The title “Mage” referred to those who studied, mastered, and manifested magic. Some hurled fireballs, some raised castles in the middle of wastelands, and others called lightning from clear skies.

Unlike exolaw wielders, mages didn’t violate the laws of nature outright. They simply distorted them on a smaller scale. Rather than tempering body and technique like warriors, they accumulated knowledge and honed wisdom, and perhaps for that very reason, most mages rarely left their workshop, which they considered their own domain.

Among them, the Mage Tower was something else entirely. It had gathered those fiercely individualistic mages into a single collective, instilling camaraderie, encouraging the sharing of research, and forming a vast network of peers.

Even so, mages always kept a few cards hidden. Seeking mystery was part of their very nature.

“Tch. More like they’re too scared to crawl out of their little rooms,” Adela sneered.

She wasn’t entirely wrong. Knowing that, Grania cleared his throat but said nothing more and turned away.

“In any case,” he explained, “there are all sorts of notions about mages. Artifacts are the most famous of them. Anything that ‘allows one to invoke magical power’ can be called an artifact.”

Leon asked, “Are they similar to Holy Weapons?”

“Not quite,” Grania replied. “To draw out a Holy Weapon’s true power, one needs faith, divine force, that sort of thing. Artifacts, on the other hand, don’t discriminate between users. Unless the maker built in specific conditions, anyone—from a commoner to a Master—can use them just the same.”

“Convenient,” Leon said.

“Mind if I cut in?” Adela interjected, sidling up beside them. “If you only listen to that old man, artifacts might sound superior to Holy Weapons. But artifacts have plenty of flaws of their own. Unlike Holy Weapons, which last indefinitely unless destroyed, artifacts are consumable. Their power wears down as the price for distorting natural law.”

Holy Weapons could remain perfectly intact for centuries, even millennia, if left alone. Artifacts, however, lost over half their power after mere centuries of disuse and deteriorated far faster with active use. Even legendary artifacts had mostly decayed or crumbled to dust, leaving few records behind.

Adela went on, “And while Holy Weapons never harm their wielders, artifacts don’t care about their users’ safety. They just discharge their stored magic indiscriminately, friend or foe. Honestly, it’s a brute tool.”

“Brute tool?! Artifacts are the pinnacle of wisdom!” Grania shouted in protest.

“Hah! Isn’t it true that hundreds of mages in your Tower lose hands and feet from explosion accidents? And more than half of those accidents are thanks to your precious artifacts?”

“T-that’s... not entirely false,” he admitted. “But the high-grade ones made by high-tier mages aren’t like that!”

He glanced anxiously toward Leon. Seeing the young man smiling awkwardly with no clear sign of disapproval, Grania sighed in relief. He had worried Leon might refuse the artifacts after hearing Adela’s criticisms. Having already incurred a life debt, Grania couldn’t bear to feel indebted without offering something in return.

“At this rate, my gratitude would be worthless,” he muttered, then brightened. “Enough talk. Better to show than explain.”

He turned to Leon, eyes gleaming.

“Bring your companions here. I’ll open up the collection of artifacts I’ve gathered over my lifetime.”

***

A short while later, the party gathered inside Grania’s hideout, looking around curiously. Karen, ever the sharp-eyed assassin, scanned the entire layout and frowned.

“There doesn’t seem to be anything here,” she grumbled.

“Of course not,” Grania said with a grin.

“A mage’s vault shouldn’t be that easy to find. High-ranking mages usually build their own private spaces that are safe from theft, even in death.”

He sighed softly as he looked between them. He noticed that Elahan, the Saintess, was missing, and he knew exactly why. Restoring the chaos Nekator had caused in Portroi was a vital duty, but more than that, artifacts were of little use to her.

“Come to think of it, the Saintess doesn’t need artifacts. They might actually conflict with Holy Weapons. Artifacts deteriorate several times faster when exposed to Holy Power.”

“Oh? Why is that?” Karen asked.

“Because Holy Power represents harmony. It seeks to correct distortion—to restore order,” Grania explained.

Lifting his staff, he began channeling mana. Even injured and weakened, the pressure rolling off him made Leon and Karen instinctively step back three paces and hold their breath.

“Open.”

The staff struck the air once. From that point, the space rippled, swirling into a vortex. Since this was indoors, there couldn’t have been wind. It was gravity itself, pulling the air into rotation, forming a whirlpool-like current. The others stood firm despite the drawing force, waiting for the spell to end.

Then, with a low vibration, the door appeared. Or rather, a hole, beyond which shimmered the neatly arranged vault of a mage.

“Come in,” Grania said as he stepped forward first.

Once everyone followed, the door shrank and vanished. Without Grania’s consent, no one could enter or leave this place. His earlier claim—that he could seal even Nekator with his life—hadn’t been a bluff.

Both Leon and Karen were quietly awed at the height of the eighth-tier Grand Mage. The magic of an Archmage far exceeded anything they’d imagined.

Leon thought, If not for Edgar’s betrayal, Nekator might never have left that place alive.

Grania continued walking until they reached the heart of the subspace. There, he grasped a floating orb and turned to face Leon’s party.

“To explain every artifact here would take months,” he said. “So, tell me what kind of functionality you need. I’ll find and give you the ones that fit.”

“Functionality?” Leon asked.

“Just about anything,” Grania replied. “Armor, weapons, accessories with auxiliary effects—you name it.”

The two of them hesitated for a moment. Leon and Karen couldn’t have been more different in their styles, both in the fundamentals of combat and in their tactical philosophies.

Leon overpowered foes head-on, breaking through by sheer force and orthodox skill. Karen, on the other hand, struck from the shadows, landing her decisive blows through unpredictable movements and unorthodox methods. Naturally, the kind of equipment they needed also differed greatly.

“Mr. Hero, I’ll go first,” Karen said, stepping forward, and Grania gave a slight nod, signaling her to continue.

“I’d like something with magic that erases air resistance, adjusts friction, creates illusions, and accelerates both living and non-living things. Do you have anything like that?”

“That is terrifying...” Grania muttered. “If an Assassin Master like you ever came after me, I doubt I’d sleep at night.”

Whether from genuine dread or admiration, the old mage shuddered, then raised his hand. The orb in his left palm began to glow.

At once, from somewhere within the vault, several artifacts were drawn to the light and flew toward him. One, two, three... and finally, a silver bracelet that clattered down onto the table.

“Try them on. You’ll probably grasp how they work on instinct, but if you have trouble, I can explain later.”

Perhaps it was his mage’s intuition, but even as he handed them over, he couldn’t help but look uneasy. It was understandable—an Assassin Master was, in many ways, the natural predator of a mage.

Even with a Grand Wizard’s perception, it would be difficult to track Karen if she truly decided to move in earnest. And now, she had artifacts that enhanced her already terrifying abilities.

Well, that’s not my problem, Grania thought.

He wasn’t about to become their enemy, and that was that. Besides, these people were no villains. The mages who opposed them would all be deserving of death. Reaching that conclusion, he felt no guilt in arming them.

With his conscience more at ease, Grania turned to Leon and asked, “Hero, what about you?”

“I would love some artifacts as well, but... do you think you could repair this shield?”

“A shield?” Grania narrowed his eyes at the unexpected request. “That’s... hm?”

His eyes widened when he recognized the Sun Shield. Its steel bore the mark of Jugend Steel, a material reserved only for the Kingdom of Jugend’s finest masterworks, enough to astonish even a Grand Mage.

Without a word, Grania accepted the shield and began probing it with several detection spells. Soon, he located the damage: fractured circuits where its energy flow had been severed.

He explained, “As I thought. More than half the runic circuits for the barrier system are destroyed. Must’ve blocked a pretty monstrous attack.”

“It was from Lord Dayton’s ultimate technique,” Leon said.

“From him... That makes sense,” Grania said with a bitter smile before moving on. “Give me three or four days. I can restore the circuits completely. The rest of the shield’s structure is sound. Anything else you need?”

“Could you recommend something yourself, Master Grania?”

“Me?”

“Yes. I’m a warrior by nature. I’d appreciate it if you could evaluate my strength from a mage’s perspective and supplement what I lack.”

Even though he was on the receiving end of repayment, Leon spoke with genuine humility. Grania was already willing to give him whatever he asked for, but his attitude made him consider pulling out what he had hidden away for a truly special occasion.

After listening to Leon carefully and mulling over what he could offer, the old man lifted his orb again. It flashed, and a cloak came flying toward them.

“Your combat ability is already near perfect,” he said. “Then, it’s best to enhance that power further. Changing your style now would only weaken your mastery.”

“What is this cloak...?”

“I’ll explain as you try it on. Go ahead.”

Leon obeyed, lifting the red cloak. Its fabric rippled as if alive, and when he brought it to his shoulders, it tied itself neatly at the collarbone, the hem fluttering along paths that wouldn’t hinder movement. When he channeled Aura into it, he felt a faint consciousness respond.

Startled, Leon looked up. Grania smiled knowingly.

“It’s a Salamander Cloak. It absorbs and stores light and heat. Once charged, it can unleash tremendous firepower. I even granted it a basic ego, so it should be able to defend you without you telling it to.”

“How much energy can it store?” Leon asked.

“I mixed in the blood of a Red Dragon. You should be able to fire that technique you used on Nekator two or three times in succession.”

At Grania’s words, Leon stared at the cloak in disbelief.

It can withstand multiple uses of Three Stars in Heaven’s Jar?

Even after mastering the Four Stars in Vast Heavens, performing the three sequences wasn’t an easy task. Each execution left him gasping, his stamina drained unless he used the Stigma of the Guardian to recover.

Such finishing moves were called “finishing” for that exact reason. If this cloak truly made that possible, then even an equal opponent could be overpowered in a single rush.

“There’s one more,” Grania said as he reached into his robe and drew out an amulet, its gem gleaming with an iridescent light, too deep to name.

Leon stiffened instinctively. His hand hovered near his sword, though he didn’t know why.

El-Cid murmured, —Hoh, Interesting. Now, that’s quite the item.

Before Leon could ask, Grania spoke again.

“This amulet contains three stored castings of an eighth-tier spell. Among all the artifacts I’ve ever crafted or kept, this is without question the finest.”

Even seventh-tier magic was classed as strategic magic, the kind that could wipe out hundreds or thousands in a single use, bending the laws of nature beyond comprehension. Then what of the eighth tier, magic that had transcended even that?

“Let me explain its function,” Grania said.

A legendary artifact—the kind whose very existence was often doubted—now rested in the palm of Leon’s hand.