E-34 Sector was currently engulfed in all-out fighting.
Between the steel structures, the drawn-out exchange of blows resembled nothing less than endless trench warfare—a war of attrition that showed no signs of stopping.
Had one side possessed greater strength, the battle might have ended in one-sided victory. But the two factions were locked in perfect balance, as if set on a scale.
Of course, that balance had not come about by chance.
It was an artificial, finely tuned balance, created through outside intervention.
The black mages and the rising faction clashed.
And pulling strings from behind, selling their goods into the carnage, was none other than the New Mage Tower, the true ruling body of Isla Machia.
“Hm. Not a bad situation.”
Pomput, a 5th-Circle mage of the New Mage Tower, flipped through the day’s ledger of artifacts sold to the black mages.
In this continuous war of attrition, the black mages poured their vast fortunes into buying weapons and artifacts from the New Mage Tower.
The sums they had hoarded over time were astronomical. Even now, long after the fighting began, they were still spending heavily.
‘Well, if their entire faction might vanish, what use is money?’
And the black mages weren’t acting without thought.
Yes, this new rising faction was dangerous, but if they were crushed, all their accumulated knowledge and resources would become the black mages’ prize.
‘They’ve likely gathered the research of many black mage schools already wiped out. Drive them out, and the returns will far exceed the money they’ve spent so far.’
Pomput did not mock them for their scheming.
If they didn’t think that way, they could never justify burning through such massive sums.
‘Well, all we have to do is keep raking in the money.’
Pomput tapped the ledger with a finger.
It didn’t matter how many black mages died in this fight.
It didn’t matter how many residents of the First Floor were slaughtered in the crossfire.
Most of them were worthless anyway—paupers crammed into slums, beggars, criminals.
There were innocent victims, of course, but the First Floor was largely a lawless zone, and its people were hardly virtuous.
If they were swept away and killed, Pomput considered it a cleansing of Isla Machia—something to be welcomed.
‘Sure, it’s disgusting seeing black mages drag residents off to use as meat shields or sacrifices, but... that much can be overlooked.’
At first it was unpleasant, but once he saw the rows of zeroes on the ledger, that disgust vanished.
As the one handling finances and oversight, Pomput was not working alone in E-34.
Several War Mages were already stationed nearby, observing the battle constantly.
If one side began to falter, the War Mages would deliberately intervene, keeping the conflict alive.
‘We should be thankful this rising faction is so strong.’
If the black mages had been too powerful, the New Mage Tower would have had no excuse to restrain them.
The occasional tactic of pulling back War Mages mid-battle to weaken the black mages’ front could only work for so long.
The reason the balance held was that the black mage coalition was always at a disadvantage.
‘Idiots. Even when faced with a common enemy, they only try to pass the burden to someone else, refusing to sacrifice themselves. They can’t restrain their greed—how could they ever fight properly?’
Pooling money was one thing. Sending their people to die was another.
The death of a single 3rd-Circle black mage was a heavy loss to any school.
So they held back, and in doing so, they were pushed by the experimental troops who fought without regard for their lives.
In those moments, the War Mages would intervene just enough to push back the experiments, keeping the stalemate alive.
‘The only problem is, the resistance of this rising faction keeps getting fiercer. I’ll have to request reinforcements.’
It wasn’t that elite War Mages could ever be overwhelmed by mere experiments.
But Pomput believed caution never hurt.
Lately the black mages, desperate to conserve manpower, had been enslaving nearby residents with curses or brainwashing, forcing them to serve as meat shields.
‘Curses, eh. That reminds me, one of the schools trapped in E-34 has been sending constant requests for help.’
The Ancient Curse School, wasn’t it?
Their name sounded grim, but in truth, they were gentler than most black mage schools.
They studied ancient curses, nothing more—not human experimentation, not vile deeds.
Because of the stigma, they were lumped with black mages, but their conduct resembled that of a normal mage school.
They even had tradition behind them. But in this war, they were being crushed, on the verge of annihilation.
Curses required elaborate rituals, mana, mediums, rare ingredients.
And ancient curses even more so. Too impractical to use effectively in battle.
To black mages desperate for frontline strength, saving such people was a luxury they didn’t have—nor did they desire to.
With fewer rivals, the spoils would be greater.
‘No need to help them. They’re worthless.’
Pomput dismissed the Curse School without # Nоvеlight # a second thought.
Then, his portable artifact buzzed with a communication from the field.
“Yes, what is it?”
[It’s bad!]
Pomput’s brow furrowed at the sudden urgency.
“What happened?”
[An unknown third party has entered the battle!]
“And why does that—!”
[He’s too strong! He’s wiping out everything alone!]
“What?”
Pomput snapped, spitting into the artifact as his eyebrows shot up.
“What the hell are you doing?! Did you forget this is business?! Stop him!”
[We’re trying our best! But he’s too powerful!]
“What?”
The sounds beyond the artifact left no room for doubt. Thunderous explosions, desperate shouting of War Mages.
Pomput knew instantly this wasn’t some minor mishap.
It was a disaster that could collapse their entire operation here.
“St-stop him!” Pomput screamed into the artifact.
“Hold him back as much as possible! I’m coming too!”
No reply came—too busy fighting, no doubt.
Pomput snatched up his staff and rushed outside.
He would see for himself what fool dared disrupt the New Mage Tower’s business.
* * *
KRA-BOOM!
Lightning fell from a clear sky.
Violet bolts split into ten, roots of a colossal tree striking downward, scouring the earth.
Steel structures sagged and melted beneath the storm.
Not merely destroyed—the metal was fused, tunneling open like molten pathways.
Cold sweat ran down the War Mage’s back.
“Wh-what in the world is that monster?”
It was disaster, arriving without warning.
At first, it had been the black mages against the rising faction.
The black mages hurled meat shields and sacrifices, trying to thin the numbers of experimental troops.
For a time, it seemed they were winning. But the experiments adapted, pushing back against the meat shields with overwhelming force.
Even the black mages’ magic could not deal them a decisive blow.
As the experiments pressed harder, the War Mages stepped in, cutting them down just enough to stabilize the situation.
Until—
From the sky, something black appeared.
Like a droplet of ink squeezed from condensed night.
That black speck fell into the center of the battlefield.
Too late, people realized it wasn’t ink. It was a man, cloaked in shadow.
An intruder, sudden and inexplicable.
They wondered, but no one pulled back.
After all, he was just one.
Charging alone into the heart of battle was suicide. Whoever he was, he had made a fatal mistake.
But the moment the shadowed man spread his spell, that assumption shattered.
A War Mage felt the wrongness immediately.
“Everyone, scatter!”
KWOOM!
A massive shockwave erupted.
The shadowed man unleashed his mana and aura in every direction, sweeping the entire space at once.
The instant the War Mage realized it was raw mana release, he felt something he had never known, even through countless battles—overwhelming.
Those farther back, watching from a distance, fared better.
But those too close to the shadow crow were crushed.
Experimental humans with pallid skin suffered heavy losses, their broken limbs strewn like snapped dolls against walls and floor.
Black mages, enraged by the collateral damage, turned their fury on him.
It was satisfying to see the experiments obliterated, but they too had lost.
“How dare you, here of all places!”
“Whoever sent you—you should’ve thought twice!”
They assumed his strength spent after such a display.
That assumption lasted only moments.
Another formation unfolded.
Blue mist rose around him—mana fog.
The onlookers stiffened.
Mana fog. A feat only possible for mages of 6th-Circle, Lexuror level.
“Six... a 6th-Circle Archmage...”
Then came the fire.
Scarlet flames erupted, devouring everything in sight.
The black mage who whispered those words was reduced to ash in an instant.
“D-damned lunatic!”
The others scrambled, erecting every barrier, pouring out every artifact.
“Block it!”
“Throw in everything you’ve got!”
More than a hundred layers of wards rose, swallowed by the tide of fire.
The experiments fled outright.
Like beasts sensing a predator, the instant they saw Ludger’s arrival, they bolted.
Because of that, most escaped his fire magic unscathed.
Only a few too slow were swept away and incinerated.
Barriers shattered, black mages blasted back.
Ludger watched silently, then lifted his head.
CRACK!
Metallic cubes assembled into a massive lightning rod.
The moment it struck ground—
Lightning fell.
“Who the hell are you to barge in here?!”
The War Mages moved to surround him.
Their numbers, with a 5th-Circle among them, gave them confidence.
“Don’t falter! He’s drained from that spell! Hit him now!”
“No need to ask his name—kill him!”
They raised their magic as one—
And Ludger narrowed the blue eyes behind his crow mask.
BZZZT.
Purple lightning coiled around him, uncoiling like a serpent.
“Wait—”
Another 6th-Circle spell, so soon?!
They reeled in horror, but it was already too late.
The violet lightning storm consumed everything.