Amella looked at Ruon, who was gazing in wonder at the floor gently floating upwards, and spoke.
“It’s a levitating stone. When you infuse it with mana, it levitates. And when it’s not infused with mana, it descends slowly, making it very convenient for this kind of layered structure.”
As her explanation came to an end, the levitating stone, which had been decelerating, stopped.
The group climbed up the stairs and followed Eddie into a narrow corridor.
As they walked down the corridor, Amella asked, “Eddie, are the old men still the same?”
Eddie, who was walking at the front, let out an annoyed snort.
“Ha, same old, unfortunately.”
“Have you figured much out?”
Eddie poured out his words as if he had been waiting for that question.
“Amella, as you know, it’s not been just a day or two since the work on interpreting the Philosopher’s Stone has stalled. It’s been over ten years since work stagnated, and I’m always hysterical, trying to convince myself that it’s just because Salvator damaged the stone... It’s more than my erratic mind can handle.”
Amella sighed at Eddie, who continued talking without a break.
“They’ve always been like that, but you should stop it with the split consciousness. Reduce the burden on your mental system. You’re using more than half of your time being ‘you’ rather than ‘yourself.'”
Eddie didn’t like her nagging, shaking his head.
“That’s enough. It’s hard enough to deal with the old men and their piled workload, I don’t need to add you to the mix.”
He added.
“Fortunately, most of the old men are so obsessed with their research that they rarely leave their rooms. That’s why Iredor is the only one officially handling the affairs.”
“Iredor’s not so bad.”
“At least he’s talkative.”
Listening to the two people conversing with each other, Kyle whispered to Ruon.
“What are they talking about? I can’t understand a word because they keep mentioning magicians.”
“They’re just gossiping about their bosses.”
“What’s a boss?”
A literal maze of books greeted the group as they passed through the hallway, sharing various conversations.
Even Ruon let out a short gasp at the dizzying sight of thick volumes that must have numbered in the tens of thousands, each stacked along the walls.
‘Incredible.’
The group followed Eddie, who moved forward without stopping, veering this way and that as if he were used to coming this way, and after a few moments, they arrived in front of an old man lying in a hammock, reading a book.
“Long time no see, Amella.”
Without looking away from his book, the old man, who only moved his mouth, received Amella’s light bow.
“It’s been a while. Master Iredor.”
‘So, the old man is the Master of the Tower.’
Ruon’s eyes lit up at the unexpected title, and the old man stood up.
Turning his head, the old man observed the faces of the group and slowly opened his mouth.
“You’ve brought strange fellows.”
He pointed his spindly fingers alternately at Ruon and Kyle.
“It’s quite amusing to see a man who’s not even remotely sacred wielding a sword blessed by Tibella’s grace. And the other one, carrying the long-lost spell destroyer... Who on earth are you fellows?”
Kyle extended his thumb towards the shield hanging behind his back and asked, “Is this shield the spell destroyer?”
At his confident question, wrinkles appeared between Iredor’s eyes.
“Have you been carrying that thing around without even knowing its history? You reckless fellow... That shield is...”
At that moment, Eddie intervened.
“We can talk about that later. It’s better to finish what we need to discuss while I’m still sane.”
Saying that, Eddie held out the stone he had been carrying in one hand.
Iredor’s eyes narrowed deeply as he received the stone.
“It seems like you’re heavily contaminated by Belducias’s power. Did you even go as far as borrowing the hand of Quintuanus?”
Amella, who remained silent, saw Iredor click his tongue.
“Well, that’s your business.”
Shaking his head, he said, “It’s going to be difficult to restore the Philosopher’s Stone right away. For now, we’ll have to be satisfied that it’s back in our hands.”
For the first time, Iredor looked straight at Amella and said, “You’ve been through a lot to return it.”
The air was dim and filled with a sinister aura, the murky water rose up to their ankles, and floating within it was blood.
Following the long streaks of blood with his eyes, Ruon could spot something enormous crouching in the distance.
As Ruon watched it gradually unfold its twisted form, he gritted his teeth.
It was a gigantic hand.
Three huge hands of different colors, one in red, one yellow, and one black.
“...Belducius.”
In that moment, the ground beneath Ruon’s feet crumbled and began to sink. As he plummeted into the abyss-like darkness along with the crumbling land, a familiar voice echoed in his ears.
“Are you awake?”
In a flash, Ruon opened his eyes and looked into the blue irises of Amella, who was leaning against the headboard of the bed, wearing a worried expression.
“Did I lose consciousness?”
“Surprisingly.”
‘Have I ever lost consciousness due to someone else?’
Judging by how he couldn’t remember, it seemed unlikely.
“What happened?”
Amella immediately answered.
“After Iredor let go of your hand, you remained standing in the same spot without moving. You stood like that for a few minutes and then suddenly lost consciousness. You should have seen Kyle’s expression...”
As if something crossed her mind, Amella’s low murmuring ceased, and she asked, “I know it’s rude, but can I ask what you saw?”
Since it wasn’t really a secret, Ruon answered right away.
“I came face to face with something that looked like Belducius, but I’m not sure if it was really him.”
Amella’s eyes widened.
“You saw him?”
While looking at Ruon, who nodded nonchalantly, Amella muttered to herself.
“The past, where you purified the power of Belducius’ minions by killing three of them with the Holy Sword, must have had a significant influence. However, Ruon... as Iredor said, it’s not a definite future, so there’s no need to worry.”
Ruon raised an eyebrow.
“Worry? What do you mean?”
“Well...”
“Didn’t I already say it before? When faced with such a situation, just kill them. That’s all.”
Amella laughed dryly at Ruon’s resolute words.
“It’s strange. Whenever you say something like that, it never sounds like a joke.”
“It’s not a joke.”
Amella burst into laughter, pressing her finger against her mouth, as if trying to hold back her laughter.
“Ruon, can I ask you something?”
“You have a lot of questions today.”
“Is it not allowed?”
“Well, there’s nothing I can’t answer.”
Perhaps not expecting such an agreeable response, Amella widened her eyes and slowly began to speak.
“I’ve always been curious. With your level of skills, you could live anywhere and be treated like royalty. Why don’t you do that?”
Ruon couldn’t answer immediately.
Her question penetrated his entire life as the character known as Ruon.
Why does he fight? Why does he level up? Why does he seek stronger opponents? Why...
Why can’t he settle down?
Naturally, the answer had always been the same.
He wanted to go back.
Not because he desperately missed the life of a 26-year-old college student who had no time to spare for job preparation, but simply because it was where he belonged.
No matter how strong his body and swordsmanship were in this world, Ruon was merely an eternal stranger plagued by a longing for home.
As Ruon searched for a sentence that could succinctly explain all those emotions to Amella, he suddenly smiled lightly and opened his mouth.