Chapter 31
Chapter 31
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 31
Chapter Title: Precarious Companionship
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Nemede School.
It was one of the secretive academies in the DAT world whose existence was known to only a scant few.
And it had to be that way, since most of the materials and spells they handled were illegal.
They knew far too much about ingredients and magic that could cost lives, so they were extremely sensitive about information management.
‘Of course, that doesn’t make them like the Black Magic Society, a cabal of black mages and necromancers who openly harm others.’
Those guys were basically terrorists, plain and simple.
So this place was more like a club for loopholes and shortcuts.
…Of course, the kingdom would see them as criminals all the same.
‘Still, it’s not a bad spot since they keep secrets well. The Nemede School doesn’t even go public until late in DAT.’
That was why he’d boldly stepped into Nemede School territory, even while avoiding black magic like the plague.
These folks had surprisingly long lifespans.
Plus, even if caught, their punishments were milder than for black magic.
It was the perfect place to minimize risk while maximizing gains.
“Here, take this. You need one of the keys I made to get through this door. Every school member has one.”
As they walked down a dark corridor deeper inside, a large door loomed ahead.
Bauman unlocked it, and the robed companions followed him in.
“...Hmm.”
Up to that point, it had a real secret society vibe. They were holding onto their own brand of cool, in a way.
“Uh, Mr. Bauman. We haven’t cleaned up much...”
“We rushed out after scroll research earlier, so it’s kind of a mess...”
Clina’s desk was tame by comparison.
Even in the fairly large room, there wasn’t a single spot to step without it being filthy.
“Ahem. It can feel a bit messy at first. We do clean, but...”
But none of that registered with Regin.
“It’s perfect.”
“What?”
“Stuff you can’t easily see outside... and you’ve gathered all this. Impressive.”
Madness glinted in Regin’s eyes.
Ingredients he’d only seen on screens. Scrolls he’d confirmed by name but never opened.
With all of it right there, he had no attention left for anything else.
‘The place I spent the most time in after researching spell crafting.’
It felt like returning to a familiar, comfortable home.
Some might call it a dirty space.
And yeah, it was filthy.
But sometimes you’ve got to see the forest, not just the trees.
The rare items hidden amid the grime...
“Feels like a treasure trove.”
“...Heh heh. You recognize it all? Well, with stuff from books scattered around, no wonder it’s fascinating.”
“That, and... is this space created by magic?”
“Hohoho, caught on already?”
“...Well, duh. Hiding a room this size inside walls pretty much requires it, right?”
“Oh.”
Bauman stared like he’d made some brilliant deduction. Regin glanced at him, and he cleared his throat before continuing.
“Several founders were masters of pure magic. Not quite on your master Nuada’s level, but close.”
“I see.”
“They crafted this space with magic, so it’s hard to track and very stable. Practically semi-permanent.”
“Are those founders still around?”
“It’s embarrassing to say it myself, but...”
Bauman gave a wry smile as he added,
“Most turned black mages, got chased by the kingdom, or were executed.”
“...”
“But as long as we don’t cross the line, it’s no big issue. We try to keep ourselves in check. Can’t repeat the same mistakes, right? That’d be the end of Nemede School.”
“You’ve got it rough.”
“We watch each other closely. Especially me—I’m the type who might bolt anywhere. Haha!”
It was meant as a joke, but Regin didn’t miss the tension that flashed through the room.
These people, who’d seemed sloppy talking about the mess, were suddenly eyeing each other sharply.
‘People in a position where breaking the kingdom’s laws or slipping into black magic is all too easy... They keep each other in check to avoid the worst.’
Bauman and the Nemede School members were walking a razor’s edge.
“What we pursue is creating new ways to turn the impossible possible—not sowing chaos. If we ever cross that line, tell us right away. We’ll do the same for you.”
“Hmm... Got it.”
“Heh heh. No need to stress too much. We’ve got a mage’s conscience. Not that I should talk, messing with forbidden materials... but we all work together to stay on the right side of that line, so give us some credit.”
Regin knew this well.
A mage’s pride and thirst for knowledge.
This group toed the line somewhere in between.
‘Go mad. Become a criminal.’
Or both.
Honestly, Regin wanted to pass on all three options.
‘I’ll stay sharp and somehow make it out alive.’
To never die in the Tower again, he planned to exploit everything with utmost sensitivity.
* * *
Bauman said there were seven mages in the school total, with only three there now.
‘Ah, four including me now.’
The rest were in the Tower or researching elsewhere.
One man pulled back his robe and extended a hand to Regin.
“I’m Bolend. I overheard your scroll talk—honestly, it piqued my curiosity.”
Bolend looked rough-hewn. More warrior than mage vibe.
“That’s right. Bolend couldn’t ignore the potential your scroll showed.”
Bauman nodded and elaborated.
“Bolend’s goal is boosting scroll output up to five times.”
“...Five times.”
Big ambitions.
Conventional wisdom said three times max, no matter the materials.
Pushing to five? No ordinary feat.
“And Paphoni over there specializes in curses. Not a spell crafter, but she researches cursing souls directly.”
“...”
“Heh heh. Want to chat with necromancers? Ask Paphoni. Her field gives her ties there.”
“...”
Paphoni had a dark expression and pallor.
The kind of face that screamed curse mage without a word.
And she had big ambitions too.
“No one but Paphoni dreams of cursing away a boss monster’s mana.”
“...”
“Then capturing the live boss for study.”
Regin showed mild surprise, but Paphoni responded indifferently, as if she couldn’t care less.
That’s how she was in the game too.
A character obsessed only with her own work.
‘No need to worry about her until after clearing the 10th floor.’
That wrapped up their introductions.
“Alright then.”
“Yes.”
Bauman’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Regin.
“Regin, what scroll do you want to make?”
“Huh?”
“What goal are you using us for?”
Regin had one scroll in mind from the start.
That’s why he’d crazily stockpiled soul flowers and rafflesias.
‘I need to follow that build I used in the game.’
His unique scroll that had once stopped the world’s end.
“A regeneration scroll.”
“What?”
“Not one-use and gone. Multiple uses—up to five times ideally.”
That was Regin’s first goal.
‘Too many monsters you can’t take down in one go.’
He’d designed it to overcome a spell crafter’s limits.
“If you can rip the same scroll multiple times, its cast speed and firepower outclass other magic.”
So he could spam it until the enemy dropped dead.
* * *
By evening, Regin stepped out of the Association.
He’d have loved to pull an all-nighter on spell crafting talk.
‘...But my stomach had other ideas.’
It’d been 17 hours since leaving the Tower.
He’d eaten at Nuada’s, but the vibe hadn’t let him eat properly.
...Those sharp eyes made food hard to swallow.
“What’d you and Mr. Bauman talk about for so long?”
Clina, heading off duty, approached and asked.
“I thought it’d be quick, but hours...”
“Mr. Bauman shared tons of know-how with me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I wanted more, but hunger won out today.”
“Oh...!”
Clina nodded.
“You barely ate, right? Straight from the Tower—must be starving.”
“I had a bite, but it didn’t feel like enough.”
“Makes sense. You were in the Tower till yesterday. Bet everything tasted like ash while adjusting.”
“Haha. Pretty much.”
“Off to dinner then?”
“Yeah. I’ll catch Mr. Bauman later.”
“...Still more to talk about?”
Regin chuckled and nodded.
“Plenty.”
When he’d shared his goal,
Bauman had just stared, half-doubting.
Too absurd to cheer on, but he walked a similar path himself.
“Still, we covered what I wanted to say and hear for now.”
“Good to know.”
Bauman’s words echoed in Regin’s mind.
—Next Friday. Middle Street, Alley 2.
One of the things he’d most wanted to hear today.
Friday. Alley 2.
He knew instantly.
‘Black market trip.’
Bauman didn’t know specifics of what Regin needed.
But wherever, the black market would have it.
For a fresh school member, Bauman wanted to give a workshop-style welcome.
‘Best welcome ever for me. I need that black market.’
Regin fiddled with his bracelet.
Next Friday, he’d offload the smuggled goods inside.
“Anyway, you’re super hungry right now, yeah?”
“Yep.”
Clina smiled faintly at him.
“But dinner alone feels lame, doesn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“Your first return. Tradition says return brew on days like this.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, first return.
Handling coming tasks had numbed him to it.
He’d just recalled how special first returns were for explorers.
“And this is where... reliable seniors step up.”
Clina inhaled deeply, puffing out her chest.
Aiming for intimidation, but her awkward pose just thrust her chest forward—oblivious.
“Why laugh? Am I not a reliable senior?”
“No, you are.”
Regin chuckled and nodded.
“Let’s grab a drink.”
Her talk made it tempting.
Black market stuff was sorting out, so less to stress short-term.
‘Gotta do the first return brew.’
One to celebrate surviving back.
And one to vow more returns ahead.