Chapter 121: Neither Truth nor the Greater Good (2)
Silence descended. Gorgov turned to face Danao.
“You were in on it, weren’t you, Danao! You planned this whole scheme!”
His cry was more of a desperate wail than a shout—an accusation born from the self-justification that often accompanies a deep sense of betrayal.
It would be hard to call it pure paranoia, though. Danao himself had indeed been given a hint about such a situation by the so-called ‘Guide.’
‘We’ll use the relic as bait to draw out Argyrion’s traitor…’
However, he could never have anticipated that such a simple bait plan would end like this. He had thought the traitor would be swiftly dealt with, restoring order to the tower without incident.
In Danao’s mind, the image of the now-empty Amimone Tower kept replaying. Gorgov had been the only one who’d requested access to the mana core, and it had been Danao who approved his temporary access.
But as for what the ‘Agent,’ the one Argyrion called the “Enemy,” was doing inside that tower now, he couldn’t even begin to guess.
Although formal access to the mana core required authorization from the Tower Master, who’s to say there weren’t ways to hack it, or some other underhanded tactic at play?
Amimone was a Pure Tower, and therefore had sophisticated security measures in place. But if Blasphemia—one of the most secretive organizations—was involved, they might have already found ways to bypass such safeguards.
‘No…’
Danao couldn’t help but confront a fundamental question: **Was that person really an agent of Blasphemia?**
The only proof that person had offered was an ID card identifying them as part of Panoptes. If they were truly from Blasphemia, then everything on that card would be a well-crafted lie.
And to make matters worse, Danao himself hadn’t even seen the card. A wizard who had been playing gatekeeper at the time claimed to have seen it, testifying that the man was indeed from Panoptes, and Danao had accepted that.
‘Strictly speaking, I assumed he was a Blasphemia agent hiding behind the massive front of Panoptes…’
But now, Danao had to question everything.
It was a well-known secret to Tower Masters like him that Argyrion’s leadership included former Blasphemia agents.
But would they really refer to someone they called “The Enemy” as a Blasphemia agent? That particular title seemed too specific.
As confusion clouded his mind, Gorgov lunged toward him. Gorgov’s misunderstanding was clear, but he believed in Argyrion now, and he was driven by the nagging fear for the safety of his fellow wizards left behind in the tower.
Danao quickly dodged. An ordinary evasive move wouldn’t have sufficed at this range. He had to use Amimone Tower’s secret spell, one that allowed him to momentarily transform parts of his body into poisonous water.
But it was a mistake.
「Water!」
Roots sprouted from the ground, piercing through Danao’s liquefied body and greedily absorbing the dissolved flesh. Although he hurriedly re-solidified his body, the damage was already done.
‘Not enough blood… My liver too?’
Handling poison required a high degree of safety, and for that, it would have been better to increase the ratio of prosthetics in his body. However, Danao had always believed that a wizard’s own blood and flesh made for the best catalyst, which is why he had kept his prosthetic ratio low.
In close-quarters combat, his signature technique of transforming body parts into poison was usually a strength, but in this situation—where his flesh had been absorbed—it became a liability.
His vision blurred. He tried to use alchemy to replenish his blood, but the silver root fragments lodged in his veins, like splinters, hindered the circulation.
As Danao panted, he heard the oddly clear sound of footsteps.
Step. Step.
Forcing his sluggish body to move, he looked up. In the blurred, alcohol-soaked vision that swayed before him, a dark silhouette stood at the center. Its face was strangely indistinct, but the eyes and the corners of the mouth glowed with a faint, eerie blue.
“You…”
Danao wasn’t sure if he or Gorgov had muttered those words.
The man’s lips twitched in what seemed like a grin. That ominous smile was the last thing Danao saw before he blacked out.
***
“Traitor!”
Gorgov screamed, unleashing his fury. He disabled the limiters on all of his cybernetic combat enhancements, readying every spell in his arsenal and locking onto his target. But something was wrong.
His basic thermal-sensing enchantware, a cheap mass-produced model, could register the figure clearly. Yet his higher-end enchantware, the kind capable of distinguishing the fine magical patterns of individuals, couldn’t recognize the impostor.
‘Is he covered in artifacts, causing severe magical interference? Or is it Blasphemia’s signature mana suppression technique?’
Mana suppression had its limits, so it was more likely the result of artifact interference.
Grinding his teeth, Gorgov manually connected his targeting system directly to his brain, switching to manual aim.
He now had eight spells fully charged and aimed at the impostor, ready to be fired at a moment’s notice.
But Gorgov couldn’t bring himself to launch them. It wasn’t just hesitation. It was something deeper—an emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. After all the deception and lies, why had this impostor left Amimone Tower and come here, to this very spot?
The mana core’s communications network would have exposed the impostor by now, revealing his true identity as Argyrion’s enemy.
‘…The mana core’s comms relay.’
The thought that the impostor might have heard those transmissions filled Gorgov with dread.
The tower’s mana core room held his fellow wizards.
“What did you do to my comrades!?”
“Oh, don’t worry. They’re just taking a little nap. They might have a few nightmares, but nothing life-threatening.”
The impostor’s voice was disturbingly calm, almost mocking.
Gorgov’s urge to attack surged. But he knew that if a battle broke out, there was no telling what might happen to his incapacitated comrades.
He glanced behind him, at the now-giant form of Sprigo towering into the sky. Normally, a massive form like that would be a liability, making one an easy target. But for Sprigo, who had transformed himself into a living plant, the risk was outweighed by the potential rewards.
The roots that had pierced Danao’s poisoned belly were now spread throughout Algoth City, drawing in extra-dimensional mana from all around.
With such a massive influx of power, Sprigo could unleash an explosive amount of mana. If the impostor made any sudden moves, Sprigo could vaporize him before he had a chance to act.
The silver tree’s voice rumbled, vibrating the very air.
「This…」
***
Sprigo’s senses had expanded across the entire city of Algoth, thanks to his ever-growing roots. Wherever his roots reached, he could feel every movement.
It didn’t take long for him to notice someone approaching Amimone Tower.
Yet Sprigo deliberately chose to ignore the humanoid figure coming closer. His instincts warned him that to focus on the enemy too closely was to court danger.
He wasn’t just repeating an urban legend about a monster whose mere gaze could kill. There was a reason why the being had revealed itself now.
—At least, that was what the fragmented memories left behind by Argyrion’s inner circle had suggested.
Sprigo needed to grow faster, to secure a psychic signal strong enough to send a message beyond the extra-dimensional storm, back to Argyrion’s main forces.
He had to warn them about the “Enemy.” To tell them that **Chairman Halto** was needed.
But there were limits to how long he could avoid direct confrontation. Once that entity stood before him, speaking, he found himself reflexively focusing several hundred of the thousands of eyes lining his silver leaves on it.
The rage bubbling up from his very core demanded attention.
In that brief moment when his mind hadn’t yet fully registered the focus, Sprigo’s many consciousnesses—spread across his roots—began debating.
How should we deal with this enemy?
Of course, the optimal choice would be to attack without engaging in conversation.
At the same time, that would be foolish. The very fact that the enemy had revealed themselves meant they were confident. Sprigo did not overestimate his own strength.
Only **Chairman Halto** could match and defeat this being’s malevolent wisdom. All Sprigo needed to do was buy time, time to grow into a living beacon that could send a signal through the dimensional storm.
He decided to project a sense of calm confidence.
‘Something like, “Oh, you wretched heretic dog, still slinking about without a face or name?” That should be enough.’
Just as he settled on that approach, hundreds of his eyes—blooming in place of fruits—finally took in the enemy’s face.
***
「You fucking piece of shit─!!」
Driven by a tidal wave of unfiltered rage, Sprigo roared, his words utterly raw and unrefined, brimming with fury.
Given the size of his emotions, the fact that his outburst amounted to nothing more than crude swearing—revolving around genitalia and reproduction—spoke to the remnants of his intellectual upbringing.
Orthes shrugged lightly.
“Have we met before? My apologies if I don’t remember.”
Then, calmly, he added:
“Let me make sure you won’t have to see me again.”
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