Chapter 35: Magic
Jade Territory.
Reinhard threw the wooden sword onto the weapon rack, the impact producing a hollow thud.
For as long as he could remember, his father, Andrew, had jammed a blade into his hand. How to grip, how to stand, how to swing—his father had demonstrated every movement personally, using hands covered in thick calluses to correct Reinhard's posture over and over again.
Yet, Reinhard had never made even a sliver of progress.
His body seemed naturally repelled by swordsmanship. No matter how much effort he poured into it, his slashes were forever weak and hesitant, and his footwork was always half a beat behind the rhythm of combat.
His father had never scolded him. He had simply repeated the basic lessons, day after day, with a stoic patience.
Now, his father was gone.
Iron Fortress, the place of his birth, had become a graveyard occupied by the walking dead.
Reinhard turned away from the rack and walked toward his desk. On it lay a heavy grimoire, its pages yellowed and edges curled with age. This was a gift from Count Barton.
Reinhard extended his right hand, palm upward. He let his consciousness sink into the core of his being, reaching for the power that had been born within him but only recently awakened.
Mana.
Unlike muscle, it did not require a thousand repetitions to forge. It was simply there, flowing like blood, waiting for a singular will to guide it.
"Using Mana as the catalyst, construct the rune. Shape its form, grant its intent..."
The words of the grimoire flowed through Reinhard's mind. A tiny, complex runic structure flickered into existence within his consciousness. Above his palm, the air began to distort. A red spark appeared out of thin air and expanded rapidly.
A fireball the size of a fist hovered there, radiating warmth and light.
[Tier 1 Spell: Fireball]
Success.
In just two short weeks, Reinhard had transformed from a total layman into a Magic Apprentice capable of stable, 1st-Tier spellcasting. This rate of progress was enough to shock even himself.
With a wave of his hand, Reinhard dispelled the flames and attempted another rune.
[Tier 1 Spell: Light]
A sphere of soft, gentle light manifested in the room, chasing the shadows from the corners. Reinhard felt the flow of Mana within his body, and an unprecedented sense of control surged through him. It was a world away from the stifling powerlessness he felt when swinging a wooden sword.
He would master magic.
However, the number of mages qualified to teach in Jade Territory could be counted on one hand. Most were eccentric recluses who refused to take on disciples. Reinhard had sought help from Count Barton, and the benevolent Lord had indeed introduced him to a Tier 3 Mage.
That mage, a man named Valerius, had initially been cold, merely tossing a few introductory books to Reinhard to satisfy the Count's request. But a few days ago, Valerius's attitude had shifted abruptly. He began to actively guide Reinhard's meditation and explain the intricate details of Mana-circuit construction.
Though his instruction was far deeper than before, he still refused to acknowledge Reinhard as his student.
"I am merely guiding you, not teaching you. Your achievements are your own, and your failures have nothing to do with me." Those were Valerius's exact words.
The Hero dispatched from the Capital was still nowhere to be found. Count Barton's scouts had yet to return with news. The longer time dragged on, the slimmer the hope of reclaiming Iron Fortress became.
Reinhard wanted to be a useful combatant by the time the Hero arrived. He refused to be a burden that needed protection. He wanted to avenge his father with his own hands. He wanted to take back Iron Fortress himself.
His gaze pierced through the window, looking westward. Toward what used to be his home.
In another corner of the castle, in front of a makeshift porridge shed.
Lino scooped the last ladle of wheat porridge into an old woman's bowl. The woman took the wooden bowl with withered hands, her voice trembling with gratitude.
"Thank you, My Lady."
Lino didn't speak, offering only a subtle, elegant nod. Her eyes scanned the queue before her. There were about a hundred people left—mostly the elderly, the sick, or commoners maimed during the flight. They were the last survivors of Iron Fortress, the "discarded parts" tossed aside by the high-speed survival machine that was Jade Territory.
A week ago, Count Barton had ceased free relief for all refugees. Jade Territory's food reserves were hitting rock bottom. After surviving the initial chaos, the Count had issued a new edict: anyone capable of labor had to participate in production to earn food and shelter.
It was a correct, necessary decision. The massive influx of people, once converted into productivity, had revitalized Jade Territory. But these people in the line... they couldn't find work.
Count Barton was powerless to help them. As a Lord, he was responsible for the lives of tens of thousands. He couldn't allow a hundred people to drag down the entire territory's economic system.
So, Lino had stepped forward.
She had sold all her jewelry, the magnificent silk dresses that defined her status, and every non-sentimental heirloom her husband Andrew had left behind. With that money, she purchased grain and single-handedly propped up this small sanctuary.
She was grateful to Count Barton. In their darkest hour, he had taken in the displaced of Iron Fortress and given them a chance to live. Now, she would finish what the Count could not. This wasn't just for her suffering countrymen; it was for Andrew. She believed that if Andrew were here, he would have done the same.
Having finished distributing the food, Lino walked back toward the guest wing, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her mind drifted back to her meeting with the mage, Valerius, a few days prior.
"Make him a Tier 1 Mage," Lino had said, looking at the man whose face was hidden beneath a hood. She had laid down her final bargaining chip. "Once it is done, I will pay you two hundred gold coins."
Valerius had remained silent for a long time. "I can guide him, but I will not take him as an apprentice."
"Agreed."
Two hundred gold coins. To the current Lino, it was an astronomical sum. It meant she had to completely abandon her former life and sell the last vestiges of her aristocratic identity.
If the "Wicked Noblewoman" she had been before meeting Andrew could see her now, that younger self would likely have laughed without mercy.
A small, sad smile touched Lino's lips. She had no regrets.
Returning to their room, Lino saw Reinhard still hunched over the grimoire. His focus brought her a sense of peace, but also a pang of heartache. Ever since he had decided to learn magic, he had become a different person. The despondency and confusion were gone, replaced by a light in his eyes.
It was the light of revenge, but also the light of hope.
Lino didn't disturb him. She sat quietly to the side and began to mend an old garment. It was one of the few ways she could still save money for their small family.
Late at night.
Jade Territory, The Mage's Spire.
Valerius stood before a crystal ball. A servant appeared silently behind him.
"Master, Lady Lino went to the black market in the south city again today. She sold a formal gown from the Capital."
Valerius didn't turn around. "She truly spares no effort for those useless refugees."
The servant's tone held a hint of confusion. Valerius looked at him and spoke.
"In my eyes, she is the only true noble lady in this territory."
His voice echoed through the empty room. The servant bowed his head and fell silent. Valerius's gaze never left the youth reflected in the crystal ball.
Two weeks.
In just two weeks, a layman had reached the threshold of 1st-Tier magic. Such talent was on par with the current Pope of the Theocracy.
Initially, when Count Barton had approached him, Valerius hadn't taken the matter to heart. The offspring of a fallen noble, a boy with zero talent for the sword—what magic potential could he possibly have? He assumed the boy was just looking for an easy way out. He had only agreed to help to save face for the Count.
That was, until he saw Reinhard meditate for the first time.
The boy's affinity for Mana was terrifying. Magicules gathered toward him automatically, requiring almost no guidance at all. At that moment, Valerius had changed his mind.
But he could not take Reinhard as a formal disciple.
Valerius knew all too well that people with such talent were destined for anything but a peaceful life. A genius that shone too brightly often attracted unwanted eyes. Once a formal master-disciple bond was established, it meant he and his school would be held responsible for every action Reinhard took in the future.
Furthermore, what burned within this boy was the flame of vengeance. That fire provided infinite drive, but it was also the easiest path to the abyss of destruction.
Lady Lino's two hundred gold coins had merely provided him with a ladder to intervene—a perfect excuse to observe and guide this genius without entangling himself or his school.
"Guiding, but not teaching."
Valerius watched the crystal ball. The Mana swirling around Reinhard was becoming denser, seemingly on the verge of breaking through a critical point.
The Undead Scourge...
As a Tier 3 Mage, Valerius understood the horror behind those words far better than Barton's knights. Against a Calamity, absolute individual power was the only correct answer, and a Tier 5 Hero was undoubtedly a strategic-level force.
Theoretically, the Hero should be able to solve the problem. But as a Diviner of the Prophecy School, a lingering sense of dread refused to leave him.
"Continue the surveillance," Valerius ordered. "Report every movement he makes, no matter how small."
"Yes, Master."
The servant's shadow melted into the darkness. Atop the high tower, Valerius remained alone, staring at the boy in the crystal ball from across the distance.
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