The Sewer Mage Tower

The Sewer Mage Tower.

That place was a tower. The only difference was that it rose downward, not up.

[There are many things beneath Guild City. Steam pipes, subways, labyrinthine underground waterways, large maintenance utility tunnels…….]

Solomon climbed down the emergency drainage ladder, heading straight below. The smell of sewage. It was different from the place he had gone before, back when he dealt with the Sewer Rat Tower’s creatures.

This rusted ladder was far longer, leading toward a much deeper bottom.

[But to the overly suspicious, the city’s underground invites thoughts of far more than that. Ancient ruins, writhing evils, beings hidden deep below as they wait for their moment…]

Thud!

How far had they come down? At last, Lord Bowery jumped off the end of the ladder. Solomon followed and set both feet on the floor. When he looked up at the ladder they had descended, a single ladder hung there alone along a sheer cliff.

‘…Feels like we came down a few hundred meters.’

When he turned around, it was an underground reservoir so vast it was almost majestic. Pillars that looked like pressure tanks stood grandly here and there, silent like ancient ruins.

“Welcome to ma home, Basilica Cistern!!”

There, Lord Bowery spread his arms and spoke. Basilica Cistern.

“It’s this place’s name, and the peak of the Sewer Mage Tower. A majestic, dignified, fucking awesome royal palace only the Tower Master can come to!”

“……”

Solomon thought, dumbfounded.

‘No, it’s just an underground water tank….’

The air was damp and thick with humidity. The sound of water droplets falling from who-knew-where echoed all around. Most of them fell from the ceiling, but some sounds came from beneath his feet.

Squeak squeak.

Just then, a few sewer rats squeaked as they approached his feet. Solomon stayed silent as he watched them.

“You know, I like talented mages.”

Lord Bowery spoke to him as he remained silent.

“And that’s—why I fucking hate the trash in the Sewer Mage Tower!”

“…What are you trying to say?”

“Like you saw, you’ve got talent for magic. No, not just ‘got’—I mean it’s fucking overflowing! Like, for real, the real deal!”

“……”

Overflowing talent. Saying that, Lord Bowery continued.

“So, how about becoming my disciple?”

“What?”

It was unexpected. Solomon asked back, flustered.

“You want me to become an underground mage?”

“That question you just asked is exactly the same as saying, ‘You want me to become an idiot mage?’ The thought of you being lumped in with those idiot morons, it tears my heart apart! Or what, are you interested in idiot mages?”

“…No. I said something moronic.”

“Oh, bro. Don’t worry about it. Everyone lives with idiotic crap coming out of their mouths.”

“Fair.”

The Sewer Mage Tower’s master continued, denying his own tower and its underground mages more than anyone.

“By the way, do you know why mages live?”

“Not sure.”

“It’s not that different from normal people. To leave proof that you lived.”

“……”

The reason one lives was to leave proof of your life. Solomon didn’t agree, but he didn’t deny it outright either.

Giving your life a ‘quest’ was ultimately your own business.

“Proof comes in all kinds of forms. Descendants, academic achievements, historical feats… for mages, it’s just magic.”

Whatever quest this man had assigned to his life, that was his own stance.

And Solomon himself was carrying out countless life-quests in order to pursue his goal of ‘survival.’

“When I was cursed by Undine—I was a high-ranking mage of the Five Great Houses.”

“Which house?”

“The Bale Family. The Shadow Binders.”

“……”

“I wasn’t direct line. But I was a collateral line strong enough to be counted among the next House Head candidates. And I did want it, too.”

Solomon swallowed without a word. But he didn’t show his agitation. He had half expected it.

“I see.”

“Aren’t you surprised?”

“Am I supposed to be?”

“The more I see, the more I fucking like you!”

Lord Bowery shrugged as if impressed.

“Anyway, when those old bastards of the damned Great House, the Ancient Council, exiled me down to the city’s bottom while watching her mood… they stripped me of my ‘proof of life’ completely.”

“Proof of life?”

“This. What’s inside here.”

Tap tap—Lord Bowery pointed at his closely shaved bald head.

“In the folds of my brain, there’s overflowing proof of my life as a Bale Family mage for centuries. Oh, it’s the culmination of shadow magic!”

“…Looks like it’s still in there, perfectly fine, not stolen.”

“Yeah, like some almost-dead widower stuffing money he’ll never use into Shylock Bank.”

“……”

“Do I look like, when I become a corpse rolling around, my cerebral cortex is gonna split off on its own and live just fine? Set up a mage tower and take disciples?”

Solomon didn’t answer right away. He let a beat pass, then asked back.

“Why me?”

“Because the bastards under me….”

Lord Bowery answered.

“They’re all!! nothing but moronic low-IQ bastards with not even a speck of talent!!”

Lord Bowery’s shout boomed through the hollow of the underground reservoir.

Even after he stopped, it became an endless echo that wouldn’t fade easily.

“They don’t even know the M in magic! The only M they know is mom… ah, they don’t even know that.”

“……”

“And then you show up! Goddamn it, how am I supposed to not lose my mind?”

“Like I said—I’m not a mage.”

Solomon replied carefully.

“I’ve never had formal training, and I can’t even read a grimoire. I just picked up a knack by luck.”

“A knack. Yeah, you could call it that.”

“Whatever you’re expecting, there’s no guarantee I’ll live up to it.”

“Hm….”

Lord Bowery shrugged, as if sinking into thought.

“A shadow mage with no formal training, using three Tier-1 spells and one Tier-2 spell ‘by knack.’”

“……”

“I saw you take down the three dark elf executors. You fucked them up beautifully.”

“Don’t tell me you peeked through the Black Bird Spirits’ eyes?”

At that, Solomon openly frowned.

“Was that why you gave me that bracelet from the start, to spy on me?”

Back then, he had cast <Veil of Darkness> with even the enhanced attunement of the Bale Family’s innate bloodline trait <Shadow Bloodline>. Seeing that, how much had this man, this Bale Family shadow mage, noticed?

‘Tch. No wonder my neck felt prickly.’

Solomon bit his lip without a word.

“Yeah, I’ll apologize for peeking. But don’t get the wrong idea. That bracelet doesn’t have some special spying function.”

“Then how did you do it?”

“Stealing someone else’s familiar and spying without getting caught? Oh, bro. What’s the point of explaining every way to eat cake? You just fucking eat it!”

Solomon bit his lip again, low. He blamed his own naivety to a bone-deep degree.

‘Goddamn it.’

There were countless eyes and ears in this city. He had underestimated what that really meant.

“Overflowing talent is a double-edged sword. In that sense, you’re lucky.”

“Why?”

“Because finding a good godfather is as hard as being born with good talent.”

“……”

[In the world of mages, master and disciple are called godfather and godchild.]

“I never said I’d accept.”

“Oh, right.”

Solomon continued.

“So this wasn’t a contract. You called me from the start for this conversation?”

“Oh, bro. How could that be? Like I said—this is my contract!”

Lord Bowery answered. His contract.

“It’s business for both of us. I ‘commission’ you to become my disciple, and as you know… no contract in the world gets fulfilled for free. I’ll pay the proper compensation.”

“Then what will you promise as the price?”

“As a shadow mage, everything. Even the last wisdom in the folds of my skull.”

Lord Bowery said.

“I’ll hand all of it over to you.”

“What are you doing all that for?”

“Didn’t I tell you? Proof of life.”

“……”

“Proof… only has meaning when it’s left behind.”

Proof of life. That was the quest he had assigned to his life. To leave proof that he lived.

“When I’m dead and rolling around in a sewer, what meaning would whatever I got carved into those rotting brain folds inside my skull have? None. There is none. Nothing at all. No meaning whatsoever. Nothing…”

Before long, Lord Bowery was shouting again, veins bulging in his neck.

“There’s no, meaning!! in it!! Nobody will remember!! Nothing gets left behind!! It’s just a dog’s death, a dog’s death!”

“……”

“It’s meaninglessness with no meaning, pointless bullshit itself! Me!! Even the fact that I lived doesn’t remain!! It just—just—all disappears! Into endless nothingness!! Truly, truly, with nothing at all—!! Like this goddamn fucking sewer bottom!!”

It went beyond mere shouting. Before long, it was something close to a frenzy. For the first time, he showed anxiety and rage that did not suit him at all, a whirlpool of emotions with nowhere to go.

And in the middle of it, Solomon could see it.

At his feet, at Lord Bowery’s feet, the shadow… writhing like a living creature.

It wasn’t an ordinary shadow.

Like a creature of the open sea casting its shadow as it swam beneath an endless ocean, like a whale of absurd size thrashing in struggle, the shadows across the area were raging in madness.

It was as if he held a sea made of shadows beneath his feet…

[Insight success! Shadow Sea]

‘Wait, why did Insight succeed here?’

At that point, Solomon had no choice but to understand the level Lord Bowery had reached as a shadow mage. And that an opportunity offered by a mage of that caliber was never common.

“I can’t answer right away.”

Even so, Solomon answered in front of Lord Bowery as he ranted and raved. Solomon wasn’t foolish enough to gulp down anything just because it was offered.

“Oh, that’s how it should be! A real man knows the ‘real time’!”

At those words, Lord Bowery turned to Solomon with a grin, as if none of it had happened, leaving the writhing sea of shadows beneath his feet behind.