The Path of Learning (2)
Somehow, I felt exhausted.
I trudged along, heading off to take care of the next thing on my list.
I need to see Hodo, and I should check on old man Jasgiria too.
Is that grandpa still alive? He hasn't collapsed from overworking, has he?
The shop door was wide open. When I pushed it further, thick cigarette smoke billowed out like there was a fire raging inside.
This old man has zero business sense.
Least he could do is crack a window for some ventilation. I'll leave the door open.
“You're here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Who else would brave this haze but me?”
“Kahaha! It's been ages since I got this pumped! My hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold my smoke!!”
How does he spout lines like that amid all this fog?
This old guy's riding a total high. He's always got high energy, but today it's cranked up even more. Looks like chain-smoking isn't calming him down a bit.
“Here, take this first. Only you can use it. It's got a spot for storing someone else's mana and another for your sparrow-tear-sized reserves. Figure out how to charge it up yourself.”
“The design... it's just like that masterpiece you made for the saintess before.”
“You little shit!! Women love that stuff! It's a masterpiece too!”
In other words, couple's matching gear. Not sure if Ashu will like it, but it's clearly crafted with the same care as the last one.
Mithril again, huh. I'm starting to have a lot of mithril on me.
It's the metal that saved my life, so I'll wear it with a smile.
“Alright! Let's head out! I wanna see you wield the next piece.”
Jasgiria packed up his finished works into a bag and stood. I needed weapons to test too, so I'd swing by the inn first.
Two hours later.
In an empty forest outside the city, Jasgiria sat on a stump of a felled tree, puffing away. His face looked like a benevolent immortal sage. You could practically see the “heh heh heh” floating in the air. Why?
“What to do... I've gone and created something monumental again.”
After a series of massive explosions, the hype had peaked and crashed into a heap of silence, like ruins after a cataclysm.
Wood splinters littered the ground ahead of me. To the sides, arrows and bolts stuck upright like tombstones in an ancient graveyard.
The crossbow Hodo made in the dungeon hadn't held up—it shattered.
Without Happy Moment, I'd be in the same state. Or maybe turned into a porcupine from all those arrows and bolts embedded in me.
Tension drained from my body, and I slumped to the ground.
“Whew, thought I was a goner. Warn me next time about the magic or the power ahead of time. I'd at least gear up in armor.”
“Kahahahat!! I didn't expect this much kick either!! Rookie mages blowing themselves or others up with new spells? Happens more than you'd think!”
Most mages dive straight into destructive spells once they learn magic, huh. Steer clear of new spells and newbie casters from now on.
Worried about Lirisa. Gotta slip some warnings into my next letter. Time to play the mentor role.
Still, cheating death wiped out any gratitude or awe.
“I suggested it and sketched the idea, but I never dreamed it'd turn out this potent. Magic's application always exceeds my imagination.”
“Of course. Magic manifests will. Imagination in your head has no limits, and will pushes to make it real. That's why magic's potential is infinite.
To manifest, you express that will clearly in ancient tongue. Finding the method is every mage's lifelong homework.
Priests simplify it by framing clear intent in prayer. Great mages craft their own phrasing for efficiency. So while imagination is formless, will gets shaped over time.
Magic tools are that shaped will. Pre-set intent, like a contract.”
His chuckling face screamed lingering excitement—the rambling length gave it away. Dude's dropping unsolicited deep dives like a total fanboy.
But for an ignorant guy like me, it's useful knowledge. So I listened quietly.
“When a miracle-working mage expresses will to the world, they use ancient tongue, fueled by mana as energy.
Likewise, tool users feed pre-set ancient commands into the device to trigger miracles.
But in my life, I've never seen anyone with your sheer expressive and transmissive power.
These tools demand you shout the intent while touching them—they're that tough to convey. Yet you push your will into others' tools.
To me, you're the type who hijacks foreign-embedded will with that brute-force expression.
That's why I tried this piece.”
“Results: smashing success.”
“Fuuu~ I'll never see another freak like you in my lifetime.
Pride in crafting something epic, mixed with the emptiness of knowing it'll never happen again.”
Watching Jasgiria exhale a long plume toward the sky, he looked set to transcend emptiness into enlightenment.
“Such skills shouldn't go to waste. Why not take an apprentice for a new chapter in life?”
“You think shoving will into tools is easy? Forget easy—does just anyone imagine it? I hunted for talent and quit.”
To me, it's simple—I've seen drones and smartphones, magic-equivalents here.
To locals, tools acting autonomously seems a rare concept.
But I've seen Lirisa infuse fire into blades.
“I've got this cute girl about granddaughter-age who can enchant. If I write her a letter...”
“What!? She exists!?”
Whoa, the enlightened sage turned goblin in a flash.
“One of those bracelets I made before? It was hers.”
“Summon her!”
Straight to the point, no frills—he's got me flustered.
Introduce her as Piterio's daughter Lirisa, and he'll bolt pipe-in-mouth.
“...Might not work. She's timid—falter before a dragon-raging grandpa like you.”
Even his smoke feels like dragon breath now.
Do folks here know cigarettes wreck kids' health?
“Teach her kindly!! Hurry!!”
“......”
What does “kindly” even mean to this guy?
“Hey! Don't be stingy! I made you killer gear!! What more you want?”
“......”
Shouldn't have brought up apprentices.
I mentioned it worrying Lirisa might blow herself up experimenting solo, but this old man's a walking hazard.
Anyway, today's just the first test—needs tweaks, so we scheduled tomorrow.
On the way back, he grilled, haggled, even threatened about Lirisa. I said I couldn't name her but would write the girl.
I'll detail his cranky temper and smoke's harms in the letter to Lirisa.
Won't push her to go, won't forbid it. Might be her dream path.
Her call in the end.
Back at the inn, the sun had set.
Ashu was home way ahead, changed out of priestess robes into casual indoor koslodé.
“Did you hit another dungeon while I was gone? Why are you such a mess?”
Ashu pulled out a handkerchief, wiping soot from my face and arms while healing scratches.
“Tested new gear—way more boom than expected. No major incidents.
Oh, right. Hairil get off okay?”
“Yeah, I saw them to the city gates.”
“Should've gone with if you were escorting that far.”
“No. Hairil would hate that. It's a super delicate time right now.”
“...Delicate, huh.”
Whatever “delicate” meant, it wasn't human standards.
Related to their “fate decided” talk before. Curious what Hairil will be like next time.
“Huh? Where're my change of clothes? Ashu, did you send my stuff to laundry?”
“Oh, right! Bought new ones. Wear these instead.”
Filthy from tests, I shrugged and donned the fresh outfit. But Ashu dodged my question oddly.
No issue with the old clothes, and neither of us swaps on whims—we're not extravagant.
No birthdays or anniversaries here either.
Why buy new just to wear?
“What happened to the old ones?”
“Um... well.”
Ashu pondered hard, like words failed her.
Not guilt or shame—just hunting the right phrasing.
“Ah! Think of it this way.”
“How?”
“Kirgil's vanished clothes will make excellent fertilizer for someone's growth.”
What fresh nonsense is this with her sunny smile?
My outfit's premium compost now?
Why assume they're gone!?
What the hell did she do with my clothes!!