Magician in Type-Moon

Page 463

Isilid remained silent.

This silence—is the best answer.

But Matou Ike clearly had no intention of stopping there; he continued speaking unhurriedly:

"However, even though Kiz is dead, the spell has not ended."

"In that case, all you can do is stop the conditions for the spell to function."

"........."

Isilid's face grew increasingly grim.

"This technique is performed in the form of divine judgment."

"Then, the answer is quite simple."

"The spell can be stopped as long as the one who leads the ritual—Kiz, or his disciple—does not win."

--disciple.

Upon hearing this word, Van Fem raised an eyebrow slightly.

"I see, disciple?"

He murmured softly, his long fingers pressing down on his white top hat, glancing sideways at Bai Ruolong.

In contrast, Ruolong simply smiled, as if it had nothing to do with her.

The smile was neither mocking nor fearful; rather, it was a calm acceptance of the crowd's gaze.

"That's why you, on that occasion, followed my instructions and risked the magic circuit."

Matouchi's gaze was calm.

“If you only want to defeat Lord Van Fem, you don’t need to risk your magic circuits.”

"But if we want to defeat Bai Ruolong, we must risk our magic circuits no matter what."

He paused, then slowly uttered his final conclusion:

"You agreed because you were well aware of the difference between the two."

The bet that Matouchi mentioned was a complete trap.

Isilid's decision to stake fifty magic circuits was itself a statement—he clearly realized that "because it's a special competition, Bai Ruolong can be ignored."

In other words, he understood that under the normal rules, he had no chance of winning against Bai Ruolong.

This act of betting is itself evidence that cannot be ignored.

"Was my attack for the same reason?"

Matou Ike continued to press her for answers, her expression calm yet relentlessly pressing forward.

"You investigated my activities in Japan and Egypt, so you think I might be an element that can stop the spell, right?"

"Although I don't know what your connection is to that rogue alchemist assassin..."

His tone seemed nonchalant, but after he finished speaking, the room fell into a deathly silence.

Isilid remained silent.

He didn't say a word, nor did he offer any rebuttal.

No one in the room around the round table immediately spoke to break the oppressive silence.

—Until, a sound came from another place.

"I'd like to ask about what happened next directly."

The voice suddenly rang out, leisurely and carefree, yet carrying a strange sense of oppression.

Not from anyone in the room with the round table.

But to this day, it is a voice that only Medea can hear.

In an instant, almost everyone's gaze was drawn to the place that should have been empty.

Then, I felt a chill at that sudden "presence".

"Are you alright, Isilid?"

"Hey, why did you kill me?"

Kiz, the magician of the wandering sea, spoke with a smile.

It was a perfect face, worthy of being sculpted in an art gallery.

He laughed so brightly, as if it were just a casual question.

However, this scene was enough to make everyone gasp for breath.

Even the dealer, who had been expressionless the whole time, blinked twice and stood there dumbfounded.

"What an interesting mechanism."

In the midst of this unspeakable silence, Van Fem spoke slowly.

His fingers rested on the brim of his hat, pulling the white top hat down low, his voice deep and magnetic.

"However, whatever this institution may be—my banquet on board takes priority."

He announced calmly, his words carrying the authority befitting a gambling host.

"In other words, I must listen to the accusation just now."

"Because it must be decided that Lord Isilid has won—"

"The match is cancelled, and all chips are confiscated."

These words caused everyone present to instinctively hold their breath.

—Waiting for the unexpected visitor's response.

"Hmm, heh, heh."

Kiz chuckled softly.

"of course."

He nodded slightly, his movements elegant and fluid.

Even the smallest movement is like a flowing work of art.

"Then let me continue listening."

Urged on, Isilid, still with his head down, exhaled a cloud of white mist the size of a fist.

"He's right."

"I want to shatter your spell."

His tone was excessively calm, as if he were merely stating an objective fact.

"oops."

Kiz raised an eyebrow, a hint of mockery in his smile.

This reaction seemed to be both genuine surprise and pure amusement.

Then, Alette spoke up.

"Could it be... that Isilid is also your disciple?"

The blonde queen beneath her military uniform sharply observed the atmosphere between the two.

"I can't sense that aura at all."

The magician of the Wandering Sea always leaves a mark on his disciples.

But there were no such marks on Isilid's body.

"No, it's not."

Isilid shook his head and remained silent for a moment, as if organizing his thoughts.

Then, he slowly opened his mouth:

“Kiz of the Wandering Sea is my ancestor.”

—This sentence made everyone hold their breath for a moment.

The air in the room seemed to have frozen, deathly silent.

No one expected this answer.

No, it should be said that even that possibility was never considered.

However, in retrospect, Isild did indeed mention something similar:

"After all, our ancestors were travelers who came from nowhere."

"Although they had children in Monaco, they did not pass down any secret techniques."

"Even disregarding that, our family's magic crest is nothing more than a mortal object that we painstakingly created starting from the second generation."

—The founder of the Morgan Farns family was a traveler whose origins are unknown.

Chapter 519 Boring and Absurd

Previously, Matou Ike thought it was strange that no magic crests were left behind, but as such an ancient family, there must be some inside story different from that of the modern era.

However, in reality—

“Is that so…then it’s only natural that there is no magic crest.”

"Ike Matou said calmly, his gaze shifting between Kiz and Isilid," Matou said.

"Magic markings are a characteristic of modern magicians."

"Because that's something magicians in the mythological era, who could directly connect to the power of the gods, didn't need."

In other words, the founders of Morgan Farns did not leave behind no magical mark, but rather they did not need to leave one at all.

Because he was a magician from the mythical era—the Panhuanghai magician who still carries on his secret rituals to this day.