Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Rest? (1)
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[My name is Rossbern. I write this diary to reflect on my life. I was born in the slums of District V in Randa. Though I escaped that life, I still remember that hellish place...]
Flip.
[...That was how I was taken in by a mage and able to leave the wretched slums behind. It was probably the happiest moment of my life...]
Flip.
[...Because of such discrimination, life in the magic tower was unbearable. Even so, I resolved to endure it. Because I had talent. Because I had a family that believed in me...]
Flip.
[...And so, I was discarded. They might phrase it differently, but in the end, that's what happened. After leaving my home—no, my former home—I thought about it dozens of times, but the conclusion was always the same. I had been abandoned.]
Flip.
[...I swear this. No matter the means, I will succeed and get revenge on those who looked down on me and laughed at me...]
Flip.
[...Finally, I heard some good news. It's about a city called Wineham, next to Randa. This common city swallowed up by Randa is actually a den of black mages, and they produce massive quantities of magical narcotics to supply Randa. I will use this place as my first stepping stone.]
Flip.
Flip.
Flip.
Flip.
"...What are you reading?"
Marie had approached without a sound. She held her hands politely clasped together.
"A diary."
"A diary?"
"Yes... I got it from the mage."
"Ah..."
Marie fell silent for a moment, as if unsure what to say, then asked again.
"Is it... interesting?"
"Well... not really."
"Then why are you reading it?"
Oliver turned his head slightly to look up at her.
"I was curious."
"Pardon?"
"The mage who owned this diary... right before he died, he emitted a beautiful light. One I'd never seen before... So I thought maybe this diary would tell me why."
"Ah... I see. Did you find the reason?"
"No, I didn't. There's nothing particularly special... Anyway, what brings you here?"
At Oliver's question, Marie smiled faintly.
"I have some news I'd like to share with you."
"?"
"I've finally been promoted to Low-grade Disciple."
Oliver showed no particular reaction. Marie looked a bit hurt, her expression souring.
"So many Mid-grade Disciples died in the last battle that the Low-grade Disciples were promoted en masse, and I got to fill one of those spots because of it."
"Uh... congratulations?"
"No... I just came to thank you, Oliver."
"Me?"
"Yes! Thanks to you, I definitely built up my skills as a Low-grade Disciple. The Master was impressed."
"The Master was?"
"Yes. Earlier, while checking the temporary disciples' skills, he noticed mine had improved a lot and asked what happened. I told him you helped me. He was really impressed."
Joseph knows... On the surface, it didn't sound like a big deal, but Oliver had a bad feeling about it.
He couldn't put it into words exactly, but it felt deeply unsettling.
It connected to the contradiction of claiming to raise powerful black mages while not providing proper training, and encouraging disciples to fight and undermine each other. Unfortunately, he couldn't articulate it specifically.
As he pondered this, Marie added,
"And there's even better news. It's not official yet, but I'm pretty sure of it."
"What is it?"
"Soon, you'll be made a Direct Disciple."
It was sudden news. Oliver, a Low-grade Disciple, becoming the Family's number two.
But considering the circumstances, it wasn't all that strange.
The battle with the mage a few days ago had been far fiercer than anyone expected, and the Pharmacist, Joseph, Anthony, and Dominic Families who participated had all suffered significant losses.
It was a stark reminder of how threatening mages could be—especially the one who used lightning magic, darting back and forth and inflicting heavy damage on everyone.
Joseph's Family alone had lost their number two, Andrew, as well as many carefully nurtured High-grade and Mid-grade Disciples.
By the survivors' accounts, total annihilation wouldn't have been surprising.
Yet, thanks to one person—Oliver—they had miraculously won, making his presence known not just in the Family, but to everyone.
For such an Oliver to replace the injured Andrew? It wasn't a huge stretch.
Marie asked, looking puzzled.
"Aren't you happy? As a Direct Disciple, you can receive training from the Master anytime and use the library."
"...No, I am happy. It's just... I think the other Mid-grade and High-grade Disciples might not like it."
"Haha, is that all... Of course, they'd hate someone suddenly jumping ahead, but you're the exception, Oliver. Your skills are overwhelmingly superior, and Andrew's faction is basically wiped out anyway."
That was true. Most of the black mages who died fighting the mage were Andrew's supporters.
He'd brought nearly all his followers to take Oliver out, but hilariously, it backfired, and he lost everything in an instant.
Even if some supporters remained, would it matter?
Andrew, the core of the faction, had lost one arm and was covered in severe burns.
Remembering that, Marie said,
"Practically speaking, no one in the Family is left to check you now. Whether by skill or merit, the empty Direct Disciple spot is yours. Congratulations from the bottom of my heart."
Marie seemed as happy as if it were her own achievement. Oliver found it odd, but didn't pry.
He wasn't particularly curious, and there were no schemes or plots in her emotions.
So Oliver asked something else.
"Marie, can I ask you something?"
"Yes...? Oh, yes! Ask away. Anything I can answer."
"You said you came here six years ago, right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Who was the Direct Disciple back then?"
"Andrew. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious. Was Andrew the Direct Disciple from the start?"
"I'm not sure... I've never really wondered."
"Were there any other disciples who suddenly disappeared?"
"Uh... Probably a few if you look. Sometimes people take what knowledge they need or steal money and run."
"Did you see it yourself?"
"See what?"
"Them running away."
"No, it's not like you'd see someone in the act of fleeing, right?"
"Yeah, I suppose."
Marie gave an awkward smile, looking confused.
"Why are you asking about that?"
"Just... curious."
A little time passed after that.
As Marie had said, the vacancies from the mage battle were quickly filled.
Marie leisurely became a Low-grade Disciple, and Peter escaped the dorm leader role to become a Mid-grade Disciple. Everyone was pleased.
However, Oliver wasn't made Direct Disciple as Marie predicted. Instead, he skipped straight to High-grade Disciple.
This was also unprecedented treatment, but no one opposed or complained.
Given the talent he'd shown and the merits he'd earned, making him Direct Disciple wouldn't have been strange.
His enemies and jealous rivals had vanished, replaced by those trying to curry favor.
It wasn't all that odd. Andrew was still alive, but with one arm gone and severe burns over his body...
Even illegal healers said they'd only saved his life, leaving him to suffer in pain for the rest of his days.
So despite bruised pride, the disciples fawned over the future power holder, approaching Oliver.
"I'll handle that."
A man grinned obsequiously at Oliver.
Currently, Oliver was extracting vapors from herbs.
It was basic work—mixing herbs in precise ratios, heating water, checking temperatures—but he'd insisted on starting from the basics himself.
Even if it was Mid-grade Disciple territory, he knew learning fundamentals properly avoided future issues.
Oliver, sweating from physical labor for the first time in a while, replied,
"No, it's fine."
"Haha, still..."
"No. Really, it's okay."
Refused, the nosy man retreated with an embarrassed look, pretending to be fine but visibly sulking.
"Heh heh, if you need any help, just call me anytime."
"Yes, thank you."
Oliver responded mechanically.
With the interrupter gone, he resumed work.
After fully extracting the herbs, he placed a new potion batch on the steamer, drained water to the proper level, and added preheated water.
He checked the water temperature midway, inspecting every thirty minutes. Simple, but requiring delicacy.
"Manageable?"
Peter approached quietly.
Oliver replied while checking the herb extract concentration.
"Yes."
"......"
"...... Do you have something to say?"
"Ah, yes. The Master calls for you."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Oliver tilted his head. The Master, who'd kept him buried in work due to tight schedules from the mages, was summoning him.
But he couldn't refuse, so Oliver nodded and headed to the Master's room.
"Ah, wait."
"What is it?"
"Not the Master's room—the one where Andrew is. He's there. I'll cover for you here."
"...Okay."
Oliver replied without much thought and went to Andrew's room.
Andrew's private quarters were now essentially a sickroom. Opening the door released the musty smell of illness.
"You're here."
As Oliver entered, Joseph, tending to Andrew, spoke.
"Yes, I heard you called for me."
"Good. How's the work?"
"Yes, it's enjoyable."
He meant it. Learning the Filterette production process step by step was pure joy.
"Glad to hear it's sincere. That's the right attitude. But unlike you, some kids look scared. Makes sense after seeing a mage up close."
"...May I ask a question?"
"Go ahead."
"You once said black magic is stronger than regular magic... So isn't there nothing to fear?"
Joseph smirked on one side.
"You look dim but catch the odd sharp points. Yeah, I said that when I first brought you here. And such black mages do exist—like the Pied Piper or the Cook... But not always. Know why?"
"No."
"Mages train systematically in the light with vast resources, while black mages grow in the shadows on their own. So on average, we're lower."
"Yes, I remember. That's why you took us in."
"Good memory. Specifically, talented ones like you. I heard from the others—you took down a mage alone?"
"Yes... I got lucky."
"If you beat the mage who did this to Andrew with luck, then that's skill."
He glanced at Andrew, groaning from burns.
"...Can't he be healed?"
"Hm?"
"Could Life Force heal Andrew?"
"Normally, yes. But only for recovering energy or minor wounds. Not severe injuries like this—you'd need a specialist. That's why I called you."
"Pardon?"
"I'm taking Andrew to Randa. There are black mages specializing in healing, and I know one who can fully cure him."
"Ah..."
Andrew let out a sound. Healing specialist black mage. He filed that away.
"While I'm gone with Andrew, manage the Family in my place."
"Pardon?"
Caught off guard, Oliver asked again.
"Why the surprise? It's one of a Direct Disciple's roles—managing the Family in the Master's absence."
"But the Direct Disciple—"
"—I value Andrew, but with you here, he's no longer it. In skill and feats, you're the Direct Disciple now. I haven't announced it officially because things are still chaotic."
He had many questions, but instinct said not to ask. It felt safer.
"I heard you taught Marie too. You can handle the kids. Want to manage the Family while I'm away?"
Oliver replied,
"Well, if it's an order."