Chapter 233: The God of Hunger, Ferderica (4)

The great and mighty Mage Tower was no ordinary structure, but a monumental spire, its blueprints drawn centuries ago by the Tower Master himself, a feat so astonishing that many called it the

artificial World Tree

” For countless years, this place had been the meeting ground of all the continent’s mages, its prestige and power standing head and shoulders above any other institution. To rise through the Tower was to earn the world’s recognition.

High above, in a small chamber atop that legendary tower, a man was currently engaged in a bizarre ritual. His head was pressed to the floor, waist raised awkwardly high, balancing himself on the tips of his toes. His hands were locked behind his back, his posture almost comically humiliating. It looked for all the world like he was a child being punished for some mischief.

Anyone who knew the man’s true identity would have doubted their eyes at the sight.

That man was Elian, the first disciple of the Tower Master. He was the Tower Master’s prized pupil, the only mage truly qualified to inherit the sum of his master’s magical knowledge, and widely expected to become the next head of the great tower.

His power matched his reputation. Elian had achieved the rank of Hero, standing among the mightiest spellcasters alive, and his unique blend of personal ability and prestigious lineage ensured that no one on the continent, not even the Saintess of the Sun God, would treat him without utmost deference.

Yet, here he was, enduring a punishment more suited to a naughty child than a legendary mage.

The reason, however, became clear the moment one looked at the small, withered figure sitting astride Elian’s back.

“My dear dear disciple...,” The lich muttered. He perched on Elian’s waist, the Tower Master himself, spoke with languid displeasure, his raspy voice filling the room. “I am in a terrible mood, you know.”

“Why this time, Master?” Elian asked him, voice strained with effort.

“My carefully woven information manipulation has been ruined,” the Tower Master complained.

“Is it about that barbarian?” Elian replied, already guessing.

“So you know.”

“How could I not? You’ve spent all day regaling me with stories of your accomplishments, Master, even when I had no time to spare.” Elian’s words came out with difficulty, as though the posture alone was draining his energy.

The Tower Master mumbled as though remembering something important. “Ah, that’s right. It was a remarkable achievement, after all.”

The Tower Master had tried to conceal all information regarding Ketal across the entire continent, a feat difficult even for someone of his power. Yet, against the odds, he had succeeded. None of the continent’s great powers, not even its sharpest spies, had caught wind of Ketal’s existence.

However, now, the entire web had unraveled.

“I never imagined the quest of the Wandering Merchant would break everything so easily. All it took was a little party formation, and now everyone knows about Ketal,” the Tower Master said.

Indeed, by joining the Wandering Merchant’s quest and allying with the continent’s strongest individuals, Ketal’s name had started to spread like wildfire. It didn’t help that those

allies

included the Chief Inquisitor of the Sun God, the Mercenary King, and the Headmaster of the Void-Reflected Shadow School—a trio who stood at the very summit of their respective factions, making it almost impossible for the Tower Master to interfere. He could have tried, but the consequences would have been too dire. In the end, all he could do was watch as his painstaking work collapsed.

“I am in a very foul mood,” the Tower Master grumbled. “But if I take it out on anyone else, I’d just look petty, so here we are.”

“Aren’t you taking it out on me right now?” Elian replied wearily.

“But you’re not

anyone else

, Disciple. You’re family. It’s a student’s duty to help soothe his teacher’s bad mood, both body and soul.”

“That’s a relic of a two-hundred-year-old tradition. Most people think it’s best left in the past,” Elian pointed out.

“I’m much older than that, so I don’t care.”

Damn it

, Elian cursed inwardly.

Why am I the one suffering because of that blasted barbarian?

His legs were trembling, nearing the end of their endurance.

“Enough, enough. There’s no point tormenting you,” the Tower Master eventually sighed, climbing off Elian’s back with a theatrical huff.

Elian bit back a retort, barely suppressing the urge to complain.

If you know that, then why torment me at all?

Elian wondered, but he simply accepted it, as he always had.

This was his master, the Tower Master, who was admired by all, revered as the greatest mage alive. However, to the handful of people who truly knew him, the Tower Master was nothing more than a grumpy, capricious old man.

Elian straightened up gingerly, feeling his spine protest with a loud crack. “I’m not young anymore, Master. Please, can you stop with these barbaric punishments? My back is going to give out at this rate.”

“You used an elixir to regain your youth, and now you’re pretending to be an old man? You should just become a lich like me. No need to eat, sleep, or even relieve yourself. You can devote every waking moment to magic. It’s the best.”

“I refuse,” Elian said flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument. The Tower Master, apparently not serious about his suggestion, dropped the topic.

“

Hmph,

” the Tower Master muttered, sounding none the happier for having vented his frustration. “I suppose I’ll have to start thinking of a new plan. My head is starting to ache.”

Elian hesitated for a moment, then decided to ask the question that had been nagging at him for some time. “Master, may I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

Elian’s expression was one of genuine confusion. “Why are you so fixated on that barbarian?”

Even after decades as the Tower Master’s disciple, Elian had never seen his master show this much interest in anyone. He understood that Ketal was both powerful and unique, but even so, this was not ordinary.

“I know the barbarian is strong, extraordinary, even. But is there really a need for such caution?” Elian continued.

More and more, entities from the Demon Realms had started appearing in the outside world. Ketal wasn’t the only special one. Of course, he was still the only Demon Realml being capable of conversation, and his power was formidable enough that he deserved respect and careful handling.

However, the Tower Master’s actions went beyond simple caution. He seemed determined to keep Ketal’s very existence a secret from the world, and that, to Elian, made no sense.

“Is there any real need to treat the barbarian as so exceptional, just because he is from the Demon Realm?”

“There is,” the Tower Master said quietly. “Because Ketal is special.”

After discovering Ketal, the Tower Master had scoured every possible source for information about the Demon Realm. What he found was scant and jealously guarded, so much so that even he had trouble unearthing the truth. However, eventually, he pieced together a few facts.

The beings from the Demon Realms were called the Oldest Ones, and their origin was unlike anything else in the world. In the end, the Tower Master arrived at a single conclusion.

“Ketal is a miracle,” he said simply. “An existence that should not be possible.”

“A miracle...?” Elian repeated, stunned.

The Tower Master never used that word lightly. To a mage, to speak of miracles was to acknowledge one’s limits—something he had always refused to do. For him to call Ketal a miracle was to admit that what he had witnessed lay beyond reason, beyond magic, and beyond anything he had ever believed possible.

“There’s no other comparison. Just accept it,” the Tower Master said with a dismissive wave.

Elian nodded, though it didn’t really answer his question. “But then, wouldn’t it be better to reveal Ketal’s deeds to the world, so he could earn fame and recognition? So far, everything he’s done has been helpful to us, stopping the demonic invasion, helping the elves, dealing with threats from the Demon Realms...”

On the surface, it seemed more logical to publicize Ketal’s identity and let him bask in glory. The Tower Master, however, dismissed the idea.

“You really don’t understand why I hide his identity, do you?”

“Isn’t it to protect him from groups like the Empire? But if his fame spreads, wouldn’t even they hesitate to make a move against him?”

“No. It’s the opposite. I’m not protecting Ketal from the world. I’m protecting the world from Ketal.”

Elian’s eyes went wide with shock.

The Tower Master elaborated. “You know of Ignisia, right?”

“Of course. The Elder Dragon who designed the Tower.”

“She contacted me recently. Apparently, she fought Ketal—and lost.”

“What?” Elian gasped. “Ignisia lost... to Ketal?”

“If you think about it simply, yes. But based on her description, Ketal’s abilities are too strange. There’s no bottom to him. He breaks the rules. I thought he’d be limited by his inability to use Myst, but I was wrong. I’m ashamed to even call myself Tower Master.”

“Unbelievable,” Elian murmured.

However, the real reason for hiding Ketal’s identity still wasn’t clear. Sensing Elian’s continued doubt, the Tower Master continued.

“I hide him for the world’s sake. Because he acts only out of interest.”

“Interest?” Elian echoed.

“He finds this world fascinating,” the Tower Master explained. “To him, the continent is nothing but a giant toy box—endlessly entertaining, a playground filled with delights.”

“Twisted...” Elian muttered.

“Perhaps it’s because he’s a being from the Demon Realm, or perhaps it’s just him. But he’s broken, through and through. The only reason he’s ever acted benevolently is because the circumstances made it convenient. He never truly acted out of kindness.”

For instance, when Ketal went to aid Kalosia’s holy land, it was less out of loyalty to his friends and more because he was curious. He wanted to see a divine sanctuary. It was the same with every incident: defeating demons in the Denian Kingdom, exterminating the apes from the Deep Sea, and protecting the World Tree. In every case, Ketal’s amusement and curiosity came first.

Had things played out differently, he might just as easily have sided with the demons. The Tower Master couldn’t be sure, but that was his judgement.

“He’s not evil, exactly. He’ll help those close to him and avoid harming them. But at his core, he’s still twisted,” the Tower Master finished. He turned to Elian with a serious question. “Now, Disciple, let me ask you: what do you think will happen if Ketal’s existence becomes public knowledge? If the great factions of the continent learn of him?”

“They’d try to recruit him to their side,” Elian answered. “Or, if they saw him as a threat, they’d try to control him.”

“Exactly. From Ketal’s perspective, it would be as if his toys had turned against him. And what do you think he’d do then?”

“Are you saying he’d fight them all?”

“He values only what amuses him. He’s not bound by rules or honor. If he’s obstructed, he’ll destroy anything in his way—be it kingdoms, gods, or dragons.”

Only then did Elian truly understand. If someone even the Elder Dragon couldn’t control, someone whose depths not even the Tower Master could fathom, turned against the continent, he could bring ruin to all.

“That’s... dangerous,” Elian breathed.

“Especially now, when the balance of the world is fraying. He’s not bound by good or evil. My plan was to slowly approach him, to let him grow attached to the continent so he’d see it as his home. But now, thanks to that damned Wandering Merchant, everything’s in shambles.”

The Tower Master cursed the Wandering Merchant for ruining his designs.

Elian listened, a faint glimmer in his eyes. “I see... He truly is that kind of being.”

“Are you interested as a mage? You’ll meet him eventually. Just be cautious when you do.”

“I will, Master,” Elian replied, already formulating plans in his mind.

The Tower Master noticed, but said nothing. If he understood Ketal correctly, he’d probably enjoy Elian’s schemes.

However, there were more pressing matters elsewhere. The Tower Master’s gaze stretched far, keeping watch on distant events unfolding in the Denian Kingdom.

“Those damned celestial beings are never any help,” he grumbled.

“I haven’t heard a thing,” Elian said, instantly feigning ignorance.

The Tower Master just mumbled to himself, “I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I need to prepare for every possibility. I don’t know why they’re calling for him, but it can’t be for anything good. They’re not summoning him for tea. Better that things fall apart quietly, without dragging others in.”

***

Meanwhile, outside the Akasha family’s estate, Riltara and her followers continued to hold their position at the gates. They hadn’t washed, and their ragged appearance and sharp odor had only gotten worse, but none of them seemed to care. Their disheveled state was their badge of honor.

Suddenly, the doors swung open. Ketal appeared, and the moment she saw him, Riltara’s hand flew to her sword. However before she could act, Ketal raised a hand in greeting.

“I have a question for you,” Ketal said.

“What is it?” Riltara replied cautiously.

“You called me the Sinner of Revelation. Tell me, am I truly a sinner?”

“You are,” Riltara answered with a steady nod. “Ferderica named you themselves. Our orders are to capture the barbarian Ketal and bring you to their domain. My mission is to escort you to the holy land.”

A god had given a direct revelation. Riltara had no choice but to obey.

“The only thing left for you, Sinner of Revelation, is to come with us,” she declared.

“I see,” Ketal murmured, as though it all made sense now. “So, this Ferderica is the one trying to interfere with me?”

“Interfere? What do you mean?” Riltara bristled at what she heard as an insult.

Before she could protest further, Ketal gave a vigorous nod.

“Then I’ll answer the summons. Good! Your name is Riltara, yes?”

“Y-yes?”

“I’ll go with you to Ferderica’s holy land. I’ll be in your care for a while!” Ketal announced cheerfully.

Riltara stared at him in disbelief, eyes wide at his sudden declaration. Ketal just grinned, beaming with unshakable confidence.