Chapter 83. No. I don’t have one, originally.
The strongest of the era.
The impression I got when I looked at Oberon’s master, Riheim—Senior Riheim, that is—wasn’t an exaggeration in the slightest.
Of course, I couldn’t know if he truly was the strongest of the era.
There wasn’t some “Greatest Mage Under Heaven Tournament” where all the mages of the continent gathered in one place to compete.
But—
‘…It’s chilling.’
An overwhelming presence.
There was only one kind of existence that could pour out momentum like this.
An Archmage.
Meaning, that insignificant-looking old man was one of the peaks who had reached the realm of transcendence (超越)!
“…And so, that’s how it ended up.”
“I see. It wasn’t an easy road. You must’ve gone through a lot of hardship.”
While I was still dazed by that presence, Senior Riheim finished his conversation with Oberon and turned his gaze toward me.
“You worked hard as well. You’ve done well coming all this way.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it ‘hard’ exactly….”
“Right—Schwartz, that fellow. No, your master. Is he doing well? Things were urgent, so I couldn’t even properly ask after him.”
“That man’s doing fine, warm and well-fed. But….”
I tilted my head.
“Master? Who’s whose master?”
“…?”
This time, Senior Riheim tilted his head.
“Your master’s honored name is….”
“I don’t have one.”
“Has he passed away?”
“No. I don’t have one, originally.”
“…….”
An awkward silence fell.
“Then… is Schwartz not your master?”
“…Why would you say something that horrific.”
“Just looking at your eyes, you’re the spitting image of him when he was young. Hm. How strange. Anyway, you’re saying he’s not?”
“…He’s not. If I had to put it somewhere, we’re more like seniors and juniors.”
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me.
Maybe when you become an Archmage, you lose something precious. No—maybe only people who are lacking something to begin with can reach Archmagehood.
Paharen was born human, but his heart was no different from a beast. Senior Headmaster… he was such an inscrutable man that it was hard to guess his level, but he’d lost his sanity.
From that perspective, what Senior Riheim had lost was his ability to judge people.
As I wandered through an answerless Zen riddle, Senior Riheim’s voice reached me.
“Huh. So Schwartz that fellow handed the Sakwol Token to someone who isn’t even his disciple?”
His expression looked genuinely surprised.
At this point, I couldn’t help but feel疑問.
‘The Sakwol Token?’
I definitely remembered.
He’d said that if I covered my face, he’d be shocked, but that with this mask, even that friend of his would understand generously.
But back then, and even now,
judging by the nuance in the way Senior Headmaster and Senior Riheim spoke, it seemed like it was an object with some meaning to them.
“What is this token, that you’re reacting like that?”
“You don’t know? Hm. Well, a lot of time has passed. If you don’t know, then that’s fine. If he didn’t tell you, it must’ve had its own meaning.”
At Senior Riheim’s attitude of brushing it aside as nothing, I also nodded appropriately.
It felt a bit unsettling, but whether it was the Sakwol Token or whatever wasn’t what mattered right now.
“Putting that aside, what is all this? The atmosphere was very different from what I expected.”
Originally, the atmosphere I’d imagined for the Fourth Base Camp wasn’t this calm.
Ancient wraiths.
They overflowing everywhere, ripping and chewing the flesh of the living—an asura-like chaos. A melee where undead and monsters and humans alike slammed into each other.
That’s what I had pictured.
But.
‘The Fourth Base Camp is practically a fortress….’
And judging by Oberon and Raileigh’s reactions, it hadn’t been fortified for very long.
Not only that.
‘It’s peaceful.’
Even if the monsters had been driven away to avoid the undead, I couldn’t find even a trace of the undead themselves.
It looked like things were flowing in a direction different from what I’d expected.
“Ah, right. I should tell you that first. You’ve heard about Destrow, yes?”
When I nodded, Senior Riheim briefly stroked his chin.
He looked like he was thinking about where to start, but it wasn’t long before his mouth opened.
“Do you know why the ancient wraiths devour the living so thoroughly?”
“Isn’t it for their existence force?”
Unlike undead with a caster, they had to replenish their own existence force.
But Senior Riheim shook his head.
“You were half right. But that isn’t all.”
“Then….”
“First, I’ll start by telling you from there.”
When all the 이야기가 finished—
“…Hm.”
With my arms crossed, I kept Senior Riheim in my sight.
The answer to why the ancient wraiths indiscriminately slaughtered the living was fairly easy to accept.
- When a living creature dies, two kinds of energy arise. One is life energy (生氣). The other is death energy (死氣). You know this, yes?
- Yes.
- And among them, life energy (生氣) becomes the existence force for undead.
Up to here was something I already knew well. But there were a few more parts.
- They’re gathering power.
- Power, meaning…?
- For the moment Destrow awakens. They accumulate power to offer to their master for that time.
So while replenishing their own existence force, they were also accumulating energy to present to their master.
But that wasn’t all.
- Then how is death energy (死氣) used?
- Don’t tell me….
- Yes. The more death energy fills the air, the faster Destrow’s release becomes. In other words… they’re offering sacrifices for that release.
It couldn’t be anything but a total disaster.
The more the ancient wraiths flourished, the more Destrow’s release would be pulled forward, and the power he’d have upon release would grow even larger.
Well, up to there, I could accept it.
‘…Sure, that could happen.’
It was Destrow.
Life energy this, death energy that.
In magical theory they were just energies explained only in theory, and their use was said to be impossible—but Destrow himself was an existence far beyond common sense.
Even if he used those two energies, you could just go, “Well, I guess,” and move on.
But.
What I truly couldn’t understand was how Senior Riheim responded after realizing this fact.
- Then what should we do?
- Well… we should stop it, shouldn’t we?
- Right. So I stopped it.
- …?
He said it like it was nothing.
- I sealed them inside a barrier.
What did that even mean?
The wraiths had spread across Hamelin Great Forest—he’d “filtered” them out and trapped them, like driving fish into a net with a barrier.
It was easy to say.
‘Easy to say…’
Think about it.
Did the ancient wraiths run around in one cute little cluster? No. They rampaged so broadly that the Great Forest’s entire ecology changed.
And yet.
‘He cast a barrier over all that territory… and herded them into the ancient ruins?’
That response was the most certain response there was.
Near the ancient ruins, living creatures’ traces would’ve dried up long ago.
He could delay Destrow’s arrival, and even if the worst happened and he arrived, his power wouldn’t be whole.
But.
“…Are you a dragon?”
“It wasn’t easy for me, either.”
“Looking at you, it does seem that way, but….”
My eyes swept over Senior Riheim.
I hadn’t noticed earlier, but he looked nothing like a proper person.
A kindly expression, clear eyes, and a presence so sharp it was practically violent—those hid it.
But his body was emaciated, his face drained of all color, and though his back was straight, his shoulders sagged, limp with exhaustion.
But that was all.
He looked tired.
Just that.
‘…Does that make sense?’
Magic power… fine. If he said he was supplying it with a mana-accumulation array, I could understand.
The magic power filling this space was probably for that barrier.
And the Fourth Base Camp’s mages were, even now, building mana-accumulation arrays—meaning mana-accumulation magic circles—as much as their hands could reach.
Fine. I’ll concede a hundred times; I can understand up to there.
But then….
‘Human mental strength…’
Can it do that?
I don’t know.
No—setting mental strength aside, a brain has capacity.
And yet, with a human brain, to construct a barrier over such a broad domain and narrow its scope? Even I could hardly imagine such a feat!
Not only that—
‘He’s still maintaining the barrier, even now.’
No matter how much the surrounding magic circles helped, this was no different from madness. No, it was simply madness.
“…Why are you doing that?”
“What are you talking about?”
Senior Riheim played dumb with an innocent expression.
I glanced at Oberon, then asked again through message magic.
[Is Hamelin Great Forest your hometown?]
[…My hometown is the capital of the Empire.]
[Then why…?]
An Archmage? Transcendence?
Even if you reach the summit and transcend humanity, your essence doesn’t change. In other words, even an Archmage is a person.
Their ability has limits, and when you go beyond those limits, you break—there’s no difference. The only difference is that their limits are located at a height unimaginably higher than ordinary people’s.
And from what I could see, Senior Riheim was—
Right on that limit.
Balancing on that line.
Then what price would he pay?
‘…Who knows.’
Mana backlash? If it was only that, he’d be lucky. In the worst case, incapacity (不能). Depending on how it went, he might not even be able to guarantee his life.
Honestly, it wasn’t my problem.
‘If he wants to spend his own life as he pleases.’
I was just curious.
Why an Archmage of this caliber would make a sacrifice like this. Why he stayed with his disciple in a death zone to protect Hamelin Great Forest.
Had he understood what I meant?
[Is there even such a thing as a reason?]
Senior Riheim’s voice echoed at my ear.
And that “reason”—how should I put it. By my standards, it was something I couldn’t understand at all.
[There is something in front of me that must be stopped, and I have, however meagerly, a certain skill.]
[…]
[When I think of the disaster Destrow’s arrival would bring, how could I spare this one life?]
I looked into those eyes, then quietly shifted my gaze up toward the ceiling.
Clear.
Those eyes were so clear that they were barren enough that even a single minnow couldn’t survive.
‘…Human compatibility.’
Was it that the master matched the disciple? No—saying that felt difficult.
Oberon was still a fledgling. If you set your mind to corrupt him, you could do it as much as you liked. No—he’d soak it in on his own just by staying close.
‘But that old man Riheim…’
It felt like I was being purified.
Step.
I took one step back.
“…?”
Senior Riheim tilted his head in confusion, but I didn’t let down my guard and took another step back.
At this point, there was something I wanted to ask—something I normally wouldn’t have cared about.
“Senior… who are you?”
“Me? …Hmm. It doesn’t seem like you’re asking the name ‘Riheim.’”
An old war mage.
At this point, it was certain he’d been among the top even back then.
But among old war mages, someone with a mind that upright? That didn’t match the common sense I had.
Normally, when you said “old war mage,” Senior Headmaster was the standard human image, if anything.
“Right. Since you’ve received the Sakwol Token, it won’t be bad to tell you. No, it would be ruder not to.”
“Yes, Master. If it’s Senior Riheim, it seems fine.”
“It’s a shameful past, but….”
Senior Riheim smiled bitterly somehow, then opened his mouth with a kindly expression.
And when that mouth opened—
“…Huh.”
It felt like someone had cracked the back of my head hard.
“My name is Muspellun.”
He didn’t say his full name.
But if you connected the name “Muspellun” to the “barrier” spread across Hamelin Great Forest, there was no way you wouldn’t know his full name.
Muspellun Gigas Adelian.
The middle name “Gigas” meant nobility.
And the last name “Adelian” was permitted only to a single bloodline.
The most august ones.
The imperial family.
But the name Muspellun was more widely known in another way than as royalty.
Which was—
The Mage of the End.
The one mage who brought the old war to an end.
A genius of barrier magic, which only geniuses among geniuses could master, and a butcher who crushed (壓死) a hundred thousand soldiers alone.
A mage worthy of endless respect, and the owner of the heaviest 죄, known as the one who’d stained his hands with the most blood in the old war.
To sum it up….
‘The craziest bastard.’
Yeah. Even among the war mages said to be insane, Muspellun was the craziest one.
