Chapter 325
Chapter 325
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 325
Chapter Title: How to Survive as the Second Son of a Magical Noble Family
-----------------------------------------------------------------
“…….”
Mecklenburg finally cracked a faint smile. It was obvious from his whole demeanor that he had no desire to get involved with me. I curled up the corner of my mouth at him. I didn’t particularly want to chat either, but I had to execute my plan right now.
“Ah. I’m doing exactly what you told me to, Senior. I just came back from playing with the dogs. Do you know their names?”
Mecklenburg immediately turned his head away. He wasn’t even trying to hide it—he probably thought there was no value in conversing with me.
“Truth be told, I’ve never raised dogs before, so I was a bit worried about whether I could take good care of them. But as you said, it was just a matter of making them recognize the mana, so it wasn’t that hard. Today, I received your mana palette and trained them with it rubbed on...”
As I tugged at my collar to demonstrate, Mecklenburg abruptly cut me off.
“How kind of you to report every little detail.”
“I thought the same, but... I mentioned it in case you were wondering why your mana is lingering on my clothes.”
Mecklenburg let out a long, audible sigh and stared straight at me with a smiling face.
“Not wondering.”
“…….”
Of course not. I’m not curious about your answer either.
I stared at him blankly before shrugging my shoulders.
“At first, you seemed plenty kind to me.”
“Don’t feel that way now, do you?”
“You just look a little tired right now.”
“They must standardize their manner of speaking in Ascanien too.”
“Who knows.”
I tilted my head and put on a thoughtful expression.
“I wouldn’t know, but the brother you seem to know must be a lot like me. I’ve actually been seeing my brother in you, Senior. Hearing you say that...”
I swallowed once and murmured softly.
“...makes me happy.”
“…….”
Silence stretched on. The corner of Mecklenburg’s mouth stiffened as he watched my face. He turned his head away while maintaining his forced smile.
“Let’s begin.”
“Yes.”
Light was already filtering into the white space. I closed my eyes against the wind blowing in my face. Once it died down a bit, I looked around. A city reduced to rubble and ashes, the time around noon perhaps. Sunlight peeking intermittently from behind clouds shone down on the makeshift observation platform where we stood. A rusted green table held scattered papers and artifacts, disturbed by drifting dust that made reading difficult. It was completely different from any field we’d faced before.
“The city’s total ruins. Is that ash?”
“All we have are a map, building blueprints, newspapers, and artifacts.”
He ignored my pointless question and tapped the radio artifact as he spoke. He’d been openly showing his dislike for me the whole time, but during the exam, he was speaking normally. His amber eyes, devoid of any emotion, scanned the surroundings before returning to me.
“Mr. Ascanien.”
“Yes, Senior.”
“Be quiet from now on.”
“…….”
Ah... Was I too noisy?
My strategy isn’t over yet—I can’t fold here. And beyond that, his words carried more weight than just a hint to shut up. Even as teammates, it was ultimately a game to select the top player, so everyone had to shine individually. Our esteemed Special Operations Command staff officer must be lurking somewhere here, and since he was present, to secure the top spot in whatever mysterious TF was to come, he couldn’t afford to give me any openings. Telling me not to step up meant one thing in the end.
I hardened my expression slightly and asked.
“Are you planning to lead the strategy, Senior?”
“Any problem with that?”
Mecklenburg raised an eyebrow as he spoke. His tone was soft, but the speed wasn’t—it was sharp. My words must have sounded like I was trying to usurp his position, so he wouldn’t like it. I looked at him and shook my head slightly.
“...Do as you wish, Senior.”
“…….”
Mecklenburg pointed at locations on the map spread on the table. I leaned against a cement pillar behind, arms crossed, watching him place markers according to the radio announcements. When he moved the third marker, I opened my mouth.
“Truth be told, saying this now might fluster you, but...”
“I told you to be quiet.”
“I really wanted to sync up with you as a teammate, so I’m glad for this chance.”
Mecklenburg’s hand stopped.
“Though I didn’t get many chances to talk with my brother, I always heard from those around that you, Excellency Mecklenburg, were his closest friend—and just as outstanding as him. When I actually met you, you matched the image I’d pictured since childhood perfectly, which really surprised me. We’ve had a few differences of opinion, sure, but that’s bound to happen.”
“…….”
“So... You might not like me, Senior, but I still can’t believe I’m on the same team as someone I’ve always admired.”
“Be quiet.”
Mecklenburg replied coolly without lifting his head from the map. The marker he’d just placed wobbled unsteadily. I stepped forward from the pillar, pressed it down firmly, and waited for his words. But no matter how long I waited, nothing came, and he kept his head bowed over the map, hands braced on the table.
“…….”
I tipped my hat back slightly and looked up at the sky. Sunlight filtered through pale vitriol smoke veiling it.
This game consisted of three sets total, with five minutes allotted for strategy and seven minutes afterward to find the portal to the Pleroma base and the prisoners within this urban area. We couldn’t just poke around randomly. We had to use these five minutes wisely, but two were already gone. I turned back to Mecklenburg and quietly spoke.
“Tell me what to do. Whatever orders you give, I’ll follow with all I’ve got.”
At my words, Mecklenburg unexpectedly lifted his head, and I quickly arranged an appropriate expression. I’d already flushed my face with tension beforehand, so it wasn’t hard. A new emotion flickered across his face.
“…….”
It wasn’t the smug pride or cockiness I’d seen in the 98th Batch A-Team members. It was more like... a jumble of emotions led by tension and anxiety. Occupational hazard comes in handy at times like this. I smiled, feeling a chill crawl up my neck.
I’d anticipated it, but seeing it firsthand brought even greater pleasure.
“You’re finally looking at me now.”
“…….”
In more ways than one.
I grinned as I said it and tapped my watch.
“Already two minutes thirty seconds gone. We’ll head to the field soon. Give orders quickly.”
Whether lost in thought or his mind blanked from some blow, Mecklenburg nodded silently and listened to the radio.
[...A massive fire has broken out at the 3 o’clock position from City Hall. Citizens remaining in Berlin, please avoid entering East Brandenburg and evacuate in other directions. A massive fire at the 3 o’clock position from City Hall...]
He clamped his mouth shut, clenched his fist, and placed a no-entry marker on the map. He should’ve been flipping through newspapers and placing all markers by now—this was no time to dawdle. Not that I’d planned to let him, having slowed him down myself.
‘...Working great.’
No matter the plan, I couldn’t assume the opponent would move as I wished. If Narke hadn’t tossed that advice in passing, I wouldn’t have bothered with this act, but it was so effective I owed him thanks.
Even if he saw through my flattery as fake, he was already caught in immediate expectations and the need to prove himself. I’d used a similar tack on the 98th Batch A-Team, though slightly different—I’d appealed that I admired each member and studied their strengths accordingly—and they’d decided showing off to a junior was fine, but unlike Mecklenburg, tension hadn’t slowed their thinking. This reaction surprised even me... exceeding expectations to the point of unease. If Leon or anyone else had said the same, he’d have just smiled it off. But because it was me, it hit.
‘...Madness in another direction.’
Instinctively, chills ran down my spine. Yes, his craving for recognition far surpassed normal, triggering this instant response. It stemmed from fifteen years of growing alongside Adrian Ascanien without it.
‘Whatever. Not the time.’
I’d seized the chance; now to think. Watching the second hand tick, I surveyed the area. Leon and the 91st Class Representative on the opposite side had likely finished their strategy by now.
‘One of them might come for me.’
If so, Leon, who knew me too well, would come to take me out, buying the 91st Class Representative time to move per plan. Shame I couldn’t smash Leon’s core to wipe his memory. I snapped my fingers, jolting Leon’s core, and thought. Artifacts were allowed here with permission, but for Leon’s, I couldn’t explain its purpose to others, so I’d held off. Meaning Leon couldn’t zap my core.
I kept jolting his core while flipping through newspapers, reading the dense text.
[Unter den Linden devastated... Vitriol contamination over 80%, entry prohibited until purification]
[Treptower Park temporarily closed]
[Spree River contaminated with vitriol and runaway drugs]
[Grunewald Forest-Havel-Pfaueninsel-Western Düppler Forest: Continuous reports of Pleroma executives sighted... Suspected Pfaueninsel garrison]
‘Feels real.’
They’d simulated something that shouldn’t happen in reality. I checked the final update time on the articles: 10 AM.
Conversely, vitriol-runaway drug contamination at key points updated in real-time, with hourly past copies here—thankfully. I first checked the 10 AM contamination status.
‘Berlin Spree River ★★★, Berlin Havel River southwest ★☆☆, Jungfernsee-Tiefersee ★★★, Langer See-Müggelsee ☆☆☆, Tegelersee ☆☆☆...’
A long list, but these caught my eye.
And at noon.
‘Berlin Spree River ★★☆, Berlin Havel River southwest ★★☆, Jungfernsee-Tiefersee ★★★, Langer See-Müggelsee ★★★, Tegelersee ★☆☆.’
I read the river contamination info in the status box, mentally mapping instead of stealing Mecklenburg’s.
1. Unter den Linden. Berlin’s center where we were—high contamination, but we mages could endure.
2. Treptower Park held bad memories. South-southeast from there lay Müggelsee, then Brandenburg. Northwest from Brandenburg: Müggelsee, then Treptower Park. Nearby: Pentathlon main stadium and event hall.
3. Grunewald-Havel-Pfaueninsel-Western Düppler: Berlin southwest, very close to Brandenburg.
Now rivers and lakes. Simplified flow: Müggelsee (lake)-Spree River-Havel River, southeast to northwest. Tegelersee: Berlin northwest. Jungfernsee-Tiefersee: Lakes from Havel, below those Pleroma-sighting forests.
I wasn’t super familiar with Berlin geography—not like I cared much about Seoul’s in the 21st century—but this sketched the picture.
So, my task?
“Senior.”
“Don’t rush me.”
“One minute left.”
I heard Mecklenburg swallow. I glanced at the mimetic camera, exhaled, and stood by the table. His fingertips pressed hard into it.
Earlier, he’d told me to be quiet.
Did he need to say it outright? When there was this good way to shut him up.
[Deployment permission in 30 seconds.]
At the alert, he—paler now—finally spoke, almost pushed into it.
“First, to Pfaueninsel.”
I looked down at his head, bowed over the map.
It’s over.
He’d lost his pace. Even as eternal second to his brother, he wasn’t the type for this.
“You mean check there for Pleroma traces.”
As I pressed, Mecklenburg ground out.
“Warp takes less than a minute anyway. Priority is getting clues first. Wrong?”
“Senior, you seem tense. Aren’t we in a situation where every minute counts?”
Beep—
Deployment signal, but I continued calmly.
“First, too obvious a presentation. Even if meant to hint clues, setting that aside—articles suspected Pleroma base on Pfaueninsel. You know it’s an island on Havel, with Jungfernsee and Tiefersee right below. Pleroma ditched it long ago.”
Why?
Berlin Spree River ★★★, Berlin Havel southwest ★☆☆, Jungfernsee-Tiefersee ★★★, Langer See-Müggelsee ☆☆☆, Tegelersee ☆☆☆.
10 AM.
I connected the fragmented newspaper info like a baton.
“There’s intel to glean here. You’d sense it by now, Senior.”
“…….”
If Pleroma had a base on Pfaueninsel with a portal, the lakes directly below—Jungfernsee-Tiefersee—shouldn’t be contaminated. What did that contamination imply? Not that executives hunkered there, but they’d dosed it with drugs two hours prior, flowing downstream to pollute the lakes. Our reporters mistook dosing for garrisoning—Pleroma used decoys.
This wasn’t a game. Polluting rivers didn’t spare allies—no simple no-damage system. Polluting meant allies couldn’t use them either. Same for Pleroma. Vitriol might not faze them, but their runaway drugs could poison even them temporarily. Didn’t I learn that from Abraham?
Plus, only vitriol-adapted could recover quickly from brief hits. What did the examiners demand here?
Without me voicing it, Mecklenburg seemed to grasp his mistake, mouth agape slightly. His fingertips tensed.
Thanks for biting. I’ll gladly take the initiative you handed over.
Looking at his motionless shoulders—holding breath in tension?—I spoke.
“Let’s sort possibilities first. Opponents moved already, but better thorough than hasty.”
“Wait.”
Mecklenburg closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and halted me.
“And where do you think the answer is?”
“…….”
Even swayed by emotion, he wasn’t hopeless. I only needed to break his momentum and seize control, so now he could use his head. Good question in that sense.
Pondering what “answer” to give, I pointed more fundamentally.
“Treptower Park. For now.”
* * *
Two minutes earlier.
Leon stood with the 91st Class Representative at their table, staring down at the map. She tapped it with her baton and said.
“Their Mecklenburg handles water delicately, so he’ll target riverbanks. Pleroma favors rivers anyway, so we should too from this contamination list. Thus.”
She set down the baton and looked at Leon.
“Summary done—now opinions. Only seven minutes allowed, so strategic moves. Where’s suspicious to you, Lord Witelsbach?”
Leon stared at the map awhile before looking up.
“Treptower Park seems suspicious. What do you think, Senior?”
“Same here.”
At her words, Leon smiled, stroking his chin.
Agreement was good, but he couldn’t shake the skepticism.
Was this really... worth seven minutes?