A smile appeared on Felipe's deathly pale face: "Professor, you truly possess extraordinary insights and a unique perspective in the field of elemental magic. I'd imagine a figure such as yourself cannot possibly lack fame or standing. In truth, I'm quite curious — are you one of those I'm already familiar with?"
The higher his assessment of the Professor's arcane capabilities grew, the less certain he became of the man's true strength, and a trace of hesitation crept in. Though Felipe had always been supremely confident — never doubting that among those below the high-tier, his own strength was absolutely in the topmost echelon — a mage possessing such profound arcane knowledge and insight might not be far behind him at all. If it came to blows, both sides could very well end up battered.
Hearing Felipe's assessment, Lucian understood that he had bluffed his way through one more test. His deliberately altered voice carried a hint of amusement as he replied, "Perhaps once I've become a high-tier magician and we meet again in Altor, I'll consider telling you, Felipe."
By omitting the honorific "Mister," he subtly implied that the two had indeed met at the Continental Magic Parliament headquarters and were on familiar terms. And since Lucian figured that the Purification Roster should already contain an assessment of his level, he made no effort to hide the fact that he had not yet reached the high-tier — displaying this frank, confident attitude in order to cultivate the impression that his true strength was enigmatic and unfathomable.
Yet Felipe's aura suddenly turned dangerous, as though he were on the verge of striking!
Lucian maintained his composure on the surface, but internally his nerves drew tauter than ever. His entire bluff — his borrowed authority and every calculated response — rested on the assumption that Felipe was a sufficiently rational and clearheaded mage, the sort who weighed risks against gains and measured relative strength. But if the man harbored a reckless or unhinged tendency, then Lucian was in mortal danger! His own strength and magical items were utterly insufficient against a seasoned third-tier mage, let alone someone like Felipe who likely approached the high-tier.
"Necromancers are said to be madder than mages of other schools," flashed through Lucian's mind without warning.
The atmosphere grew silent and stagnant. Even the seemingly nonchalant Viscount Carrandia had stopped sipping his red wine and was on full alert. Though he had no desire to involve himself in Magic Parliament affairs, this was his castle after all — if it were destroyed, the losses would be devastating.
The more perilous and critical the moment, the calmer and more composed Lucian became. With unhurried poise, he picked up the red tea that Butler Ned had placed on the tea table and took a delicate sip. "Felipe, if you have no other questions in the field of elemental magic, I'd like to discuss some ancient necromantic spells unique to your school."
Since Felipe was probing his capabilities, Lucian needed to respond in kind. In a moment like this, retreating passively would only undermine his role as a disruptor.
"He wants to probe my magical strength? Does he not fear that I'll learn the necromantic spells he intends to discuss?" Perplexed, Felipe's dangerous aura receded. "Unless... he believes I simply cannot learn them! And there are only two reasons one could not learn them: either the structure of the spell can be broken down into separate parts, making it nearly impossible to reverse-engineer the whole from any single piece — or I'll be a dead man, and dead men cannot learn any spells! Hmph — Professor, do you underestimate me that much?"
Felipe squinted his eyes and remained silent for several dozen seconds. Just as he was about to speak, Viscount Carrandia's voice cut in: "Heh heh, gentlemen — the Feast of Death is nearly upon us. Whatever you wish to discuss can wait."
His resonant voice shattered the suffocating tension in the study, allowing Felipe to silently let out a breath of relief. He rose to his feet and said, "I was so absorbed in my discussion with the Professor that I lost track of time."
Lucian, who had very nearly collapsed from sheer relief, forced himself upright and rose with a smile. "Same here."
"Butler Ned, please escort the Professor to the main hall. I need to detain Mister Felipe for two or three minutes." Viscount Carrandia set his wine glass on the windowsill and, with long strides, walked toward Felipe.
Only after Lucian and Ned had left the study did Viscount Carrandia turn to Felipe with a smile and say, "Mister Felipe, perhaps you don't care, but this is the ancestral castle my grandfather left me — a thing I hold very dear. So if you truly intend to fight, please settle it quickly. Otherwise, don't blame me for having you both escorted out to continue."
Felipe bowed his head and smiled. "Though I do lose control of my emotions from time to time, I still understand the meaning of respecting one's host. Rest assured, Viscount — if I do strike, it will either be because I can finish the Professor within thirty seconds, or because he has crossed a line that neither my organization nor I can tolerate."
In Felipe's slightly unhinged dictionary, the phrase "respecting one's host" came with an unspoken caveat: "provided the host possesses sufficient strength to merit that respect..." And though Viscount Carrandia was not a high-tier vampire, his strength was by no means inferior — plus this was inside his own castle. Were it to come to a fight, Felipe was not at all certain he could win.
"Mister Felipe, I'm glad you can be understanding. I'll have a word with the Professor as well." Viscount Carrandia strode toward the study door.
Felipe followed behind with Cleveland at a leisurely pace, his expression as somber and pale as ever.
"Master, why not simply strike and test him directly? His concealment and disguise clearly show that he fears you."
Cleveland — a tall, burly middle-aged man who looked at least twice Felipe's age — addressed him as "Master" without the slightest reservation. In the world of Arcane Magic, sufficient strength and knowledge earned their corresponding respect and deference. "Besides, he'll surely try to disrupt your plans later."
Felipe shook his head. "Thankfully I tested him first, rather than striking in blind fury. I've now raised my assessment of the Professor's strength by another tier — no wonder he made the Church's Purification Roster. As long as he doesn't cross a line, it's best not to risk fighting him." He still maintained ample confidence in his own strength, attributing his absence from the Purification Roster solely to the fact that he hadn't done anything to rub the Church the wrong way.
He paused and glanced sideways at Cleveland, seemingly about to offer a few words of instruction. But after opening his mouth, he simply shoved both hands into his overcoat pockets in his usual brooding manner and continued walking in silence.
Matters of the organization were matters of the organization; his own matters were his own. The two demanded entirely different attitudes.
Trailing behind the stern, taciturn Butler Ned, Lucian felt his legs were about to buckle beneath him. Facing a mage like Felipe — seemingly rational yet seemingly mad, and devastatingly powerful — maintaining a disguise was an excruciating test of will and spirit.
"The organization hostile to the Will of Yuanchun or the Holme Royal Magic Court seems to be called the 'Pale Hand'... It sounds like an organization among necromancers. Could Felipe be holding the Feast of Death to recruit new members?"