As the mercenaries stepped into the lobby of the tower, they couldn't help but look around in awe.

The vast lobby was beautifully adorned with plants they had never seen before, and expensive-looking sculptures were placed throughout the space. It was hard to tell whether this was a mage's tower or the lavish estate of a noble.

Seeing the mercenaries gawking with their mouths wide open, Sylvain, the apprentice mage guarding the lobby, wrinkled his nose in disdain.

"Tch, what's this? A bunch of beggars dirtying the floor?"

It was a typical reaction from someone trained in the Crimson Tower.

Sylvain hadn’t always been like this. Living in the tower had molded his attitude over time.

"Did the gatekeeper let them in because he was scared?"

The group looked disheveled, but each of them carried at least one weapon at their waist. As mere commoners, the gatekeepers were not equipped to stop a large, armed group.

Sylvain sighed. It seemed that dealing with this bunch would fall on him.

Raising his chin arrogantly, Sylvain approached the mercenaries, but the gatekeeper hurriedly intercepted him, whispering something into his ear.

Sylvain’s eyes narrowed as he nodded several times, then quickly bowed deeply toward Ghislain.

"Honored guests, I welcome you. Might I inquire where you’ve come from?"

"Ghislain Ferdiem, Archduke of Ferdiem."

Sylvain’s face lit up with a false admiration, nodding vigorously.

"Ah, of course, the Archduke of Ferdiem! I’ve heard of your noble and brave name. From the moment I saw you, I knew you were no ordinary person!"

Despite his flowery words, Sylvain had no idea where Ferdiem was located. He was simply fawning because the man before him was a noble and had brought valuable goods.

Ghislain, fully aware of the insincerity, merely smiled.

"I’ve come to sell runestones. There’s quite a bit, and I’d like to meet with a high-ranking mage who can handle the transaction. Preferably, I’d like to speak with the tower master directly."

"I’ll inform them at once. Please, wait a moment."

Sylvain bowed again and led Ghislain and his group to a reception room. As soon as he left them, he sternly warned the maids.

"Make sure our guests are treated with utmost care. No mistakes."

After stressing this multiple times, Sylvain hurried off to report to the tower master. If Ghislain’s wagons were indeed full of runestones, it would be an enormous haul.

Not even during the tower’s peak had their contracted merchants delivered this much at once.

Normally, someone as low-ranked as Sylvain would never meet the tower master directly. But there was no time to go through the usual chain of command. Ghislain could change his mind and leave at any moment.

"Surely, with this many runestones, I won’t be scolded."

Heart pounding, Sylvain rushed to find the tower master.

At that moment, in the highest room of the tower, a serious meeting was underway.

"Are you saying we’re running out of runestones?"

A middle-aged man with a graying mustache furrowed his brows in displeasure.

"Yes, at this rate, the gap between us and the Tower of the Scarlet Flame will widen even further."

An elderly mage with a long white beard responded. The middle-aged man sighed heavily.

"How did it come to this…?"

This man was Hubert, the master of the Crimson Tower and a 6th-circle mage. Despite being over sixty, Hubert’s magic power had allowed him to retain a youthful appearance, and he took great care to maintain his looks.

Recently, however, wrinkles had started to appear on his face.

"Is there no way to fix this?"

Hubert asked, glancing at the five elders seated beside him. None of them could offer a solution.

Hubert raised his voice in frustration.

"How can we hope to surpass the Tower of the Scarlet Flame at this rate? They were below us! Doesn’t that wound your pride?"

The elders averted their gazes, inwardly grumbling.

"Why don’t you tone down the socializing and focus on your training?"

"Their tower master is a 7th-circle mage. How can we compete when ours is only 6th-circle?"

"All he cares about is appearances, and now he complains…"

Mages were naturally individualistic, quick to blame others for their problems. The elders blamed Hubert’s lack of progress for their tower’s decline, while Hubert thought his mages were too complacent.

Finally, one of the elders raised his hand.

"Of course, we need to improve our skills. We must show who the real masters of northern fire magic are."

The Crimson Tower and the Scarlet Flame Tower had always been rivals, both specializing in fire magic and based in the north.

"But how exactly do you plan to do that? Are we going to practice without protection?"

A mage’s power was measured by how many spells they could cast, but casting spells without proper safeguards could lead to disastrous results—rampant magic could cause one’s body to explode or become permanently disabled.

Without runestones to absorb the excess magical energy, practicing magic was dangerous.

"If we run out of runestones, we won’t be able to train properly!"

"…That’s true."

Runestones were essential for mages, not only to protect them during training but also to enhance their magical power. They were a critical resource.

"Are we beggars? Can’t we afford this? Only poor mages train without runestones!"

"The master of the Scarlet Flame Tower trains without them…"

"Don’t talk about him! And how do we even know that’s true? If I had enough runestones, I’d reach the 7th circle in no time!"

Hubert shouted angrily, his frustration boiling over. The elders silently bowed their heads, though they continued to mock him internally.

"Yeah, right. If it were that easy, every tower master would have reached the 7th circle by now."

"It’s only a matter of time before the Scarlet Flame Tower becomes the best in the kingdom."

Other than the royal family’s personal mage, Delmud, the master of the Scarlet Flame Tower, was the only 7th-circle mage in the kingdom.

Unaware of what the elders were thinking, Hubert gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Argh! If I just had more runestones, I’d reach the 7th circle! If Delmud could do it, why can’t I?"

Hubert had always been sensitive about comparisons to Delmud. Despite his rough upbringing and lack of support, Delmud had managed to reach the 7th circle, which only deepened Hubert’s inferiority complex.

One of the elders, sensing Hubert’s growing anger, cleared his throat and tried to change the subject.

"We’ve asked all the merchants, but none of them have any runestones. The Scarlet Flame Tower has driven the price up significantly. Even when we offer to match their prices, there’s still no supply."

Most of the merchants who had supplied the Crimson Tower with runestones had either reduced their shipments or stopped altogether.

"Why has it come to this? Why is it suddenly so hard to get runestones?"

Having lived their entire lives within the tower, the mages had little understanding of the outside world. They were used to relying on inherited wealth and didn’t grasp the complexities of the situation.

Hubert rubbed his face with both hands, his voice heavy with fatigue.

"What about artifact production?"

"It’s becoming difficult without enough runestones."

Creating magic tools and scrolls was the tower’s main source of income, but without runestones, they wouldn’t be able to continue.

Hubert felt like crying.

Once, the Crimson Tower had been the greatest in the north, but now it was losing its prestige, and its resources were dwindling.

At this rate, they would soon be reduced to nothing more than a scroll shop.

"Is there really no way to get more runestones?"

"The best we can do is gather small quantities from distant regions. But with the number of people we have, it’s far from enough."

"The Scarlet Flame Tower has just as many people, if not more. They must be taking everything."

"That’s the rumor. It seems most of the runestones are going to them. But since they’re struggling to get enough, they’ve been raising the prices."

"What if we offer more money? We still have some funds left, don’t we?"

"We’ve already spent a fortune trying to buy runestones, and even then, there’s nothing to buy. The supply has dried up."

The mages, too proud and complacent, had no idea how to solve the crisis. They were lost in their own arrogance, blind to the changing world around them.

"We’re running out of money… no runestones… and our apprentices are getting weaker… Ha, what a joke."

Even Hubert, the tower master, was too afraid to practice magic without protection. How could he expect anyone else to?

If things continued like this, the Crimson Tower would stagnate and eventually collapse.

"Ha…"

"Sigh…"

"Ugh…"

The room was filled with the heavy sighs of smart but foolish mages.

"We need to recruit a skilled merchant. Let’s leave this to the experts."

One of the elders suggested. Hubert and the other elders nodded in agreement.

They prided themselves on their knowledge of magic and the mysteries of the world, but they were utterly clueless when it came to trade.

"We should have dealt with this sooner."

In the past, the tower had employed not just mages but also talented merchants. But as their reputation grew, they became arrogant and stopped prioritizing such figures, believing they were no longer necessary.

Though it was late, the mages all agreed that they needed to bring in a professional.

"Let’s start searching for someone—"

Bang, bang, bang!

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.

Hubert scowled, barely containing his irritation.

"We’re in a meeting! Come back later."

Bang, bang, bang!

"I said, we’re in a meeting!"

Bang, bang, bang!

No matter how many times Hubert shouted, the knocking didn’t stop. Finally, he stood up, fuming.

"Whoever this is, I’ll burn their head clean off."

"Excuse me, I need to come in!"

Crash!

The door flew open, and the intruder barged in without permission. Hubert glared at the newcomer.

"Who are you? Who let you in? Where are the guards? Prepare to lose your hair."

The tower operated on a strict hierarchy, and it was rare for the master to meet a lowly mage. Naturally, Hubert didn’t recognize Sylvain.

Still trembling from the oppressive atmosphere, Sylvain stammered.

"S-Someone’s here to sell runestones."

"What? Runestones?"

All the elders craned their necks in curiosity, their interest piqued. Hubert, too, calmed down, though Sylvain remained visibly nervous.

Swallowing hard, Sylvain continued.

"It’s not like the usual merchants who bring small amounts. They’ve brought over ten carts, and they’re all filled to the brim with runestones!"

At his words, everyone in the room shot to their feet.