Clinton Rothschild.
He belonged to the Exilion Empire, and among all living humans, he was praised as the strongest mage—
a supreme magician who had reached the 7th Circle, the rank of <Impera>.
He was the symbol of Imperial magic itself, and the world called him the greatest mage of the current era.
His magical achievements and the depth of his scholarship were immeasurable; some even said that because of him, human magic had taken “one step forward.”
That phrase, “one step forward,” might sound like empty decoration.
But magic, to mankind, was a treasury of knowledge accumulated over the entire span of human history.
To say that a single person advanced that legacy was a compliment more glorious to a mage than anything else.
His life.
The road he walked.
The things he accomplished.
All of it spoke for how extraordinary Clinton was.
The weight carried by the name Clinton Rothschild was that immense.
Even Lexuror-rank mages had to mind their reputation and their place in society.
But Clinton, an Impera, was past even that.
He was a subject of the Empire, yes—yet he did not belong to it.
If he wished to wander, he could wander anywhere.
No restrictions applied to him.
So encountering him in the Yuta Kingdom was not particularly strange.
And yet, while not strange, meeting him at this timing was undeniably coincidental.
How vast was the Yuta Kingdom?
And this wasn’t even the capital, but a forest near a neighboring city—
what were the chances of running into him here?
“Ah. Don’t look at me like that. If you ask it that way, it sounds as if I followed you around,”
Clinton said as he waved a hand, having read the nuance behind Ludger’s question.
Ludger stared at him for a moment, then let out a faint smile.
“Well, I don’t think you came chasing after me on purpose.”
“Hoho. You trust me?”
“Of course. If I actually set my mind to moving around, you would never be able to find me, Clinton.”
At that, Clinton’s eyes rounded before he burst into hearty laughter.
“Hohoho! Goodness. To hear something like that at my age...”
As Clinton flicked a finger, a conifer in the forest instantly disassembled where it stood.
The shredded pieces of wood were cut into perfectly uniform sizes and stacked neatly beside him like bricks.
Clinton picked up one piece and tossed it into the campfire.
“What’s even more ridiculous is that I can’t bring myself to deny what you just said.”
The magic he’d shown was nothing {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} more than basic telekinesis.
But when a 7th-Circle mage used telekinesis, the story changed.
A tree several meters tall had been filleted like a fish bone in an instant.
Anyone watching would have been horrified—
it was a technique bordering on divine.
Yet neither Clinton, who had performed it, nor Ludger, who watched, reacted in the slightest.
As though such a thing was perfectly normal.
“Well, meeting you like this truly was coincidence. I’m only in the Yuta Kingdom on personal business—of course, wandering alone without making it public.”
A mage like Clinton never needed to be inspected at borders.
Where he went became the road itself; no one could hinder him.
But he disliked having attention drawn to him, so he simply traveled quietly.
“I heard the news. You’re finally free, aren’t you? Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Come to think of it, this is the first time we’ve had such a proper conversation.”
Clinton chuckled softly.
There had never been anything one could call interaction between Ludger and him.
The closest they’d ever come to being alone together had been on the Day of the Demon King’s Return—
what a time that had been.
“When I think back on it, meeting you then— I really thought I was going to die.”
“...I apologize.”
Back then, Ludger had been consumed with fury due to everything concerning Grander.
Had Clinton not withdrawn from the situation on his own, despite insisting the events were wrong,
he too might have ended up on the death list of that day.
A 7th-Circle mage, proclaimed humanity’s strongest, might have died there.
“No, I understand. I learned later that your relationship with her was... well, far from ordinary.”
Ludger silently nodded.
The 8th Circle—
a realm humanity believed fundamentally unreachable.
Grander, who had reached that height and carved her name into history,
was the idol of all mages.
And Ludger was her first and last disciple.
Of course, calling them merely “teacher and student” was far too simple,
but there was no reason to explain further.
“I came to you like this because, when I stopped by the Yuta Kingdom, I happened to sense your power.”
To be precise—Ludger had used magic while speaking with Yekaterina,
and Clinton had felt the ripple of that mana.
At the time, Clinton had been over 20 kilometers away, in the capital.
It had not even been a significant spell, yet Clinton sensed it from that distance and came.
Part of it was because Ludger’s mana signature was exceedingly unique.
But Clinton’s ability to detect it from so far away was remarkable in itself—
one could call him a human shark with a Lorenzini ampullae.
“You’ve achieved more than before,” Ludger said.
He had noticed that Clinton had changed.
Not as a person—
but as a mage.
Clinton smiled wryly, not denying it.
Though he had already been an Impera, now his 7th-Circle mastery was polished further, rising higher still.
But there was no pride in Clinton’s expression.
None at all.
He was the highest-ranked mage in human history, yet even after achieving further heights, his heart found no peace.
“Good grief. I shouldn’t show off in front of a chrysalis. Someone who reached the 8th Circle shouldn’t be commenting like this.”
Clinton was humble because he had realized something:
there existed someone above him.
The greatest mage in human history?
Yes—going strictly by public knowledge, that was true.
But Clinton knew the reality:
that his strength was insignificant when viewed on a world scale.
Even in magic, the one area where he had thought himself supreme—
that throne had long been taken by Ludger.
Ludger had used 8th-Circle magic three years ago.
Clinton had seen it with his own two eyes, in the middle of the Holy War.
After seeing something like that, how could he ever claim to be great?
“And even if I’ve achieved more than before, I am still a 7th-Circle mage. In fact, the higher I go, the more I can’t help becoming humble.”
Thump.
A new log tossed into the fire made the flames rise higher.
“Back then, I didn’t know. I thought that as one’s circle rose, one’s understanding of magic would rise with it, and eventually one would conquer it.”
“I understand. I once thought the same.”
Magic circles felt like levels in a game.
As one climbed, it felt like the path to the finish line shortened.
But the higher the circle, the more infinite the possibilities became.
A circle wasn’t a point heading toward a single destination—
it was a gateway leading into a world that branched into tens of thousands of paths.
Crossing one door only revealed how many more roads awaited.
And at the moment one saw that—
one realized:
One had not even begun.
The more you learn, the more you understand—
that you still know nothing.
What an irony.
Had you never glimpsed such a world, you might have remained blissfully ignorant.
But once you learn, you can never go back.
Clinton’s struggle was the aftereffect of a human mind stepping onto a higher plane.
Faced with too much—especially with higher-dimensional truths—
this collapse was inevitable.
After seeing a radiant sun, all lesser lights become dull.
Reality itself feels worthless.
Even the heart that once reacted to small things—
the humanity that allowed rich emotion—
begins to fade.
And that fading was, in effect, the death of one’s existence.
“...You’ve come to me for advice,” Ludger said.
He had realized exactly why Clinton had sought him out.
Clinton knew his condition better than anyone.
But he had no solution—so he had come for counsel.
He could have asked Grander—
but Grander had stepped through a dimensional door and gone to Earth.
Even if she were still on this continent, her capricious nature made it unclear whether she would offer any meaningful advice.
But Ludger was different.
He was human, and one who had reached a higher realm than Clinton—
a man who might know something.
That was why Clinton had come personally.
“You wandered the world for that reason as well.”
“Yes. Even something small would do—I wanted proof that the world I live in isn’t meaningless.”
The world Clinton saw now must appear achromatic—gray and hollow.
In his mind surged only the hunger for the next step in magic, the newly unveiled knowledge, the higher realms.
He was desperately suppressing it,
clinging to what little humanity he had left.
But how long could he endure?
It was like trying to hold onto a fraying thread in a raging current.
“You must have gone through the same thing as I did. No—worse. You saw the 8th Circle, and beyond that, a sensation close to omnipotence.”
Clinton remembered when Ludger had ruled as the Demon King.
When he opened the gates of heaven and borrowed divine knowledge and power.
Even from afar, the wave of that power had made even Clinton tremble.
He had tasted celestial nectar.
A human could never return to who they were after that.
And yet Ludger now showed no sign of collapse.
Clinton himself struggled to maintain humanity despite being far beneath Ludger’s realm—
so how had Ludger managed it?
“Clinton, you’re afraid of changing,” Ludger said.
“...Yes.”
Clinton answered honestly.
He was desperate enough to come to a man far younger than himself
and ask for guidance.
A lesser man might cling to pride—
after all, he had the right to.
But Clinton did not.
Ludger’s youth did not matter.
Clinton would have asked even a three-year-old child if that child held wisdom he needed.
That was the road he had walked.
Perhaps it was precisely because he had lived that way
that he had reached this realm as a human.
“The method is surprisingly simple,” Ludger said.
“Simple? What could it possibly be?”
“You accept the change.”
“...Accept it?”
Clinton had been terrified of change and resisted with all his might—
yet Ludger offered the opposite advice.
Clinton wondered if Ludger had misunderstood something,
but quickly realized he had not.
Everything in Ludger’s face and voice
was genuine.
“Of course it’s frightening. When you let go of the rope that supports you, the current might drag your identity anywhere. You fear being swept away until you become someone unrecognizable.”
Because with knowledge too vast,
everything else becomes trivial.
The current cannot be resisted.
“That is why you must simply—let go.”
The more he resisted the current, the more it tormented him.
He clung so desperately to the one small rope that it became the only thing he could see.
“At first, you’ll be overwhelmed.”
Once you release your grip, the current engulfs you.
Up and down blur.
Direction disappears.
Even your destination becomes unknown.
Fear of the unknown—
the primal emotion of all humans.
“But eventually, your body adapts to the flow. And as you ride it, you’ll see new landscapes.”
“And if it’s a landscape I don’t want?”
“That doesn’t matter. You’ll continue seeing new ones—and one of them may suit you. What matters is one thing.”
Ludger raised one finger.
“Even if you let go of the rope, even if the current sweeps you away, even if you end up somewhere you never wished to go—
you will still be Clinton Rothschild.”
