The appearance of the elderly man is impressive at first glance. His long, white hair, like silver threads woven by an ancient goddess, gives him a distinctive and striking look.
It falls over his hunched shoulders like cascades of ethereal snow, revealing a deep and unfathomable inner wisdom.
Miklotov mustache is equally lush but well-groomed; each hair seems to have been surgically shaped to denote experience, comparing to the sharpness of a freshly sharpened blade.
On his wrinkled face, the reflection of years filled with lived intensity and knowledge accumulated over decades is evident.
His attire doesn't go unnoticed: he wears a purple robe that clearly signifies his membership in the council of sages.
The golden trims glow in the dim light of the place like incandescent stars in the night sky. A small purple cap rests on his gray head, adding a peculiar touch to his imposing and majestic figure.
But the most notable is the emblem adorning his chest: a meticulously carved symbol representing the kingdom of Lugunica in all its ancestral splendor.
The jewel sparkles with golden flashes under the flickering lights of the sacred hall, reminding us of the importance of his role as a leader and guardian of knowledge.
Miklotov McMahon, a being shrouded in mystery and wisdom. A man whose outward appearance reflects the complexity of his interior, an amalgamation of experience, intensity, and erudition.
Emilia can't help but feel overwhelmed by the imposing presence of the wise elder as she eagerly awaits the words that will reveal the destiny that awaits her in her quest for power.
Emilia formally bows, and I follow suit as we both offer respect to the person in front of us.
The reason behind this meeting couldn't be anything other than showing some form of political support.
The sages sought to establish alliances and endorse the suitable candidate to secure their position in the future.
It's a subtle competition, a dance where each step could make a difference.
"Don't worry about formalities, please have a seat," he calmly adds as we settle in. Beatrice, true to her vigilant nature, positions herself on my lap, alert to any signs of danger.
The reason for our summons to this meeting can't be anything other than seeking some form of political support.
Sages, much like politicians, are interested in forming alliances and securing their leadership position. It's a constant competition for power.
"There's something I'd like to discuss before, Marco," Miklotov, the sage leader, says, fixing his gaze on me as if he wants to read the depths of my being. After a brief silence, he continues, "I know you had a confrontation with one of the imperial knights and fought against the royal knight, Julius Juukulius. Is there any reason why you decided to fight?"
Miklotov words lead me to reflect on my actions and emotions at that moment. The man seems interested in understanding my true self.
During the selection for the confrontation, I presented myself formally and proudly, aiming to impress those present.
However, during the fight, my emotions erupted, and my arrogance became evident.
Miklotov piercing gaze is like a vortex intending to absorb all my answers. I don't know much about him, only rumors about his mysterious use of Yang magic and his impressive intelligence.
"When the man insulted me, initially, I had the intention of challenging him myself. However, Julius's appearance on the scene forced me to change my plans," I respond with sincerity, aware that I can't hide anything from this wise man.
It's better to be challenged than to challenge when it comes to a disproportionate fight. Emilia looks at me puzzled, not fully understanding the background of my response, but she remains silent not to interrupt the conversation.
Gildark, on his part, stands undisturbed by the door, like a silent sentinel.
"Is that linked to the reason why you challenged him?" Miklotov questions, demonstrating that his deductions are precise and insightful.
I've hit the mark. Miklotov is undoubtedly a wise man, capable of connecting the threads of events with ease.
Roswaal must have had some involvement in all of this, but I still can't glimpse his true intention.
At first, I thought his goal was to see Emilia fail, but my confrontation with Julius didn't follow that course.
He seems more satisfied with the progress Emilia is making. This implies that there's something more at stake, something closely related to the current situation.
"Julius is the knight of Miss Anastasia Hoshin, a candidate for the throne. At that moment, he intervened to prevent the knights from causing trouble,"
I explain, directing my gaze towards Gildark to remind him of what had happened earlier.
"The knights tried to intimidate us, and although attacking one of them was unjustified, I trusted in something... something that is very important."
The atmosphere became denser, as if destiny were weaving a complex web in which we were trapped. Miklotov analyzed every word, every gesture, and in his eyes, the spark of intelligence gleamed.
There's a hidden reason behind this meeting, and I was determined to uncover it, no matter how deep I had to dig.
"Your potential status as the one who ended the life of an archbishop," Miklotov says, with a somber and piercing tone.
He hit the nail on the head.
My attack on the knight is perceived as an act of betrayal, but the situation demands a deeper investigation, as the knights were acting in collusion with several nobles. Besides, I didn't cause any real harm.
"My status depended on how I acted," I respond calmly. "If I had remained silent, you wouldn't have confirmed the truth of my information." Emilia looks at us confused as she tries to grasp the complexities of the matter.
I know her intelligence is varied, but for now, she seems overwhelmed by the reigning chaos.
Miklotov seems to perfectly understand my motivations. It doesn't matter if I was arrogant or unpredictable during the battle; what matters is the impact those actions have on our adversaries.
"You already knew that knight wasn't a match for you," Miklotov states with genuine admiration.
"I knew when my magic affected him," I modestly reply. In reality, I took the knight by surprise using my enhanced gravitational control ability without the need for excessive use of my internal strength.
Curious to know more details about this defeated challenging knight, I turn my attention to Gildark and ask:
"What is the rank of Knight Kus Sidmuth, Lord Gildark?" I inquire.
Gildark gazes at Miklotov before swiftly responding, not taking much time for reflection. "Knight Kus Sidmuth holds the one hundred and fifty-third position on the list of knights," Gildark states firmly, looking at me with determination.
Most knights are undoubtedly powerful, but none of the regular ones compare to Julius.
There's an immense gap between the top positions and the rest, as if they belong to two different worlds.
"And you defeated him easily," Gildark asserts with a neutral expression.
I raise my rifle slowly, emphasizing that this weapon played a crucial role in achieving victory over that opponent. "My creation played a crucial role; without it, I would have had to rethink my strategy completely, and maybe I wouldn't have secured such a decisive victory," I conclude with humility.
The sage contemplates my rifle for a few seconds before closing his eyes, as if he's not genuinely interested in it or perhaps wanting to prevent Gildark from overhearing our words.
"So, you used that person to instill fear," he asserts with a calm and profound voice.
I nod slowly, aware that to inspire fear, it's necessary to show an impeccable victory. That person never stood a chance.
Their loss was because they weren't prepared to face the destructive power of my weapon, and their arrogant and irrational attitude only accelerated their defeat.
With their downfall, the knights and several nobles will fear not only me but anyone wielding a similar weapon. That's why I emphasized that all my soldiers possess it.
"Yes, it was the only way to show that my soldiers could defeat the cultists," I explain with determination. "Rumors will spread, and they'll grow more cautious when faced with an artifact like this... or at least they'll think twice."
A mysterious weapon capable of cutting lives short in the blink of an eye. An instrument whose thunder announces imminent death.
The less information they have about it, the more varied the speculations that will arise; even if it's a double-edged weapon, the important thing is to sow doubts in their minds.
"The rest of my actions were driven by my pride and the desire to vent my frustrations at the unjust treatment I received," I confess without hiding my true feelings. It's not entirely a lie. The truth is that the rest was simply to instill fear.
The sage nods, understanding the complexity of my motivations.
"However, choosing Julius as an opponent has a special significance," the sage continues mysteriously.
Yes, but that's not something he needs to know. Whether he can discover it for himself or not will depend on his powers of observation and discernment.
"Given his involvement in this situation, I thought it would be a good choice to face Julius," I explain calmly. "However, he turned out to be a formidable adversary."
A mischievous spark lights up my gaze as I contemplate the deeper implications of my strategy. Obstructing Anastasia's judgment. Only then will I have the opportunity to continue my growth.
A choice that seems illogical within the framework of conventional logic. However, when one carefully considers the benefits that this option entails, it reveals itself as the most reasonable and sensible.
A great dilemma has emerged in my path, but so far, it seems to have borne good fruits.
I'm unaware of Anastasia's hidden intentions, but I am certain that her first step will be to investigate my background.
This involves sending her subordinates to Irlam to ask questions and gather information about me.
Anastasia will discover details about the start of my contracts with steam machines and will also hear rumors about the confrontation against those formidable mabestias.
All of this will envelop the matter in a mysterious and intriguing aura. However, as my power continues to grow unstoppably, she will maintain a prudent caution towards me.
And that's precisely what I need to keep advancing without obstacles or interference.
"Nevertheless," Miklotov intervenes, addressing Gildark with an inquisitive look, "you have managed to achieve your goal by showcasing your might to all of us. Now, if you were to classify Marco within the ranks of the knights, what position would you place him in considering only what has been shown so far?"
Gildark pauses for a brief moment as Beatrice takes my hand in hers, playing with it as if it were a toy, moving it from side to side.
Her soft and delicate touch evokes a mix of subtle yet intense emotions within me. Emilia, on the other hand, remains silently observing the conversation.
I sincerely hope she is paying attention and deeply reflecting on what we are discussing because I don't want to have to repeat everything.
Emilia possesses innate intelligence in certain aspects, but her extremes can be detrimental. However, I see a newly planted seed beginning to sprout within her, growing in a direction only time will reveal.
"If I had to classify him alongside that unknown weapon," Gildark responds after a moment of deep reflection, "I would have no choice but to place him among the top hundred positions in the knightly hierarchy. Marco seems to control various elements with remarkable skill, and even Knight Julius claimed to have detected magical compatibility in him for two specific elements, which he masters masterfully."
The first thing that comes to mind is the knight. It's clear that not everyone can keep up with the speed of a bullet; it doesn't seem to be common, so it might appear that I'm stronger than I actually am.
"Therefore, I would position him in a range close to magical warriors," Gildark looks straight into my eyes. "However, he may encounter obstacles trying to surpass the ninetieth rank of the knights; although that last form of magic turns out to be much deadlier than it superficially appears."
Miklotov fixes his gaze on Gildark, as if asking for a more detailed explanation.
"My eyes grant me the ability to detect magical fluctuations with great precision," Gildark explains, pointing to the floor and the ceiling with an emphatic gesture. "The way Marco manipulates magic is refined and controlled, executing specific spells."
Then Gildark generates pressure with his mana.
"However, when he used that last attack, I could perceive several mana inflows scattered throughout the environment. His combined attacks were much more than simple improvisations; they seemed to have been meticulously planned in advance."
The revelation about Gildark's visual powers is something I was unaware of until now. Now, I can only wonder if he can also see the ominous miasma associated with the Witch's Cult.
If that were possible, it would mean that Gildark is also tainted by the machinations of the cult... and that would be a real shame.
Maybe I can inquire a bit more into this matter.
"Allow me to ask you something," I cautiously intervene. "Are you capable of seeing the miasma coming from the witch?"
Gildark directs his gaze towards me and observes me with a severe expression for a few seconds before slowly shaking his head.
"I don't have that ability to see the miasma," he finally responds. "But when I have fought against some followers of the cult, I can feel a dark presence in the surrounding atmosphere."
These words imply that he has ways to discern who possesses the miasma and who doesn't.
Fortunately, at this moment, my own miasma is under control within me. If it were to be revealed or I were to utter something inappropriate, Gildark would notice instantly, and everything would be over forever.
"I see," I comment with a subtle smile. "Indeed, those eyes of yours seem to be a great blessing. Allow me to tell you that I have undergone intensive training from two powerful spirits in the art of magic.
Even though it has only been for two months, you must not underestimate the skills that Beatrice and Puck have imparted to me.
While I speak, I gently slide my hands over Beatrice's head, caressing her delicately as I enjoy the comforting contact of her silky hair.
A half-truth escapes my lips because, although my progress in magic is accelerated by my scientific and engineering knowledge, I cannot deny that the invaluable guidance of Puck and Beatrice has greatly contributed to my ability to manipulate spells.
"However, controlling multiple elements is not an easy task," Miklotov says with a gleam in his eyes. "Forming a gate just two months ago undoubtedly makes you a prodigy, something that hasn't been seen in decades."
Miklotov persists in his eagerness to delve into this topic.
He seems to be looking for something specific in me, but I still cannot understand exactly what he is trying to discover.
With unwavering calmness, I respond evasively, "Although, if we talk about magical prowess, I acknowledge that I am far from standing out. However, I have good control over magical arts."
My response is closed and brief. I don't reveal more details until I unravel what his true purpose is in asking these seemingly innocent questions.
Suddenly, Gildark abruptly changes the course of the conversation towards Emilia. It's evident that he's trying to divert our attention to a different realm than the one previously explored.
However, the crucial point now is to discover his true hidden intentions behind that friendly smile and his natural expressions loaded with deep pain. His wise and aged voice unfolds with a cadence that seems to invite confidence.
"The speech delivered by Miss Emilia was a genuine marvel of eloquence," Gildark admits suddenly.
Emilia, surprised by this unexpected change in the topic of conversation, responds promptly and sincerely:
"We dedicated tireless hours of practice to perfect it. Marco and I crafted a masterful speech that reflects my deepest intentions," Emilia replies with a radiant smile, speaking in a calm and serene tone.
Miklotov leans slightly forward, causing Emilia to adopt a similar position in a futile attempt to stop him. However, due to the distance between them, her efforts prove futile.
"I humbly apologize for not doing anything during the altercation, Miss Emilia..."
Emilia shakes her head, her expression denoting determination rather than sadness.
"If you had intervened, you probably wouldn't have been able to face everyone. Somehow, your words helped me understand what I really wanted to do," Emilia declares, bowing in gratitude. "Thanks to you, I managed to take a crucial step that had been challenging for me."
Miklotov laughs approvingly at Emilia's initiative and courage. For him, it must be like witnessing the beginning of a young woman's journey towards maturity.
Emilia is destined to grow and develop during the three years of the elections, so it's crucial to seize every opportunity presented.
"It has been a pleasure to be able to help you," Miklotov responds with satisfaction. "Undoubtedly, all the candidates are exceptional in their own way."
Internally, I contemplate how dangerous it is to select someone solely based on what a magical stone dictate.
It's absurd to blindly trust it without considering other important aspects. Now it's about discovering who will be able to meet both their own and the people's expectations.
"Forgive my lack of courtesy, but I have a question," I say, looking directly into Miklotov eyes and then glancing at Gildark to discreetly signal him. "What exactly happened during the attack on the cult?"
Miklotov tight lips reveal some discomfort. He looks at Gildark, understanding the situation, and decides to leave the room.
Emilia seems surprised by his departure, but she remains calm. She is also aware that it's strange that the Imperial Knights haven't sent any assistance at any point.
"The kingdom should have at least provided assistance," I comment as I intertwine my hands, reflecting on how I will approach this delicate issue. "Multiple villages were massacred both inside and outside Roswaal's domains."
The moment to strike has arrived; I need to find some vulnerability among these wise men.
"As I mentioned earlier... Could it perhaps be a leak of information?" I suggest boldly, earning a surprised look from Emilia.
Then, she intervenes:
"But I wonder: Information about what exactly?"
Just as Emilia finishes speaking, her eyes widen, finally understanding the harsh reality of the attack.
Her countenance fades, and she seems to sink into deep sadness. However, I firmly take her hand, trying to instill strength and support.
"The list of the candidates," Emilia responds with a choked voice.
Upon this revelation, Miklotov, who has been silent until now, observing the scene, stands up and hands a letter to Emilia.
She takes the paper with trembling hands and presses it tightly against her chest. As she continues reading the contents of the letter, her face takes on a grim and worried look.
Without saying a word, Emilia passes the letter to me so that I can also read it.
The characters are written in ro-glyphs, demonstrating the level of knowledge required by those who sent this threatening missive.
"There will be consequences if they do not eliminate the half-demon as a candidate for the throne," the message reads initially.
Reading these words, I can already infer what really happened during that fateful attack: it was indirectly provoked by Emilia's actions and influence, as we had suspected previously.
I continue reading as the tension in the room increases even further:
"The half-demon must die; only then can we bring peace to this world."
The tone of the message changes dramatically; if it had been written by cultists, the usual demand would be for Emilia to undergo tests or something similar. However, this message goes beyond that.
As I progress in reading the letter, its content becomes increasingly unsettling:
"Her existence will cause the destruction of the world."
And to culminate with a shiver running down my spine, I find a final and threatening ultimatum:
"The arrival of the Witch of Envy."
The message begins by requesting Emilia's exile as a candidate for the throne and then evolves into demanding her death.
However, there is something strange and intriguing about all this; the author of the message seems to deviate slightly from their original intention as a simple fanatical cultist...
Petelgeuse mentioned his intentions to force Emilia to complete the trials.
The trials of Echidna?
If so, I can only imagine that the ultimate goal is to shatter Emilia's mind into a thousand pieces to invoke Satella.
Another possibility could be... the Seal's Gate.
According to Beatrice, Satella was sealed with a powerful spell in another dimension using a massive Shamak.
However, even while sealed, she managed to interfere in our world.
"We don't necessarily have to believe everything this letter says, it could be just an attempt to dissuade us," I comment cautiously.
Miklotov slightly arches his lips and nods while smiling.
"The real problem is that we don't know which group is behind all this," Miklotov states. "For xenophobic reasons, they decided to reveal information about the cult candidate and then attempt to assassinate her."
"But it's still strange... why would someone want to end her life?"
Miklotov seems to understand perfectly the conclusions I've reached. I place my reassuring hand on Emilia's trembling shoulder; she seems lost in her thoughts, and I can't blame her for that.
After all, I know very well that Emilia is a kind-hearted person through and through.
"Your existence is not the cause of these deaths. The problem lies with the psychopaths who lack reason," I respond with a soft and comforting voice.
Emilia nods, although I can see the weight of remorse embedded deep in her heart.
No matter how much she knows the truth, that guilt will always be present. It's not easy for someone with a noble heart to bear the responsibility for the deaths of hundreds of people.
But from my perspective, that's okay; what matters is how we face those feelings.
"My removal as a candidate won't stop this, even if things get much worse," Emilia says with a choked voice. "Right? You probably think that stepping down from the throne will prevent more human losses."
We both nod in silence, aware that the attack will only be directed at someone else if she resigns. Felt is likely the next target, or they might use this situation to incite hatred against all half-humans.
Uncovering the real intentions behind this group becomes our main mission.
If Roswaal is involved in all of this... then our options are limited.
I firmly hold Emilia's trembling hand. Beatrice also joins us, taking her place on Emilia's lap and holding her hand alongside mine.
"You've proven to be a beloved and noble person," Miklotov asserts as he stands up and extends his hand towards Emilia. "That's why I want to offer my support during this selection, although I regret to say that my movements are restricted."
They are trying to silence him. Surely, if Miklotov is doing his job properly, the rest of the wise men must be conspiring against him.
"The real culprit wasn't the one pointed out," Miklotov adds with a somber look. "The chosen scapegoat was my grandson, Mikael McMahon."
Now he reveals the true reason why he summoned us. Emilia looks at Miklotov and seems to want to apologize, but I squeeze her hand tightly to convey my support.
Miklotov understands our situation and nods in acknowledgment.
"It wasn't your fault, miss. This would have happened with or without your presence. My grandson's death is just a result of my poor decisions," Miklotov blames himself as he tries to console Emilia's sadness.
However, the reason he offers his support is revenge. Revenge is his driving force to fight alongside us, and I must fuel that engine.
No, I can't think like that.
I can't continue this way; everything will end up as it did before if I do.
There's nothing I can do to bring back who Miklotov lost, but if he wants to join us, it means he's someone important. Miklotov kneels before Emilia and takes her hand with determination.
"I, Miklotov McMahon, will give my full support to the candidate for the throne, Emilia."