The Authority of the Continents Tower—in modern terms, a government. In fantasy terms? Still a government. A governing force cloaked in mysticism and stone. Yes, an Emperor exists here too. A sovereign crowned with reverence. But there's a difference between them.
The Authority isn't some council of advisors. It's real power. Tangible, rivaling the monarchy. One tower per continent, two in total, each rising like divine declarations against the heavens. They were created for a single reason: in case the Emperor died.
A contingency.
But even contingencies have ambitions. Several times, the Authority tried to make the Emperor the last emperor. A final monarch, a relic. They wanted democracy.
The Emperor didn't.
So the revolution failed.
For now, they were at peace. A peace not born of harmony, but of exhaustion.
In the later arc of the visual novel, the Authority would go too far—crossing lines even for them. Sabotaging the protagonist, trying to force her into something cruel. That's when one of the main leads snapped. Fought back. Shut the Authority down.
It was unrealistic, sure. Governments don't fall to tantrums.
But in this world?
They probably could, if someone in power tries.
The Tower came into view. Even from far outside Menyurl, it was unmistakable. If it weren't for the Emperor's absolute control—half the continent's worth—I would've been in a different country entirely.
But there it stood.
Authority of continents Tower, in Levoria.
It didn't scrape the sky. It tore through it.
Several kilometers tall, a monument carved out of audacity and silver light. It was beautiful. Too beautiful to belong to something so flawed.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Katherine said.
I looked up at her. Nodded. "Yeah…"
—
Several minutes later.
—
SMACK.
My head slammed onto the table like a criminal in a cop drama.
"TELL US WHERE IS THE ARTIFACT YOU USED."
Ouch. Right. Not beautiful anymore.
Katherine chuckled somewhere in the background.
I was in an interrogation room. Three people wanted answers. Violently. Katherine stood beside them like she hadn't just admired the skyline with me a moment ago.
"Hey man, can you let go? I asked—what was it—Pinter? Weird-ass name, but still, let me go ma—whoaHHHH—"
I was pinned to the wall. Lifted like a kitten.
Okay. He was strong. I looked like a child compared to him.
Wait.
I was in a child's body.
"PLEASE STOP IT HURTS I AM SO YOUNG SO FRAGILE IT IS BREAKING MY BONES—"
Tears formed instantly. Damn my crying skills sure have improved haha.
"Oh well, of course. Forgive Pinter for that, but you really aren't giving us any answers that satisfy us, are you?" the man with glasses said. What was his name again? Erza?
He stepped closer. "Tell me—what was the wall of light surrounding the ocean? And where is the island that used to be there?"
He was trying to act like the reasonable one. The good cop. But I could feel it. He wanted to throw a punch just as bad as Pinter.
"Will my answers get you that promotion?" I asked.
His eyes widened. Murderous.
"Hey, hey, calm down, Erza. The kid wants that. Hello, I'm Tom," he finally introduced himself.
"Well, nice to meet you, Tom,"
I sighed. "Well, still, like I said. It's the truth. You people neglected Wallowtear long enough—for a deity to be present there."
"And you expect us to believe a deity killed all the villagers, made clones of them, and pretended to be in trouble to lure you in?"
"Precisely," I said.
Tom stared. "Kid, you know how unrealistic that sounds? I'm not much of a believer, neither is anyone here. If there was a priest or a believer in this room, they would've mounted your head on the wall by now."
"Well, you aren't wrong," I shrugged.
"So how about just telling the trut—"
"But it's the truth, isn't it?" I interrupted.
I looked at the one-way glass. They thought I couldn't see them. They were right. I couldn't use my Clarion right now, but I didn't need it.
Erza frowned and left the room. Tom followed. So did Pinter.
Katherine sat down, smiling.
"Sorry for their behavior. Though, yeah, they've gone to confirm. Even I was using my Clarion of Hearing to listen to your heartbeats."
"You know, you really shouldn't be listening to a man's heartbeat when you're getting married soon."
We both laughed.
And then—
She grabbed me by the collar. Eyes sharp as knives.
"Look, don't think I'm like them. I'll cut you up right now. Wanna see an example—"
The door opened.
She stood up quickly. "Chief?!"
A man entered. Calm presence. Stern eyes. Authority clung to him like a cloak.
"I'm Chief Joy. You can just call me sir."
"Okay, sir," I said.
He looked at Katherine. "Leave the boy and go get some rest."
"But—"
"Please."
She hesitated, then nodded and left.
Now it was just us.
"Well. Heide, was it? Heide Decimus."
Decimus. That was… my surname. Given by Gramps.
I stopped introducing myself like that. Never felt worthy of it. Monday and the others—they said their surnames like a badge of honor. Me? I never did. Never felt I deserved it.
Why should I? I hadn't done anything. Nothing worthy of that name.
"Why do you think so?"
"Huh?" I looked at him.
"You think he wouldn't have wanted you to take his surname?"
My eyes widened.
"Did you jus—"
"Read your thoughts? Kind of. Looking at your face, I can read around 40 to 50 percent of what you're thinking. It's not a Clarion. It's an artifact I have. The Seeker of Truths. Wind Dragon Tier. Quite a pain to get my hands on."
I looked down. "I haven't… done anything deserving."
"Does it need to be deserving?"
I looked at him.
He continued. "It's a name he gave you. And no one just gives that name. I know you were an orphan—we looked into your background. Hollowbrook. You killed a noble and got punished for it. Honurad came officially to file the documents. He knew about you more than you tried hiding."
I was stunned. I thought I hid how I got my Clarion. I thought Gramps never knew.
"Do you think he'd go this far if he didn't consider you his own?" Chief Joy's voice softened. "He ran around for months, despite his health, trying to get you officially under his wing. So we can't just take you away."
I dropped my eyes. It was too much. I missed him. So much.
But… why?
There had to be a reason. People don't just care. It must have been pity, right?
The others—my brothers and sisters—they were more talented. They deserved the Decimus name. Gramps changed the entire way people understood Clarions.
What did I do?
Nothing.
"He pitied me, sir… I can't really call myself that."
Ahh… when did I get this inferiority complex?
I don't remember.
No.
I do.