This is not a temple in the secular sense, where statues of gods are placed, but in the magical sense, an upper-level evolution of a magus workshop, an otherworldly "temple" artificially constructed by the finest magus. A representative example of this is the Hounouden Rokujyuyonshou (The 64 Layers of the Hounou Temple) that was destroyed by Fujino.
Unlike the Hounouden Rokujyuyonshou, this temple was not built by a single person, nor was its construction asured in years.
This temple was perfected over more than a dozen generations, spanning centuries, finally becoming the highest masterpiece of the magecraft discipline known as "territory creation."
This is the core area of the First Lord's family in the Clock Tower, the oldest magus nobility, the Bartholoi family, carrying the honor and legacy of the Bartholoi na.
From the outside, it looks like an ordinary stone chamber, but once you pass through the door, you'll find another world hidden inside.
No exaggeration, no use of any rhetorical devices, the interior of the temple is truly an independent otherworld.
Ti slows down; space extends infinitely; the four fundantal elents of earth, water, fire, and wind are extraordinarily active here; the rules of the entire world are redefined.
Now, this otherworld, as ancient as the na Bartholoi, has welcod its new master, the contemporary heir of the Bartholoi na, the proud Queen—Bartholoi Lorelei.
Her Majesty the Queen still dresses casually, holding in her right hand the Mystic Code that has accompanied her for many years—a short whip.
"Wind!"
With a single-syllable chant, Lorelei's magic circuits spun at high speed, roaring like a beast.
Under the influence of magic, the air in front of her split apart like waves, creating a vacuum.
Indeed, a vacuum, a true emptiness—Bartholoi's secret magecraft, the Vacuum Blade!
The air displaced in an instant has a destructive power no less than a cannonball, and the air rushing back in after the pressure of the vacuum disappears causes even more terrifying secondary damage.
The result is the destruction of everything within dozens of ters, leaving only rubble and debris.
This is the terror of the highest-level wind magecraft, the Vacuum Blade, an attack so dreadful that only the lord who has inherited the ancient lineage magic crest of the Bartholoi can perform it.
The accumulation and heritage of the Bartholoi have surpassed the constraints of ti; no matter the era, they can always stand at the top.
An elderly man in a tailcoat, dressed as a butler, walked out from a pre-built shelter and bowed to Lorelei standing proudly amidst the devastation: "Congratulations, Miss. You have fully adapted to the Magic crest."
Lorelei gently brushed aside her flaxen hair, disheveled by the airflow, her face, both delicate and valiant, showing no emotion, as if everything that had just happened was only natural.
"Thank Mr. lvin for , for his excellent tuning."
Tuning holds a special aning in the magical world as well. While a tuner in a music festival adjusts the pitch, a "tuner" in the magical world adjusts magic crests.
It is a highly specialized profession, even rare at the headquarters of the Mage's Association. By naturally intervening in the cycle, they suppress the side effects of crest transplantation, allowing the inheritor's body to quickly adapt to the magic crest. A skilled "tuner" can even repair damages to the magic crest. Without exaggeration, every tuner is a sought-after ally for major magus families, and even lords and nobles do not wish to offend them.
The lvin ntioned by Lorelei is such a Tuner and one of the best in Britain. Although only in his early twenties and personally suffering from various physical and psychological issues, his outstanding tuning skills make everyone overlook his flaws. It was under his tuning that Lorelei adapted to the magic crest within just half a year.
The butler humbly lowered his head at Lorelei's command: "Yes, Miss. I will certainly convey your thanks."
"What ti is it now?" In this otherworld, there are no sun, moon, or stars, so Lorelei could not judge the ti from the environnt.
"14:32," the butler replied.
"Arrange a car for , I need to go out."
Hearing this request, the butler imdiately showed a troubled expression. "But Miss, the Lord, and several other dignitaries instructed you to go to the council chamber imdiately after completing your adaptation training..."
"Let them wait!" Lorelei raised her slender eyebrows, exuding a queenly presence. "Now that I have inherited the magic crest, I am the current Bartholoi. Even though I haven't officially taken the position of Lord, they have no right to dictate to ."
In the Bartholoi family, emotions among family mbers were very cold, and there was no so-called order of seniority—only differences in ability and status. Although Lorelei had not yet been crowned, she was already the pinnacle of the Bartholoi.
"Do it imdiately."
"Yes, Miss!" The butler dared not persuade further and could only obey the order. "May I ask where you wish to go, Miss?"
"The outskirts, to the Chelon Canticle Brigade's base." With that, Lorelei started walking toward the exit of the temple.
Behind her, the elderly man who had watched her grow up let out an almost imperceptible sigh.
"I must inform the dignitaries quickly to prevent Miss from making a wrong decision."
◇◇◇
The Chelon Canticle Brigade was currently in a state of frenzy—frantically gathering information, training relentlessly, and burning through money like mad.
Ever since they received the news of their captain's disappearance, every mber had beco silent and then unanimously entered this frenzied state.
The captain had chosen to face the dreadful White Wing Lord alone for their sake. So, before the captain returns and before the next mission, they must beco useful and not drag the captain down.
They doubled their team training, doubled their exercises, pushing themselves to the brink of unconsciousness and injury—better to collapse in training than to be a burden on the battlefield. It was either break the silence with an outburst or be consud by it.
When Lorelei entered the training ground, she witnessed this scene of madness.
"This state is wrong."
Although the Brigade had always trained hard, there was never this sense of betting their lives in such a tragic way.
Sothing must have happened. With this thought, Lorelei released her magical energy.
Sensing the familiar magic, Chariot imdiately halted the training and lined up with everyone in front of Lorelei.
"Miss, have you—have you officially inherited the magic crest?"
"Yes," Lorelei nodded slightly.
"Congratulations, Miss!"
"Spare the aningless blessings," Lorelei raised her hand to stop anyone from speaking. "Where is Death? Where is he?"
No one answered, and no one t Lorelei's gaze. The training ground was so silent that one could hear a pin drop.
The sudden silence cast a shadow over Lorelei's mood. "Why is everyone silent? Judgnt, you speak."
The one nad Judgnt raised his head, his face a mix of a bitter smile and confusion. "Miss, you don't know?"
"I don't know. I ca here directly after finishing my training," Lorelei shook her head. "What on earth happened?"
"On our last mission, we encountered Ortenrosse. The captain stayed behind alone to cover our retreat and has been missing ever since."
Lorelei's expression shifted, conveying her growing concern.
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