Encounter. (1)
Darkness Mountain Practice Objectives
The Darkness Mountain practice is designed to build practical combat skills for mages.
Mana density today is not particularly high, so the odds of powerful magical beasts appearing are extremely low. However, for safety reasons, entry above 500m altitude is prohibited.
Debutantes must earn a total of 10 points from the Darkness Mountain practice. Opportunities are limited to 6 per semester, so make the most of them.
1. Magical Material Discovery
: Analysis reports for 3+ alchemy/magic materials (1 point per 3 items).
2. Mana Phenomenon Observation
: Records of spatiotemporal or abstract/conceptual phenomena experienced (2 points each).
3. Magical Beast Combat
: Beast corpse or proof of kill (2 points each).
4. Magical Enlightenment
: Submit a report on personal growth attained in the Darkness Mountain (max 1 time, 1 point).
※ If you encounter any suspicious 'outsiders,' report it to your guiding professor immediately!
“Darkness Mountain practice...”
A nameless man clutched the paper scattered at the base of the Darkness Mountain. His beard-covered lips twisted into a smirk.
“Practice, huh... brings back old memories.”
The paper in his hand burst into flames, the fire spreading to the corpses strewn around him—Imperial Intelligence agents who had been pursuing him until moments ago.
Paper and bodies alike crumbled into traceless ash.
“Sorry about that. But what can ya do? I wanna live too.”
The man trudged onward. The Barrier of Chaos he had woven remained intact.
“...?”
As he departed, a sudden pulse of mana caught his attention—pure, piercing mana that stabbed straight into his mind.
“Hm...”
He blinked and turned toward it. A wind spirit carried the scent of the mana to him.
It was fragrant.
“...Guess I'm gettin' old. Curious about every little thing now.”
Unable to suppress his curiosity, the man muttered like a sigh and altered his course.
Darkness Mountain. On the outskirts of the Imperial University grounds, a perilous zone isolated even from the capital like a deserted island.
The mountain occasionally spawned demonic energy and mana phenomena, saturated with dense mana.
Its environment was so rich that the fish growing in its streams were not only delicious but packed with exceptional nutrition and calories.
“Ah... is this what life is...?”
The lingering taste of fish in her mouth and the satisfying, drowsy fullness. Ifrin rubbed her smooth belly and glanced at Sylvia.
“So, what happened?”
“...!”
Sylvia, who had been dozing off with her head nodding, belatedly snapped to attention.
“Time got tangled. You wouldn't have noticed.”
“Tangled?”
“I wandered the mountain for 20 hours.”
“What? 20 hours? No way. The sun hasn't even set.”
Sylvia then 'drew' a metronome with magic. Her Tri-Color magic manifested a metronome that ticked—tick-tock, tick-tock—every second, signaling the flow of time.
“That's my perceived time. This metronome moved exactly 72,653 times. 20 hours, 10 minutes, 53 seconds.”
“...Yeah. I can tell from your clothes.”
Ifrin nodded after a moment's thought. Sylvia's disheveled attire was proof enough.
She wasn't the type to get dirty after just a few hours—that lofty, noble lady from another world.
“I didn't notice. A mana phenomenon?”
“You're an idiot.”
“...I kinda felt it too? Anyway, let's go to Steel. Deculein's Steel.”
Sylvia's face soured with displeasure. Her eyes narrowed to a single line, glaring at Ifrin.
“Insolent Ifrin.”
“Haa... why this time?”
“Professor Deculein is not your friend.”
Ifrin let out a hollow laugh. It was absurd.
“...Fine. Professor 'Deculein', our Head Professor 'sir' said to report any incidents to Steel. He was nearby, right? Let's go.”
Ifrin walked along the stream. Sylvia followed.
Soon, they spotted a wooden steel dagger embedded in midair.
“Is this Professor Deculein's favorite...?”
“Insolent Ifrin.”
“...Professor 'sir's favorite?”
Up close, it was a curious shape.
Like sharp icicles on both sides, or flat crystals.
Anyway, Ifrin tapped the wooden steel and spoke.
“Ah... ah. Can you hear me?”
Ifrin waited.
A low hum resonated... and a response came.
—What is it.
“Phew.”
Ifrin sighed in relief. She turned to Sylvia.
“You tell him.”
“...”
Sylvia shook her head. She didn't want to admit she'd gotten lost.
“What now...”
With no choice, Ifrin spoke up.
“Seems like a mana phenomenon occurred. Time got tangled or something.”
—I see.
“Yes.”
—...
Click.
The connection cut. Flustered, Ifrin sent another signal.
“Hey, Professor? It's a mana phenomenon!”
—And what am I supposed to do about it.
“Pardon?”
—This is practice. Handle it yourself. If it's a mana phenomenon, just write a proper report.
The line went dead. Ifrin stood dazed, while Sylvia shrugged smugly.
“Guess it doesn't work for you.”
“...Ugh, seriously.”
Ifrin's face twisted.
“Anyway, if communication works, doesn't that mean time's fine here?”
“The stream area seems okay.”
—That's not it.
A voice suddenly rang out. The two whipped around in shock.
Rustle—a middle-aged man in robes emerged from the bushes.
“Blondie. This temporal chaos is my barrier. Looks like you got caught in it unluckily. Sorry 'bout that.”
“...”
Multiple fireballs clustered on Ifrin's back, and Sylvia instantly memorized a barrier.
“...Heh heh~ Scary kids, huh? I'm explainin', and you're still so aggressive?”
But he showed no hostility—only curiosity.
“Who are you.”
Ifrin demanded warily. The middle-aged man leaped forward in a bound. He was Deculein's height, solidly built.
He flashed a friendly smile.
“Nice to meet ya. I'm Murkan. Proof's this staff. You're mages, so you'll recognize it: World Tree Fragment.”
“...!”
Their eyes widened.
Residents of the southeastern frontier, the Gahala Desert, often had exotic names. Among desert-born mages, the most famous were Demakan, Murkan, Rohakan, and such.
Murkan was especially known as Demakan's nephew.
In other words—
Related to an archmage!
Entrance to Darkness Mountain.
Practice began at noon; by 3 p.m., debutantes trickled back one by one. They reported their results to the guiding professors.
“Confirmed some herbs.”
“Yes~”
There were six guiding professors today, excluding chief overseer Deculein—all young faculty. They scribbled scores on the roster.
“Professors!”
A young knight came dashing from the tower, trailed by a group of police.
“Big trouble! Huge trouble!”
“What's goin' on?”
The professor who asked was Kelodan, famous as 'Four-Eyes' for his thick lenses and folksy dialect.
“Intelligence sent an urgent bulletin. Rohakan's entered Darkness Mountain!”
“Wha—Roha—Rohakan?!”
“Yes. He was posing as Murkan, but Intelligence caught on.”
The professors' eyes bulged.
“Intelligence agents and police are pursuing, and they've requested knight support...”
Before he finished, they rushed up the mountain.
Rumble-rumble—
They reached the mid-slope quickly. Knights and police numbers had already doubled.
“Head Professor, sir! Big trouble!”
Deculein, seated on a chair reading a book midway up, looked up. They rushed to him and explained.
“...Rohakan's in the Darkness Mountain right now!”
Deculein's reaction was odd. Even hearing that colossal name, he remained utterly calm, more irked by their sweat stench.
“D-Do you not know who Rohakan is, sir?”
“I know. How could I not.”
“Ah, sorry, so sorry.”
He knew who Rohakan was. And his infamy.
The era's worst criminal, one of the continent's ten Black Beast-rank wanted men.
Overview
: Rohakan's tale
Objective
: Encounter Rohakan.
Rewards
: 1 Item Catalog
: +1 Shop Currency
A massive named boss occupying one slot in the main questline.
Rohakan wasn't a villain. He was a pivotal figure who must absolutely survive until the final boss—a linchpin to carry the main quest to its end.
“We'll commence the search. Will you join us, Professor?”
Knight Rawain said.
Deculein eyed him steadily, then snapped his book shut.
“Very well. But I move alone.”
“No, sir. Do you truly grasp who Rohakan is?”
“Indeed. The fiend who slaughtered dozens of imperial mages—”
The gathered professors, police, and knights gasped and tried to dissuade him.
“You're nothing but baggage. Get lost.”
He dismissed them all with contempt.
...Deculein had no choice. He had to drive them away.
Unaware of the reason, they were stunned by his overflowing confidence—or utter arrogance.
“...Very well, sir.”
Led by Rawain, the knights gritted their teeth and passed him. Professors and police bowed with uneasy faces.
“...”
As the area fell silent,
Deculein moved alone.
His search efficiency far surpassed others.
“Move.”
In the mountain, he scattered wooden steel swiftly.
Resonating with them all, he pinpointed Rohakan's location.
Priority one: find Rohakan before those knights.
“That brat becomes Head Professor? What tricks did he pull?”
By the crackling campfire's warmth, Murkan spoke. Ifrin nodded; Sylvia bit her lower lip.
Ifrin asked.
“You know Professor Deculein well?”
“Of course. I taught him.”
“Whaaat?!”
“...!”
Ifrin and Sylvia's eyes bulged. Murkan chuckled.
“...Why so shocked? My name should've tipped you off.”
“W-When did you teach him?”
Ifrin pressed; Sylvia stayed silent. Nobles using commoners was commonplace.
“'Bout 20 years ago? He was just a kid then. I was his tutor mage. Needed the cash.”
“What was he like back then?”
Deculein's unknown childhood.
Wild tales unheard anywhere.
Urged by Ifrin, Murkan stroked his chin beard and continued.
“He was a prodigy. Kid devoured university courses effortlessly. But his heart wasn't kind. Parental pressure, maybe, but he lacked empathy or pity.”
Recalling the past, Murkan frowned.
“Mages are often like that, but he was extreme. Poster child for innate evil.”
“...”
Ifrin gaped at the harsh assessment. Sylvia bristled.
“He's one of the most skilled and renowned professors in the magic world now.”
“Huh? That brat?”
“Yes.”
“How? I cut ties with the world for 5 years.”
Sylvia pulled out a Wizard Journal from her bosom. Interviews with the chairman about Deculein, tales of shattering the Demon's Barrier, etc.
Murkan took it and read.
“...Hrm? Right below Adrienne?”
[Chairman Adrienne on Deculein's feats: “I believe Professor Deculein's combat prowess is just below mine. He's eminently practical, in politics and magic alike.”]
Murkan laughed hollowly.
“This kid becomes chairman and already senile? No way. That brat's talent was utterly average.”
“Contradiction.”
Sylvia interjected. Murkan tilted his head.
“Contradiction?”
“A prodigy with no talent? Nonsense.”
“...Hahaha.”
Murkan laughed, eyeing Sylvia. Vitality gleamed in his gaze.
“Blondie, you're a prodigy and genius. But Deculein was a prodigy with clear limits. I saw it instantly.”
“Right, right.”
Ifrin nodded vigorously. Father's letter contents were surfacing now.
Sylvia disliked Ifrin's agreement.
“Think about it. A kid praised as prodigy grows up realizing he's average? Watches lesser kids surpass him? Imagines those he mocked laughing at him?”
Murkan recalled.
A pitiable boy at times. But his actions made one think, “Burn brighter in ruin.”
“I figured Deculein couldn't endure beyond that. No one could, easily.”
Deculein had started breaking then.
“But these articles... two possibilities emerge.”
“Possibilities?”
“Yeah. All a scam or staged... or...”
Murkan chuckled softly at a thought.
“...he worked endlessly.”
“Worked?”
Ifrin raised a brow. Sylvia looked skeptical.
No angle made Deculein seem like a hard worker.
“Yes. He's no genius—I guarantee it. But diligent. And that diligence, effort? Talent in its own right, broadly.”
The Deculein Murkan remembered was, at least young, diligent. Spared no effort to grow.
“Though maybe I'm falling for his ploy...”
Murkan tapped the article.
“If he truly grew this much, he must've worked madly. Pushed to death's door. Don't know the extent, but... probably an effort only he could endure.”
Ifrin, listening silently, couldn't agree.
Did he steal Father's theory through 'effort'?
Commit atrocities via 'effort'?
“If that effort overcame his talent... guess the gem rolled like a construction stone.”
But soon, Ifrin realized.
Despite denial, Deculein achieved theoretical advances.
So perhaps... he desperately absorbed Father's theory.
Internalized every legacy in those 3 years.
Studied humbly, honoring Father more than anyone.
“Still, don't trust him too much. Diligence isn't virtue.”
“...”
Sylvia bowed her head. She'd always seen Deculein as a 'sculpture of talent.'
Vaguely like herself.
Thus, strange feelings stirred. It tickled her heart.
If, as Murkan said, he'd worked desperately.
If he was built of effort. Reached his heights solely through it...
Sylvia pressed hands to her chest. Her heartbeat raced unusually.
“Enough old tales. How 'bout it? Take my tutelage?”
“Tutelage?”
Snapped from thoughts, both shuddered.
“Yes. Mine's special. Curious how I gauged Deculein's talent?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Yes.”
They nodded instantly.
Tutelage from an archmage's kin? Irresistible. Worth broken limbs.
“But a condition. I've family in the world—deliver this letter.”
Murkan drew a letter. Ifrin snatched it eagerly.
“Got it! Now teach us!”
“Heh heh, greedy one. Fine. My teaching is...”
Murkan opened his palm. A spirit formed—small, but shocking.
Whiiiine...
All elements fused: the Light Spiel.
Two tiny spheres orbited, then seeped into Sylvia and Ifrin.
“Urk!”
“...”
Ifrin clutched her chest; Sylvia breathed steadily.
Murkan said.
“Accept it carefully. No fuss. Like the blondie.”
“Not blondie, Sylvia.”
“Quiet. No talking, blondie.”
Sylvia pouted but closed her eyes.
Soon, a hot ember coiled in their danjeon. They breathed deeply, linking it to their bodies.
“Hoo... hoo... Seems done?”
“...”
“Ahahaha.”
Murkan laughed in admiration.
“As expected. Remarkable talent.”
Deculein had suffered three days and nights; these two assimilated in 15 minutes.
“Now the Spiel will aid your growth. That's my teaching. Fuel for the gifted; fever for the untalented.”
Ifrin and Sylvia's eyes widened as they nodded.
Suddenly, Ifrin eyed the letter.
“Why not deliver it yourself?”
“Old folks always got circumstances.”
“Hmm.”
Then, Sylvia, primly seated on a rock, spoke.
“Tell us more about Professor Deculein's childhood.”
“Hm? That interests you?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm... Not much time, but...”
Seeing talented kids after ages fired him up.
Plus, no one had breached his barrier yet.
“Fine. Plenty funny anecdotes from tutoring him.”
Sylvia clenched her fist silently; Ifrin grinned slyly.
“Embarrassing ones first!”
“Was gonna. Deculein followed etiquette flawlessly—even when I shat, tested it once...”
Murkan knew he shouldn't but prattled on. Their reactions were too eager. Ifrin beamed excitedly; Sylvia took notes.
—But.
“So you're here.”
A voice drifted from nearby.
Its blade-chill tone sliced the mood instantly.
“...!”
Ifrin and Sylvia felt chills up their spines and turned.
In the forest's dark shadow.
A man stood in the thick gloom. His face icy cold; steel rippled behind him.
Step-step.
Deculein approached slowly. His graceful steps terrified them more than calamity.
He stopped at a proper distance. Sylvia and Ifrin froze, sweating coldly. Worst: how much did he hear?
“...Indeed. Long time no see, my disciple.”
Murkan's face had darkened.
“Yes. Long time.”
Deculein met his gaze.
“Rohakan.”
His name, known to the world.
Era's worst criminal. Empire's enemy.
Empress-assassin Rohakan.
“...?”
At Deculein's utterance, Sylvia and Ifrin innocently tilted their heads.