[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
Chapter 263: Days of the White Tower (4)
“...Is that a ghost?”
“It’s a person.”
When he stepped into the Special Division office for the first time in a while, Fran’s eyes went wide as he greeted him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Well, I am the head of this division.”
At the very least, he had to check the backlog of paperwork.
As Oscar sat down with a weary face, Fran tilted his head.
“Why do you look so tired again?”
“It’s not that I look tired, I actually am tired. I’ve had way too much on my plate.”
After treating the Emperor, he had crossed the Red Mountains to rescue Edna and recover the White Tower’s documents.
Then came the White Night Festival, and just when he thought he could finally rest, he got dragged into the mess with Lloyd and the Red Tower Master.
‘That was a completely insane schedule.’
His body had suffered plenty, but it was the mental strain that had eaten away at him the most.
What was shocking was that all of this had happened in barely a month.
It felt more like half a year.
“Phew.”
Oscar exhaled deeply as he flipped through the papers.
“Nothing much happened here, right?”
“Wish there was. I’m bored to death these days.”
Fran pouted, looking genuinely restless.
“Becky’s always training, won’t even hang out with me.”
“What about Killian?”
“He should be here any moment.”
No sooner had the words left his lips than the office door opened.
“...Is that a ghost?”
“It’s a person.”
Veronica stepped inside, spotting him, and pulled a displeased face.
“What, are you fully back now?”
“I never really left—”
Oscar trailed off.
Considering how long he’d left the position unattended, it felt wrong to insist.
“Well, once the training hall remodel is finished, the Special Division will be back in action.”
Most of the other divisions ran themselves just fine thanks to the capable people he had installed—Lena White, Pedro Ex, Hagor.
They’d lead their respective branches without his oversight.
‘Now that I think of it, I should pass on the potion department headship soon, too.’
All those bothersome titles, he’d hand them down and live a quieter life.
He quickly reviewed the paperwork, but then the last missing member of the division walked in.
“Been a while, everyone.”
“Killian!”
Fran jumped up, delighted.
“Do you realize how long it’s been?”
“Close to two months. Once I went back to the forest, there was too much work piled up.”
He carried himself with a subtle air of ease—and for good reason.
Killian had returned as a Level 5 mage.
‘And not just the beginning of it, either.’
He was already mid-Level 5.
His new tattoos weren’t the only proof; dueling forest warriors had honed his combat abilities, too.
Oscar chuckled as he asked:
“What on earth did you do there to grow this much?”
“...You’re hardly one to talk.”
Killian gave him a look, then let out a faintly helpless smile.
“Somehow, you’re always a few steps ahead. It feels like chasing a mirage.”
“So you don’t like it?”
“Not at all.”
Killian firmly shook his head.
“Having someone ahead of me to chase is a blessing.”
“Good attitude.”
That boldness—truly worthy of a forest tribe.
“One at Level 5, one at Level 6…”
Veronica’s eyes went back and forth between the two, then fixed on Killian.
“Alright. You’re first. Spar with me after this.”
“Not bad. I wanted to spar against a mage too, not just the forest warriors.”
“What, and leave me out? The two of you, huh?”
A sparring match.
Come to think of it, he had taught Veronica “Over Craft” some time ago. He’d taught Fran “Breath of Steel” even earlier.
By now, they should be fairly proficient.
Oscar considered it.
‘Maybe I should collect some data from them.’
He’d already received approval to construct a subspace training chamber.
With these three, he could get meaningful results.
Oscar stood.
“A sparring match sounds good. But let’s change locations first.”
* * *
The idea of a subspace training chamber had been in his mind for a while.
If he could make it work, no training room could compare.
‘Even if the Yellow Tower brags about future tech, they can’t beat subspace.’
In subspace, time flowed differently.
One hour outside could mean years inside.
“...So basically, you’re telling us we’re your lab rats in this new space?”
“‘Lab rats’ is a harsh term.”
Oscar looked wounded at Fran’s suspicious glare.
“Pioneers, beta testers—there are nicer words, right?”
“Are there side effects?”
“Not exactly... oh.”
Oscar suddenly remembered.
Once, he’d felt something’s gaze while inside subspace.
‘But that was during portal travel, not subspace itself, so it should be fine.’
Still, hearing this, Fran recoiled instantly.
“No way! I’m not doing it! What if something creepy pops out?”
“W-wait. That only happened once, and never again!”
Oscar explained the incident in detail.
“And portals are different from subspace.”
“Are you kidding? They’re both space magic.”
“Look, this should make sense.”
He conjured a sheet of paper from mana and held it up.
“A portal is like this—you fold the paper and poke a hole. When you unfold it, see? Two holes left behind. Subspace, though—”
He folded the sheet into a neat little box.
“You make an entirely separate space. Same medium, different process.”
“...Okay, I get it. Same ingredients, different recipe?”
“Exactly!”
To prove safety beyond doubt, Oscar called in Lloyd as a witness.
“...You mean the subspace itself? Yes, I’ve lived in there for over a year, and I never once felt any such gaze.”
The word of an 8th-level mage.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]
At that, Fran finally relaxed a little.
“Something for the division?”
“Calling it that works, yeah.”
Oscar nodded.
“We’ll be visiting the Great Temple to register with the Shadow Stalkers.”
“Shadow Stalkers? What’s that?”
“And why the Great Temple?”
So many questions from one sentence.
Oscar kept it short.
“It’s a group that specializes in what we do. To join, we need proof from the Temple.”
He had already arranged with the Emperor that these troublemakers would join alongside him, securing them independent authority.
“Oscar, have you spoken to Kiri Gloria recently?”
“...That’s sudden.”
The name tilted his head.
Kiri Gloria, the Black Tower’s Level 5 ace.
The one who had given him the artifact that kept nightmares away.
It had crumbled to ash once its uses were spent, but still.
“No, we’re not exactly in touch. Why?”
“A letter came for you yesterday. Addressed to the Division.”
“Oh right, that express delivery.”
Fran recalled.
Express post wasn’t cheap; no one used it unless it was urgent.
Not that money meant much to someone like the Black Tower’s ace.
“It should be on the desk.”
“Here it is.”
Oscar narrowed his eyes at the black stationery.
His name was indeed the addressee.
‘A letter, out of nowhere? What’s this about?’
He broke the seal.
Inside, only a single phrase was scrawled, as if hastily:
[Help me]
“...”
Front and back—nothing else.
Just that.
Help?
With what?
As he puzzled over it, Veronica asked.
“What does it say?”
“Just ‘help me.’”
He flipped it for the others to see.
She frowned.
“A cry for help? From her? The one with that pride?”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
“Very. If she needed a mage, the Black Tower has plenty.”
“Maybe she wanted alchemy advice?”
Fran’s guess wasn’t impossible, but Oscar shook his head.
“No... not if she was desperate enough to scribble like this.”
“Then what? Why ask us, of all people she’s not even on good terms with?”
“Only one way to find out.”
Killian, quiet until now, gave the obvious answer.
“Right. We’ll only know if we go. Change of plans: this afternoon we head to the Black Tower, then the Temple. Everyone okay with that?”
Once everyone agreed, Oscar glanced again at the letter.
Maybe it was just the dark stationery, but it filled him with unease.
[Translator - Night]
[Proofreader - Gun]