Chapter 185
Chapter 185
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: The Mage of Mages (5)
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“Let’s see... Stew’s supposed to simmer all mushy anyway, so I don’t need to add that much water, right?”
One more inconvenience now that the system assist was gone.
The sensation of casting magic had changed.
Of course, even before, it wasn’t like I could just yell “Come forth!” and have it pop out. But if I could somehow dredge up the imagery, then after that, I’d feel this edgy, middle-schooler energy gathering at the casting point, and squeezing it out would make it work.
But now... I could actually sense that thing called mana.
*Gurgle-*
This was the third time the water had overflowed from the soot-caked iron pot and doused the fire.
‘What the hell is this...? Should I call it a refreshing spike in blood pressure? Or like chills consciously crawling over my skin?’
“Hmm... If I cool this part down, roll it up round and smooth...”
*Splash!*
“Guhb! Guwaaah! Gack! Ptoo! Ackpth!”
“Oh dear, sorry!”
“Groooh. Big little human. I am troll, but I know three better ways to wake up than this.”
In the end, the uncontrolled blob of water splashed onto the soundly sleeping Notum’s face, and the sound of her fetching fresh firewood instead of her soaked kindling woke the rest of the party one by one.
“Ughhh... You’re full of energy this morning. We arrived here amid all that chaos yesterday.”
“Good morning, Aldrich.”
“Hmm. Hard to call it good, even as flattery. Camping out is tough at my age. We crossed the mountains dodging those mad undead monsters yesterday. Half a day’s rest isn’t enough to shake off the fatigue.”
Aldrich.
The black mage who’d been captured by the Lo-Haram Church and wound up joining the party by chance.
He wasn’t one of the evil experiment crowd; he specialized in soul magic, a somewhat primitive branch of black magic. Aside from being useless in daylight, he was a decent guy and a solid party member with real skill.
“Oh, Notum. Up early, huh? A healthy body houses a healthy soul. Good habits are the shortcut to a good life. Where’d you wash up? I was thinking of freshening up myself.”
“Grok. Ghost old man master. Same method as me no good.”
“Huh?”
“Got washed.”
Aldrich saw Notum’s finger pointing alternately at him and the damp ground, then burst into laughter.
“Hahaha! Figures. You were experimenting with some weird spell again, huh? Mmm~ Smells good. Stew?”
“Yes. I wondered if it’s okay to eat meat in front of an elf... but the party’s stamina matters. Let’s see... Add pablic seeds when it’s half-cooked, and ghostleaf...”
It was a recipe I’d whipped up often back when I played as a warrior. With the system, it would’ve listed the steps right in front of me, but now I had to dredge up the memories one by one.
“Oh, right. A handful of tag berries for stamina recovery? I think I saw some in the cart corner earlier...”
The moment I reached out, remembering the pouch of black berries I’d spotted while grabbing the pepper,
*Smack!*
“This is a personal item I collected with my own labor! Tag berries dry into high-end spices that sell for a fortune inland!”
A small hand shot out from the pile of luggage to stop me.
A redheaded girl who looked about seventeen, with fierce eyes. The Gold Guide caravan hanger-on we’d unexpectedly taken in. Her name was... what again?
“...It’s not like I’m gonna eat it all. Just a handful for the stew.”
“With those huge paws, a handful means the whole bag! I’m Lucilla Aedran! In my merchant life, I’ve never once—and never will—engage in such predatory deals! One pouch could buy top-tier breakfasts at a mid-grade imperial inn every day! Wasting that on a moment’s gluttony? Waste is the most barbaric form of human nature!”
Oh, right. Lucilla Aedran. That was her name, and yeah, she was like that.
She was prickly, but useful.
When we crossed the Blue Line, her skills had multiplied our consumables, letting us spam Lo-Haram holy flares until our eyes hurt.
And these tag berries? She’d been scavenging noticeable stuff around here as things calmed down.
With those new leather pouches stacked in the cart corner, traveling with her meant we’d never starve.
Anyway, morning mood was great—no need to bicker with a kid. Time to adult and coax her properly.
“Get off.”
“...Huh?”
“Annoying? Get off. I pulled that cart all the way here. Wanna calculate the fare for a rickshaw hauled by a Blue Line-crossing hero? Go on, tally it up. Yeah?”
“Th-that’s offset by my contributions to the party and the rewards when we link up with the caravan...”
“Oh? Then we’ll call it even there, and from now on, you’re cut out of any extra profits? Hmm... A hidden exiled elf village... Even scraps of tableware lying around could go gold-class at an imperial auction. You go pick more fancy berries. I’ll sell the holy water left and flip my life. Man, turning down a Manhattan dream while calling yourself a merchant!”
“Ah... uuu...”
“Or—we stay as one-body party members, happily providing what each other needs.”
“Umm... Short-sighted of me...”
“Heh heh. Good girl.”
See? Proper coaxing works.
I dumped every last tag berry Lucilla “cooperatively” handed over into the pot and stirred for ten minutes. An irresistible aroma spread through the crisp morning forest air, whetting appetites.
Yeah. Stuck inside here for a while anyway—might as well enjoy it fully. Even an amateur like me fumbling old memories made a stew packed with fresh ingredients undreamt of in reality. And not real-world stuff, but fantasy food that used to just vaguely register as “oh, tastes like this...”
“Grrrumble. Smells like home. Southern-style stew? Heavy spices, low water for that thick texture... Not just mimicry. Looks good, boss.”
As he deeply inhaled the heart-stirring scent, a shaggy giant approached, reeking of wet dog.
“What kind of werewolf sleeps so dead even carried? You’ve got the best senses here.”
“...Had a nightmare.”
“Nightmare should wake you early, no?”
“Depends on the nightmare. This place reminds me of the old homeland, so I dreamed of our tribe’s village. Saw familiar faces after so long—didn’t wanna wake up.”
*Rustle rustle rustle!*
Borca stretched in wolf form, shaking dew from his fur.
“Eek!”
“This mutt in front of the food bowls!”
“Sorry, boss. Forest like home... slipped into old habits.”
“Home... Sorry. Shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s fine. We’re on the way to end that nightmare, right? Feels like it reignited my resolve. Enough chat—let’s eat. Starving, and forest-deep home cooking. If no one else, I’ll start without manners.”
Borca Dalun. Werewolf from the south, out to find his kidnapped kids. Got nabbed by that super-racist Lo-Haram Church, then recruited to my party like the rest.
While picking a group for the archbishop’s battlefield quest, church intel said his kids were taken imperial-side, so we headed over the Blue Line mountains where the elves were.
No wonder he seemed twice as motivated hunting black mages. This was personal now.
*Hoo, hoooo-*
*Slurp-*
*Gulp.*
“Kraaah! Killer!”
The thick stew warmly filling an empty stomach. Lo-Haram jerky melting soft, shredding along the grain, bursting with umami on every chew. When the rich flavor tired the tongue, the unique spice and tag berries’ fresh tang followed!
Even grumbly Lucilla scarfed her bowl and reached for the ladle. Human tastes are all pretty similar.
*Clack clack scrape scrape-*
*Slurp-*
“Hm. You’re a water mage—okay with hearty meals like this? Oatman sticks strictly to a mage diet.”
“Gahk! Mages have different imagery. They think staying near-pure water helps magic. But I know different from those fools. Airborne vapor’s all water, distilled water aside everything’s got microbes and impurities, human body’s 70% water anyway...”
“Microbes? Distilled water?”
“They exist. Anyway, eating doesn’t mess my imagery much. As long as fried stuff doesn’t cloud it, I dismiss chatter as noise.”
Truth was, even if it did affect imagery, I’d never give up this joy. An amateur stew from dusty memories was this good—what came from famous Lordric or imperial capital spots? Michelin three-stars when the world was sane?
‘Damn. Half my life wasted! System rocks! Game’s ten times more fun now?’
Chills from anticipation. Gotta lure some elves quick and head imperial. Mana sense was handy now. Imagery easier to squeeze without system. Maybe aim for tier 3.
Lost in thoughts, the huge iron pot scraped bottom. Piles of wooden bowls by the fire, everyone saying they ate well.
But one bowl returned untouched. Someone missing?
“Oh. Forgot Oatman the mage.”
Looked up—blue robes and white beard dangling from a tree.
Hung him with the water spirit, right?
“Hmm... Professor. Oatman’s skilled, but he’s old. Frail body—maybe release him now before it strains...”
“Hmm... Don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
He was quiet now, but loosen the ropes and he’d jet-ski straight for the elf village.
Professor glanced where water scent hung thick.
The half-human water spirit wore a visibly “creepily displeased” expression. Cause: Oatman. Mana scan showed moisture gathered at his mouth, mumbling.
Looked like a message spell vibrating steam as a whip...
“Singing... or something?”
“Hmm. I hear it too. Like a serenade bards play in Lordric taverns. Oatman’s gone senile.”
Lucilla recoiled at Aldrich’s words.
“Eww. So this grandpa’s hitting on the water spirit... while dangling like that?”
“Yep.”
“All night?”
“Hmm... An elf watched us overnight, so probably. Unless she dropped combat stance.”
“Ugh, gross. So ‘mage’-like.”
“Yeah. Truly ‘mage’-like. Embarrassing.”
Professor watched Aldrich and Lucilla sigh in unison, quietly shelving his tier-up plans.
‘...I was close too. High-tier magehood needs caution.’
Even prim gentleman Oatman flipped like that. If he, deemed “certifiably insane” by all metrics, went full ‘mage-y,’ it’d unleash apocalypse. Sanity was all he had left—keep it pristine.
Party was a mess of wildcards even he couldn’t handle.
“Time to pack and move. Just lower Oatman bound to the ground.”
“...Dangerous? He’s not right. Could botch diplomacy...”
“Can’t leave him hanging till we leave. No guarantee they’ll even negotiate.”
*Swish-*
*Swish- swish-*
*Crunch!*
*Rustle!*
Sun rose, sunlight filtering into the clearing.
As if signaled, armed elves and spirits emerged silently from trees.
Even mutation-sharpened senses or Borca’s nose missed their stealthy speed.
Elves encircled us flawlessly like one organism. A familiar face chewed bark, stepping forward with her shadow-like water spirit.
*Gurgle!*
“...We waited a day as promised. Thanks for good will to rudeness. Carnelan’s child, Idrasil, permits your entry. Heroes may speak with Mother’s branches, freely if no free will violation...”
“...”
“...Human? Listening?”
*Sniiiiif- Exhaaaaale-*
It’s a water blob. Just a water blob. Living H2O, freshness incarnate, sight alone granting instant enlightenment, transcendent beauty in lifeform shape... ughhhh!
“...Hold on.”
“Hm?”
“One minute, elf.”
Somehow resisting mental pollution, Professor backed from Idrasil to a three-meter-thick tree nearby...
“WAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!!”
*Thud thud thud thud thud thud thud thud!!!*
And slammed his head into it.
“Eeeeek!”
Unlucky elf atop it freaked out and fled, leaves rained, blood sprayed, flecks of pale brain matter mixing in...
“Ah, damn... so refreshiiing... diplomacy... can’t show ugly mossbl before...”
*Shiver shiver, rattle rattle!*
“B-bi-bibia... dwell in my arrow...”
“H-human... I am child of forest, branch of great Mother, unbowed by such... such things...”
*Rattle, rattle rattle!*
Finishing his mad ‘purification,’ Professor staggered to the widened encirclement’s center, extending a hand to the elf.
Eyes and tongue lolling, mind-gone look, blood pouring, tottering steps.
“Good... *cough!* moorniiing... elf. *Cough!* Hm! Ugh! Bit of commotion.”
“G-g-good... morning... human.”
That instant, Idrasil had to admit, pride stung.
This human in hero skin overwhelmed her, noble guardian caste child of forest, with unknowable madness.
Not just her—all naelim nocking arrows ten meters back felt alien terror at the self-mutilating handshake-demander.
*Whoosh-*
Deep forest winds whispered.
Old mage’s piteous love song echoed softly from his tree perch as Professor unwittingly branded the first elves he met with an indelible impression.
“Grok. Mad big little human’s soul just slipped from cracked skull. Saw it clear. Could’ve grabbed it.”
“...Good we’re not all human.”
“Mages barely count as human. Don’t lump us same tier.”
“Aldrich, aren’t you a mage too...?”
“Nah, soul sorcerer. Spirit arts. We barely use mana. Mage souls? We ignore ‘em, crazies aside.”
Of course, he left deep impressions on his months-long companions too.
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