Miguel, who had been holding his breath, turned his head toward the corridor a beat too late.

"This is insane..."

A stunned sigh escaped him. A crack had split the center of the Glacier Wall that was blocking the corridor. Even beneath the red lighting, it stood out with brutal clarity.

Swoosh...

Worse still, the wall was slowly melting away, evaporating. The magic sustaining it had been cut off.

Beyond the ice, flashes of light and grotesque shadows, things he had no desire to identify, were becoming clearer by the second.

Boom! Crack—

With a heavy impact, the crack in the barrier spread wider. Only then did Miguel snap back to his senses, springing to his feet as he turned around.

"Brother! Now’s not the time for this! Brother!" He shouted as he ran toward the platform.

Of course, Ian still gave no response. He simply sat there, head slightly tilted back, golden eyes staring upward. Only the golden wings of magic wrapped around him moved, slowly undulating.

"Brother! Please, open your eyes! Get a hold of yourself!" Miguel rushed up the platform and reached out toward him. He meant to grab Ian by the collar and shake him, or maybe even slap him awake.

"At this rate, we’re both going to die—" Miguel hastily threw his hand up to shield his face.

One of the magic wings whipping around Ian lashed out and struck him.

Clang! Thud, crash—

Though the movement was light, Miguel had no chance of resisting. He was shoved backward and sent tumbling off the platform. Sprawled flat on the floor, he lay there with his arms and legs splayed.

Despite appearances, the impact itself hadn’t been that great.

"Unbelievable... seriously..." Still lying there, Miguel squeezed his eyes shut.

A near certainty told him Ian would not wake anytime soon. Waves of emotion, regret among them, came crashing over him.

"Is this what I get for just standing around watching? No, no... the moment I decided to follow him here was already me getting ahead of myself," Miguel muttered under his breath, barely moving his lips.

It was practically an attempt at escaping reality. After all, there was no emergency escape possible here.

From the looks of it, Ian could at least manage minimal self-defense even in that state. However, by the time that mattered, Miguel himself would already be dead.

Boom— Crack—

The situation, of course, didn’t wait for him. The chilling sound gnawing at his ears dragged Miguel’s mind back to reality.

He let out a long breath through his nose.

"Damn it. Fine. Let’s do this," he muttered under his breath.

He slipped his right hand through a gap in his armor and grabbed the leather pouch secured inside. It was something the High Priestess had secretly given him before he left Travelga, telling him to use it in a crisis.

Click... Clink—

Immediately afterward, the crossbow fastened to the forearm of his steel prosthetic arm fell to the floor.

Letting out another long sigh, Miguel rose to his feet, lightly gripping the wrist of the prosthetic with his right hand.

Crack— Rumble...

Almost at the same moment, the Glacier Wall, riddled with fractures, collapsed. It could no longer withstand the impacts spreading from the other side.

The fragments evaporated as they fell, and the resulting steam spread through the corridor like thick dust.

Beyond the mist flickered fireballs, flashing bursts of light, and the faint glow of purple eyes.

"I know you are victims of a horrific experiment!" Miguel shouted as the shapes became clearer. His eyes were wide, but he could not hide the thin tremor in his voice.

"I understand wanting revenge, but you’ve got the wrong target! We’re not gray spellcasters! We’re here to kill them!"

As he continued shouting, the steam finally cleared.

Under the red lighting, the grotesque forms of the various test subjects came into view. They didn’t rush forward immediately. Instead, they stared his way, the purple glow behind their closed eyelids burning.

It was enough to give Miguel a sliver of hope.

"S-so let’s not kill each other! Yeah? Let’s all go up together and deal with the remaining spellcasters—" His expression twisted suddenly.

A stabbing headache struck him, and a cacophony filled his mind.

Several of the test subjects had released waves of psychic screams. Almost simultaneously, all of them began twisting their bodies grotesquely, as though they had never been still at all. The next moment, they surged down the corridor in a rushing tide.

"Damn it! We’re not your enemies!" Miguel spat through clenched teeth, his brow furrowed.

However, in truth, the result was not entirely unexpected. He already knew they had been driven mad by those horrific, agonizing experiments. And worse still, every one of them was steeped in chaos.

Splat, thump...

The tide of experiments flooded Miguel’s view in an instant. Just looking at them felt enough to drive a man insane.

"Can’t be helped..." Miguel ground his teeth.

The very next moment, the golden magic seeped from the steel prosthetic clenched in his grip.

Swoosh—

The magic that began at the steel fist spread rapidly, covering the arm. It flowed over the forearm and shoulder above it, the nape of his neck, and even into the right hand gripping the prosthetic’s wrist.

Tap, tap, tap!

Meanwhile, the leading test subjects had already reached the room, bursting out of the corridor. Most of them bore surgical scars all over their bodies, especially around their heads.

Some had both arms replaced with those of cavern spiders. Others had two additional arms crudely grafted onto their bodies. Every single one had its eyes and mouth sewn shut, and its nose cut away, leaving a horrific appearance.

And of course, they continued unleashing desperate psychic waves.

Thinking of someone precious whose life he cherished, someone who had nearly suffered the same fate, Miguel muttered, "You won’t feel pain."

At almost the same moment, he stepped forward and twisted his waist with all his strength. Pulling back his right arm, he thrust the golden prosthetic forward.

The surroundings flashed brilliantly bright.

Boom—

Dragon magic burst explosively from his fist, swallowing every one of the charging test subjects rushing toward him.

Roar—

The raging golden magic did not stop there. It swept violently down the corridor as well.

Miguel had aimed precisely from the very start. Even in the midst of this, he still remembered what Ian had said earlier.

"Ghh... ugh!"

Even as he was slowly pushed backward, Miguel gritted his teeth so hard they seemed ready to shatter and kept his left arm thrust forward.

He neither lost his balance nor let the trajectory of the magic waver. Of course, the limit came soon enough.

Rumble—

Fortunately, the dragon magic pouring out faded faster. The golden torrent thinned in an instant before finally dying out.

Clank.

Still gripping the wrist of the outstretched prosthetic arm, Miguel staggered and dropped to one knee. Wisps of lingering magic rose from the prosthetic like smoke.

The room and corridor came into view, the test subjects having completely evaporated. Only dark powder drifted through the air along with the fading remnants of magic.

Beyond that, the spell circuits covering the corridor’s walls and ceiling still flickered with a red glow.

"Phew..." Miguel finally lowered the prosthetic arm and let out a long, relieved breath.

Cold sweat now covered his face.

Then his body froze.

A psychic wave echoed from beyond the bend in the corridor. Soon after, more test subjects staggered into view.

Perhaps startled by what had just happened, they didn’t charge immediately. They simply stared his way.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

Miguel let out a weary sigh as more pairs of purple-glowing eyes appeared one after another. Even as he did, he slid his right hand into the gap in his armor and pulled out the leather pouch.

Shrrk—

He set it on the floor and loosened the cord tied around its opening.

The pouch fell open, revealing charcoal chunks filling its interior. Faint orange letters flickered along the pouch’s lining. The High Priestess had inscribed a prayer there with her blood.

Of course, this wasn’t the time to admire it.

Crunch!

Miguel drove the steel fist into the pouch as though stabbing it down inside, then pulled it back out. The prosthetic’s fist was now coated in charcoal powder.

Moments later, orange sparks began flickering through it like scattered embers.

"It works!" Letting out an exclamation, Miguel quickly twisted the pouch closed again and shoved it back into his chest. He immediately drew the ax at his waist.

Just then, another psychic wave burst from the corridor, stabbing into his head.

Tap, tap, tap!

The hesitant test subjects finally started running. Unlike the earlier ones, these had crackling lightning running across them or flames swirling around them.

Holding his breath, Miguel hurriedly rubbed the blade of the ax against his prosthetic arm as though sharpening it.

Scrape, scrape— Fwoosh!

Orange flames ignited not only at the end of the prosthetic fist but along the blade of the ax as well—it was the sacred flame.

Miguel sprang to his feet and swung the axe.

Fwoosh— boom!

The sacred flames streaked along the arc of the swing and split the incoming fireball in two.

Small explosions burst in the air.

"Come on, you bastards! I’m not holding back!" Miguel shouted. His roar carried more than just anger.

From beyond the corridor, the test subjects answered with another wave of psychic screams.

Swoosh—

The spell circuits covering the walls and ceiling slowly turned a golden hue. The ripple of light spread from the chair behind Miguel, where Ian was seated.

The golden wave spread past the corridor in an instant. The spell circuits throughout the chamber dimmed, settling into a calm white.

However, that was not the only reason Miguel lowered his prosthetic arm and axe.

"Huh?"

The experiment subjects charging toward him suddenly stopped in their tracks, their heads lifting. The purple glow behind their closed eyelids flickered, then faded out the next moment.

Thud—

Almost simultaneously, the test subjects began collapsing one after another. The crackling lightning and blazing fire surrounding them also lost their power and scattered.

Miguel stared blankly down the corridor for a moment.

"That’s a technique I haven’t seen before."

At the voice, Miguel flinched and turned around. "Brother!"

Ian was rising from the chair, gripping the armrests with both hands. His eyes, shining like rings of light, fixed on Miguel as he tilted his head slightly.

"When did you learn something like that?"

"I didn’t learn it. The High Priestess... No, that’s not important." Miguel answered absently, then turned his head and swallowed hard. "I used the prosthetic’s Mantra circuit. Otherwise I would’ve died, so I had no choice—"

"I know. I felt it. It’s fine. I was planning to have you use it on those things if it came to that anyway," Ian cut him off calmly and released the armrests, smiling faintly. "You must’ve been startled. You held out well, Miguel."

"I can’t even pretend otherwise. I really thought I was done for," Miguel replied, his voice filled with relief as his shoulders finally sagged.

Ian chuckled softly and stepped forward.

Whoosh—

Almost at the same time, Ian’s magic horns and wings dissolved into drifting motes of light.

Miguel watched him and asked, "So, everything worked out?"

"Yeah. As you can see, the Magic Tower is really mine now."

Stepping down from the platform, Ian glanced around at the steadily glowing walls and ceiling.

"Not just control over all the spell circuits, but the dragon magic that powers them."

"Dragon magic is the power source?" Miguel blinked in surprise.

Ian let out a quiet laugh. "That’s the secret behind keeping this many spell circuits running."

Normally, even after completing the succession ritual, controlling the tower’s power source would have been impossible.

It was only possible because Ian was an agent of the dragon. He had sensed a faint fragment of consciousness within the Truesilver Dragon’s magic.

Maybe it simply recognized me as something like a young of its own kind...

That was also why the inheritance process had taken longer than expected. In any case, thanks to it, this magic tower had now become a space for Ian no different from Drag Velga, the underground base in the Black Lands.

Within its walls, he could freely wield dragon magic.

The activation of the Mantra Resonance alone proved that much. Of course, it was not infinite, but for a human like him, the difference would hardly matter.

"So you killed all those things to celebrate that, huh?" Miguel added as he looked down the empty corridor. His tone carried an odd note, as though he wasn’t entirely pleased.

"I didn’t kill them," Ian said as he walked past Miguel.

Miguel turned his head toward him. "What?"

"I just reactivated the restraints. They might still be useful someday."

Miguel blinked in surprise, then nodded slowly. "Ah... I see... right..."

A faint smile appeared on his lips. "That was the right call. Honestly, I didn’t really like the idea of killing all of them either."

"I'm not sure whether that makes you more like a priest or less like one," Ian muttered with a smirk.

Then he glanced back at Miguel and tilted his head toward the corridor. "We’re heading up another level. Stop standing there and come with me. This place is safe now—so put out that fire."

"Ah," Miguel hesitated, then finally looked down at his prosthetic arm and axe. The sacred flames were still flickering.

He frowned, teeth clenched.

"It’s not going out," Miguel muttered blankly.

It was more than enough to make Ian, who was already heading toward the corridor, let out another chuckle.

Ian slowly shook his head.

"Well... if you just leave it alone, won’t it go out eventually? Ha ha..." With an awkward chuckle, Miguel followed after him. The prosthetic arm and axe still burned with sacred fire as they dangled at his side.