Opportunity
Opportunity
It was an old memory.
The memory of the day he'd received word that an ancient altar built for the Demon God had risen as a dungeon, and under the king's orders, he'd hired silver-rank adventurers and headed for the White Mountains at the westernmost edge of Itisel.
Since he had to move in secret, he'd kept his identity as hidden as possible and moved quietly, and the fact that they'd managed to finish their investigation without incident was all well and good. But due to a series of setbacks, they'd ultimately ended up resupplying at a small village a little ways from what was then nothing more than a nameless hamlet called Ogwen.
For a village beyond the reach of its lord's administration, it was remarkably well-kept, and with capable hunters among them, the process of resupplying was extremely smooth. But what caught Widra's attention amidst all that was a small brat.
"Mister, are you a mage?"
A bold little boy, with black hair rare in Itisel and deep navy eyes that gleamed with particular brightness, had approached him with a composure rarely seen among his peers and a clarity of pronunciation that stood out.
"What makes you think so?"
"Your attire looks typical of a mage."
Typical, was it? The thought that this was a child with a remarkably rich vocabulary flickered through his mind, but what lingered more was the child's attitude—despite thinking he was a mage, the kid approached not with anticipation or interest, but with an extremely cautious demeanor.
"I am indeed a mage."
"Then could you perhaps tell me how I should start if I wanted to learn magic?"
It wasn't 'show me magic' or 'I want to use magic.' The unchildlike notion of asking what kind of preparatory steps one should take to learn magic was enough to pique his interest.
After chatting about this and that, Widra learned that the boy wanted to learn magic based on academic curiosity. Until the hired adventurers finished their work, Widra decided to briefly place his hand on the boy's back and teach him how to feel Magic Power.
And then, he was appalled to discover Magic Power—something that by all rights shouldn't have been there—naturally suffused throughout the child's body.
Quietly deploying the Magic Power visualization magic he had independently developed and used for his research, Widra felt a cold sweat trickle down his back as he posed his question as casually as possible.
"...Come to think of it, where are your parents?"
"The people cutting the meat over there are my parents. They said they used to do some adventuring work before settling down as hunters."
Just as at their first meeting, he hadn't sensed Magic Power from the two hunters. Widra, who had worried that the village might somehow be connected to the Demonfolk, quietly exhaled in relief.
It wasn't that there was any particular friction with the Demonfolk, but... as a species that had lived for generations with a Demon King appearing and heroes standing in opposition, caution was unavoidable. The very reason he was searching for the altar of the ancient god called the Demon God—because it was the god of the Demonfolk—was in the same vein. Finding a child with Magic Power in a settlement at the foot of that mountain range made it stranger to not be wary.
But if the parents were human, then that meant this child was human too.
'He might be the first in human history.'
From birth, only the Dragon Race and the Demonfolk could use magic. To be born bearing Magic Power was a privilege permitted only to them under the gods' design.
Until Noigardmwi, one of the great dragons who had lived since ancient times, granted the technique of refining Magic Power to produce Mana to all races without demanding any price, magic had been the sole domain of those born with permission to wield Magic Power.
"Have you ever heard from anyone, or learned, how to operate Mana?"
"No. We don't get many visitors in our village. Adventurers are out of the question, of course."
His heart began to race with astonishment.
How could he not be shocked, encountering a situation that might be the first in human history in a completely unexpected form? And what of the probability that a boy bearing Magic Power would chance upon a mage who had devoted his entire life to researching it?
'Surely the gods guided this.'
Steadying his trembling heart, Widra channeled a minuscule amount of Magic Power through the hand on the boy's back and began operating it within the child's body. He felt the inside of his mouth go dry.
The tiny trickle of Magic Power he sent in was the culmination of Widra's lifelong research.
Magic Power near the maximum limit that a human body could operate without any strain. It was Magic Power insufficient to even properly cast a single fireball, but it was the result of research pursued solely with the hope of the possibility of humans wielding Magic Power. An ordinary person couldn't even perceive it.
"Oh? Something's moving."
But at the boy's reaction—finding it fascinating and gazing down at his own chest even though Widra had only inserted it and said nothing—Widra barely managed to suppress the urge to burst into cheers and sobs as he forced out an answer.
"That... is Magic Power."
"Ooooh."
In a situation that was no different from having his life—devoted entirely to the path of magic—validated, Widra was genuinely moved, but he didn't show it. However, swept up in a torrent of emotion he hadn't felt in so long, he forgot that his conversation partner was a young child and continued his explanation.
"Magic cannot be manifested without theory, but feeling Magic Power relies on sensation. Would you try concentrating your attention on the Magic Power I just sent to your chest?"
"I'm concentrating as hard as I can. What should I do after this?"
"I'll help you. Slowly. Very slowly, try to move it toward your palm."
He didn't have the leisure to find it odd that the boy accepted his words without any questions, even as Widra mixed in terminology that showed no consideration for his age.
Magic Power was like a body one possessed from birth. As such, it was something that could be moved at will according to one's own volition. Unlike Widra himself, for whom it was no different from forcibly attaching a limb that didn't exist, Widra firmly believed that with just a little help, the boy would surely be able to operate Magic Power. He focused every nerve on the Magic Power.
"Oh."
And the boy moved the Magic Power with such natural ease. An amount far greater than what Widra had initially put in.
"Oooh. Now that I've done it once, it's not exactly at will, but I can move it, huh?"
"...That is the foundation for learning magic."
The true foundation of magic, which before the Demonfolk existed had been permitted only to dragons.
"Would you like to become a mage?"
"I never specifically set my sights on becoming a mage. It was more that, since magic exists, I definitely wanted to learn it at least once."
He might well have been so fascinated and delighted by the new sensation that he'd become completely absorbed in it, but seeing the child react with a 'So that's what it is' attitude and immediately refocus on the conversation, Widra made up his mind.
"If you wish it... not right away, but I can become your teacher."
"Really?"
"Of course. A true mage does not lie."
Because magic began with the Dragon Speech, one must never treat words lightly, and thus one does not speak falsehoods. Even if speaking lies didn't actually weaken one's magic, it was believed that the price would surely one day consume the mage.
That was why the great dragons never spoke lies, and the mages who learned from them also did not lie.
It was now such an antiquated tenet of the past that many no longer kept it, but Widra was one of those antiquated mages.
"You see, Mister is doing very important work right now. To completely finish that work... it will take at least four years."
"Then I'll be nine years old."
He'd already grasped the concept of numbers that firmly. He was certainly a bright child.
"That is a very long time. If by then you have thoroughly mastered the method of operating Magic Power I've just shown you, and you genuinely wish to learn magic... I will move heaven and earth to make you a proper mage."
If he had his way, he'd rush to the child's parents right then, explain everything, gain their consent, and have the boy accompany him on his return journey. He wanted to cast aside all the matters tangled up with the Imperial Divine Council's prophecies and the Demon God's altar and impart his teachings to the child.
But he mustn't. This child might well play a significant role in the advancement of humanity's magical studies, but making the child's life unhappy for that reason was the wrong path.
Five years old was still young. An age where neither persistence nor interest lasted long. If a child that age could train consistently for four years and fully master Magic Power, then it wouldn't be too late to persuade the parents then.
Even if the child later lost interest in magic and refused to learn... it would still be possible to receive the child's help under various conditions. Compared to the fact that there hadn't been a single person able to assist his research until now, it would be a breakthrough. And as he helped out, the child might regain interest in magic.
That was why Widra had been able to smile and make that promise with the boy.
And exactly three years later, he came to regret that choice.
Massacre.
The news that reached him while he was dispatched to the Empire was one of despair.
At the devastating report that no trace of people could be found except for a grave built by someone unknown—someone whose survival was uncertain—Widra, heedless of the countless gazes around him, wept for the first time in his life.
He could not help but rage at the fact that the encounter he had thought to be a fateful meeting guided by the gods had been trampled underfoot by Demonfolk worshippers serving the Demon God. And so he'd headed for the front lines, and after fighting for years, he'd felt the need to research the Demonfolk and returned to the capital, burying himself in the library—that had already been years ago now.
Widra, who had been driven by the fury of having his life's meaning denied, not knowing toward whom the gods' care was truly directed, concluded his long reminiscence and opened his eyes, which he'd briefly closed.
He was now a boy grown so much that it was hard to find the traces of his childhood appearance.
The boy, who'd grown so large he wondered if he was truly fifteen, not only bore the same black hair and navy eyes but also unmistakably possessed Magic Power. The way it naturally enveloped his entire body, like aura, was firm proof that he had steadily trained his Magic Power even without Widra's instruction.
"It seems I am the only person on the continent, aside from dragons and Demonfolk, who can properly teach you magic."
That fact alone made Widra feel as though his past life was being rewarded once more.