Chapter 162

Nazariu hesitated briefly.

If he cast magic here and now, what were the odds of defeating Theo and escaping unscathed?

However—

“I wouldn’t suggest getting any funny ideas.”

Before Nazariu could even attempt anything, the blade pressed against his neck dug deeper.

Drip.

A thin stream of crimson trickled down the blade’s edge, a stark warning.

In that moment, Nazariu realized Theo wasn’t bluffing.

He wasn’t simply aiming to capture; if Nazariu became a hindrance, Theo wouldn’t hesitate to eliminate him.

“Well, it’s not the big catch I was hoping for, but I suppose this will suffice. Someone like you shouldn’t be overlooked entirely.”

Muttering incomprehensibly to himself, Theo watched as Nazariu released his staff and slowly raised both hands above his head.

“I surrender. Just… try to make it as painless as possible.”

“What…? Did I hear that right, or are my ears playing tricks on me?”

“You heard correctly. We captured the heir of the Magic Tower.”

“Why the hell is the Magic Tower’s heir even here?!”

Selpherd stared at the two “packages” Theo’s group had brought back, utterly stunned as the truth sunk in.

To him, the entire situation was absurd.

Theo merely shrugged.

“Don’t look at us. We just happened to run into him. My guess? He was planning some kind of attack in the North.”

Selpherd massaged his temples between his thumb and forefinger before asking, “Any chance you got the wrong guy?”

“None. Black Snow has already confirmed it.”

“Black Snow? So, they were already aware and keeping tabs on him?”

“Yes.”

“...You didn’t mess up Black Snow’s operation, did you?”

Conflicts over jurisdiction between different units were not uncommon during field operations.

If Theo’s actions had interfered with Black Snow’s plans for the Magic Tower’s heir, it could spark a political clash between the two factions.

Although the White Dragon Knights of the frontlines and Black Snow in the shadows were supposed to complement each other, their interpersonal relationships were far from harmonious.

“Oh, come on, that’s…”

“That’s… what?”

“Well, that’s for you to smooth over, Senior.”

“What?!”

Selpherd suddenly realized that Theo had acted knowing full well what he was doing—and that it could very well lead to trouble.

If this went wrong, they’d all be facing a reprimand from Captain Julius.

Selpherd was about to scold Theo when the door of the café they had rented swung open with a loud bang.

SLAM!

“Theo Ragnar! I know you’re in here! Come out, now!”

The heavy footsteps of someone furious filled the air.

Selpherd grimaced as he recognized the leader of the group storming in—Cleve, one of the only eight elite Musal in Black Snow.

“Hey! Deung Ryong hasn’t even returned yet! What the hell are you thinking—”

Selpherd whipped his head around to where Theo had been standing, but…

“He’s already gone. Said he’d leave the clean-up to us.”

Arin chuckled bitterly, shaking her head in exasperation.

Selpherd’s expression twisted into a grimace.

Once again, his insufferably talented junior had left him to handle the fallout.

***

As Theo stepped into the private room at the back of the café, he found Wellington, who was watching over Nazariu and Jerima, scratching his cheek with his finger.

“Just now, I thought I heard some yelling outside.”

“It’s fine. I trust Senior Selpherd to handle it.”

Theo’s mischievous grin was met with a sigh from Wellington.

“Are you sure about this? Black Snow isn’t the kind of organization to let their prey be taken so easily without retaliation.”

“What can we do? At the end of the day, it’s us who caught them.”

“...Suit yourself. But I can already tell Master’s going to have a headache over this.”

Wellington had felt uneasy ever since Theo first reached out to Black Snow’s agents.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Black Snow likely divulged Nazariu’s location, assuming Theo—being half-aligned with their faction—would assist them.

But Theo had shattered their expectations, capturing Nazariu for himself.

“And he did it without much damage, either. Clean, precise. Where did he even learn these anti-mage combat strategies…?”

Wellington couldn’t help but find Theo increasingly intimidating.

What didn’t this young man know?

‘I’m sorry.’

A part of him silently offered condolences to the Black Snow agents, who were probably being severely reprimanded by their superiors right now.

Meanwhile—

“Are they seriously saying that this young Ragnar orchestrated all of this?”

Jerima, overhearing the conversation, was in utter disbelief.

If it were true, then the Star of David, the pride of the Magic Tower, had been outmaneuvered by a mere sixteen-year-old.

Was this some elaborate psychological ploy to shake their morale?

But judging by the atmosphere and the yelling outside, it didn’t seem like a bluff.

More than anything, even Wellington, regarded as Nazariu’s equal, appeared to defer to Theo.

It was clear the rumors were true—Theo Ragnar wasn’t just a rising star of the North; he was already the undisputed center of its future leadership.

And perhaps even more unsettling, Nazariu himself remained unbothered, as though he had expected this outcome all along.

‘No doubt about it. The Tower Master must have planned for this capture from the start.’

Nazariu’s relaxed demeanor suddenly made sense. Shopping in busy streets, deliberately drawing Black Snow’s attention—there had been a purpose behind it all, a purpose even Jerima hadn’t been privy to.

‘What is everyone scheming?’

Jerima refrained from questioning Nazariu directly, trusting the cunning mind behind that carefree mask to navigate the situation wisely.

But one thing was certain—Theo Ragnar wasn’t an opponent to take lightly.

“Where’s the grimoire? You have it, don’t you?”

Theo’s sudden question caught Nazariu off guard.

The mage, who had been smiling smugly, involuntarily twitched an eyebrow.

It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Theo noticed.

Smirk.

A grin spread across Theo’s lips.

A quick feint, and it worked far better than expected.

“As I thought.”

“What strange nonsense are you talking about? What’s next? Planning to use me as a hostage in negotiations with Winterler? Or leverage me to drag the Magic Tower into the Northern War?”

“The problem is where the grimoire is. I searched your belongings, but it’s nowhere to be found.”

“I’ll tell you one thing. My grandfather, the Tower Master, is as strict as they come about separating personal and professional matters. Negotiating with him won’t be easy.”

“So you have no intention of talking?”

“But I’m more than willing to cooperate with your interrogation. My life is precious, after all. Go ahead and bring your superior.”

“Torture probably wouldn’t work on you anyway.”

Their exchange looped without progressing, neither side truly engaging.

But Theo could tell Nazariu wouldn’t cooperate willingly, and Nazariu, in turn, realized Theo wasn’t someone to be underestimated.

‘How does he even know about the grimoire? The royal vault’s location was a secret, even within the Magic Tower.’

The vault’s most valuable information had only been obtained through the Tower’s connection to the emperor’s most beloved empress—a member of their faction.

Yet somehow, Ragnar knew.

In Nazariu’s mind, Ragnar’s threat level skyrocketed from A-rank to S+.

“There was no time to stash the grimoire elsewhere. It must still be here.”

Theo’s sharp gaze cut through Nazariu’s facade, making him tense unconsciously.

Still, Nazariu thought he could maintain the illusion. At least outwardly, Paracelsus looked like nothing more than an ordinary orb.

“This is it.”

Theo suddenly pulled Paracelsus out of the confiscated belongings with unnerving precision.

Both Nazariu and Jerima were internally shocked.

‘How did he know?!’

‘That’s right, Lodbrok?’

“Indeed. The stench of consumed grimoires is overwhelming. Why would anyone create such a thing? Disgusting.”

Without Lodbrok’s assistance, Theo might never have found it.

‘An artifact that has devoured not just Belphegor’s Grimoire, but countless others?’

Lodbrok had called Paracelsus a “Demonic Source Code Complex.”

“It’s a patchwork of codes layered over a grand design. With its algorithm, it continuously simulates and learns, essentially an advanced artificial intelligence.”

Theo silently marveled at the explanation.

“At this stage, it likely has its own judgment and intent. Thankfully, it hasn’t developed full free will yet, but it’s close to the critical point.”

Theo’s thoughts raced.

‘If it’s that advanced, it’s nearly a living entity.’

Even with his past life’s memories, Theo couldn’t pinpoint what the Magic Tower was trying to achieve. But one thing was certain—the faint blue glow emanating from Paracelsus was dangerous.

Theo spent a long time experimenting with it, pouring in mana, chanting activation phrases, and even attempting to read its thoughts.

Nothing worked.

[Skill activation failed for unknown reasons.]

Even Lodbrok was impressed.

“They’ve likely used quantum entanglement encryption. This is beyond what even dragons can easily achieve. Humans… I’m impressed.”

“Any way to unlock it?”

“Not immediately. Forcing it open could trigger an explosion. If that happens…”

“We’re finished.”

“Not even I could save you.”

With the quest’s completion within reach, Theo hesitated. Could he risk it?

Lodbrok continued, “Homunculi are exceptionally delicate constructs. They synthesize and process vast amounts of information, making them extraordinary yet dangerously unstable—skirting the edge of godhood itself.”

Theo clenched his jaw.

Selpherd and Arin might be holding off Cleve for now, but they wouldn’t last long. If Cleve broke through, Paracelsus would be taken, along with any clues to restoring Belphegor’s Grimoire.

And yet, Theo felt an unshakable conviction.

He had to decode this.

A homunculus that had consumed demonic grimoires—who knew if the Magic Tower was trying to revive a demon itself?

Theo’s glare locked onto Nazariu, who returned it with a smug grin, as if mocking his struggle.

‘If it’s this sensitive to information, what happens if I introduce something even more complex?’

“Lodbrok, you said this thing is an AI capable of self-learning?”

“Correct.”

“Then what if I feed it my blood?”

“Your blood? Wait… Ah!”

“My blood contains not only ancient dragon DNA but also the unique lineage of Ragnar. If this thing’s consumed demonic codes, dumping dragon data into it might destabilize it entirely.”

Mixing red paint with blue creates green.

Similarly, Theo intended to overwrite Paracelsus’s demonic identity with the essence of a dragon.

“I might even be able to claim ownership by rewriting its code.”

“And if you fail?”

“Then I’ll salvage Belphegor from the wreckage. That much should be easy.”

Theo grinned.

“If I can’t have it, neither can they.”

“You’re ruthless.”

“I’m Ragnar.”

“Magnificent!”

Pulling out Death Beat, Theo slashed his thumb, letting his blood drip onto Paracelsus.

Rumble!

The once-dormant black orb quivered violently before extending a grotesque, serrated tongue to lap up the blood.

“New data detected. Analyzing. Identified as extinct ancient dragon DNA. Assigning value: SSS+++…”

The game was far from over.