Chapter 37
Chapter 37
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: EP.11 – The Knight Hates Spellcasters (4)
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It's hardly news, but Lee Han hates mages.
Why?
Isn't it obvious?
He'd endured being a mage's "experimental material" for a full ten years as a kid.
Ten years. That's 3,650 days of experiments, every single day without fail.
The pain he'd gained from that... no amount of time would ever erase it.
Kids discarded every day when experiments failed.
Experiments growing harsher in intensity.
The wounds, scars, and agony that came with them.
Having that much blood drained—enough to kill anyone—flesh torn and burned... the sheer remoteness of that suffering is something no one could understand without living it.
And that's why he could never forget it.
...If he told this to a priest who followed the light of glory, they'd probably say something like?
"It's a trial sent by the gods. Thanks to that trial, you're who you are now—so throw those memories away."
Lee Han's response?
"─Bullshit."
He'd acknowledge it if someone went through the exact same ten years and still said that. But who the hell would volunteer for a decade of torture?
So even if someone said hatred alone was meaningless, he'd wear colored glasses toward mages forever.
Of course, he shouldn't generalize all mages.
Not every mage conducts human experiments.
But why is it...
"Why are all the spellcasters I've dealt with total lunatics?"
Three years as a knight.
Every single one of the countless mysterious cases he'd chased involved a mage.
Seeing with his own eyes that others were suffering—or worse—the same things he'd endured as a child, Lee Han had been convinced from then on.
"Good spellcasters? Sure, they exist."
But good spellcasters were mostly the dead ones.
Irene Windler was no different.
Even knowing deep down she seemed like a decent girl, the mere fact she was a mage meant he couldn't help his constant antipathy toward her.
This might even be some obsessive hatred imposed on him.
A compulsion whispering that mages must be hated.
But right now.
Lee Han had successfully confirmed his obsession wasn't wrong at all.
Look at him now.
"You dare mock my words, you sword-swinging hack. Defying my orders! You lowly scum...!"
Spouting nothing but toxic drivel.
Lee Han.
"Did you come here to die by this lowly scum's hand, you old spellcaster?"
"!!!"
Was all too happy to become the same kind of toxic bastard.
A heavy silence hung over the Swordsmanship Department's training grounds.
Not just any silence.
The calm before the storm.
A dizzying hush, like a powder keg ready to blow at any moment. And then.
"Hm."
Lee Han casually pulled a hand axe from his bosom.
"Let's try a bit more conversation first."
"...What kind of conversation starts by drawing a blade?"
"You're wasting my precious class time out of nowhere—why should I put up with it? Spellcasters spout bullshit anyway, but I'll listen, and if it sounds like more bullshit, I'll throw this."
"......You filthy sword hack."
"Wonder what happens if you take an axe from this sword hack."
"...!"
The old man could rage all he wanted—Lee Han just toyed with the hand axe playfully.
As if saying he'd gladly accept any provocation.
But this wasn't pure playfulness.
Truth be told, Lee Han's mood was at rock bottom right now.
Even after he'd warned so po·lite·ly yesterday, the old coot had invaded his "territory" anyway.
And.
"What else could it mean coming with a whole gang like that? They're here for a fight."
A pack of mages, like street thugs.
Roughly 17 young mages. Proof they were here for a turf war.
For Lee Han, who already had extreme mage-phobia, it was the worst possible situation.
He felt obligated to teach the old spellcaster that life was combat, unleashing genuine killing intent.
"...You ignorant sword hack."
But the old mage who'd seemed ready to act without restraint—Odwal Bernard—suppressed his aura.
His eyes still burned fierce, but he and his disciples didn't draw their staves.
For a knight, it was like not drawing a sword.
He knew it too.
Fighting a knight at this close range was suicide.
"Staying cool for a spellcaster? Makes sense—he's an academy professor for a reason."
But he had to stay cautious.
Mages were active volcanoes that could erupt anytime, dual-personality types who turned violent on a whim.
And sure enough.
"You wouldn't understand."
"...Understand what?"
"You wouldn't understand, I said! How delicate mages are...!!"
The cool demeanor from moments ago vanished; suddenly raging like a anger-management case, the old mage jabbed a finger at him.
"You filthy sword hack! What tricks did you pull on that genius to make her neglect her magic training?! You villain...!"
"Point that finger again, and I'll cut it off."
"It's your fault! You filled her head with nonsense! That's why she's turned so rotten!"
"I warned her."
Their words weren't meshing.
Each just spouting their own piece.
But one thing was clear: neither intended to back down, and proper conversation was off the table for both.
A mage who despised—no, scorned everyone who couldn't use magic, including knights. And a knight with deep mage-hatred.
Normal dialogue was impossible between them.
All that was left was conflict.
In that situation.
"I-Instructor, please hold back!"
"You can't fight here!"
The Swordsmanship cadets rushed to restrain him.
Short time or not, they'd gauged his temperament enough to know he'd follow through on what he said.
The mages did the same.
"Professor! We agreed to resolve this through talk first!"
"Not here!"
"Please, for our sakes, just calm down!"
The 17 Magic Department cadets seemed less there for a show of force and more to prevent Odwal from causing trouble.
They knew their professor's nature well too, which was why they'd followed. Ironically, with their disciples holding them back, both the knight and mage had no choice but to cool off.
And right there.
"For now, both of you should calm down. That would be best."
One man stepped forward, volunteering as mediator.
"L-Lord Roan...!"
At the words of Lionel’s prominent heir, exuding noble blood, aura, and mystique, even Odwal—who'd been acting feral—faltered visibly.
As if he hadn't expected him to step in.
With the mood shifting toward him taking control, Roan spoke.
"Both of you are too worked up. You're just saying your pieces without trying to de-escalate."
Roan's deep, dark obsidian gaze turned to Irene.
She flinched!
But he kept his icy stare, unconcerned.
'N-No, nothing... I think?'
Irene sensed something ominous in the cold glare aimed her way, but she had no time to pinpoint the source before Roan continued.
"Professor Odwal Bernard. Calm down and explain. Why bring your faction to another department? What do you want to say to Lady Irene Windler? Make it clear."
His tone was even, polite, but not retreating.
It carried exceptional charisma.
The dignity of a hegemon.
Lionel.
The majesty befitting northern royalty.
"Mm..."
Even Odwal couldn't act rashly before such dignity.
Though he saw all non-mages as beneath him, he wasn't reckless enough to affront someone of such caliber.
Odwal straightened his collar, regaining composure...
"—What a letdown, old timer. Thought you'd man up and charge, but you're just flapping your gums? I'm disappointed."
"......This bastard...!!"
No telling when he'd reloaded, but Lee Han fired another instant provocation.
Odwal went berserk again, and the Magic cadets could only glare resentfully at Lee Han while holding him back.
"...Instructor."
"What? Better than petty word fights—we clash fair and square. I'm game."
"......"
Once things calmed somewhat, a Magic cadet representative relayed Odwal's grievances—a long, tangled tale...
"So in the end, you're here because the instructor restricted 'telekinesis'?"
Arno's summary left the Magic cadets dissatisfied at the compression, but he nodded anyway, hiding his displeasure.
"Y-Yes. Roughly speaking, that's it."
Lee Han had recommended exercise for Irene's health—no, survival—and restricted her telekinesis, which she used as naturally as breathing.
Not banning it outright, but minimizing it in daily life.
It was his care and effort to get her walking more, healthier.
...The problem was how grating that felt to mage-supremacist Odwal.
"Professor Odwal often says: 'Telekinesis is the foundation and core of all magic, a mage's [primal power].' Restricting it means controlling a mage's growth. Like telling a knight not to do strength training, for example..."
"That from the old timer too?"
"...Just my personal view."
"Figures."
"Haha..."
Of course the old coot would say that.
But as everything connects somehow, Lee Han had to concede one point despite himself.
"Telekinesis is a mage's power—like strength or stamina."
Just as consistent exercise builds effect, magic must be honed through steady telekinesis training.
But he'd restricted it, so the old spellcaster must feel displeased on multiple levels.
In a way, Irene was defying mage teachings, forced by Lee Han.
The guy who'd flipped out over a cough at orientation—him staying quiet this long meant he picked his targets for his tantrums.
"...Tch. Should've said that from the start."
It was reasonable enough, and if he'd led with that, Lee Han wouldn't have gotten so prickly.
Not that he felt sorry.
"Why feel sorry to a spellcaster?"
Lee Han snorted.
"S-Sorry, Instructor. If we're blaming someone, it's me that caused this..."
"No fault for Chick 2."
"B-But."
"One question. Has Chick 2 ever slacked on magic training to attend my class?"
"No! Absolutely not!"
This he could swear on anything.
With the ghost girl in her head nagging daily, she'd never skipped magic practice. Same for restricting telekinesis in daily life.
"She uses it everything except during workouts. Like fetching a water cup when she doesn't wanna get up, or brushing her hair."
"...Kinda jealous."
"Hehe."
She had that diligent-lazy(?) streak, chasing two rabbits steadily.
Hearing this.
"See? No issue. No clue why you're making a fuss, old timer."
He jerked his chin at the old mage like that enough for you? Odwal trembled, retorting.
"You fool, that's not the point! Magic must be pure! No foreign elements tainting her genius!"
"...How's getting healthy a foreign element?"
"Why does a mage need that 'health' anyway?! With telekinesis—no, 'mana'—we can live perfectly healthy! Wasting time piling up useless impurities like exercise or stamina on mana training is far more efficient...!!"
"......Lunatic."
What kind of extreme logic was that?
It was like saying skip food, just pop supplements—no health issues.
Madman's logic.
"Old timer, let me say it again—your logic..."
"You bastard! Old timer, old timer! Don't call me that! I'm still twenty-eight!!!"
".........Huh?"
...Were his ears broken?
Lee Han blinked, glancing at the cadets around.
A questioning look: Did I hear that right? You too?
They whispered back.
"...Twenty-eight? Kunta, your common tongue must still be off. I think I heard wrong. That old guy's older than our grand high priestess."
"You didn't mishear, Kunta. Crystal clear."
"What kinda stunt..."
No mishearing. Lee Han stared in shock at the old man—no, prematurely aged baby-faced mage.
"...Two years younger than me?"
Surely not.
"Didn't trade your lifespan to a devil, right?"
"You bastaaard...!"
Finally, Odwal grabbed Lee Han's collar.
Crack!
"Gaaah!"
It snapped right away.
Meanwhile, watching the old—no, young mage's appearance, Irene Windler thought.
'...Yeah, was gonna anyway.'
She resolved to fix her lazy habits.
Truly, nothing motivates like an anti-role model.