Chapter 3
Chapter 3
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Birthday Wish
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* * *
“I’m done.”
Dale said, feeling the ring of mana firmly fixed around his heart.
“…What did you just say?”
“I can feel the shape of the mana ring engraved around my heart.”
For a moment, Sephia blinked, doubting her own ears. But Dale continued as if it were nothing, feigning ignorance as though it were someone else's affair.
“Could this be the completed form of a ‘circle’?”
“Can you try releasing your magical power along that circle?”
“Yes, teacher.”
At Sephia’s words, Dale nodded.
The mana, having already circulated through Dale's circle, converted into a distinct form of magical power and surged through his veins.
An intangible energy, glowing with a soft blue light.
And then—
“...!”
*Crack!*
It didn't stop at a condensed mass of magical power; it began to take the form of an ice crystal, tinged with a pale, sharp edge.
The magical power released from Dale's fingertips crystallized, cutting through the air with a bone-chilling cold.
Ice Bolt, a water-attribute magic that could be called the most basic of basics.
Seeing this, Sephia's ears perked up in surprise.
Dale, too, couldn't hide his bewilderment at the magic that had just unfolded from his hand.
Dale's original intention had been to simply release his magical power as a test, adding just a hint of the frost element. However, the power released from his fingertips escaped his control, absorbing the surrounding chill and perfectly casting ‘Ice Bolt’.
‘What in the world…!’
Of course, Sephia was an elf. As a race beloved by mana, it was hardly the first time in her long life that she had witnessed someone with talent that defied common sense.
She could understand a young mage, unable to fully control their abilities, unconsciously being influenced by their surroundings to cast a spell.
This would be even more true for someone with overflowing talent, like the son of Lord Black.
Nevertheless, what truly astonished Sephia was something else: the ‘form of precision’ Dale's Ice Bolt displayed.
‘...Additional formulas to maximize killing power have been projected onto it.’
The three formulas: rotation, acceleration, and concentration.
It wasn't surprising for a mage to unconsciously project their ‘personality’ onto their spells.
Nor was it rare to intentionally add formulas to modify a spell's properties according to one's purpose.
The problem was that the personality an eight-year-old boy projected onto his magic perfectly embodied the golden ratio of ‘military magic,’ which prioritized killing power. And it was at a level of precision and completeness that would be perfectly at home on a battlefield… no, it was even greater than that.
Perfect killing magic.
A chill ran down her spine.
“Teacher?”
Dale spoke cautiously to the bewildered Sephia, watching her expression like a frightened child.
“…No, it’s nothing.”
But Sephia soon shook her head and smiled.
“Now I finally understand why Lord Black expressed such regret.”
Sephia said with a wry smile.
“What mage wouldn't covet such a brilliantly shining gem as a disciple?”
“Teacher…”
Just as Dale hesitated, about to speak again.
“So this is where you all were.”
A familiar voice echoed from behind them.
“Dale, are you learning well from your teacher?”
“Mother!”
It was his mother, Elena, watching Dale with a pleased expression.
“Sephia, Elder of the Blue Magic Tower, humbly greets Your Grace, Lord Black.”
And there stood Dale's father, Duke Sachsen.
* * *
Immediately after the Duke and Duchess returned, however, Lord Black did not go straight back to the ducal castle's hall. This was because Sephia had urgently requested a private audience with him.
“Your Grace, may I have a moment of your time?”
Duke Sachsen's office on the top floor of the ducal castle.
“Wise Elf Sephia.”
“I am greatly indebted to you, Your Grace.”
Sephia gave a customary bow before speaking immediately.
“It's about Lord Dale.”
“What do you mean?”
Lord Black narrowed his eyes.
“…Mere minutes after I taught him how to handle mana, he succeeded in engraving his first circle.”
A faint flicker of agitation crossed Lord Black's expression.
He reigned at the pinnacle of the Black Magic Tower and was one of the five greatest mages on the continent. Thus, there was no way he wouldn't understand the meaning of Sephia's words.
“And right then and there, he succeeded in casting Ice Bolt.”
Sephia continued.
“An Ice Bolt projected with ‘military formulas’ that wouldn't be out of place on a battlefield.”
Rotation, acceleration, concentration.
The additional formulas said to be the most efficient for enhancing the killing power of projectile magic.
“And it was a perfect golden ratio, precisely matching the Empire's military combat magic doctrine.”
The moment he heard that, the father's agitation once again flickered across Lord Black's face.
“You mean to say…”
“I cannot teach Lord Dale any further.”
Sephia said after a moment of silence. Not killing was the most important doctrine pursued by the Blue Magic Tower. That must be why she was reluctant to teach a child with a ‘talent for slaughter’.
Guessing as much, Lord Black spoke.
“Do you mean you cannot teach a talent that goes against the Blue Tower's doctrine?”
“It is true that while I fear Lord Dale's talent, I also covet it as a mage.”
Sephia shook her head at Lord Black's words.
“Therefore, I also feel the desire to guide Lord Dale correctly with my own hands.”
“Then isn't that all the more reason not to refuse teaching Dale?”
“My desire is so. However.”
At Lord Black's question, Sephia shook her head.
She recalled the conversation she had with her disciple for the first time that morning.
—*But the magic I wish to learn is something else…*
“It is unacceptable for a mage's path in magic to be decided by the pressure of others.”
He cannot be made to learn magic he does not want just to follow his parents' wishes. That would be the same as forcing him to inherit a spirit he does not desire.
“I trust that you, Lord Black, know better than anyone what a terrible end such an act can bring.”
Sephia understood the weight of the words she was uttering.
“I respect your promise to Lady Elena, Your Grace.”
Duke Sachsen remained silent.
“However, a parent's promise does not give them the right to decide their child's future.”
An ideology instilled by another's will. Sephia did not take the danger of such an act lightly. Even if it was a path paved with good intentions, it was no exception.
“This is especially true for someone with such immense talent as Lord Dale.”
A talent that defies common sense.
Genius and monster are separated by a paper-thin margin. And Sephia had seen such a ‘monster’ before.
A monster of slaughter.
For a fleeting moment, she'd even had the illusion of seeing that monster's shadow overlapping with Dale's image.
“…”
Lord Black remained silent, his expression heavy. He, more than anyone, knew what the wise elf's words meant.
* * *
While Sephia was speaking privately with Lord Black.
Dale was in the ducal castle's great hall with his mother, Elena, celebrating his eighth birthday. But even in this joyous occasion, surrounded by congratulations, Dale's heart was not at ease.
‘I was careless.’
Instead, Dale could only swallow his regret, blaming his own carelessness.
The Ice Bolt he had cast in front of Sephia had far exceeded the power he'd intended. The spell he'd tried to cast with reduced power had escaped his control.
On top of that, his instincts, honed from a lifetime as the Empire's hound, had unconsciously projected the modified formulas for combat.
‘To think that the first spell I cast after engraving my circle would be this powerful.’
He had severely underestimated his own ‘vessel’—the fact that he was the blood heir to the Master of the Black Magic Tower.
‘The talent dwelling in this body far exceeds my imagination.’
Moreover, Sephia was an elder of a magic tower. It would be child's play for her to see through his unrestrained magic. Dale could vividly recall Sephia's unconcealed astonishment upon seeing his spell.
It was then.
“Happy birthday, Lord Dale!”
A hearty laugh rang out. It came from a man over two meters tall with the build of a bear.
A knight, clad head to toe in impenetrable black armor, despite it being the middle of a birthday celebration.
“Uncle Helmut!”
Only then did an expression befitting an eight-year-old appear on Dale's face.
Lord Helmut Blackbear. The commander of the Night Raven Knights, under the direct command of the Duke Sachsen family.
Lord Helmut was a swordsman said to have no equal throughout the northern territories of the Empire, including the Sachsen domain.
The strongest knight of the North and one of the Seven Swords of the Continent. He was also a vassal knight renowned for his loyalty to House Sachsen.
Lord Helmut and the knights under his command were already in full battle gear, ready for a campaign.
“Are you going to conquer the dungeon that formed in the Demon King's territory?”
As expected, Elena, who was beside Dale, lowered her voice and asked.
In this world, monster outbreaks and dungeon appearances were always major events for a domain. For the Sachsen domain, the situation was twice as severe.
To make matters worse, after the Hero defeated the Demon King, an imperial decree had been issued, granting the entire Demon King's territory as a fief and ordering it to be reclaimed as imperial land.
It was called a fief grant, but in reality, it was just dumping the problem on them.
Just because the Demon King was dead didn't mean his entire territory had fallen into human hands. The Demon King's territory was still teeming with unconquered dungeons, and various monsters and high-ranking demons swarmed the land. Not to mention, even without going to the Demon King's territory, the monsters overflowing within their own domain were a long-standing headache for the duchy.
“Please forgive my disloyalty for not being able to stay for your birthday, my lord!”
“Be careful, Uncle Helmut!”
“Haha, my lord! Surely you're not worried about this Helmut!”
Lord Helmut laughed heartily at Dale's concern.
Just then.
“His Grace, the Duke, arrives!”
No sooner had their conversation ended than an attendant raised his voice. The commotion that had filled the great hall instantly ceased.
Silence fell, and from beyond the blood-red carpeted corridor, Lord Black appeared.
He was accompanied by Elder Sephia of the Blue Tower, the butler and servants of House Sachsen, and a few elders from the Black Magic Tower who advised Lord Black.
“We humbly greet His Grace, the Duke!”
Lord Helmut and his knights knelt in unison. *Clang!* The steel plates of their riveted armor clashed with a metallic ring.
Duke Sachsen strode directly across the great hall toward Dale and Elena.
Toward the duke's throne, which stood tall at the end of the hall.
“Dale. Congratulations on turning eight.”
“Yes, Father.”
After the brief formality, the musicians' songs once again filled the hall. Elena smiled contentedly as she watched the father and son.
“And Elena, thank you, as always, for everything.”
“Dale, go on and tell your father what you want.”
Elena quickly changed the subject to Dale, as if to hide her embarrassment.
‘Something I want.’
There were many things. The heads of those who had driven him to this state. The Emperor's neck. But Dale wasn't in a hurry for any of them.
So Dale simply said what he genuinely wanted right now.
“I want a little sister.”