The Player Hides His Past

Chapter 618. The Final Day

On the final day of the special week, the atmosphere in the Magic Tower was still tense.

Perhaps it was because of the news that had been circulating.

Here in the Land of Anomalies, Seoul, and across the Arcana Continent, countless incidents and accidents had occurred in both worlds.

Senior Mage of Flame Magic, Bensch William, broke the silence.

“Vangrit, do you really need to wear such a sour expression on the morning of the last day of the special week? Of course, I understand how you feel, but wasn’t it because of injuries that we couldn’t fulfill our duties?”

It was a rare sight:

Senior Bensch, known for his sharp demeanor, was comforting someone.

The sight of the two mages strolling through the Tower and talking was enough to draw the attention of others.

But Vangrit, the subject of the conversation, couldn’t help but respond incredulously.

“Excuse me, Senior Bensch.”

“Yes, I’m right here, listening carefully.”

“You… are you even self-aware?”

Are you a split personality or something?!

Of course, Vangrit expressed this thought in a much more tactful way.

He had to, considering the glances and murmurs coming from around them.

“Senior Bensch is certainly dependable, isn’t he?”

“He’s truly impressive. Unlike Senior Vangrit, of course.”

“He feels like a friend we can hang out with.”

“Yes, Senior Vangrit definitely has an endearing side to him.”

They have no idea what they’re talking about!

-“Vangrit, look at this. My magic is finally returning!”

-“I’m so restless I feel like I’ll die if I stay still. So… let’s go get a snack from the Garden?”

-“Vangrit, I know you’re awake. I can hear you. Just admit it.”

Memories of being tormented by Bensch during their convalescence came flooding back. Even while reading spellbooks or during the rare outings allowed during the special week, Bensch never stopped.

And now, to act all mature and magnanimous after I sighed once?

When Vangrit questioned him, Bensch replied in his typical tone.

“Self-aware? Of course, I am. I, Bensch William, am fully aware of how important today is! That’s why we’re hurrying this morning, aren’t we?”

“Ah, sure. If you say so.”

He’s going to drive me insane.

Vangrit managed to suppress his rising frustration.

Clearly, there was no malice in Bensch’s actions.

And maybe that sincerity made it scarier.

Still, reacting rashly with so many eyes on them would only hurt him.

Click.

As Vangrit stepped into the Crystal Hall, Bensch eagerly followed.

Vangrit couldn’t help but look at him, utterly dumbfounded.

…I really wish everyone could see this expression.

“This is truly moving, isn’t it, Vangrit? Look at all the seniors here to welcome us back. In the history of the Magic Tower, has any senior mage received such an honor?”

How about we make a bet? Whoever loses gets demoted to Assistant Mage.

Both had to go through the Healing Division’s chambers for clearance, which delayed their arrival at the Crystal Hall.

More importantly—

“Ow.”

Vangrit elbowed Bensch in the side.

“This is embarrassing, so could you tone it down? A welcome? As if the seniors of the Amethyst Hall would actually celebrate us. You’ve been racking up bad karma these past few days, haven’t you?”

“Karma? Me?”

“You were so puffed up and full of yourself that it made me cringe just watching.”

Bensch had confidently lectured the Ghosts of the Amethyst Hall—who knew nothing of post-Cataclysm knowledge—about the Anomaly, quoting teachings with an air of superiority.

Standing next to him, I felt my face flush with secondhand embarrassment.

To be fair, Bensch’s words were just recitations.

Even Bensch didn’t fully grasp the concept of the Anomaly; he had merely parroted Chief Lee’s lessons verbatim.

Thinking back, it still made my skin crawl.

-“I didn’t realize how profound Chief Lee’s words were at the time…”

When Senior Bensch repeated them, they sounded pompous, pretentious, and abstract.

It’s no wonder Bensch still felt like a walking contradiction.

“What’s wrong with it? I followed Chief Lee’s words to the letter. Did I somehow come across as strange? I memorized those lines perfectly…”

Enough.

Just let it go in one ear and out the other.

Vangrit tried to ignore him and looked around at the Crystal Hall’s audience.

The gathering included twenty senior mages, the Ghosts of the Amethyst Hall from the previous generation, and adventurers from the Holy War Alliance who were now familiar faces.

Bensch leaned in to whisper again, unable to resist.

“Is it because it’s the final day? There are so many people here.”

At the conclusion of the special week, the Magic Tower’s protocol dictated that Chief Lee would traditionally deliver a speech.

However—

Vangrit involuntarily clenched his fists.

Chief Lee…

The Magic Tower had poured all its resources into combating the Evil Dragons and demons stirred by the Anomalous malice.

As a result, the mages only knew what had happened on the Arcana Continent through the adventurers present.

Chief Lee must not be in any condition to stand at the podium.

Long or short,

the situation could be summarized in a single sentence:

Chief Lee had lost his radiant silver hair.

Of course, no one present—not even Vangrit—knew what that phenomenon signified.

But one thing was clear:

The figure approaching the podium wasn’t Chief Lee.

“You’re all gathered, I see.”

Tower Master Marcelo’s voice was as steady as ever.

Neither too loud nor too soft,

neither too bright nor too grim.

Marcelo stood at the podium and began speaking calmly.

“Let us begin the final review of this special week.”

His words struck a chord in the hearts of everyone watching.

Even though Chief Lee was absent and severely wounded, time moved on, and someone had to fill his void.

Marcelo continued, his tone measured and unwavering.

“It has been confirmed that thirteen evil dragons perished in battle. Their sacrifice has provided immense nourishment—not only for Seoul and the Arcana Continent but also for all of you gathered here. As Tower Master, I extend my deepest condolences for their loss.”

The Dragon & Magic War had left its mark.

Even if the world celebrated its victory, the Magic Tower did not allow itself to be deceived. They fully understood and honored the final resolution of the rulers of all creation, ensuring that their sacrifices were not in vain.

“In addition, the Evil Eyes that appeared across the adventurers’ world and the Arcana Continent have now completely vanished. Neither magic nor science has been able to identify their traces.”

This might be the most significant change since the Cataclysm.

The cause was apparent to everyone.

The maws of Behemoth, the bridge linking the Arcana Continent and the Demon World, had been obliterated.

“Furthermore, based on reports from the Holy War Alliance, the First Throne’s Demon King, Bael, has fled to the Demon World. The conclusion is clear: the Demon World can no longer exert the same overwhelming influence over the Arcana Continent and reality as it once did.”

At Marcelo’s words, the players in the Crystal Hall clenched their fists.

The Evil Eyes had closed, the connection to the Demon World had been severed, and even the King of Demons had turned tail and fled.

Hisagi murmured softly,

“Did we… actually accomplish something?”

Beside him, Nam Taemin remained silent.

What did we even do?

The thought lingered in his mind.

But he didn’t say it aloud.

The Commander wouldn’t have appreciated hearing such words.

“However, the threat posed by the Cataclysm is far from over.”

Marcelo, who had tirelessly pursued knowledge of the Anomaly, needed no one else to confirm what he already knew. Like the players, he had reviewed the latest urgent updates firsthand.

A new Hidden Piece is making its way to you.

“Now that the connection to the Demon World has been severed, the factions that had gone into hiding to avoid demons have begun to resurface. Those who once lurked in molten lava, deep seas, or perilous ruins will gradually begin to make their presence known again.”

From the perspective of the Arcana Chronicle, this was a balance patch.

Nam Cheolmin, as an analyst, tried to read between the lines of Marcelo’s warning.

The opponent he was analyzing, of course, was—

Even in this situation, you’re still doing your job.

Raymond Sean.

What an inhuman level of composure you have.

The massive “demon” content had only left breadcrumbs for its reappearance, but for now, it seemed somewhat resolved.

In many ways, the past wasn’t so different from the present.

The Arcana Chronicle’s overwhelming popularity had always stemmed from its constant stream of updates, leaving no gaps.

Marcelo’s warning about a resurgence of “presence” couldn’t be overlooked.

“They deliberately avoided the demons. That fact alone proves their exceptional intelligence and instinct. From now on, the Holy War Alliance must remain vigilant against these emerging forces while continuing to hunt the demons still hiding in both the Arcana Continent and reality.”

Marcelo’s words reminded everyone once again:

It’s not over yet.

Indeed, it wasn’t.

Bael hadn’t been defeated. The Primordial Evil still extended its claws over the Arcana Continent.

And the Nine Thrones, apart from Bael, remained intact.

Marcelo warned them.

“The Thrones, by their anomalous nature, have no need to use the maws of Behemoth. Should they obtain the necessary sacrifices, they can exploit weaknesses, just as the Ninth Throne’s Demon King, Paimon, did.”

The world outside the Tower was drunk on victory.

But the atmosphere within the Tower was starkly different.

This wasn’t the end.

It was merely the beginning of something new.

Every shred of evidence pointed to that undeniable truth.

No one dared to speak lightly.

Even Marcelo, standing on the podium, remained silent.

‘The Lord.’

He recalled what he once heard from Kudhanax, the Earth Dragon, during a visit to the Tower.

“Your radiant silver hair still makes my heart race, my Lord Claudi. Meeting you here again is always a privilege for this old dragon.”

Silver hair—

It was the very symbol of the Claudi family.

That’s why Marcelo couldn’t help but worry.

‘Could it be… that the Lord’s connection to the Claudi lineage…’

Was severed?

The reason for this suspicion was simple.

Marcelo had used magic to delve into the Holy War Alliance’s memories, and within those recollections, he discovered inexplicable gaps.

As mentioned earlier, the Thrones required specific conditions—sacrifices—to manifest. While Behemoth’s maws previously acted as a conduit to ease these requirements…

‘They were destroyed when they couldn’t withstand the strain of Bael’s arm.’

This meant that Bael had sacrificed a significant portion of the Demon World to manifest in the Arcana Continent, albeit as a grotesque mass of flesh. No matter how incomprehensible such an existence was…

‘That gamble must have been a calculated risk for Bael.’

And yet, Bael’s actions remained incomprehensible.

Swallowed in an abyss of endless darkness, Bael failed to reveal his motives before opening the gate to the Demon World and fleeing of his own accord.

Marcelo had not overlooked this enigma.

‘Something happened within that darkness.’

Something beyond understanding—

Something between the Lord and Bael.

If Bael paid the price through sacrifice, then the Lord must have also paid a cost.

Marcelo speculated in silence.

‘If that cost was the essence of Claudi’s authority…?’

The loss of the Lord’s silver hair…

It was a fleeting thought.

In the very moment Marcelo stood silent on the podium, he heard it.

Ttogak.

An all-too-familiar silhouette entered his vision.

“!!!”

From Emerald Hall, every gaze widened in shock.

For good reason.

Flowing, silver hair cascading down his back.

A figure unchanged from the norm.

Hoyeol had stepped onto the podium.

But… doesn’t his hair look a little dry?