People were tense.
The mages who had survived swallowed nervously, debating whether or not to cast their spells.
A beast.
Judging by the sheer pressure it exuded, it was incredibly dangerous.
Perhaps they needed to strike preemptively, before it made the first move—
‘...Shit.’
But the moment the beast’s eyes landed on him, he had to abandon that thought.
That thing was not an opponent he could possibly defeat by simply rushing in.
Just by facing it, he could feel himself—despite being human—plummeting to the very bottom of ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) the food chain.
“It’s a Prime Beast. That’s a Prime Beast.”
Someone who recognized the creature muttered under their breath.
The word “Prime Beast” made the surrounding mages react even more strongly.
“A Prime Beast was real?!”
“That thing never once showed itself in the Kasarr Basin. Why would it appear now...?”
If it was truly a Prime Beast, it was something they absolutely shouldn’t provoke.
Its existence held tremendous academic value—but that didn’t mean it could be treated carelessly.
Those creatures possessed intelligence comparable to, or possibly surpassing, that of humans.
And more importantly, the mages gathered here were seekers of magic and mystery—not people who would skin a mystical creature just because it was rare.
Of course, there were always those who lost their minds to greed at the sight of a Prime Beast.
Gregoryum of the Old Mage Tower was the most infamous among them.
But even he couldn’t bring himself to display hostility toward it.
Because someone had just jumped down from the Prime Beast’s back.
“W-Wait! That’s a person!”
All eyes turned to the figure who had been riding the beast.
The man who had fallen from the air gently manipulated mana and landed softly on the ground.
Poised.
And light-footed.
Yekaterina’s eyes widened as the man descended beside her.
Derrick and Gregoryum were equally stunned.
“L-Ludger Cherish...!”
Those emotionless, blue eyes stared directly at them.
Ludger Cherish, who had gone into the forest to stop Velkat, had returned safely.
And he had ridden a Prime Beast.
The unbelievable sight made people blink in confusion.
What just happened? A person... rode a Prime Beast? Is that even possible?
As all attention locked onto him, Ludger opened his mouth and spoke to the beast.
“You may go now. Thank you for bringing me here.”
Amazingly, the Prime Beast nodded, as if it understood.
Gasps of admiration escaped the mouths of the mages.
So it was true—those rumors about Prime Beasts being able to understand and communicate with humans.
Whoooooosh!
A colossal surge of mana burst forth from the Prime Beast’s body.
Its presence was so powerful that even Arfa, Sempas, and Loina—who were just returning to the forward base—could feel it.
The Prime Beast began to slowly ascend into the sky.
Soon, it became engulfed in a blinding white light.
It was like gazing up at a star from up close—a dazzling radiance.
The mass of white light shot off in the direction of the forest, tracing a long path through the air.
White and gold mana arced and scattered in its wake.
Everyone stood mesmerized by the breathtaking display.
When the Prime Beast’s form finally disappeared beyond the treetops, the people turned their heads, as if in a trance, to stare at Ludger.
Now back on solid ground, Ludger casually tidied his tousled hair and dusted off his collar.
His expression and demeanor were calm as always.
And somehow, that composure made him seem even more unreal.
At that moment, Ludger spoke.
“There’s still a matter we need to address among ourselves. Gregoryum.”
“......”
Gregoryum bit his lip.
Jealousy burned fiercely in his eyes as he stared at Ludger.
Surviving that hellhole wasn’t enough—he had returned to the base riding a damn Prime Beast.
Gregoryum couldn’t think of a single way to draw more attention than that.
But the real issue was the situation they now faced.
“A matter to address? What could possibly be between us?”
Gregoryum acted as if he had no idea what Ludger was talking about.
“You ran away to save your own skin, and now you want to feign ignorance?”
“Ah. ‘A difference of opinion’ causing people to go their separate ways—these things happen.”
At that, Ludger’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
So that’s how you want to play this?
“If a one-sided retreat without any consultation counts as a ‘difference of opinion,’ then sure.”
“And what’s wrong with that? In the end, our judgment was correct. The cliff’s mana vein burst, but the basin didn’t collapse.”
In other words, the process didn’t matter as long as the result turned out fine.
That was the essence of Gregoryum’s argument.
“Maybe. But the Old Mage Tower abandoned its duty and focused solely on saving itself. That loss of trust won’t be easy to recover from.”
What the Old Mage Tower had done was tantamount to tightening a noose around their own neck.
If you operate purely based on profit, even close allies can be discarded the moment they’re no longer beneficial.
And the Old Mage Tower didn’t exist in isolation.
They had dealings and partnerships with various external organizations, companies, and noble families.
That’s how modern society worked.
And in those business-like relationships, the most crucial element was mutual trust.
Trust comes in two forms.
Either it’s built on human decency—or on mutual benefit.
But true trust doesn’t function on just one of those alone.
Even if the ratio differs, both elements must coexist.
And yet the Old Mage Tower had shattered even the bare minimum of human trust.
Sure, people would continue to do business with them—for now.
But in the future?
Their actions had proven that the moment things didn’t go their way, they would abandon you without hesitation.
Gregoryum flinched at Ludger’s words.
In truth, this had already been weighing on him.
The moment he decided to retreat, he knew it would leave a mark on the Old Mage Tower’s reputation.
And by extension, his own standing within it.
Still, when weighing reputation against survival—well, the choice was obvious.
Reputation only mattered if you were alive.
‘To begin with, I didn’t expect to survive this situation.’
Gregoryum had judged the Kasarr Basin to be beyond salvation.
He had acted on the belief that someone had to survive, at least.
That wasn’t necessarily a bad decision.
But whether it was the right one would ultimately be decided by the outcome.
And in that regard, his choice had turned out to be dead wrong.
The Kasarr Basin hadn’t collapsed.
Every choice comes with a price.
And Gregoryum would have to pay for the wrong one he had made.
“Don’t be ridiculous! What’s so wrong about making the obvious choice?!”
But Gregoryum couldn’t accept the consequences without resistance.
Call it shameless if you must—but he couldn’t help how bitter it felt.
In his view, the collapse of the Kasarr Basin had been inevitable.
And the magical energy he’d vaguely sensed from the cliffside? That wasn’t ordinary magic.
That was, at minimum, a 6th-Circle spell.
He’d seen such magic before—he would never mistake it.
“You think we were supposed to fight a 6th-Circle mage? That would’ve only worsened the damage! Isn’t minimizing the damage the better choice?!”
“You mean minimizing damage for your own people. And besides, you made the decision to retreat before confirming whether the enemy was a 6th-Circle mage.”
Ludger shot back with biting precision.
Gregoryum let out a strangled grunt and looked around.
He was at a disadvantage—he needed allies.
There were businessmen, mages, and nobles present who had ties to the Old Mage Tower.
But none of them stepped forward.
In fact, as soon as he made eye contact, they quickly turned their heads away and ignored him.
They weren’t fools—they knew stepping in now would only drag them into the mud with him.
“Y-You...!”
Ungrateful bastards!
Gregoryum burned with fury, but from the others’ perspective, keeping their heads down was only natural.
Some of them even felt a flicker of irritation.
You ran away while the rest of us fought—and now you want help?
Feeling that judgmental gaze, Gregoryum was struck with a wave of humiliation.
But even to the very end, he did not let go of his pride.
“...So what, now you're trying to hold me accountable for all of this? Weren’t those suspicious bastards the ones who started this? They’re all dead anyway!”
“I intend to investigate them further later. What matters now is pointing out the fact that, despite being able to minimize the casualties, your arbitrary actions increased the number of victims.”
“So you’re saying I’m responsible for all of this?”
At that, Ludger let out a small laugh.
“I never said you had to take responsibility. I just thought it would be good for everyone here to know the truth.”
“......”
“I don’t have the authority to punish you. As a professor at Seorn, if I go after the Old Mage Tower directly, that would spark a whole different kind of issue. But revealing the truth? That’s not a problem.”
Ludger glanced around as he spoke.
“And what the people here choose to do with that truth—how they view the Old Mage Tower and how they respond—is entirely up to them.”
To reinforce that point, Derrick Olson and Yekaterina stood proudly at Ludger’s side.
Gregoryum’s face turned bright red.
He could feel the cold, judging stares directed at him.
His instincts screamed that if he couldn’t resolve things here, it was over for him.
But no matter how he tried to turn the situation around, there was no way out.
Even if he tried to use his institutional authority to crush Ludger, the circumstances were hopeless.
This was the man who had returned riding a Prime Beast.
Ludger had become something untouchable—an entirely separate class of existence.
How was someone like Gregoryum supposed to oppose that?
“...Just you wait.”
Realizing that anything more he said would only make him look more pathetic, Gregoryum quietly stepped back.
Of course, that didn’t stop him from vowing internally not to go down without a fight.
Yekaterina watched the mages of the Old Mage Tower retreat like defeated soldiers—then suddenly let out a soft laugh.
And not just a chuckle—she held her stomach and began giggling uncontrollably.
Thankfully, only Derrick and Ludger were close enough to hear her. If anyone else had noticed, they would’ve been horrified.
Once she calmed herself, Yekaterina gave Ludger a gentle smile.
“Thank you. Thanks to you, one annoying problem is off my plate.”
“It was nothing.”
“More importantly, how on earth did you ride a Prime Beast? What exactly happened in that forest?”
Her eyes were filled with questions about the entire incident.
It wasn’t just her. Returning from treatment were Valentina and her brother Bataly, supporting her, along with Derrick Olson.
They, too, were silently watching Ludger, waiting for answers.
“...It’s going to be a long story.”
With a quiet sigh, Ludger turned and walked into the command tent.
The others around him blinked in confusion, and Yekaterina instructed them to return to their duties for now.
* * *
Several people gathered in the command tent.
Most of them were key figures who had originally assembled to coordinate the operation.
Of course, compared to earlier, the number had thinned significantly.
Some were dead, and others—like Gregoryum and the Old Mage Tower faction—didn’t even show their faces anymore.
Instead, people who weren’t originally supposed to be there, like Arfa, Sempas, and Loina, had joined the meeting.
Where should he begin?
Ludger considered this briefly before speaking.
“It would probably be best to start with what happened in the forest.”
No one objected.
There wasn’t a single person present who wasn’t curious about what had transpired in the forest.
The appearance of the Prime Beast alone was shocking—let alone the emergence of the Earth Elemental Lord.
“I believe you’re all already aware of who the culprit was.”
Velkat Benmark.
He had faked his own death in the mansion and turned out to be the mastermind behind everything.
Rimle had been working with him as well.
“Velkat destroyed the mana vein in the cliff. But just as he did, the overflowing mana in the forest began to stabilize.”
“How is that even possible?”
Riumea, one of the New Mage Tower’s representatives, asked the question.
She didn’t look well—likely due to Amar’s poison, which had affected her more than anyone else.
It wasn’t because she had been careless. In fact, she had taken the hit in place of her companions.
Thankfully, thanks to the antidote, her life was no longer in danger. Still, under normal circumstances, she should’ve been resting.
The fact that she had come here at all spoke to how important it was for her to understand what had happened.
“Once a mana vein bursts, suppressing it with ordinary mana is nearly impossible. It only takes a single 6th-Circle mage to destroy it, but stabilizing it again requires five times that amount of power. So if it was stabilized, who could have done it?”
“The beasts of the forest did it.”
Ludger gave a small nod in response to Riumea’s skeptical expression.
“The creatures who’ve lived in the Kasarr Basin for a long time. Their mana reserves are nothing to scoff at. And in that moment, they united to stabilize the vein.”
“That's... impossible...”
Though Riumea found it hard to believe, Loina stepped in to answer on his behalf.
“It’s entirely plausible. We just saw a Prime Beast with our own eyes, didn’t we? Given that, it wouldn’t be strange if the other creatures of the basin showed unusual behavior as well.”
“Indeed. Even the Prime Beast itself stepped in to protect the forest and fought Velkat. He tried to destroy the stabilized vein again, but at that moment, a new miracle occurred.”
“The Earth Elemental Lord...”
Someone murmured, and the name echoed faintly throughout the command tent.
No one present had missed the sight of that massive mountain of stone rising from the forest.
Everyone had seen it, which meant everyone also knew how the incident had ended.
And yet—even having seen it—they still felt like they were dreaming with their eyes open.
It was easier to believe that it had all been a mass hallucination brought on by the strange phenomena of the Kasarr Basin.
“That’s what happened.”
But Ludger, who had witnessed the event up close, gave a definitive answer.
And with that, the people present had no choice but to accept it as reality.
* * *
Once the meeting dispersed, Ludger left the command tent as well.
The battle was over. Now he just needed to calm his spinning thoughts and rest.
If there was one bit of good fortune amidst the chaos, it was that his rented tent had remained intact.
At least he wouldn’t have to go searching for a new place to unpack.
But just as he was heading toward it, someone quietly followed behind him.
“...Queen Yekaterina?”
When he turned to see who it was, he found Yekaterina walking alone, without her guards.
Why had she come?
But before he could dwell on the question, she bowed her head toward him with proper etiquette.
“Thank you for your help. Thanks to you, we survived.”
“...Please raise your head. It won’t look good if someone sees.”
“I don’t mind. This is the least I can do for someone who saved us.”
“I didn’t do anything worthy of such thanks.”
“Even just fighting with all your strength is something to be grateful for.”
This girl—she really was unshakable when it came to things like this.
‘Wait... Did she really come all this way just to express her gratitude?’
Just as Ludger thought that, Yekaterina suddenly asked a question like a surprise attack.
“By the way, Mister Machiavelli—why are you hiding your identity and working as a teacher?”