Somewhere in the capital of the Nameless Empire...
A crimson-haired nobleman walked down a pale gray corridor, devoid of light or signs of life. His hair seemed touched by flame, and his scarlet eyes, laced with cold dignity, shone vividly in the darkness. He was a striking man whose arrogance suited him perfectly—Red A. Scarlet, the imperial Red Archmage.
Red's straight posture and the confident spread of his shoulders formed an exquisite harmony. Though he strolled calmly down the corridor, each step carried a destructive weight, as if he were trampling something unseen beneath him.
He moved through the empire's noblest halls until he reached a door and entered. The room beyond was strange. Though spacious, light touched only the center. That narrow beam clung to the floor like a spotlight on a stage. At the heart of the glow sat a single red chair, surrounded by six tall mirrors arranged in a wide circle. Each mirror shimmered faintly in its own hue: orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple respectively.
When Red settled into the chair, all the mirrors flickered to life except the purple one, reflecting illusory silhouettes. He confirmed their presence with a calm gaze and said, "Alderson has been taken out."
No one replied, but Red knew they were listening. He continued in his usual detached tone, "It happened at the academy, in the heart of the capital. He was immature in many ways, but he was an Archmage that I recommended. This proves things are worse than we thought."
A languid voice drifted from the green mirror. "There's been peace for a long time. It's a dull world for the Dark Church. They thrive on chaos and destruction, so it's no surprise they've begun to stir."
Red immediately frowned at the indifferent tone. "You know that, and you're still holed up in your little cave? Damn hermit."
"You have my pity, Red. Clearly, you've never known the pleasures of solitude. A mage's greatest virtue is composure, and a small space brings calm to the mind."
"Enough nonsense," Red said. "The empire is facing an unprecedented, man-made crisis. Regardless of past pacts, it's a waste of resources to have two Archmages tied to that tiny plot of land."
At these words, the Green Archmage, Assad, responded with a sharper edge. "You've never been polite, but that's crossing the line. Don't tell me you're seriously suggesting we release Lise Ladygoth?"
"In the past, the Platinum King even hand-picked convicts to form his White Knights," Red replied.
"That was during wartime," Assad snapped.
"It was. Still, do you really believe things are better now than they were back then?"
Assad went silent.
Red pressed, "There may not be war, but the empire isn't any stronger than it was. So why call my suggestion nonsense?"
A chill settled over the conversation.
Red stared into the green mirror until a soft chuckle from the orange mirror cut through the tension.
"You two always get along so well," said the man on the other side, his tone light, as if trying to mediate. "Anyway, is now really the time for a quarrel?"
"Silence."
"Shut up, Orange."
The Orange Archmage fell quiet, though the mood had lightened slightly.
Red said, "Fine. You're the one handling that witch, so I'll let it go for now. Even so, we can't leave a vacancy in the Seven Colors for long. Not with the situation as it is."
"You want to appoint a successor already?" Assad asked.
"Is there anything wrong with that?" Red countered. "There are several strong candidates. The south is a war zone, and I've been hearing the names of some prominent Warmages. Lately, names like The Bomber and Sand Mage have been gaining traction."
"Sand Mage? What, someone who uses sand magic?" Assad questioned.
"Apparently. Rumor has it they developed their own unique spells."
At that moment, a voice echoed from the previously silent blue mirror. "Alderson made his name as a Warmage in the south. I don't think it's a bad idea, but I'd like to nominate someone from the Magic Tower."
Red turned toward the blue mirror. "Amelia, I've heard a prodigy emerged from the Tower of Fish. I believe that's your apprentice—the one who mastered all seven-color magic at just seventeen."
"At seventeen? If that's true, that's remarkable," Assad remarked, his tone measured.
A flicker of pride crept into the voice from the blue mirror. "Coralis' talent is the strongest in recorded history. It's not just exceptional for Coralis' age. It goes beyond that. If Coralis becomes an Archmage, I will treat Coralis as a peer, not an apprentice."
The Blue Archmage, Amelia, spoke as though the successor had already been chosen. Her attitude slightly surprised the other Archmages. After all, Amelia rarely let personal opinions influence her judgment.
Still, we'll have to see for ourselves. If Amelia is this certain, then Coralis must be a mage of exceptional talent, they thought.
Red remained unfazed. "Yes. In my not-so-short life, I've seen and heard of countless so-called greatest talents of all time . Most turned out to be frogs who couldn't even reach a demon king's heels."
"Coralis is—"
"Different?" Red finished for her. "If that's true, there's no need to insist. We'll see with our own eyes. One way or another, it'll be proven."
Amelia said nothing. She couldn't argue.
Red went on, "Either way, I'm even considering someone from the Abanaham Witch Society for the next Purple Archmage. They're a group of eccentrics, but they're worth keeping an eye on."
"You're choosing based solely on magical ability?" Assad asked.
"That's the plan this time. I'll need a glimpse of their personality, of course. But age, background, and credentials won't matter much," Red replied.
Assad hummed in response.
That was bound to draw backlash. The Seven-Colored Archmages were not only the empire's finest mages; they also served as its public face and key agents. Except for the reclusive Assad, each led a major organization. Even so, no one voiced their objection. Red's word carried weight. He was the head of the Seven-Colored Archmages.
"You said you would fill the vacancy. How long will it take?"
"This month, if things move quickly. By year's end, at the latest," Red said.
"This... Isn't that a bit soon?"
"You think so?" Red gave a faint chuckle before his expression hardened. "A demon king nearly descended on the capital. A new religion is gaining momentum in the east. The gangs in the west have struck a deal with the church. The south doesn't even need to be mentioned. And while the north seems quiet, that only makes it ripe for conspiracy."
"In other words, there's nowhere safe in the empire anymore?" Assad asked.
Red affirmed it silently.
Most of the Archmages considered this a rushed decision, but Assad agreed completely. The crisis was not limited to the capital.
"A priest infiltrated the Badniker family," he revealed.
Gasps echoed through the room.
Even Red blinked slowly, disbelief clouding his eyes. "What?"
"A demon king almost descended at the training camp," Assad replied flatly.
Each Archmage reacted differently.
"The Badnikers' training camp? That was just recently, wasn't it?"
"The situation is escalating quickly."
"If it's Badniker territory, then in terms of church threats, it should be safe—no, actually safer than the capital."
Red held his chin and said, "It is surprising. I never expected something like this in the Iron-Blooded Lord's territory."
The Iron-Blooded Lord was one of the few figures this arrogant Archmage acknowledged.
"Which demon king did the priest serve?" Red asked.
"Black Swamp," Assad answered.
"It was definitely the Blood Moon who nearly descended at the academy. I thought Black Swamp' and Blood Moon's followers didn't get along. The timing's suspicious," Red remarked.
"Are you saying they're working together?"
"Just a possibility. But we should take it seriously..." Red tapped his fingers on the armrest. The rising tension eased slightly. "It's an open secret that most factions within the church don't cooperate. Each one has its own doctrine. Coordination between them is rare."
"As expected—"
"But," Red cut off the Blue Archmage, "it isn't hard to time separate actions to occur simultaneously. They don't have to be directly linked—only scheduled to line up. As far as I know, there's only one person in the church capable of coordinating that kind of timing."
"The Dark Pope," Assad muttered warily. He had been thinking of that name ever since Juan's identity came to light. "You mean the Dark Pope has finally started to move?"
Red didn't bother hiding his irritation. "I don't know. For the past few centuries, plenty of imperial subjects have claimed to have seen the Dark Pope. Most of those were dream encounters. The real problem is that none of the eyewitness accounts matched.
"Some said he looked like a sinister man. Others described an old man covered in wrinkles. One even swore it was a young girl who still had baby fat. That leaves us with two possibilities regarding the Dark Pope's identity."
Red spread his fingers and folded them one at a time. "First, the Dark Pope can change appearance. Personally, I'd prefer that."
He shook his head. "But the maggot-ridden church types always end up choosing the worst possible scenario over the lesser evil."
"And what's the worst?"
"The possibility that there's more than one Dark Pope."
A cold silence settled over the room.
Then, for the first time, a voice came from the yellow mirror. "You mean there are multiple Dark Popes, not just Young Dark Popes?"
"It is a possibility."
" Hmm . Still, that's a bit..." The voice was rough, but Red didn't bother calling out lack of manners.
"Let's just keep this in mind for now," Red said. "In addition, Assad, I need the details about what happened at the Badnikers. I know the family you serve is private, but don't start pulling that internal affairs crap in front of us."
Assad answered awkwardly, "Long story short, the old fools in the family got greedy and ended up with nothing."
"What does that mean?"
"Please understand that the more I say, the more I shame my family. In any case, the one who foiled the church's plan and killed the priest was someone no one expected. It was Delac's youngest child, Luan—"
"Luan Badniker," Red cut in.
He had a habit of interrupting, but Assad still went quiet, then asked, "Do you know him?"
"Sure. Soon, everyone in the empire will know that boy's name."
"Huh?"
The Orange Archmage explained to the puzzled Assad, "I heard he's the hero disciple who played the biggest role in this Blood Moon disaster. Along with Alderson, he was key to stopping the demon king's descent."
"I received a report from the Special Forces. If all is true, he has acted beyond his years. He's taken on the role of actual leader of the hero disciples. It's surprising such a talent didn't stand out earlier. Did the Badnikers hide him on purpose?" Red questioned.
"Something like that," Assad said flatly.
Red stroked his chin before murmuring, "A priest first, now a demon king. It's strange how deeply he's tied to these successive church incidents."
Assad's expression changed. He caught the doubt in Red's voice.
"Hey, Red. Don't tell me you're thinking something strange." His voice grew colder than when he spoke of Lise.
Red showed no sign of flinching.
"He's a Badniker," Assad pressed.
"I know. But there's an interesting saying in the Sun Church: only baptized members can claim true innocence. So, let me ask you. Has Luan Badniker been baptized?" Red asked.
"Of course not."
"Then my answer stays the same. I always assume the worst. That's why I sit where I do."
"But—"
"It's too late, Assad." Red's tone sharpened. "Even if I do nothing, the truth will come out soon. It's not just the Hero Society and the Sun Church; powerful regional lords will send agents to gather information. The imperial family can't ignore it either. The academy is about to get noisy."
Red paused. "On a related note, this crisis was averted only because of Alderson's efforts, the hero disciples' cooperation, the Special Forces, the students, and even the imperial family. The demon king failed to descend, and the Blood Moon's followers have taken a severe blow. Thus, I declare, as the Red Archmage of the empire—"
"What? Don't tell me—"
Unfazed by Assad's alarmed tone, Red finished calmly, "I hereby summon the Middle Names."