Chapter 66: Professor... hehe...
Royal Capital. Clavena Manor. Training Ground.
It was early morning.
A beam of blue light descended slowly over the Training Ground. As the Formation gradually lit up, Viktor rose from within it.
He looked around at the familiar scene.
The Maidservants had already begun their work at this early hour. When they saw Viktor appear at the Training Ground, they each nodded to him from a respectful distance, and Viktor acknowledged them one by one.
No one knew Viktor had been gone the entire night.
After Viktor moved on, several Maidservants gathered together and quietly started chatting among themselves:
"Has anyone else noticed—the Master is so handso and so young."
"I know, right, the Master's skin is just really, really good too."
They chattered away cheerfully, and without realizing it, a flush of red crept across each of their faces.
"And Mr. Viktor is already a Count!"
"I think that was yesterday's news—I only just heard it too!"
Everyone was very invested in Viktor's elevation in rank, and these Maidservants even felt a certain pride in being employed in the household of a Count.
The status of a Count and a Viscount were simply not the sa.
Viktor could now recruit his own Private Soldiers directly.
Though there were already so within the Clavena Territory, those were there to protect the Territory's security.
Viktor had now gained the right to recruit a unit of family Knights directly at his own Manor in the Royal Capital.
If he weren't worried about disrupting Helnersen's work, he'd have considered bringing Helnersen over to the Royal Capital outright.
A subordinate that powerful—who wouldn't be envious?
But there were many matters within the Territory that required Helnersen. After all, he was the Clavena Steward—coming to manage the comparatively modest affairs of the Royal Capital Manor would be sothing of a downgrade.
Weija yawned on Viktor's shoulder. It too had gone the whole night without sleep, and was thoroughly exhausted.
"I have to say—where exactly does that bizarrely well-developed combat experience of yours even co from?"
Weija knew that the soul inside Viktor had been replaced, but Viktor's effortless command of spellcasting had always led it to believe that Viktor must have been a staggeringly powerful Mage in his previous life.
And then Viktor had gone and shattered that assumption once again.
How was one supposed to explain this refined close-combat technique?
Viktor paid Weija no attention.
If circumstances had allowed, he could have given Weija a full demonstration of the playstyle of every single class.
Viktor reached the entrance, where a Maidservant who had been waiting quietly caught sight of him and hurried over, presenting a letter with both hands:
"Master, your letter."
The letter radiated a noticeable aura of Magic Power. Viktor glanced at it, took the letter, and gave a small nod.
He took the letter back to the Study first. After closing the door, he looked it over carefully.
The complexity of this Magic and its level of Magic Power were both extraordinarily high.
Even an ordinary 3rd-Tier Mage—even if capable of unraveling the magical puzzle—would lack the Magic Power to open this letter.
This was a magical puzzle set by a genuinely formidable 4th-Tier elder Mage.
"Weija."
Hearing Viktor call its na, Weija rolled its eyes.
"Honestly—can't you tell I'm exhausted?"
Grumbling aside, Weija still identified the letter's vulnerability for Viktor.
"See this cluster of Runes? Exactly—several fragnts are missing here. Fill them in."
"And this line here—the direction and the path are completely wrong. Fix it."
"And over here..."
With Weija's extensive guidance, the difficult magical puzzle was broken through in short order.
When Viktor embedded the final Rune, the letter lit up with a blue glow.
Correspondingly, Viktor's Magic Power plumted by more than half.
It had nearly drained him dry.
Viktor paid it little mind and opened the letter, pulling out a single blank sheet of white paper from within.
He turned it over and over, and found nothing written on it whatsoever.
When Viktor moved to activate it with Magic, a phantom figure materialized from the white paper and spoke:
"I must say, this is quite surprising, Lord Viktor. Your mastery of Magic commands my deepest admiration."
"This magical puzzle was set collectively by many 4th-Tier Mages of the Council. You have proven your formidable reputation entirely well-earned."
Whatever the words said, a barely detectable undercurrent of shock ran through the phantom Mage's voice.
They had anticipated that Viktor would be able to unravel this magical puzzle—but they had absolutely not anticipated that Viktor would do so in under 5 minutes.
By their original reckoning, even if Rashel Azure-Blue herself had co, she would have spent at least half a day working through this puzzle.
"Alright."
Viktor, listening to the other party's flattery, cut them off before they could continue, and said coldly:
"Say what you ca to say."
The phantom Mage froze for a mont—perhaps not expecting Viktor to show so little regard—and gave 2 quiet coughs.
No wonder, then, that so many people said Viktor's reputation was poor.
The phantom elder Mage began slowly, stating the purpose of the visit:
"I speak solely on behalf of the Mage Council to extend an invitation to Lord Viktor to join our ranks."
"As a 4th-Tier Mage, you are more than worthy of a personal invitation from us."
Viktor's fingers drumd against the table. He completely disregarded the invitation and asked flatly:
"What's in it for ?"
"Naturally, you would receive every benefit comnsurate with a 4th-Tier Mage."
The phantom replied with a smile—and got a cold, derisive laugh from Viktor in return.
"Empty promises."
The other side went visibly awkward, unable to find an answer for a mont.
Then Viktor laid out his own terms:
"I want full access rights to the Magic Archive."
The phantom paused noticeably, as though startled by Viktor's audacity.
A profound curiosity stirred within it.
Why—how—did Viktor know of the Magic Archive's existence?
And yet, Viktor's demands were only just beginning.
"I want a staff made from a unicorn's horn, the tail of a 4th-Tier magic dragon, and the wood of a hundred-year-old pagoda tree."
"A robe crafted from the scales of a 4th-Tier Golden Jade Dragon, combined with on-spider silk and Magic Stone powder."
The Mage on the other end was struck speechless by Viktor's demands.
Every single one of these materials was a top-tier rarity.
Not only were they extraordinarily expensive, but the ingredients themselves were nearly impossible to obtain.
Dragons were not exactly commonplace stock.
The phantom had no face, and yet Viktor could still read from its pauses all the bewildernt and difficulty it was experiencing.
"Lord Viktor, forgive my candor—what you are asking for..."
"If you won't agree to it, then I have no reason to join the Mage Council either."
With that, fla kindled in Viktor's hand.
The phantom Mage was taken aback. It stared at the fla in Viktor's hand and continued:
"This letter has been treated with special materials. Ordinary fla cannot burn..."
But Viktor very quickly showed it what a genuine surprise looked like.
One edge of the letter suddenly caught fire, and the fla began spreading upward.
The phantom Mage froze in place, staring dumbstruck as what appeared to be a ferociously intense blaze consud the letter.
All it could do was stand there numbly and listen as Viktor's voice fell once more:
"1 day. Give your answer."
"Rember—my terms remain exactly as stated."
The letter burned to ash in short order, and the phantom's voice was cut off abruptly.
With the irritating noise gone, Viktor settled calmly into his chair.
Weija watched him lounging there so unhurriedly, and posed the question that had been on its mind.
"What kind of place is the City of Mages?"
It had first heard the na in Rashel's Sea of Knowledge.
It had ant to ask about it then, and had always had a feeling it was a rather interesting place.
Hearing Weija's question, Viktor's thoughts drifted back.
The City of Mages—also known as the Sky City: Endymion.
It was the paradise that every Mage Player dread of reaching.
It housed an enormous Magic Archive of indeterminate size, its interior a labyrinth of shelves stocked with Magic of every conceivable kind.
Only Mage Players with sufficient Contribution could study there, the genuinely powerful, true-form spells that ordinary Mages could never access.
There was even a chance to study Magic of the 5th Tier and above.
Endymion belonged to no nation.
It was a place of Mages that stood independent of every country.
Within its walls, one could encounter powerful Mages of every origin, every race, and every age.
Any Mage who could enter the City of Mages was, in so corner of the world, likely among the very finest.
Of course, while it had no national governance, Endymion had clearly defined laws.
If one simply abided by the law while disregarding morality, one could still thrive in Endymion.
But once you left Endymion—that was another matter entirely.
Vile individuals collectively purged by the Mages were not uncommon.
And so Endymion was also known as—the final frontier of morality.
As a side note, only Mages of the 3rd Tier or above could enter the City of Mages, and recognition of their qualification by the Mage Council was required.
The Viktor of before had more than sufficient ability, but his reputation was too poor—he could not get in.
Whereas now...
A public record of defeating a Demon was more than enough to compel the Mage Council to set aside their concerns about his character and invite him of their own accord.
As for whether they would agree to his demands—
They certainly would. These elder Mages would not pass up such a young and powerful addition to their ranks.
The recollection ended. Viktor gave Weija a brief explanation.
"It's a city floating in the sky."
Weija's eyes lit up at that. It sounded thoroughly fascinating.
But right now it was utterly exhausted—Weija let out a yawn, wanting nothing more than to sleep.
Feeling its eyelids growing too heavy to keep open, it complained to Viktor with a listless grumble:
"Honestly, do you have any idea how important getting enough sleep is for a Crow?"
Viktor gave Weija a brief extra glance, and delivered a dry remark.
"Has the great Evil God finally admitted that its species is a Crow?"
Weija had no intention of engaging with that. It flew to Viktor's shoulder, looking every bit like a bird preparing to fall asleep on the spot.
Seeing this, Viktor slowly rose to his feet and took out his Pocket Watch.
It was still early. A bit of sleep was indeed warranted.
He walked unhurriedly toward his room, and as he passed Heni's door, Viktor made a point of glancing over.
His eyes swept past a faint yellow glow. Viktor sensed no living presence inside Heni's room.
"Already up?"
He gave it no further thought, and went straight to his own room with Weija.
Viktor's room was large—large enough that an ordinary person living alone in such a spacious chamber might feel a twinge of unease at night.
So plants had crept across the floor, and still a vast expanse of space remained.
Weija spotted the perch it had been longing for, flew straight to it, and began nodding off.
But just before it drifted off, it suddenly sensed sothing. It glanced at Viktor's bed—and the entire bird snapped wide awake.
Its eyes filled with mischief, and it said to Viktor:
"How co you're not sleeping, Viktor?"
Viktor was silent for a mont. He stared at the lump beneath his bed covers, reached out, and pulled the blanket back.
A soft Succubus rolled out from under the covers, still fast asleep with a blissful expression, undisturbed as ever.
She even murmured sothing every so often in her sleep.
"Mm... Viktor... Professor... hehe..."
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