Confronting the Fear
Intellect might be a matter of natural talent, but studying was an acquired discipline. The habit of sitting at a desk and poring over texts from a young age was something that followed a person well into adulthood.
Reed had known none of this. No one had ever taught him. Neither in his past life nor in his present one had he ever been granted the luxury of a proper education.
Which was why it came as a profound shock to him when he realized he had passed out cold the moment he sat down to study.
He hadn't merely dozed off, either. He had slept straight through until the sun dipped below the horizon. Worse still, he had slept so deeply that his body felt disgustingly refreshed. When was the last time he had slept like a log like that?
Loty offered a wry smile.
"Must've been exhausted. You were sleeping so soundly I felt bad even thinking about waking you."
"I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to..."
Reed trailed off, burning with humiliation. To beg someone to teach him and then instantly doze off—Loty must have found him utterly pathetic.
Even I have to wonder what kind of idiot I am.
To squander such a golden opportunity so stupidly! Reed wanted nothing more than to smash his own head against the wall for his sheer uselessness.
Just then, Loty chuckled softly.
"It's gotten pretty late, but... do you still want to keep going?"
Reed's head snapped up.
"Wait, really? Are you sure?"
"Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do tonight. A good senior ought to guide his junior, after all!"
"Senior...!"
Loty, whom Reed had privately thought of as a bit of a pushover, looked like an absolute angel at that moment.
"Let's start light with basic reading and writing. Once you get the fundamentals down, you'll be able to study on your own."
"Yes, sir!"
"Alright, let's try reading again."
The lesson resumed. Having already slept his fill, drowsiness was no longer an issue. Yet, as Reed sat listening to Loty explain the letters, he began to squirm. A maddening restlessness crawled beneath his skin.
If asked to shovel manure in a reeking barn or haul bricks under the blistering summer sun on a construction site, Reed could have done it without a second thought. But sitting motionless in a wooden chair, staring at tiny scribbles on parchment? It was excruciating. He tried desperately to bear it, but his limbs practically twitched of their own accord.
Loty wasn't blind to his complete inability to focus.
"This isn't working. Let's walk. Moving around ought to help."
"Pardon?"
Loty snapped open a newspaper and began pacing at an easy stride. Occasionally he broke into a jog, and at times he even hopped lightly on the spot. Reed mimicked his movements, listening intently to Loty's instructions while pacing back and forth across the room.
Moving his body made an undeniable difference. It felt as though he were absorbing knowledge through his physical senses rather than solely straining his mind. While still tedious, it was vastly more bearable. The dejection that had weighed on Reed gave way to renewed confidence.
I can do this.
From that day on, the real study began.
Meister Anton was swamped with work anyway, and both Reed and Loty had suffered plenty during the Crystal Kobold incident. Taking that into account, the Guildmaster granted both of them some time off, giving Reed room to focus entirely on learning his letters.
The pair wandered through the Stonemasons' Union hall, pacing while reading newspapers and old tomes.
"What in the world are those two doing?"
"Studying how to read, apparently."
"Then why are they pacing around like that?"
"Ugh, they're giving me a headache! Go do that outside!"
Chased out by irritated complaints, they were relegated to the union's rear courtyard. But nothing could dampen Reed's zeal.
After taking lessons from Loty during the day, Reed spent his evenings reviewing his studies at home.
Sitting still in a chair remained pure torture, but he pushed himself through sheer willpower, occasionally slapping his own cheeks to stay awake and focused.
Whenever he did, Shaka would watch him with deadpan pity.
"I hit for you?"
"...No, I'm good. Wait, what's that hanging out of your mouth? Is that a rat's tail...?"
Gulp.
"Spit it out right now!"
Reed's obsessive drive soon bore fruit. By the fourth day of study, he could read and write with surprising fluency. While he still stumbled over obscure vocabulary, he could deduce the meaning of unfamiliar words from context alone.
Even Loty, his tutor, was left dumbfounded.
"Damn, you pick things up fast. I knew mages were sharp, but I didn't expect you to absorb it this quickly... Wait, you didn't already know how to read and just play dumb, did you?"
"Haha. How could that be?"
"Right, of course not."
Reed clenched his fists in triumph. He had finally broken free from illiteracy. He had taken his very first step toward becoming a truly educated man!
Having unlocked the joy of reading, Reed carried a newspaper tucked under his arm wherever he went.
Though he still had to pace slowly while reading to keep his focus, learning new things proved to be an exhilarating, immensely satisfying endeavor.
Furthermore, the papers were packed with fascinating information: incidents large and small unfolding across the West, notices of births and passings, and even job postings.
Seeking skilled and courageous riders.
Must be prepared to face death.
Orphans prioritized for hire.
Weekly Pay: 3 Silver Coins
"Hah."
Reed let out a quiet whistle. Hiring those prepared to die, with preference given to orphans? It was an unsparingly grim recruitment notice. The handsome pay of three silver coins a week only emphasized just how deadly the trade truly was.
Then again, few lines of work could be more perilous than a courier's.
Navigating the Demonic Borderlands, where outlaws and magical beasts lurked behind every ridge, meant living under constant threat of death.
Reed recalled Harlock, the courier who had traveled with him from Asterritz to Morasil. Even Harlock had been forced to fight for his life when the pack of Fishmen ambushed them in the wasteland.
Everyone has it rough out here.
Under normal circumstances, his thoughts would have ended there before moving to the next article. After all, it wasn't his business. There was no reason to dwell on it. Yet remembering Harlock dragged other, far darker memories to the surface.
Asterritz.
The imperial city he had fled.
The Black Blade Syndicate.
The ruthless gang that ruled its back alleys.
"..."
The Black Blade Syndicate was likely still searching for him.
Or were they?
Truth be told, he had no idea. Perhaps, by some stroke of luck, the entire gang had already been purged. Should he simply leave it to fate and put it out of his mind?
No.
Reed shook his head. His recent brush with the street thugs had taught him a vital lesson: trembling in vague apprehension was far worse than confronting reality head-on.
Naturally, prodding the brush might only stir up a venomous viper. But Reed was certain that investigating the truth was a hundred times better than living the rest of his days haunted by nightmares of retribution from the Black Blade Syndicate.
Without hesitation, Reed made his way toward the Western Delivery Company.
Located in the western district of Morasil, the company compound bustled with activity as couriers mounted on horses and Pickards rode in and out.
At the outdoor tables, off-duty couriers were gathered drinking, smoking, and playing cards. Each carried at least one weapon at their waist or across their back, looking thoroughly seasoned in violence.
Among them, Reed spotted a familiar face.
"Harlock!"
"Hmm? Oh! It's you!"
Toying with his cards, Harlock grinned broadly upon recognizing him.
"Alright, boys. That's my cue to cash out."
"Damn it, running off while you're ahead?"
"Can't help it. An honored guest just arrived."
The other riders shot glances at Reed and Shaka. Grumbling under their breath, they didn't push the matter.
Harlock clapped a friendly hand onto Reed's shoulder and let out a theatrical sigh.
"Whew! I was just racking my brain trying to figure out how to take my winnings and bolt, and you showed up at the perfect moment. Is this fellow a new friend?"
"This is Shaka. My bodyguard."
"Oho. Sounds like you're in good hands."
Harlock nodded toward Shaka before turning back to Reed.
"So, what brings you here?"
"Well... do you still travel to Asterritz often?"
"Hmm? I run the regular mail route there, yeah. Why? Got something you want delivered?"
"Not quite. I was hoping you could gather some information about the Black Blade Syndicate whenever you stop in Asterritz."
Surprised by the unexpected request, Harlock tilted his head in thought, then nodded.
"That's easy enough. But why ask about those troublemakers?"
"Just personal curiosity. In any case, you can do it, right?"
"Provided the compensation is right, sure."
Reed handed over a silver coin.
Some might scoff at paying such a hefty sum for a favor done on an existing route, but Reed saw it differently. Haggling unfairly only bred resentment. A man paid handsomely would carry out his task with diligence and responsibility.
Two weeks, give or take...
It would take roughly a fortnight for Harlock to return with word of the gang. Would he bring good news, or bad? And if it were bad news, how should Reed respond?
Questions tangled in his mind. Yet this sharpened tension felt infinitely better than trembling in directionless dread.
Glancing at Shaka, who stood blank-faced beside him, Reed thought:
Well, one way or another, things will work out.
From that day forth, Reed poured most of his waking hours into training.
He knew all too well that when push came to shove, the only thing he could truly rely on was his own strength.
⟨ Earth Control ⟩
⟨ Earth Grasp ⟩
⟨ Property Alteration — Hardening ⟩
⟨ Property Alteration — Crystallization ⟩
Four spells in total. Yet Reed now understood that magic could be applied in countless ways depending on how they were combined.
During his clash with the alley thugs, for instance, Reed had turned aside an enemy blade using Property Alteration — Hardening. He had shaped compacted soil into an impromptu shield.
But that relies heavily on my reflexes.
If an opponent struck from his blind spot, could he reliably erect a shield in time?
To address this, Reed devised a method of using Earth Control to wrap his entire body in soil. Solidifying that layer with Property Alteration — Hardening would produce a wearable suit of earthen armor.
However, since it was his first attempt at such a technique, the thickness of the soil layer was inconsistent, and his mastery of Property Alteration — Hardening was still too rudimentary to make it truly impregnable.
It might deflect a blade once, but a heavier strike would shatter it instantly. Then it's useless as armor. In that case...
Reed coated himself in dirt once more, this time invoking a different spell.
The dirt twisted, interlocking and transmuting into transparent quartz. An armor of pure crystal encased Reed's entire frame—looking just like a miniature Crystal Kobold.
"Gah! Bloody hell!"
Loty, who had been passing by, practically jumped out of his skin. He clutched his chest, eyes wide.
"You scared the life out of me! I still have nightmares about that monster, damn it!"
"You scare far too easily, Senior."
"Shut it! You're the weird one for having no fear!"
Regardless, the crystal armor was far sturdier than its earthen predecessor. Yet it was not without flaws. For one, it burned through mana rapidly; for another, the sheer weight pinned Reed to the spot, making it nearly impossible to move.
Now I get why that Crystal Kobold couldn't get back up once it fell.
There was no such thing as an invincible spell, nor a flawless technique. The true measure of a combat mage lay in executing the right spell at the right moment in the right manner.
Through days of relentless practice, Reed gradually got the hang of forming armor. Though clumsy and slow at first, he steadily honed his rhythm until he could cast it with enough speed to be viable in actual combat.
"Shaka. Thrust at me."
"Understood."
Thwack!
Shaka lunged forward with full force. In that split second, Reed brought forth a layer of soil to envelop his torso, and the wooden spear bounced harmlessly off the reinforced barrier.
He had finally reached his self-imposed benchmark!
Any other mage watching this display would have stared with bulging eyes, likely shouting, "That's impossible!"
Mastering even a single spell normally demanded months of disciplined study, and wielding it adaptively in live combat was even rarer. Yet Reed's rate of progression was astonishingly swift—testament to his razor-sharp instincts.
Moreover, Reed genuinely enjoyed magic training. Moving his body and testing physical results suited his temperament far better than being chained to a desk. It helped immensely that he possessed an abundant reservoir of mana, allowing him to practice relentlessly without burning out.
When latent talent met unyielding effort, rapid growth was inevitable. Through fervent discipline, Reed took steady steps forward as a mage. At least, that was how it felt to him.
To any onlooker, that pace was anything but "steady."
One morning amidst his ongoing training, Guildmaster Darahalt clicked his tongue while holding an official letter. The twitching of his massive pectoral muscles made his profound annoyance plain to see.
One of the masons asked, "What is it, Guildmaster?"
"An order to inspect the underground sewers."
"Ah. That time of year already?"
The surrounding masons sighed and shook their heads.
Looking up from his newspaper, Reed whispered to Loty, "Inspect the sewers?"
"It's an annual commission from the Governor's Palace. Morasil has an enormous sewer network beneath it."
Morasil boasted an exceptionally advanced water and drainage infrastructure. Drainage trenches ran alongside every paved stone road, interspersed with grates that directed waste into the subterranean network. With fresh water channeled directly from the Tebe River, clean water was easily accessible anywhere in the city, while the efficient sewage system kept foul odors at bay.
You only see as much as you know. The more Reed learned about masonry, the more he realized that Morasil had been erected through borderline miraculous engineering. There was good reason it was regarded as one of the wonders of the Demonic Borderlands.
They say this was an ancient precursor city. Just how advanced was their technology?
Morasil's underground sewers were the culmination of that lost brilliance.
Of course, acknowledging its grandeur was one thing; stepping foot inside was another entirely.
Loty shuddered.
"It reeks, it's pitch black, and the tunnels are a labyrinth. Crawling around down there? Ugh, I don't even want to think about it."
"Didn't you say the request came straight from the Governor's Palace?"
"That's the problem! We can't refuse even if we wanted to. God, please just don't let it be me."
A dirty, grueling chore that everybody despises...
Reed knew all too well who usually got saddled with that sort of work.
Sure enough, Darahalt's gaze locked right onto Loty. A smirk spread across the dwarf's bearded face.
"Come to think of it, you two have had plenty of free time lately."
"...Pardon?"
"Perfect. You two take it. It's not like it's complicated work anyway. Loty, you're about due to stand on your own two feet. How long do you plan to hide behind Meister Anton's coattails?"
"Uh, well, the thing is—"
"You're doing it, right?"
"...Yes, sir."
Loty was an apprentice, not a full-fledged journeyman. He had no say in the matter. When told to jump, an apprentice could only ask how high.
The following morning, Reed and Loty gathered their tools early and stood before the sewer entrance.
Loty grumbled sullenly, "Damn it all. First the Crystal Kobold, now this. My luck's been rotten lately."
"Still, it's better than sitting around doing nothing, right? Besides, we don't have to inspect the entire network."
"I suppose... Yeah, since we're stuck doing it, we might as well knock it out quick. Besides, Morasil's sewers are practically ancient ruins. Who knows? With some luck, maybe we'll stumble onto a valuable artifact."
Finding artifacts in a sewer? The prospect didn't sound particularly realistic to Reed, but he nodded anyway. Loty probably hadn't meant it seriously either.
"Shall we head in, then?" Reed asked, sounding eager.
In truth, he was genuinely curious about the subterranean architecture built by the ancients. While reading newspapers had sated his thirst for information, walking the ground and studying things firsthand suited him far better.
Scratching his head at Reed's enthusiasm, Loty rubbed his neck sheepishly.
"Ah, I forgot to mention. We're not working alone."
"Excuse me?"
"They should be here any minute..."
Right on cue, a chirpy, singsong voice rang out from behind them.
"Hello! Hello! A very good morning to you all!"
Reed and Loty turned around simultaneously.
Standing there was a woman beaming with relentless cheer. Dressed impeccably in crisp black trousers and a starch-white shirt, she flashed an impossibly radiant grin of gleaming teeth. Her shirt was pressed without a single wrinkle, neat to an almost clinical degree.
Up to that point, one might simply take her for someone with meticulous grooming habits.
Except trailing behind her was an entourage draped in tattered robes.
Beneath the deeply pulled hoods were pale, bleached bones. Within the hollow eye sockets of their skulls, eerie blue pinpricks of light flickered silently.
Skeletons?
Reed flinched, instinctively taking a step back.
Unfazed in the slightest, the woman stepped forward with a sparkling introduction.
"Pleasure to meet you! I am Iseline, Gold-grade member of the Necromancer Cooperative!"
She was a necromancer.