MTLNOVEL Chapter 38: I Am My Own Legacy
By noon, the Clock Tower dormitory was still in disarray. Dust hung in the air like drifting fireflies. After a short wait, Lucan finally received the magical letter he'd sent earlier.
"The El-Melloi household awaits your arrival."
Unfolding the paper, he saw elegant, aristocratic penmanship spelling out those antique English words. Lucan mused that this El-Melloi Lord was indeed the quintessential noble—always projecting that aura of inherited pride, just like his grandfather before him.
In his mind, Lucan recalled a tall, stately old man exuding aristocratic dignity—the previous Lord El-Melloi, a classical magus who once stood at the very top of the Clock Tower. In his twilight years as Lucan Luvist, Lucan had met that man.
Back in 1963, when the previous El-Melloi came to the Far East to uphold the purity of Mystery, he encountered Lucan on the streets of Fuyuki City, intent on erasing this so-called heretic.
But Lucan "convinced" him—first with force, then with Mystery and knowledge.
That El-Melloi had been the Head of Spirit Evocation, unlike Kenneth. All it took was a display of Lucan's god-summoning miracle to make the esteemed magus yield.
It was then that Lucan enticed him into signing a contract:
The El-Melloi Pact.
In exchange for knowledge of Mental Magecraft, the El-Melloi family would offer protection to Luvist's descendants—should any prove their claim.
The pact carried binding power. And for a proud family like El-Melloi, it would never be denied.
Everyone knew that Lucan Luvist—the manifestation of Lucan's own soul—had no children. He'd spent his life in sweet harmony with a certain imperial lady, but perhaps due to being a projection of the soul, he had no heirs.
So this pact...
Was his own legacy to himself.
"They say the ancestors plant the trees so their descendants may enjoy the shade," Lucan mused, staring at the letter, memories flashing through his mind like film reels from his seventy-six simulated years. "I guess I'm my own ancestor. I've passed down blessings... to myself."
It was one of several fallback plans he'd prepared in his simulation.
Even a cunning rabbit keeps three burrows.
And a magus is far more cunning than a rabbit.
Why choose El-Melloi?
Simple: the lemon-headed lecturer of the future was the easiest magus-lord to approach in real life.
And that lemon-head—Kenneth—was a true genius. Had he not died, he would've reached the pinnacle of the Clock Tower: Grand Magus rank.
Lucan believed Kenneth could provide protection—even in an age where Mystery was fading.
In the simulation, Lucan had only managed to reach a level equivalent to a Grand Magus due to the era's constraints. But he had mastered every branch of Magecraft, reaching the pinnacle of Grand rank—an "omni-specialist."
He had even become comparable to a Magic User.
Yes, Magic User—those who wield the highest form of Mystery, as seen in the foundational concepts of the Far East's Holy Grail War. The monk from the Burial Agency had mentioned them. Through his creation of divine entities, Lucan had achieved such a level.
But even that was still Grand.
Compared to others in the Clock Tower, Kenneth might've been a bit prickly toward commoner magi, but he was among the most humane, and someone you could rely on.
Of course, Lucan wasn't planning to put all his eggs in one basket.
He folded the letter, rose, and stepped over the wreckage of his room. He didn't clean it. He probably wouldn't be staying here anymore.
12:00 PM, London.
Lucan exited the dormitory and flagged down a cab.
From the outside, the Clock Tower—the pinnacle of the magical world—looked like nothing more than a normal university nestled in the suburbs of London, its towering spire echoing the look of Big Ben.
To outsiders, it hid its Mystery well.
And magi, unless required otherwise, lived just like normal people.
1:00 PM.
The cab crossed through bustling districts to another corner of London. Lucan stepped out with a dull thud, shut the door behind him, and took in the lush forest flanking the deep path ahead.
Sunlight broke through the canopy, dappling the ground with light. Trees swayed gently in the wind.
At the end of the road stood a towering, classical Western-style estate.
Its dome rose like a sword into the sky.
Clean, orderly—and steeped in history.
The El-Melloi estate.
Home of the magus lords.
Lucan could feel the dense leyline magic flowing underground.
A natural spring of magical energy surged beneath the house.
"A perfect place," he murmured sincerely, appreciating it as a magus.
He rang the brass bell by the outer gate.
Ding-ling.
Three clear chimes. A shadow moved behind the door.
...
"April, 1963—the season when cherry blossoms bloom across the Far East..."
In the dimly lit hall of the El-Melloi manor, Kenneth sat on a sofa, blue candlelight flickering around him.
Despite the surprise of the letter, he wasn't shaken—his prophetic dream had prepared him for this.
Unbothered by visitors, he continued with his original task: revisiting the journals of his grandfather.
He turned to the page that recorded a fateful meeting with Luvist.
Just as he opened the diary—
The doorbell rang.
"He's here. Let him in."
He gave the command to the maid without looking up. She bowed and left, while he kept reading.
The faded words described his grandfather's loss in magical combat to Luvist.
Described his awe at Luvist's miracles.
His grudging admiration for the man he'd once sought to destroy.
And then...
Kenneth heard footsteps.
Measured.
And brimming with Mystery.
His heart skipped a beat. He looked up.
This sensation...
This presence...
From the corridor outside...
A tall, lean young man stepped in.
Into the flickering candlelight.
For a moment, Kenneth remembered the words in the diary:
"April, 1963—the season when cherry blossoms bloom across the Far East..."
"On the streets beneath the night sky, I met the most wicked of men. A heretic cloaked in Mystery. He seemed young, ordinary—but one look, and I thought of the Russian philosopher Berdyaev's writings.
He said: 'That man is both saint and mortal.'"
Both saint. And mortal.
A man who piled up the mundane until he reached the divine.
Now, Kenneth saw it again.
"He stepped out of the darkness... like a star breaking through the night."
That light which once pierced a past Lord El-Melloi—
Now reached Kenneth El-Melloi Archibald.
"Lucan Luvist, sir."
"I can hardly believe it. It's really you."
He gently set aside the book and rose.
With utmost formality—
He welcomed the new bearer of Mystery's legacy.