59 - Counter
The Magic Tower had always been a place of certainty.
Of knowledge carefully recorded, preserved, and guarded beyond the reach of the outside world. Every rune etched into its walls, every tome sealed within its libraries, every spell categorized and understood.
Or so they believed.
Deep within the tower—far below the grand observatory and far beyond the reach of ordinary mages—lay the Forbidden Archive. A place where even light seemed hesitant to linger.
Ancient stone corridors stretched endlessly, lined with towering shelves filled with books that radiated faint, unsettling pulses of mana. Each tome was sealed with layered enchantments—some glowing faintly, others completely inert, as if waiting.
Watching. The air here was heavier. Denser. Dangerous. Five figures stood within that suffocating silence. The Archmages. For once, none of them were relaxed.
“… again.” The silver-haired Archmage’s voice cut through the stillness, sharp and low. Her violet eyes scanned the empty pedestal before her. It should not have been empty. And yet, it was.
The old Archmage stepped forward slowly, his staff tapping against the stone floor. Clack. “… this makes the third confirmation.”
His voice carried weight. Not panic. But something worse. Concern.
The tattooed Archmage crossed his arms, his gaze darkening as he looked around the archive. “There’s no sign of forced entry.” He gestured toward the surrounding shelves. “None of the seals were broken. None of the wards were triggered.” A pause. “… nothing.”
Silence pressed in, because that was impossible.
This place—this archive—was protected by centuries of layered magic. Defensive spells intertwined with detection arrays, reinforced by the personal enchantments of Archmages long dead.
Breaking in without detection? Unthinkable.
Kael leaned lazily against one of the shelves, arms crossed, though his usual smirk was noticeably absent. “… not nothing.” The others turned toward him. Kael tilted his head slightly, crimson eyes narrowing. “… there was something.”
The silver-haired Archmage’s gaze sharpened. “… elaborate.”
Kael exhaled slowly, pushing himself off the shelf. “… six years ago.” His voice was quieter now. Less mocking. “There was a fluctuation.”
The old Archmage nodded faintly. “… I remember.”
The memory surfaced clearly. A brief disturbance. So faint it had almost been dismissed. Just a flicker in the tower’s mana flow. A ripple that lasted less than a second.
And then, nothing.
“We investigated,” the tattooed Archmage said, his tone grim. “… and found nothing.”
No intruder. No broken seals. No missing tomes. At least… not then.
The silver-haired Archmage’s fingers curled slightly. “… we were wrong.”
Silence. Heavy.
Because now, standing before that empty pedestal, the truth was undeniable. Something—or someone—had entered the Forbidden Archive. And they had taken something without leaving a trace.
“What was stored here?” Kael asked, though his tone suggested he already knew.
The old Archmage answered slowly. “… restricted material.”
Kael rolled his eyes. “Everything here is restricted.” A pause. “… be specific.”
The old Archmage hesitated. Just for a moment. Then, “… counter-archmage constructs.”
Silence fell.
The tattooed Archmage’s expression hardened immediately. “You’re serious...”
The silver-haired Archmage spoke next, her voice colder now. “Spells designed to neutralize us.”
Even Kael stilled. "Ah.”
That was different.
The old Archmage nodded gravely. “Those tomes contain magic specifically developed to counter high-density mana users.” A pause. “… including Archmages.”
The implications settled slowly. Then all at once.
“So someone stole weapons,” Kael said quietly. “… weapons designed to kill us.”
No one corrected him. Because he wasn’t wrong.
The silver-haired Archmage turned toward the empty pedestal again, her expression unreadable. “… those spells were never meant to be used.”
“They were contingencies,” the tattooed Archmage added. “… safeguards.”
Kael let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “… and now they’re missing.”
Silence. The kind that stretched too long.
“… you think it’s them?” the tattooed Archmage finally asked. “… the organization?”
The question lingered in the air, unanswered.
The old Archmage closed his eyes briefly. “… it is possible.”
The silver-haired Archmage shook her head slightly. “… no.” All eyes turned to her. “… if it were them,” she continued, “we would have felt more than a fluctuation.” Her gaze darkened. “… their presence is not subtle.”
A pause. Then, “… this was precise,” she finished.
Kael’s lips curved slightly. Not into a smile. Something sharper. “… refined.”
The word hung there, heavy.
The tattooed Archmage frowned. “… you’re suggesting another party?”
Kael shrugged lightly. “… I’m suggesting we don’t know.
” He pushed off the shelf again, pacing slowly.
“… the organization is loud.” A small gesture.
“… overwhelming.” Another step. “… suffocating.” He stopped.
“… but this?” His eyes narrowed slightly. “… this was clean.”
Silence followed. Because they all understood what he meant.
The fluctuation six years ago. It hadn’t been overwhelming. It hadn’t been oppressive. It had been…
“… controlled.” The old Archmage murmured.
“… extremely controlled.” The silver-haired Archmage agreed.
The tattooed Archmage’s expression darkened further. “… someone capable of bypassing our wards…” A pause. “… without triggering them.”
Kael let out a quiet breath. “… and stealing weapons designed to kill us.” Silence. Then, “… that’s worse.” he finished.
No one disagreed.
The old Archmage tapped his staff once. Clack. “… we must consider the possibility.”
“That this is not connected to the organization...” The silver-haired Archmage said.
“… but something else entirely,” the tattooed Archmage finished.
Kael tilted his head slightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling—as if looking far beyond the tower itself. “… or someone.”
A faint, unsettling thought settled in the room. Unspoken. But understood.
“… if those tomes are used…” the old Archmage began slowly. “… we will not be the only targets.”
The silver-haired Archmage nodded. “… no.” Her voice was quiet. “… they could destabilize the entire empire.”
Kael exhaled softly, running a hand through his messy hair. “So let me get this straight...” He glanced at the others. “… we’ve got one group forcing nobles into rebellion…” A small shrug. “… and another group—maybe—stealing anti-Archmage weapons.”
He smiled faintly. But there was no humor in it. “… fun.”
No one reacted. Because nothing about this was amusing.
“… do we tell her?” the tattooed Archmage asked suddenly.
Silence.
The silver-haired Archmage’s gaze hardened. “… no.”
The old Archmage nodded. “… not yet.”
Kael didn’t argue this time. He simply looked toward the darkness beyond the shelves, his crimson eyes gleaming faintly. "Yeah...” he murmured. “… let’s not scare the walking disaster just yet.”
But even as he said it, he knew. They all knew.
This was no longer just about Mariana. Or the organization. Or even the Magic Tower. Something had been set in motion six years ago. Something patient. Something precise.
And now, with a Demigod candidate awakened. With rebellion spreading across the empire. With forbidden weapons missing.
“… looks like everyone’s finally making their move,” Kael said softly.
Far above them, the tower stood tall against the sky. Unshaken. Unbroken. But for the first time in centuries, the Archmages were no longer certain they were untouchable.