Magician in Type-Moon

Page 526

She paused slightly, her tone becoming even more somber:

"Therefore, action requires patience, and plans should be more stable. Karlger and Jorek alone cannot support an operation of this scale."

As her words unfolded, Grey could feel an undeniable chill spreading through the office.

Reines's reasoning became increasingly sharp; her words were like a sharp blade, peeling away the veil of mystery piece by piece.

“In other words,” Reines paused slightly, as if to let the speculation settle in Grey’s mind.

“Some factions in the Clock Tower, from the very beginning, sent dozens—or possibly more—into the Necropolis as expendable spies, as spies, to accomplish tasks that were virtually impossible.”

"Huh...?" Gray exclaimed blankly, her eyes still somewhat vacant, as if trying to find a clue from this complicated reasoning.

Reines didn't rush to respond to her confusion, but simply sighed softly, seemingly already used to the bewilderment brought about by such leaps in thought.

"The purpose is most likely—no, almost certainly—to investigate the Spirit Tomb Albion while evading the eyes and ears of the Secret Relics Dissection Bureau."

After all, anyone wishing to formally enter Albion must obtain approval from the Bureau of Unseen Excavations, which inevitably limits the scope of investigations and the information available.

Her tone gradually became calmer and more rational, with a touch of detached analysis.

"It is perfectly normal to circumvent these restrictions by sending spies from one's own faction into Albion."

Moreover, considering Albion's unique circumstances, the entire process is quite complex, requiring both time and patience; a decade or two wouldn't be unusual. In fact, if the situation becomes too complicated, it might even take a spy a lifetime.

Every word Reines spoke was like a sharp blade, cutting through Grey's mental framework. She tried to explain the coldness and rationality behind it all with calmer, more abstract language.

but.

But, that way—

"Among Hartles' disciples, the brothers Karg and Jorek are confirmed to be—and perhaps some of the other disciples are spies sent into Albion by the Clock Tower faction."

Reines spoke casually, as if these speculations were just part of everyday conversation.

Upon hearing this, El-Melloi II frowned deeply, his expression more grave than usual, seemingly deeply troubled by this possibility. He asked in a low voice, "In any case, it's possible, isn't it, Reines?"

Reines nodded, her tone calm and composed, yet revealing a deep contemplation that was hard to conceal.

"There is a good chance, hmm, now that you mention it, I should also think about it from that perspective."

Although the El-Melloi faction has rarely been involved in matters concerning Albion, the Tomb of the Dead, and lacks relevant intelligence, this is clearly my oversight. Ah, how frustrating.

She paused, seemingly regretting that she had missed an important clue.

"Although we don't know exactly when they started sending out such spies, to be honest, the scale of the scheme is far beyond what we can easily foresee."

Her words carried a hint of admiration, as if she realized that she had only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg in this power struggle.

Grey was startled and couldn't help but interject:

"Please, please wait a minute! Has everyone accepted that order? It's not just a matter of danger!"

If they don't complete the mission, they won't be able to leave Albion, the Tomb of Spirits! That means they might never be able to go back!

Grey's voice was filled with anxiety and unease, her eyes wide open, as if she couldn't accept the rationale behind this arrangement.

Her question reflects her deepest fear—what kind of psychology and motivation could support such a cruel choice after years of espionage?

Reines did not directly respond to Grey's panic, but slowly picked up her teacup, gazing leisurely at the tea in it, as if she were pondering a more complex problem.

"I will accept it."

She closed one eye, her raised eyebrows conveying an undeniable calmness.

"After all, the magician family has many convenient branch families. These branch families were originally established to maintain the family's survival in the modern world."

Otherwise, they would quickly decline and perish. It was commonplace for families associated with the three noble families to sell their unfavored children into servitude for a chance at advancement.

She paused, her gaze drifting slightly out the window, as if she could see a more distant and complex situation.

"If you can't do that, you'll just disappear into the clock tower and have nowhere to stand again."

Her tone was calm, but the power it contained was chilling.

"Do you know what? They will not hesitate to send people into Albion and stay for at least ten years, or even longer."

Depending on the circumstances, they may be required to remain there until the next generation—their children or grandchildren.

Grey's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a chill run down her spine.

She could hardly imagine how those who had been plunged into such a desperate situation had managed to endure such ruthless orders.

She couldn't imagine being forced to give up her own life; it made everything seem meaningless.

Reines continued, her voice low and firm:

“That’s not surprising, Grey. Basically, when magicians are forced to relocate to remote places far from their main family, they face such choices when they lose support.”

Having lost everything, all they could do was try to ensure the survival of their family in this way.

She put down her teacup and smiled slightly, but there was no warmth in that smile.

"After all, these are just trivial matters. In the eyes of some people in the Clock Tower, the execution of these orders is nothing more than a necessary measure for the survival of the family."

Grey finally realized that the girl in front of her was not just a bystander to these cruel phenomena, but a part of them.

Reines's words revealed a cold reality that had never been touched before, a profound experience that she, as a member of a magician's family, could not avoid.

Within the El-Melloi family, Reines was once at the very end of the lineage. Due to damage to her Source Mark, she was expelled from her original path early on and eventually became the successor of a faction.

It wasn't that she wanted to be the heir, but that she had no other choice.

Reines could only sit in that position surrounded by numerous conspiracies and even facing the danger of assassination.

Magicians, indeed, are capable of such feats.

The Clock Tower, this place really can push people to this point.

Or rather, the way magicians exist has already distorted the world to an irreversible degree.

This cold, ruthless reality pressed down on Grey's chest like a heavy stone slab.

She understood that what Reines was saying was not just a theory, but a cruel reality, the rule of this world, an inescapable destiny.

"So... Miss Ashira and Mr. Kuro are also?" Gray's voice lowered, carrying a hint of uncertainty and doubt.

She couldn't quite believe it, but the unease in her heart compelled her to ask.

Reines did not answer directly, but sighed softly, as if carefully considering how to express herself.

"As I just said, there is a strong possibility."

Her tone was not urgent, but rather carried a weary calm.

"Even if Ashira and Kuro have lived in Albion since birth, it cannot guarantee that they will be completely protected from the Clock Tower's intrigue."

Chapter 580 Celestial Bodies and Spirit Summoning (4k)

A corner of London.

Deep in the forest on the outskirts of the city, an ancient and secluded mansion stands quietly, like a relic forgotten on the edge of time.

The air inside the mansion was thick with a sense of dust and silence. Inside, sat an old man, as withered as a dead tree, as if the years had left heavy marks on him.

He was the owner of this mansion, dressed in black, his chest and fingers adorned with jewels—stones whose brilliance had faded, now resembling ornaments set in a corpse, both ornate and pitiful.

His expression seemed hollowed out by time, with only his dark gaze wandering in mid-air.

Lord Euryphus, Rufreus Nazele Euryphus.

Even among the conservative aristocracy of the Clock Tower, his name was a heavy symbol. He maintained the dignity and pride of the ancient family with an unwavering stance, just like this mansion, guarding a long-gone era on the edge of London's woods.

The old man turned his shadowy eyes to look at the newcomer, his voice breaking the silence like a dry wind:

"Get out of here... you dogs of the Legal Affairs Department."

The female magician standing before him remained unmoved. Her expression was calm, her tone sharp as a blade:

"What a pity. I always thought I wasn't hated by 'Euphora' of the Spirit Summoning Department to that extent."

The old man's hoarse voice rang out again, a low murmur tinged with resentment and weariness:

"Bartholomew is... our king... his resolve has never wavered... but that is not a reason to love you... You knew about... the attack by the Boundary Recording Belt... yet you remained silent..."

"As the person in charge, I have an obligation to keep this confidential."

Without hesitation, Hanako Ryori answered, then took a letter from her bosom, its envelope sealed with thick red wax. She gently placed it on the table beside her and gave an elegant bow.

"As you requested, I have left this letter."

After saying that, she walked out of the room without looking back, her footsteps quickly disappearing at the end of the corridor.

Silence followed, as if even the mansion itself was holding its breath.

After a while, Rufreus's empty gaze moved again. He looked at the letter, which floated silently into the air and hovered there.

Driven by his will, the spirit opened the envelope in his place, its movements far swifter and more precise than those of a mortal.

This is an exorcism.

Is it the ancient engraving ability he inherited, or the effect of one of the many gems he wears?

Olga Marie Animusfia, standing nearby, had no idea what to do; she simply held her breath and waited for the old man's reaction.

Rufreus's eyes swept over the letter, and he immediately showed displeasure, letting out a harsh "tsk" from his throat.

Olga Marie looked up and asked cautiously:

"Sir, what...did it say in the letter?"

"In the name of... the previous Barthemello... I am asked to stop Albion's redevelopment plan."

The old man answered coldly, his tone devoid of anger, but rather tinged with a desolate weariness.

"Hmph, it's just... reminding me of this obvious thing..."

His voice, like the lingering wind in a dry well, echoed in the silent mansion:

“The previous generation… was the key… This time… I’m afraid they might not be able to stop… that madman Tramberg…”

"If it is... an instruction left by the previous leader, at least it will not harm Barthez's reputation."

His tone paused for a moment, then a mocking smile twisted at the corner of his mouth:

"This generation's leader... was born a 'complete magician'... even so... before he truly matured... there was no need for him to abdicate the throne... yet he chose to abdicate prematurely..."