Chapter 307
Chapter 307
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 307
Chapter Title: Wrapping Up (5)
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“What did you say?”
Oliver asked again.
Not because he hadn’t heard Kevin’s words properly, but to confirm whether he had heard them right.
“That I defeated Yarelli’s father. In front of everyone in the Magic Tower. Thoroughly.”
Kevin answered once more. Sure enough, Oliver hadn’t misheard.
Kevin defeating Yarelli’s father. In front of the entire Magic Tower... He had figured there must be some backstory, but this went beyond anything he’d imagined.
“May I ask one question?”
“Go ahead.”
“Why did you fight Yarelli’s father?”
Kevin raised one eyebrow, as if he’d just heard something foolish.
“Let me turn that around. Don’t you find it strange that I’m in the Magic Tower?”
“Should I?”
“Most people would... What image comes to mind when you think of the Magic Tower?”
“Mages, the massive institution representing Landa, cutting-edge magic tech, enormous wealth, elitism... Survival of the fittest, eugenics-like ideas.”
“You’ve learned well. Let me ask again. Isn’t it strange that I’m here?”
“...Ah.”
Oliver’s reply came two beats late.
He finally grasped the point.
Kevin was a Red Man. From a mage’s perspective, a thoroughly inferior race.
Dim-witted, barbaric, incapable of self-improvement...
Oliver didn’t personally agree, but that aside, the Magic Tower’s current atmosphere ran along those lines.
You could tell from certain liberal arts classes and books alone.
A Red Man mage in a place like that. And not just any—he was a Master and a professor. Utterly unprecedented.
He’d noticed it upon first arriving at the Magic Tower, but Kevin’s diligence and skill had let him push it from his mind for a while.
“Now that you put it that way, it does seem a little odd... But Professor, aren’t you the Elder’s disciple?”
The Elder, of course, meaning Archive Merlin.
Oliver didn’t know the full details, but from everything he’d seen, heard, and experienced so far, the man held tremendous prestige.
“So doesn’t that make it fine?”
Snap!
Kevin snapped his fingers.
“Correct. But only half correct.”
“Half correct?”
“Yeah. It’s true my brilliant master gave me the chance to enter the Magic Tower, but earning its recognition? That’s a whole different story.”
“Is that so?”
“Do you think my master spoon-feeds everything from one to ten?”
At Kevin’s question, Oliver thought back to the Merlin he’d observed.
He’d recommend good books but charge for them, offer advice but no direct aid, demand proof of value if he ever intervened personally. His classes provided the environment and direction, but the studying was all on you.
“Hmm... No. I think he just gave me the opportunity.”
“Right... Master got me into the Magic Tower but laid out the stage for me to prove myself. The Magic Tower couldn’t refuse his demand. His words carry unique weight, and for their honor, they couldn’t risk looking scared of some Red Man.”
“So that’s when you fought Yarelli’s father?”
“Including him—the Agni minor school, Mjolnir minor school, Enlil minor school, Gaia minor school. I took on every mage from the Elemental School’s minor schools.”
“...Why the Elemental School?”
“I wanted in. It’s Master’s school, and the strongest one... Though it’s been declining a bit lately.”
“Ah...”
Oliver nodded with an audible sound.
It was a profoundly bizarre conversation.
A lone Red Man mage battling a traditional powerhouse like the Elemental School—and here he was, fixating on the oddest parts.
Even stranger: Kevin had grown so accustomed to it that he’d blended right in.
“All Master-level, or close to it... To join the Magic Tower, I fought them one by one in front of everyone and crushed them. Thoroughly.”
Thoroughly... Oliver realized it wasn’t just an empty word.
He’d sparred with Kevin once before.
The man showed no mercy in a fight.
“I crushed them so they couldn’t deny the defeat. Left scars on their bodies they could never erase. A reminder to respect me.”
“You get respect from scars?”
“Of course. Scars bring pain. Pain breeds fear. Fear commands respect... Especially for a snob from a prestigious house like Yarelli’s father. I carved the deepest respect right on his face. In the end, the Elemental School had no choice but to accept me as one of their own.”
“Hmm... What happened to the rest? The other ones you fought besides him.”
“Weeded out.”
Weeded out. A stark, precise word.
Oliver could easily picture their fates.
Worst case: death. Next worst: expulsion from the Magic Tower.
Maybe that was just how it worked... Personal prowess mattered, but so did reputation and conduct.
A tragic setup where one unlucky mishap could cost you everything. No wonder most here lived in abundance yet lacked any real ease.
“That’s what puzzled me.”
“Puzzled about what?”
“When Yarelli—that father’s daughter—showed up wanting to take my class. Daughter of a man who’d shamed his noble house; she must’ve been hounded for it... Any idea what she was thinking, coming to me?”
“No clue? I read emotions, not thoughts.”
“Shame. Figured someone like you could do thoughts too.”
“Sorry to disappoint. Still, Yarelli doesn’t view you with outright goodwill, but it’s not hostility either. She respects and acknowledges parts of you.”
Kevin paused at Oliver’s words, mulled it over, then shoved it aside. He preferred not to dwell on that sort of thing.
And so he switched topics.
“Personally, I hate sharing stories like this. So why do you think I bothered answering?”
“No idea?”
“I need a favor.”
Ah... Now it clicked why Kevin—who’d seemed reluctant—had opened up midway.
He wanted something. Not that Oliver blamed him for it.
“What is it?”
“Can you teach me black magic?”
“Black magic?”
“Yeah. I want to learn.”
Oliver was stunned. He’d run through possible requests in his head, but black magic hadn’t been on the list. Way off the mark.
“Sorry, but... may I ask why? It’s just so unexpected... Did black magic catch your interest?”
“Nah, honestly? Not really. Wouldn’t say this to your face, but between regular magic and black magic, which is superior? Magic, no question.”
“No offense taken. But then why learn it?”
“To get stronger. And ‘learning black magic’ isn’t about casting it—it’s prep for fusing emotions and mana.”
“Ah... Yes, got it.”
Oliver accepted on the spot. Almost anticlimactically easy.
Fusing emotions and mana.
By all rights, considering its value and power, he shouldn’t hand it over like this—but Oliver didn’t bat an eye.
Even Kevin, who thought he had a read on him, found it disconcerting.
Mage or black mage, knowledge was paramount. Yet Oliver operated without that mindset.
“Ah, not for free, of course.”
Oliver added, as if it had just hit him.
Kevin felt relief over irritation. These things felt right when they followed basic sense.
“...What do you want?”
“I’d like you to teach me things in return. Magic, the Magic Tower, your research, military mage work, your training under the Elder... Personal stories you’d rather not share.”
“...Why? Suddenly curious?”
“Not sudden. Been wondering for a while, but as the one getting help, I held back.”
“No interest in trading something else?”
“Hmm... None.”
“...One thing I’ve realized.”
“Yes? What?”
“I don’t like you.”
About two weeks had passed since Oliver and Kevin struck their deal.
In that time, they teamed up to tackle comprehensive grading, summer semester sign-ups, curriculum reports and budget requests, personal research applications and scheduling, and a mountain of other paperwork.
Not a total onslaught, but tasks poured in relentlessly like a horse that never rested. Fortunately, it all wrapped up around 9 p.m. that night.
“Good work.”
Oliver rose after the final task, stretching out his paperwork-stiffened body with a series of cracks.
Kevin stretched too as he replied. A rare glimpse of vulnerability he’d never show outsiders... Proof that after a semester side by side, he’d grown used to Oliver, no matter how he played it off.
“You too. Head home.”
“Yes, sir... You’re not leaving, Professor?”
Oliver eyed Kevin, who showed zero signs of budging.
“I’ve got a little more to do.”
“Ah, then I’ll stick around and help finish up.”
“No need. Don’t need your help. Honestly, better off without. Go home, rest three days, then report back.”
“Ah... Got it.”
Oliver caught the sincerity in Kevin’s tone, bowed politely, and clocked out.
Kevin slumped back in his chair, savoring the relief of endless drudgery done—and the fatigue it brought—with a deep breath.
“...Coming in even more casually now.”
Kevin remarked, sensing the presence amid his break.
Merlin, who’d slipped into the office via magic, replied.
“Sorry about that. But didn’t I tell you—”
“—that a master has the right to invade a disciple’s privacy, disregard it all, and shatter their peace? Yeah, I know—from way too much experience... Still, what if you get caught waltzing in like this? The One Masters won’t like it.”
“Don’t worry. No chance of that. I always check first.”
Merlin dragged over a chair and settled across from Kevin.
Not empty reassurance—pure fact. Kevin had nothing more to say.
His master was Archive Merlin, after all.
“...Your grades this semester are stingy as ever.”
Merlin blurted out of nowhere. Kevin shrugged it off.
“Grades are the professor’s call.”
“Keep it up, and no one’ll sign up next semester.”
“Doesn’t matter. Take it or leave it... I’d pass on anyone chasing grades without the chops anyway.”
“Won’t that hurt your personnel review? Masters get judged on students trained. Those kids become mages later, wield influence.”
“Review? Cover it elsewhere. Don’t need that politics crap. Skill crushes all. That why you’re here?”
“No. Just saying thanks. Figured you’d hole up in personal research over break, but you took the summer semester too.”
“Nah, it’s fine. Got interested. And something even more intriguing than research came up.”
Kevin meant it. He’d planned military magic research to build clout, but emotion-mana fusion gripped him harder.
Military magic was short-term gains; fusion could permanently boost him a level—or several.
Black magic carried risks, sure, but worth every one. That’s power for you.
“Good to hear.”
“Yeah... Since you’re here, mind if I ask something?”
“The trip?”
“Nah. Curious, yeah, but you won’t spill. If you were gonna, you’d have by now.”
“Heh heh... You know me too well. Shoot.”
“Nothing huge, just nagging at me. At dinner with Dave last time, you brought up Eve, right?”
“Yep.”
“Can’t shake it. You were skeptical Eve could emerge from pure data accumulation, weren’t you?”
True enough.
Eve—the World Tree’s will. Not born yet, but destined to be, or so they believed.
Mages in the field offered theories, published papers.
A potential revolution.
Merlin counted himself among them, but bucked the mainstream: data alone wouldn’t birth Eve.
Bricks aplenty won’t build a tower without cement and rebar—that was his line, hammered hard.
Yet there, over dinner with Dave, he’d claimed data would suffice. Trivial maybe, but it bugged Kevin.
“Late change of heart?”
“Hmm... No.”
“Then why?”
“Felt like the right play there.”
Kevin went quiet. He’d sensed it long ago: Merlin handled Dave like a volatile abscess.
Handed him over originally just to observe from arm’s length.
Then again, the kid’s talent, skills, unknowable quirks? Made sense.
“Got it.”
“Hmm... Since it’s on the table, my turn. Why do you think Eve popped up?”
“? Beats me. You authorities included—just grasping at clouds.”
“Hypothetical. Say some glitch lets emotions access the World Tree. Thoughts?”
“Huh?”
“Asked what happens if emotions tap the World Tree.”
“That’s... impossible, right?”
“Hence ‘hypothetical’ and ‘glitch.’”
“Then... Emotions flood in, react with the stored mana and data... Ah.”
Kevin let out a dazed half-sound.
He knew one person who could pull it off.