Across the world, every organization—be it academies, guilds, or public welfare associations—exists under the authority of the nation in which it resides. Within a country’s borders, nothing escapes the watchful eyes of the central administration.
But there is one exception. One organization that does not bow to kings or councils, an institute that stands apart—free and independent.
The Magic Towers.
Unlike any other, the Towers exist not to serve a nation, but to serve humanity itself. Their purpose is discovery and protection. The mages within their walls devote themselves to studying magic—finding new spells, testing their limits, and recording them into knowledge that could shape the future.
The first Magic Towers were born from sacrifice. Long ago, during the Great War against the Devils, twelve heroes fought for the survival of mankind. Of those twelve, five were mages. When the war ended and lands were divided among the victors, those five refused crowns and thrones.
Instead, they chose a different path.
They built an organization that would stand above borders and kingdoms. A brotherhood dedicated to preserving knowledge, safeguarding humanity, and preparing for the day when calamity might strike again.
The Towers became their legacy—a watchful presence over the world, ensuring that when the next great threat rises, humanity will not be caught unprepared.
...
In the nation of Verelmora, there stood two Towers.
The East Wind.
And the Burning Sapphire.
Emma was the heiress of the East Wind.
Daughter of the Tower Master, Vitori Voidlance.
But few knew this truth. Emma concealed her lineage carefully, weaving a false background so no one—neither her instructor nor Kevin—would suspect who she truly was.
Now, stepping into the grand hall of the Tower’s main chamber, she made her way toward the heart of its knowledge—the great library.
"Good evening, Young Lady."
"Greetings, Young Lady."
"Good evening."
Everywhere she walked, the Tower’s mages and scholars bowed their heads with respect. Emma returned each greeting with a polite nod, yet her stride never faltered.
Though the library was forbidden to most, not a single soul dared to bar her path.
Click.
The heavy doors shut behind her, and a wave of nicotine smoke drifted into her senses.
Yes, even in this world, cigarettes existed—though no one could quite explain why.
Her eyes found him immediately. A silver-haired man sat behind a desk, lost in the pages of a thick tome.
"I wasn’t expecting you today," Vitori said, his eyes never leaving the text.
Emma rarely returned home during her breaks. Not because she resented her father, but because her restless spirit longed for the world beyond these walls.
But this time was different.
Without hesitation, she slammed a rolled parchment onto the table. "I need your help with this."
If anyone could decipher the curse she had seen wrapped around William, it was Vitori—the man many called the greatest mind alive.
After all, the East Wind was no ordinary Tower. It was one of the strongest in the world, second only to one.
At last, Vitori lifted his gaze. His eyes narrowed the moment they landed on the spiraled diagram spread before him.
He took the parchment into his hands, studying it intently. Silence lingered for a few tense seconds before he finally asked, "Where did you see this?"
Emma folded her arms. "Before I answer that, I’d like to know what it is."
Vitori closed his book with a soft thud. His voice was low, measured. "How many chains bound the being?"
Emma’s heart skipped. He knows. Relief flickered within her.
"Four," she said.
Vitori’s composure broke. His eyes widened, his breath caught. "What?! Four?!" Panic edged his voice.
Emma’s impatience flared. "What exactly is this?"
But her father ignored the question, already striding toward the towering shelves. His eyes darted along the rows of ancient spines, scanning, searching.
Emma pressed her lips together. She knew him well enough—he never moved with such urgency unless the matter was grave. And that’s what made her anxious.
So she waited.
And at last, he pulled a thick, dust-laden book from the shelf and carried it back to the table.
The Raging Storm— Rise (III)
Emma tilted her head, her lips pressing together, but she said nothing.
Her father flipped through the ancient book with deliberate care until his hand stilled halfway through. His voice was calm, yet carried weight as he asked, "Do you remember this part? When one of the Devil Generals was cornered?"
Emma hummed thoughtfully. "Yes. The Devil underestimated the restraint of the Divine Physician and grew greedy, trying to corrupt her. In the end, he was lured and trapped inside her compound."
Vitori’s lips curved faintly. "That’s my daughter. You remember well. But after that... he summoned his Soul Beast—a creature so fearsome it was never written about in the common histories."
Emma’s brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Vitori leaned back slightly, his gaze steady. "There are versions of the Great War’s records that only the successors of the War Heroes are allowed to inherit. Truths hidden away from the public eye."
Emma’s eyes narrowed. "So you’re saying... you know something others don’t."
He nodded once. "Yes. And one day, you will inherit that archive too."
Closing the book with a quiet thud, Vitori shifted the subject. "But for now, let’s focus on the Soul Beast."
His tone darkened. "A being terrifying in strength, immune to spells. Something not of man nor Devil—born only to devour and destroy." He chuckled dryly, though the sound held no mirth. "The first thing that beast consumed was the very Devil General who summoned it."
Emma’s eyes widened. "Wait... doesn’t that mean it broke their contract?"
Vitori’s expression hardened. "Exactly. That’s why the beast began to fade. Once his bond was broken, all they had to do was restrain him. Given time, he would have dissolved and returned to the Soul Lands."
He tapped the parchment Emma had brought, his gaze heavy with meaning. "And that... was when this curse was brought into play."
Heaving a long sigh, Vitori continued, "The records described that monster as a nightmare given flesh. Its strength was absurd, and its regenerative power bordered on the impossible. They quickly realized it couldn’t be killed. Dragging out the battle would have only bled them dry."
Emma’s voice was low, strained. "What does this curse actually do?"
Vitori’s brows furrowed as he sifted through the fragments of memory, recalling the grim passages.
"It... breaks the bearer from within," he said at last, his tone heavy. "The stronger they become, the more the curse tightens its grip. Every attempt to exert their strength only deepens the burden. It turns their own power against them."
His eyes darkened. "Imagine an endless battle where your enemy is yourself. No chance of victory. No escape. Only ceaseless torment."
Shaking his head, he said, "That beast had the strength to wipe out a nation yet he was bound in just two chains...yet, you said this being...around whom you saw these chains had four binds? Exactly who is this entity?"
’That’s exactly what I am trying to discern, father.’