Chapter 106

Inside the main estate, nestled deep in the brutal cold of the North.

Snowflakes swirled like embers above the horizon, where the setting sun had painted the white skyline in strokes of red.

Joseph sat with his back to the window, pushed aside the documents on his desk, and picked up the letter that had just arrived.

Thud.

He broke the seal and began reading.

His quiet gaze traveled back and forth across the page three or four times.

Before long, his left hand rose and began to move in slow, deliberate strokes. Silver mana flowed from his fingertips, sparking like firelight as it etched shapes into the air.

Flash. Flash.

From straight lines to gentle curves. Then interlocking, twisted forms.

Joseph studied the rough sketch of a staff he'd imagined into existence, then scattered it into particles and lowered his hand.

He hadn't expected Mikhail to trim the World Tree branch and forge his own weapon this quickly. It couldn't have been easy, and yet… impressive was the only word for it. Remarkable, even.

Then again—whose son is he.

Joseph set aside the pride swelling alongside that thought and read on to the lines below.

Words of gratitude for the World Tree sapling. An update on his own well-being, paired with questions about Joseph's in return.

Then—in a single moment.

Joseph's breath caught hard between his teeth as his gaze locked onto the final line.

[I'll come visit before long.]

He blinked, expression dazed, then let the corner of his mouth soften into the faintest curve.

—Cough.

A dry hack burst from the smile before it could fully form. Joseph grimaced at the unwelcome sensation and wiped the corner of his mouth.

Knock knock.

The sound cut across the silent office, followed immediately by the head butler's voice.

"Lord Joseph. I'm coming in."

Joseph slid the letter aside and watched the butler enter.

The butler raised his bowed head and placed the documents he'd brought on Joseph's desk.

"A letter from the Cloelle family in the capital. And a report on the status of the borderland defense line."

Joseph wiped the warmth from his face, picked up the letter bearing the Cloelle crest, and unfolded it.

The handwriting—precise as if drawn with a ruler—delivered the same request as always, tucked neatly behind formal pleasantries.

[Report required on the status of the Northern ruins defense line.]

Joseph set the letter down and picked up the borderland defense report.

Flip.

He read through the entries on the page.

Magical beast incursions had grown more frequent than before, and the number of violent, high-threat individuals was climbing by the day.

But the defense line they'd built still held.

The large-scale protective ward connected to Joseph's own mana remained active, and the tactics honed through years of prolonged standoffs with the beasts served as an additional safeguard.

The report's conclusion was straightforward: maintaining the current state—not expanding the front—posed no serious difficulty.

"—Lord Joseph."

Joseph set the document down at the sound of his name. The butler paused to collect himself, then spoke carefully.

"Separate from the formal report just now… Young Lord Sion has sent word of something independently."

Puzzlement surfaced on Joseph's face, but he nodded for the butler to continue.

"An anomaly has been observed at the astronomical tower beyond the border—the site used for monitoring the arrangement and movement of stars."

In an instant, Joseph's expression froze over like a sudden frost. His fingertips on the desk curled tight.

The butler noted the reaction with a sidelong glance, bowed his head a fraction lower, and delivered the rest.

"Based on the burst of light that erupted two nights ago in the dead of night… it appears the astronomical tower was activated for some unknown reason."

---

The main stage of the second main storyline, and the site of the next academic activity.

The Guild Alliance headquarters in the kingdom's east.

Two days of free time remained before departure.

[Tavern: Fioned's Early Autumn]

One day had passed since the destinations were decided.

Mikhail watched Han and Ul—each claiming a seat of their own, happily chewing through meatballs—then turned his head toward the other side of the table.

"So where are you two headed?"

Julien, backlit by the sunset pouring through the window, nibbled at a honey biscuit and answered.

"I'm staying at school. I'll be organizing the archives and copying formulas a thousand times over."

"…That's the assignment for the bottom five percent, isn't it? You don't need to aim that low."

"Eh, this just suits me better."

Julien waved his hand back and forth with a smile. Mikhail watched him, nodded, and left it at that. What mattered for Julien right now was a stable, uneventful routine—so long as nothing stirred up the turmoil inside him, any activity would do.

Edwin spoke up next.

"I'm going with the magic research institute and knight order field study."

Julien brightened immediately.

"Oh, that's perfect for you! Especially the knight order side."

"Hmm, you think so?"

Edwin was crunching through a triple-stacked biscuit when a note of frustration crept into his voice.

"Honestly though, I wanted to go to the suppression campaign. My grades were right on the borderline, so I figured I'd be fine—but apparently since the person running the whole thing is family, they wouldn't allow it."

"Ah… is it a bias concern? Something like that?"

"Yeah. Something about that, but… ugh, it's so unfair! My dad, right—he looks like the type who'd fall for any bit of flattery, but he's secretly ruthless about these things. Forget bonus points—I'd be lucky if he didn't dock me."

Edwin stamped his feet in protest while Julien giggled and tossed the remaining half of his biscuit into his mouth.

Mikhail tilted his head toward Edwin and asked.

"Why not talk to him about it? Explain the situation, promise there won't be any favoritism—you never know how it might've turned out."

Edwin raked his fingers through his hair.

"You think I didn't try? The second my application got rejected, I sent word to my dad. Then this morning an express reply came back telling me to quit arguing and do what the school says. He even said it might actually be for the best…."

Edwin trailed off and fell into a thoughtful hum.

Then he dropped the hand that had been scratching the back of his head and fixed Mikhail with an intent stare.

"But here's the thing. According to my dad, there's going to be a huge matchup this time, and it's going to be incredible."

"A huge matchup…?"

Julien had barely echoed the words when his shoulders jerked. He whipped his head toward Mikhail.

Mikhail met both pairs of eyes head-on and folded his arms.

"The former heir of the North versus the current heir of the North. You mean Verte Fischer and me."

"Wait—you already knew?!"

"Julien tipped me off."

"Huhhh?"

The confused sound burst from Julien and Edwin simultaneously.

Edwin's wide eyes rolled sideways and locked onto Julien's face—but Julien looked just as baffled as everyone else.

He blinked vacantly for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

"Oh, well… I actually didn't know who it was specifically."

Mikhail glanced between the two of them and shrugged.

Then he swirled the drink in front of him in lazy circles and changed the subject.

"Anyway. Sounds like we won't see each other again until after this round of activities wraps up. About two weeks, you think?"

"Yeah. Probably about that."

Julien tucked his surprise away and answered readily. Edwin seemed to shake off the momentary shock as well.

He scratched his cheek as though replaying the conversation, then broke into a grin brimming with competitive fire.

"Aha. Right. So that's how it is!"

Several enthusiastic murmurs followed, trailing his train of thought like a current.

Edwin's olive-colored eyes flashed with something bright as he lurched forward across the table.

"Hey—Mikhail! Whatever happens, you'd better crush that former Northern heir or whoever he is, got it? Destroy him so badly he can't make a sound! I'm finishing my field study early and coming to watch. You hear me?"

Edwin was working himself into a genuine fervor. Mikhail stared at those flushed cheeks, then let out a deflating breath and replied.

"Sure. And if anyone opens a betting pool on the outcome, put down everything you've got. I'll make sure you win big."

---

The blue-black of nightfall draped over the sky like a curtain signaling the final act.

A circling seabird cried out like an evening bell.

Lloyd Cloelle leaned against the windmill with the dark sky at his back, letting the ocean breeze wash over him.

Day after tomorrow and I won't be able to come here for a while.

Leaving behind a place where he could clear his head was never pleasant—but this particular journey wasn't entirely unwelcome.

Lloyd smiled to himself, picturing the interesting confrontation that lay just ahead.

Mikhail Senit. And Verte Fischer.

The moment he lined the two names up in his mind, what surfaced was the root of the conflict.

The scorn and condemnation that had rained down on the Fischer family after the North's sovereignty was stripped away, for instance.

Imbeciles who couldn't even protect one noble name.

A permanent stain on the title of guardian.

Barbs that had picked at their downfall and pried open every wound.

Of course, all of it had happened before Lloyd was even born—he'd never witnessed the finger-pointing firsthand. But the sentences preserved in the family archives painted a vivid enough picture of the humiliation and defeat they must have felt.

Things quieted down after the Leventias were broken too, supposedly… but that doesn't erase the scars.

Lloyd smirked and folded his arms.

At the same time, he called to mind the stories circulating about the current Verte Fischer.

He's certainly been sharpening his blade. Quite the dazzling reputation.

A rising star at the capital's magic research institute—whether as a combatant or a researcher, a young man whose stock and renown were climbing fast. He'd mastered higher-tier magic faster than any of his peers, and his eye for dissecting an opponent's formulas was reportedly razor-sharp, fueling an unbroken winning streak in duels.

And on the other side of that…

A boy who'd shown some unusual movement lately, sure—but whose public record amounted to nothing but a long, conspicuous absence.

The sole legitimate heir of Joseph Senit, the man whose overwhelming power had reshaped the political landscape single-handedly. Yet unlike the heirs of other families—who rushed to prove themselves and establish their standing as early as possible—this one had produced not a single documented achievement up to the present day.

Which was precisely why no real murmurs—good or bad—had ever trailed in Mikhail's wake.

If it weren't for that troublemaker reputation, things might've been truly boring.

A stray gust of ocean wind cut across his thoughts like a long bookmark laid between the pages.

Lloyd swept back the hair whipping across his face and narrowed his eyes as he gazed down at the night view.

Before long, a quiet murmur slipped from his tightly pressed lips.

"Show me what you are, then. A guardian worthy of the name—or just empty chaff. Mikhail Senit."