anwhile, on Earth. London.
Ancient fog still shrouded the city. Lying between reality and illusion, invisible to ordinary eyes, the Clock Tower—the magi's great hall—was rooted here like a sleeping beast.
At its core, in the council chamber called "Star Room," the twelve Lords gazed coldly upon the scene before them. There was no long table, but a giant celestial sphere made of flawless diamond and sapphire, casting a dark blue glow. Within, not stars—but a vivid, real-ti vision of Steve's revolutionary speech at SIDE 3.
This was not mundane technology, but the highest magical ans of remote viewing, reconstructing "events" across space and ti by direct ether observation. The room vibrated with the frenzied cheers of distant colonies, echoing through this "sacred" space.
Finally, an elderly female Lord in classic court dress—Inorai Valualeta Atroholm, one of the Three Noble Families—gave a disdainful snort:
"How marvelous... What an ugly farce."
She covered her mouth with a gloved hand, unable to conceal her contempt.
"Humans are just a swarm in a petri dish, thrown into the greatest expanse only to devour each other over scraps of nutrition. Let them go—let them fight and bleed dry. It cleans Earth, saves us from the trouble of cleaning up."
Her words embodied mainstream Clock Tower ideology: the surface world is but a show, its death matches re ant fights. They savor mortal chaos.
Because of the weak, infighting human society, there was no ti to monitor the "Mysteries."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple, Lord Valualeta,"
A worn but clear voiced rebuttal ca from the dark—a tall, long-haired man with a green-lit cigar between his fingers. This was Lord El-lloi II.
Valualeta was displeased:
"Oh? Lord El-lloi, what do you an?
You fear that a war between humans—without even magic circuits—could shake our Foundation?"
"Not 'fear,'" El-lloi replied, exhaling a smoky star chart, "but scale.
This isn't tribal or national; it's the first ti humanity has split itself between planet and cosmos.
If 90% declares war on 10%—that kind of 'karma' and rational sea-change could even shake our 'foundation' here."
He glanced gravely at his image within the sphere.
"Then there's the 'concept.'
Note the words he used—'New Human.' He's redefining 'human.'
He defines 'freedom from gravity' as the next step in evolution; 'cosmic residents' as higher beings.
This is very, very dangerous... If n start to consider 'evolution' as spiritual power, the superiority magi inherit through blood, magic crest, and Mystery will be fundantally challenged.
"Lastly and most urgent: 'concealnt.' A full-scale war inevitably ends on Earth.
Imagine 'railguns' crashing from the sky—fusion flashes vaporizing whole cities.
Our prized leylines, torn asunder, our magical foundation, destroyed.
When that happens, 'the Mystery' will have nowhere to hide, and we are exposed at last to the New Human's scrutiny!"
The room fell grave. Valualeta was visibly shaken—she had never thought in these terms.
At that point, a voice cold as zero cut through the room:
"Enough."
It was the woman on the highest throne: Bartholoi Lorelei, "Queen of the Clock Tower"—a symbol of ultimate authority in Law and Governance, clad in pure white, with sleek flaxen hair and dispassionate brown eyes, radiating the absolute dignity of a deity.
Ignoring the previous spat, she stared fixedly at Steve's projected image.
"All information on this Steve Weis—bring it now."
An unquestionable order.
El-lloi II responded at once:
"He appeared over thirty years ago—like a red cot—using business and technology rather than magecraft to rapidly build the ODG multinational, then led the space migration project.
Investigations found his origins entirely blank, as if born anew.
No magic circuits, pure 'human.'"
Lorelei's brow furrowed imperceptibly:
"Could a re human really mastermind such fraud and shake civilization's foundations?
I refuse to believe it."
She looked away:
"And the 'Sion' of Atlas—the one missing for 28 years?
This revolution's technical background, whether opinion-shaping or information networks, stinks of Atlas alchemy."
As the words left her mouth, El-lloi II's face shifted. If human war was just "trouble," Atlas Academy's involvent imdiately elevated it to "catastrophe."
Lorelei rose; her magical presence solidified the room. The final decision was hers:
"The Clock Tower's policy is non-interference in human wars. But it will never tolerate 'roots' threatening the Mystery.
Law and Politics are to dispatch their highest Sealing Designation Executors—penetrate SIDE 3.
Three tasks:
Fully investigate Steve Weis's origins; see if connected to the Root.
Collect and analyze 'New Human' samples. If indeed a new superpower, seal at once.
Confirm Atlas Institute involvent; if true, treat as outright declaration of war.
Upon threat confirmation—grant permission for 'final cleansing.'
Eliminate the most dangerous 'seeds' before the war of man contaminates our gardens."
With her words, Lorelei vanished from the throne. Only El-lloi II's solemn face and Valualeta's gloom remained.
The ancient gears of the Clock Tower, rusted though they were, had begun to turn once more—this ti, with Steve as their first target, the herald of a new age.
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