The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
[Translator - Night]
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Chapter 268: Null City (5)
The only light where they had been was the glow of the elevator.
Now that the elevator was gone, they were left in pitch-black darkness.
“It’s too dark. I can’t see a thing.”
“Ah, sorry. I think I just stepped on someone’s foot.”
“...That was my foot, actually. Please, I’m begging you, just stay still.”
They each tried casting Light magic, but the darkness would not disperse.
Clearly, this was no ordinary darkness.
With a shaky voice, Veronica asked,
“Oscar, can’t you just use your spatial magic to get us out of here?”
“I’ve actually been trying since a while ago...”
But the subspace refused to open.
To be more precise, the moment the subspace appeared, it vanished again, over and over.
Like a candle flame flickering in the wind, unstable and unreliable.
At his explanation, Fran muttered,
“Hmm, then this space itself must be special?”
“Yeah. The broken communication, the darkness, the inability to scan the terrain... One thing is certain, this isn’t a normal space.”
Oscar glanced around at the void he could not see.
“I think we’re in a spatial rift.”
“A spatial rift? What’s that supposed to be?”
“According to Master Ado, it’s the place spatial mages must fear most.”
Recalling his master’s words, he explained,
“Put simply, it’s a byproduct of space that failed to fully form. Everything here is unstable and chaotic. Even the most skilled space mage can be swallowed if they lose focus for a moment.”
“Then... does that mean the culprit is a spatial mage too?”
“That’s the tricky part. If the other side truly mastered space, they wouldn’t need to resort to such a crude trick.”
“Then what’s your theory?”
“It’s one of two things, either they have an artifact tied to space, or they’re a half-baked space mage with shallow understanding.”
Listening quietly, Killian asked,
“Isn’t there any way to tell which it is?”
“There is.”
Even as he spoke, Oscar was already gathering mana.
“World Liberation.”
His world surged outward, devouring the space around them.
Then he swiftly retracted it, explaining,
“It’s not an artifact. This feels like someone dabbling in space magic without true mastery.”
“How do you know that?”
“If it had been an artifact-created space, no way it could’ve endured even my half-strength World Liberation at level six.”
Even weakened, his ability held immense power.
Containing that force would be too much for any mere artifact.
Veronica raised a doubt,
“But what if it were a national-treasure level artifact? I heard those are incredible.”
“Possible, yes. But no artifact of that grade would ever produce something this shoddy.”
“Ah, that makes sense.”
She nodded, then asked nervously,
“...You’re not about to say you don’t know how to escape this spatial rift, are you?”
“Relax. I do know. Battles between spatial mages usually go like this, one side poses a problem, the other side has to solve it. Right now, I’m the one solving.”
After all, they were trapped inside the opponent’s imperfect space.
And the solution was deceptively simple.
“Spatial rifts are inherently unstable. Normally, they collapse quickly on their own.”
But if someone created it deliberately, it was different.
They would have to continuously maintain and repair it.
Oscar scanned the darkness.
“Somewhere in here, there’s a spatial thread keeping this rift intact. If I find and pull it, the rift collapses and I can use my magic freely again.”
“Obviously you don’t know where it is, right?”
“Nope. We’ll have to move and look for it.”
All three of the others groaned quietly.
Because that meant wandering blind through utter darkness.
“Isn’t that too dangerous? We don’t even know the layout here.”
“I’ll handle that part.”
“Wait, didn’t you already fail with Wind Archive earlier?”
“Yes, but that was with Wind Archive.”
A true mage always prepares more than one method.
Blue light gleamed in Oscar’s eyes.
Suddenly, even in the black void, a world of threads became visible.
‘Spatial threads.’
He spread them outward, tugging gently.
It was a technique inspired by Oran’s thread-weaving from the Red Mountains.
‘Sight of the Strings.’
The threads stretched into the darkness.
Some struck walls.
Some reached endlessly forward.
From this, Oscar pieced together the rough shape of the space.
“Done. We’ve got three possible paths.”
“And for the record, no splitting up.”
Veronica’s tone was firm, almost desperate.
“In horror stories, when people split up in situations like this, that’s always when the killer or ghost picks them off one by one!”
“Well... she’s not wrong. Staying together is safest.”
Though her metaphor was comical, Oscar agreed.
“There’s no reason for us to separate. Let’s stick together.”
“Phew.”
“See? Becky’s more cowardly than she lets on.”
“Shut it. You’re just too reckless, Fran.”
“I think I’m normal. Right, Killian?”
“Correct. Ghosts are nothing more than illusions born of weak hearts. A deranged level-seven murderer is far scarier.”
Ignoring their banter, Oscar said,
“Alright, line up. Hands on the shoulders in front.”
Someone placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Uh, whose hand is this?”
“M-mine, Fran.”
“Alright, then the next one—”
“I’ve got yours. Wait, this is your shoulder, right?”
“...Who else would it be? Yes, it’s mine.”
So it was Oscar, Fran, then Veronica.
And the tallest, Killian, took the rear, resting his hand on Veronica’s shoulder.
“Let’s move.”
Oscar led them forward.
Surprisingly, even with hands linked, walking in sync was awkward.
“Ugh. We’re too slow. Should we chant a marching rhythm or something?”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just walk separately?”
“N-no! That’s when ghosts snatch people one by one!”
“Then let’s do this.”
Oscar conjured magical threads and tied them around their wrists.
“There. Now we’re tethered.”
“This feels like being walked like a dog. Not a fan.”
“Better than getting kidnapped by ghosts.”
“...”
Ignoring Veronica’s grumbling, they pressed on, much faster now.
“Oscar, are we close?”
“Almost there.”
At the end of the first path, he examined the spatial threads—
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Only to shake his head.
“Not this way. Let’s go back and try the second.”
“Alright. One of the two left has to be right.”
Veronica’s voice was calmer now, reassured by the lack of danger so far.
“Hm?”
Oscar tugged each thread to check.
And frowned.
“Huh?”
“Yikes. Did you just pull the string?”
“Yeah, but...”
The third thread—the one that should’ve connected to Killian—came slack into his hand.
‘The thread snapped? When?’
If it had snapped, he should’ve noticed.
A taut thread always goes limp when cut.
But he hadn’t realized until he tugged it.
That meant his perception had been dulled without him knowing.
Swallowing hard, Oscar called,
“Killian? Killian?”
No response.
The others noticed too.
“What? Where’s Killian?”
“Wait, he’s gone?”
“Both of you, calm down.”
Oscar forced calm on them.
Veronica, whom he expected to panic, was eerily silent.
“....”
Too silent.
Oscar tugged the second thread—Veronica’s.
It, too, slid loose.
“Uh, Oscar? Becky’s way too quiet...”
“Fran, stay calm. I think... we’re facing the worst-case scenario.”
But again, no answer.
Oscar tugged the last three threads—
All of them came free, lifeless.
“...Shit.”
Companions vanishing without sound or magical disturbance.
Oscar bolted back the way they’d come.
‘It’s not too late yet.’
If he could collapse the rift fast enough, maybe he could still save them.
He reached the end of the second path.
“Damn it!”
Another dead end.
Cursing, he ran harder.
‘Fine. This is better.’
Only one path remained.
The thread had to be there.
“....”
At the end of the last path, his eyes finally wavered.
‘Why...?’
The spatial thread wasn’t there either.
Panic rose in his throat, but he forced himself to think.
‘There is no such thing as a rift without a solution. Master Ado said so. He was never wrong.’
That meant he had overlooked something.
‘What did I miss?’
He replayed everything from the start.
And found one oddity.
‘The missing mages’ traces.’
There hadn’t been any.
If the culprit had been abducting them here, there should’ve been some sign.
‘So why none? Did each group get pulled into separate rifts?’
No.
Even he couldn’t create ten rifts at once, let alone inside an unstable one.
‘Then what’s different between them and us...?’
Hypothesis, contradiction, discard.
Repeat.
Until one thought struck him.
“...The elevator.”
They had escaped before the elevator fell, after noticing Prometheus’s trick.
But what if the others hadn’t?
‘Chances are, they didn’t.’
Even they themselves might’ve gone down with it, had he not sensed something off.
‘So the missing mages...’
Oscar looked down, into the abyss below where the elevator had plunged.
The darkness showed nothing.
If his guess was wrong, he’d be wasting the precious golden time to save his comrades.
‘But if every impossibility is eliminated, the lone remaining option must be the truth.’
Oscar cloaked himself in wind like a mantle—
And hurled himself into the depths.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]

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