Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: Chapter 12. Letters to Windmage (20)
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Morning. The long night had passed, and a new day had begun.
“Hey.”
“...”
“Hey! Astrad!”
“Please, just! Stop following me!”
The modest memorial rite for Astrad and his master had concluded, the sun had risen, and Astrad had reached the 4th circle.
...Huh?
Once more.
The modest memorial rite for the two had concluded, and Astrad, with an awkward expression, summoned a breeze as if to brush the dust off my knee. Four strands of wind gathered at his hand, drawn by his will.
‘Huh?’
‘Yeah?’
‘Oh? It worked?’
Holy shit. For a moment, I was so flabbergasted I nearly slapped him.
Unless I’d suddenly suffered from extreme narcolepsy or orthostatic hypotension causing a brief blackout, that was the entirety of the process for the 3rd-circle mage Astrad ascending to the 4th circle. He’d bawled his eyes out cathartically, wiped his snot, swung his staff, and that was it.
He’d crossed the boundary separating novice mages from true ones—the 3rd circle—like it was nothing, and his reaction was, “Oh, it worked?”
“Heh heh heh heh. Astrad, that... I’ll pretend you didn’t cry your eyes and nose out in front of me out of embarrassment! Confessions in the booth are heard by the ears of priests, but in the mind by the One above! It wasn’t a confession, but I’ll pray separately and lump it in as similar! So talk to me, yeah? Not interested in wealth and fame? I may seem a bit rough around the edges, but like that insane holy relic you just saw in my back pocket, I’m pretty impressive, you know? If you just join our ‘Professor Hero Party,’ I’ll fully support you and let you taste the sweet temptations of the secular world for sure—”
“Eek! Seriously! Earlier you said we were just taking a walk and to find my wind on my own!”
Ah, that?
Let him go. Of course, let him go. That’s what I’d resolved. Don’t turn a bright young boy like him into a revenge-obsessed wreck.
‘But if I let him go and he dives headfirst into the secular world on his own? Can’t stop that, right? Free will, free will. The most important thing for growing into someone with a steadfast, upright will. Blocking that would be wrong. I’m just gently guiding the budding boy’s ‘free’ will in a small direction.’
Pat pat pat!
That was why, the moment the memorial rite ended, I was chasing after the kid. Let him go? That meant releasing him as a berserker driven mad by bloodlust rather than letting him rot. Persuading him away from revenge was tough, but I hadn’t given up on slotting a normal Astrad into our party. No reason to.
“Stop, you rascal! Actually, the saint’s prayer service is incredibly expensive! Fork over 10 million siling for the rite fee!”
“Don’t lie, you fake saint! Where would I get that kind of money!”
“Then pay with your body! Join the ‘Professor Hero Party’ as a mercenary now, and I’ll specially give you 160,000 siling per day for a 60-day contract! Lodging and meals included! Mostly camping, though!”
“Uwaaak! [Wind Walk!]”
Look at that. See that? Wind Walk is a representative 4th-circle wind spell. Slower than general flight magic, but it allows precise movements like truly walking on air, with quick direction changes—perfect for combat mobility. And the guy who’d just hit 4th circle 10 minutes ago was casting it purely through incantation, no prep time.
The source of that absurd spellcasting prowess... probably the 8 years of unpaid, 0% work-life balance, high-intensity magic labor in Felix Home’s attic. Some kind of spatial expansion shelf? Even if it was magic imbued in the home, the kid handled it alongside several other spells as naturally as breathing, so the calculations and manifestations of magic were long since mastered.
A mage who’d perfected the grind and repetition ingrained in his body but stagnated at 3rd circle due to lack of enlightenment. Then he got this serendipity of handling wind four tiers above his level? Enlightenment is about understanding, but Astrad had straight-up seen the answer key, so his comprehension of wind shot up vertically. Of course.
‘Maybe 4th circle isn’t the end. Potential alone makes him a hero unit for sure. And he hit it at just 16. If the next world jumps like from World 2 to 3, around 70 years later... If I drag him around and raise him right...’
World 4. Astrad, 86 years old. 7th circle confirmed. Maybe the first 8th-circle archmage of wind since Felix Drixiel. Archmage! Last Spell or not, the absurd asymmetric power to cast nation-scale permanent magic!
Barring accidents, mages live long, so this guy has a veeery high chance of appearing in the next world if left alive.
Plus, like how ranker Levit Princess dragged the heroic lineage of the ‘Princess Family’ from Tel Drat after clearing World 1, if I clear this, I can pass on the ‘Professor Family’ for a bloodline start in World 4, and then...
[Oho. So you’re the grandson of that hero Professor? I am the archmage of wind, Astrad. Indeed, you resemble him. So much... I owe him a great debt. Welcome. I’ll help as much as I can.]
Bam bam tara bam!
‘Favor from an archmage! Rose-tinted future! Easy game! Easy clear!’
4th circle is useful right now, and indebting him is like a winning lottery ticket growing with compound interest. Can’t pass this up.
As a modern man isekai’d into a medieval fantasy world, Professor resolved to instill in Astrad a massive dose of capitalism’s ‘healthy greed.’
Thud!
Professor kicked off hard with legs blackened only up to the calves and launched toward the fleeing Astrad like an anti-aircraft shell.
“Hahaha! You rascal! So slow!!!”
“Uwaak! What saint jumps all the way here! You monster!”
“In the Church of Light, we all do! Light must traverse the whole world, so our legs are sturdy!”
Grab!
“Heh heh heh heh, gotcha! Astrad! Sorry, but nothing can save you now! Quietly learn about the base greed brought by wealth and fame!”
“Uwaaaaa—”
****
Professor was confident. He’d sweet-talked that crafty archbishop and all sorts of shady, terrifying foes with his three-inch tongue. Stirring a teen boy’s ambitions? Child’s play.
He had the saintly authority to bulldoze through force with force, power with power.
Nothing seemed able to stop Astrad’s capitalist corruption.
It seemed that way...
Slurp—
“...Good you’re awake... I had something... to discuss with you...”
“Uh, what about...”
Before the shot-down Astrad could crash, he was blocked.
I was ready to push through force with force, power with power, right?
“Oooom... This tea... is quite nice... Perfect weather... to savor the aroma... a gentle breeze...”
“...”
“Is my hospitality... uncomfortable...? Not even a sip... How rude...”
“!”
Slurp!
Cough, gulp!
“Gah, hot... N-no! It’s great! Yes! Perfect for a chilly day to warm the insides! Ugh, cough!”
“Indeed...? On winter... mornings... pepper tea... hits the spot...”
But I forgot you can’t block a madman.
Stooped back. Sloth-like dragging speech. Long white beard...
Staff with six holes.
‘Damn Murphy’s Law! Damn cliché! Astrad, you little shit!’
As the massive Professor latched on, Astrad sank like a downed fighter jet, and just as Professor grinned to lecture the captured prodigy on ‘Maslow’s Hierarchy Stage 4 and self-actualization: why you need to go chase money like a dog in the secular world’—
Whoooosh!
Fwoooosh!
Fierce winds blew, and a group of mages descended from the clouds like immortals.
‘Oh my god!’
For someone with skeletons in the closet like me, they were opponents to avoid at all costs.
I scanned for escape routes on sight, but having jumped high to grab Astrad, there was nowhere to hide.
Caught in the wind they brought, and at their ‘polite’ request to accompany them briefly, we ended up back at that valley with the campfire.
“Your name is Professor... Professor, was it...”
“As I mentioned before...”
“Yes. A guest.”
“Uh... yes.”
The stage for a serious talk with the wind mages I’d longed for had opened. Except sitting across from me wasn’t our prodigy Astrad, but the long-bearded mad super-science mage leading the old mages who’d joined the ‘Red Mute’ raid.
“You look healthy... Very good...”
“Th-thank—”
“Aaaabsolutely... full of vim and vigor... When I cleared those rocks off you... it was a sight... I couldn’t bear to watch... So healthy... Too healthy...”
“Ch-Church! I’m with the Church... so my healing is pretty impressive!”
“Hoh hoh hoh hoh... Impressive... it must be... Limbs severed... body crushed under rocks... unconscious... and bouncing around like a flea hours later. Self-healing while unconscious... I worked with the Saint of Abundance in my youth... but even she wasn’t this much...”
“Eek—! Th-that’s...!”
We’re fucked.
Fucked, fucked, fucked! Totally screwed!
‘What do I do? What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!’
Don’t be fooled by the slow speech, the drooping figure-eight eyes, the frail look. That’s a monster. The moment that hunched back straightens—whap!—and fury fills that chuckling old face! A thunder god descends, hidden till then behind the weak exterior!
Professor vividly recalled the old man he’d faced on Felix Home’s rooftop. Frenziedly clawing his own head like a madman as a pillar snapped and fell, then suddenly freezing like a puppet with cut strings! Eyes brimming with eerie light slowly turned toward him, raising a staff buzzing like a chainsaw...
‘Ugh! Just thinking about it is horrifying. I nearly pissed myself seeing all the ambient mana in the sky get sucked in.’
If he didn’t come up with a solid excuse now, he might not just piss himself—he could spend life pissing into a bag.
...Gulp.
‘Calm down, calm, calm! Whoosh—ha! Whoosh—ha! Just an old man. Just a suspicious, crazy old man who’s witnessed several scenes I wish he hadn’t! Focus, focus!’
Professor gripped his trembling leg with his right hand, steeling himself inwardly.
First, play dumb.
“H-ha ha ha ha! Such praise leaves me at a loss... But each church has its specialties, so perhaps refrain from such comparisons... It’s minor, but could spark inter-church discord...”
‘I’m a politician. I’m a politician, a corrupt one at a hearing! I know nothing. I don’t know what these geezers want or what they know!’
They probably saw. Right before Vazyur’s wide-area spell, but I’d popped out from behind the rock, fully exposed for 2-3 seconds before transforming. Especially after the ‘Red Mute’ left such a huge impression, no way they missed it.
But stonewalling blindly helps more than you’d think. Them questioning face-to-face means they have a sliver of doubt: ‘Was it really?’ Strong suspicion, no hard evidence. They made this meeting to confirm...
“Inter-church discord... Secular matters aren’t my concern. Then, the healing after you lost consciousness?”
“Hahaha. The world doesn’t lose its light when I sleep.”
“Why were you buried in this battlefield, the fiercest spot no less?”
“Hahaha. Mutation Blood are minions of the evil god, no? A Church hero charging where the evil god’s minions are is natural. I got caught due to lack of skill.”
“So all this is coincidence? All of it? You arrive, Red Mute appears, and you’re where the Red Mute was?”
“Hahaha. Coincidences don’t exist in this world. All ordained by Lo-Haram. Perhaps hunting it is my mission. Hm, blessings of the morning sun that illuminates the world. Latura, Lo-Haram.”
Dodging every question with half laughs, half nonsense leaves nothing clarified.
You need two hands to clap. Ask ‘Did you do this wrong!’ and get ‘Hahaha, wrongdoers must be punished’ over and over—conversation circles and fizzles.
‘High officials with tons of dirt don’t spout weird quotes for nothing. Not dumb; they’re so exposed that they choose to play idiot and pass. All~ calculated moves.’
“...Let me see...”
Boom!
Crack!
“Treating us like senile fools in the back room, eh...? Know that if you keep this up, your remaining chances won’t be many?”
Of course, unlike outside, this wasn’t a rule-of-law state—no hearing timer. Piss them off, and the super-science grandpa might go ‘beat then dissect first.’
“...Sigh. You’re really putting me in a tough spot.”
Luckily, I drew a monstrous card too.
Click.
Professor reluctantly pulled a holy relic from his bosom amid the angry mage’s pressure and placed it on the table. Nelfia’s Eye, enchanted with an insane saint’s soul—brimming with divine power anyone could sense, especially wind mages sensitive to air and aura changes.
“Since you’re so forceful, I have no choice but to reveal it... Showing an outsider a Church top-secret? Heartbreaking.”
“Uh, oooom...”
“As I’ve disclosed it, note that it could lead to a holy war depending. A mage like you can probably sense the power within this relic.”
“Oh hooom... Seems... important...”
Ooooh. He’s deflating. Sinking him! That back stretched like Gaonas now hunches again—great for gauging reactions.
Can’t deny it, right? No way. Even a mad wind freak can’t see a freak relic unprecedented in GG missionary history—a saint’s soul in a normal holy item—and go ‘You, Red Mute worshipper of the evil god!’
First inflate suspicions wildly, then when they step out of reason into ‘Suspicious bastard! Beat him!!’, counter with undeniable fact. Like conversational backfire. Nothing counters ‘evil queen’s spawn’ suspicion like ‘rescued the saint, though?’
This crumbles snowballing hypotheses from evasion, shaking initial certainties too. From ‘Definitely him!’ to ‘Huh? Then what was...? Even if not resolved, enough to escape for now.
“Ooom...”
Sip.
“Hahaha. I understand fully. Chaotic battlefield, and mages of your age might mistake. Or that filthy evil god minion used weird sorcery.”
“My head... is dizzying... I hate complicated thoughts... Let’s skip this... I have something to say...”
Yes!
I’d drilled the party on denying Red Mute knowledge in case of lightning-strike exposure. Set a rendezvous upstream at the nearest river to flee to.
Luckily, being old, they tired of the complexity.
“If it’s something you want to say...”
“Different topic. You’ve been following Astrad...”
“...Pardon?”
“That child... is a bit troubling...”
The old mage openly saying ‘he’s no good’ forced a scowl.
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