How a Wizard Survives (2)
How a Wizard Survives (2)
There's bad news and worse news.
The bad news: the Heretic Inquisitors' wagon already had a passenger.
Since this was a mage transport wagon, he was obviously a mage.
The worse news: I caught a glimpse of his face.
When the wagon door opened, his face in the torchlight looked exactly like the mage I'd been imagining all night.
A disheveled middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, filthy from not washing.
He looked like a walking advertisement for a demon's lackey.
"Wait! You think I'm a mage...? Open up, please!"
And the real kicker: he wasn't even properly restrained.
Feeling like I'd just been caged with a wild beast, I hammered on the wall with all my strength, shouting, but no answer came from outside.
In the darkness, the mage simply stared at me, utterly still.
Even without a sliver of light, I could feel his gaze unmistakably.
I had long since tired of pounding on the walls when the stationary wagon finally jolted into motion.
Morning had probably come and they'd resumed the transport.
Whoever built this thing had given no thought to comfort; every jolt bounced me off the floor.
The wagon was so sturdy and tightly sealed that still no sunlight leaked through.
Out of the cramped darkness came a voice, hoarse as if rusted over from long disuse.
"Done screaming now?"
"Ah! Uh, mister... are you really a mage?"
"I'm a mage, which is why I'm bound like this. Same reason you were taken, isn't it?"
To my surprise, he was actually talking.
That gave me some courage.
"I don't even know how to use magic. This must be some mistake on their part, don't you think?"
"Could be. But banging on the wall won't help. It's noisy, so cut it out."
"Still, I have to let them know it's unjust..."
"Whether you're innocent or not doesn't matter. Those Heretic Inquisitor bastards protect peace and justice by rounding up and killing innocent people too."
"No, that's..."
Ignoring my indignation, the mage continued in an infuriatingly calm voice.
"Why act surprised? As if only the guilty get punished? Was that little village of yours some kind of beautiful, fair paradise?"
"Not that, but..."
"See? That's life."
"Then why did a high-and-mighty man like you get caught? Aren't you going to be executed soon too?"
My growing dislike got the better of me, and I snapped; an eerie laugh came from across the wagon.
"My situation's different from yours. Even when we reach the Inquisitors' main base, I don't have to worry about dying."
"H-how?"
"Because I'm a Permanent Sealing Target."
"?"
The mage in the dark savored my confusion for a moment before generously offering an explanation.
"If the Heretic Inquisitors kill me, the demon I'm contracted with will collect my soul. Then that demon grows stronger, which makes fighting them harder in the end."
"..."
So they can't even execute real mages?
I froze in disbelief. The mage went on.
"Of course, not every mage is a Permanent Sealing Target. But I happen to be too powerful to just kill off without a second thought."
"Then how did a mage that powerful get caught?"
"Well, that's the question, isn't it."
He easily laughed off my jab and fell silent again.
His nonchalance nearly drove me mad with injustice.
They don't kill the real mages, and this is what I get?
If I'd known, I would've fled to the city and learned magic sooner.
"Getting dragged off to war felt unfair enough to kill me, and now it's execution..."
"Should've listened when the grown-ups told you not to do something."
The mage teased me relentlessly, never tiring of it.
He might as well have been fanning the flames of a burning house.
"Should've just stayed quietly in your hole, right? But no, you had to stick your neck out, and now look at you."
"What does that matter? I was conscript material anyway. Odds are I'd have been dragged to the front lines and died there."
As I defended myself, I suddenly grew angry.
Until now, I'd only felt wronged. Now every emotion boiled over into rage.
"No, fuck—either way I die, is that it? I die, so that the high and mighty can live. Is that all I'm good for?"
In the end, none of my village friends had stood by me.
They said it was for their own survival, but they'd sold me out without a moment's hesitation.
What kind of world is this?
"What did I even do wrong!"
"So, are you saying you did the right thing?"
A completely dead-serious voice came from the other side.
I was dead already. What did I care? I snarled at him outright.
Let the Heretic Inquisitors outside hear, for all I care.
No, I wanted them to hear it loud and clear.
"So what, am I supposed to live my whole life on my knees? If I were a real mage, I wouldn't even feel so wronged! Fine, kill me! But mark my words, if you keep up this kind of shit, one day you'll get a blade in your back!"
The echo of my voice in the cramped wagon died away, and perfect silence fell.
As I waited for the Heretic Inquisitors outside to react, what reached my ears was...
Utterly out of place came slow, deliberate applause.
Clap, clap, clap...
"Hmm, wasn't expecting much, but I see some promise."
"...What?"
"You pass."
Clap.
At the mage's final clap, the wagon walls came crashing down.
I squeezed my eyes shut against the dazzling light and found myself slumped on a nameless grassy plain.
When my eyes finally adjusted and I opened them, the shabby mage I'd glimpsed earlier was standing upright.
The scruffy beard vanished in an instant. He had transformed into an immaculately dressed gentleman.
A face so handsome I'd never seen its equal in my life.
It wasn't just his looks; his entire outfit had changed.
"Wh... what in the world?"
As I turned my head, utterly lost, the Heretic Inquisitors from yesterday were nowhere to be seen.
In their place, deer and dogs stood about, looking blankly in our direction.
With a single wave of the mage's hand, they all scattered in a flurry.
Could it be? Had this mage fabricated everything from start to finish?
Just as I arrived at that conclusion, he dipped his head in a belated greeting.
"I am Ulysses, the Wizard of Change."
He looked down at me and extended his right hand.
In contrast to his delicate face, his hand was thick and heavily callused.
"If you're willing, I'll teach you how to survive as a mage."
"You tricked me, didn't you? And what if I'm not willing?"
"Then we part ways and go our separate roads. But you're definitely a mage, so watch yourself—don't get caught by the Heretic Inquisitors."
Once my head cooled, I could finally think straight.
Traveling with an unidentified mage, huh.
I'd been slated to die in the army anyway... Under the circumstances, isn't this a decent deal?
I sprang to my feet, smacked his hand aside, and promptly bowed my head.
"I'll be in your care, Teacher."
"Oh, quick on the uptake. Some kind of Adaptation Mage?"
"There are different kinds of mages?"
"Naturally. Mages are generally classified by the demon they've contracted with. More on that as we go."
Ulysses waved his hand lightly, and the nearby grass transformed into fine steeds.
Eyes wide, I took his hand and climbed onto a horse.
@
Having never ridden a horse in my life, I was forced to rely on my teacher's help.
The ominous mage, Ulysses, shifted his form once more, took the reins, and spurred the horse forward.
This time, he appeared as a sturdier, more rugged middle-aged man.
As I struggled to keep my balance on the swaying horse's back, he, surprisingly sociable, struck up a conversation.
"By the way, what's our dear disciple's name?"
"Green."
"Common, and not a good fit. Just to be safe, let's change it. First rule of survival: Deceive."
"Deceive? Who?"
"Everyone."
He murmured a few names before settling on one.
"Then let's go with Jaeger. Works for you?"
"Um, Teacher. Can I really become a mage?"
"Become? You already are a mage. Why else would I have brought you along?"
"What? But I can't do any of the things you do."
I had barely begun getting used to calling him Teacher when the conversation moved on.
I gaped at him, stunned, and he chuckled, turning the reins slightly as he explained.
"There are broadly two types of mages. The first are Contractors—people like me, who gained power by making a contract with a demon."
"Contractors..."
"You could become a Contractor too, but I wouldn't recommend it. When you become a Contractor, your soul is held as collateral by a demon."
Come to think of it, hadn't he said that when he dies, the demon reclaims his soul?
As the thought crossed my mind, he nodded, almost as if reading it.
"Everything I said inside the wagon was the truth."
"D-did you read my mind with magic?"
"No. It just showed on your face. I'll have to train you in the poker face later."
He suppressed a sigh, then continued in a voice that sounded oddly pleased.
"Anyway, you're not a Contractor. You're the second type. An Awakened One."
"Awakened One?"
"Someone whose mana awakened without a demonic contract. In terms of pure talent as a mage, you're far better than me."
"Th-that can't..."
Ulysses's magic I'd seen earlier had been almost impossible to believe, even with my own eyes.
To fabricate not just the wagon, but even the Heretic Inquisitors...
The villagers hadn't noticed a thing.
And I was supposed to have more talent than that?
Ulysses lightly rapped me on the head when he saw my genuine shock.
"Don't get the wrong idea. It just means every Awakened One has more talent than me."
"Th-then how many Awakened Ones are there?"
"Extremely rare. I don't think there's been one besides you in about three hundred years. If there had been, the Inquisition would've caught and killed them long ago."
'I was that rare an existence?'
I almost suspected Ulysses was lying, but...
He had absolutely nothing to gain by deceiving someone like me.
Saying there was a long way to go, Ulysses gradually picked up speed.