"You're telling me this is an opportunity? Anyone can see the victory is practically guaranteed! And it’s not even through illegal means — it’s a prize provided by the Council. Is there any reason not to do it?"
"Beatrice, this isn’t something you can dismiss so easily. Even if a pseudonym can be used during the match, the application itself can only be filed under a real name. The Council will immediately know Leonardo Blaine has entered, and there’s no way they’ll leave him alone."
"It’s not like the Council hasn’t been chasing him for a day or two already. He just needs to take the prize and disappear — what’s there to worry about?"
"Are you idiots? If he wins there, you think only the Council will latch onto him? All sorts of institutions come to scout the matches. It’ll just multiply the hangers-on. There was even a tail on the train not long ago. What do you think happens if he enters the league in this situation? I’m against it — absolutely against it."
"Even so, it’s too wasteful to just throw away this chance. It’s the Cardo Raw Stone. A pure crystal of expansion force without even a single gram of impurity."
With his arms folded and his back resting against a pillar, Leonardo looked up at the view revealed beneath the brim of his hat. His gaze landed on the clock tower standing at the center of the busy district.
It had just passed 7:30 p.m. here, but in the capital it was 6 p.m. The league registration deadline would arrive soon. In front of the already constructed preliminary arena, more people had gathered than expected. A street market selling food beneath pitched tents and various peddlers filled the square.
The savory scent of oil brushing past his nose, the laughter of passersby, and the market lights illuminating the dimming dusk. It was noisy and romantic, but none of it entered Leonardo’s eyes.
In his mind drifted only the heated debate among the Libertas partners. The clearest voice belonged to Mikhail, who had been raising his voice unlike usual.
"You might live your whole life and only see something like that once. And even though it’s single-use, when it explodes it remains only as intangible tension and vanishes into the air. In a way, isn’t it even more certain in power than etaide, which needs Kuamer’s magic stone just to erase traces?"
Mikhail insisted they had to obtain the Cardo Raw Stone, one of the league’s grand prizes. In academic circles the stone was also called the Exacore, a magic stone formed from a special energy crystal that could only be harvested at the epicenter of seismic zones where tectonic plates interlocked.
During earthquakes, the rupture energy of rock released at crustal faults or convergent boundaries was accumulated inside a thin, durable frame formed by magic. Repeating this process over an immense span of time created the magic stone. Because it required the power of nature and enormous patience, its price went without saying, and its rarity was unmatched.
"It’ll soon be six months since the noble faction operation. All this time we’ve gathered minor information, secured funds, and procured weapons, but nothing has progressed on the surface. Even killing a few imperial faction lackeys didn’t make the papers, and we couldn’t even approach the people holding the most important information. We still have time, but at this rate we’ll just waste it. This isn’t the time to watch the Council’s mood — it’s time to move boldly and stake everything."
At Mikhail’s words that forced them to face reality, the residence had fallen silent for a moment. He was normally straightforward and gentle, so seeing him set the mood and seriously argue his point felt both unfamiliar and desperate.
"We were lucky and eliminated the target during the noble faction operation, but a gate layered with preservation magic and a magic-crystal barrier will be far stronger. We need a decisive blow that turns uncertainty into certainty. The Cardo core is that answer. Right, Mirail?"
Mikhail looked toward his sister Mirail, who resembled him perfectly. She had been watching the fluttering butterfly perched on her fingertips, and without moving her gaze she replied dryly.
"Yes. You’re right too. But it’s not an easy decision."
"Hey, hey. You all seem to be misunderstanding something. The league isn’t child’s play. The preliminaries might be easy, but after the round of sixteen it gets brutal. No matter how strong Leo is, how can you be sure he’ll win? If luck turns bad, he could be eliminated. Last year’s champion was an A-rank who beat an S-rank mage."
It was Gillian who poured cold water over the overheated atmosphere. He had already downed three bottles of wine and was pleasantly drunk, yet he always struck the weak point with a single remark.
However, the partners looked at him as if hearing a drunk’s nonsense. Soon they asked in unison, incredulous.
"If not Leo, then who wins?"
At the simultaneous counterquestion Gillian failed to answer. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly and only gulped down the wine straight from the bottle. Around then Judy, who had been fidgeting with her fingers, glanced around cautiously. Finally she moved her gaze forward and muttered softly.
"But what about Leo’s opinion...? He might not want to do it."
The core of the debate, carefully brought up, once again led to silence. Then everyone’s eyes turned toward Leonardo, the final decision-maker. He, who had not spoken a single time, met the pairs of eyes directed at him.
Each partner’s gaze held different opinions, yet all were tangled with deep conflict, anguish, and earnestness.
Leonardo maintained a blank expression but could not answer easily. They would follow whatever he said, yet a leader always bore responsibility for the decision. If he abandoned the Exacore, he would have to find another path for the future.
At that moment Tergio, who had firmly opposed it, softened his expression and asked.
"Prince, what do you want to do?"
Finishing his recollection, Leonardo pushed himself off the pillar and stood upright. After taking a deep breath, he stared at the clock tower hands now pointing to forty-five minutes.
Fifteen minutes until registration closed. It was time to finally conclude the dilemma he had postponed.
He glanced toward the Council’s temporary tent where registrations were being completed, halfway around the massive pillar.
An hour ago the place had been crowded with applicants, but as the deadline neared the stream of people had abruptly stopped. The atmosphere suggested they might pack up and withdraw early, making him anxious. Clicking his tongue, Leonardo had no choice but to muster courage and step forward. At the same time he pressed his hat down and pulled the loose turtleneck up over his nose with one hand.
Is this really the right thing to do?
For someone who lived by hiding his appearance, voluntarily offering himself before everyone felt deeply contradictory.
Even if I can participate with my face covered, someone might infer who I am from the type or form of magic. What if that happens? Do I run away? ...No, damn it, why would I run? I was properly acquitted and I’m participating legitimately.
With every step toward the tent, countless thoughts tangled together. If he didn’t participate, he could escape this complexity — he almost wanted to turn away and ignore everything.
No... I’m someone who has to conceal his movements anyway. Nothing good comes from attention. I already lost the tail on the train — what if that tail multiplies into dozens? Could I handle it? The others at the residence would be in danger, the kids would get involved, and I’ve only just been forgotten by the public....
At that moment Leonardo’s steps halted.
Forgotten?
The single word felt unfamiliar. No — he repeated it so many times it felt unfamiliar. He kept rolling its dictionary meaning on the tip of his tongue.
A life where no one remembered him, vanishing quietly into the back pages of history. Days spent curled up alone, head lowered, screaming in indifference until exhausted.
Is that what I wanted?
Suddenly Leonardo vaguely recalled himself shouting like a madman in the legion commander’s private room, and Agrizendro tightly embracing him. Regardless of the cause, what would have happened if that man had not reached toward him as he tried to fall into darkness?
What if he had remained alone with no one beside him, forever swallowed by the calls of the dead and loneliness?
Apart from the prize that had been the focus of the Libertas debate, Leonardo agonized over the fundamental issue. Once more, the Tergio in his memory asked him.
What do you want to do?
At the next moment, a white uniform approached him.
"Are you here to apply?"
His golden eyes, which had been lowered, rolled upward. One of the Council members who had been packing the tent was ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ looking at him and speaking. Leonardo answered reflexively.
"...Yes."
"You came just before the deadline. Please come this way, fill out the application, and show your identification."
Accustomed from doing it for days, the member guided Leonardo naturally.
Realizing he was already standing before the tent, Leonardo stiffly looked inside.
Five or six Council members had stopped packing and were staring at him. The member who first spoke took several sheets of paper from a closed box and placed them on the table.
Leonardo blankly watched the scene, then walked forward as if entranced. Behind the outline sheet summarizing the league schedule and format, various consent forms were stacked on the table.
Before he knew it, a pen was already in his hand.
