Magician in Type-Moon

Page 648

"By adding unnecessary colors to 'zero' and 'root,' we end up obscuring their precious meaning."

He carefully considered his words, finally squinting his eyes as if looking directly at that indescribable existence would burn his soul.

“Anyway,” he rearranged his words, his voice regaining its usual calm.

"So-called magic is ultimately a byproduct of getting there—that's right. Of course, being able to come into contact with the extraordinary and reach a superhuman level is an indescribable joy in itself."

He acknowledged the sense of power that magic brings, saying, "It is precisely because humans are born weak that we cannot help but pursue such extraordinary things. However,"

His tone suddenly became more serious, as if stating a cold, ironclad rule: "The ultimate goal is not there."

He piled up his words, one by one, as if building a staircase leading to nothingness:

Most modern magicians know perfectly well that the root of the problem is unreachable.

Magic itself has long since declined from its glorious peak in the mythological era, like a river flowing upstream, destined never to reach its source.

Now, the fifth mage, who is said to be possibly the last one, has also appeared in the Far East, and the door to the Root is almost completely closed.

But even so...

Magicians couldn't give up either.

If they could have given up, they wouldn't have embarked on this thorny, doomed path in the first place. This persistence is etched into their bones and ingrained in their souls.

“And Balyeleta,” Matou Ike’s gaze refocused, with a cold scrutiny, “is the family that chose the path of ‘beauty’ in order to get there.”

“…The road?” Arcueid repeated softly, the word seeming to carry too much of the uniquely human persistence and tragedy for her.

“Hmm.” Matou Ike nodded slightly. “You should have heard of this—originally, aesthetic sense was a function necessary for human survival.”

His words were like opening a long-sealed scroll of history:

For example, the murals in the Lascaux Cave in France, depicting bison and hunting scenes, are full of primal vitality.

For example, the Venus of Willendorf, a Paleolithic nude statue symbolizing abundance and vitality, was unearthed at the Willendorf site in Austria.

These works, known as primitive art, demonstrate in the simplest way the inseparable, natural relationship between humanity and "beauty," as natural as breathing.

"Regarding the role of beauty, there's a viewpoint within the magic system that holds this view—"

Matou Ike's voice carried a solemnity, as if imparting a secret ritual: "To see beautiful things is to make oneself beautiful."

"...To make oneself...more beautiful?"

Arcueid furrowed her golden eyebrows endearingly; the idea was clearly beyond her instinctive understanding, leaving her utterly bewildered.

"Hehehe." Matou Ike let out a rare low laugh, not mocking, but more like a sigh at the peculiar logic of humanity.

"Isn't it strange? But I think you know the saying 'Art and literature are food for the soul'?"

“…Ah, yes.” Elquite nodded; the metaphor seemed easier to understand.

“At its core, it seems to be the same thing,” Matou Ike explained. “According to someone, art, from a magician’s perspective, is essentially a kind of ‘resonance spell’.”

He deliberately used this magic term, "the feeling of 'purification' of one's soul and spirit through appreciating art—this is the true face of 'beauty' that we feel. A kind of resonance and elevation at the soul level."

Arcueid nodded earnestly, like a small animal that had just understood a command, her golden hair swaying in the breeze.

She pondered for a moment, a glint of understanding in her red eyes, and slowly began to speak, pushing the topic to its climax:

"Then, if there is... 'ultimate beauty'..."

"This means that our souls might be elevated to a higher dimension in one go."

Matou Ike picked up where she left off, his tone carrying a cold, logical deduction.

"So? After witnessing the Golden Princess, do you feel like you've become a decent human being again?"

He changed the subject, his tone deliberately teasing, as he glanced at Arcueid's flawless face. "However, your face is beautiful to begin with."

"—Please don't mention my face." Arcueid responded almost immediately, her tone carrying a rare, almost embarrassed resolve.

She turned her face slightly, her long golden hair concealing the momentary strangeness. This reaction was somewhat inexplicable, carrying a subtle resistance from a non-human being to human aesthetic judgment.

There was a brief silence in the room.

Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting hazy patches of light on the expensive silk quilt.

Matou Ike lay quietly on the weightless bed, feeling the heaviness within her body that was made even clearer by the extreme comfort.

“…However,” he suddenly murmured, his voice as soft as a sigh, tinged with a self-deprecating realization, “that I actually find myself talking so much about beauty…”

His gaze returned to the dark Moon Tower opposite, as if piercing through layers of stone walls to see that purple figure and those heterochromatic eyes that seemed to melt gold and solidify silver. "...It must be the effect of her magic."

The very existence of the Golden Princess Tiadera is the ultimate declaration of Balyeleta's "Path of Beauty".

Her "beauty" is not just a visual impact, but also an incredibly powerful and compulsive "resonance spell".

It compels witnesses to contemplate and discuss "beauty," their souls involuntarily attempting to understand, approach, and "purify" it.

This is precisely what Balyereta seeks: a terrifying experiment that uses "ultimate beauty" to pry open the soul and approach the root of existence.

Even Matou Ike unknowingly became a participant and witness to this grand magic trick.

“For example,” his voice was deep, with an almost cold clarity, “it’s like… being deeply moved by a book or a poem, and that changes your life.”

He paused and continued:

"That kind of resonance, that power that touches and reshapes the soul, contains extraordinary magic."

Then, his tone suddenly intensified, like a cold hammer blow, placing the Golden Princess at the pinnacle of this metaphor:

"However, the essence of the 'ultimate beauty' that Balyleta pursues lies in—if it can inevitably trigger that phenomenon..."

His words paused deliberately here, creating a suffocating sense of heaviness.

"—That rare and precious phenomenon of soul resonance, which occurs even between the most outstanding masterpieces and the most 'compatible' readers..."

"—If this resonance could become an inevitable outcome that witnesses cannot escape..."

Chapter 673 Escape (4k)

"—So, without a doubt, this is a kind of magic."

Matou Ike defined it decisively, each word like a cold engraving: "A kind of mandatory, large-scale, and precisely operated 'resonance spell'!"

He took a slight breath, as if uttering this conclusion itself required strength. The lingering sensation of the cool, minty, and metallic eye drops seemed unable to dispel the chill in his heart at that moment.

“Or,” he lowered his voice further, uttering the word that could shake the very foundations of the magician’s world, “…it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to describe it as the realm of magic.”

The silence lasted for about ten seconds, as if deliberately prolonged by some invisible force. Only the pulse of the cold Noble Phantasm in Matou Ike's sleeve beat rhythmically in the luxurious yet oppressive room, like the heartbeat of another world.

Knock knock──

Two crisp, rhythmic knocks, as precise as mechanical sounds, abruptly shattered the silence.

"May I come in?"

A voice then rang out. The voice was steady, the tone clear and melodious, carrying an inhuman politeness devoid of emotional fluctuation.

That voice... sounded familiar. Not familiar to those who knew it well, but rather a reappearance of a certain "perfect" sound quality that had been branded into the souls of all listeners not long ago during that divine storm.

A fleeting calculation and assessment flashed across Matou Ike's deep eyes. He didn't get up, remaining lying on the weightless bed, but simply responded calmly, his voice completely devoid of emotion:

"Please come in, the door is unlocked."

To him, in this territory thoroughly permeated by the will of the Izeruma family, a guest room door lock was useless, and might even become a trigger trap.

Being in someone else's magic workshop is like walking into a maze full of invisible blades. Whether it's locked or not, there's no real difference—trust itself is the most luxurious and dangerous fantasy here.

The visitor seemed to have anticipated this answer.

Almost the instant Matouchi finished speaking, the heavy door, engraved with the Izeluma family crest, was silently pushed open a crack.

The light from the wall lamps in the hallway outside the door, even dimmer than that inside the guest rooms, cut in like a cold blade.

The gap widened rapidly, revealing the view outside the door in its entirety.

Standing there was a maid.

She was one of the twin maids who stood like mirror images on either side of the Golden Princess and the Silver Princess when the latter first arrived on the terrace. Her beauty was so striking that one could easily mistake her for the protagonist.

She wore an immaculate black and white maid dress, her posture was upright, and her expression was like that of a meticulously sculpted doll, perfect but lacking in vitality.

She carried an antique-style brass lantern in one hand. Inside the lampshade, instead of flames, a soft yet cold sphere of light, like condensed moonlight, illuminated her face and a small area around her.

"My name is Karina."

The maid introduced herself in a calm and even voice. Because she was carrying a lantern in one hand, she only performed an extremely simple but still impeccable curtsy, her movements as precise as if they had been measured with a ruler.

"I have come on the orders of Lady Tiadera."

"How polite. I am Matou Ike."

Matou Ike's voice remained steady, his gaze calmly scrutinizing the maid named Karina, as if he were analyzing an exquisite magic prop.

"May I ask what brings you here?" he asked directly, without any beating around the bush.

The maid Karina did not answer immediately, but turned her head slightly to look at the shadows in the corridor behind her.

It seems there's another person involved.

Is she her twin sister? Matou Ike's thoughts worked like intricate gears.

"Please come here." Karina beckoned to the shadows behind her, her tone as calm as if stating a fact.

As she spoke, another figure slowly approached from the deeper darkness of the corridor, stepping into the edge of the lantern's light.

The next second—

Matou Ike thought he had suddenly gone blind.

No, it's not blindness in the physical sense. It's a more fundamental and terrifying overload and collapse of cognition!

Sometimes, extreme "cognition" is like a tsunami, crushing all the physical laws of reality with absolute violence, including the fragile physiological structure of humans.

At that moment, Matou Ike was subjected to a mental shock spell of the highest order.

I could personally "feel" my own visual nerve fibers breaking apart as if they were being burned by a strong light. The occipital lobe of the human brain, which is responsible for processing this visual information, seemed to be hit hard by an invisible hammer, and instantly became covered with cracks!

Everything, in the face of this second, and so close, and unreserved arrival of "beauty," is as fragile as thin ice under the sun, instantly evaporating, shattering, and annihilating!

"first meet."

The voice was clear and melodious, the tone steady, devoid of any emotional fluctuation, yet it contained a divine majesty and indifference. The greeting itself was like a beam of intense light, instantly illuminating (and perhaps scorching) the listener's soul.