"————"
In the conference room, an indescribable heaviness was spreading through the air.
Everyone's expressions were weighed down, some even troubled—each person wore an uncertain, conflicted look.
But this was the reality.
Not just the current state of the Thirteen, but also the reality for all glove-bearers dreaming of the throne of Wiseman.
Whenever Rozen was mentioned, this was the inevitable reaction from the competitors.
There was simply no helping it.
"Without a doubt, that Fimbulvetr's Winter is the most terrifying obstacle standing in the way of the Wiseman's throne."
Olga Saladin spoke solemnly.
"This opponent is just too powerful. Forget everything else—just take the fact that even the strongest Magus of the 19th century fell to him. Tell me, how are we supposed to defeat someone like that?"
At this point, even Olga's tone carried a trace of helplessness.
It was easy to imagine just how much distress they felt when facing someone as formidable as Rozen.
This was a person who had defeated the strongest Magus of the 19th century.
The Night Party is held once every four years, and a new Wiseman is born each time. But a Magus of that caliber appears only once in a century. That's one every hundred years. Compared to the Wiseman, the rarity and strength are incomparable.
For someone like that to fall to Rozen—there's only one conclusion.
Rozen is a being even more powerful than the Wiseman.
And such a person appeared in this mere single round of the Night Party, contending for the Wiseman's throne alongside a bunch of students—how could that not leave others feeling powerless?
In fact, even others—not just Rozen himself—felt that his participation in the Night Party was just too unfair.
Unfortunately, Rozen was a student at the Walpurgis Royal Academy of Machinart, his age matched that of everyone present, and he had every right and qualification to participate. Even protesting would be pointless.
At the end of the day, it came down to a single truth: inferior skills—nothing more to say.
But as Olga had said, if they simply handed the victory to him, many would be unwilling.
Everyone in the room had their own reasons for participating—some were chasing particular goals, others came solely for the Wiseman title with a do-or-die resolve. None of them would surrender that easily.
That's why Olga had gathered the Thirteen here today.
However...
"You have a plan then, Student Representative?"
Ashura asked gravely.
Clearly, he too longed for the Wiseman's throne—he too wanted to defeat Rozen.
Unfortunately...
"To be honest, I myself am at a loss."
Olga admitted frankly, without a shred of shame.
"In terms of raw power, I don't believe there's anyone in this year's Night Party who can match Fimbulvetr's Winter. Even the Marshal is no exception. So solo combat is out of the question. Even tactics and schemes won't mean much when faced with overwhelming strength. And let's not forget—Fimbulvetr's Winter is brilliant as well. Otherwise, he wouldn't have exposed the Cannibal Candy's identity, crushed Germany's Knights of the Cross, or uncovered the death of the Night Party's executive director. His intellect is formidable."
"And if it came to group combat, you all know what happened—the aforementioned Knights of the Cross were annihilated by just one of his automata. Now he's rumored to have two more, and tens of thousands of magical beasts. Even if we all banded together, it likely wouldn't be enough."
"If not for the arena restrictions of the Night Party preventing Fimbulvetr's Winter from summoning too many magical beasts, and if traditional magic wasn't difficult to use in this Machinart competition, I probably would've already given up."
"Given all that, there's only a single thread of hope left—and barely that."
"At the very least, I believe that if we continue to fight separately, we have no chance of victory. Only by collaborating to devise a strategy can we hope to seize that thread."
Olga expressed her thoughts as objectively and calmly as possible, without personal feelings or reckless emotion—just a clear statement of fact.
Of course, such facts were hard to swallow.
"To think a fellow student, a genius like us, would just admit inferiority like that?"
Sonechka Snitkina looked rather displeased.
"What's so great about that damn guy anyway!? I'm not scared of him at all!"
Dorothy McGuffin pouted, clearly reacting emotionally.
"Unfortunately, we really are outmatched."
"Even though I hate to admit it, reality is reality. No matter how harsh it is, it must be faced. This year's Night Party is just that abnormal. Even someone this brokenly powerful showed up."
The Zekaros Brothers spoke in turn—one expressionless, the other filled with exasperation—forming a stark contrast.
But that was the truth. Rozen was just too overpowered. Even if the people here were all exceptional prodigies who never accepted defeat, in the face of this absolute reality, they could only grit their teeth and yield.
Rozen was simply so strong, no one could pretend or bluff their way through it.
The thing called "a gap" becomes something truly crushing when it grows wide enough—no matter how much of a genius you are, you eventually have to bow your head.
Naturally, there were also those who had no interest in the proceedings.
"Hotaru. Kamakiri. Let's go."
Magnus suddenly stood, turned his back to the crowd, and left with his two automaton.
"Magnus." Olga quickly called out. "Are you planning to give up?"
Hearing that, Magnus paused.
"What you people choose to do is your business," he said indifferently. "I have my own goals."
Leaving those words behind, Magnus departed without looking back.
Everyone watched him leave, but no one stopped him.
"Looks like even the Marshal can be impulsive at times."
"Well, he is the greatest prodigy since the academy was founded. How could he easily accept being overshadowed by some latecomer?"
The Zekaros Brothers scoffed and laughed mockingly.
"Enough." Olga shook her head. "This was a voluntary meeting to begin with. Whether you join or not is entirely up to you. If anyone here has other plans, you're free to leave as well."
Hearing that, no one else moved.
Clearly, the remaining people had no way to deal with Rozen and didn't want to miss this meeting.
That alone showed just how much pressure Rozen placed on them.
Olga relaxed her expression and resumed the discussion and analysis with everyone present.
Though they all had their own thoughts, they participated in the meeting, each with their own style, contributing to the strategy session.
In the end, the group came to several conclusions.
"Solo combat is not an option."
"Just joining forces isn't enough."
"If that's the case, then we must combine all methods."
Olga swept her gaze across everyone present.
"Then, as we've just agreed, everyone move forward with your respective strategies."
Her words made everyone nod.
At that moment, someone who had remained silent finally spoke.
"No matter what, that pair of siblings must be handled by me. Is that alright?"
It was Hazel who said this.
"No problem," Olga agreed without hesitation.
And so, the group dispersed to take action.
Only Olga remained in the empty conference room, muttering to herself.
"This path will surely be harsh... and full of hardship."
"But I must reach the end."
"I will become the Wiseman."
She murmured those words—
Unaware that in the shadowy corner of the conference room, a man stood quietly, watching her.
In his eyes, a mix of complexity, determination, and affection flickered.