The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 190: The Miracle Healer (4)
There are many strong people in the world.
People call a level 7 master the "sky," but even they are beneath the sky beyond the sky.
These are the monsters who have stepped into the realm of level 8—typically the heads of the Magic Towers or the patriarchs of the sword clans.
So, did these people suddenly become level 7 or 8 one day?
No.
They, too, once were just level 1 or 2.
The only difference was... yes, they were special from the very beginning.
Their talent was explosive—overflowing potential so obvious that anyone could see it, destined to erupt someday.
They had that.
“......”
“......”
A strange silence lingered in the upscale tailor shop.
The two men stared at the uninvited guest, deep in thought.
Oscar Crucian, also known as ‘The Noble’.
He was one of those "different from the start" types.
Just a few months ago, he had only been level 1—but now, he was growing at a pace never before seen in history.
And the ones who knew how terrifying that was... were none other than the Black Fingers themselves.
‘Orders from the top: absolutely no contact.’
Rumor had it that Dirje and Neil Brion—sent to kill him—had gone missing.
Of course, it was unlikely that a mere level 4 like him had handled them directly.
But still, caution never hurt.
In fact, Oscar’s danger level had been significantly raised within the Black Fingers.
Every villain who crossed paths with him had ended up dead.
Yet the tailor, far from nervous, smiled gently.
“If you’re not here to drop off clothes, then... what brings you in today?”
“There was a terrorist attack a few hours ago.”
“Terrorism, in the capital? Horrifying.”
“Yes, a terrible incident.”
Oscar silently stared at the two men for a moment, then suddenly shook his head.
“Let’s cut the crap.”
“...Excuse me?”
“This little farce isn’t even funny. I already know everything.”
He fixed his gaze on the man standing by the desk.
“I know that you handed the terrorist a note with orders in the plaza this morning.”
“...!”
The man couldn’t help but be slightly surprised.
He’d taken care not to leave any trace—hadn’t used any magic at all.
He had even issued the orders using an old-fashioned handwritten note, thinking it quaint and untraceable.
“How did you know?”
Tsk.
The tailor clicked his tongue, as if admitting fault.
They were too far in now for denials to mean anything.
Oscar’s eyes turned cold as he looked at the two of them.
“Unbelievable. Demons running a business in the heart of the capital like it’s nothing.”
“We pay rent, we pay taxes. Why shouldn’t we?”
Oscar shrugged at the bold reply.
That level of shamelessness was on par with demons themselves.
“I’ll give you two choices.”
Oscar raised two fingers.
“Come with me quietly to the Imperial Palace... or be dragged there half-crippled.”
“......”
“......”
The two men exchanged glances, conversing silently with their eyes.
‘If a fight breaks out, the city guards will be here soon.’
‘So, we just go with him quietly?’
‘Of course not. We take him out as fast as possible, burn the shop, and escape the capital.
A reasonable plan—after all, Oscar was only level 4.
And both of them were level 5.
“You’re asking for it.”
The moment Oscar’s expression turned icy at the creeping miasma of dark energy around them—
The unnamed man lunged at him violently.
Shrouded in dark energy, he unleashed a devastating punch powered by his entire body.
“RAAHHH!”
Whoooosh!
The air was torn apart by the force of his blow.
If it landed, it would crush not just flesh, but bones and internal organs too.
But Oscar didn’t even blink.
He knew—it wouldn’t land.
“Wall of Wind.”
Whoosh!
A barrier instantly appeared in front of him.
A wall?
Made of wind?
If it had been the Lightning Wall of the Yellow Tower or the Fire Wall of the Red Tower, he might have hesitated.
Being burned and scorched was a real threat.
But this was just... wind.
“You’re thinking, ‘It’s just wind,’ aren’t you?”
Oscar murmured, as if reading his thoughts.
The man flinched, but it was too late to stop.
He clenched his teeth and struck with even more speed and power.
BOOOOM!
“...?”
His punch was completely blocked.
By nothing more than a wall of wind.
Staring in disbelief, the man looked at the wall stopping his fist.
‘What the hell...?’
His fist trembled as if hitting something immense.
It felt like punching the sky itself.
“The Yellow Tower’s Lightning Wall and Red Tower’s Fire Wall—those are level 5 intermediate spells.”
But the White Tower’s wall was one step above—a level 6 intermediate spell.
Why?
Because it was harder and more complex to learn.
‘The Wall of Wind contains ultra-compressed air.’
Air compressed dozens of times over couldn’t be pierced by mere physical force.
Maybe a master no longer bound by biological limits could—
But a level 5?
Not even close.
‘And one more thing...’
This spell didn’t just block—it also struck back.
The White Tower’s magic was all about balance: offense and defense in harmony.
Snap!
Oscar snapped his fingers.
The wind barrier shot forward.
It slashed through the man’s body in an instant and vanished.
“...That’s one down.”
He murmured briefly—
SHHHHHHK!
And the man collapsed, blood spraying from countless wounds.
“B-Bane!”
The tailor cried out, watching his comrade fall.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
He bit his lip and rolled his eyes frantically.
‘Damn it. Dirje wasn’t taken out by outside help.
Now he could see it with his own eyes.
Oscar Crucian—he was no longer just a level 4 mage.
At least level 5. No, to take out Bane so easily—minimum level 6.
‘But...’
Was that even possible?
Just a few months ago, that guy had been level 1.
As doubt clouded his vision and his pupils trembled—
Snap!
Oscar snapped his fingers again.
A violent gust slammed into the tailor—
And that was the last thing he remembered before blacking out.
To sum up: Oscar ended up in the Imperial Palace.
Not by choice—more like, half by force.
“So... the people you fought with were behind the terrorist attack on the Miracle Clinic today?”
“Yes.”
The official, who had been staring at him with a “Are you serious?” expression, nodded.
“Well, okay... Yes, I’ve received the call. Yes, that’s correct. Yes. Wha—yes!?”
At that moment, the official, who had taken out his communicator at the sound of a ringtone and answered the call, glanced at him.
“Ah, understood. I’ll send him right away—no, I’ll escort him myself.”
After hanging up, the official looked at him with a confused expression before speaking cautiously.
“Professor, it seems you need to come with me.”
“To where?”
In response to the question, the official swallowed nervously and replied,
“His Majesty is requesting your presence.”
Oscar raised his eyebrows in surprise.
Of course, he had figured that once word of his capture spread, the Shadows would make their move.
But he hadn’t expected the Emperor himself to get involved.
Walking through the vast Imperial Palace under the official’s guidance, Oscar gave a faint smile.
‘It’s just like I remember.’
To some, it might look like an old-fashioned and outdated castle.
But to him, it was the only place that perfectly preserved the memories of his past.
“This way, please.”
Someone waiting in the hallway raised his hand.
Oscar recognized him.
“Didn’t expect to meet you again in the Imperial Palace of all places.”
Andre Bright.
An 8th-level court mage who had once served as a commentator during the Night of Mages.
Oscar gave a gentle smile to the man he had a connection with even in his previous life.
“I didn’t expect it either. Still, it’s good to see you again.”
“Hah, even in this situation, you’ve got manners. Aren’t you nervous?”
“Why?”
“Well... Never mind.”
Andre looked at Oscar as if he were some kind of marvel.
Even those with nerves of steel couldn’t hide their anxiety on the way to meet the Emperor.
He was, after all, the ruler of this vast continent, the sovereign of the Empire, the one and only sun.
“Come with me. You may return now.”
“Th-thank you!”
Sending the official off, Andre gave Oscar a once-over with a curious expression.
“You... have made some incredible progress in the time we haven’t seen each other.”
“I’ve been lucky.”
“Luck? Hah.”
Even though he tried to hide it, it seemed the eyes of an 8th-level mage saw through it all.
Andre let out an incredulous chuckle.
“If leveling up twice in just a few months is luck, then the world would be full of 9th-level mages.”
“...I’ve worked hard too.”
“Hmm.”
Andre stroked his chin, pondering something.
“If we look through history, there are plenty of mages or knights who reached level 6 at a younger age than you...”
They were exceptional from an early age.
Some had reached level 2 before they even turned ten.
But Oscar had been just a level 1 mage only a few months ago.
“In terms of speed alone... no one surpasses you.”
Andre clicked his tongue, his expression growing serious.
“But rapid growth can sometimes be a poison. Sometimes, it’s important to pause, take in your surroundings, and look back. You might notice things now that you couldn’t before.”
“Thank you for the advice.”
It was the kind of advice that came at the perfect time.
With a soft smile and gentle eyes, Oscar nodded, prompting Andre to chuckle and resume walking.
“Professor Vesalius regained consciousness a few hours ago. Tests show your friend is also unharmed.”
“Ah, that’s a relief.”
Just hearing that he had regained consciousness brought Oscar comfort.
Had he failed to save someone who was right beside him, it would have left a sour feeling.
“...Is it true that the ones you brought in are connected to the terrorist attack on the treatment center?”
“Yes.”
The man asking was Andre Bright.
Since they were both Shadow Trackers, Oscar gave a straightforward answer.
“Those guys are members of Black Finger.”
Andre froze.
He stopped in his tracks without realizing it, then turned around with startled eyes.
“What did you just say?”
“Black Finger. The two guys arrested today are both demons.”
“Hmmm...”
Andre let out a deep sigh and tightly closed his eyes.
Seeing that, Oscar asked,
“Do you believe me?”
“Well, it’ll come out in the investigation anyway. You’ve got nothing to gain from lying about something like that.”
It was a logical conclusion.
And in just that short moment, the lines around Andre’s eyes seemed to deepen.
“Whew... Demons hiding in the heart of the capital. I have no face to show His Majesty.”
“They’re hard to distinguish when they go to great lengths to conceal themselves.”
“...True. If they really try to hide, it’s not easy to find them.”
At that moment, they arrived in front of the Emperor’s office.
Andre knocked, and a deep voice responded from within.
“Come in.”
Andre opened the door and stepped inside, revealing the Emperor seated at his desk.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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