The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 159: Saint Hill (2)
As they stepped inside the temple, the fog grew even denser.
Beyond the white mist, there was an eerie atmosphere, as if something might leap out at any moment.
Scanning their surroundings with uneasy eyes, Fran made a suggestion.
"Hey, hey. Oscar. Isn't it kind of wrong to barge in without the owner's permission?"
"...For once, you’re making sense. Hey, this is trespassing. We should leave right now."
Oscar gave the cowardly duo, who kept insisting they should leave, a look of pure disdain.
"Shut up. You're just scared, aren't you?"
"Yeah, that’s right. Honestly, I feel like I’m about to die of fear. So, can we please leave?"
"Hah! I just don’t like the vibe of this place, okay? It’s not like I’m scared or anything!"
"...Cowards."
Ignoring them, Oscar calmly spoke with Killian.
"Oscar. I think the ones who let us in want something from us."
"I think so too."
There was only one reason for that thought—while the mist blanketed everything around them, one particular path remained clear, standing out in contrast.
"...It's like they’re luring us in this direction."
Killian muttered softly, turning his head.
"What will you do?"
"Hmm."
After a brief moment of thought, Oscar suddenly summoned a gust of wind.
Whoooosh!
A powerful wind blew, sending everyone's hair and clothes fluttering, but the fog remained completely unmoved.
"Guess we have no choice. Let’s play along with whatever they want—for now."
"Understood."
As the two confidently strode forward along the path, Fran shouted after them.
"Hey! You’re really going? T-Then can we just stay at the entrance and guard the car?"
"...Ugh, damn it. Just come along."
Clenching her lips in frustration, Veronica dragged Fran along as she followed.
Oscar glanced back at them with a look of mild surprise.
"You actually followed? You could’ve stayed outside, you know."
"And let you tell me to sit back and guard your car? Don’t make me laugh."
She spoke tough, but her anxious gaze darted around constantly.
So she really doesn’t like scary things, huh?
"Oscar!"
Just then, Killian called out after spotting something.
Approaching the source of the call, Oscar found Killian standing in front of a small hut made of woven straw.
"What is this? A hut?"
"And there’s more than just one."
Indeed, in the relatively clear area ahead, numerous huts stretched out before them.
Fran swallowed hard as he hesitantly spoke.
"I’ve never seen a hut before... Surely, this isn’t where people actually lived, right?"
"We’ll know if we check."
After inspecting a few huts, Oscar nodded.
"There are traces of people living here. In other words, these huts were actual residences."
"How miserable."
"No kidding."
The temple’s grandeur on the outside sharply contrasted with the bleak conditions of these living quarters.
Once again, Oscar was grateful he hadn’t followed these people in his past life.
They had bragged about it like it was some paradise, but in reality, it wasn’t even fit for animals.
"...But where are all the people?"
Veronica’s question prompted them to scan their surroundings.
There were countless huts, yet not a single trace of human presence—not even a strand of hair.
"Hold on."
Closing his eyes, Oscar expanded his magic detection ability.
However, the strange mist obstructed him, preventing him from sensing beyond his immediate surroundings.
For now, he could only gather information about this specific area.
"Hmm?"
Yet something was off—he detected only five human presences.
Oscar opened his eyes and quickly counted his allies.
"One, two, three."
Including himself, that made four.
Narrowing his eyes, he aimed a Wind Cutter at a particular spot.
"Come out."
"..."
No response.
Without hesitation, Oscar unleashed the Wind Cutter, slicing a hut in half.
"Ahhh! Just kill me already, you damn cult bastards!"
Inside the hut, a man curled up, shielding his head with his arms.
He was nothing but skin and bones.
Crunch, crunch.
The man devoured the chocolate and jerky they had given him without pause.
"We're not going to steal your food. Eat slower, will you?"
At Veronica’s blunt remark, the man belatedly blushed and swallowed.
"Ahem, apologies. I haven’t eaten anything in days..."
"You haven’t eaten for days? Why?"
"One moment."
After rinsing his mouth with water, the man wiped his lips with his sleeve before kneeling.
"First, thank you for sharing your food. My name is Paul Neus, and I’m a journalist for Poppy Times."
"A journalist?"
Oscar raised an eyebrow at the unexpected introduction.
"Alright, Mr. Paul. Would you mind answering a few questions?"
"Of course! Ask me anything."
"Appreciate it. First—how did you end up here?"
"Hmm."
At that question, Paul’s face darkened as he cautiously asked:
"Have you ever heard of a newspaper called Poppy Times?"
"..."
The four exchanged glances before shaking their heads in unison.
"I figured as much. Not surprising, really. Our newspaper is so small that it wouldn’t be strange if it shut down any day now."
Adjusting his crooked glasses, Paul continued speaking.
“We needed a big scoop. Otherwise, we would’ve had to shut down and find another job. So while looking for a good source... the Salvation Church caught my eye.”
“No way...?”
As Oscar frowned, the man averted his gaze and admitted his fault.
“Of course, the boss was against it. He said they were lunatics, and if we got caught, forget the scoop—our lives would be in danger. But I was desperate to get a big story, no matter what.”
“So you intentionally infiltrated this place?”
“It was easy. I put on some rags, sat on the street, and shivered. The believers approached me on their own.”
Living as long as he had, he never expected to meet someone who would willingly volunteer to enter a place like this.
Fran looked at him as if he were some fascinating new specimen.
“So, Mr. Paul, how long have you been here?”
“Hmm, quite a while. About four months?”
“Four months!?”
Spending that much time just for a scoop?
Oscar clicked his tongue in disbelief.
“Honestly, that’s impressive. So what did you do for those four months?”
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
“Not much. Ate meals every day, talked to the people here, and got to know them. The more reference material I had, the better for writing an article. Most of them were orphans or homeless. Ah! And every few days, the priests would assign tasks. They said that if we succeeded in casting the magic they taught us, we could move to better rooms deeper inside the temple.”
“Magic? Could you show us what kind they taught you?”
“Uh, well... Let’s see.”
Paul picked up a small stone and began drawing something on the ground.
“They had us try using magic with something like this.”
“......”
The four of them exchanged glances.
It was no wonder—they immediately recognized what Paul had drawn.
“This is a magic circle used to identify the four major magic attributes. They took people inside if they managed to produce magic?”
“Yes. But not everyone who succeeded was taken. There was a middle-aged man named Hans, who acted as a leader among the homeless. He managed to create a small spark of magic, but they didn’t take him.”
That likely meant the Salvation Church wasn’t just looking for magic users, but rather those with special attributes.
So far, nothing about this was particularly unusual.
Even in the early days of the Magic Tower, they used to take in orphans and test their magical aptitude before training them.
But then, Paul’s expression darkened.
“But... about two months ago, something changed.”
“Two months ago? What exactly changed?”
“The priests started taking one person inside every day.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”
“At first, we thought so too, and we envied those who were taken... But then, that Hans guy I mentioned—one morning, he suddenly gathered us all and told us we had to escape. That if we didn’t, we’d all die. He said he saw something the night before.”
“Did he tell you what he saw?”
Paul shook his head.
“He didn’t say. Just told us it wasn’t worth knowing... and then that evening, the priests dragged him inside the temple.”
Oscar, who had been listening quietly, asked,
“And none of the people taken inside ever came back?”
“...Not a single one.”
Tears welled up in Paul’s eyes and started falling like raindrops.
“I’m the only one left. Yesterday, there was still an eight-year-old boy with me. I swore I’d protect him, that if they came for someone next, I would go instead... But they took the boy.”
“......”
Watching a grown man sob so openly should have been a pitiful sight.
But for some reason, it just felt unbearably sad.
He must have been terrified.
To be left alone in this place, watching everyone else disappear, knowing that he was next.
“It’s okay.”
Thud, thud.
Oscar patted his shoulder reassuringly.
“You’ve done your duty as a journalist. Leave the rest to us.”
“...Can you save the innocent people who were taken inside?”
“We’ll do our best.”
As the four of them stood up, Paul scrambled to his feet as well, hesitating before asking,
“Um... I know it’s late to ask, but... who are you people? I’ve never seen outsiders here before.”
“Took you long enough to ask.”
Whoosh!
Oscar pulled a pristine white robe over his shoulders and answered,
“We are mages of the White Tower.”
Ah~♬ Ah~♪
A sacred melody echoed through the machinery-filled control room, creating an oddly reverent atmosphere.
One of the priests, staring at a holographic monitor, cautiously spoke up.
“Brother, are you sure this is okay?”
“What is?”
“Those mages from earlier. Isn’t it risky to let them in? What if they cause trouble?”
“Not this again.”
The priest in the Salvation Church’s robes shook his head, exasperated.
“What’s the problem? The High Priest ordered us to produce results before the deadline anyway. Brother, what we should be worried about is whether any of those four turn out to have special attributes.”
“But... I saw their emblems. They’re from the White Tower...”
“The White Tower? Even better. That place is a ruin now, isn’t it?”
“The last time I read the news, they seemed to be doing pretty well. They’re even selling potions.”
“The news? When was that?”
“Well, over two months ago...”
“Then it’s fine. How much could they have improved in two months? The White Tower is still the White Tower.”
The senior priest watched through the holographic display as the four figures stepped into the temple’s inner sanctum.
“Release them now. And tell the handlers to be gentle—mages’ bodies are valuable.”
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

Comments

Loading...