Chapter 384: The Story After (16) [Side Story, Part 16]

The capital of the Denian Kingdom buzzed with restless movement. People hurried through its streets with strange devices in their arms, scattering in every direction across the city. Some carried metal frames, others hauled coils of cable or bundles of crystal-lined components.

“Move quickly!” a sharp voice called from an elevated platform. “Everything must be in place before nightfall.”

Swordmaster Maximus stood above them, watching over the work. His presence alone carried weight, and when a famous Swordmaster shouted, people responded. The workers redoubled their efforts and began to move even faster.

Someone approached to stand at his side.

“How is it going?” the newcomer asked.

“You have come, Your Majesty Barbosa,” Maximus said as he dipped his head respectfully.

Barbosa, King of Denian, stroked his beard as he surveyed the capital from the platform.

“How far along are we?” he asked Maximus.

“We are nearing completion,” Maximus replied.

Across the capital, teams were installing devices in carefully mapped-out locations. Streetlamps went up one by one along the roads, and in the exact center of the city, a massive tower-like structure rose toward the sky, its frame still ringed with scaffolding.

A little above the ground, in midair, long lines of cable were strung out from the tower, stretching away in all directions as if to bind the entire capital together.

Maximus gave his report in a steady voice. “If all continues without serious issues, we should be finished before nightfall.”

“That is a relief,” Barbosa said.

“Your Majesty...,” Maximus added after a moment, his expression turning hesitant. “I do not mean to doubt, but...”

He glanced at the tower and the web of lines filling the sky.

“Is this truly possible?” he asked Barbosa.

The question implied that he feared the entire effort might be a waste of time. Barbosa gave a strained smile, unable to dismiss the doubt outright.

“I heard the explanation from the Tower Master,” he said. “But, to be honest, I still do not fully understand it. With my shallow knowledge, it seems... improbable at best.”

“Do you mistrust me, then?” A dry, echoing voice spoke from behind them. Barbosa and Maximus both flinched and spun around.

“T-Tower Master!” Maximus exclaimed.

“

Tsk, tsk.

Your minds have grown stiff already,” the Tower Master said, clucking his tongue. “The world is meant to change and move forward. If you are this set in your ways already, what will you do when you are truly old?”

He laughed with a rattling sound. Neither Barbosa nor Maximus could fairly be called young, but the Tower Master was an immortal lich. To him, they were hardly more than infants.

Barbosa hurried to defend himself.

“T-that is not it at all!” he said. “It is not that we do not trust you...”

“Enough. It is only natural to have doubts,” the lich said, waving one skeletal hand.

What they were attempting had no precedent. Suspicion was only reasonable.

“It seems preparations are mostly complete,” the Tower Master went on. “Then we should begin.”

“Yes, Tower Master. We are truly grateful,” Barbosa said, bowing deeply. “To think you would graciously choose our kingdom as the first to receive your new spell.”

Everything happening in the capital today—the devices, the tower, the cables—existed for one purpose: to trigger and sustain the Tower Master’s magic. A new spell, born from the genius of the Tower Master, would soon be tested in Denian’s capital. If it worked, the city’s value, and the kingdom’s prestige, would soar beyond measure.

The king’s face shone with hope, and the Tower Master chuckled.

“Do not thank me too much just yet,” he said. “As you said, I am not entirely sure whether it will work. If things go poorly, the magic might explode.”

“What...?” Barbosa asked him faintly.

He looked out at the city, taking in the spell that now encompassed the entire capital. The thought that it might explode ran through Barbosa’s mind, and his face went stiff.

“Are you sure about this?” Barbosa asked him, just to make sure.

“If something goes wrong, I will do my best to contain it,” the lich replied. “So do not worry too much.”

“E-excuse me?”

The Tower Master had said he would try to stop it, not that it absolutely would not blow up. Barbosa’s complexion turned pale.

Time slipped onward toward dusk. The sun sank, painting the sky in shades of ember and violet, then vanished beyond the horizon. Darkness poured over the land like ink. Faint streetlamps flickered on in the capital, but they were cheap, low-grade artifacts that produced little light. In the depths of that spreading darkness, the Tower Master snapped his fingers.

“Magitech, initiate,” he said.

An Eleventh-Class spell unfolded. The massive tower at the heart of the capital rumbled to life.

Wiiiiiiiing...

Myst flowed upward, drawn into the tower. Within it, that Myst threaded through intricate mechanisms, running across inscribed sigils and passing through conduits of crystal and metal until it coalesced into a single, stable result.

And then, at last, there was a soft click. A light bloomed at the top of the tower, shining outward like the beacon of a lighthouse. It glowed like an enormous bulb, clear and steady.

Moments later, the streetlamps installed across the capital began to light up one by one. Unlike the feeble lamps of before, these shone brilliantly. In a world drenched in night, the capital of Denian alone blazed like a jewel.

“O-ohhh!”

“Look at that!”

Cries of wonder rose from the gathered citizens.

The Tower Master let out a satisfied whistle.

“No problems,” he said. “Success.”

“Th-thank goodness...,” Barbosa murmured. He wiped the sweat from his brow and let out a long breath of relief.

Once he had calmed himself, he finally took a proper look at the city.

“By the gods...” he whispered. “You actually did it.”

The fact that the entire capital was bathed in light was not, by itself, an unimaginable feat. At the Tower Master’s level, casting a powerful spell to flood the city with radiance would have been nothing more than a flick of his fingers.

However, what Barbosa witnessed now felt like a miracle all the same. The tower before him was not an artifact but a machine, a single complex device made of countless interlocking components.

It took Myst as input, processed it through its inner systems, and output a fixed result—light.

“I listened to your explanation,” Barbosa said, shaking his head slowly. “But I still do not truly understand. What did you call this principle again?”

“The result of Myst is, by nature, fluid and unstable,” the Tower Master replied. “To use proper artifacts, you need someone who can directly wield Myst.”

That was why Myst had always belonged to a chosen few. It was a special power, reserved for those with the talent to control it. However, what the Tower Master had made now was different. This tower did not require fine control. It stored Myst and transformed it into a fixed, unchanging result.

“After Ketal told me about the idea of electricity, I wondered if something similar could be done here,” the lich said. “So I experimented. It seems it can.”

He had discovered a way to lock the output of Myst into a stable form. By combining that method with the knowledge he had gleaned from Ketal, he had created a power plant that could store Myst and convert it into light.

Myst was no longer a power that only a small number of chosen individuals could enjoy. It had become a benefit that could be shared by all citizens. The Tower Master laughed quietly, sounding very pleased.

“Right now we are only using it to produce light,” he said. “But depending on how we develop this, many things could change.”

They could generate heat and send warmth into people’s homes. They could run lines of light along the roads leading out of the capital, driving away darkness from every major route.

“Perhaps we could even build one of those automatic carriages he spoke of—a train, was it?” the lich mused. “This is becoming interesting. I should establish a dedicated school for it.”

His tone was bright with excitement. As a magic scholar, his hunger for new knowledge was blazing.

The generator hummed steadily as it worked, but over time the sound began to fade. Eventually, the light at the top of the tower flickered once and went out, and darkness swept in again. The people groaned in disappointment.

“Um, Tower Master?” Barbosa said, looking nervously at the Tower Master.

“We have simply run out of Myst,” the lich replied. “Maximus, if you charge it with Myst again, it will start back up. It does not have to be you. Any mage who can handle Myst can charge it. Simply have the royal mages refill it regularly.”

“Understood,” Maximus said. He stepped forward and poured Myst into the tower.

The generator rumbled to life once more, and the lights across the capital brightened again. The crowd erupted in cheers. Watching it all, the Tower Master began running calculations in his head.

“The conversion efficiency of Myst is abysmal,” he muttered. “If we want to use this properly, we need a way to store and release it more efficiently.”

“Oh, so this is what you meant,” a voice said behind him.

The Tower Master turned, intrigued.

“You truly came,” he said. “I sent word, but I half-expected you to ignore it.”

“If something interesting is happening, I cannot just stay away,” Ketal replied, grinning broadly and easily. “It is good to see you again, Tower Master. And you as well, Barbosa, Maximus.”

“Ketal!” Maximus exclaimed.

“You have come!” Barbosa said.

Both the king and the Swordmaster bowed quickly, showing far more formality than they ever had when they first met him. It was only natural, because Ketal now stood as something very close to a living god in the eyes of the continent.

The citizens who realized who had arrived followed suit, bowing their heads with reverent awe. Ketal acknowledged them with a warm smile. The simple gesture brought a shimmer of emotion to their faces.

He turned his gaze to the central tower.

“So that is the generator you made,” he said.

“Indeed,” the Tower Master replied. “I combined the knowledge I gained from you with my magic to build it. It is still unstable and consumes far too much Myst, but it works. With refinement, it should become quite useful.”

“Hm,” Ketal murmured.

He watched the tower with a strange expression. The technology of Earth was taking root inside a fantasy world. In a way, the world he had come from was now intruding on this one. For someone who loathed Earth, there was a part of him that should have found that uncomfortable.

Yet his heart did not feel heavy. If anything, the sight stirred a peculiar excitement.

It feels like steampunk,

he thought.

The fusion of magic and machinery—that, too, was one of the many forms that fantasy could take. He had no reason to reject it.

“What will you do from here?” he asked the Tower Master.

“First, I need to improve the generator’s efficiency,” the Tower Master said. “At its current state, we can only power very simple devices. After that, I will establish a formal school.”

He would train mages. Then he would send those mages out into the world, spreading this new discipline and pushing the continent’s technology forward. The Tower Master’s voice was almost light with anticipation.

“The beauty of Magitech is that it does not rely on raw talent for magic,” the Tower Master continued. “Technique and understanding of theory are far more important. That means we can find many new kinds of talent.”

“I am glad to see you so happy,” Ketal said.

“How could I not be? A new form of magic has been born,” the Tower Master replied. “The world will change. It will grow. We will move beyond even what existed before the Demon King and the Primarch invaded.”

Magitech carried that kind of potential.

The Tower Master turned back to Ketal.

“This is all thanks to you, Ketal,” he said.

Ketal had saved the world from destruction and gifted it with new knowledge and ideas. In doing so, he was changing the world in a way that would last far beyond his lifetime. The Tower Master spoke his gratitude without reservation.

“If anything, I am the one who is always grateful,” Ketal said, laughing softly and shaking his head. “Thanks to all of you, every day I spend here is enjoyable.”

They were exchanging warm words when a strange noise suddenly rose from the central device. A sharp hiss cut through the air, followed by a wheezing groan. A moment later, a muffled bang sounded, and thick smoke burst from the side of the generator.

“T-Tower Master!” Maximus shouted, startled. “Something is wrong!”

“It seems it overheated and blew a component,” the Tower Master said calmly. “We will have to repair it.”

“In that case, I should be going,” Ketal said. “I will leave the hard work to you.”

“Very well. Oh, come to think of it...,” the Tower Master began. Before Ketal could turn away, the lich asked with a teasing tone, “Are you enjoying it?”

Ketal understood what he meant and let out a small snort of laughter.

“I am,” he said. “I am enjoying it very much. I am... extremely happy.”

“Good, good,” the Tower Master said. “I hope you remain that way. Now go on. You are a very busy man these days, are you not?”

He finished with a light joke, and Ketal let out a quiet laugh. He pushed off the ground and left the capital behind in a single leap.

In the next moment, he was already racing across the continent. Wind roared past his ears, mountains and rivers blurring below as he crossed vast distances in mere heartbeats.

Soon, he reached the great forest that housed the elven sacred ground. He descended in front of a house nestled among the trees, a home that had been built just for two.

The door opened as he stepped up to it. Inside, brown hair fluttered as Arkemis turned toward him. Her golden eyes rounded with delight.

“You are back, Ketal?” she said.

“I am,” he answered. “Arkemis.”

Ketal smiled as he stepped into the house.