The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 53: Mage Hunter (3)
In the heart of the black market's bustling streets, an unusual standoff was taking place. Oscar, having guessed their identities, spoke up.
"What business does a mage from the Yellow Tower have with us?"
"...Hah, even after figuring out who we are, that's the tone you choose?"
The burly mage scowled, but the lanky one beside him quickly intervened.
"Hey, how about we don’t pick a fight right off the bat? You’ll scare them."
He gave a polite bow and introduced himself.
"Greetings. I am Bern Rodri, a Level 4 mage of the Yellow Tower. Now, you too."
"Why should I bother with these lowlifes...?"
"It’s the mission, remember? Do it."
"Tch. Jonathan Pelt, Level 4 mage of the Yellow Tower."
Oscar discreetly checked the air around them.
‘Hmm, no lies...’
The still air didn’t even stir.
‘Seems legit.’
Still, it was too soon to be certain.
This technique only worked on amateurs who couldn’t control their emotions.
The two before him were clearly pros.
‘At the very least, they’ve got their emotions in check.’
Given their introductions, it wouldn’t do to remain silent.
Oscar nodded slightly and introduced himself.
"Oscar Crucian, Level 3 mage of the White Tower."
"Killian Lockwood, Level 4 mage of the White Tower."
"Wait, Killian Lockwood... you mean the saint of the White Tower?"
Bern’s eyes widened in surprise.
Killian tilted his head lazily.
"Perfect! The reason we stopped you is that we need your cooperation."
"...Cooperation?"
"Yes. You’ve likely heard rumors about the Mage Hunter roaming the northern regions recently."
Oscar and Killian exchanged a quiet nod.
It was the very reason Maxime had called them earlier this evening.
"The last traces of the Hunter were found here, in Baran. We're collaborating with the local mages to track them down. Should any of us fall victim, we’ll immediately pursue the trail to catch the culprit. We’d like you to help."
"And what exactly does this cooperation entail?"
Killian asked.
At least he could hold a basic conversation with others.
"It’s a simple request."
Bern pulled out a business card from his pocket and handed it to Killian.
"Please take this."
"And this is...?"
"A magically enchanted card. It’s a pair, linked to the one I’m holding. Would you channel your mana into it for a moment?"
As Killian channeled his mana, a magical thread connected the two cards.
Bern nodded in satisfaction and continued.
"By infusing mana, a thread forms that can track your position within a 10 km radius. If the cardholder dies, the card turns red, which allows us to follow the trail."
"Hmm."
It was certainly efficient.
Whatever else, their determination to catch the Mage Hunter was clear.
‘Come to think of it, even Red Tower and Yellow Tower mages recently fell victim to that guy.’
It seemed these two had been tasked by the Yellow Tower to deal with the Hunter.
Bern pocketed the card and spoke again.
"I’ll check your location every two hours. Once you safely reach Sirin, simply tear the card in half, and we’ll be notified."
"Understood. Should we check your location every two hours as well?"
The burly mage, Jonathan, scoffed.
"What a joke. Do you think we’d fall to some nobody?"
"Well, Jonathan’s words are harsh but not wrong. There’s no chance we’ll be defeated."
Their confidence was palpable.
Observing them briefly, Killian gave a half-hearted nod as if losing interest.
"Understood."
Killian then handed the card back to him, likely finding it bothersome to keep.
Bern quickly intervened.
"Ah, since Killian’s mana is already registered, the card won’t work if you’re not holding it."
"Looks like you’re stuck with it, Killian."
"...Fine."
With that, Killian slipped the card into his pocket.
Bern’s face lit up with relief.
"Thank you for your understanding! Please, both of you, travel safely."
Once the two left, Oscar murmured,
"Let’s go."
The dark, quiet mountain path back to Sirin echoed only with the clattering of hooves.
Without enough money for a taxi, they had settled for a carriage—a slower and less comfortable option, but one that carried its own charm.
As Killian sat beside him, gazing out into the dark landscape, he suddenly spoke.
"...There was no warrior more suited to inheriting the King’s Mark than her."
Oscar immediately realized he was talking about Kaya Lockwood.
"I’ve thought about it hundreds, thousands of times. Why did she do it? With time, the Mark would have passed to her naturally. Why break into the temple and steal it, even going so far as to betray the tribe?"
Oscar kept his eyes and mouth closed, listening silently.
Killian likely wasn’t looking for a response, just a chance to vent.
"At first, I thought she must’ve had a compelling reason. The Kaya I knew—spiteful, sure, even finding joy in tormenting others—but she understood what it meant to be a warrior."
Through those few words, Oscar could piece together what had happened in the forest tribe.
"But to think she used that great power to commit crimes... It’s unforgivable."
"Was there no sign of unrest in the tribe before she stole the King’s Mark?"
"None. It was peaceful, even idyllic in hindsight."
"Hmm."
Then why?
Oscar couldn’t easily guess her motives based on the information so far.
‘Perhaps there was no reason at all.’
Some people were simply born with malice.
But accepting that Radan’s daughter is one of them... that’s hard to swallow.
Oscar glanced at him and said,
“Don’t think about it too much. In time, the truth will reveal itself. Until then, just focus on what you can do.”
“...What I can do, huh. That makes sense.”
With a curious expression, Killian finally turned to face him and asked,
“But why didn’t you ask? Why I’m so bent on catching her, or why she’s active in the Violet Brigade? You must’ve been curious.”
“I figured you’d tell me when the time was right. And if it wasn’t the right time, you wouldn’t answer anyway.”
“...Fair enough.”
Killian, as if appreciating Oscar’s insight, gave a gentle smile.
“You remind me of the elders in my tribe.”
Wait, is he implying he seemed old?
That can’t be right.
He was as youthful as anyone these days.
Before Oscar could ask, Killian began nodding off.
“...Unbelievable.”
He’s a lot like his father.
He was as simple-minded as his father.
Oscar chuckled softly and glanced at the bracelet on his left wrist.
‘Got myself a decent artifact for a good price.’
Imbuing magic permanently into an object is no small feat.
It has to be designed so that even those who can’t wield the magic themselves can use it easily.
‘And this isn’t just a magic tool; it’s an artifact.’
While both have magic engraved into them, the difference lies in quality.
Artifacts, typically found in dungeons, are far superior to magic tools.
These are relics from a forgotten era—what’s now referred to as the age of the Ancient Civilization.
‘What’s more, the magic on this bracelet... even I don’t fully understand it.’
Illusion magic, a discipline studied in the Purple Tower, requires both meticulous control and vivid imagination.
In other words, even as an artifact, only those with the right talent could wield it effectively.
If the artifact had a different type of magic, it wouldn’t have lasted three weeks on the market, let alone three years.
‘On the other hand, someone like me can push its potential to the limit.’
Overflowing with talent, after all.
Oscar eyed the bracelet like a child with a new toy.
‘Let’s see what it can do.’
As he channeled magic into it, 30% of his mana instantly drained.
He looked at the small figure of himself that appeared across the seat and stroked his chin.
‘So, the default illusion is fixed as a doppelgänger?’
Focusing his mind, he tried to reshape the figure before him, imagining it as someone else.
‘Trinity. Yes, let’s make it look like Trinity.’
Despite his efforts, he couldn’t fully transform it.
However, the doppelgänger’s left arm morphed into something resembling a gun.
So, partial transformation seemed possible.
‘Seems like a matter of practice and skill. It’ll get better over time.’
Eventually, he’d be able to summon smaller illusions with less mana.
In terms of mana efficiency and versatility, that would be far superior.
‘Can I control its movements?’
He imagined the doppelgänger moving.
The illusion mirrored him, elegantly crossing its legs and gazing out the window with a pensive air.
‘It works.’
But it consumed mana at an alarming rate.
Maintaining such smooth movements cost an additional 1% of his mana per second.
‘If I summon and animate an illusion for just 10 seconds...’
It would consume a staggering 40% of his total mana.
Clicking his tongue, Oscar cut off the mana supply, and the illusion dissipated exactly 10 seconds later.
‘Ten seconds on residual mana. A bit short, but not too bad.’
In battle, ten seconds can be an eternity.
Judging by the realism and fluidity, it was definitely crafted by a high-ranking mage.
‘The claim that it came from an ancient dungeon doesn’t seem like a lie.’
Satisfied, Oscar conducted several more experiments.
Just as he was about to rest, a thin strand of mana zipped through the air and into Killian’s pocket.
“Hm?”
Killian, suddenly alert, pulled out a card from his pocket.
Bzzzzz.
“Ah, they’re checking if we’re still alive.”
“But didn’t they say they’d check every two hours?”
It had been at least six hours without a word.
As an uneasy feeling crept in, the coachman raised his torch and shouted.
“Hey up ahead! Whoever you are, step aside! Move!”
Oscar leaned out the window, spotting a figure staggering toward them.
“Coachman, stop for a moment.”
“Oscar, that person...”
“Yeah, it’s that guy—Vern Rodri or whatever his name is.”
The man from the black market who had handed out his card.
But something was off.
His robe was filthy and torn, as if he’d been rolling in the dirt, revealing cuts and bruises.
His wrists and ankles bore the remains of broken shackles.
“What happened to you?”
Oscar stepped out of the carriage and approached.
The man looked up, his voice trembling.
“Help... Please help. Jonathan’s been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped? Who on earth would dare—? Wait, don’t tell me...”
At that, Bern’s tears flowed freely.
Then, he uttered a name that sent chills down Oscar’s spine.
“...The Mage Hunter.”
Bern’s shoulders shook as he sobbed.
“Jonathan is in that monster’s hands right now.”

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