Chapter 21

Divius called Ortes to his laboratory. Naturally, it was necessary to precisely measure the body of the person who would be wearing the artificial skin Divius was creating.

However, Divius hadn’t summoned Ortes solely for the task assigned to him.

He felt a curiosity about Ortes.

Ortes was one of the “devoted ones,” beings created from birth to serve a single master until death. Divius assumed Ortes had been made to serve Carisia.

What thoughts could such beings possibly have? What kind of manipulation was done to their brains that allowed this? Was it surgery? Long-term brainwashing? Or genetic interference?

Regrettably, was it something as simple as a mind-altering magic spell that just clicked into place?

How did they regard the master they were meant to serve their whole lives?

“The chairman only wants fake skin capable of passing Blasphemia’s skin verification process, right? Not any alterations at the muscle fiber level?”

“Of course. I’m also scared of getting cut.”

It wasn’t exactly a funny joke. Ortes had never flinched even in the middle of battlefields soaked with blood and steel.

But since he’d said it himself, it could be used to probe further.

“Is that so? Then which is more frightening: an enraged chairman or a blind sword swing?”

“The chairman, obviously.”

Hmm, controlled by fear?

Divius observed Ortes’ expression through his helmet. But Ortes, who claimed to find the chairman terrifying, remained perfectly calm.

***

That doctor. I knew something was off when he started favoring that avant-garde fashion of wearing a white coat over underwear with just a helmet on top.

He’s definitely not right in the head.

When comparing someone wielding a blade to someone shooting beams, wouldn’t anyone find the beam-shooter scarier?

I calmly replied.

“Isn’t it the same for the board members? They’re afraid of the chairman too.”

After all, who pays the board members’ salaries? From the perspective of an employee, the employer can only be feared.

***

The counter-question: “Aren’t you also afraid of Carisia?” It carried truth.

Because of her formidable magical prowess, and the possibility that her true identity might reach the upper echelons of the Ten Towers.

‘Thinking about it, both Carisia and Ortes know that I once handled the modification surgeries for Blasphemia…’

Then this wasn’t just a warning—it was a message.

“You should rightfully fear Carisia.” A suggestion that whatever Carisia’s true nature might be, there was something even more fearsome lurking beneath.

“One point scored. Did the Tower teach you that?”

An old-fashioned metaphor, using noble language. Subtle warnings delivered through metaphors—apparently, the direct disciples of the Towers received considerable education for their attendants.

“Tower? Nah, just picked it up along the way.”

‘What is this guy really saying?’

Fear of not receiving payment from the employer is a universal concern among all working people. Ortes shrugged.

***

Ortes’ physical measurements were ordinary. If anything, it was notable that no trace of external mana emanation was detected, suggesting high control over mana.

This must be mana compression—a crucial skill for elite combat mages aiming to conceal their presence. Satisfied with this assumption, Divius brought out enough bio-fiber to cover Ortes’ entire body.

“If you can suppress your mana field to that extent, there’s little chance of being exposed due to the artificial skin’s differing mana signature. Still, would you mind releasing some mana just in case?”

Ortes shook his head.

‘Figured as much.’

Mana attribute analysis results are typically kept confidential even among close associates within the same Magic Tower, as they provide clues about a mage’s unique abilities and how to counter them.

Divius abandoned his attempt to pry into Ortes and focused on his work, meticulously cutting and assembling the bio-fibers according to the measurements.

Precision processing at the microscopic level. Weaving the distinctive muscle fiber patterns unique to Blasphemia that acted like fingerprints during inspections, while creating pathways for the mana seal Carisia would later apply.

Between tasks, Divius casually asked questions of Ortes, seemingly idle chit-chat but actually probing into the mental structure of devoted ones.

There was always the possibility that Ortes might not be one after all.

“Isn’t it tough working under the chairman? He seems to assign you more work than even the average board member.”

“I consider it an expression of trust.”

An immediate response, almost instantaneous. Divius revised his thoughts.

‘This guy has to be a devoted one.’

‘Is this guy trying to assassinate me? Does he know what will happen if he complains about working for Carisia?’

Ortes seriously pondered whether Divius disliked him. Was this man power-hungry? Did he see him as an obstacle to his own advancement?

‘If I want to become the closest confidant, maybe I should hand over…’

Ortes unexpectedly felt discomfort imagining someone else as Carisia’s closest aide. His ultimate goal was to retire someday and live comfortably. Retirement would naturally mean parting ways with Carisia. So, what was the problem?

‘Ah.’

It was too early to retire.

‘It’s 2076 now. There’s still a possibility that the protagonist set to return in 2077 and Carisia might cause the world to collapse, so I can’t quit yet.’

Ortes nodded and added:

“I don’t particularly enjoy work either.”

Hearing this, Divius jotted down another note.

[Devoted ones appear to show unconditional affection and loyalty towards their masters.]

***

The Vykada Wandering Troupe lost a member unexpectedly—Niobe, who had met Ortes.

“What do you mean you’re leaving? So suddenly?”

Vykada had planned to sell Niobe at a high price after learning she possessed magical talent from Ortes.

Since Niobe had joined the troupe as an orphan drawn to its glittering facade, selling her secretly seemed risk-free. Vykada even rationalized that research life in a Magic Tower would be better than their wandering lifestyle.

But declaring her intention to leave openly in front of other troupe members made it difficult to forcefully detain her.

“I’m scared. Of that person.”

She was referring to Ortes who visited her last night. Had she been frightened by encountering a high-ranking mage for the first time? Unfortunately. Vykada frowned.

“It’s already over, isn’t it? Don’t go like this. Let’s leave together to the next city—”

“That person will be watching! You saw it too! That chilling…”

“Shh, quiet!”

Hydra Corp wielded significant influence. There was still a chance they were being monitored, especially since they were suspected of associating with Geryon. Loose talk could lead to trouble.

“I’m leaving here. I’m leaving.”

With such firm resolve, Vykada couldn’t find any excuses to stop her. Regretting the potential money he could have made from selling Niobe, he let her go.

Of course, Niobe wasn’t leaving because she was afraid of Ortes.

Instead, she headed straight to Hydra Corp’s building in Etna City.

To meet senior agent Ortes of Blasphemia.

***

“Is that real?”

That was my reaction upon seeing the child loitering in the company lobby via CCTV. She didn’t seem like someone waiting for their father; her innocent curiosity as she looked around was oddly endearing.

The mages from Blasphemia I’d clashed with weren’t this defenseless.

“Hmm. Quite young. Is it a disguise?”

“No. She appears to be genuinely this age. Likely a new recruit drafted after our conflict.”

“In that case, please treat her well. Though technically, you’re the one visiting them, right?”

I nodded. Since I’d follow her to the Blasphemia branch, technically I was the guest.

“Make sure my travel expenses are covered generously.”

Carisia chuckled once and waved her hand.

“If things go awry, feel free to flip the situation. Just come back unharmed.”

***

“Director Arabel, are you ready?”

“Oh, come on…”

Arabel suppressed the urge to swear. She was already tasked with making drones smaller and more covert for infiltration into secret organizations.

Preferably within a day.

‘What kind of unreasonable demands are these…’

Sighing, Arabel handed over a small box.

“It’s the smallest one I have. It’ll activate automatically when the box opens, and from then on, I’ll take manual control. Just release it near the database.”

***

As Niobe wandered around Hydra Corp’s lobby, clear footsteps approached her ears. Clack, clack.

Neat strides and steady breathing—characteristic of those with professional training.

“Did you wait long?”

Looking at the outdated senior agent before her, Niobe nodded proudly.

“Not really. Let’s hurry and report my return!”

She had heard countless times how the loss of senior agents severed the tacit knowledge within Blasphemia. Even this somewhat clumsy senior agent represented years of experience.

Reinstating this keeper of old Blasphemia techniques into the organization would surely bring great rewards. Filled with hope, Niobe quickened her pace.