Chapter Ninety-Two: The Flower of Hope

“What is Danik up to? Not only did he designate the site for Lancer’s duel, he even specified the location for your battle, Professor Kenneth.”
Waver studied the address on the letter passed to him by the familiar, scrutinizing it carefully.
“There’s nothing special about it, just a wide street. Even if he wanted to set a trap, it wouldn’t be feasible.”
“He’s probably afraid I’ll use a closed space to set up a temporary workshop. After all, that guy’s aware of the immense power of a lord’s family.”
Kenneth spoke dismissively, urging Waver onward.
“Hurry, get the hotel to prepare a car. With this distance, we can’t just walk there.”
“I already notified the hotel when we were in the suite.”
Waver nodded, took a few steps forward, glanced out the window, then beckoned Kenneth over.
“Professor Kenneth, the car is ready!”
Hearing Waver’s voice, Kenneth instinctively glanced outside and saw a black sedan quietly parked by the street, then calmly walked over to join Waver.
“Let’s head out.”
On streets bathed in fiery red by the twilight, there was not a soul in sight. Owing to the reserved suite, even the hotel staff remained on standby inside. This beautiful scene prompted Waver to sigh in awe.
“It feels so quiet. There aren’t any citizens on the street—it’s so different from London.”
“It’s probably due to the church’s lockdown a few days ago. Ordinary people wouldn’t be as carefree as you.”
Hearing Kenneth mention his past blunder, Waver scratched the back of his head, embarrassed.
“That’s not important anymore... Now is the time to stay sharp.”
“You’re in surprisingly good spirits,”
Kenneth glanced at Waver in surprise, unable to fathom how this usually timid boy had suddenly found his courage.
“Of course! This is my first real magic battle. Professor Kenneth is so serious, Rider is doing his best, so I have to step up as well!”
“You’re right. The growth of a mage comes from experience and accumulation. One must prove the worth of what the family has built up across generations—that is the meaning of being an heir. As long as we never stop, the path to the Root will always stretch onward...”
Seeing Waver’s earnest expression, Kenneth, for once, smiled. Witnessing his student’s gradual growth was a novel experience for him.
Suddenly, as they stepped out of the hotel and onto the street, a screech of brakes shattered the peaceful atmosphere.
On both sides of the street, several sedans appeared one after another, blocking all exits. The doors swung open and out stepped a group of emotionless, identical artificial men, all bearing Danik’s face. Each one brandished a cold firearm.
Without warning, flames burst forth—countless bullets rained down on the defenseless pair.
Before Waver could cry out, Kenneth pulled him behind, shielding him.
He neither fled nor resisted, and as the attack continued, Waver’s reason disconnected entirely. He stared, dumbfounded, at the blood dripping from Kenneth’s shoulder onto his own nose, and his trembling voice burst forth.
“Professor Kenneth, what are you doing? Professor Kenneth!”
Kenneth replied with a cold roar: “Quiet! I’m not dead yet!”
From the large porcelain bottle Kenneth carried, the metallic sheen of mercury had already, unknown to Waver, formed into a sphere, enveloping both of them.
Waver recognized the name of this mystic code: Mooncell Mercury, crafted by Kenneth in his twenties, renowned for its exceptional performance and perfect manipulation of liquid, soon becoming El-Melloi’s signature mystic code.
The moment they were attacked, the code had activated, saving their lives. Apart from Kenneth’s shoulder wound, the assault achieved nothing.
“Auto-lock, autonomous defense, tracking and elimination!”
Kenneth, disregarding Waver, swiftly recited an incantation, ending with an angry, commanding shout.
“Scalp!”
The mercury sphere wrapped around them shivered in response, then stretched into thin, elongated ribbons, rapidly extending like whips at a speed no human could react to, lashing out to the ends of the street!
As they moved and stretched at high speed, the mercury whips grew ever thinner, finally forming razor-sharp blades just a few millimeters wide, slicing attackers and their cars into several pieces.
In an instant, the situation reversed!
“Well, my aim was decent after all. In the end, they were just artificial men.”
Before Kenneth could show any pride, Waver’s tearful voice came from behind.
“Professor Kenneth, your wound... You protected me, and the Mooncell Mercury didn’t cover you completely in time…”
“Waver, why are you sounding like that… I am your lecturer, Kenneth El-Melloi, ninth heir of the Archibald family. Protecting students is my duty. One bullet is nothing; the healing function of my crest has already handled it.”
Kenneth scanned the surroundings with a fierce look, declaring in a commanding voice.
“Danik! Did you think setting a trap on my path would defeat me? With nothing but a bunch of gun-wielding artificial men? To think, as head of the Thousand Trees, you’ve lost even the mage’s pride!”

“In terms of efficiency, firearms are simply the most convenient method. Nothing more.”
Among the corpses of the artificial men, Danik emerged, his cold gaze sweeping over Kenneth.
“Now, with these artificial men dead, I am the sole Master.”
Danik casually lifted his shirt, exposing the deformed disk on his chest to Kenneth. “With the thrill of brushing past death, excitement from battle, anger, and the desire for victory, your soul is at its peak. Now is the time to harvest it.”
“You think you can rely on that meaningless mystic code?”
Kenneth scoffed, his expression quickly turning icy.
“But you’re right about one thing: my fury is about to erupt! Mooncell Mercury!”
The flowing mercury surged toward Danik like a tidal wave.
But he simply tapped the talisman on his chest again, and in the next instant, a misty white light flashed across the street.
As the white light swept by, the surging Mooncell Mercury, Kenneth issuing commands with a wave, and Waver resolutely brandishing his ward—all froze in place.
“Yes, this is the normal effect.”
Danik cautiously evaluated his surroundings before finally relaxing. “If not to force you to use that soul-infused mystic code, enabling the talisman to strike, I wouldn’t have bothered with all this.”
He strode toward Kenneth, then frowned.
He realized that although most of the mercury used for offense had entered standby due to the talisman’s shock, the membrane around Kenneth and Waver had not disappeared.
“Even while chanting to activate your code, you left a portion of control within your magic crest? Truly a prodigy.”
Though his own soul research had reached the rank of Grand, Danik had to admire Kenneth’s talent. Unlike himself, who pursued a single specialty, Kenneth embodied the mage’s definition of genius.
Magic crests are organs crafted by mage families to accumulate research, preserving mysteries from the ravages of time.
Thus, magic stored within the crest can be activated with mana alone, even by those who don’t understand its secrets. When an heir faces mortal danger, the crest injects power spontaneously to keep them alive. In some ways, the crest is the true master of a mage’s lineage; each generation is merely its vessel.
To be able, at such a young age, to inscribe his own spell and exploit this mechanism made Danik admire Kenneth all the more.
“A pity. Sixty years ago, I would have been powerless against this. But now, prodigy, witness the power of a Grand mage.”
A cruel smile appeared on Danik’s face as he placed his hand on the talisman once again.
“A crest is only an organ whose efficiency is determined by bloodline fluctuations and soul frequency…”
Suddenly, the crest on his arm began to glow, emitting a sound like a scream.
Danik spat blood, insanity deepening in his gaze.
“By tuning soul frequencies to resonate with your crest, then destroying my own magic crest, your crest will suffer irreversible damage!”
“Ahhhh—!”
As the patterns on Danik’s arm exploded in bloody flowers, Kenneth’s magic crest also became disordered, causing the surrounding mercury to droop helplessly.
Then, Danik abruptly grabbed at Kenneth’s head, but at the moment of contact, a shock struck his abdomen and sent him flying.
Waver, pale-faced, maintained his pose from throwing the ward, instinctively supporting Kenneth.
“I underestimated you, Waver Velvet. Who would have thought, amid soul tremors, your recovery would surpass Kenneth’s, and you’d dare to attack me. Such noble courage.”
Danik scrambled up, clutching at his torn abdomen, but his smile remained undiminished.
“Unfortunately, you’re still one step short.”
Waver focused, suddenly noticing Danik’s hand grasping something—before he could see clearly, Danik swallowed it whole!
“Professor Kenneth! Professor Kenneth!”
As if realizing something, Waver shook Kenneth instinctively, but though Kenneth’s eyes were open, his pupils were utterly vacant.
“It’s useless. He’s nothing but a husk now,” Danik said indifferently, standing tall. Having swallowed Kenneth’s soul, his complexion grew rosy, and he seemed unconcerned with his injuries.
Just as he prepared to kill the troublesome small fry, he noticed Kenneth—supposedly unconscious—lifted a finger and croaked an incantation.
“Boil, my blood.”
At his command, the Mooncell Mercury that had lain on the ground gathered again at his side.
“A soul’s residue, briefly regaining consciousness in the dying light?”
Danik sneered, “Too bad—you’d have died more comfortably in a coma.”
But as the mercury began to surge, hesitation flickered on Danik’s face. In the end, he shook his head, abandoned the idea of finishing them off, and swiftly left the street.
He’d attend to this later, once he’d merged with Enkidu. With his soul at such a fever pitch, he couldn’t miss this chance. Today, he would wring the last value from Lancer!

After Danik departed, Waver hurriedly dragged Kenneth inside the hotel, barely pausing to wipe his tears.
Once they were back within the workshop’s bounds and protected by the barrier, he called out again.
“Professor Kenneth, we’re safe now… I’ll treat your wounds…”
“There’s no need,” Kenneth leaned against the wall, suddenly opening bloodshot eyes to look at Waver. “Waver Velvet, I demand one thing—cut off the arm bearing my crest!”
“Hurry!”
At Kenneth’s command, Waver’s hesitation vanished. He grabbed a ritual dagger, reinforced it with magic, and sliced off Kenneth’s arm in one stroke!
Despite the agonizing pain, Kenneth’s lips curled into a smile.
“Thank you, Waver. The El-Melloi crest has already been fractured by that man’s spell, but thanks to your prompt action, some usable parts may remain. I can’t let El-Melloi die in my hands. With the crest rampaging and my soul lost, my life can’t be saved.”
Kenneth’s voice grew raspier, his eyelids drooping.
“It’s all my fault… If only I’d been more self-aware… If I hadn’t come to this Holy Grail War, Professor Kenneth wouldn’t have…”
Watching his contradictory teacher slip into death after protecting him, powerless to help, Waver was drowning in guilt and remorse.
“Waver Velvet, you needn’t blame yourself. This was my own choice—nothing for you to bear.”
Kenneth glanced at Waver. His pale voice rang out again.
“I read your thesis closely. You argue that ingenious spells can compensate for bloodline disparity, but unfortunately, that’s the ideal scenario. Maybe in a century, when the foundation of modern magecraft emerges, it’ll be possible. But for now, it’s against all reason.”
“Mages are beings who constantly strive for the Root. If one generation fails, the next continues. Each generation’s bloodline and research stand atop the last, enduring long years, risking extinction, but still pressing on.”
Kenneth’s head drooped as if nodding off, but his mind was perfectly clear, seeming to step out of his body into a beautiful dream.
“As long as we don’t stop, the path to the Root keeps stretching forward. You said you’d overturn the mage world? Even if you only change a little, that’s a remarkable achievement.”
“So, Waver Velvet, never stop. You are Kenneth’s student—if you never cease, I’ll always be ahead.”
“Professor Kenneth!”
Waver’s eyes blurred with tears. He kept wiping them, but every time his vision cleared, more tears spilled forth.
“I know, Professor Kenneth, I understand… Though you’re part of the noble faction and usually act aloof, when grading papers you treated both commoners and nobles equally, never holding back in your teaching. The happiest thing in my life was meeting a teacher like you.”
Though his voice faded, Kenneth’s cutting remarks did not.
“To this day, I won’t retract my assessment. Your theoretical achievements are castles in the air, your impulsive attitude mere self-importance.”
“—But for this extracurricular practice, I give you an excellent.”
Receiving such praise from that stubborn man, Waver instinctively inquired,
“Professor Kenneth?”
But there was no reply.
He was gone.
After some time, in the distant sky, Rider drove his chariot like a falling star into the barrier.
“Lancer was suddenly called by his Master, so I hurried back. On the way, I sensed the contract breaking—kid, Master’s all right…”
The King of Conquest’s voice abruptly stalled. He instinctively tightened the reins, calming the rampaging divine bulls.
Seeing the corpse and Waver sitting dumbly beside it, Iskandar scratched his head, his rugged face heavy with grief.
“To think we really fell into a trap. I failed too. Kid, leave here now; this war is heading in a strange direction. These Masters keep letting victory slip away, as if the Holy Grail isn’t what they seek. As much as I dislike it, my conquest seems headed for its final act.”
“No,”
A resolute voice countered the King of Conquest.
Waver grasped Kenneth’s severed arm, gazed at the remaining Command Spells, and performed the spiritual medium ritual with unprecedented precision and seriousness.
“Kid, you…”
As Rider spoke in surprise, Waver lifted his head, his face steely with determination.
“If we retreat in disgrace, Professor Kenneth’s efforts will all be for naught. King of Conquest, let me become your vassal.”
“In the name of Waver Velvet… in the name of El-Melloi, I swear: your journey will not end here.”
With those words, Waver stood up, raised his left hand—two vivid Command Spells still visible.
(End of chapter)