Chapter 166

“As always, it’s another cold day.”

“…The spirits must be very angry today.”

Shivering from the howling blizzard, the child clasped their hands together.

And as always, they bowed toward the direction of the raging storm, begging for forgiveness.

“Please, forgive us, Great Spirit.”

These words of apology had been repeated daily for the past three years.

The child wasn’t sure if the spirits were even listening, but they prayed nonetheless.

“I want to see the sunlight.”

The adults said that there was once something called “sunlight.”

They said the skies weren’t always choked with dark clouds but were once clear and blue.

People could breathe freely without masks, and the air was crisp and refreshing.

But the child had never seen such a world.

From the moment they were born, the sky had been gray, and the land had been buried under endless snow.

The adults blamed it on the spirits’ wrath, cursing the “nobles” who had caused it.

Some even grew angry at the spirits, asking how they could be so cruel when the people had done nothing wrong.

But instead of agreeing with the adults, the child left the village every day at this time to pray.

For forgiveness.

Their parents had always said that if you did something wrong, the first step was to apologize.

So, the child apologized on behalf of those “nobles,” hoping that—

‘One day, they’ll bring back the sunlight.’

The child dreamed.

Dreamed of seeing the blue sky.

Dreamed of a world where the villagers could grow crops instead of relying on dangerous hunts.

Dreamed of a future where their younger sister could grow up basking in sunlight.

And…

“…To live as warmly as the people in the ‘Colonies’ do.”

For that future, the child prayed every day—hoping the spirits would stop hating humans.

“Eren! What are you doing out there?”

“Oh, Mom!”

“Come inside before you catch a cold.”

“Yes!”

Answering their mother’s call, the child gently placed a small, beautiful pebble on the ground.

A gift for the spirits.

Whooooooosh!

Snowstorms raged year-round across the Central Continent.

But it hadn’t always been this way.

The imperial family and the Magic Tower had once tried to capture and exploit the spirits’ power.

Their actions enraged the Winter Spirit, cursing the Central Continent with over ten years of unending winter.

Since then, the land had become barren, unable to sustain crops.

Angry nobles and citizens declared themselves warlords, fracturing the empire into rival territories.

Strangely, however, the blame fell entirely on the empire, while the Magic Tower escaped scrutiny.

Why?

Not because the people were stupid.

It was simply that—

“So this is the Magic Tower’s Great Greenhouse.”

“It really encloses the entire city?”

“Impressive.”

The Magic Tower had created massive greenhouses.

Encased in magical barriers, these domes resembled enormous farms covered in plastic sheeting.

Except they were large enough to house entire cities.

Outside, it was winter.

Inside, it felt like spring.

These greenhouses, now called “Colonies,” had become a defining feature of the Central Continent.

They were the Magic Tower’s way of atoning for their mistake.

And because of them, public perception shifted.

The Magic Tower was seen not as villains, but as a “necessary evil”—a flawed organization that at least tried to fix its mess.

Of course, not everyone lived in the Colonies.

Some refused to rely on magic and continued to live outside, farming barren lands.

But for those who enjoyed the Colonies’ warmth, the Magic Tower wasn’t just tolerated—it was revered, almost like a temple.

Whoosh.

As travelers entered the Colony, warm air wrapped around them.

Merchants and wanderers who had braved the blizzard sighed with relief as they removed their heavy coats.

“Whew, finally! I can feel my fingers again.”

“I thought I’d freeze to death.”

“Let’s unload the goods.”

Food merchants bustled about.

In this eternally frozen land, food was always scarce—and thus highly profitable.

A rookie merchant from the Western Continent felt a sense of satisfaction as he sold his goods at a high price.

It made all the hardship worthwhile.

With business taken care of, he finally allowed himself to relax a little.

“…Come to think of it, I still haven’t seen the Magic Tower. My seniors said it’s impossible to miss it if you’re traveling through the Central Continent.”

His idle muttering caught the attention of someone nearby.

“Hm. Is this your first time in the Central Continent, sir?”

“…And who might you be?”

“Heh. Just a kid trying to earn some coin.”

“Oh, a Street, then.”

Street.

A derogatory term for abandoned children living on the streets.

This one probably made money by selling information instead of stealing, which was rare.

Feeling both pity and amusement, the merchant tossed the child a silver coin.

“Well, it’s my first time here, so tell me what you know.”

“Thank you, sir!”

The coin was enough to loosen the child’s tongue.

“What are you curious about? The strongest warlords? The most powerful nobles? Or the Magic Tower?”

“…Honestly, I’m most curious about the Magic Tower.”

The Tower, home to the continent’s most powerful mages.

Its influence rivaled half the empire’s power.

For a merchant, it was an unavoidable concern.

‘Trade depends entirely on what the Tower focuses on.’

The Tower was one of the best customers for merchants.

They were rich and rarely haggled over prices.

But ever since arriving in the Central Continent, the merchant hadn’t seen any trace of the Tower—or even a single mage.

‘Where is this so-called tower?’

He had visited multiple Colonies, but there were no signs of a towering structure.

Perhaps it was located at the empire’s capital?

“Haha. I think I know what you’re wondering. The Magic Tower is the pride of the Central Continent, yet you haven’t seen any trace of it, right?”

“…Sharp kid.”

“Hehe, thank you! But first, tell me—what do you think the Magic Tower looks like?”

“Hm?”

The merchant blinked at the sudden question.

Wasn’t it obvious? A tower is a tower.

“Do you think it actually looks like a tower?”

“…Doesn’t it?”

“Hah! You really came here without knowing anything.”

“Hey! It’s not like I didn’t want to know! No one would tell me!”

“Ah, I see.”

“Ahem!”

Feeling embarrassed, the merchant coughed.

It wasn’t a great look for someone in his profession to be so uninformed.

The sharp-eyed boy wisely refrained from poking at the merchant’s embarrassment.

He’d been paid well, after all—and he knew better than to irritate someone unnecessarily.

“…Those ‘teasing’ folks weren’t entirely wrong, you know. If you spend enough time in the Central Continent, you’re bound to see the Magic Tower sooner or later.”

“Hmm?”

“In fact, your timing is impeccable. Or maybe you’re just lucky, sir.”

“What…?”

“Look up.”

“…Up?”

The merchant, confused by the boy’s cryptic remark, tilted his head back—and froze.

“What in the—?!”

His breath caught, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

What he saw was nothing short of fantastical.

[Whooooooom—!]

A massive structure—a castle—floated in the sky.

A castle in the heavens.

The term “Sky Fortress” came to mind as he stared at the enormous, otherworldly sight.

How could something that large be flying?

As if anticipating the question, the boy spoke up.

“They say the Magic Tower houses hundreds of mages. And those hundreds of mages use their telekinetic power to keep the Tower afloat. Thanks to their combined magic, the Tower flies all year round.”

“A-All year?!”

“Yes, sir. Of course, it sometimes lands to restock supplies, but where it lands is completely random.”

“…Incredible.”

The merchant finally understood why so few traders ever secured contracts with the Tower.

‘How can you strike a deal with something that never stays in one place?’

Still—

“But why would they bother keeping a fortress in the sky?”

“Well, rumor has it the Tower is full of artifacts. To protect them, they elevated their fortress to a place no ordinary person can reach.”

“Sounds plausible.”

“Another rumor says they conduct experiments that can only be done in the sky—ones too dangerous to perform on the ground.”

“…That’s terrifying.”

The merchant’s curiosity wasn’t fully satisfied, but he found the boy’s explanations reasonable enough.

Pleased, he tossed the boy another silver coin.

“Oh! This is too much, sir…”

“You’re quite the talker—skilled at spinning tales. Perhaps you should become a bard someday. Hah!”

“…Thank you very much, sir!”

“Keep working hard.”

The merchant, feeling his questions answered, nodded with satisfaction.

And…

“Looks like my next trade route is decided!”

His eyes burned with excitement.

His goal?

“…Another fool off to chase the Tower, huh? Tsk, tsk.”

The boy, now pocketing his coins, smirked with bitter cynicism.

Gone was the wide-eyed, innocent expression.

He had seen people like that before—rookies who, after one lucky trip, believed the world was theirs for the taking.

They mistook beginner’s luck for skill, throwing themselves into unreachable dreams instead of sticking to what they knew.

If passion alone could conquer the world, life would be so much simpler.

“What a fool.”

The words sounded far too old coming from a boy barely twelve years old.

But perhaps his harsh judgment was justified, given the struggles he’d faced surviving on the streets.

Turning away, he set out to scout for another gullible “customer.”

But then—

Thump!

He froze.

“……”

No, he had to freeze.

Despite only living twelve years, his instincts had been sharpened by constant danger.

Right now, every alarm in his body was going off.

“…Is this enough?”

“You cocky bastard.”

In a dark alley nearby, two men faced off.

A spear and an axe glinted as they pointed their weapons at each other, radiating murderous intent.

“Gulp…”

The boy swallowed hard and slowly stepped back.

This was trouble.

The kind of trouble you never wanted to get caught up in—

Snap.

“…Damn it.”

Just when he thought he was lucky, his foot landed on a twig, betraying his presence.

And—

“Oi. Got business with us?”

“……”

The boy passed out.

“Why’d the kid suddenly faint?”

“Probably because your face looks like you kill people for fun.”

“…Tch. I can’t even deny that, can I?”

Ihan clicked his tongue but gently laid the boy down to keep him from getting hurt.

No need for the kid to catch a cold or injure himself.

After ensuring the boy was safe, Ihan turned back to his companion.

“…Things got a bit messy, but let’s continue.”

“Tsk. You’re an arrogant bastard.”

“If you don’t like it, don’t come. I can handle this alone.”

“……”

The spearman frowned but stayed silent.

Right now, Ihan had the upper hand—and the spearman knew it.

Swoosh!

Without warning, the spearman lunged forward, his spear thrusting toward Ihan’s forehead.

Clang!

“…Hmm. Not bad.”

“……”

The spear’s tip struck Ihan’s forehead—but didn’t leave so much as a scratch.

Instead, it rang out like steel hitting solid iron.