Chapter 45: The Price of Power

Klein gently eased the heavy door closed.

With that, everything beyond the threshold was utterly sealed away.

In the corridor, Horace shed his earlier decrepit demeanor, his back now ramrod straight, his chin subtly lifted.

Each stride he took radiated an air of supreme indifference, the hem of his mage’s robe snapping like a banner behind him.

Lia trailed behind, still cradling the paper bag of Poof-Poof fruit. She watched Horace’s ‘grand entrance’ strut, then glanced at Klein, whose expression remained utterly unchanged, and couldn’t help but marvel inwardly.

‘Such a swift transformation of demeanor—it was truly a waste of talent for him not to be on stage.’

Quickening her pace, she drew close to Horace, her small face tilted up, her eyes brimming with sincere admiration.

“Master Horace, you were truly amazing just now!”

Lia declared earnestly, “With just a few words, Master Horace, you had them emptying their deepest coffers, as if they’d been robbed! And they even had to thank you for it.”

Her words struck precisely at Horace’s deepest gratification. The smile at the corner of his lips stretched irrepressibly upward, his facial wrinkles smoothed away, and a robust, booming laugh erupted from him.

“Haha, merely a trifle, a mere trifle!”

He waved a dismissive hand, a picture of smug pride. “One must speak the only language those gutter rats understand,” he proclaimed.

Before his words had even faded, a palm-sized magical light screen materialized in the air before him, entirely without warning.

Within the glowing screen, the face of a noblewoman emerged: exquisitely made-up, her red hair coiled in an impeccable chignon, a faint smile playing in her eyes.

“Ho~ra~ce~”

A soft, melodious female voice drifted languidly from the light screen, each syllable drawn out with a lingering tail, like the finest silk—gentle, yet imbued with an irresistible power.

“Darling, where are you? Have you… forgotten what day it is again?”

The woman’s voice paused, her amusement audibly deepening.

“Need I come personally to ‘invite’ you back?”

Lia watched, utterly transfixed, as the Nine-Ring Archmage, so full of vigor and triumph just moments before, had his smug expression instantly freeze, fracture, and then utterly collapse.

An emotion akin to pure horror visibly crawled across every one of his wrinkles.

“I’m doomed! Utterly, completely doomed!”

Horace jolted as if a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his entire body trembling, words failing to form coherently on his lips.

He frantically scribbled a teleportation rune before him, its complexity dizzying to behold.

A gate of light swiftly materialized beside him. Without even a moment to bid farewell to Lia and Klein, he plunged headlong into it.

In the split second before his figure vanished, Lia distinctly heard a tearful, trembling cry lingering in the air.

“I’ll be right there! My dear!”

The gate of light abruptly winked out of existence.

Silence once again descended upon the corridor.

Lia stared at the spot where Horace had stood moments before, still clutching an uneaten Poof-Poof fruit, feeling utterly bewildered.

She silently turned her head, looking at Klein.

Klein’s expression remained utterly unperturbed, as if such a scene were an everyday occurrence for him.

“He…” Lia had just uttered a word.

“Let us go.” Klein cut her off concisely, turning and heading towards the academy.

Lia reluctantly swallowed her burgeoning gossip and curiosity, then jogged to keep pace.

After traversing several streets, they arrived back at the magnificent gates of the Academy of Magic.

Just before stepping onto the teleportation platform, Klein halted, turning to face Lia.

“From today onwards, you can move freely within the academy.”

Lia’s eyes instantly lit up.

“Really? I don’t have to be confined to the mage tower anymore?”

“Indeed.” Klein held her gaze, adding, “However, you are strictly forbidden from leaving the confines of the academy’s ward.”

His tone remained level, yet Lia discerned the clear warning veiled beneath its placid surface.

“I promise!” She instantly raised a hand, her declaration fervent.

Over the next few days, Lia truly reveled in the freedom she had so ardently yearned for.

She visited the academy’s Grand Library, a place devoid of administrators. Amidst the towering, ceiling-high bookshelves, individual tomes drifted through the air like a flock of docile birds, answering the silent summons of readers.

She paused in a vast plaza, observing the central griffin sculpture from whose mouth erupted ever-shifting columns of water, refracting a vibrant spectrum of colors in the sunlight.

On the training grounds, she witnessed apprentices diligently practicing various rudimentary spells—fireballs, wind blades, water arrows—most of them of questionable potency, yet all imbued with a vibrant, youthful exuberance.

This world, it seemed, was not as bad as she had imagined.

***

A week later, having finished lunch, Lia embarked on her customary post-meal stroll through the academy grounds. Before she knew it, she found herself before the colossal bulletin board in the central plaza.

It was a massive slab of black crystal, across which various announcements scrolled in luminous magical script.

Her gaze immediately fell upon the topmost announcement, inscribed in golden script and issued by the Mage Association.

First Phase Reading Notice Regarding “New Truth”

The Theory Council of the Mage Association has recently received a groundbreaking theoretical manuscript…

We will extend priority invitations to high-ring mages (Seventh Ring and above) possessing flexible minds and an openness to new theories, to participate in the initial phase of reading and deliberation…

As Lia read the announcement, the corner of her mouth instinctively curved upward.

‘A “groundbreaking theoretical manuscript”—surely they were speaking of her treatise.’

‘She wondered what magnificent expressions those lofty Archmages would display upon encountering a manuscript capable of shattering their entire worldview.’

Lost in her pleased musings, her gaze inadvertently drifted downward, sweeping across the myriad of other miscellaneous notices.

In an inconspicuous corner of the bulletin board, she spotted a brief communiqué from the Royal Department of Public Order, its font barely larger than that of the adjacent lost-and-found notices.

Public Order Bulletin for Silverleaf Town, Southern Province:

Recently, the Public Order Mages of Silverleaf Town, in conjunction with the Royal Guard, successfully dismantled a large-scale human trafficking ring.

The Vincent family, which had been deeply entrenched in the local area for many years, was utterly uprooted…

All core members of the Vincent family have now been apprehended and sentenced to severe penalties, with all their assets confiscated by the Crown.

Lia’s eyes had initially intended to merely skim over the text.

‘The Vincent family?’

‘That surname… why does it sound familiar?’

A thought, swift as lightning, streaked through her mind.

She suddenly recalled the name Marcus had spat out upon leaving that private room, the one dubbed ‘The Gilded Birdcage’—

“Baroque Vincent.”

Lia’s pupils abruptly constricted, the motion of chewing her Poof-Poof fruit freezing instantly.

She fixated on the text once more, scrutinizing it word by agonizing word.

The Vincent family… utterly uprooted… all core members… severe penalties… assets confiscated…

Each word landed like a frigid hammer blow, striking savagely at her heart.

That imbecile who had tried to abduct her, that clown so effortlessly manipulated by Horace—his surname was Vincent.

And now, his family was no more.

From the foolish actions of a Seventh-Ring Mage in the capital to the utter eradication of a noble house entrenched in a province—all transpired within a single week.

Lia felt a profound chill surge from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head, leaving her limbs icy.

She had always believed that Horace had simply taught those presumptuous individuals a lesson that day, incidentally extorting a substantial sum for ’emotional distress’.

Yet she had never imagined that behind his nonchalant instruction, ‘Handle it yourselves,’ lay such a devastating, root-and-branch campaign of bloody retribution!

She raised her head, her gaze once more drawn to the golden announcement at the top, proclaiming the ‘New Truth’.

This time, her emotions were far from simple curiosity and eager anticipation.

An unprecedented weight settled heavily upon her heart.

She finally grasped the profound truth: the theories she had cast into this world were not mere knowledge confined to paper.

They were power.

Power capable of utterly annihilating a family, and, equally, of crushing her into dust.