Magician in Type-Moon

Page 527

A strange, almost bewildered light suddenly appeared in his eyes, dulled by the passage of time:

Did he... anticipate this would happen? Or... was there another reason?

This murmur doesn't seem to be spoken to someone else; it's more like a questioning of time itself.

Barthezmello – the royalty of the bell tower, the pinnacle of aristocracy.

The ruling family effectively controls the Department of Law and Politics, and even if they don't publicly express their views at the Grand Council meetings, they always set the tone for the entire organization.

After a moment of silence, Olga Marie spoke softly:

"...Should we really stop Albion's redevelopment plan?"

She looked directly at the old man, her tone devoid of provocation, merely questioning.

"Is it possible... that doing so, as Tramberg advocates, would bring greater benefits to the world of magic?"

Rufreus did not respond immediately.

He lowered his eyes, his gaze seemingly filled with decades of suppressed grief, anger, and indifference.

Then, those eyes, covered with age spots, lifted again and stared fiercely at the girl.

“You’ve got it wrong… the girl from the astrophysics department, ‘Animusphia’.”

His voice was like dried rust, dull and oppressive, almost hostile.

"The problem isn't the reason—we don't need a reason at all."

"We... have absolutely no need to take any action. Whether or not Tramberg's proposals bring any so-called 'greater benefits,' the outcome will not change."

He pressed hard on the handrail beside him, his knuckles turning white.

"Those who arrive will arrive, and those who do not will not arrive. In the end, it's all the same."

These words were asserted as coldly and absolutely as a law of nature.

That is the true essence of aristocracy.

A system that regards "innate qualifications" as the ultimate standard—the epitome of ethnocentrism.

In Rufreus's view, all the so-called trials, challenges, and changes were superfluous.

As long as the result is to select "arrivers", the process is completely irrelevant.

This is the way of the magician he believes in.

The path of a magician is ultimately not a path designed for the masses.

So-called democracy is merely a embellishment of the selection criteria; it does not change the essence of democracy.

Deeply ingrained fantasies of superhumans, deeply rooted prejudices, and a masochistic tendency toward alienation from the world—these constitute the spiritual framework of the magic world.

And these things will probably not be truly shaken even when the world ends.

"Let's do it again..."

He murmured softly, as if speaking to himself, or perhaps to something more distant.

"Let's see how far that brat named 'Matou Ike' can go..."

No sooner had she finished speaking than Olga Marie suddenly spoke up, her tone even more serious than before:

"However... no matter who we are, the era of magicians will continue."

"That's precisely why we should consider—for their sake, shouldn't the entire world of magic change? Lord Rufreus... don't you still have Lord Bram?"

"Cuckoo..."

Rufreus chuckled softly. It wasn't a lighthearted laugh, but rather a cruel resignation.

“Brahm… ah, yes.”

His gaze was unfocused, as if he were recalling some distant and heavy past event.

“I told you, didn’t I? Those who arrive will arrive… Bram too, and that’s all.”

"For that result, we will do the work that needs to be done. All Bram needs to do is embark on the road to the finish line."

"He should be... a little better than his brother-in-law who died young."

"You mean...Sir Kenneth?"

Olga Marie paused, her tone slightly hesitant.

Ten years ago, Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald, the young and promising monarch of the former Minerals Kingdom of Kishua, was the fiancé of Euryphus' daughter.

That political marriage was a key move in consolidating power within the aristocratic faction, enough to shake up the entire power structure of the Clock Tower.

Although similar combinations have occurred many times in history, this one is of extraordinary significance.

It should have been a turning point in the history of modern magic.

But in the end, it all vanished like a bubble.

That engagement is now buried in a corner of the Euryphal family, where no one mentions it.

All Olga Marie knew was the final outcome—

Kenneth died in the Holy Grail War.

The aristocratic unification plan also collapsed after his death.

"...Kenneth is such a pity..."

Rufreus sighed softly, as if chewing on a piece of history that no one knew.

"How many secret techniques he left behind that are still under research... I have no way of knowing."

"I heard he's very talented."

Olga Marie responded with a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"However... I was young at the time and didn't really understand."

"As a researcher, he is indeed excellent."

This assessment is concise and detached, yet it can be considered a form of respect.

Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald, the former monarch of "Kishua," was an absolute genius.

But as Rufreus said, he was not a genius in combat.

In the Fourth Holy Grail War, he was defeated and died, and unsurprisingly, he failed to prove his magic.

In that "inhuman war," knowledge and talent ultimately could not overcome violence and twisted desires.

"But..."

Rufreus gently swirled the teacup in his hand, making a soft clinking sound.

"A magician... that level is enough."

"The clock tower might encourage honing magical skills through combat—"

His voice was so soft it was almost a whisper.

"But a magician's duty is never to fight on the battlefield. Those things are at most impurities. It doesn't matter whether he has them or not... but they should never be given to him."

It's not that we can't have it, it's just that it's "not worth giving".

It wasn't a failure, it was just that it wasn't worth keeping.

This is true ruthlessness.

Olga Marie thought to herself: So even Lord Rufreus has dreams he can't reach?

That kind of dream that's limited by one's abilities—

That kind of place, even if you long for it, you can only let it drift away.

That kind of thing... must be entrusted to the next generation.

"...In any case, I have already taken action against the 'Grand Decision'."

The old man spoke lightly, his tone not heavy, yet it was impossible to ignore.

Olga Marie fell silent.

Nowhere in the world is more adept at intrigue than the clock tower.

Rufreus was one of the magicians who was well-versed in this art.

The struggles and battles he experienced were far beyond what a young girl confined to her home could imagine.

Even just these few words might only be one of the tactics.

A narrative used to sway her, guide her, and manipulate her.

"...Even so, it doesn't matter."

The girl suddenly gathered her thoughts and quietly turned her mind around.

Even if it's being manipulated.

At least, that means she can still be a useful pawn—for astrophysics today, this "usable" stance is actually a weapon.

After all, she is now the sole heir of the Astronomical Department, which is isolated and helpless after the monarch's disappearance.

"So... what should I do?"

She asked herself the same question, as if trying to awaken some dormant power.

The face of a magician appeared in her mind.

That figure who came from the East, yet repeatedly hurled boulders at the world—

That person, step by step, approached the forbidden gate.

“...Olga Marie Asmirette Animusfia.”

The sudden call interrupted her thoughts.

"……!exist!"

The girl suddenly straightened her back, her voice clear and crisp.

Rufreus looked directly at her, his old, cloudy, almost empty eyes revealing no emotion whatsoever.