Real Combat. (1)
Lately, intriguing rumors had been swirling around the Floating Island. It was a fresh breeze invigorating the once-stale isle.
"...That Deculein fellow?"
"Yes."
The emperor's younger brother, Kreto, grinned in surprise the moment he received the report.
"Hah... so... that means the sixth problem will be solved soon?"
"They've prepared a venue for the proof."
The symposium's "venue for proof"—the "Proof"—would only open if the proposed solution held convincing power, or rather, was very close to the correct answer.
Therefore.
Preparing the Proof meant the solution to the sixth problem was imminent.
"Impressive."
Kreto was genuinely awed.
Of course, it wasn't confirmed yet, but as Deculein's fan, Kreto had faith.
"About time he took flight."
Kreto still couldn't forget Deculein's midterm exam. Its lingering impact had reignited the passion he'd nearly lost.
So when he heard Sophien was receiving Deculein's tutelage, he'd been inwardly jealous. He'd almost begged to join in.
"But there are some unsavory rumors too."
"Unsavory?"
"Yes. They say 'that place' has their eyes on him."
"'That place.'"
No proper mage—and not even Kreto's guard knight, Pathbender—would utter the name of that "volcanic zone."
Ash Heap was that much of a filthy slur.
"Those bastards make a habit of picking fights with rising stars... but it should be fine. Deculein's strength is renowned in the mundane world these days."
A powerhouse in practical combat. Kreto knew the tale of Deculein clashing evenly with Rohakan—the imperial knights had classified it, but he'd heard.
"Anyway. When the Proof is set, secure me a seat. No—it's an order. Make sure you do."
Tickets would be fiercely contested. Virtually every high-ranking mage would attend.
"Understood. No issues."
Pathbender replied reliably to Kreto's request.
Meanwhile, on another Floating Island at the same time.
Mezisayon Tower, upper floors.
"Amazing! He really submitted it!"
Chairwoman Adrienne read a letter from the Wizard Academic in her private residence.
It stated Deculein's paper was highly logical, likely the solution, and requested verification.
"I heard it's the sixth problem."
"Yep! The real sixth one!"
The chairwoman was chatting with someone.
A mage with black hair tied in a ponytail. Secretive and mature compared to the youthful, petite chairwoman.
"But do you know you've put Deculein in danger?"
"Huh? Why would Deculein be?"
Chairwoman Adrienne was progressive. She didn't judge by "background" or "affiliation."
Her criterion was solely "Is it harmful to me?"
"Plenty want Deculein's head. Gerec the madman, Glipper the killer, Helgen the corpse-mounter... Even in the Ash Heap, his name crops up often."
Gerec, the multiple-personality.
Glipper, the murderer.
Helgen, the living dead.
All infamous in the Ash Heap.
"It's because you hyped how strong he is."
"Eh?! How's that my fault? You lost to him too, Sia!"
"..."
Her real name: Cynthia.
Current alias: Al Ross.
About ten years ago, at just fourteen, she'd caught Adrienne's eye as an unofficial prized disciple. A month ago, she'd been the one who set the barrier in the tower's Dormitory 3.
"I was a doll then. If it had been my real body, I'd have won."
"Liar! Your real body would've died there~?"
"I had no intent to kill any mage then."
Ten years prior, Cynthia hadn't been archmage material, but had talent to top a specific series.
Adrienne, seeing her potential, had personally trained the orphan.
"But why?"
"...Just know there's a bounty from the Ash Heap on Deculein's neck."
"Got it! More importantly, my doll?!"
Al Ross pulled a puppy from her bag. An adorable small breed.
"Whoa! So cute...! Its lifespan's long, right?!"
"Yes. I made the body small on purpose. With mana assured, over a century... It'll outlive you by ages. Why obsess over lifespan?"
"Who knows~?"
Adrienne just smiled faintly.
"Living long is great!"
She knew her lineage. And her lifespan.
To love someone, a fairy's time was far too long.
Fairies lived twice—thrice—a normal human's span, never aging.
But dolls, long-lived animated ones, could share her time.
Discovering and training "Al Ross" wasn't coincidence.
Unaware, Al Ross sometimes couldn't fathom Adrienne's whims—playful, mischievous, annoying, yet respected as master.
"Mind if I see that paper...?"
Al Ross reached slyly.
"No! Iris recognition!"
The chairwoman glared, tucking it away. Al Ross grumbled, withdrawing.
"Hm. Solving the sixth..."
She recalled her first meeting with Deculein.
—Worse than maggot fodder. Social pariah dogshit. Barely human in composition, no cuteness as beast. Talent just wriggling, base filth beyond salvation.
That vicious tone. The rage-spat curses.
She knew why they despised the Ash Heap, but still.
"...Pisses me off more thinking about it."
Her face heated recalling it.
Next time they met, she'd pay it back proper...
"Ah! It's moving! Moving~!"
Adrienne squealed. Al Ross glanced.
The small dog, taking her pure mana as life, yipped and chased her.
Pfft.
Al Ross chuckled softly and left.
Monday, Yukline Manor.
I'd installed a blackboard in the annex. Identical to the one in my lecture hall.
Info
Mana stone blackboard. A pair acts as one.
Enhanced resonance via Midas' Hand.
Category
Apparatus ⊃ Communication
Special Effects
Anything inscribed here transmits identically to the twin.
This link cannot be severed by any mana effect.
[Midas' Hand: Level 4]
Handmade for bidirectional communication inside/outside the barrier, upgraded with Midas' Hand. Writing letters here etches them on the lecture hall board too.
This lets me communicate with the debutantes.
All preparations for this 5th-grade boss fight.
Of course, no one knows when the Ash Baron appears. Professors can't intervene in the event anyway, so I can't get more involved.
"A little help, and they'll handle it."
Fortunately, two debutantes are sharp.
Unlike me, who boasts only thanks to system traits, Ifrin and Sylvia are named with historic growth potential...
—Knock knock. Ren here.
I opened the door. Ren bowed slightly, handing over documents.
"Master. Rumor has it Zeit Viscount is taking over the Phairden Knights. And other intel recorded."
"...Zeit?"
"Yes. Even talk of reserving a wedding hall."
A tricky report.
I read the documents first.
"Hm."
The detail exceeded expectations. With just Ren and Enen, scope was limited, but accuracy on my circle's info satisfied.
"Good work."
Worth the salary.
I handed Ren a book: my revised [Yukline: Understanding Elemental Magic].
"This is...?"
To puzzled Ren, I said:
"Lately, magic echoes from your quarters now and then. Enen's doing, surely."
"..."
Ren looked clueless.
Of course. Enen was studying magic secretly, like Yeriel.
"Sorry. I'll educate her properly."
"The book will. If my subordinate has talent, it's good for me. Tell her to learn."
"..."
Ren stared, surprised.
But such reactions irk me. Obey orders, accept gifts—no need for gratitude or shock.
"If I give it—"
"Yes. Thank y—"
"Prepare to leave."
"Yes."
I exited with Ren.
In the parking lot, a familiar face awaited.
Ruina.
"Boss. Been waiting."
"Shall I chase her off?"
Ren said. I shook my head.
"Let her be."
"Yes."
Ren silently opened the rear door. I entered first; Ruina quickly took the seat beside.
She looked weary today.
"What is it."
"Heading to tutor Her Majesty, I see."
"Yes. Weren't you tomorrow."
"Right. Just info to pass..."
Shrugging, Ruina pulled papers from her briefcase.
"Was gonna question this at the Proof. Already sent to symposium judges too."
"And?"
"But if I do, it might breach contract. You gave me a chance, Boss. So I'm giving you one to back out now."
Sounded like cute blackmail. I asked calmly:
"Back out."
"Yes. Take and read, Boss."
Ruina offered papers politely.
I took them wordlessly.
Indeed, analysis of my sixth problem solution.
Read intently for three minutes.
"...Ruina."
"Yes?"
Ruina hid a smile. I gazed steadily.
"Good questions. Ask them at the Proof as is."
"...Pardon?"
Ruina's eyes widened. Then she frowned frustratedly.
"No, Boss. Think—"
"Ruina."
"...What."
Ahem. I cleared my throat.
She seemed loath to accept, so I'd craft plausibility for conviction.
"Listen well. 'This rune interpretation' was 'pure luck, of course,' but 'more certainly.' 'I am not the old' 'Deculein.' 'This idea' is 'my own realization.' 'This linguistic prowess proves it.'"
"...?"
Ruina looked baffled. No, she hadn't even grasped the languages I'd just used.
"I just spoke nine languages."
"...Pardon?"
"It's right to think no language exists I don't know."
Of course, the continent's "Imperial Tongue" held lingua franca status like modern English, but each kingdom had its own.
Plus tribal tongues, ancient, dead ones... I'd mastered them all for reading.
"I assure you: even a language I've never seen or heard, I master in ten days."
Deculein's vanity filled his study with foreign books; getting translations was tedious.
So I'd learned the languages myself, fluent as natives in nearly all continental tongues.
"Rune is a language too. Took time as runes, but. Understand now?"
"..."
Ruina gaped silently, then forced a laugh.
Heh—hahaha—heh—like a robot glitching.
"Never knew... Boss had linguistic talent."
Pale, she leaned on the window.
Her slim shoulders slumped; vacant eyes trailed the scenery.
"No need to despair over this trifle."
"...Trifle?"
Ruina wrinkled her nose. I nodded.
"Yes. Just 'solving a problem.' You're four years my junior. Plenty room to grow; time's on your side."
"..."
"And I promise again. In five years, you won't block me, nor I you."
Main quest isn't long. Half a year here already; four years max left.
Ruina smiled weakly.
"...Five years to cut ties with you? Cheap deal, Boss. But why five?"
"No need to know. You'll learn naturally."
"Arrived."
Ren spoke timely. Outside: destination. Imperial walls loomed oppressively solid.
Disembarking, I said:
"Ren. Take Ruina to the tower."
"Yes."
"...Thanks for the consideration, Boss."
Ruina waved from inside.
Vroom—
The car left; I walked to the palace.
...The Ash Heap sprouts in thick darkness.
Emotion-devouring parasites burrow into emotional voids, scars.
Twisting host thoughts darkly,
The moment the negativity-ravaged self shrinks in agony.
Starting from weakest points, eventually claiming the whole body...
Ruina staggered back to the tower. Today, the world spun dizzyingly.
She pressed 23 on the elevator.
23rd floor.
Her office.
She slumped blankly in the shabby chair.
Deculein said five years.
Five years.
That measly five.
I can endure it.
Why must I suffer this?
"..."
Ruina's gaze fell on a letter on her desk. Someone had brazenly entered and delivered it.
From the Magic Society.
Your membership has been terminated.
Ruina stared blankly.
Obvious abandonment.
The ones who'd egged her on now ditched her to latch onto Deculein.
Thump—
Heart raced.
Thump—
Body burned. Unbearable dark emotions hammered her skull. Like hot awls at her temples.
These fucking bastards.
Shit-eating mongrels.
"..."
Ruina closed her eyes. Ash rose from her shoulders.
Black particles spiderwebbed, devouring the 23rd floor office.
20th floor, tower study room. Sylvia's team checked assignments.
"All clear here. Yours?"
"Fine."
As Ifrin and Sylvia scrutinized sections, the door opened. Yurojan entered, snacks in both hands. Break time signal.
"Perfect, was hungry. Thanks."
Ifrin grabbed squid legs first.
Yurojan said:
"Finals soon? Study rooms, library, training halls packed. All debutantes seem gathered."
Knowing that, Ifrin had reserved a library spot at 4 a.m.
"~ Finals should be easier after that mess."
"Dunno. Vacation plans?"
"Back to territory. Can't stay at tower long. Need mages there."
The three guys chatted; Ifrin chewed squid, cooling her overheated brain.
Thud—! Thud—!
Dull thumps echoed from walls.
"What? Fight?"
Thud—! Thud—! Screeech—!
"!"
The echoes turned to screams. Startled, Ifrin and team burst out.
"Wh-what!"
Hallway outside: a mage with back turned. Looked like debutante peer Roten.
Ifrin crept closer.
"Roten? Right? You okay? Who'd you fight...?"
Then Roten whirled—. No pupils; mouth and ears spewed black ash like vomit.
"Gaaah!"
Ifrin instinctively blasted magic, shoving him, then fled to the room.
Bang—!
Slamming the door: "Y-you saw, right?! Right?!"
"..."
The other four were stunned.
The sight was that shocking; they needed time to process.
"What the... Ah~"
Ifrin smirked at them, as if realizing something.
"I'm dreaming now. Fell asleep studying from exhaustion. Right?"
"...Dream."
"Yeah. Not real? Haven't slept yesterday or today. Training."
Sylvia moved. No hesitation. She slapped Ifrin's cheek hard.
Smack—!
Massive whoosh. Wrist snap swing. Ifrin reeled, neck twisting.
"Ah..."
Eyes only shifting to Sylvia.
Tears welled.
Too painful for screams.
Lips just flapping—flap—flap—
Wronged and hurting, brows quivering in glare.
"Y-you..."
"Hurts."
"Then it wouldn't if dreaming! You hit so hard!"
To bellowing Ifrin, Sylvia nodded.
"Sorry. But pain means not a dream."
"..."
"Told you."
Ifrin shut up dumbfounded; Sylvia eyed the three guys.
"You?"
Not wanting slaps, they rushed:
"R-real, real. No dream. How could this be?!"
"Talk sense!"
"Yeah."
...Five days since taking Deculein's advice to exercise. Sylvia felt her improved physique, gazing out the study room window.
A bit tense too. Grotesque Roten had rattled even her.
"So unfair... Pisses me off and hurts... One wrong word a crime? Crime?!"
Ignoring sniffling, glaring Ifrin.