Chapter 26
“…Tower Master!!”
The Emperor’s strong grip on his shoulder snapped Achilles out of his thoughts. He had been remembering how the Tower Master once healed the Princess’s wounds. Back then, the royal physician had said that, due to her rare condition, not even the Holy Pope could save her.
“Tower Master! Please, save the Crown Prince!!”
The Emperor pleaded with a desperation Achilles had never seen on his face before. Achilles’s eyes moved past the Emperor to Charlize, who knelt beside the Crown Prince. Her face was pale as she sat next to the Empress by Oscar’s side.
Tap.
It wasn’t the sharp sound of a finger snap—it was more like the stomp of a foot. In that moment, all noise fell away. Confused, Charlize looked around.
Everyone… was frozen in place. The only people still moving were Charlize—and just one other.
“Achilles! My brother—!”
“Please, stay calm, Your Highness.”
As he approached through the motionless crowd, Achilles looked down at Oscar, who had collapsed. At first glance, he assumed it was poison. After all, nothing else could kill a Sword master.
He had confidence—he could cure nearly any poison.
But…
What had struck Oscar wasn’t poison. It was a curse.
It acted like poison and entered the body like poison—but it wasn’t. That meant no antidote could cure it. No spell could slow it down. It was a demonic curse, born of dark magic.
And Achilles recognized it right away.
It was a curse from the demon clan, known as Xeramatz. He had once carried that same curse in his own body. It had taken his parents’ lives and nearly claimed his as well.
He had only survived thanks to a powerful spell cast by his master, the former Tower Master. But that spell wasn’t powered by ordinary mana. That was why Achilles turned to Charlize.
My master used the last remaining vial to save me.
The former Tower Master had somehow obtained a substance called Primordial Mana. He wasn’t born with it like Charlize, but he had stored one last vial in a special container—and used it.
Though Achilles had been his disciple, he never learned how to use that magic. Now, trying it again would be a dangerous gamble.
“The Crown Prince wasn’t poisoned—he’s been cursed. And this curse can’t be treated with potions or regular spells.”
He remembered the exact moment his master had used that magic. The brilliance of it had stayed with him ever since—and it was the reason he became obsessed with Primordial Mana.
“Then… what can we do? Can he still be saved?” Charlize asked, her voice shaking.
“I need your help, Your Highness.”
Charlize’s eyes widened at Achilles’s words, but she didn’t hesitate. She was ready to do anything to save her brother. She could ask questions later—right now, she needed to act.
“What do I need to do?”
“Just focus on passing your power to me. Imagine sending it to me.”
He couldn’t teach her magic here—not now. Fighting a curse this powerful was a completely different challenge from the one that had once threatened her life.
Achilles took her blood-stained hand, but the Primordial Mana inside her didn’t move. It stirred faintly but wouldn’t respond. Maybe it was hard for her, someone who wasn’t a mage, to picture what to do.
“Picture yourself pouring the power out—like water spilling from a cup.”
Charlize closed her eyes and tried, but the huge energy within her only trembled. It hovered, uncertain, like a vast sea refusing to release even a drop. Achilles knew he needed to try something else.
He met her anxious gaze—his own filled with quiet determination. Sadly, he couldn’t promise her anything.
“May I draw some of your power myself?” he asked softly.
“Yes!”
She almost begged him to hurry, but held it back. He was a mage. She knew that every step had to be taken with care.
Then, without warning, Achilles pressed his warm lips to hers. His tongue gently parted her lips, and Charlize didn’t resist.
Is this… part of the spell? Is this really necessary?
As their mouths met, she tried to calm her racing heart. Oscar was right there. He was dying. This wasn’t the time for something that felt like a kiss.
Magic.
What was magic, really? Did she truly have that kind of power inside her?
Achilles’s kiss grew more persistent, almost possessive, as if urging Charlize to focus. She tried to pull her scattered thoughts back together and concentrate—on him, on his presence.
His tongue, his warm lips, spoke in a silent whisper, calling only for her. She could feel the strength in his arms as he held her tighter, their bodies pressed even closer.
Ah…
The realization came like a spark of light in her mind. Through the kiss—through their shared breath—she felt her power blending into his.
That vast energy… And from Achilles as well, she sensed a great force—less than hers, but still powerful enough to blanket everyone in the room and more.
Take it.
Even though she possessed this power, she couldn’t save Oscar. But Achilles might. He had said he could—and she had no choice but to trust him.
But controlling the image in her mind was harder than she thought. In the end, it was only Achilles’s steady pull that slowly drew her power into him.
From the ocean of power inside her, only a small portion—like a single bucket pulled from the sea—began to transfer. Achilles, his eyes burning with heat, looked at her and gently let go.
“Watch closely, Your Highness.”
If she ever needed to learn this herself, this was a moment worth remembering. Achilles took a deep breath, then began to move the mana he had absorbed from Charlize.
The previous Tower Master had done the same before breaking Achilles’s curse—drinking the mana first.
Maybe because Charlize gave it to me willingly, it isn’t resisting my will.
To be safe, he drew out more mana than he actually needed. After all, Charlize had an immense amount of Primordial Mana slumbering inside her.
With only a light touch of his consciousness, the time-freezing spell that had bound everyone in the banquet hall broke all at once. The black energy spreading through Oscar’s body, like poison, became visible again. The Empress, abandoning all formality, began to cry.
“Tower… Master?”
His body glowed with divine light. Among the crowd, only the High Priest recognized the holy power—and his eyes widened in shock.
Only high-ranking priests or priestesses were supposed to use divine magic. Mages typically worked with white magic at most.
A mage… using holy magic?!
Before everyone’s eyes, Achilles used divine magic on Oscar. Watching from a distance, Valter’s face tensed. Ralph’s betrayal had been unexpected, but Oscar’s assassination had been his masterstroke—a way to strike at both the Tower Master and the Emperor.
There’s no way… no one can cure that. No mage on this continent could possibly—
Oscar’s body trembled violently as the light surged through him. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He pushed away the attendants who tried to steady him and twisted his body forward.
“Urgh… hhhkk—!”
Everyone thought the Crown Prince would vomit blood, but instead, he coughed up a black, oil-like substance. It slithered out of him, trying to return—but his body, still shining with divine light, repelled it completely.
What struck the expelled curse was a flame summoned by Achilles. Blue fire instantly engulfed the dark mass, spreading across it like a wave and burning it all to ash.
Within seconds, it vanished, leaving only a smudge of black soot on the floor. Oscar collapsed to his knees, coughing roughly.
“Oscar! Oscar, are you alright?!”
“Your Majesty…”
Oscar blinked slowly, his vision clearing. The pain that had clouded his mind was gone. The chill that had shaken his body had disappeared.
“I… I’m fine now. Nothing hurts anymore.”
The black marks that had spread like poison over his face and limbs were also gone. The Empress, overwhelmed with relief, turned her eyes to Achilles. She had once disliked him for daring to take her precious daughter beyond the capital, but now—she was thankful the Emperor had trusted him.
“Thank you, truly… Tower Master.”
The Emperor rose from his seat and grasped Achilles’s hand. His fingers were still trembling, perhaps from the fear of what might have been.
“Marquis Illien… I owe you a great debt.”
“….”
Achilles didn’t answer. He only bowed his head. Charlize suddenly realized—he only ever spoke so much when he was with her.
“Your Majesty! We must find out who’s responsible. Please grant permission to begin the search!”
The captain of the knight order, who had been in charge of the ceremony’s security, knelt before the Emperor, his voice urgent. The Emperor’s face darkened—Oscar had nearly died. That rage had nowhere else to go.
“Permission granted. All nobles are to comply with the search!”
A wave of unease spread among the whispering nobles. Just then, the royal physician arrived at the banquet hall, having followed the guards. He quickly checked on Oscar, while the Emperor helped the pale Empress to her feet.
Charlize gently held Achilles’s arm.
“You said it wasn’t poison—it was a curse. Then… does that mean we can identify who did it?”
“The method is the same as poisoning,” Achilles replied calmly. “They either made him drink it… or coated a weapon with it and stabbed him.”
