The First True Mage
“That’s it! I’m done with all of this!”
“You’re quitting?”
“You’re saying we should stop?”
“What’s the point when everyone’s just gunning for the last hit anyway? We’re better off hunting on our own!”
“Haha. Munchkin, please calm down and let’s talk this thr—”
“Get lost!”
The tent flap snapped open.
On the plains of the Central Continent, at the mouth of an ogre nest, five raid leaders sat around a round table inside a massive crimson tent, locked in heated discussion.
The one who had just stormed out was Munchkin. Of the five attempts so far, her raid party had taken the heaviest losses. She had burned through consumable strategic supplies that cost a fortune just to name the price, and she herself had died more than a few times. The other parties had suffered plenty as well, but Munchkin’s group had been forced to tank the Ogre Lord at the front, so the damage was especially brutal.
Once she was gone, the remaining four leaders eyed one another. Failure after failure, and now a deserter on top of it.
“Hopeless.”
“That’s why I keep saying we should do it properly when we do it, Heurisk.”
“You were deliberately holding your ultimate too, BeastkinLover. What are you even talking about?”
“I still fought my ass off. See? Claws missing.”
“Pour a potion on them and they’ll grow back. Big deal.”
“The point is I put in the work. Unlike you lot.”
Hmph.
The man in the form of a blue-gray wolf beastkin—BeastkinLover—shook his head in disgust.
“I never expected real cooperation anyway. But we did have an agreement, didn’t we?”
“That we’d take it down together until the HP hit ten percent?”
“Exactly! So why the hell are you spamming AoEs when it hasn’t even dropped to thirty?!”
Thud!
BeastkinLover slammed his fist onto the round table. A crack spidered across the wood. The blow was threatening enough, yet the other three leaders didn’t so much as blink.
“That’s why my people dropped like flies!”
“Who told you to save your ultimate? If you’d just poured damage in from the start, none of this would’ve happened.”
“What did you just say?!”
“Hahaha… Why is everyone like this? Come on, have some water and calm down—”
“Streamer, go stream or something. Don’t tell me you’re live right now.”
“I’m not currently, but I can fire it up right now if you want?”
“Shut it. Yeoje! You’re a problem too.”
“Me?”
“This is exactly why nothing ever gets done with Cheonsang! You people just lock down every hunting ground and the public goodwill is in the gutter!”
“…It was the will of Cheonsang.”
“Oh my god, the roleplayer is going to drive me insane.”
BeastkinLover slammed the table again in pure frustration, but Yeoje—vice guild master of Cheonsang—merely sipped her tea. Long pale-violet hair, deep purple eyes. When she smiled as if none of this concerned her in the slightest, BeastkinLover shoved his chair back and stood.
“Forget it. We’re out too. There’s no point continuing.”
“If you leave, who’s going to hold the front line?”
“Let the mage bastards do it.”
The tent flap snapped again.
With Munchkin and now BeastkinLover gone, the already sparse round table looked emptier still.
Creak.
Yeoje rose gracefully from her seat, smiling. Every movement was elegant, almost like a dance.
“Cheonsang will take our leave first as well to reorganize.”
“What do you plan to do going forward?”
“Well… first we’ll try to persuade the other parties. If that fails, I suppose we’ll simply have to manage with our own strength.”
“I see. And what do you think, Heurisk?”
“…What is there to think?”
Heurisk had watched the entire farce and reached one conclusion.
We’re screwed.
Spectacularly screwed.
He had poured endless effort into securing the last hit, and it had all come to nothing. Missing the last hit didn’t mean zero rewards, but the final blow granted the “first clear” bonus along with a unique title and exclusive rewards—hidden prizes he absolutely needed if he wanted to keep climbing.
I can’t let those slip away.
Yet without genuine cooperation, killing the ogre was impossible.
Heurisk gave a dry snort and spoke as if it were nothing.
“We’ll reconvene at a better time and clear it then. Two parties dropped out, sure… but once we gear up a little more, three should be plenty, right?”
“Yes, sir!”
“I’ll be looking forward to it.”
The three leaders exchanged empty promises and filed out of the tent.
Heurisk turned and headed for the forward base where his own raid members were waiting. His vice-leader greeted him brightly.
“How’d it go?”
“It went to shit, what else. Damn it. We were this close to snagging the last hit.”
“I told you to save the ultimate.”
“If it weren’t for those Cheonsang bastards…”
Heurisk exhaled a long sigh, dropped onto his usual rock, and began circulating mana.
The boss raid was clearly going to take longer, so gearing up came first. Right now all five parties needed to work together to bring down the Ogre Lord—but if they grew stronger?
We might be enough on our own.
Fewer mouths to feed was always the best outcome from Heurisk’s perspective.
“Hajin’s a problem too…”
“He wasn’t even competing for last hits.”
“That’s what makes it worse. He’ll play the nice guy everywhere, then the second a last-hit chance appears he’ll snatch it without blinking.”
“You think so? He seems decent on stream.”
“It’s all an act.”
Heurisk clicked his tongue and shook his head.
As if we weren’t already stuck with zero progress.
Lately he had been pouring eight hours a day into forming a mana core, and it was getting him nowhere. He kept trying to condense the mana circulating through his heart, and every attempt failed. Quantity of mana was one issue, but the real problem was that he couldn’t even glimpse a single possibility of success.
If I could just make a mana core, everything would fall into place…
For a mage like him, a mana core meant several times the efficiency in every spell. It would also solve his chronic mana shortage. The core was non-negotiable.
“Find us some hunting grounds. Look for any hidden pieces or quests that can power-level the party in a short time.”
“Got it.”
“This is a race against time. If one side snowballs and takes the kill, all hell breaks loose.”
“Oh—speaking of which, about the dragon side—”
“Not that.”
Hah…
He had no use for some obviously mediocre mana circulation method. Even if it were superior, he had no intention of putting in the effort to switch from a technique he was already used to.
Unless it completely flips the board.
“Apparently some girl over there made a ‘star’?”
“…What?”
A star?
The eyes behind Heurisk’s skull mask went wide.
“You mean a mana core?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s all community posts, but it looks solid. The clip’s short, but the cast speed and power are easily three times mine.”
“Show me.”
Heurisk watched the video his vice-leader sent. Only about ten seconds long, yet even a rank-7 mage like him felt his eyes fly open. An unknown newbie with that kind of speed and destructive force? According to the post, she had only been circulating mana for roughly ten days.
This level of efficiency in ten days?
He had to have it. Even if it meant snatching their place.
“Where’s Rebun right now?”
“It’s a star! A star!”
“Well done. You’re a little late, though.”
“Aww, ten days is pretty good. Hehe.”
It had been ten days since the heroes began learning the mana circulation method. To me the span felt like the blink of an eye; to the heroes it had been a somewhat lengthy stretch of training. At the end of it, the first star was born.
And the name of that hero was…
“Haring!”
“Ack—!”
“…would have been nice, but…”
Haring shook her head with a miserable little sob and stepped back. From behind her, another girl peeked out.
“Hehehe… Thank you so much!”
It was Nya-nya.
She stood proudly with a wooden staff in hand, and near her heart a single star was orbiting. A star of mana circling the heart the way a planet circles the sun—a mana core. From now on Nya-nya would be able to hold far more mana in her body, and both the efficiency and cast speed of her magic would climb steeply.
Still a long way to go, of course.
“I can finally call you a mage.”
“I wasn’t a mage before?”
“You weren’t.”
What kind of mage doesn’t even have a mana core? That isn’t a mage, and it isn’t even a mage’s apprentice. Just someone who hopes to use magic someday.
Even in the middle of all this, Hidni—still diligently circulating—muttered under her breath.
“Is it like a ‘rested mage’ or something…?”
“?”
“N-nothing.”
“It’s only one star, so you’re still roughly the same as before. More importantly, Nya-nya.”
“Yes!”
“Come here.”
I made the girl who had scampered over bow her head, then patted her hair.
Pat, pat.
Nya-nya wore a blissful expression under the headpats. Haring and Yonggi watched her with naked envy.
“You did well.”
“Thank you for the praise!”
“Since you succeeded first… mm, I’ll give you a one-time use ticket too.”
“Really?!”
“Yeah.”
One ticket was fine to spare.
Nya-nya clenched her fists in pure joy. Haring approached with a deadly serious face and asked whether only the first success got one. I told her yes.
I’m not handing them out to everyone.
I’m no charity dragon, and those are the treasures I worked hard to collect.
At that, Haring began to wail as if the sky had fallen. After sobbing for a long while she wiped her tears, walked up to Nya-nya, and offered some very earnest advice. I had no idea what she said, but Nya-nya went into the treasure warehouse and came back carrying a bluish staff.
“Nice choice.”
It was still a bit much for her, though.
Five days after Nya-nya obtained the staff. At the mouth of the nest.
“Hey.”
“?”
“Are you the girl who got the mana core?”
A stranger in a skull mask had appeared in front of Nya-nya.