Chapter 578: Gradual Collapse

Phyllis slowly rose to her feet.

Her waist-length hair lifted on its own without any wind, like dense seaweed drifting in the deep ocean. The entire room felt as if it had sunk under the sea—vast magic rolling and churning, cold and suffocating.

The walls, the door, the windows, the floor, even the ceiling—everything began to twist into bizarre shapes. Different shades bled into each other like some drunk vagrant painter slashing a brush across canvas, turning the whole space into an abstract oil painting.

No spell had even been chanted yet.

This was merely the terrifying pressure of a Truth-tier Archmage.

From Radiant to Truth wasn’t like a martial artist ascending into a Crowned One—there was no complete rebirth, no leap in life’s very level. But even so, the gap between them was still a vast chasm. That was why, from the day the Royal Mage Corps was founded, there had always been a hard requirement for the commander’s realm.

Because only someone who had climbed magic’s path all the way to its peak—a Truth-tier—could keep those proud, arrogant elite mages in line.

And now—

this was a Truth-tier in furious wrath, after being betrayed.

Becky, still only an elite mage, had absolutely no chance of facing her head-on.

“Any last words?” Phyllis asked softly. “With your personality... even if you fail, you wouldn’t allow yourself to be taken alive by me, would you?”

“Last words?”

Under that horrifying pressure, Becky’s face went slightly pale, but he didn’t look panicked. He smiled instead.

“How about... take care of my cat? If I die, my cat still needs someone to look after it.”

“You still like cats that much.”

Phyllis sighed. “Fine. I’ll raise it for you.”

“Thank you.” Becky lowered his eyes.

“No need.”

The surging magic abruptly calmed.

But it wasn’t because Phyllis held back.

It was because that violent power, under her control—so precise it didn’t tremble by even a hair—began sketching the outline of a devastating spell.

In a single instant—

a flood of destruction flowed through this not-so-spacious room, like a river of death drawn from the netherworld.

Rainbow light painted Becky’s face in shifting colors. He watched as that radiance advanced, step by step, to swallow him whole, and he understood—

this really was the commander’s mercy.

Even now, she had chosen a spell that would not leave him even the slightest pain.

But...

“I think... I’ll pass.”

Just before the rainbow light could fully consume him, it suddenly froze.

Then, like a bubble in sunlight, it vanished in the blink of an eye.

“My cat... I won’t be leaving it to you,” Becky said quietly. “Because I know. The one you’ve always liked... is dogs.”

Phyllis staggered a few steps. Then she dropped back into her chair, limp and powerless. The immense magic dispersed. The room returned to clarity. In an instant, she fell from a lofty archmage back into a noblewoman who couldn’t even bind a chicken.

“This... how is this possible?”

Phyllis stared at her hands, trembling slightly—hands that couldn’t gather even a thread of strength.

“That medicinal tea just now... I should’ve isolated it with magic.”

“You did isolate it with magic. But I didn’t tamper with the tea, so of course that was useless.”

“You—”

“Heh. Poisoning tea is too cliché.” Becky chuckled. “Even in a story, if that actually worked, readers would call it stupid.”

Still smiling, he lowered his head and looked at what he was holding.

“This is where I really tampered with things.”

“...The documents?” Phyllis’s pupils shrank.

“Yes. Documents. The files you handle every day—don’t they pass through my hands too? That’s the best place to do it.”

Becky said calmly, “Of course, so you wouldn’t notice, the poison you touched each day was extremely weak. It just accumulated—day after day—until it suddenly erupted now. Enough to leave you unable to move freely for at least an hour.”

“Accumulated over time... so you planned this long ago?”

“Just some preparations.”

Becky’s expression softened slightly.

“If the situation hadn’t reached this point, the poison would never have triggered, and it wouldn’t have harmed your body at all. Honestly... how could I ever truly hurt you?”

“Disgusting.”

Clink.

With a crisp sound, the jade bracelet on Phyllis’s wrist shattered. The spell already engraved into it activated at once, turning into a halo of magic that wrapped around her protectively.

Seeing that, Becky gave a bitter smile and shook his head.

“Why bother? I’m not going to do anything to you. I just want you to stay here obediently.”

He bent down and, with practiced familiarity, pulled a delicate object from the small compartment to Phyllis’s left.

Its patterns were intricate and profound—beautifully crafted—but it looked as if it had been broken, only half remaining, like a shattered crescent moon.

Golden magic drifted across its surface.

In the entire Royal Mage Corps, only two people had the right to hold it.

And he was one of them.

Phyllis didn’t stop him—couldn’t stop him.

“So your goal really was this.” Her face turned ice-cold.

“Of course. The central magitech device that controls the palace’s interdiction forbidden spell.”

Becky lifted the half-moon device and spoke as he walked.

“It’s precisely because of this that you can use magic inside this room. But if the palace stays covered by the interdiction forbidden spell, then what—are we supposed to do nothing at all?”

He continued, “So the prerequisite for everything is shutting down the palace’s forbidden spell.”

“Don’t forget—what the Royal Mage Corps holds is only half,” Phyllis gritted out. “We can’t fully control the palace interdiction. Even if you take it, it’s useless.”

“I know.”

Becky headed for the exit, then paused and glanced back, giving Phyllis one last smile.

“The other half is in the bell-ringer’s hands.”

“But since I’ve already moved...”

His smile didn’t change.

“...then naturally, someone will be dealing with that bell-ringer.”

...

...

Dong—

The bell rang out, loud and clear, announcing ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) midnight’s complete arrival.

In the palace’s northwest corner, the bell tower stood tall. In that instant, every hand on the great clock pointed precisely to the top.

Dong—

A hulking, slovenly man with a messy beard shoved a gigantic metal striker—so huge it was like a three-story building—sending the bell’s sound rolling across the entire palace, and even the whole upper district.

Twelve rings in total.

When the roaring shockwaves finally faded, the man braced the still-swaying striker with a sharp shake of both arms, restoring everything to stillness.

He did it with effortless familiarity, like he’d performed the same task countless times.

And the weathered eyes hidden beneath thick brows suggested he wasn’t nearly as young as his powerful frame made him look.

Even so, after pushing something that massive, he only had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Hah... I’m getting old. Back in the day, I wouldn’t even sweat at all.”

The bell-ringer shook his head, clearly dissatisfied with himself.

But time couldn’t flow backward, and people didn’t grow younger in reverse. He’d stayed here for nearly a hundred years. Of course he was nearing rot.

“Still... even if I’m rotting, I’m not someone just anybody can push around.”

The bell-ringer turned toward the darkness behind him.

The bell tower was tall and empty, and for years it had been guarded by the bell-ringer alone.

But now—

he sensed a second presence.

Tap. Tap.

Bare feet on old wooden boards.

The bell-ringer’s eyes narrowed, and he saw the intruder—

a little girl?

Her long hair hung loose, only half of her pale face visible. Her small body was swallowed by an oversized white robe. She walked unsteadily, swaying like she was injured, stirring pity almost by instinct.

“The world outside changes fast.”

The bell-ringer sneered, then shook his head.

“Already at the stage where you’ve gotta push a little girl out to fight for you, huh?”

“Though... no, that’s not right. The bell tower below is guarded by knights, and the tower’s got its own mechanisms. If you made it up here, you’re probably not some ordinary little girl who got separated from her mommy.”

The girl didn’t answer. She just kept coming—step by step—slowly closing the distance.

“But—no matter how strong you are, coming to me is meaningless!”

With a furious roar, the bell-ringer’s vest exploded apart, exposing muscles like poured steel.

“This is the bell tower—one of the cores of the palace interdiction forbidden spell! In here, all mystery, mana, and battle qi can’t be used! So as long as you’re inside this bell tower, my muscles—trained for years, pure, with no impurities—are invincible!”

He flexed like a bodybuilder, brimming with confidence.

And then—

a massive shadow swallowed him.

His smile froze. He slowly lifted his head.

The little girl’s figure had suddenly become impossibly huge.

Slender limbs split apart, held together only by thread-thin connections. And from the gaps in that flesh, countless scaly, monstrous bodies surged out—hideous and armored—like the tentacles of some legendary sea beast, writhing madly in front of the bell-ringer, who now looked painfully small.

“...Damn.”

Staring at those beast limbs—dozens of times thicker than his arms—the bell-ringer cursed blankly:

“Kids these days... are they all this twisted?”

...

...

“Marquis Angus, Your Excellency?”

Count Bugald entered the Imperial Privy Council hall and found he wasn’t the first one there. He looked surprised.

“Why are you here?”

“Hmm?”

Marquis Angus, already present, frowned slightly.

“Count Bugald? You also received Marquis Mors’s invitation?”

“You too...?”

“Correct.”

Marquis Angus nodded.

“Marquis Mors sent word that there was an important matter to discuss privately, and told me to wait for him here in the Privy Council hall.”

“...I received the same message. ‘Wait alone.’ But...”

The two stared at each other, seeing the same uncertain alarm in the other’s eyes.

Before they could discuss further, someone else stepped in—then stopped short when they saw the two of them.

“Marquis Angus, Count Bugald... you’re here too...?”

“You—”

Not long after, several more familiar faces filed into the hall.

Bugald turned his head and realized that nearly all of the Empire’s most powerful ministers were here...

except the one who had invited them.

Marquis Mors.

“What does this mean? Does Marquis Mors have ill intentions?”

“If he had ill intentions, he’d lure us somewhere more hidden. This is the palace—what could he even do here?”

“Is His Excellency playing some kind of joke?”

“No. Marquis Mors has always been rigid. Earlier, Oranriel nearly angered him into coughing blood. He doesn’t seem like the type to joke.”

After a round of discussion, no one could figure out what Marquis Mors was trying to do.

After all, for imperial ministers, privately inviting each other to discuss administrative matters was perfectly normal.

And the location was the safest place in all of Berland—the palace itself.

It was hard to feel truly suspicious.

“Right. This is the palace. If he gathered us here... what is he trying to do?”

Angus tapped his knee out of habit, his gaze drifting toward the window.

The palace night looked as calm as ever. But as the weather warmed, small insects were already being drawn to the lights, fluttering toward the flame.

Angus casually flicked a finger.

A thin streak of magic shot out and crushed the annoying insect outside the window.

He continued thinking.

But before his hand could withdraw, it froze in midair.

Angus lowered his eyes in disbelief, staring at the pitiful insect—now shattered into dust—drifting down unsteadily on the wind.

Wait.

This was the palace...

So why could he use magic?

Unless—

“No!”

Angus’s expression changed violently. He shot to his feet.

“Leave—now! We can’t all stay here!”