Growth
“...You... you’re really...”
Robin couldn’t finish the sentence as he stared at Jun’s dagger, which was humming with a low driving resonance. Surprise, disbelief, revulsion, and a faint trace of envy all crowded into his eyes at once.
At that reaction, Fortuna carefully sent a thought across their bond. The mental link was a side effect of the soul-string that connected her to Jun; through it, the two of them could exchange thoughts whenever they wished.
Jun, isn’t this a little too outstanding this time?
I’m regretting it too. But honestly, I feel wronged!
Forming a pseudo-core was extremely difficult—Robin had said so himself. That was why Jun had decided to use Realize on the very first attempt. If it was that hard, even Realize shouldn’t succeed in one go. That was what he had thought.
He had badly underestimated what Realize could do. The skill, as if offended that he had dared to look down on it, casually turned his imagination into reality. It was a happy miscalculation—and a burdensome one.
“Jun. Do you have any idea how long it normally takes a beginner in external reinforcement to form a pseudo-core?”
“Uh... a week?”
“A month and a half. Fastest is a month; sometimes it takes two or three. And that’s when they’re pouring every free hour into external reinforcement alone.”
“...Hahaha. I guess I really am pretty fast.”
“‘Pretty fast’ doesn’t even begin to... Haaah. Forget it. Talking about it just makes my mouth hurt. More importantly—try it on the other weapons.”
Following Robin’s order, Jun pulled every weapon out of his subspace and formed a pseudo-core inside each one in turn. Of course he used Realize. Once he had succeeded once, failing now would have been stranger still.
The result... well, there was no need to spell it out.
“...I have nothing to say. Everything else I can almost accept, but you even managed the shield and the gauntlets.”
The difficulty of forming a pseudo-core rose exponentially with an item’s size and structural complexity. That was why even veterans struggled to create one inside a large shield or a jointed gauntlet.
And yet—
Ziiing~
Robin slowly shook his head as he watched the shield hum with power. One impossible reality after another had piled up until he had gone past astonishment and into pure emptiness.
“Haaah~”
“Haaah~”
“...”
“...What?”
“Why are you sighing?”
Robin stared at Jun in disbelief; the boy had exhaled at the exact same moment he had. Instead of answering, Jun scratched the back of his head with an awkward smile.
If I say I sighed because the impact was too weak and I was disappointed, he’ll definitely get mad, right?
In this world—Lumen—aura was almost painfully faithful to its original purpose. No matter how much aura you poured into a weapon, it only improved the weapon’s performance. It never produced the dazzling sword-qi or body-protecting aura that filled novels and comics. Jun found that endlessly disappointing. He didn’t particularly romanticize swords or spears themselves, but he had always wanted to freely swing a weapon that blazed with brilliant light.
Even the gods have no sense of romance. Efficiency is important, sure, but style matters too...
Back when Jun had first learned there was no sword-qi or protective aura and had slumped in dejection, Fortuna had explained it to him. Every supernatural power in a world originated from that world’s creator god. Once the creator set the framework of power, the creatures of that world had no choice but to follow it—so he should just give up on “the sparkles.” She had also added that the sparkles looked impressive but were, efficiency-wise, pure garbage. Why waste aura materializing it when you already had perfectly good weapons and armor?
Jun had bristled at the “the god decided it, so just give up” part, but he couldn’t argue with the efficiency point. Even he had to admit that reinforcing high-quality gear was far more practical than trying to sharpen formless aura into a cutting edge.
Still... giving up on style completely is a little...
Jun lamented inwardly. Fortuna, sensing it, scolded him at once.
Jun, you were whining about romance and style again, weren’t you? I already told you it’s useless.
But...
No “buts.” Stop thinking about it. Honestly, you’re such a kid.
I am a kid, though. Bleh~
The thirty-seven-year-old man wearing a ten-year-old’s face stuck his tongue out exactly the way a real ten-year-old would. The angel who had easily lived a thousand years couldn’t help sticking her tongue right back out at him. Robin, who knew nothing of their true natures, simply found the sight adorable. High in the heavens, however, the God of Light Bright watched the exchange and slowly shook his head in pure secondhand embarrassment.
“Jun. Enough playing around. Let’s continue training.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
Robin rose from his seat and gave the warning. Jun hurriedly shoved the weapons back into his subspace and stood as well. Once Jun was ready, Robin drew the sword he had sheathed earlier. Almost immediately the blade began to cry out with a clear ziiing~.
“After a pseudo-core is formed, every bit of aura you pour into it is consumed by reinforcing the equipment. Normally you inject aura right up to the point where the Aura Core doesn’t overheat. Do the same.”
Jun nodded and pushed his Aura Core to the very edge of overheating. Ambient mana was sucked into the core with terrifying force, converted into aura, and began to swirl around it.
Realize
Jun activated the skill. Psychic energy that had been steeped inside his Psychic Core stretched outward and was immediately absorbed by the aura. Guided by the will carried within that psychic energy, the aura traveled down Jun’s hand into the sword and built a new home—a pseudo-core—inside it.
Ziiing~
The newly born pseudo-core announced its existence with a clear, pure cry. The aura that followed reacted to the sound, spinning in tight circles around the core. Like wind torn free from a typhoon, the aura spread through the entire blade. Cutting power, durability, the very essence of “sword”—everything was reinforced. The whole weapon vibrated finely, producing a true sword-song. It felt as though the sword itself were singing with pleasure, and Jun smiled in the same bright mood.
“Looks solidly reinforced. Now let’s measure the reinforcement rate. On three I’ll swing; time your own swing so our blades meet at the same moment.”
“Yes!”
“Ready. One, two, three!”
CLANG!!!
A crash louder than any they had produced before rolled through the mountain. Birds exploded into the air in panic. Heni, who had been lounging on the magic circle, poked her head out the window to see what the noise was about.
Crack.
At that moment a fracture appeared on Jun’s sword, which had looked perfectly fine a second earlier. The crack ran from the outer edge of the blade almost to the center; the weapon would never be usable again. Robin’s sword, by contrast, was completely unharmed. Jun’s brow furrowed.
“Don’t make that face, you little brat. No matter how gifted you are, you only just picked up a weapon. How could you possibly match someone who’s spent more than a decade as an adventurer? I’m the one who should be upset, not you. I never expected it to shatter, but I at least thought it would break clean in two. A mere crack...”
For all the words, Robin’s expression looked thoroughly unbothered. Too many unbelievable things had happened; he seemed to have reached a state of pure enlightenment.
“Anyway, hold the sword up properly. Let me check.”
“Yes, here.”
“Hmm. A crack of this size... solid Blue. Honestly, what a monster.”
“Blue?”
Jun tilted his head at the sudden mention of a color. Robin stopped examining the sword and explained.
“The Sage’s arrangements weren’t limited to the Potion of Growth. He also created a magical tool that measures the rank of one’s power so adventurers wouldn’t overestimate themselves, and he donated it to the guild that manages the Labyrinths.”
“Ah, so my power rank is Blue-level. How high is that, exactly?”
“Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet. The tool divides ranks into those seven colors; the closer to red, the higher the rank. Blue is the color of people who can truly pull their own weight—people who can genuinely be called adventurers.”
“Oh! Higher than I expected. Being third from the bottom made me think it was low.”
“Absolutely not. The only person who ever reached Red was the Hero two hundred years ago. Orange belongs to the various heroes who fought alongside him and to the empire’s absolute top combatants. Yellow is the level of a prestigious knight-order captain or a Magic Tower’s deputy master. Green is what the officers of those same knight orders and towers can produce.”
“So Blue is regular knight / ordinary mage level.”
“Exactly—and not from some random order or tower, but from a reputable one. After that explanation you understand Blue is nothing to sneeze at, right?”
Jun nodded, then a new question popped up and he asked at once.
“What color are you and Father Leonard, Uncle Robin?”
“I’m Green. Mid-tier adventurers who’ve been grinding through Labyrinths for over a decade usually sit there. Father Leonard is Yellow—”
Even though he wasn’t talking about his own rank, Robin’s face lit up with genuine pride as he continued.
“—and not just any Yellow. It’s a Yellow half-mixed with Orange. Even a Labyrinth Ranker running at the very front would still be half a step behind him.”
At that very moment, inside a sealed chamber deep within the imperial palace—the heart of the Britia Empire—words almost identical to Robin’s final remark were being reported.
“...That is the situation. Therefore, as long as he remains near the target, assassinating the target will be extremely difficult.”
“Then keep trying until you succeed.”
“The casualties will be severe.”
“And? Am I supposed to care?”
“...No, Your Highness. I take my leave.”
The man who had been reporting bowed until his forehead nearly touched the floor, then left the chamber. The young noble who had watched in silence lifted the wine glass from the desk. His face was reflected in the dark surface of the wine.
An astonishingly familiar face—one that looked exactly like Leon—gazed back from the glass.