Magician in Type-Moon

Page 573

For democrats, this would be tantamount to completely erasing the scandal and political risk of "the monarch's daughter murdering the minister's student".

As for the neutrals—the moment they entrusted their voting rights to Aozaki Touko, they had already given up their obsession with manipulating the outcome. They had no need to win.

This is currently the only solution that can simultaneously satisfy the bottom lines of all three parties.

At that moment, the conference room fell silent. A huge, unresolved possibility hung in the air.

Until Inole burst out laughing.

"I didn't expect you to play your cards like that." She shrugged, her tone revealing a hint of admiration.

The monarch of the Creation Department, as always, stands on the edge of the rules, yet does not inspire any sense of danger.

She was different from Magdana's aggressive oppression, and also different from Rufreus's disguised, dagger-like nature—

She was an observer, yet she always managed to influence the situation.

“However,” she smiled and shook her head, “I’m still very curious—who exactly is the accomplice?”

"Regarding this," the Second Prince said calmly, "I think my brother will tell the people who need to be told."

This vague yet firm answer left plenty of room for imagination in the room.

"Who should we tell?" Inola repeated softly, giving a cryptic smile.

At this moment, Magdana, who had been silent all along, suddenly asked a question, his voice as clear and sharp as ever.

"Speaking of which—what are your plans to do with Hartres's spell?"

The air suddenly became tense.

“According to your own words,” Magdana stared at the Second, his tone devoid of emotion, “that spell could be activated at any moment, right?”

“Once it’s started, you can never ‘pretend this meeting never happened,’ right?”

His question was like a thin blade, subtly cutting into the newly established structure of compromise.

"So—my friend, in order to stop this, is infiltrating the spirit tomb Albion."

"El-Melloi II said in a deep voice."

His words struck like a hammer, sending forth a new wave of shockwaves.

“...that...Matou family...magician…”

Rufreus repeated in a low voice, his cane striking the floor heavily with a dull thud.

In an instant, silence froze like air.

"This means he's trying to win over Albion?!"

Olga Marie's eyes widened. "But didn't you just say that Hartles was going to hold a ceremony in the ancient heart? How could he have already arrived there!"

This question is perfectly reasonable.

Albion is a labyrinth, a misalignment of spiritual veins, an overlap of time and space.

Who can sneak into the "ancient heart" undetected? And how can one proceed amidst the numerous mechanisms, spells, and protective barriers?

Therefore, the Second Emperor chose to be honest.

He could not and did not want to conceal that person's actions.

"He has already—infiltrated near the ancient heart."

A single sentence was enough to shake the room around the conference table once again.

"oops."

Hana no Ryori, who had been listening quietly, chuckled softly.

"That gentleman is still the same as ever, he doesn't know what 'fear' is."

Her voice was soft and low-pitched, yet it was impossible to tell whether it was calm admiration or gentle self-deprecation.

El-Melloi II looked at her—

He couldn't fathom the direction of her heart.

She had just revealed that her brother, Kuro, was actually Hartres, and then publicly announced his death. At this moment, was she suppressing her emotions, or had she quietly transformed her grief and anger into something else entirely?

"However, you mean..."

She tilted her head slightly. "That gentleman, can he really stop Dr. Hartracey?"

"of course can."

The Second Prince answered without hesitation.

This is not trust, but certainty.

It is an acknowledgment of the intuition and judgment that man honed in the "land of no light".

"If it were him..."

Inole nodded slowly, as if recalling something from a long time ago.

Then, she turned her head and looked at Magdana sitting next to her.

“Little brother Magdana, you didn’t intend to withdraw your decision to give the voting rights to Meastia, did you?”

“Of course, Ms. Inolay.”

Magdana smiled, his brows remaining perfectly still.

He treats this meeting like a game; he'll feel bad if he loses, but he'll never panic.

"Then, thirty minutes."

Inola raised her finger and made a decision.

She took out an elegantly designed silver pocket watch from her bosom and gently placed it on the round table.

The pocket watch cover was opened, and the hands ticked slowly.

"Since you say that 'Masterpiece' Matou Ike has arrived nearby, then it shouldn't take more than two hours for him to stop the success or failure of the spell, right?"

She glanced at El-Melloi II, a hint of amusement flashing in her eyes.

This is the buffer time.

It was also the last breath before the resolution was made.

"...There is no reason for us to make concessions on our own..."

Rufreus spoke coldly, still unwilling to back down.

"Hey, hey."

Inole turned to look at him and smiled slightly.

“Mr. Euryphus of the Conjuration Department, the El-Melloi faction has already declared their ‘give up.’ Let’s both stop acting rashly and needlessly.”

She blinked, as if trying to persuade her, yet also as if mocking her.

The two oldest monarchs stood facing each other in the conference room, their auras clashing, and even time seemed to stand still.

Their very existence represents the oldest crystallization of power within the "Academy".

It makes one wonder if what flows in their veins is not blood, but a golden essence extracted from wisdom and domination.

but--

"Boom!"

The air suddenly jolted.

At the very moment when everyone was weighing their gains and losses and calculating the timing—

The flow of magic suddenly changed.

Chapter 612 Fraud (4k)

At the very moment when the flow of magic underwent a dramatic change.

El-Melloi II's body trembled slightly—not from the external impact, but from an internal stinging pain.

A disordered melody, like the whispering strings of a harp, slowly emanated from the depths of his magical imprint.

The voice, which did not belong to any meeting, penetrated the magic circuit and quietly entered my consciousness.

He immediately understood that it was—

The signal from Matou Pond.

They had already established an encrypted communication channel.

It is transmitted not through text, sound, or images, but through "phonetic encoding"—

Only through a pre-arranged brain-based decoding algorithm can its meaning be deciphered.

So, in the next second after perceiving the rhythm,

El-Melloi II activated the decoding logic chain in his memory.

Like turning the first page of a thousand-layered musical score, his thoughts and magical imprints began to work in sync, attempting to extract a meaningful structure from the noise.

Throughout this process, his eyes remained fixed on the conference room, but half of his attention was focused on the engraving process.

Tick-tock.

Information flows like fine sand through the sieve of nerves and logic, gradually piecing together semantics.

Three fragments, gradually becoming discernible, emerged from the depths of my consciousness:

"orange"

"Stat Gold Coin"

"Technique"

— "Oranges, Stud Gold Coins, Spells."

It's as brief as it gets, yet incredibly precise.

This is not just intelligence; it is a microcosm of an order.