Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: The Greatest Magic
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But it was more manageable than I'd thought.
What was the most outstanding magic in this fantasy world's arsenal?
A fireball spell that could incinerate a small monster whole?
Or earth magic that barreled along like heavy machinery—indispensable for medieval construction?
Nope.
None of the above.
The real answer was water magic.
'With just a flick of your finger, drinking water appears out of thin air?'
It was so incredible you could just wipe the very notion of a water-scarce nation from your mind.
And on top of that, a mage's mana replenished itself over time.
Keep just one mage by your side, and you could turn bread into water at a 1:1 ratio—or squeeze it for 1:2 if you pushed.
Of course, one mage per household was a pipe dream.
Regular commoners made do with the cheap water magic stones hawked by the mage tower.
But here's another way to look at it.
If you can conjure water, then who's using the groundwater?
Who else? Us—the ones who can't cast spells and can't afford magic stones.
"Alright, here it comes?"
-Splash!
"Grrrrrgh...!"
I dumped a torrent of water on Bern, who was sprawled face-down.
We were deep in the back alleys at an abandoned well.
We'd sweated buckets hauling those apples, so this was cleanup time.
Of course, a full bath in the alleys was a luxury.
Plenty of kids never washed at all.
'But that's gross.'
This filthy hellhole was bad enough—gotta avoid diseases somehow.
Not that I had any exhibitionist streak; outdoors, back-washing was my limit.
"Hm?"
As I shook off the last drips and shrugged into my shirt, I spotted Riel sitting against the wall a short distance away.
Was she embarrassed to see a boy—non-family and all—naked?
Her fingers were clamped over her eyes.
"......"
Something felt off, though.
If she really didn't want to look, she'd have buried her head, right?
Her face was tilted way too high.
A closer peek revealed her blue eyes glinting through the gap in her fingers.
"...Eek!"
Our gazes locked, and she jolted like she'd been shocked.
"...Yeah, figures."
For the sake of Riel's proper sensibilities, I pretended not to notice and threw my clothes on fast.
We were already skin-and-bones from no meat; no way this twiggy frame was "average."
Besides, Riel was the outlier—plenty of back-alley kids roamed shirtless because they had nothing else.
I tugged on the shirt draped nearby, and Bern sidled up.
"Hey, Dane. You hear?"
"Hear what."
"Looks like an orphanage popped up nearby."
"Orphanage?"
Hm. Orphanage.
On the surface, some government welfare spot for the swelling orphan population.
"Suspicious as hell."
"Right?"
Stank of danger.
With monsters as humanity's eternal foes, orphans were inevitable.
No fixing the root issue.
So a brand-new orphanage out of nowhere?
Shady.
A noble cheerfully donating the cash for one, all for social welfare?
Like a hot iced Americano—two things that didn't mix.
Probably a showpiece to polish some royal's image.
Or...
"Kidnapping kids for slaves. Or lab rats."
Step inside, and your life's done.
Dragged to some deep, dark hole. Locked in a cage.
A life of weird injections ahead.
Surrounded by fellow test subjects.
Staring at them, you'd mutter, 'Let's survive this place somehow.'
One dreams of being a teacher outside. Another, an adventurer.
They scrape by, day after grueling day.
Even as comrades vanish one by one, grief-stricken but clinging on—until one day.
The overseer shows up and speaks slowly.
'Now kill each other.'
God, fantasy-world orphanages were terrifying.
"Just in case—stay the hell away."
"You nuts? Think I'd go near?"
Bern's eyes flicked toward Riel.
Her face, specifically.
Riel was pretty cute.
Imagine a kid like that funneled into an orphanage... sold off somewhere.
Nothing good waiting.
Even in the rosiest scenario, shipped as a lab rat and dying quick was the "mercy."
Seriously scary orphanage vibes.
"Hey, Bern. Skip the useless rumor-mongering and plan tonight's dinner menu."
"We're stealing it anyway—why brag? Plus, bits like this turn into cash down the line."
As we bantered and closed in, Riel hopped up and trotted after us.
The second I opened my mouth for our dinner strategy...
"Hey. Who gave you permission to use this spot?"
An unfamiliar voice rang out nearby.
I whipped around toward the sound.
Six boys or so, clutching short wooden clubs, headed our way.
"This is our turf, you idiots."
"On your knees groveling when we're nice."
"Which gang you punks from?"
Yeah, I wondered when they'd show.
Slums always had their bully crews playing turf boss.
Pickpockets hitting this area lately.
Rumors of muggers jumping drunks late-night.
Had to be these guys.
Around my age, some younger.
'Why the hell they so tall?'
We snagged rotten fruit. They scoring rotten meat somewhere?
Built like tanks.
Weight-class thugs.
I signaled Bern behind me quietly.
'Get ready to bolt.'
I called out casually to the swaggering crew.
"Didn't know it was your turf! Sorry. Won't use it again!"
Of course I'd use it tomorrow too.
Turf wars over a well? What were they, desert biker gangs?
Everyone used it on the down-low.
No way they patrolled 24/7.
Should be fine.
"Scram!"
"Show your faces again... you know."
They looked beat from some recent score.
Not too fussed, so I figured it'd end mellow...
"Hold up."
The leader-looking one who'd stayed quiet spoke.
"Leave the girl."
My eyes followed his gaze—straight to Riel.
Crazy bastard. Not even fifteen and already pulling creep shit?
I blocked Bern, who'd lunged forward, and stepped up slow.
"What."
"You wanna go?"
They drew clubs one by one, squaring up.
I watched chill, took a deep breath...
"Fuck off, asshole!!!"
Yelled my lungs out, spun, and bolted like hell.
"Shit! Bern, run! We get nabbed, we're fucked!"
I screamed at them desperately, but...
"What the shit!!"
They were already way ahead, hauling ass.
Distance-wise, they'd bolted the second I inhaled.
Months bunking together—they'd clocked my move.
Happy about it? Kinda betrayed.
"You punk!"
"Got your face memorized!"
"Caught, you'll get beat to death!"
Memorized my face? Whatever.
Thousands of orphans in these alleys.
Wet my hair tomorrow, slick a part—they wouldn't know me.
"Pant... pant...!"
Racing blind through the alleys.
Vaulting shattered crates.
Hopping low walls.
Diving through the odd dog hole, body scrunched.
Alleys stretched long and twisty.
Barring surprises, raw speed wouldn't catch us.
Yeah. Barring surprises.
"Huh?"
Chasing Bern and Riel...
A heap of rags by the path suddenly tumbled down.
A startled kid's face emerged.
"Shit."
Heard our footsteps, woke with a start.
I smashed right into him and went down.
Spinning world: eye contact with sprinting Bern ahead.
'Save me.'
'Sorry.'
'Please.'
Footsteps thundering behind.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
-Crash!
And tumbled across the ground.
Crackle, crackle.
The sound wormed into my ears, and my eyes fluttered open.
The floor's feel was familiar—home sweet home.
I sat up slow.
...Pitch black. Couldn't see shit.
"What, night already?"
Chased by the gang, tumbled a few times.
Stomped by pursuers a bit.
Tripped one, slipped away quick.
Linked with Bern later, scrapped WWE-style, then home—I remembered that much.
"Blackout after."
Probably crashed the second I hit the tarp.
Oh crap—they're waiting.
"Gotta hustle for dinner run... ah."
Bern and Riel said they were good for dinner tonight, right?
Heard something earlier about linking with other kids in the area.
Not tagging along, so didn't pry.
"More bodies, higher bust risk anyway."
Not core crew—mid-join for numbers?
Perfect bait material.
"Hm."
Exhausted from the sprint, debating skipping dinner.
Then I clocked the commotion outside.
Come to think—woke to footsteps?
"Trouble?"
But poking my head out from curiosity?
That was talentless orphan shit.
Curiosity killed the cat, yeah?
Smartest move: dodge the hassle.
"Sigh. Starving tonight it is."
No outing, so I flopped back down.
Dozing off mid-plotting tomorrow's play...
-Flap!
"Wh-what!"
The entrance tarp flew open.
Dirt-camouflaged solid—should've been invisible at night?
"Great hero! Please! Master! Mercy just once! I was just sitting here qui—huh?"
Eyes adjusted: two lumps my size.
Intruders were...
"Pant... pant... Dane..."
"O-oppa..."
"What."
Bern and Riel.
They looked rough, so I yanked them deeper inside and sealed the tarp.
Tight for three, but we crammed.
"Talk."
"Pant...... cough!"
"A-ah..."
Panting dude. Freaked girl.
And a fat sack.
One explainer here.
I shoved the rainwater barrel at gasping Bern.
"Ugh...!"
He chugged, steadied his breath, then spoke.
"...Plan was raiding an abandoned warehouse."
"Warehouse?"
"Yeah. Found one nobody used, stocked with goods. Figured snag a bit on the sly."
Goods, huh.
No merchant stacks their own stash in an ownerless spot.
Black-market deal, probably.
Shady trades in derelict warehouses.
Cliche. The nasty kind.
"Sigh. Kicked the hornet's nest. What was inside? Bodies? Magic artifacts?"
"Nah. Just food staples."
"Food?"
"Yeah. Fruits, veggies, that sort."
Smuggling grub?
What, buyers were horses?
Equine tycoons raging over stolen fortunes?
"Those were military rations."
"Ah."
Medieval armies—what're they like?
Fantasy twist aside, gotta be rabid about looting.
Frontline raids routine.
Skim their supplies?
Foaming pursuit made sense.
No huge loss, but deter repeats with harsh payback.
Adult rat-hunters swarming alleys at night? Checks out.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to drag you in."
"Says the guy who smashed my front door."
"Ugh, seriously sorry."
Bern clutched my hand, bowed deep.
Stood slow.
"Impudent, but please. Till it's over, let Riel crash here."
"You?"
"Too cramped for three. We'll get spotted."
True.
Cram unaware, but now my leg dangled out.
"I'll slip away somehow. Riel's fine—kept her distant as lookout. No face seen."
"O-oppa..."
Bern rose to leave.
Decision time.
Sudden crashers.
Live trouble outside.
Loose ties.
Ominous gut.
Best play?
That was...
"Ah."
Something snagged in my peripheral.
Why now of all times.
"Shit...!"
Back alleys were pure hell.
I snagged Bern's arm mid-exit, yanked him back.
"Huh?"
Shoved him sprawling with Riel deeper in.
Gripped their shoulders.
"Stay put. Back tomorrow morning—saving me some too."
"Dane, you don't have to—"
"Sense say: you gassed or me—who's dodging better? Just stay."
I peeked tarp-side cautious.
No footsteps.
Go time.
"Rent's full price—plan ahead."
"Wait... Dane!"
I bolted out, opposite the noise, full sprint.
Not my usual move.
But why tear-assing now?
"Why snag three damn loaves...!"
That was it. Nothing else.