Chapter 169: Who's Calling Me?
"Oh..."
Horne glanced at Monty, then nodded. Yes, Horne did know Solan Monty. Cloudspire Tower and the Black Tower may be bitter rivals, but at this level, their conflicts rarely escalate into actual war—the consequences are simply too dire. Unless one side is almost certain of annihilating the other, neither dares to act rashly. Their struggle is more about vying for dominance across various fields, with occasional skirmishes and friction. True life-and-death battles might not even happen once a year.
Sometimes, the mages of these two great factions even cooperate. In fact, they often know each other as well as their own colleagues.
Both Horne and Solan are ninth-level Archmages, so they have plenty of opportunities to interact. In fact, during one collaboration, Horne even owed Solan a favor—not too big, but not insignificant either.
"Archmage Horne, it’s truly an honor to meet you..." Monty’s face was nearly split with a grin. Originally, he’d only heard Horne’s name by chance, and his earlier greeting was pure merchant’s instinct—a gamble, really.
After all, losing the bet wouldn’t cost him anything, but if he won...
And to his surprise, he actually won the bet!
Monty might lack magical talent, but when it comes to reading people, he could run circles around Horne. Watching Horne’s reaction, Monty instantly guessed that the ninth-level Archmage must have some connection with his younger brother.
Sure enough, the usually stern-faced Archmage’s expression softened slightly upon hearing Monty’s identity, and he even exchanged a polite greeting: "How’s Solan doing?"
“Fortunately, fortunately. Last time I was back in Thousand Sail City, he kept mentioning you, saying your mastery of magic far surpasses his…” Monty was blatantly lying—everyone in Auckland knew that after Solan returned from the Azure Plane, he was destined to become a Title Archmage. Horne had only just advanced to ninth-tier this year; compared to Solan, he wasn’t even in the same league.
But then again, who doesn’t like a little flattery?
Especially when the one handing out the flattery is Solan’s own brother…
Horne spent nearly all his time on magical research, barely interacting with people. He was hopelessly unprepared for this kind of sugar-coated assault. As Monty poured on the praise, a faint, almost imperceptible smile crept onto Horne’s square-jawed face.
But even the most subtle smile couldn’t escape the eyes of an old fox like Monty. The moment he saw it, Monty knew his chance had come. He immediately put on a troubled expression and leaned in to ask quietly, “Archmage Horne, could I borrow a moment of your time?”
“Hm?” Horne glanced at Monty, puzzled at first, but after a moment’s thought, he nodded slightly and stepped aside with him. “Go ahead. What’s this about?”
“It’s like this, Archmage Horne. Matthew Merlin and I have a bit of a business dispute—he owes me three types of magical materials and still hasn’t delivered…”
“Oh?” Horne’s brow furrowed. Mages valued the spirit of contracts even more than merchants did. Hearing that Matthew Merlin had pulled such a stunt, his already poor impression of the man sank even lower.
“Honestly, I blame myself—I trusted him too much. I figured the Gilded Rose was such a big operation, surely they wouldn’t stiff me for three types of magical materials. But, well…” Monty shook his head as he spoke, looking for all the world like he’d genuinely suffered a loss.
“So you’re asking me to help you get those three magical materials back?”
“No, no, no…” Monty was startled—there was no way to get them back now, not with Vaughn’s Vault still slumbering in Four Seasons Gorge. Even if Horne stepped in, Matthew Merlin didn’t have the materials on hand. Monty quickly shook his head, forcing a helpless look. “Archmage Horne, what I mean is, could you help me get Matthew Merlin to sign a contract? I was too trusting, left it as a verbal agreement, didn’t even get a contract…”
He finished with another round of sighs and head-shaking, earning Horne’s genuine sympathy. Horne nodded crisply, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he signs a contract for you.”
“Thank you so much, Archmage Horne…” Monty thanked him profusely, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. Let’s see how Matthew Merlin gets out of this—this is a ninth-tier Archmage, on par with Solan. Even if you drag out old Saruman, it won’t help you now.
After agreeing to Monty’s request, Horne finally approached Matthew Merlin. He didn’t do anything, but the overwhelming magical aura he radiated made even Kadgar and Soth beside him struggle to breathe.
“Matthew Merlin, for someone your age to achieve this much in magic is no small feat. So I won’t make things too hard on you. I’ll give you one chance: if you can do what I ask, I’ll act like none of this ever happened. Otherwise…”
“What chance?”
“First, you’ll undo the Mana Shackles on Leon yourself. Second, you’ll sign a contract for those three magical materials with President Monty…” Horne paused for a moment. “But as punishment, I’ll place Mana Shackles on you as well. Three years from now, come to Cloudspire Tower and I’ll release you.”
“Huh?” Matthew was stunned. He understood the part about unlocking Leon’s Mana Shackles, even the punishment made sense—but what was the deal with Monty’s three magical materials?
Matthew glanced at Monty, then at Kadgar and Soth, not sure where to even begin with his questions.
“Uh, Merlin, President Rice sent us…”
“Oh…” With Kadgar’s words, Matthew suddenly understood.
No wonder the three of them showed up at the Gilded Rose as if it were planned—it all stemmed from the condition he’d given Kadgar earlier.
“What, you don’t want to agree?” Matthew’s hesitation made Horne frown again. This young mage really didn’t know when to yield. Horne thought his three conditions were as lenient as could be—Leon was his most valued disciple, and this upstart dared to shackle his magic. And with Mana Shackles, no less.
He’d only offered three years with Mana Shackles, plus three magical materials, out of respect for the young man’s talent. And yet he still dared to balk—did he really think Horne was that easy to deal with?
Looks like he needed to be taught a lesson…
With that thought, Horne stopped talking. He simply raised his staff, and instantly a gale whipped through the hall. Nine massive serpents, vivid and lifelike, roared as they lunged at Matthew Merlin…
It was the fourth-level spell, Wind Serpent…
But compared to William Merlin’s version, Horne’s Wind Serpent was a spell from another world. Not only were there nine serpents, but the power behind them was on a whole different level. When William Merlin cast it before, Matthew hadn’t even flinched. But now, facing Horne, he felt immense pressure. As the howling wind surged, he barely managed to cast Frost Armor before the nine Wind Serpents descended. With a crisp crack, his freshly conjured armor was instantly covered in a web of fine fractures…
“Impressive…” Matthew couldn’t help but be secretly amazed. This Frost Armor had been reconfigured with mana circuitry, its defense at least twice that of a normal Frost Armor. Yet in front of these nine Wind Serpents, it was no different from the regular kind—one twist and it was on the verge of shattering…
“You dare resist!” Horne sneered at the Frost Armor. Power nearing that of a Title Archmage—how could a twenty-something mage hope to withstand it? He gripped his staff, pouring in vast magic. The gem at its tip blazed with dazzling light.
All nine Wind Serpents roared in unison, unleashing a terrifying force that instantly shredded the already-cracked Frost Armor.
“Well, Matthew Merlin, aren’t you going to beg for mercy? You realize, if I push my magic one more time, you’ll end up like that Frost Armor—utterly destroyed…”
Matthew just smiled, as if he hadn’t even noticed the nine Wind Serpents.
Because at that moment, Matthew heard footsteps coming from the second floor…
“Damn…” Sure enough, just as Matthew let out a laugh, Saruman’s thin, slightly frail figure rushed down the stairs. “Horne, do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
“Saruman?” Horne’s movements slowed, and he met Saruman’s gaze without flinching. “Are you here to protect Matthew Merlin?”
“I’m asking you, Horne, do you even know what you’re doing?” Saruman was so angry his eyebrows nearly stood on end. Horne was always more trouble than help—Master had just managed to get Merlin into the Order of the Arcane Hand, and now, fresh back from the Pale Plane, Horne was about to pulverize him with Wind Serpents.
“Saruman, don’t think you can order me around just because you’re Lord Joey’s disciple. Who do you think you are?” But Horne was no Hog. Hog, being new at Cloudspire Tower, barely had a voice in front of Saruman. Horne, though, was the head of the Magic Department; even with Saruman’s status as Star Sage Joey’s disciple, there was no way he’d make the department head bow.
“I…” Horne’s words nearly made Saruman choke with fury, but for the moment, he couldn’t think of a proper retort.
“Enough, Saruman. If you know what’s good for you, step aside. With your status, you don’t have the right to order me around. This Matthew Merlin used Mana Shackles to bind Leon’s magic. As punishment, he’ll wear Mana Shackles for three years. That’s fair…” Horne’s gaze returned to Matthew. “Matthew Merlin, I’ve already given you a chance. Too bad you didn’t appreciate it. Unless Lord Joey himself shows up, no one can save you today!”
With those words, Horne gripped his staff again. The gale that had just subsided erupted once more, whipping up a storm inside the Gilded Rose’s hall.
But just then, footsteps sounded again from the second floor.
And with the footsteps came a voice.
“Who’s calling me?”
******