Chapter 183
Chapter 183
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 183
Chapter Title: Changes (2)
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"What brings you here?"
Oliver asked as he tidied up the basement lab in his lodging, which doubled as his workshop.
Normally, he would have cleaned it himself, but Merlin had shown up out of the blue, so Oliver handed the task off to the zombie puppet—Helper 1—along with Duncan, the sniper, and the black magician, then turned to entertain his guest.
"Is this a place I shouldn't visit? I'm your temporary master, aren't I? Masters have the right to drop in on their disciples anytime and be a nuisance. But what's that?"
"It's coffee. With alcohol added... I brought it to offer you. Would you like some?"
"You know how to treat a guest... What is this? Why does it taste so good?"
"I'm glad. I made it just as I was taught, and it suits your taste."
"You learned how to make coffee? From where?"
"The Angel's House."
Back when Oliver had learned makeup techniques from Coco, he'd picked up a few other things from the staff along the way—like how to brew coffee, distinguish luxury goods, or gauge a guest's background.
It wasn't a field that particularly interested him, but it had its small amusements.
"That's an odd name. Sounds just like a brothel."
"What's a brothel?"
"...You don't know what a brothel is?"
"Yes. I've heard the word a few times, but I don't know the details."
"You're joking, right?"
"No, I really don't know. Could you explain it?"
"A brothel is... Wait, are you personally controlling those zombie puppets right now, one by one?"
Merlin suddenly pointed at the zombie puppets cleaning the lab.
"Pardon? Ah... no. I'm not controlling them. To be precise, Child is."
"Child?"
"Yes. Hold on a moment... First, could you help out for a bit?"
At Oliver's call, Helper 1—who had been tidying with its six arms—approached.
Perhaps because it was made from three fused corpses, its heavy footsteps echoed with each step.
Helper 1 came right up to Merlin and Oliver. Moments later, a small lump of flesh shrouded in black smoke emerged from the middle head.
"This is Child."
"Hooh..."
Merlin watched with keen interest.
Child eyed him warily, but calmed down once Oliver reassured it.
"Black magic. Creation type."
"You know about black magic?"
"More than your average mage. In scholarship, breadth matters as much as depth. In that sense, you're impressive."
"Me?"
"Yes. Creation types are notoriously hard to learn, regardless of power."
Oh... Merlin was right.
Among the black magic books Oliver had read in Joseph's study was one evaluating the basics and entry difficulties of each school.
Like most black magic texts, it was more a personal treatise than verified fact, so its accuracy was questionable.
Still, according to that book, creation magic was the hardest black magic to master.
"It varies by individual, but it demands emotions, life force, mana, and other materials, plus vague things like the caster's creativity and imagination. Plus, as the youngest black magic school, much remains undiscovered. All in all, it's tricky."
"Yes, exactly. That's how it was described in the book I read. How does a mage like you know so much about black magic?"
"I told you. Scholars need breadth too. It's not hard to learn. As a field mage, I'd smash black magicians and loot their research or books. Illegal, sure."
"Ah..."
"Anyway, clever idea. A creature controlling zombie puppets. Saves effort on the puppets themselves. Assuming the creature doesn't turn on you."
Oliver perked up with interest.
"Do creatures attack their masters?"
"Of course. You didn't know—"
"Kyahahahaha! Shut up! Baldy!"
"Yeah! Shut it! Old human!"
"Baldy! Baldy! Baldy! Baldy! Baldy!"
The Children, who had been quietly cleaning, suddenly went berserk and screamed at Merlin.
Instead of anger, Merlin looked shocked.
"They can talk?"
"Yes, but limited to basic words."
Oliver calmed Child down as he answered. It obeyed him immediately.
"Oh, impressive. Calling me baldy was deeply offensive, but intriguing. Could they talk from the start?"
"Hold on. First. Back into the zombie puppet."
First returned to the zombie puppet—Helper 1—as Oliver instructed.
"Kyah... We. Won't betray. Kahahaha..."
"Of course. Keep cleaning, please. I'll make sure you get plenty to eat later for your hard work today."
"Kyahahaha..."
Child, now back inside Helper 1, thudded off to resume cleaning.
"...No, they couldn't talk at first. But as I kept feeding them emotions, life force, mana, and such, their size and intelligence grew."
"Fascinating. A creature that speaks like a human..."
Merlin was surrounded by a vast mana barrier, so Oliver couldn't read his thoughts, but he seemed genuinely interested.
"So, may I ask what brings you here? It doesn't seem like you came just to see Child."
"Ah! Right. My mind wandered. Thanks for reminding me. I came to play the master role, temporarily though it is."
"Pardon?"
"Master role."
***
Whiiiiiing!
In front of Merlin's grand mansion, Oliver trudged into the wind laced with snowflakes.
"Stop now."
Merlin, walking behind him, said.
Oliver halted as instructed and turned around.
"Do you like cold places, sir?"
"Not at all. I hate them. I just enjoy watching others shiver... So, take off your outer coat."
Oliver removed his outer coat as told.
Once even that was gone, the cold intensified, turning from chill to outright pain.
A sensation he hadn't felt since his mine days.
The blade of cold pierced his skin, stabbing into the muscles, organs, and bones beneath.
"Here, catch."
Merlin tossed a mana-filled test tube at Oliver.
Oliver snatched it neatly from the air.
As previously explained, he extracted the mana from the tube and wrapped it around his body.
He had no idea what the intent was, but he was freezing, and it was his master's order, so he followed along.
Shuuuuh.
He drew out the mana in one go, then mimicked Merlin by inscribing a spell into it, wrapping his body in a warming magic to block the cold.
First, he formed inner and outer mana layers around himself, then heated the space between with mana.
The cold gradually faded, leaving him feeling as cozy as if wrapped in warm clothes.
"Done?"
"Uh... yes."
Oliver checked himself over before answering.
"How'd you do it?"
"Pardon?"
"How? Answer without repeating. Focus."
Merlin spoke seriously, without his usual playfulness. His posture was straight too, giving off a totally different vibe.
Oliver apologized and answered.
"Sorry, sir... I mimicked your magic."
"Mimicked?"
"Yes. I saw the mana around your body and copied it exactly. Double layer to block the cold, heating the space in between to maintain body heat."
"How does it feel?"
"Convenient and good. If mana allows, I could stay here in light clothes."
"But it's not as easy as it sounds. Even minimizing mana use, it drains a lot over time, and maintaining it taxes concentration, wearing you out fast. Most mages can't control mana this finely anyway. They'd just bundle up."
"Really?"
Oliver asked, surprised. It was a bit unexpected.
"Factory education's downside, huh? Common among modern mages. They focus on efficient training, so finer points get neglected. Systemic issue, not just the students' fault, but still a problem. They're chasing scores over true purpose. Mages multiply, abilities standardize like assembly-line products, but they're sloppy outside specialties. Lacking flexibility too."
"That's a shame."
Oliver meant it. Better to learn everything thoroughly—more fun that way.
He didn't quite get it. Was there context he was missing?
"So kids with connections or backing become direct disciples of master-level faction heads for extra training. Gets them the finer details."
"Oh, do you have such disciples, sir?"
"A few, not many. Back to the point: how long can you maintain that body magic?"
"Hmm... until my mana runs out."
Oliver said flatly. Not bravado or arrogance—just accurate self-assessment. But far from easy.
Magic wasn't just about mana; it required the caster's focus, stamina, will, and more.
Like lifting a 10kg dumbbell briefly versus holding it for an hour.
"You mimicked my magic on the spot. How?"
"I saw the flow of mana around you and followed it exactly."
"Do you know how spells work?"
"No, I haven't learned the theory. I just copy what I see. If a better way comes to mind, I adjust."
Oliver said it casually. But any mage worth their salt wouldn't dismiss it lightly.
Merlin spoke up.
"Magic gathers apt mana internally, inscribes a spell, and manifests a mental image into reality. More details exist, but no need now. Later."
His teaching was concise yet masterful, hitting key points. Oliver nodded silently, absorbing every word.
Gather mana, inscribe spell, manifest image—that was magic.
Not much different from black magic, he thought. But Merlin drew a firm line.
"No, it is different."
"It is?"
"Yes. If anything, magic is like math. Fixed rules for spells to wield desired power. Skilled mages tweak forms for comfort, but basics stay consistent. Never strays from laws. Even I follow them."
"Not black magic?"
"Black magic's more like drawing. Shorter history, less systematic research—skilled black magicians craft unique spells. Often breaking rules."
Oliver thought of the puppets, the auction raiders, Marie.
Their black magic was black magic, but on another level entirely.
"Hmm... Maybe demons?"
"Could be... But few black magicians—like you, extracting mana—properly use magic. Proof their mechanisms differ. Proper training might change that."
"Then why me? Seems I can manage fine. Am I missing something?"
"No, you're what they call a genius."
"Genius?"
"Yes. Someone who sees mana flow, intuitively grasps principles, and applies them instantly. That's a genius... But you don't look thrilled."
Merlin was right. The word "genius" didn't spark joy in Oliver. Just indifference.
"Strange. Not easy to earn 'genius' from me, yet your reaction's so tepid."
"Ah, sorry. Just... doesn't stir much."
Oliver answered honestly. He enjoyed gaining knowledge or discoveries, but his own talents? Meh.
Useful for goals, sure, but a tool was a tool.
Merlin nodded quietly at the response.
"Fair enough. Could be the right attitude. Talent's a blessing—and a curse."
Cryptic words. Before Oliver could ask, Merlin moved on.
"I'll start irregular training sessions with you."
"Irregular?"
"Yes. You're a fixer too. Can't ignore that. Or need a long break?"
Ah... That wouldn't work.
A few months ago, maybe. But now? Different story.
Beyond earning research and living funds, Oliver did fixer work to learn about the world, bit by bit.
The people he met were fun too.
Honestly, fixer jobs were his study and hobby now.
"No, that'd be tough."
"Exactly. A poor old man like me can't cover your livelihood..."
Not convincing from a landowner with a mansion, but Oliver didn't argue and nodded.
It was consideration, after all.
"Thank you."
Pak—!
As Oliver replied, the mana around him depleted fully, dispelling the magic.
He'd maintained it flawlessly until mana ran dry, as claimed.
The fierce cold rushed back in.
"Could I get more mana?"
"No, time to head in."
As Merlin suggested, they entered the mansion.
Wooden puppets—golems—and zombie puppets stood waiting.
Each offered towels to their masters.
The wooden puppets silently.
The zombie puppets with "kyahaha" laughs.
Merlin, shielded by magic from the snow, refused his towel and continued.
"...I'll give you a way to contact me. Let me know your free times. I'll adjust to match."
"Thank you again for your consideration. May I ask what kind of training you'll provide?"
"Mostly basic theory, rest practical. Ratio like 8:2 or 9:1."
"Understood."
Oliver replied, satisfied. He didn't hate practicals, but theory-starved as he was, he craved that more.
"Once basics are done, I'll get you into the Magic Tower."
"Magic Tower?"
"Ah, not as a student. More like staff."
Magic Tower.
One institution discriminating against Randa and other cities.
Mages flocked to low-regulation Randa, forming a cross-faction mage org for research and exchange.
Despite existing in Randa, people spoke of it like another world—distant. So Oliver could hardly believe Merlin.
Misheard? But Merlin reaffirmed it.
"If all goes well, you could read books there or attend classes. Not shirking teaching—don't misunderstand."
"No... No misunderstanding. Just surprised. But really? Me, a black magician, into the Magic Tower?"
"Hide the black magic part, obviously. I have a way in. Don't worry."
"What way?"
"Master-level professor guarantee lets outsiders work there. Official right. Bribery and lobbying happen yearly over it."
Details unclear, but huge privilege.
Using it for Oliver...
"Thank you. To go that far."
"Huh? Oh, misunderstanding. Won't use mine."
"Too valuable. So, handing you off to my disciple returning from service to the Tower."
"...Will he agree?"
"He will. My disciple, and I have dirt on him."
"...Threatening your disciple?"
"I only take disciples I can threaten. Surprised?"
Oliver pondered.
"No, my first master tried to kill me too... Seems normal. Guess I need to prepare."
"Prepare how?"
"As you said, need basics for the Tower, and handle work ahead... Can I use a communicator here?"
Oliver pulled out his direct line to Forrest and asked.