Chapter 64: Knowledge Is Wealth (Requesting Recommendations and Favorites)

Not long after Borne left, the laboratory assistant, Vick, went to report to the Count.

“Teacher, Borne has already left!”

“Mm.”

In truth, the Count had sensed Borne’s arrival earlier. As a high arcanist on the verge of stepping into the legendary realm, Count Iollem’s very being was nearly transcending into that echelon as well.

Yet, he forcibly suppressed this series of changes. Merely becoming a legendary creature was not his aim—what he desired was to ascend as a legendary class.

A legendary arcanist!

At that moment, Vick produced an invitation and respectfully handed it to the Count.

The Count took it, his gaze sweeping briefly over the seal stamped upon it.

“The Shamsdin family?”

“Yes, Teacher,” Vick replied with deference. “It was delivered by the spined lizard of Patriarch Hussein.”

“Heh! That old fossil—after over a decade of noble life, he’s grown shrewd at last.” The Count chuckled softly. “It seems one’s environment truly can change a person. In the past, he’d have come running in a panic. Now he’s learned this sort of hollow courtesy.”

Setting the invitation aside, the Count told his assistant, “You’ll run an errand shortly. Let Borne know that in three days, he’ll accompany me to the Shamsdin family.”

“Yes, Teacher!”

Though the Count was often occupied with experiments, it was clear he was well aware of the academy’s affairs. In truth, the upper echelons of both the academy and the noble families of the royal city were all cognizant of the Arcanists’ Society. To their eyes, it was nothing more than a child’s squabble.

The matter was too trivial; after all, how could parents stoop to meddle in children’s affairs? Allowing events to run their course was a tacitly agreed-upon rule.

Yet what seemed like a farce was but a tiny reflection—the struggles outside were far more brutal.

At that moment, a mysterious magical ripple spread from the Mage’s Tower, sweeping across all of Sevenden.

Every advanced practitioner in the capital sensed it and turned their gaze toward the tower.

“Oh? The cleansing is about to begin, then.” The Count’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he cast a sidelong glance at Vick.

Vick, too, seemed to sense something, looking up in puzzlement.

The Count spoke, “Vick, how much of the mana has been purified?”

Vick paused, then replied respectfully, “Teacher, a tenth has already been purified.”

“Very good. From now on, meditate in the room adjacent to the laboratory—you’ll save a great deal of time there.”

Overjoyed, Vick exclaimed, “Yes, thank you, Teacher!”

The Count nodded and turned his attention back to the experiment before him.

Within the Naither Royal Palace—

Crack!

King Naither crushed the wine glass in his hand, violet liquid slowly streaming down his palm.

The magical ripple from the Mage’s Tower was a signal—and a warning.

He had allowed the cultists to spread their evil corruption throughout Naither, partly to suppress the nobility and eliminate dissent.

But ever since Old Naither’s assassination, the king had ceased to be the true master of Naither. He was now little more than a symbol.

If Naither were a corporation, the king would be the “general manager,” while the true chairman was now Giles Academy’s headmaster, Borne Conchenio.

Before Borne Conchenio, it had been the “Earth Prophet” Asindo, and before that, an enigmatic outsider named Thraciel held sway over Naitheriel.

(Asindo’s origins can be found in chapter 23, Golden Scroll of Five Powers. Thraciel is shrouded in mystery—some speculate he is a divine envoy from a higher plane. His true identity remains unknown. He first appeared teaching the Naitherians how to repel orcish invasions; without him, Naither might have perished early on.

The first two were manageable enough. Borne Conchenio has been a legend for over three centuries. Though he has seldom intervened in royal affairs, the king would never dare defy his word.)

Several successive kings had lived under the long shadow of Borne Conchenio.

Even though a dozen court mages loyal to the crown stood at his side—five of them high-level mages—the kingdom still felt no sense of security.

Ever since the first King Naither met his end by a poisoned dagger, every monarch since had lived in fear.

It was like a curse; each king would wake in terror from nightmares, and after years of such torment, most went mad before reaching their mid-forties.

The name “Naither” was inherited. In this generation, it was the twenty-first time.

He disliked being called Naither the Twenty-First; those close to him called him Harris.

Naither Harris.

Returning to the underground laboratory, Borne, too, glanced in the Mage’s Tower’s direction, as if sensing something.

[Arcane Sight]!

A pale blue light flickered in Borne’s eyes, and the chip in his mind issued a prompt.

“A warning? Or merely a notice?”

Borne was surprised by the chip’s analysis: it was a signal of ultra-high frequency magical elements.

This signal was beyond normal human perception, much like how humans cannot hear ultrasound, while bats can.

But after one’s life transcended, they could “hear” it. It was as if this message was sent specifically to advanced practitioners!

With the transmission of this signal, Borne sensed an air of grim resolve suffusing the atmosphere. The once-peaceful Sevenden seemed to have become a fearsome, bloodthirsty beast.

That night, the evil corruption that had plagued the Naitherians for over a month finally began to be purged.

It was a sleepless night, as fierce battles erupted throughout the capital, raging on until dawn.

The next morning, people awoke to find many streets and alleys battered and ruined, and in many places, scattered remains yet to be cleared away.

Lehman hurried over to inquire about the situation. The tumult last night had been immense; everyone had huddled in the warehouse, afraid to step out for fear of getting caught up and killed.

“It’s nothing to do with us. The higher-ups issued the order to cleanse Sevenden of evil corruption.” Borne gestured toward the Mage’s Tower, then asked, “Anyone from the guild hurt?”

“No, everyone’s safe,” Lehman replied.

“Good. We can all return to the guild today. By the way, how are things with the group of street children?”

“Some men the boss sent are helping to manage them. They’re getting along well, but…” Lehman hesitated, troubled.

“But what?”

“According to the boss’s plan, each man oversees several children. But now, the boss’s men have begun secretly teaching them to read and write. They claim this was your idea. Is that true?” Lehman asked, uncertain.

Borne laughed softly. “Yes, I told them to secretly teach the children to read.”

“Why?” Lehman was puzzled.

He had grown up that way himself and knew how hard it was for a homeless child to learn to read.

The nobility strictly controlled the spread of knowledge, believing it to be the most precious treasure.

Knowledge could be traded or bought, but never given freely.

The people dispatched by the steward were the same group who had studied with Borne in the countryside as children. Those chosen were loyal to the House of Iollem, and their families had served the Iollems for generations. Only their children were selected to study alongside Borne.

With an education, their futures would be brighter than those of their parents.

This was the rule everyone abided by. For Borne to teach them directly was to break it. Even Headmaster Conchenio, when founding the academy, admitted mostly nobles. Only the most exceptionally gifted commoners could hope to enter.

Lehman knew Borne had his own plans, but this act was nothing short of playing with fire.

…