When A Mage Revolts

Approximately a few days later.

At Havenwright, in the magnificent main hall of the palace.

"Dirty cultists, what have you done to the king?"

Grant opened his mouth to speak, his face so cold it was as though he had just been fished out of a frozen lake. Not far before him, a few fellows, dressed in strange garments, had fallen on the ground; most of them had had their chests pierced through with silks of light and died. There was only an old man left, leaning over and clutching the wound on his stomach, heaving his last breaths.

Within the main hall, other than them and Grant, there were also many shamans. The shamans all watched the few men who had fallen to the ground; the sense of disgust in their eyes was apparent.

"Nothing much, we have only imparted onto His Majesty some of the true meanings of the goddess." However, as the last survivor, the wounded old man only raised his head and chuckled at Grant, answering this.

"Enough! There is only one supreme god in this world." A shaman on the side immediately retorted in a loud voice, "Ignorant alien, not only have you willingly abandoned yourselves and pursued the banshees of the deep seas, you have even attempted to meddle in the domain of god, this is absolutely a sin that even you cannot atone even with death!"

The old man, however, became like a fighting rooster in a cage that had just been opened, and suddenly perked up, widening his eyes as he spoke, "A bunch of sinners who believe in the filthy light, dare vilify the goddess? I tell you, one day, the judgment of the goddess will come upon all your heads!"

"What filthy light? How dare you slander the god! He will surely punish you!"

"Do you think I am afraid? The goddess watches over every one of us, and I, even if I die for the sake of carrying out the will of the goddess, my soul will be pure, and not filthy like you who chase after cultist teachings."

"You…"

The old man closed his eyes, and crossed both arms over his chest, saying devoutly, "Everything according to the will of the goddess."

A few of the younger shamans standing on the side were so angry, their faces were almost contorted out of shape.

Grant, however, did not lose himself and did not show any interest in participating in this debate on religions. He simply conjured up another beam of light silks and pierced it through the old man’s shoulder.

For a moment, with a shriek, the old man held onto his shoulder and fell to the ground in pain.

"Undo the evil magic you have applied onto the king, or else, we will ensure that you wish you were dead," There was a fury that was difficult to control in his voice, yet, very obviously, the reason for Grant’s anger was different from that of the young shamans’.

"I cannot undo it," The old man endured the pain, and lifted his head to speak, "After receiving the calling of the goddess, His Majesty has obtained the peace of the soul. No one can take this peace again."

Grant closed his eyes, shaking his head.

With the final beam of light silk flying through, a small hole was added to the heart of the old man, and thus, his life came to a complete end. The shamans on the scene all had on different expressions, and looking at the corpses of these ‘cultists’, finally turned their heads away in disgust, not wishing to take another glimpse.

"Your Highness the Pope, the timing of these cultists’ appearance is not ordinary," An old bishop opened his mouth to speak, "Right as the crusade was at the most crucial point, they appeared. Don’t you feel that all this is a bit too much of a coincidence?"

Grant turned his head.

"Do you mean… That the Academy of Magic have already joined forces with these cultists from across the sea?"

"It’s very possible," The bishop spoke slowly, "In actual fact, in the battle at the Rock City, there was sorcery not unlike the deep sea banshees’."

Hearing this, Grant could not help but furrow his brows, revealing a troubled expression.

At the most crucial moment of the crusade, they had been forced to retreat because of internal disturbances. All their prior efforts had been wasted, and he was not feeling very happy at this moment.

The fury that surged up in his heart made him really want to go out to sea right away and destroy all the cultists!

However, finally, he gradually calmed down.

"Once this matter spreads out, it will definitely be used by the nobles and the royalty as material for their articles. We must solve the sorcery cast upon the king’s body."

The bishop nodded his head upon hearing that: "But of course."

Grant took a deep breath and swept his gaze over everyone in the main hall. He ended up saying nothing, turning around and leaving the place with quick footsteps, disappearing from everyone’s view. The shamans watched his retreating back and kept quiet for the moment. They had in their eyes, other than the usual respect and devoutness, some fear and suspicion.

At the same time.

On the other side of the great land, Benjamin had returned to the Academy of Magic, and could finally sit in the comfort of the sofa in his director’s room. He could not help but stretch lazily.

"Finally… Finally, some rest."

Varys stood in the director’s room, and helplessly shook his head when he saw this.

"Honorable director, we have just come back to the academy, there is much to be done." He opened up the small booklet in his hands, and spoke slowly, "In this aid war in Icor, the academy has sent out a hundred and twenty-seven mages, and seven hundred and twenty-five students. After multiple battles, we have lost two hundred and eleven men, and most of them were only students. I think this is a very cruel reality to the entire academy."

Hearing this, Benjamin could only become solemn once again, and stood up from the sofa, sighing.

Of course, he knew what this meant.

The Academy of Magic was a place to nurture mages. It was a school, but after only a year of establishment, before their first batch of students had graduated, about one-tenth of their students had been killed. Luckily for them, there was no education department in this world. Otherwise, on the very next day, this academy of theirs would have been sealed up cleanly by swarms of officers.

The mortality rate in this world was not as low as the modern civilization but under such circumstances… They still needed to be accountable to the students, as well as to the outside world, or else the academy’s reputation and their future progression would be affected.

"Compile a list of names of the people sacrificed. At the opening ceremony next semester, we need a memorial service." Benjamin said in a heavy voice, and after some thought, added, "Right, don’t forget to pass the name list to Icor. The death compensation must come from the pockets of the Icor officials."

Varys nodded. "Of course."

Benjamin patted his shoulder, saying. "Alright, if there’s nothing else, you should go back and rest too. There’s another month before the holidays are over. These matters can be dealt with after a few days."

"Then… About this issue of sending aid to Icor, don’t we need to make an announcement to the outside world?" Varys, however, did not hurry to leave, and asked, "It is best that we clarify things, that this action was not to gain some sort of advantage and definitely not to sell the lives of the students as cannon fodder. Otherwise, this might scare off some of the potential students."

"What is there to explain, we fought for the good of all mages," Benjamin said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"But there might still be people who feel that the academy takes the lives of our students in vain, and therefore they would not dare to enroll?" Varys put up his hands helplessly, saying this.

"Those people who are afraid of death, why would we want them?" Benjamin gave a cold scoff, with a grave look on his face, "Entering the academy and becoming a mage, meant that one day they would stand upon the battlefield against the Church. During the aid for Icor, you have also seen many free mages who ‘stayed out of it’, yes? Hiding deep in the forests of the mountains, covering their ears and therefore thinking that the Church would not seek them out, do you yearn for such a life?"

Varys closed up his booklet, shaking his head.

"Then… If the sacrifices this time could screen off all the self-deceiving cowards, then what is the use of clarification?" Benjamin walked to the window, watching the students come and go on the sidewalks, saying slowly, "We nurture the elite, not trash."

Hearing this, Varys did not speak any further and nodded in agreement before turning to leave the director’s room.