Chapter 10
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Tracking Request (2)
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Facing the spirited white-haired grandfather, I unwittingly tilted my head.
"Do you know me?"
Just moments ago, his gaze had pierced right through me, sharp enough to read my every thought.
But now, it was oddly averted. Like he was awkwardly dodging my eyes.
"...Didn't you tell me yourself? Oz Eldis. That's my granddaughter's name."
"Before you say that name, I'm pretty sure..."
"Ahem."
Before I could finish, he cut me off with a short cough, changing the subject.
What was this? Why pretend not to know...
"Anyway, aren't you a graduate student? ...Raistel."
His gaze shifted in an instant. As if he'd lost all interest in me, he glared at Raistel.
And that look in his eyes—it was even scarier than before.
He wasn't emitting mana or anything, and it didn't feel like he was forcing intimidation, but it was still chillingly murderous.
"I trusted you when you boasted so confidently... and all you bring me is a graduate student? Do you even know what operation we're running here?"
"...Commander, that's..."
Raistel had boasted to me too.
That he'd handle everything.
But now he couldn't even get a proper word out, just glancing around nervously.
In a way, I was in the same boat—betrayed after trusting him—but oddly, I felt sorry for him first.
Anyone facing that glare would struggle to speak.
And yet, this was his aide... a Senior Knight... cowed like that.
This was military dysfunction for you.
I slipped into the conversation.
"But how did you know I'm a graduate student? It's been a while since I dropped out."
"It's written all over your face."
"...Is it? Did someone doodle on me or something?"
He definitely knew me. The question was how—and from where.
Did Oz Eldis tell him?
Possible, but unlikely.
The most probable culprit... the Communication Orb.
There was a purple one right next to his nameplate.
He didn't seem inclined to explain, so I let it slide.
"You... Are you joking right now?"
Something in my words must have irked him.
That terrifying glare he'd fixed on Raistel now turned fully on me.
"Do you know what this is about?"
"Yes. I know."
"Then you know why I don't trust you."
I got it.
But I didn't bother answering aloud.
Instead, I quietly reached out and pointed at the desk.
Next to the commander's nameplate. A single purple-glowing orb.
"Are you using that quite usefully?"
"The Communication Orb? Are you saying you made it?"
As expected. He already knew.
That must be why I felt so familiar to him. Though claiming it was through Oz wouldn't hold up—she didn't even know I'd gone to grad school.
But that wasn't what I really wanted to ask.
"And next to it... mind opening that drawer?"
"...What?"
The commander's eyebrows slowly furrowed. His face hardened like he'd stared down a medusa.
Raistel gaped at me blankly, as if to say, Are you insane?
...Did I give the order too casually?
But I didn't care. I wasn't court-martialing him or anything—just asking him to open one drawer.
Their reaction made it seem like blasphemy.
I was here on a request anyway, and he was suspicious, so proving my skills upfront was the quickest way.
No reason for me to hesitate.
"I couldn't open it even if I tried, right?"
"Of course not... You... just to say that..."
"Yes, it only responds to your Unique Mana Pattern, so it won't open. I made that."
Unique Mana Pattern recognition. This world's equivalent of a fingerprint.
A small, round wax-like plate. Not very big. Just enough to touch with one mana-conducting finger.
Attach it to any object you want, and only the user's own mana can unlock it.
Talk about maximum convenience.
On the drawer handle I'd pointed to was a faint silver-shimmering wax disc.
Now that I looked closer, it was the latest version.
The newest model incorporated Professor Palrez's advanced long-term mana preservation tech for better durability.
I'd developed that preservation tech alongside him.
Not permanent, but the user could recharge it themselves when the mana ran low.
Of course, it wasn't widespread yet. Commoners needed help from magic institutions, and we couldn't build those just for this.
If you're pushing mass-produced artifacts, they need to be user-friendly for everyone.
I knew Professor Palrez was swamped with that lately.
We'd been in touch right up until recently.
When I ditched grad school, I'd said I was going on a trip and left a letter.
That sparked it all.
I never submitted my thesis on Unique Mana Pattern recognition, but I turned it into a product instead—and here we were.
"Handy, right? No one can touch your stuff. And no one can mimic your Unique Mana Pattern."
"..."
"So, the fallen 7th Circle mage's pattern. Let me take a look."
The commander didn't glare murderously.
He'd gritted his teeth midway, but the moment I mentioned the Unique Mana Pattern, he turned serious.
"I won't be staying long. I'll analyze the pattern, hand over the intel, and go."
"I've heard geniuses are eccentric... but this is the first time I've felt it so viscerally."
"Why? Did some wastrel genius cause trouble?"
"..."
Raistel, walking out of the commander's office with me, suddenly stopped and stared.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"How many people do you think talk to the commander like you just did?"
"Oh, that. He just felt like a friend's grandpa."
"Friend...? You mean Oz?"
Ah.
Wrong choice of words.
Were Raistel and Oz close?
Truth be told, not quite friends.
I'd just blurted it out with nothing better to say.
Oz might explode if she heard...
"Even so... you know he's a 7th Circle mage, right?"
"Only an idiot wouldn't notice that aura. Honestly, I wondered if he was even higher."
"You said you didn't know much about Transcendents, and you meant it."
"Eh. No reason to run into one in this lifetime anyway."
"Fair point."
I cautiously asked Raistel, who nodded along readily.
"Are you... close with Oz...?"
"Not really. Just saw her a few times as a kid."
"Phew..."
"...?"
Raistel took me straight to the scene.
The house where the mage in question, Vinsen, had stayed until recently.
A classic mage's mansion, complete with a basement lab.
Full of his traces.
But since he'd been gone a while, they'd all be old remnants now.
"Can you track where Vinsen's headed using his Unique Mana Pattern?"
"Hm... I'd need to analyze the traces first."
"Good. I've told the others to let you investigate freely, so look around as you please."
I nodded and stepped into the house guarded by knights.
First order of business was clear.
Find the item with the strongest lingering trace of Vinsen's mana.
Those were usually in the lab.
I headed straight down the stairs to the basement.
The lab was a total mess. Bookshelves tilted and collapsed on one side, experiment tools shattered and scattered everywhere.
...The quintessential mad mage's lab.
I carefully checked near the desk and spotted an item thick with concentrated mana.
A cracked, crumpled piece of metal.
Part of his staff? Couldn't tell if it was broken or destroyed, but the mana residue was unmistakable.
I pulled an artifact from my pocket.
A thin silver plate etched with mana circuits—an analyzer.
Fundamentally, a Unique Mana Pattern recognizer.
But more advanced.
My pattern recognition tech had evolved far beyond market standards.
It didn't just recognize—it analyzed multiple data points.
Even old traces could be extracted if not too faded.
If I'd stuck to manaphones, this level wouldn't be possible. No need for such advanced fingerprints on a phone.
Why did only these niche techs leap ahead?
To the point where... I hadn't told anyone, but I could even forge patterns.
Hide my mana and mimic someone else's. Untested in real combat, though.
I held the artifact to the metal shard and infused a bit of mana. It hummed lowly.
A blue light rippled across the surface, forming a glyph.
Three circles of varying sizes intersecting, converging toward the center.
Vinsen's Unique Mana Pattern.
The instant I saw it, classification systems flooded my mind.
Developing this taught me something: patterns aren't truly 'unique.' They follow frames based on traits and attributes, varying slightly within.
For example, my ice attribute always centers on a diamond-shaped glyph.
Another trait of mine: phase transformation. Altering matter's state or properties—a rare lineage. Its pattern frames straight, rigid lines.
So mine's lines piercing a diamond frame. Number of diamonds, angles, lengths, arrangements vary per person.
And this circle glyph... unique to fire-affinity users.
'Curves from intersections signal diffusion. Heat diffusion...'
He must've wielded some seriously destructive spells.
'Ah, so that's how he made bank with mercenaries.'
Now that I had his pattern, next was collecting every trace he'd left. Like lifting fingerprints from a crime scene.
'Aggregate and analyze, and I can dimly guess what he did—or planned to do.'