The Toolmaker's Gift

Grimer the fence. He was a young man with a head full of dreams about making things — bold enough to stake his life on a question to a mage. The problem was that the mage he'd asked happened to be me.

I had only just set foot on the path. Every day I practiced constructing my inner world, trying to peel the Neophyte label off my name — but reshaping the form of my mana was still about as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠far as I could go.

Was someone like me supposed to have a deep well of knowledge about magic tools? Of course not. Not even a drop. In a single instant, every scrap of mage's bluster I'd been wearing became meaningless. I was reminded, rather sharply, why a man ought to live at his own level.

"This here's a killing-intent detector I made myself!"

And there was Grimer, standing right in front of me, showing off his work. In his hand sat a single blue lantern. I looked closer. It was a mana stone.

"So you made it from a mana stone."

"Yes, yes! I borrowed the power of a certain magic tool, but I used the special force dwelling inside the mana stone to change its form!"

The moment I pretended to know what I was talking about, Grimer's eyes lit up with an enthusiasm that was almost painful to look at.

I already told you I'm not an expert.

"Mana stones hold boundless power! The way I see it, even without wielding magic like you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mages do, we might still be able to make magic tools with a mana stone's power!"

A mana stone was as close to mana as anything in this world could be. If you used one, making a magic tool wasn't impossible. There was real sense in what he was saying.

Grimer's face was bright. Mine, behind it, was sinking deeper into thought.

The life flames I absorb use mana stones as their main driving force, too.

And among the monsters, there were beings that traced their origin back to the Primordial Mage. The Third Eye carved into my arm — the thing they called a Dragon's Eye — was one such remnant.

Maybe...

Maybe every mana stone held inside a monster's body had its origin in a mage. Just like the great cycle of this world itself. Monsters devour mages and produce mana stones. Mages absorb those stones and raise their mana. I was the exception — I swallowed the stones whole — but even ordinary mages used a mana stone's power to refine the quality of their own mana.

A vast world. Like a mill wheel, it turned and turned without end.

The thought landed, and an unexpected realization came flooding in behind it. My eyes flew wide.

Mana was close in nature to water — an endless structure of circulation ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠upon circulation. Every principle in the world, in the end, was born from a cycle. No matter the thing, its current held steady. That current was not something a human's shallow thinking could break.

Every circulating structure in the world settled into mine. The realization was an expansion of the world I had built. The quality of my mana rose. A single insight sent ripples through my mana as a whole.

I shuddered at an enlightenment I had never seen coming.

So this is what it feels like.

I understood now why mages hungered for realization, why they clung to it so desperately. I was still nothing more than a Neophyte — but if insights like this kept stacking, I would climb to higher ground eventually.

"Thank you, Grimer."

"Hm?"

He blinked at me, completely lost. I had meant it.

"And you're right. If you use mana stones, you should be able to make magic tools."

His face lit up on the spot.

"I knew it!"

I had stumbled into a realization. He had been chasing this one for a long time. No wonder he looked so pleased.

Magic tools, huh.

According to Zorbanof, there were specialist magic-tool artisans even among the mages. Most of them, though, were mediocre by a mage's measure. With no way to raise their own standing through magic, they leaned on tools instead. Bormora, the mage who had created Leksan, was probably the same sort. I had felt it in his work — the ache of something never reached, a hunger left unanswered. The regret of a man who had never become great as a mage.

That was why mages tended to look down on magic tools. I didn't see it that way. There was nothing shameful about a person using a tool.

They say magic tools are common in the capital.

Like the ones I'd seen monster hunters carry, years ago. The capital was full of them. In Laoren, you almost never saw one. If magic tools ever reached this city, the hunters would grow that much stronger — and that would mean safer streets for everyone who lived here.

"Grimer. You said your goal was to make magic tools without a mage's help."

"Ah — yes, that's right!"

I was a layman when it came to magic tools, but I could tell him this much.

"The direction of your research is a good one."

That was my hope, more than anything. Still, I wanted that hope to become real someday.

"There's someone who would find your magic tools interesting."

Grimer's passion was the genuine article.

"Laorio, the guildmaster of the monster hunters. He'll take an interest in your talent. Give him my name and he'll see you."

A toolmaker with a mage's personal guarantee. Laorio wouldn't brush that off lightly.

"In exchange, I'd like you to make magic tools that monster hunters can use someday."

"Monster hunters, you say?"

"That's right. Monster hunters."

He didn't think about it long.

"Chances like this don't come twice. A mage putting his name on the line — you'd have to be an idiot not to grab it!"

He was a bright kid, in more ways than one. And that, in its own way, was what worried me.

"My name is Haren. Just pass that name to the monster hunter guildmaster."

Laorio would see Grimer's worth. I was sure of it.

"Haren! I'll remember that name, I will!"

If Grimer grew the way I thought he would, a lot would have changed by the time I came back to Laoren. One last gift for my hometown.

"And just so we're clear — don't treat other mages the way you treated me."

The rest of them might not take kindly to him. They'd call it a commoner trespassing on their domain. I was a mage now, and I still didn't think much of the breed.

I put some real feeling into the warning. Grimer nodded.

"Come now, I know how to read a person. I know I'd be dead if I pulled that on just anyone."

Do I look that easy?

I'll just tell myself I have a kind face.

Which reminded me — Leksan was still here. I dug through my pocket and pulled out the skull-shaped tool.

"More importantly, Grimer. Separate from what we just talked about — can you tell me anything about this magic tool?"

"A magic tool belonging to a mage!"

His eyes lit up all over again. Good. At least he was interested.

I ignored the shouting and held Leksan out for Grimer to see. I wasn't about to put it in his hands, though. If the thing decided to brainwash him, we'd have a real problem. I still didn't trust Leksan.

Grimer didn't need to hold it. He circled and crouched and peered, studying it from every angle, his eyes darting furiously behind his mask. After a long while, his gaze locked onto one particular spot and stayed there.

"...Did a mage really make this?"

He looked like a man who had just recognized something. Maybe a fellow maker saw things the rest of us couldn't.

"For now, yes."

"Is that so? I've seen my share of magic tools, and this one has some strange parts to it."

He examined Leksan with real care.

"Strange how?"

"A magic tool is ultimately a vessel that discharges the mana a mage has imbued it with, isn't it?"

Even a layman like me knew that much. Once the mana ran dry, the thing simply stopped working.

"This one... how do I put it. It's almost like a living thing."

"Like a living thing?"

"Yes. If I had to say, it's more like a monster. Or a monster given the shape of a tool. The structure is trying to sustain its own mana."

Sustain its own mana. I looked down at Leksan. It had tried to gather human corpses and build itself a body — using other people's flesh so it wouldn't have to spend its own strength.

He's not wrong.

Bormora. There was more to that mage than I'd thought.

My eyes drifted to the glove beneath my gauntlet. Leksan had always looked faintly bitter, faintly wistful, whenever it regarded that glove. Maybe, as one magic tool looking at another, it had recognized a kind of death.

"Leksan."

Prickly as ever. I still didn't know what kind of mage Bormora really was — but he was starting to look like someone I couldn't afford to take lightly.

"I hope that was of some help to you, Lord Haren."

"Thanks. That's enough."

For someone who knew nothing about making magic tools, it had been useful information. And I now had one more reason to track Bormora down.

That was all I needed. I tucked Leksan back into my bag and turned to go.

"Then let's meet again once you can actually make magic tools, Grimer."

How far he would get with mana stones, I couldn't say. Honestly, shaping a mana stone into something that functioned like magic was a mage's territory. It wasn't work for a layman who had never even constructed a world.

Still, a little hope had taken root. An age when humanity could forge magic tools and stand against monsters without any mage at all — and the thought that he might be where that age began.

If that day had come sooner, Dreygan might never have had to go through what he did.

I thought of my other teacher, and a bitter smile tugged at my mouth. I was a mage myself, but I didn't want to look down on what ordinary people could do. I hoped for a world where you didn't have to lament not being one.

"Wait — could you wait just a moment? Really just a moment?"

The second I looked ready to leave, he came hurrying after me.

"There's something I absolutely want to give you, Lord Mage."

The plea in his eyes was thick enough to touch.

"A magic tool?"

"Yes. When you mentioned monster hunters, I knew I had to give you this."

So he had something in mind. He took off at a run, and since he was the one who'd asked me to wait, I stood there and did as I was told.

I don't know how long it was. Then, from a long way off, Grimer came pounding back toward me.

"Lord Haren!"

What he was carrying was a gauntlet. I stared at it, puzzled, as he held out the cloth-wrapped thing and pressed it into my hands.

A strange-looking gauntlet, as if black reptilian scales had been packed tightly together and joined, scale by scale.

"This fellow is called Haneulseo."

Haneulseo. An unusual name for a gauntlet.

"This gauntlet is empty of any mana stone. I designed it as a magic tool, but I couldn't complete it myself."

Well. Grimer wasn't a mage. There was no way a man who wasn't a mage could finish a magic tool. In the end, it was nothing more than a counterfeit with the driving force of mana left out.

"The truth is, I poured my whole life into this. It's my masterpiece."

He looked at the gauntlet with a face full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of too many things at once.

"But back then I hadn't conceived of using mana stones. I was only imitating magic tools."

His fists clenched at his sides.

"I couldn't finish it myself, but..."

His eyes shone the way a dreamer's do — not so different from the way I used to look, back when I still wanted to be a mage.

An unexpected gift.

"I'll put it to good use."

This was one man's dream. You accept a thing like that.

"Thank you! I won't forget this kindness!"

Grimer bowed to me with everything he had. I didn't feel I'd done much of anything for him. But if he was grateful, I wasn't going to argue.

I was nearly done here.

In the distance, a familiar figure came into view. Gray hair, a short spear in one hand and a long spear in the other, doing his level best to look gallant. The sight of him pulled a smile right onto my face.

"Wolfgar."

He had finally stood up on his own two legs.