NOVEL WEB Chapter 18: Dark Mage Tower.
Ethan stood in the courtyard of the knight's fortress, still catching his breath, sweat soaking his tunic beneath the fresh weight of his new crest.
He wiped the blood off his knuckles and let out a shaky laugh. "Man… what a day."
But his eyes glinted with something sharper than fatigue—a resolve that refused to be broken.
He opened his system window, fingers trembling a little.
[MAP FUNCTION ACTIVATED]
A sprawling map of the continent unfolded before him in shimmering gold and black panels. Tiny lights pulsed for cities, roads, and significant landmarks. Ethan's eyes darted across it, searching for a familiar name.
"There you are…" he whispered. His fingertip hovered over an icon labeled Nyxspire.
[Nyxspire: Capital of Shadow Arts. Location of the Dark Mage Tower.]
The words alone brought back a rush of memories. Dungeons filled with nightmarish illusions. Quests that punished the slightest arrogance. He remembered how, in the game, thousands of players had died simply trying to enter the place without knowing the etiquette. Dark mages weren't just powerful—they were proud. And quick to slaughter anyone who didn't show them respect.
He gulped.
"But… I'm not just a player anymore," Ethan said under his breath. "I'm Ethan fucking Graves. And I'm not dying here."
He tapped the map and marked his destination. A new prompt appeared:
[Fast Travel Available via Adventurer's Guild Transit System.]
He exhaled in relief. "Thank God for this system."
He headed back inside the fortress, collected his few belongings, and strolled straight toward the Adventurer's Guild's transportation hall.
A few knights called after him. Some with respect. Others with jealousy and scoffs.
"Look at him," one muttered. "Barely survived the trials and he's already running off again."
But Ethan didn't stop.
Inside the transportation chamber, a giant magical circle glowed on the floor. Blue runes flickered, casting ripples of light on the walls. Ethan stepped onto it, gave the guild attendant a nod, and in a flash of cold white light—
He stumbled out into a completely different world.
Nyxspire hit him like a slap to the senses.
The air felt heavy, almost syrupy with power. Shadows curled around the edges of every building as if alive. Dark towers spiraled toward the clouds, their black stone carved with twisting runes that glowed purple in the gloom. The sky was perpetually overcast—a swirling mix of deep indigo and murky gray, with lightning crackling silently between the clouds.
The streets were made of slick, obsidian tiles. Lanterns burned with violet flames, casting eerie light onto robed figures drifting silently through the fog.
A sour, metallic tang filled the air.
Ethan felt goosebumps break across his arms.
"Damn…" he whispered. "It's even more intense than the game."
Above him loomed the massive silhouette of the Black Tower. Its spire seemed to pierce the clouds themselves. A thousand windows dotted its sides, flickering with ghostly green and purple lights. Bats wheeled around its highest balconies.
Ethan clenched his fists.
"Okay, Ethan… you can do this. You've cleared every hidden quest in this hellhole back in the game. You know all the death flags. You've just got to act the part."
He inhaled and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to walk forward. His boots clicked on the obsidian streets as he approached the tower gates.
Inside the Tower of Black Mages, the temperature dropped several degrees. Cold blue flames hovered in sconces, crackling softly. Whispering voices echoed down the corridors—though there was no one visibly speaking.
Black stone walls were covered in vast tapestries depicting monstrous creatures bound in chains, mages standing victorious above them.
Dead summons patrolled the corridors: armored skeletons holding rusted halberds, their eyes glowing bright green. One stopped as Ethan passed, its skull rotating toward him with a creak of bone. But it let him through after a moment, clattering back into position.
A flicker of unease twisted in Ethan's gut. "Holy hell… I'm actually in the Tower."
A woman stood behind a curved obsidian desk at the center of the vast entry hall. She wore layered dark robes trimmed in crimson, her eyes black as night. Dark runes crawled across her pale skin like living tattoos.
She glanced up at Ethan, disinterested.
"State your business, outsider," she said, her voice as cold as the grave.
Ethan swallowed. He forced a polite tone.
"I… wish to see the Tower Master."
For a moment, the woman simply stared at him as if he were an insect crawling across her ledgers. Then she gave a slow blink and a humorless smile.
"So do many fools. Few leave with their lives. Are you sure, human?"
He nodded. "Yes."
She arched an eyebrow. "Follow me."
They moved deeper into the tower. The hallways narrowed, ceilings climbing higher, dripping shadows like dark ink. Ethan kept his eyes low.
He knew this place. Knew that if you so much as made eye contact with a mage above your station, they could declare you an intruder and execute you on the spot.
More summons drifted through the corridors: burning wraiths, skeletal warhorses, floating grimoires chained shut with runes glowing along their spines.
At last, the woman stopped before two towering double doors. Each slab of black metal was etched with a massive sigil—a coiling serpent devouring itself.
She turned, expression cool.
"The Tower Master awaits. Speak carefully. Your life may depend on it."
Ethan forced a shaky grin. "Right. Thanks for the tip."
She tapped the doors with a slender finger. They swung open with a deep groan.
Ethan stepped inside.
The chamber beyond was vast, lit only by hanging lanterns that flickered purple and green. Massive bookshelves reached the ceiling. Strange magical circles glowed across the floor, pulsing in rhythm like a beating heart.
At the center, seated upon an obsidian throne, was the Tower Master.
She was draped in a cloak of shimmering black silk that reflected no light. Her face was stunning—sharp cheekbones, pale flawless skin—but her eyes burned like twin stars of amethyst flame. Long midnight hair flowed down her shoulders. Around her hovered wisps of pure darkness, moving as though alive.
Ethan felt his throat go dry.
'…Okay, yeah, she's way scarier in person.'
He dropped immediately to one knee, bowing low, forehead nearly touching the stone. In the game, this was the only way to survive this meeting.
An amused chuckle drifted from the throne.
"Well… at least you know how to show respect. That's rare for your kind."
Her voice was sweet, melodic—and filled with a quiet cruelty that made Ethan's blood run cold.
"Tell me… why has a newly minted knight come crawling to my tower?"
He stayed bowing, swallowing hard.
"I… wish to become a Dark Mage." Ethan said. "I seek to walk both paths—the sword and the arcane."
Silence stretched for a few heartbeats.
Then she let out a low, delighted laugh. "A hybrid, is it? Fascinating…"
She leaned forward on her throne, one slender finger tracing a rune on the armrest.
"Very well, little knight. We shall see if you're worthy of the darkness."
Ethan didn't dare look up, but a bead of sweat slipped down his cheek.
The Tower Master's grin widened. "Prepare yourself. The path you seek will demand more than blood. It will demand your soul."
Ethan sucked in a breath. His heart pounded in his ears.
'I've come this far… I'm not backing out now.'
And with that, the shadows seemed to gather closer around him, as if waiting to devour him whole.