TBR CH172

Inside the Mage Tower, Deceased Archmage Roland’s Room

“A black cat snatched the staff the Archmage left behind, and then it escaped.”

The python’s dark green scales made a faint hissing sound as they rubbed against the ground. It bared its mouth, flicking its scarlet tongue, and nuzzled the newcomer’s clothes like an eager puppy.

The witch bent down and awkwardly picked it up, letting it coil around her shoulders several times.

“Good boy, good boy, you did very well—I told you, don’t think I’m joking about Master. It’s absolutely true; you arrived a step too late. Otherwise, you’d doubt your eyes just like me.”

“But, Hilda,”

Someone idly spun the staff in their hand, a glimmer of disbelief emanating from its tip. “I can’t think of any reason you couldn’t stop it. You’re the best among the apprentices, and that was just a black cat.”

The purple-haired witch, Hilda, retorted:

“Precisely, ‘just’ a black cat that could perfectly cast the eighth-tier spell ‘Light of Silence’ with Master’s staff using only its tail.”

“That’s the crux of the matter,”

Another apprentice said with the look of a fanatic. “Stop petting that big snake you’ve raised like a puppy. Do you remember that Master always wanted to raise a black cat, and it was because of it that he didn’t—”

The witch looked at him with a wary expression: “Oh, wait, you’re not going to tell me that because we made the Mage Tower’s environment not very livable, Master impulsively ran away from home and then came back as a cat, are you? Even if he is the Archmage of the Star Tower, isn’t that deduction a bit too far-fetched?”

“Master is omnipotent.”

The other person said it irrefutably, as if it were an undeniable truth.

To outsiders, this group of mages was hopelessly obsessed with power and held a kind of unconditional, blind faith in their master.

Hilda actually nodded:

“I agree. However, I swear on my honor as the new Chief of the Mage Association, this was merely an extraordinary attack. We’re past the age of squabbling over ‘I’m Master’s best student,’ and I’m not naive enough to believe in cat mage fairy tales, so let’s end the dispute here.”

The purple-haired witch announced solemnly, and the overly large snake draped over her shoulder raised its cloudy eyes, staring at the mage apprentices before them.

Her fingertips touched the python’s cold scales, and she whispered with a lingering sigh:

“If anyone has offended the Mage Tower, I will pursue them to the end. But before that, our goal has always been clear: guard this tower and wait for Master to return… We all promised to do so.”

Maintaining leadership among a group of eccentric mages wasn’t easy.

However, as Archmage Roland’s former all-purpose assistant—whose duties included going to the depths of Atlantis to pluck a narwhal’s whisker, or planting a soft, fragile cornflower in a scorching volcano—Hilda temporarily felt that her current position wouldn’t be more troublesome than fulfilling Master’s requests.

Therefore, her words successfully subdued the others present.

She elegantly rounded the corner, her tall figure disappearing from everyone’s sight.

So no one saw that the dignified and composed witch, the moment she confirmed she was alone, excitedly bounced twice on the spot with her python in her arms, silently screaming.

The feeling of keeping an epic-level secret in front of others was simply thrilling. Hilda reached up to press her temples, but a suppressed, silly grin still curved her lips.

She once again immensely thanked her talent:

—the ability to communicate with animals.

Deep within the Demon King’s Castle, the magnificent palace shaped by the Abyss Demon race for their King.

Kriesmeier raised his scythe.

This scene was depicted just as in countless promotional images: players in front of the screen tensed their nerves, their fingertips pressed tightly against the keyboard, ready to rapidly unleash a skill at any moment.

Sometimes they could dodge the Demon King’s first wave of attacks if the Demon King was in a good mood; most of the time, the Demon King had no patience, and they were directly hit by a flash of light so bright it seemed to tear both ends of the screen.

The instantaneous overflow of red damage numbers unequivocally declared the meaning of that strike.

At this very moment, Kriesmeier directly tore the adventurer in front of him in half with the giant scythe in his hand. The adventurer’s body did not bleed, nor did it show any sign of pain.

He just stared with gradually hollow eyes, quietly turning into countless tiny fragments and disappearing into the empty Demon King’s Hall. Once again, only the invincible Demon King remained in the palace.

Today’s challenger had created a face that was particularly similar to that person.

The bone at the end of the weapon pressed hard against Kriesmeier’s fingers. As he recalled that name, the cold blood of the demon race seemed to boil, and his dark golden pupils revealed the cruel, bloody nature of a non-human beast.

He couldn’t help but use his full strength when swinging his weapon, as if his opponent was that powerful human who required his absolute best.

Perhaps it would be difficult, but there was a chance to force the mage to the very last step with a sharp blade, and then personally reap his life. Then, to drink his blood and flesh, take his ribs, gaze into his lifeless eyes, waiting for his hair to fade to a light gold like dawn, then he would completely belong to you.

…The opponent was actually utterly vulnerable.

And that human, of course, couldn’t come back. Kriesmeier stopped imagining; he was fed up but couldn’t shake off this thought that had rekindled countless times.

Even the preferences of the Abyss race had nothing to do with light. The entire palace was dim; the obsidian floor seemed to bring an endless polar night. The scythe fell to the ground, and the sharp sound of metal friction scraped against eardrums, sending chills down one’s spine.

The Demon King put away his weapon and his wings. When his dark wings unfolded before the throne, each feather was enough to sever a life.

Below the throne, all who approached could only bow their heads.

Their Demon King was cruel and autocratic, ill-tempered and impatient. The Abyss demons were born without heart or emotion, choosing to follow a demon not out of loyalty but out of fear.

The material at the end of Kriesmeier’s scythe, “Demon Eye,” came from his siblings and the former Demon King who was closest to him, his father. It still lacked a central bone.

The Demon King suddenly raised his wrathful eyes, looking at the wing beneath his throne:

“What did you say? Say it again.”

“My Lord,”

The other readily obeyed, repeating, “The veracity of this message still needs to be verified, but the Mage Tower did indeed announce to the outside world that a black cat stole the Archmage’s… treasured possession, namely the long-unseen staff ‘Nova’.”

Even the demon reporting felt this news was utterly absurd.

But before he finished speaking, Kriesmeier stepped down the stairs, one step at a time.

The others present were silent, yet unsurprised by this outcome.

Any news concerning the deceased mage Roland directly affected their king’s actions. Although his name was not allowed to be mentioned directly in the Demon King’s Castle, and certainly no words associating him with “death” were permitted, such as the phrase “Saint Roland’s legacy,” which directly crossed the Demon King’s bottom line.

The moment Kriesmeier’s toe touched the obsidian floor, his entire being was enveloped by dark wings. The sheer power released by the spatial transfer magic was terrifyingly potent, enough to extinguish any nascent thoughts of rebellion from other demons.

Without even a momentary pause, his figure vanished from the center of the silent hall.

The remaining demons in the hall looked at each other. But as they gazed at each other, the greed and malice they dared not show before the Demon King openly pierced their kin.

For their own safety, these dukes of the Abyss finally decided to part peacefully, each returning to their own territory, cautiously refraining from mentioning a single word about the Demon King Kriesmeier’s situation.

The world believed that Kriesmeier had murdered Archmage Roland, who had come to crusade against the Demon King.

But those who had been in the Demon King’s Castle ten years ago were perhaps the ones who could most accurately discern the relationship between Demon King Kriesmeier and the deceased Archmage.

The despicable human had blinded the Demon King with the word “love,” disarmed the Demon King’s defenses, extinguished the Demon King’s powerful flames fueled by hatred and pain, and softened the Abyss Demon race’s sharpest blade with honey. The unparalleled Demon King of the era had willingly succumbed to submission and trembling. Until that unannounced departure, everything became the Demon King’s shame.

Now, Roland to Kriesmeier—

Was a mortal enemy, prey, and a part of his yet-to-be-forged weapon.

The last vacant spot on the scythe “Demon Eye” was reserved for him, to be filled with the third rib above the mage’s heart.

Roland had to instruct his over-excited apprentice to remain silent.

Earlier, he straightened his back, subconsciously performing a dazzling series of combos in front of the computer screen. His most familiar staff, “Nova,” began to pleasantly radiate light as he expected. The light, separated by a screen, traversed the distance between two worlds, still only faintly distorted when reflected in Roland’s eyes.

Although he was just a black cat, it was enough.

As Roland murmured “that’s enough” with a sigh of relief, the black cat he controlled smoothly jumped onto the Mage Tower’s window ledge, its tail hooked around the staff, precariously balanced on the edge.

The eighth-tier spell “Light of Silence” served to temporarily immobilize other creatures present. “Silence” on the battlefield undoubtedly referred not to physical sound but to mutually aggressive weapons. The python was confusedly frozen in place, instinctively casting a pitiful glance at its owner from the corner of its eye; its previous intimidation had vanished. The witch also paused in shock.

Her beautiful purple hair almost lost its color due to surprise, and she blurted out:

“Ma… Master?”

Roland was about to press the “jump down” action when the dialogue box suddenly popped up, making him subtly pause. He stared at the constantly flashing microphone icon next to the chat channel in the bottom left corner of the game page, quickly understanding what had happened.

He suppressed an urge to sigh, then decided that the scene before him wasn’t too bad.

“—I didn’t anticipate that your talent would allow you to hear me speak.”

Roland spoke into the headset’s microphone again, now with the characteristic calm and nonchalance of an Archmage facing any situation, as if his sudden appearance as a black cat in his own room after years of disappearance, and his current act of stealing his own staff, were the most normal things in the world.

Even the purple-haired witch couldn’t help but feel that her surprise was completely unwarranted.

However, she still had to try very, very hard to maintain her composure and not stare at her master’s occasionally swaying fluffy tail.

“Since I will maintain this… status for a while,”

Her always esteemed master elegantly adjusted his posture with his paw pads. “Hilda, it’s already wonderful that you recognized me. But don’t tell the other students yet. I’ll come to see you all a little later. I currently have some matters I must attend to and cannot delay in the Mage Tower. However, if you happen to have time, you can help me concoct a few potions that allow animals to speak.”

While Roland didn’t have much emotional baggage, he still felt a bit embarrassed to face his former students in the form of a cat. Moreover, his students had a certain… excessive personal adoration for him. He had a premonition that the situation would become quite unmanageable.

“Alright,” Hilda said subconsciously.

She then nervously added:

“Do you have any tasks to complete, something we can help with? You’ve truly been gone for a very long time. Not just me, but the other students are also very worried about you. We’ve all been practicing our spells diligently all these years, so—”

As the black cat gently shook its head in refusal, footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Hilda’s voice also quietly died down. She thought for a moment and then asked:

“At least let us know where you are going now.”

“I must reach the Demon King.”

Roland in front of the screen and the black cat on the screen both spoke simultaneously, though to others, the black cat’s voice was merely a “meow.”

He said this as if it were the most normal thing in the world to immediately go to the side of the culprit rumored throughout the continent to have killed him. The witch even incredulously detected a hint of ill-timed exhilaration in her master’s voice.

Now, the footsteps were closing in on the door. The black cat probably saw the question in her eyes. It elegantly took another step towards the very edge of the window sill, its tail hooked around a staff longer than its body, and its amber pupils turned. They both knew it was time for the last words.

Usually, also the most crucial words.

Perhaps it was a desperate entrustment, like her master having a grand plan to eliminate evil, and before embarking on a perilous journey to fight the Demon King, there was something he needed to ask the continent’s top mages to do.

The purple-haired witch Hilda held her breath, and even the python on her shoulder, recognizing the gravity of the situation, remained motionless.

Then, she heard her master say:

“Demon King Kriesmeier is the only companion I’ve ever recognized in this life. I just haven’t had time to input his information into the defense system. If he comes to the Mage Tower again, you can invite him for a cup of tea.”

“Oh, so Master’s companion should indeed…”

The purple-haired witch suddenly stopped.

She vaguely thought, “Huh? Huh? What did I just agree to?”

She instantly tried many ways to avoid looking foolish, but the dignified and self-disciplined witch could only try to understand the sentence in a bewildered, desperate way, with countless questions welling up in her throat. Because it was too unexplainable, she couldn’t ask a single question for a moment.

At this point, the scattered footsteps stopped at the door.

The black cat’s round, amber pupils indicated that it was serious about the shocking statement it had just made.

Roland precisely judged the distance by the volume coming through his headphones. He controlled the character just long enough to finish speaking, then quickly jumped off the high tower. Under the effect of the slow-fall spell, the black cat was as light as a black raven. Of course, this was also thanks to the quality of the staff.

It wasn’t until he had concealed himself within the vast forest surrounding the Mage Tower that Roland finally had time to open the item interface for the staff “Nova”:

Nova: Archmage Roland’s once most beloved staff. After the crusade against the Demon King, it disappeared along with the mage. The staff is inlaid with a moon-rainbow stone, said to be a gift the mage received when he summoned the Moon Spirit to participate in a tea party back then.

• Attack Range: Unknown; Attack Power: Unknown (currently not performing at its maximum); Special Property: White Magic Enhancement.

This level of equipment should not have been obtainable by players. Roland cautiously glanced at the 999+ messages in the bottom left corner of the world chat. He remembered that before, the messages didn’t jump so quickly. However, he paused for a moment and still didn’t open the discussions from other players about the divine artifact’s appearance. He slowly blinked, feeling his eyelids heavy.

He pressed his phone and saw that it was already 2 AM.

The human body has its limits. Although Roland hadn’t broken any bones in the car accident, the scrapes and bruises all over his body had taken him days in the hospital to recover. He peered at the brilliance of his past world through a thin screen, having already pushed himself hard for a day, and now needed to close his eyes and rest for a while.

Fortunately, from his observation, the time flow in the game currently seemed to be no different from reality.

Then he would delay just a little longer…

Unsure of the situation after logging off, he controlled the black cat to hide in the dense leaves. The black cat’s fur was like a fine velvet satin, themed “night,” with only its two amber eyes faintly shining. Roland stared at the black cat for a moment before preparing to close the game page.

But just then, he suddenly noticed a flashing clock icon on the screen.

“Daily Playtime Reward.”

The explanation that appeared made its purpose easy to understand. Roland’s mind turned, and he decided to claim this benefit before logging off. If he could draw any materials, he might be able to use them to further enhance “Nova.”

Clicking the icon, a treasure chest made of brown leather and brass fittings appeared on the screen, practically screaming “I’m mysterious, open me.” Accompanied by a suddenly cheerful background music, the treasure chest swayed back and forth in front of Roland. Moving the mouse to the corresponding position turned the cursor into a key shape.

So, with a simple click—

The treasure chest opened with dazzling special effects, revealing only a piece of paper quietly resting at the bottom of the chest. Before Roland could even feel a hint of confusion, the paper unfolded itself, presenting its contents to Roland.

It looked somewhat familiar.

This piece of paper was named by the game system: “Observation Record of the Demon King – Fragment One.” It recorded some of Demon King Kriesmeier’s main characteristics. As it was Fragment One, it contained only the most basic information.

For example, the Demon King was skilled in close combat, with his scythe delivering fatal blows, but his single attack range was not large, so this characteristic could be exploited. Also, the Demon King had silver hair and golden eyes, and his broken horn was attributed to his decisive battle with the former Demon King, his father. The old injury made him very unstable under specific circumstances.

More than the content itself… Roland was more vexed by how many copies of the notes he had painstakingly written were circulating outside.

He stopped Browse the content; after all, the entire Demon King observation report was from the Archmage’s own hand. Roland couldn’t help but yawn, knowing his consciousness was slowly sinking into chaos. He glanced at the screen again. Under the pale silver moonlight, the shadows of the forest were particularly deep, and the spire of the Mage Tower could still be seen in the distance.

And the Demon King’s Castle was still far away.

He would have to spend more time to get back to Kriesmeier’s side.

Roland turned off the screen; the red light on the computer tower flickered, then was also pressed off by the young man. Roland dragged his tired feet to bed, set an alarm for 6:30 AM the next morning, and then plunged into sleep without hesitation.

What he didn’t know was that the moment he exited the game, the black cat, dozing precariously on the tall tree shadows, also transformed into countless data fragments, melting under the moon’s eye.

And in the very next second, the Abyss Demon race’s intensely aggressive aura suddenly swept through the entire forest. Demon King Kriesmeier, who had torn through space, walked to the tree where the black cat had perched, and suddenly raised his eyes.

Yet there was nothing.

The Demon King’s dark golden pupils only reflected the moonlight. The moonlight, like his hair, was silver-white, but Kriesmeier’s silver hair was closer to the texture of a cold weapon, giving no impression of softness, cold and chilling. He stood silently for a while; there were no traces here, nor any signs of traces having been left.

Even he couldn’t explain what was worth paying attention to.

The Demon King finally lifted his scythe. The scythe made no sound as it cut through the soft forest ground. He walked slowly, and his path strangely overlapped with the path the black cat had taken when escaping moments ago.

He once again headed towards the Mage Tower, which revealed a small spire in the distance.