Infinite Mage - Remake

Though their charges hadn’t been formally proven yet, the investigators treated them like criminals. No doubt Alpheas’s earlier testimony had shaped that perception.

Canis and Arin said nothing, quietly following the guards through the corridor. As they walked, they spotted Alpheas returning from the opposite direction. Canis intended to pass him without a word—but just as they were about to cross paths, Alpheas turned to the jailer.

“Excuse me, could I speak with them for a moment?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Just keep it brief.”

Canis scoffed at how differently the guards treated Alpheas. It wasn’t his strength they respected—it was his fame. The fact that someone weaker than Arcane was receiving such polite treatment annoyed him.

As the guards stepped back to give them space, Alpheas spoke gently.

“There’s no need to be nervous. Just answer their questions truthfully, and you’ll be fine.”

“Don’t mistake us for your naive students,” Canis snapped. “We’ve survived countless battles. There’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.”

Canis had lived through more hardships than most kids his age could imagine. But because of that, he’d also lost much. Alpheas wanted to help him regain something—hope, a future.

“That’s actually why I wanted to talk,” Alpheas said. “When this is over… why don’t you consider enrolling in a magic school?”

Canis looked like he’d been slapped. Did Alpheas really think someone like him could just sit in a classroom? After everything he’d been through?

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t lose because you were strong. If it weren’t for Abyss Nova—no, if it had been a fair match, I would’ve flattened you in an instant.”

“You’re probably right,” Alpheas admitted calmly. “But if things had gone differently, maybe I would’ve been the one kneeling and begging for mercy.”

Canis bit his lip. He couldn’t accept those words—but he couldn’t deny them either.

“Canis, that’s what evil is. No matter how noble your intentions, it’ll always be misunderstood and hated. But you? You can rise above it. I want you to have a brighter future—not one lost in darkness.”

“Why do you even care?” Canis asked, voice trembling. “Is this sympathy?”

“I was once a disciple of Arcane too. That alone could earn you the death penalty. Just like time can’t be turned back, some bonds last forever. But if you truly want to start a new life, I’m willing to help you.”

Canis didn’t respond. What was the point of a new life? All he’d ever known was battle. It was the only path left to him.

As Alpheas walked away down the corridor, guards seized Canis and Arin once again, dragging them to the interrogation room. Unlike the grim dungeon cells of Inferno that Canis had imagined, the investigation room was surprisingly clean and orderly.

A small figure sat at the table with his back turned. The only detail visible was the silver hair.

“Inspector, these are the suspects in the case—Canis and Arin.”

“Ah, bring them in.”

The voice was chilling—like metal scraping against metal. It radiated a razor-sharp energy, fitting for someone from the notorious 3rd Division of the Inspection Bureau.

Canis and Arin moved around the table and sat across from the inspector. To their surprise, he didn’t look intimidating. He had a sharp, cat-like chin and a thin-lipped smile beneath narrow, slit-like eyes.

“My name is Sakiri, inspector from Division 3. You are Canis and Arin, correct?”

“That’s right,” Canis replied steadily.

Arin, however, said nothing. Canis turned toward her, sensing her unease.

“Arin? What’s wrong?”

She was trembling, her face pale. Her wide, shaking eyes were fixed on Sakiri. Canis noticed the panic in her expression and realized something was very wrong.

What could she be seeing?

“I… I can’t read him,” Arin whispered.

Arin, as a practitioner of menarche, should’ve easily been able to sense emotions. The only explanation was that Sakiri had no emotions—or had intentionally erased them.

The way Arin stared at Sakiri was unsettling. To her, his entire body appeared as reflective metal, smooth as a mirror. His face was featureless, shaped like an egg. His hands and feet tapered into conical points, giving off no emotional cues at all. This was the form one could only take in menarche if all emotion was entirely suppressed.

“My, seems the lady is a bit startled. Menarche, is it? I’ve sealed my magic, but unique traits like that aren’t something I can hide. Still, I trust you both won’t go berserk.”

Sakiri set down his pen and crossed his conical legs with an air of casual interest.

Arin watched them twist and untwist, like a pretzel.

He’s toying with us, she thought.

This wasn't just emotional suppression. This was total mastery over one’s inner self.

“Focus.”

Arin looked up. Sakiri’s face had elongated into a pointed cone that hovered right in front of her forehead.

“Concentrate. I’m still on duty. Arin, is that your name?”

“Yes… it is,” she answered, startled, not even realizing she had spoken.

The sharp cone pointed at her forehead wasn’t a weapon—but Sakiri’s focused intent. It was the first time Arin had ever seen menarche presented in such a pristine, intimidating form. She had the distinct feeling that anyone interrogated by this man would be utterly broken.

Canis and Arin were now face-to-face with the most elite judicial force in the kingdom—and there was no escape.

As the two sat quietly, Sakiri’s face slowly reshaped from its needle-like point back into the smooth, metallic egg.

“Well then. Based on Alpheas’ statement, I’ve drafted a preliminary report. There are a few things I’d like to clarify. Please answer honestly.”

The questioning began. Sakiri asked several probing questions, and both Canis and Arin responded truthfully. After about an hour, Sakiri nodded with a satisfied look and began organizing the papers.

“Good. Most of your answers align with what we’ve heard. There are a few inconsistencies, but nothing major.”

Coming from an inspector of Division 3, that seemed unusually lenient. Still, Sakiri reclined in his chair and continued.

“In the end, this all boils down to a form of brainwashing. Arcane exploited your miserable lives and manipulated you from childhood.”

“What?”

Canis’s eyes narrowed. He would’ve preferred to be called a villain. This statement erased everything he had lived through.

“Master never forced me to do anything. The choices were mine. Everything I did—I did because I chose to.”

Arin grew tense. She knew how dangerous it was to speak out against an investigator. But Sakiri’s metallic form, as seen through menarche, remained unchanged.

“A classic tactic,” Sakiri replied. “They rescue you, make you look up to them, then say something like, ‘I need this—but only if you want to.’”

Canis couldn’t understand what Sakiri was trying to say. He’d come here to pay for his crimes. And now they were talking about brainwashing? Was this a prelude to sending him to a mental facility?

"So what exactly are you asking me to do? What difference does it make if I admit to being brainwashed?"

“If you do… both you and Arin will be acquitted.”

Canis froze, his expression blank. He had followed Arcane to break a criminal out of Inferno and had endangered the lives of hundreds of mages in the process. Even if he hadn’t been the mastermind, claiming innocence seemed completely absurd.

“Innocent… us?”

“Yes, if you admit to being brainwashed. The Magic Association is focusing on that angle right now.”

If he admitted to being brainwashed, he’d be released. Free. Both he and Arin could live new lives as if nothing had happened.

Canis felt the blood drain from his face. What disturbed him most wasn’t the idea of admitting it—it was the Association’s logic. Why were they going out of their way to release criminals when they should be doing everything they could to catch them?

“Oh, and one more thing,” said Sakiri, flipping through a folder as if suddenly remembering something. Maybe she really had just remembered—but it was always hard to read her.

“Arcane’s personal attorney sent us an official letter. She requested anonymity, but the document is fully notarized. Here—these are records of his assets, his will, and his inheritance.”

“His… will?”

Sakiri slid the papers across the table without saying another word.

Canis picked them up with trembling hands. Arcane’s will was surprisingly simple. Written in his familiar, plain handwriting, it listed the matters to be handled after his death.

One line stood out:

[Document] All assets transferred to Canis

Master...

Canis never believed Arcane to be warm-hearted. He hadn’t expected secret gestures of affection or care. Arcane was a man who acted with absolute conviction, and never pretended to be otherwise.

Still, this will proved something: Arcane may not have cared for his disciples’ lives, but he did consider Canis his one true student.

Canis continued flipping through the documents, reviewing a detailed inventory of assets: real estate, including several dungeons, magical equipment, rare artifacts, expensive herbs, and a massive sum in the bank.

One, ten, a hundred, a thousand...

He counted the digits at the end.

4.8 billion gold…

Even for a master mage who lived over 150 years, the amount was staggering. And yet, none of this made sense. One moment, he was being declared innocent—and the next, he was told he’d inherited 4.8 billion gold?

Sakiri scratched her head with a sheepish look.

“Actually, there’s a catch. The reason Arcane left everything to you, Canis, is likely because he saw you as his disciple. But to the Magic Association, that looks suspicious—like a form of brainwashing. Giving you a false identity, a false ego.”

She paused.

“In their view, Arcane manipulated you. That’s why they’re willing to let you go. Because otherwise, they can’t justify you committing such terrible acts. But if they do let you go…”

“…then I’m not really his disciple, and I can’t inherit anything,” Canis finished for her.

Sakiri gave her first gentle smile—but there was nothing soft behind it.

“Exactly. The one Arcane left his estate to was the brainwashed Canis. Not the real one. So the money technically doesn’t go to you anymore. It becomes illegal property and will be seized by the Association. Still, I’d like to hear your thoughts before that happens.”

She slid a final document across the table.

“If you admit to being brainwashed, you’ll be acquitted. All that’s left is for you to sign this.”

Canis stared down at the paper.

A memorandum of renunciation.

If he signed it, he would officially be recognized as a victim—used by Arcane. He’d be innocent… but the inheritance would go to the Association instead.

In the end, the Association chose the 4.8 billion gold over justice for two young criminals.

“I can give you more time,” Sakiri said, “but delaying might hurt your trial. It may seem like you’re resisting. And honestly—doesn’t it make sense? Of course you were brainwashed. Otherwise, how could you and Arin have done what you did?”

Canis felt his mind go numb. He wasn’t afraid of dying in battle. But here, they were telling him he wasn’t even guilty. That all his choices weren’t his own.

This place… is no different from Radum.

The outside world wasn’t some warm sanctuary. It was just another battlefield—one where power played dress-up in the robes of justice.

As he hesitated, Sakiri stood and stretched.

“Take your time. Maybe an hour—”

“I’ll sign.”

Sakiri paused mid-motion, then smiled and sat back down.

“Good choice. Here…”

She handed him a pen. With mechanical movements, Canis scrawled his name on the line.

The sound of the pen scratching against paper filled the silence.

Sakiri took the document back and nodded with satisfaction.

“Congratulations. You’re free. Honestly, this worked out well. If you’d hired a lawyer, things might have gotten messy.”

Lawyer? The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Maybe he should’ve…

No. Sakiri wasn’t lying. If the Association had any interest in fairness, they wouldn’t have brought in a waiver in the first place.

“What now?”

“Well, you’re free to go.”

“No release procedures?”

“None. Just walk out.”

It was like watching a peddler being chased off someone’s porch. Canis understood—Sakiri didn’t see them as people. This whole process had taken two hours, and all for one reason: to recover Arcane’s fortune.

Worse than the humiliation was the powerlessness. He now truly understood the strength of the man who dared challenge the continent alone.

Canis straightened, his resolve hardening. He was a battle mage. And now, he had nothing left to lose.

“Hey,” he called as Sakiri neared the door.

“Did you say something?”

“You’re a mage, right?”

“Hm? You could say that. Everyone in the Association is.”

“What rank?”

“Official 5th-grade.”

So that’s the level of their investigators. A certified 5th-grade mage.

“I won’t stop here,” Canis said. “I’m not done yet.”

“That’s how it should be. Good. Then go.”

“Someday… I’ll make you my subordinate.”

Sakiri paused with her hand on the doorknob. She turned back, smiling faintly.

“Then you’d better study hard. This position’s not easy to earn, you know. But if that day ever comes…”

She placed a hand over her heart.

“I wish you the best.”

Canis didn’t answer. He simply watched her go, realizing how coldly pragmatic she truly was. Bowing your head cost nothing. And no one knew what the future held.

Once Sakiri was gone, Arin turned to him with a grin.

“Well, you made the right choice.”

“Seriously… the world’s full of strong people.”

Canis smiled faintly. A new fire stirred in his chest—the same feeling he had when he first met Arcane.

“Let’s get stronger, Arin.”

“Yeah…” she whispered.

Arin stared at the door Sakiri had exited through. Canis will come back here someday, she thought. This isn’t the end for them. And if that’s true, then I can move forward too.

After leaving the investigation room, Sakiri headed straight for the inspector’s office. Considering the weight of the case, the resolution came surprisingly easily. Arcane’s death had simplified matters. There were no legal complications, and Alpheas’s admission of guilt had played a significant role in settling everything.

The inspector’s office was a lavish room with gleaming marble floors. Standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back was a man known as the Iron Inspector— a legend in Inspection Division 3.

“Inspector General, here are the settlement documents for the case,” Sakiri said.

“Leave them on the desk.”

She placed the folder down, intending to leave as usual. But this time, curiosity got the better of her. She hesitated at the door, then turned back.

“Is the Alpheas case really closed?”

“Why do you ask? Do you think someone higher up will intervene?”

“A six-month suspension seems light. But there’s been no backlash. If this had happened 40 years ago, considering there was no intent to harm and the 4.8 billion gold was converted into jewelry… maybe it really is a fair resolution.”

“Then why question it?”

His reply confirmed what Sakiri had suspected. She clicked her tongue in frustration. She hadn’t meant to say so much, but now that she had, taking it back would only make things worse.

“I was just wondering... if atonement had anything to do with it.”

The inspector remained silent for a long time. Then he slowly turned around to face her.

“I did feel sorry for Alpheas,” he said at last. “But personal feelings never decide the punishment of a criminal.”

“Understood. I spoke out of turn. I apologize.”

“Go on. You’re dismissed.”

Feeling awkward, Sakiri bowed and quickly left the office. The man may be a relentless force against criminals, but within the Society, he was just another mage, subject to the authority of those above him.

After a moment, the inspector opened the file she had left behind. He read through the report carefully, then picked up a fountain pen and hovered it over the approval line. Memories flooded his mind—decades’ worth. He was an old man now, with gray hair, but he could still feel the sting in his jaw from the punch he took at Alpheas’s house all those years ago.

“Sheesh... I should’ve brought a gift,” he muttered.

He hadn’t visited Alpheas since that incident with Erina. Pride had kept him away, unwilling to admit he had lost. But over the past 40 years, the photon quantum theory had advanced and revolutionized the world. Even now, it continued to evolve. There was no denying how much of that progress was thanks to Alpheas’s genius.

“Hah... consider this a belated gift. The Gold Circle belongs to you now.”

With that, the inspector signed the document.

Ardiano Sarov.