Chapter 40
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Spirit (5)
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I poked the spirit fluttering atop my hand, causing it to fall. It drifted slowly through the air like a dandelion seed.
I lay down in the grass, gazing up at the sky.
Mana had been depleting more frequently as I made my way through the forest.
If I hadn't been leaning on my staff, I probably would have collapsed long ago.
The mana consumption was unusually rapid.
A Milky Way stretched across the sky.
The chirping of grasshoppers from the forest laid down a soft background melody.
And beneath it all, there I was.
Savoring the prickly feel of the grass and the slight dampness of the moist soil.
The thought that Medea might touch me didn't even cross my mind.
Slave brands were always imprinted to prioritize the master's well-being above all else.
Even so, just in case, I kept my senses focused on Medea even with my eyes closed.
And sure enough, she tried sending a spirit my way.
But she couldn't control it at all, and it scattered.
She probably couldn't handle spirits as well as I could right now.
Not just because my body was inherently special.
[That lowborn bastard really takes the cake.]
"What do you mean by that?"
Only after confirming that Medea was leaning against a nearby tree, practicing her spirit arts, did I slowly open my mouth to speak.
Arxius grumbled at me in a tone full of disbelief.
[Mana user, knows magic, can even wield dragon mana. And you don't need spirit arts on top of that?]
"Even dragon mana requires sacrificing your lifespan, doesn't it?"
[Are you joking?]
"No..."
[Say it's a joke. If you're serious, I'll really kill you.]
"Of course it's a joke."
Arxius let out a sigh. He grumbled endlessly about how a guy like me could have ever been born.
Spirit arts aren't needed, he said.
I extended my hand. Spirits flocked to it once more, without regard for attributes.
They kept clinging to my body as if there was something edible on me.
'What the hell are they even eating?'
They were nibbling at something on my body.
Gobbling it up as if it were some rare delicacy.
"They're eating mana?"
I've never seen it before either, but elves normally use mana in their spirit arts. Maybe you're consuming mana directly instead of using it for spirit arts?]
Is that how it works?
I spread my palm and circulated my mana.
Then, visualizing it, I manifested a ball about the size of a tennis ball.
I tossed the ball beyond the grass, and the spirits rushed toward it greedily.
Arxius's guess seemed correct.
"Hmm... what do I do about this?"
[What do you mean, what do you do?]
"There's just so much to learn. Spirits are appealing, magic is convenient. And I need to raise my mana to advanced level too."
[You really live the most unfair life. Don't you dare complain about bad luck anywhere.]
Ignoring Arxius's words, I stretched my arms upward and spread my fingers.
They say you can't cover the sky with your hands. Stars twinkled between my fingers.
Just like that, for a moment. I gazed up at the night sky.
The rustle of weeds brushed by the wind mixed with the grasshoppers' chirps from the still lake that occasionally rippled.
It was a beautiful sight.
I admired the scenery for a while.
I could see it on Earth too, but this was my first time seeing it in person.
A strange feeling washed over me.
I slowly sat up.
I couldn't get too lost in sentiment. The academy had a curfew.
Medea was still practicing her spirit arts. This place really suited her.
'I should let her come here often.'
A slave couldn't have free will.
Meaning she couldn't come to this forest without my permission.
I called out to her.
Medea approached me obediently.
With spirits clinging all over her body, it seemed her spirit arts had improved in the meantime.
Still lacking, but there was room for growth.
Two days passed.
With the exam approaching, everyone—regardless of Class A or B—was buried in their studies.
Everyone except me.
I wasn't particularly interested in grades.
The lessons here were at best middle to high school level anyway.
As long as I didn't fail and get expelled, it was fine.
And even after a long study break, I could manage that much.
"Class dismissed here. You all know the exam is next Monday, so prepare well."
The old professor scurried out, using honorifics.
Nicknamed Sleeping Pill for teaching the unpopular subject 'Imperial History'.
Only after confirming Erwin Steinberger had left the classroom did I stand up.
Today was the day to join the lounge club for those at leisure, as Crena had mentioned.
Even after she left, a first-year Class A student approached me and told me the designated time.
So there was someone else in first year for the same club.
Name was... Creviton, I think?
Since I'd never heard the name before, he was definitely an extra.
He looked utterly drained somehow, enough to sap the energy from anyone watching.
For a moment, I wondered if he had curse powers.
But judging by the sword always at his waist, he was a swordsman.
On the way to the club, the magic department entrance was still wide open.
The gates of hell, welcoming anyone to enter.
I deliberately turned my gaze the opposite way to avoid stepping inside by mistake.
"Urk!"
But from the hellish threshold, a white-gloved hand shot out.
A familiar voice. And the spiky blue hair poking out.
Sophia, who would become a great mage in the future but was currently Professor Ludwig's slave, was turning into a zombie right before my eyes.
She looked up at me and reached out desperately for help.
I stared at her hand for a moment before cautiously grasping it.
Her face lit up as if bathed in sunlight.
But it was quickly sucked back into the darkness.
The moment I saw the two pairs of gleaming eyes beyond the hellgate, I let go of Sophia's hand.
"N-No! Please! Let me out!"
"Research, achievements, papers... we are trash...."
How horrifying.
I clasped my hands and muttered a prayer.
"May the deceased rest in peace...."
"Deron!!!! I'll get revenge for sure!"
I ignored what sounded like a voice from the grave.
The dead don't speak, after all.
Passing the creepy hellgate, my club finally came into view.
An ordinary entrance, but the inside was full of unknowns.
A tale beyond the novel, never described in the original.
I swallowed hard and stepped through.
"Two real newbies actually showed up?"
"Yeah, one's over there. The other hasn't arrived yet."
Second-year Class B.
Iridun Nofiltane stroked his goatee in surprise.
His goatee was always just the right length. Perfect for fiddling with.
"Wasn't the club just maintaining the minimum five members? With the senior graduating, that makes six."
"That was the plan."
Idrian answered Iridun's question.
"I was only going to take Creviton. As you all know, he was the one I had in mind."
Everyone nodded.
It was common knowledge among the club members that Crown Prince Idrian would invite the first-year he was most interested in.
Just look at Iridun or Crena—they were both invited by Idrian.
In truth, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say the club was sustained by Idrian.
"But then someone who heard rumors about our club came looking?"
Iridun and Creviton—excluding Crena and Bell—widened their eyes.
Even Creviton, who had just joined recently, had heard enough about the club to have a vague idea of what it was.
'A club you can't enter through normal means.'
Not that it blocked anyone.
In fact, curious students occasionally wandered in.
And among those students, the number who actually joined the club?
'Zero.'
It was a peculiar place.
Everyone at Iliad Academy had entered to grow.
Talented students came to hone their experience and skills.
But this club was the opposite.
It encouraged relaxation.
If not for the occasional regular meetings, most members just lounged here.
Even the president.
Crown Prince Idrian was always dozing on a sunlit sofa.
Skipping classes to stay here was almost admirable.
'And they still chose to join after hearing that?'
Iridun grew curious about the incoming newbie.
And then.
Creeeak.
The sound of the door opening.
All eyes in the room turned that way.
A tall man entered slowly, his shoes clicking on the bright hallway floor.
Beneath gray hair, pitch-black eyes gleamed.
Staff in hand, he carefully opened the door and stepped in.
The first-year with the most controversy and rumors.
Deron Phillasia.
Upon entering, he surveyed the room, exuding his innate dignified aura.
In the subtle atmosphere, Deron spoke.
"Hello."
As ordinary a greeting as his entrance was extraordinary.