"…You're joking," Isolde said at last.
"I rarely joke about magic." Ezekiel opened the portfolio, revealing pages filled with dense notation. "One hundred original spellforms. The descriptions are included, along with their practical applications."
Isolde neither took it nor glanced at it. She seemed more hesitant than Elias had ever seen her. As an Archmage with a Mind affinity, she could usually discern at a glance whether someone was telling the truth, hiding something, or twisting facts. Yet whatever ability she relied on did not seem to be working.
After a tense moment, she took the ledger from Ezekiel’s hands and began to flip through it. To a casual observer, it might have seemed as though she were merely skimming, but Elias knew better. He had seen the speed with which Isolde usually devoured books. No—this was no cursory glance. She was conducting an in-depth analysis of every single detail.
Several minutes passed in silence before the president reached the final page. Her expression shifted more times in that span than Elias usually saw in a year—doubt gave way to shock, shock to awe, and awe to a kind of numb disbelief.
When she finished, she set the ledger down gently on the desk and closed her eyes, a gesture Elias recognized as her posture for the deepest concentration. Moments later, her eyes opened again, clear and sharp.
“There has to be a reason…” she said, her gray gaze fixed on their young guest. “A reason you bring me exactly one hundred spellforms, rather than releasing them one by one.”
Elias was taken aback. In the awe and disbelief over the sheer number of spells, he had completely overlooked the bigger picture. But now that Isolde had voiced it, the truth was obvious: this had to be deliberate. How else could there be exactly one hundred spells? Surely, Ezekiel’s ambitions went beyond simply adding them to the repertoire of existing wares.
Ezekiel smiled, a genuine expression that suggested he was pleased by his counterpart’s quick wit. “I do have some thoughts about how to use these spells...”
Isolde’s focus sharpened, and Elias, who wasn’t even technically part of the conversation, found himself leaning forward, as if Ezekiel were about to share a secret meant for him alone.
“I plan to release them as a collection,” he explained.
Isolde’s gaze flicked to the ledger, her eyes narrowing. “They don’t seem to be a suitable set. The spells differ vastly: in application, complexity, and even the affinities required. They have little in common. From what I could see, the only similarity is that they all require only a minute amount of mana to be—”
Her voice cut off, as if she had suddenly grasped something.
She opened the ledger again, her attention fixed on the upper right corner of each page, where a number was printed. As she flipped through, Elias noticed the numbers cycled from one to five, sometimes with multiple spells sharing the same number.
Isolde paused, meeting Ezekiel’s gaze. “This is a ladder?”
Ezekiel, who had been watching her examine his work with almost childlike anticipation, nodded with a smile. “Yes. This is a collection of spells for each affinity, arranged in ascending difficulty. Every one of them is suited for Apprentices, each step adding a layer of complexity.”
Now that he had begun, the words flowed freely, as if he had been waiting for this moment to proudly unveil his work.
“…The advancement from one to the next is challenging, but not so much as to discourage. Finally, after reaching the last spell in the chain, the practitioner will be capable of attempting True Mage spells.”
Isolde’s gaze grew complicated as she looked down at the ledger. “This is a training manual designed to reach the True Mage level without a formal education.”
“It is,” Ezekiel confirmed without hesitation, making no effort to hide anything.
Isolde’s brows furrowed.
Elias felt the same unease. As members of the Magic Association, their sworn purpose was the preservation, dissemination, and advancement of the field of Magic. Their work was the reason no spell had been lost in centuries, no enchantment forgotten, no ritual left to fade into obscurity.
That was their pride.
Yet few knew the Association always walked a knife’s edge. Their ideals were pure, but they still had to operate within the framework of the real world, which often demanded compromise. Rulers did not like change. It was as certain as the ground beneath their feet, the air they breathed, the sun and moon above.
Small, gradual changes could be tolerated. Drastic upheavals, however, were almost always met with resistance.
The question now was: would these spells spark such an upheaval? Certainly. But would it be more than the Association could endure? His gaze drifted to the President. Ultimately, that was for her to decide.
“What do you intend to call your collection?” she asked after a moment’s thought.
“Maximilian Von Hohenheim’s One Hundred Free Spells.”
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“Free?” Isolde immediately seized on the word.
The young Lord nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That is the other reason I want them sold as a collection. Each spell should be priced as low as possible, only enough to cover the Association’s costs.”
“…That means you would gain nothing from this,” Isolde said. “One hundred original spells, and you wouldn’t even see a copper.”
Ezekiel shrugged. “Recognition is its own currency.”
Isolde frowned. “You won’t even get that, not if you name them after your mentor. Who, in fact,” she added, cutting him off before he could speak, “has nothing to do with these spells.”
Ezekiel fell silent, watching her closely.
“I knew Maximilian better than most, you brat. I know how brilliant he was,” she said, tapping the ledger, “and how brilliant he wasn’t. This feat is beyond him, beyond anyone I have ever met. I don’t know how you came by these spells, but I know they are not from Maximilian.”
Ezekiel opened his mouth, but Isolde cut him off again.
“I don’t want to hear lies or excuses, so I won’t even ask. It doesn’t matter all that much where the spells come from. What I do want to know is what you gain from this, if not fame or gold.”
The young man tilted his head, as if the question had never occurred to him. After a moment’s thought, he spoke.
“I am not like my mentor,” he said. “Doing the right thing, the kind thing, the honorable thing—it doesn’t come as naturally to me as it did to him.”
It was a startling admission, the sort most people would never make willingly. Yet Ezekiel von Hohenheim spoke without the slightest trace of discomfort.
“I do not even consider myself a particularly virtuous person, for that matter.” Another admission, even more shocking and spoken with casual ease. “However, that doesn’t mean I can’t recognize someone who is. My mentor, Maximilian von Hohenheim, was such a man.”
“So?” Isolde asked.
“So I don’t mind adding to his fame a little, now that he cannot do it himself anymore. That is reward enough for me.”
Isolde considered that for a moment but remained unconvinced. “How could someone who describes himself as unvirtuous have such pure motives?”
Ezekiel smiled, though it was not the earlier affable grin but a harder, contemptuous smirk. “Money, fame, power… Naturally, I crave them all. I hunger for them more than the average man can even imagine.”
There was something in his voice that sent a shiver up Elias’s spine. It made him absolutely certain that Ezekiel von Hohenheim was not exaggerating. In that moment, the young man sounded genuinely ravenous.
“…But I am also confident,” he said, his expression returning to normal. “Confident that I will attain all those things, even if I let go of this one opportunity.”
“Hoh…” Isolde’s eyes never left Ezekiel’s, her finger tapping slowly on the ledger before her.
“One final question,” she said. “If I decide not to disseminate your collection, what will you do?”
Ezekiel didn’t hesitate. “I will spread it on my own. Even if it costs me half my fortune, I will see these spells in the hands of every single person with even a shred of talent.”
Elias’s breath caught. That… was a threat if he had ever heard one. Not a direct threat against any single person, but against the very existence of the Magic Association.
Previously, Elias had wondered if the Association could withstand the backlash from the various factions. Now he considered the opposite: could they withstand the backlash of not being part of this? This collection might be the most influential magical development of the last century…
If Ezekiel von Hohenheim truly spread those spells on his own, wouldn’t he essentially invalidate the very reason the Magic Association existed? And if he revealed they had refused to publish them—
Who would ever trust the Association again?
Elias’s gaze toward Ezekiel shifted. This young man had not come to negotiate. He had come… to blackmail them.
His gaze hesitated as it searched the president’s face. Surely, she would be furious. Isolde Veyr was not someone who tolerated threats. He braced himself for the angry outburst he expected. Yet when his eyes found her, a slight smile played on her lips, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.
“You know,” she said, her voice gentle, “for someone who claims not to be anything like Maximillian, I see a whole lot of him in you.”
“…Thank you.”
“That was not a compliment,” Isolde corrected. “You have that same dogmatic determination, the same self-righteous spirit that insists it always knows best. I told him the same thing long ago: You’ll get yourself killed if you keep this up.”
Ezekiel paused, clearly weighing her words. “Only if my boldness outstrips my growth, President.”
“You seem quite bold already.”
Ezekiel smiled. “I am also quite strong.”
Isolde hesitated, seemingly choosing her next words with even more care than usual. “…Strong enough to escape if I were to turn hostile?”
“Are you going to?”
Isolde didn’t answer directly, holding his gaze. “My highest priority is to protect the Magic Association against all threats. Do you think you are a threat?”
Ezekiel nodded easily. “I am.”
“And you came here knowing that?” At her words, a low hum emanated from the walls.
Elias’s eyes widened. He knew exactly what that meant. Isolde had activated the building’s defensive enchantments. A low pressure settled over them, making it hard to breathe. No one knew exactly how many enchantments the building held, but a few were commonly known: anti-teleport, anti-scrying, anti-telepathy.
For all intents and purposes, the Association building had just become a prison.
His eyes searched Ezekiel’s face for a reaction. Surely, the young man would be deeply shocked by this turn of events.
Even Elias himself had never expected the President to go this far. It was an unprecedented act of aggression against a Merchant Lord. Depending on how it ended, this alone could get the Association expelled from the city.
Yet when his gaze settled on their guest, he found his expression unchanged. There was even a faint upward tilt to his lips, as if he found the situation amusing.
“…I told you,” he said casually, “I am very much unlike my mentor. When I make a big move, I consider the consequences carefully…”
He let those ominous words hang in the air before pointing to the ledger on the desk.
“I am giving you until the end of the week,” he said firmly. “If the spells are not for sale by then, I will start distributing them myself.”
Elias’s eyes widened. Ezekiel von Hohenheim had ignored the implied threat and doubled down on his demands. If nothing else, his courage was remarkable.
The President stared at him silently, as if waiting for something.
Ezekiel inclined his head. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, President Isolde.” Then, turning to Elias, “And you, Mr. Elias.”
Elias bowed instinctively. But when he looked up again, Ezekiel was gone. The spot where he had stood was empty. He scanned the room but found no sign of their guest.
The door—sealed and only openable by those carrying a marker—remained untouched. It was as if Ezekiel von Hohenheim had vanished into thin air. But how was that possible? With the enchantments in place, teleportation should have been impossible, even for an Archmage.
The president’s eyes stayed fixed on the spot where Ezekiel had disappeared, her expression unreadable. Elias did not even dare to breathe, waiting for her next words.
Quietly, she picked up the ledger and stared at it for a long moment.
“Elias,” she said, holding the ledger out to him. “Get to work.”