearly anything it perceived. Unlike his mind, his eyes continued to analyze the phenonon on instinct.
And then, it began.
The world around Celai darkened.
When his gaze finally focused, he saw it:
A circular abyss—a void so profound it seed to pull his very being into its depths.
What followed was a flash of pale pupils within that darkness.
The last thing he saw was—
“Kugh…”
—A massive eye.
A colossal presence so overwhelming it reduced him to an insignificant speck.
It was looking directly at him.
‘I’m going to die.’
The realization struck him, and for a brief, hollow mont, Celai’s mind blanked.
Then—
KUGUGUGUGUNG!!!
A thunderous sound roared in his ears.
“!”
Snapping back to his senses, Celai looked ahead.
There it was.
The second barrier, which had resisted all his efforts for over a year, was now slowly creaking open, the heavy door grinding against itself.
Beyond the opening stood Marquis Palatio, looking back at him.
His expression was devoid of emotion—utterly indifferent.
“…Ha.”
Seeing this, Celai Mikardo let out a dry laugh, almost involuntarily.
‘He’s been hiding his true power all along. That’s what it was…!’
***
Even though it lasted less than a second, the re act of witnessing it had left Celai Mikardo’s mana in disarray and his hands trembling uncontrollably as he tried to cast his magic.
And yet, he couldn’t stop laughing.
Even with the shadow of death looming so close, his laughter refused to cease.
It was his unrelenting curiosity that kept him going.
The sa insatiable drive that had elevated him to beco the master of the Blue Tower and an 8th-tier magician.
Now, that very curiosity was captivated by the overwhelming magical knowledge that Marquis Palatio clearly possessed, knowledge that surely concealed power far greater than what Celai had just glimpsed.
And so, Celai laughed.
Watching this reaction, Alon, the Marquis, couldn’t help but think:
‘…Wait, is he actually enjoying this?’
In the middle of using his magic, Alon had thought, ‘Surely, as an 8th-tier magician, Celai Mikardo wouldn’t be fooled by sothing as superficial as this simple demonstration.’
Yet there he was—beaming radiantly, as though delighted beyond words. Alon found himself montarily stunned by the unexpected sight.
***
Having passed the second barrier, Alon finally stepped into the inner chamber of the Hermit’s Hideout.
The interior was underwhelming—dimly lit, resembling the simple interior of a rustic, fantasy-style dwelling nestled within a cave.
But Alon hadn’t co for the scenery. Without hesitation, he approached a desk tucked into the corner of the sanctuary.
And there, he found what he sought.
“Got it.”
Unlike the dark bracelet he had obtained before, this ti, the object was a bracelet painted pure white—the *White Hand of the Wanderer*. Alon placed it carefully into his belongings, allowing himself a brief smile.
Then—
“?”
He noticed a piece of parchnt on the desk, inscribed in an ancient language. Lowering his gaze, he read the text:
—To the half-hearted magician who refused to compromise, who did not forget the forgotten words… I leave behind my legacy.
Alon paused.
The phrasing struck him as familiar—it was nearly identical to what he had encountered when acquiring the .
“Hmm…”
After staring at the parchnt for a while, Alon shrugged and set it back down.
As he turned, his gaze fell upon Celai Mikardo, who was still smiling—brightly, almost uncomfortably so.
Slightly unnerved, Alon addressed him:
“I’ve taken everything I needed. If there’s anything you want, Master of the Blue Tower, feel free to take it.”
In truth, there was little of magical value left behind; no books or texts on magic were anywhere to be seen.
“Is that so? Then I’ll graciously accept,” Celai replied, walking toward the desk Alon had just vacated.
There, he noticed the parchnt Alon had briefly inspected. Picking it up, Celai realized it was written in an ancient language he couldn’t read. Without a word, he quietly tucked it away.
Under normal circumstances, he might have asked Alon about it. However, Celai interpreted the Marquis’s act of leaving it behind as a subtle ssage—perhaps a silent request to let the matter rest.
‘He likely wants to keep this to myself.’
Believing that questioning Alon would yield no answers, Celai decided to take the parchnt to the Master of the Red Tower, who was known for his expertise in deciphering ancient texts.
Celai’s thoughts drifted. Despite the parchnt’s content, what he truly wanted was to converse with Alon about magic.
His curiosity was not sothing that could simply be stifled.
And so—
‘…I’ll need to find a way to get closer to him.’
As Celai pondered how to bridge the gap, an idea struck him.
“Ah, Penia!”
Rembering his disciple, Celai suddenly understood why the arrogant Penia had been so enamored with Marquis Palatio.
It didn’t take long for him to devise a plan:
‘Rather than remaining strangers, wouldn’t it be easier to get closer to him if he were my disciple’s husband?’
Whether he was prioritizing his disciple or his own insatiable curiosity was unclear.
But one thing was certain:
‘I’ll make sure this works.’
Filled with determination, Celai looked at Alon with an intensity that could almost be described as fiery.
***
“…Why do I feel uneasy?”
Seeing Celai’s expression shift into sothing oddly determined—his laughter now bordering on unsettling—Alon couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding.
Sothing strange was brewing, and Alon could feel it.
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