His triumphant return to the Tower was somewhat diminished by the large crowd filling the streets and especially the plaza around it.

  Mages, civilians, and soldiers mingled, all fixated on the same thing, displaying reactions from shock and a sense of justice to more than a hint of vicious glee.

  Nick decided to step off the carriage, ignoring the coachman's shouts, and walk there himself to see what was drawing their attention. It was actually necessary for once because [Empyrean Intuition] was sending mixed signals, showing solid mana alongside some distortion of the wards he couldn’t understand.

  The auxiliary building? He wondered, confused by everyone's interest in it.

  That question was quickly answered as he set his eyes on something he would remember for the rest of his life.

  A man, or what used to be a man, hovered just above the building. He was missing an arm, and his sleeve should have been flapping in the wind, but like the rest of him, it was frozen in time.

  His face was a grimace of horror and resignation, as if he had just seen something he knew he couldn’t do anything against. At the same time, his one good hand was extended, the skin still glowing with tattoos.

  This was clearly another member of the Circle of Pure Souls, probably assigned to cause disturbances and stop the Tower’s mages from rescuing the temple.

  Whether this would have been even necessary, considering the enmity between the Tower and the religions, Nick didn’t know, but it was clear the attempt had failed.

  “Is he still alive?” a woman asked, half in awe, half in horror, and a nearby mage snorted.

  “As alive as a fossil. Technically, he has the potential for life, but nothing I know of could break the curse the Tower Master placed on him.”

  Ah, that would do it, yes. Nick had yet to meet Horatio Bluetear in person, but he’d learned enough during his time as an apprentice to know that there was very little that man wasn’t capable of. If he’d taken offense at the Pure Souls attacking a building that was technically under his protection, it would make sense for him to make an example of them.

  “So, is he just going to stay there forever?” The same woman asked again.

  “It’s possible,” the mage replied. “It would certainly be a good symbol to show the Tower’s power. But my guess is that he’ll be kept there for a week or two, and then moved off. Just long enough for the message to penetrate.”

  Nick nodded silently. That sounded like something he’d do. Especially in the aftermath of such a violent attack on the city’s infrastructure and power centers, the Tower had to demonstrate its strength.

  The Duke’s speech helped calm unrest, but trust in local institutions remained fragile. It would take time for it to fully recover.

  Shaking his head at how quickly things had escalated and how badly they could have turned out if several key players, including himself, hadn’t stepped in, Nick slipped away from the scene and headed toward the Tower.

  The two spell-blade guards eyed him closely as he approached, but he showed them his tag as Tholm’s apprentice, and they allowed him to pass with only a warning to be cautious.

  The elevator ride up to the seventy-seventh floor was unexpectedly quiet. It seemed that nearly the entire Tower’s population was out and about, probably helping with the rebuilding efforts or working to track down the Pure Souls who had escaped.

  Nick doubted they would succeed. The entire plan had been carried out too perfectly. If they didn’t have a guaranteed way to escape the city, he’d eat his coat.

  I hope peace and functionality are restored soon. I need to get my hands on the orichalcum I purchased if I want to make the next leap, and this whole situation has shown me I’m not nearly as advanced as I’d like to be.

  It would take him some time to prepare for the actual construction of his new focus, especially since he needed to study the orichalcum in detail, focusing on its cross-reactions with all the other ingredients.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  But once that was accomplished, he would wield a focus few could ever hope to match.

  The elevator doors slid open, letting him onto Tholm’s floor, and he felt the Tower’s wards flicker over him, verifying his identity.

  Still on high alert, huh? That makes sense. If Changer can take any appearance he wants, others could do the same with the right tattoos, and just after an attack would be the least expected time for covert operations.

  His thoughts were interrupted as he sensed not only Tholm’s presence, which he expected, but also another. One that felt wispy, almost intangible, yet carried a weight that couldn’t be ignored.

  Nick steeled himself and stepped into the library, where he saw his mentor and another old man. Something about the latter’s appearance nagged at Nick, telling him not everything was as it should be, yet he couldn't find anything out of place.

  Sure, his burgundy robes were a bit gaudy, and the long, white beard almost painfully stereotypical, but he would certainly not be the first mage to embody the archetype of an ancient wizard.

  It was somewhat of a trend among the elderly in the Tower, as far as Nick knew. They seemed to take great pains to be as wizardly as possible.

  “Nicholas. I hear you’ve been through another adventure,” Tholm greeted, with only mild exasperation. “I would like to scold you, but I know you wouldn’t have intervened if you didn’t think it was necessary, and the message I received from the castle made it clear your contribution was once again pivotal.”

  Nick shrugged, feeling uneasy about that much attention. The other old man seemed to be watching him closely, yet he showed no sign of wanting to get involved, as if he were there only to observe the exchange without interfering.

  “I did what I had to do. Grandmaster Xander was the one who handled the real threat. I just disrupted their ritual.”

  It was an understatement, as he’d done considerably more than that, but the truth was that if he had been forced to face the creature Xander fought, he probably would have died.

  The incredible regeneration that thing had, beyond its ridiculous reserves and its insanity-inducing properties, would have made it an opponent impossible to beat without a lot of preparation.

  I can only do so many miracles. On the other hand, if I had a powerful enough focus, I might have been able to set up a ritual to redirect its power on itself fast enough.

  Tholm snorted, turning to the other man with a wry smile. “See what I have to deal with? Back when we were apprentices, we would have been eager to show off. Now all my kids know is false modesty. If I didn’t know he was a rascal at heart, I’d be worried.”

  The man chuckled, “Oh, we were rascals too, back in the day. Why, I remember once you infused Tripping Toad venom into old Master Jages’ tea. Oh, those were the days.” His voice was croaky and ancient, yet somehow still strong, and though his eyes crinkled in mirth, they never strayed from Nick.

  Tholm waved him off, embarrassment coloring his demeanor, though his rings made it impossible to tell if it was genuine or affected. “Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to go there, Tower Master. I have several stories I’ve kept in reserve, but I’ll bring them out if I need to defend my honor.”

  Nick’s eyes widened at the reveal, and he quickly dipped into a bow. “Tower Master, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh, stand up, son. I was never one for formalities, and today is certainly not the day to start," Horatio Bluetear, the most powerful mage in the West, cackled.

  His presence in the ether was elusive, ambiguous enough that Nick couldn’t really get a lock on what he was truly feeling, but even just a brief glance was enough to tell him this man was the real deal.

  So far, Archmages of the Tower had come in two flavors. Those who preferred subtlety, like Tholm, who concealed their true power and presented mysterious fronts to keep others guessing, and those like Hone, who was rumored to wield the weight of his vast mana reserves like a blunt hammer, frightening others into obedience.

  Horatio Bluetear appeared to belong to the first category, but only at first glance. A keen enough observer would be able to notice the immense shadow he cast all around them, so large and deep that it was almost impossible to notice.

  It was subtle, almost hidden, but once seen... it couldn’t be ignored anymore, and Nick knew he would never feel comfortable around the man, even though he hadn't done anything aggressive.

  It’s almost like being in a temple, with the press of a god’s constant attention on you. But this is just one man, and he’s not even doing it on purpose. It’s not even an active effect, but a passive result of the immense power he possesses.

  “So this is him, huh?” Horatio murmured, and Nick straightened up.

  “It is,” Tholm confirmed. “His time in the Tower has been brief, but his contributions far surpass those of many graduate mages. You know I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think he deserved it.”

  Nick remained still, caught in the icy blue gaze of the Tower Master. There was no hostility there. It was just their sheer intensity that made him feel like a pinned-down butterfly, ready to be dissected for study.

  “Hm, alright then. I guess it is a bit unorthodox, but if he has proven himself worthy, I don’t see why not.” Horatio finally said, releasing Nick from his grip as he stood. “Wait a week or two before you go off into the wilderness, though. I want every Archmage in the city until things have stabilized.”

  Tholm simply nodded patiently, and Horatio grunted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a meeting with that rascal who allowed the Circle of Pure Souls to do whatever they wanted in my city while I was gone."

  And with that, he vanished. There was no flicker of mana, not even a sympathetic reaction from the wards to indicate he had attached himself to them.

  A deep sigh echoed, and Nick looked back at his mentor.

  “Is everything all right, sir?” He asked.

  Tholm hummed, “As good as can be, considering the circumstances. It will be some time before he calms down.”

  Nick tilted his head. The Tower Master had seemed as cool as a cucumber to him, and although he didn’t have the advantage of reading his emotions, he’d become quite skilled at sensing what people were feeling.

  But Tholm clenched his fists, and Nick noticed his hands had the faintest tremor. What could frighten a man of his power enough to trigger such a reaction? He didn’t know, and that might be even worse than knowing.

  It took two days for the city to recover enough for the imposed lockdown to be lifted. Nick spent that time in intensive study, flipping through all kinds of tomes on orichalcum and its forging techniques, feeling confident he had built a solid enough knowledge base to test several methods.

  More importantly, he finally received a message telling him he could visit the castle at his earliest convenience and withdraw his winnings after depositing the cash.

  After informing Tholm of where he would be and receiving a lecture about staying out of trouble and not accepting agreements with other nobles without a trusted person to vet them, he finally set off.