The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 154: The Game of Kings (8)
“Huff, huff.”
Leo Brult exhaled a cloud of white breath with his ragged breathing.
His throat burned.
For the first time, he truly understood what it meant to be "parched"—a phrase he had only read in books until now.
‘Damn it.’
Even the Red Tower mages, who had never thought they would lose to anyone, had long since fallen one by one.
No matter how strong they were, they were still outnumbered.
It had been so long since the battle began that he couldn’t even remember how much time had passed.
‘I’m the last one left.’
Drip.
Leo Brult wiped the liquid trickling down his temple with his sleeve.
He assumed it was sweat—but the deep, dark red told him otherwise.
‘...I don’t have much time left.’
The fact that he had started bleeding meant that his elimination was imminent.
Exhaling with slightly steadier breaths, he looked around.
He was the only Red Tower mage still standing.
“......”
A bitter, indescribable taste spread across his tongue.
Though he didn’t fully grasp it yet, it was the taste of defeat.
A bitter flavor that only those who had lost without saving a single ally could ever know.
“I am Leo Brult.”
Fwoooosh!
Flames surged violently around him.
This was the fire that had devoured twelve enemy mages.
The magic of the first student from last year’s graduating class to reach the 4th level.
“If I’m going down, I’m not going alone.”
Taking a deep breath, he shouted,
“Whoever wants to be eliminated with me, step forward!”
His voice boomed so loudly that the reeds around them trembled.
The one who accepted his bold challenge was a tall man.
“Fine. Someone like you is worthy of being my companion to the end.”
Seeing the man before him, Leo Brult smirked.
Fwoooosh.
The man exhaled smoke from his pipe and murmured softly.
“That’s not my intention.”
“Sorry, but that’s not up to you.”
“...I don’t intend to waste words.”
For a brief moment, tension crackled between them.
Fwoooosh!
Leo Brult’s flames surged toward his opponent first.
“......”
Killian Lockwood, watching the approaching inferno, lightly tapped his pipe.
A spark flickered—then a fierce wind howled through the battlefield.
Fwoooosh!
As if encountering an invisible wall, the roaring flames could advance no further, rippling wildly in place.
“Hoo.”
Killian exhaled a stream of smoke, tucked his pipe away, and casually rolled his neck and wrists.
“So you’re the strongest mage from last year’s class?”
“And if I am?”
“Hmph.”
Without another word, Killian's body lit up with five glowing sigils.
In the blink of an eye, he had moved behind Leo Brult.
“...What?”
Feeling the surge of magic at his back, Leo uttered a dazed question.
When?
How?
His eyes hadn’t even been able to track Killian’s movement.
‘Is this the level of a mage who graduated just a year before me?’
A formless shock shook his mind, like being tossed helplessly in a raging sea.
His stomach churned—he felt like he might vomit.
“The academy’s standards have fallen.”
Only after hearing Killian’s murmured remark did Leo slowly turn his head.
He had heard rumors about this man while still in school.
‘By written exam scores alone, he should have failed...’
But he was the oddity who had passed every practical exam with a perfect score.
Killian Lockwood.
The mage who, soon after graduation, had earned the title "Saint of the White Tower."
“...Ha.”
Leo let out a breath tinged with self-reproach.
At the same time, his body lifted off the ground—floating weightlessly into the sky.
It was the White Tower Master's intervention, signaling that he could no longer continue fighting.
“It’s over.”
Killian muttered as he watched Leo drift away.
A moment later, Veronica stormed toward him, fuming.
“Hey! Are you kidding me? I told you he was mine!”
“Didn’t hear you.”
“Oh, don’t give me that crap!”
Just as she was about to explode, Fran approached, waving a hand in a calming gesture.
“Alright, alright. It’s not over yet, so let’s just leave it at that.”
“...Not over yet?”
Veronica hesitated.
With Leo Brult’s defeat, the Red, Yellow, and Blue Towers had all been eliminated.
The once-mighty Three-Tower Alliance had fallen.
It was a complete victory for their side.
“What do you mean, it’s not over?”
Shrugging, Fran pointed at the remaining mages.
Despite their overwhelming victory, their group remained surprisingly composed.
And the reason was simple.
‘So... what happens now?’
‘Do the remaining Towers have to fight each other?’
‘Damn it. I should have saved some mana if I knew we’d have to deal with the White Tower next.’
How would the ranking be decided among the surviving Towers?
As they exchanged wary glances, Oscar’s voice echoed in their ears.
- Good work, everyone. As I informed each Tower’s leader beforehand, there will be no further battles.
With that, he announced the rankings outright.
- Fourth place: The Purple Tower. They eliminated 8 opponents.
- Third place: The Blood Tower. They took down 14.
- Second place: The Black Tower. They eliminated 16.
A few mages shuddered.
Oscar knew precisely how many enemies each Tower had defeated.
- And first place goes to the White Tower. They eliminated 22 mages in this battle.
The ranking was determined by one simple rule:
The number of enemy mages defeated.
“And if we don’t accept these results?”
The Blood Tower leader boldly challenged.
“You had full control over the battlefield. You saw everything and gave all the orders—this ranking is whatever you decide it to be.”
- You’re not wrong.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Oscar acknowledged the truth without hesitation and then calmly stated his stance.
- But if you don’t accept the results... you’ll have to fight us.
“......”
The Blood Tower leader turned to stare at Black Tower’s Blark Heim.
Honestly, he had wanted to settle the hierarchy between them.
But this wasn’t the right time.
If the White Tower joined in...
They were guaranteed to lose.
‘Tch. No choice, then.’
Relying on the White Tower’s power to avoid elimination—only to demand a better ranking—was a fool’s move.
With a sigh, he nodded.
“I accept the results.”
“As do I.”
“Same here.”
With the Black and Purple Towers also agreeing, the rest was simple.
Each Tower’s remaining mages forfeited in order.
It was a strangely serene ending.
Just moments ago, blood had been spilled across the battlefield—
Yet now, the conclusion was reached in peace.
“......”
Blark Heim of the Black Tower glanced toward a distant northern stronghold before forfeiting.
‘A monster...’
The real reason Oscar wasn’t here in person.
There may have been other factors, but one stood above the rest.
‘It must be to prevent the other Magic Towers from getting any unnecessary greed after the battle ends.’
If he had been here, the remaining three Magic Towers might have had other thoughts.
If they could just capture the King of the White Tower, they could eliminate him regardless of the reason.
‘He didn’t even consider coming. He intended to create no variables whatsoever.’
He was an astonishingly meticulous and cold-blooded man.
‘Of course, that’s not the only reason.’
Looking around, he saw the White Tower's mages waiting for him to forfeit.
It was clear that the White Tower had grown stronger.
The overall skill level of their 4th-level mages was evidently solid.
‘And moreover...’
His gaze swept over a few individuals who stood out.
Killian Lockwood, Fran Sirius, Veronica Fricks.
They were all figures who had shone exceptionally bright on the battlefield.
‘We’ll have to work hard too.’
If they wanted to catch up to their already-advanced rivals, they couldn’t afford to stay idle.
"Congratulations, White Tower."
With those words, Blark declared his forfeiture.
At the same time, an announcement rang out.
[Only one Magic Tower remains inside the arena.]
[As of this moment, the Game of Kings is over.]
[The winner of the competition is the White Tower.]
In the afternoon, the results ceremony awaited.
The court mage who had commentated on the dungeon escape match, Andre Bright, took the microphone.
"The 8th Night of Mages event has officially concluded. Everyone is exhausted, so I won’t drag this out. Let’s announce the final winner."
Shhh.
A final ranking board was displayed in the arena.
1st place: White Tower, 19 points
2nd place: Red Tower, 18 points
3rd place: Yellow Tower, 17 points
4th place: Black Tower, 16 points
5th place: Blood Tower, 13 points
5th place: Blue Tower, 13 points
7th place: Purple Tower, 7 points
8th place: Green Tower, 5 points
"What an incredible, truly incredible turn of events!"
Looking at the ranking board, Andre became excited and raised his voice.
"The Black Tower and the Blood Tower, which have received high praise in recent years, have finally proven that their skills are not just rumors! The Blood Tower tied with the Blue Tower for 5th place, while the Black Tower proudly secured 4th place, proving that they can compete with the Four Great Towers!"
However, everyone affiliated with the eight Magic Towers knew who the real protagonist of the day was.
"The White Tower has endured all sorts of speculation and criticism as one of the Four Great Towers. Some even questioned whether they deserved to remain among the elite. But today! They have defied all expectations and claimed ultimate victory, proving to the world why they still belong among the Four Great Towers!"
When Sasha Maestro stepped forward to receive the award on behalf of the White Tower, its mages began wiping away tears.
"...Elder, are you crying?"
"Shut up."
Even Maxim's eyes were reddened—he must have been deeply moved.
Seeing that, Oscar smirked, and Sasha continued her speech.
"I may have received this award as the White Tower’s representative, but it is merely a symbolic role. The true recipients of this honor are the mages of the White Tower who participated in the competition. I promise, here and now, that we will continue to support them in their journey to becoming great mages."
Clap, clap, clap, clap.
The mages gave a standing ovation, and next, the final MVP of the competition was announced.
"This part even surprised me personally. The panel of judges, consisting of each Tower’s representatives, reached a unanimous decision."
Unanimous.
At that word, everyone instinctively turned to look at Oscar.
If it wasn’t him, no one else could justify such a result.
"The final MVP of the 8th Night of Mages is White Tower’s Mage, Oscar Crucian!"
Clap, clap, clap.
Oscar moved onto the stage, received a bouquet and a plaque, and then delivered his acceptance speech in a completely indifferent tone.
"Thank you. To share this joy and honor with everyone, starting next week, all White Tower potions will be 15% off. I hope for your interest and purchases."
"......."
"......."
The mages in the audience were left speechless.
Wasn’t this the moment to talk about gratitude and hardships?
‘That guy really is something else.’
‘Promoting potions at a time like this... well, at least it’s effective.’
‘A 15% discount, huh? Maybe I should stock up while it’s cheap.’
As Oscar stepped down from the stage, he met Andre’s incredulous gaze head-on.
"You really are... fascinating."
"Is that so?"
"Watching you reminds me of an old friend I often wanted to smack in the head."
"You must have been quite close."
"Well, that might have been just my perspective."
Andre gave a faint smile and extended his hand.
"Regardless, it was an honor to witness a mage who will lead the next generation."
"I will lead them well."
"...You really refuse to say anything else, huh?"
"If not me, then who else will lead?"
"Hah. You really remind me of that guy."
Shaking his head, Andre gestured toward the hallway.
"If you follow this hallway, there’s someone waiting for you."
"Someone waiting for me?"
"You’ll receive a special award for being MVP. And I’m sure you know who’s giving it to you."
It’s probably Prince Berkan.
Oscar nodded slowly and bid Andre farewell.
He walked down the corridor and knocked on the door.
From inside, a voice told him to enter.
However, when he stepped into the room, he found it completely empty.
"......."
Had they not arrived yet?
As he walked across the room and sat on the sofa—
A voice echoed from the crystal ball on the table.
—Ah, you’ve arrived.
"......!"
There are some voices that remain unforgettable, even with the passage of time.
The voice of a sovereign.
The voice of one who has ruled over people and stood above them all his life.
A voice carrying such charisma flowed from the crystal ball.
‘The Emperor?’
Oscar’s eyes widened in shock as he quickly stood up.
And at that moment, the Emperor’s voice carried an ominous question.
—So, how is your new life? Are you enjoying it?
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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