Wasn’t This a Night Game

Something Beneath the Land (Revised)

Archmage Jurgen, after hearing Erpa’s past laid bare, judged her worthy.

Then, as all mages and witches before her, she underwent a stringent initiation, an assessment to see if she merited being a part of the Mage Tower.

The result? A monster, unprecedented.

Perfect scores across the board, and the magical research she submitted as her entrance essay, ‘A Study of Primary Colors,’ was deemed superior even to Tydell’s prior work on shadows. A paper truly deserving of praise.

Before many days had passed, Jurgen officially proclaimed Erpa a member of the Mage Tower.

And of course, as soon as this became known, Erpa found herself at the epicenter of attention.

“Erpa-nim. I have a question.”

“Did you truly experience a miracle? As a mage, what are your thoughts on miracles?”

“Were you truly an abomination? What happened to your left side?”

“Would it be alright if our company utilized your Primary Color research? This problem of magical optimization is a very important issue for us, as a car manufacturer…”

Was it the title, a witch healed by the Saint of Healing, that carried such weight?

Or was it her paper, so shockingly, revolutionary?

No sooner had the announcement of Erpa’s affiliation with the Mage Tower ended, than Erpa, surrounded by all manner of corporate figures, mages, and witches, was forced to endure an unending barrage of questions.

She answered each and every question with a smile,

composed.

“Ha ha! Who knew you were such a jovial one! Humble, yet overflowing with confidence! Truly splendid! Here! My card! I would very much like to be in contact!”

As Erpa’s pockets bulged with the countless cards exchanged,

Archmage Jorgen cautiously squeezed his way through the crowd.

“I have a small announcement to make. Might I have your attention for a moment?”

Tapping his wine glass with a teaspoon to draw eyes, Archmage Jorgen stepped forward with a smile.

“The witch Erpa standing here, in truth, ghostwrote the vast majority of witch Tüdel’s papers.”

Archmage Jorgen gazed at Erpa with a hint of pity.

“In principle, both the one who requested the ghostwriting and the one who obliged should be stripped of their right to research at the mage tower, banished even, but after conferring with professors from various towers, we concluded that Erpa’s particular circumstances could not be ignored. Thus, we are amending the name of the author of these papers.”

The Archmage waved his wand, and the papers published under Tüdel’s name floated into the air.

And the author field on each paper quietly changed from Tüdel to Erpa.

And Jorgen grinned.

“A young witch who has published such outstanding papers deserves to be called the next Archmage, I believe. She is virtuous, possesses the bravery to stand against injustice even at the risk of exposing her unfavorable appearance, and, moreover, holds an intelligence more than genius.”

It was a sudden announcement, but few were truly surprised.

Erpa had etched herself into everyone’s memory with her astonishing accomplishments.

“I will be stepping down soon. My body has aged, and my mind no longer works as swiftly as it once did. I’ve become a has-been, you see.”

He spoke with a hearty chuckle, like a jest, but everyone here knew.

Jorgen was an excessively powerful mage to be called a has-been.

He was one of the very few who had received the title of Grand Magus directly from the Emperor, after all.

“Of course, not immediately. After a set period of training, if it is judged that she’s become qualified, Erpha will take over my mantle and lead the Magic Tower. So, should I one day disappear and no longer be seen, I hope none of you will be startled! Now! A toast to the glorious future of the Great Witch!”

Örgen raises his wine glass, shouting the words aloud.

All the gathered people burst into laughter, raising their own wine glasses in unison.

“For Witch Erpha!”

“For her!”

Cheers.

Applause.

Gazes of envy and respect directed her way.

Things Erpha had dreamed of, longed for.

But now, all those things had become meaningless.

‘Lord Amael.’

Erpha thinks the name of one person within.

All of it is thanks to that Saint.

Her life too.

All this glory too.

Everything is thanks to that man’s grace.

Now, her career, all her efforts, her glory, are for Amael.

Thinking that, Erpha raised her glass.

“For her!!”

Amidst the laughter and applause, Erpha was thus acknowledged as the next Master of the Magic Tower.

It was a moment of radiant glory, but for some, a scene of blood-weeping envy.

“Come.”

After the magic tower’s own investigation concluded, Tüdel was expelled from the tower for attempting illegal human experimentation.

And then, without a moment’s respite, she was handed straight over to the White Order.

Dragged to the White Order, she was slated for yet another investigation, this time accused of indirectly murdering a non-Abomination by slander.

And so, being hauled away by the White Order’s priests and paladins, she witnessed Erpa being recognized, before everyone, as the next Archmage.

Tüdel clenched her teeth so hard her lip split and bled.

Jealousy.

A maddening jealousy that threatened to consume her.

Erpa.

That b*tch’s place was meant to be hers.

But that freak.

That spider-woman, a monster with four extra arms, had stolen her place.

Unbearable.

Unacceptable.

“Come on! Walk! Heretic!!”

Dragged from the magic tower to the White Order’s interrogation room, she still hadn’t stopped grinding her teeth.

Then.

A chilling smile spread across Tüdel’s lips.

Not yet.

It isn’t over yet.

There was still a way to ruin Erpa.

“Erpa is an Abomination, I tell you.”

Tyudel spoke so abruptly, the White Order priest preparing for the interrogation scoffed.

“Don’t talk such nonsense. If she were an Abomination, she wouldn’t have endured the Saint’s healing.”

“No. She *is* an Abomination. She has to be. Because the Saint isn’t a *real* Saint, he’s a fake. Don’t you get it? They’re in cahoots. Erpa and the Saint who healed her.”

Tyudel remembered the details he’d read in the news. Perfectly.

“The Saint never once used divine power to heal people. Does that make sense? A Saint who can’t use divine power? He’s a worshipper of dark gods. He’s plotting with Erpa.”

The White Order priest frowned.

“Do you have proof?”

“What better proof is there than his inability to use divine power? Summon the Silent Order. Mobilize them to arrest the Saint of Healing and subject him to a proper Inquisition. Then you’ll see I’m right. The Saint of Healing is a heretic. He *must* be.”

Tyudel said that, then straightened his back and let out a laugh bordering on madness.

“I wasn’t trying to indirectly murder someone who *isn’t* an Abomination. Just you wait. The Saint is a fake, and that Erpa b*tch? She *is* an Abomination.”

*

Large trucks and various pieces of heavy equipment entered the cleanly emptied factory site one after another.

“Remember! It’s a massive high-rise! The foundation must be solid! Start digging!!”

Jonathan Karma, with an air of practiced ease, oversaw the construction workers, continuing the construction of the high-rise building.

And most of the people who volunteered to work beneath it were the destitute from the slums.

“Here! Take your wages for the day! It is the will of the Goddess of Grace! One Saled for a day’s work!”

And the Order of Lilia was bleeding resources dry, hiring and employing them all.

I watched the whole spectacle with a satisfied eye.

The money spent each day must be astronomical.

My orders are even footing the bill for those Sun Order paladins.

And I entrusted a massive fund to Jonathan Karma, that failed factory owner.

They’re scattering absurdly high wages to the poor, even providing meals, so the money must be dissolving at an unbelievable rate.

Even if High Priest Yodel wears that pious, faithful face now, when time passes and the money’s evaporated into the millions, and it comes to light that the factory land is just worthless trash, he’ll be horrified by the Order’s losses and flee.

My plan was steadily coming to fruition.

I set up a shabby clinic near the construction site and treated the steady stream of the poor, praying that the Grace Order priests would leave sooner rather than later.

“Saintess.”

Had I been healing all day again?

Jonathan Karma cautiously approached and spoke to me.

“While digging for the foundation, we ran into a massive boulder that’s delaying the work. The stone is too hard to break with the excavators we’re currently using.”

My ears perked up.

“Then what must we do?”

“We need to rent more expensive, high-end equipment. To do that… it seems like it will cost quite a lot.”

“Proceed.”

The heavens are helping me!

The heavens are helping!!

Spend a lot of money!

Spend it freely!

“That way, when they realize later I was just shoveling air, people won’t just leave, they’ll leave cursing me out!!”

“Yodel, could you please procure the high-end equipment Jonathan is requesting right this instant…”

“Saintess!”

Ah, fuck.

Fuck!

Fuck, no!!

Dawan Witch! Is that you again?

“Witch! Perfect timing!”

Of course, like always, before I could even try to stop her, the Witch heard Jonathan’s explanation and, smiling, took out her wand.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of it!”

Troll!!

There’s no troll like this troll!!

Stop ruining my plans and just fuck off!!

Do you even know how much money I’ve saved because of this?

Please, just stop it!!

… All of that shouting was just inside my head, of course.

What nerve did I have to yell at a super-grade nuclear bomb that could vaporize the whole empire?

I could only watch as the Witch approached the construction site, wand in hand.

“Huh? An Absorbstone? How’s an Absorbstone so big?”

I briefly heard the Witch’s surprised voice, and then, the next moment…

The earth trembles, as if struck by some quake.

Turning my head, I see the witch, wand in hand, struggling to pry loose a black stone mass embedded deep in the heart of the construction site.

“It absorbs mana, making it hard to pull out with magic alone! I need a little help! We need to combine our strength!”

“Understood!”

The slum laborers, mid-work, rush as one, grabbing hold of the massive stone, and starting to strain.

“Alright! Give it your all! One, two!”

With a groaning crack, the colossal black stone is wrenched skyward.

Irritating.

Just looking at the size of it, so disgustingly solid and heavy, if I’d had them haul it out with equipment, it would have cost them so much more.

Still, gotta find some comfort.

Building a high-rise on this trash heap of useless land is already an unbelievable waste of money.

If things keep going this way, the Lilia Order will surely go bankrupt…

“Something’s bursting out from underground! Witch-sama!!”

*Poof!* A refreshing sound, followed by the gurgling rush of something pouring out.

Turning my gaze back, I see the workers retreating in panic.

Water, a shimmering azure blue, was spewing endlessly from the earth where the giant stone had just been pulled.

The witch, wand in hand, slowly approaches the water, a look of astonishment on her face.

After cautiously touching the blue water, the witch of Dawan lets out a cry of alarm.

“Elixir… It’s an elixir spring!”

El…what was that now?

“Elixir, you say?

No, why the hell’s it coming from there?

Seriously, why is that even coming from there?!