The Rule of the Flame
I bought soft white bread from the bakery. In Sad Mid-land, high-quality flour was expensive and hard to come by. That was why the common folk there baked with cheaper grains like rye, barley, and oats, resulting in hard, dark loaves. But Happy Mid-land was a world of magic. Flour was cheap. Salt and pepper were cheap. Everyone could happily eat white bread. Of course, only certain aspects had advanced while everything else remained the same, but that was more than enough. Eating nothing but rock-hard bread would drive anyone into depression. Once that single problem was solved, most issues were resolved along with it.
I walked down the street, the lantern in my hand swaying with its round flame inside. “It’s the Guide.” “The Pathfinder.” Children whispered from a distance. Those were my nicknames. There was an old legend in this world about a goddess who carried a lantern to guide adventurers. After years of walking around with one myself, the name had stuck.
“You talk to her.” “No, you do it.” The children pushed and shoved one another. Among them was the blond boy who led their little gang. What was his name again? Zed, I think. His father had once been a squire, so he’d apparently learned proper swordsmanship and magic. I’d never spoken to Zed, but my information-gathering ability made that irrelevant. The market wives never stopped chattering, after all. I couldn’t help overhearing.
Even after three years and several months in this village, I still hadn’t formed any close bonds with anyone except Kelton. Part of it was because I stayed holed up indoors, but I also had no real desire to get close to people. I even pulled my robe low over my face to avoid recognition, so how was I supposed to make friends? I was still too young to live independently, so it was better to stay hidden until my parents gave up looking. If they did find me, I could always reveal that I’d become a mage’s disciple and they’d back off quietly, but I didn’t want to cause trouble for Kelton. This was just self-preservation.
Leaving the hesitant children behind, I headed home. The lantern swayed and clinked. The round flame inside—the one I had conjured—illuminated the world without the slightest flicker. For the past two years, I had lit that lantern every single day. When I had mana left, I used magic. When my mana was low, I used oil. Without fail. Without rest. Then one day, I suddenly realized my actions had become a rule. Waking up in the morning, picking up the lantern, and lighting it with magic felt like following a law.
Yes. All fairness was completed by obeying rules. That was how I reached the 2nd rank. Once I did, my magic changed. Now, when I activated magic inside the lantern, it consumed far less mana than before. My repeated actions had created a “rule.” It was still limited to the small flame in the lantern, but if I repeated other actions, new rules would form. There was plenty of room for application.
“You really do carry that lantern around like it’s part of your body.” “It practically is, at this point.” “No wonder your magic developed in that direction, carrying it all the time.” “But it did develop, didn’t it?”
Kelton, seated in the yard’s rocking chair, let out a hearty laugh at my words and tapped his pipe to extinguish it. “Didn’t you say we were doing practical training today?” “Just a moment, please.”
I went into the kitchen and prepared lunch. I sliced the bread, spread raspberry jam on it, then layered ham, cheese, lettuce, and tomato before topping it with another slice. Repeating the process produced several sandwiches. After bottling some herbal tea, I packed everything neatly into a basket and stepped outside. “Let’s go.”
Kelton and I headed for the forest near the village. The May weather was beautifully clear—perfect for a picnic. “I’ve told you this many times, but we’re not here for a picnic.” “I said the weather was good for one. I didn’t say we were having one.”
The forest near the village was dense with trees. Even in broad daylight, little light reached the ground, leaving it dim and gloomy. We had only walked a short way when a strange growl echoed through the trees. Something burst out from behind a trunk. Child-sized, green-skinned. A goblin.
“Just one. Go ahead.” At Kelton’s words, I opened the lantern and activated my magic. Whoosh. A round flame formed inside. At the same time, it shot forward like a bullet. Kieeeek! The goblin clutched its head and rolled on the ground. I fired several more flame bullets in quick succession and finished it off. From the 2nd rank onward, it became possible to launch elements from a distance. That was why practical combat magic was generally usable starting at this rank.
“Was that perfect?” “The power’s still lacking.” “I developed toward efficiency, just like you, Kelton.” “Avoid fighting monsters alone until you reach the 3rd rank.” I nodded and asked, “Are we done for today?”
The only monsters in the forest near the village were goblins. They were small and weak—monsters even a child could kill with a weapon. Occasionally, a goblin shaman appeared, but those only showed up in large goblin settlements. We wouldn’t see any in a rural village like this. That was precisely why the village had been built here in the first place.
“No.” Kelton gave a short reply and raised his hand. Then—growls. From the distance, a group of goblins appeared. Goblins were indeed small and weak as low-tier monsters, but there was a reason they were still monsters. They lived in groups. Even the smallest settlement housed at least ten. They weren’t the kind of monster an ordinary person could charge at without thinking. In other words, they were no concern at all to a mage who wasn’t ordinary.
Kelton’s eyes stared at the goblins with cold indifference. There were nine ranks of mages in total, but the lower ranks—commonly called ordinary mages—consisted of four tiers. 1st rank: Seeing mages. Those who had discovered elements; essentially the starting point of being a mage. 2nd rank: Handling mages. Those who had begun to manipulate elements; this was when they started resembling what ordinary people imagined mages to be. 3rd rank: Connecting mages. Those who had begun to comprehend elements; reaching this rank alone guaranteed a comfortable life. Finally, 4th rank: Assimilating mages. Those whose understanding and mastery of elements had reached the level of assimilation. This was the last stage reachable through effort alone, one step away from the higher ranks.
The gap between ordinary people and mages was vast, yet even a skilled non-mage might kill someone up to the 3rd rank with luck. The 4th rank was different. Even if caught off guard, a 4th-rank mage was too complete for a non-mage to challenge. And that 4th rank was Kelton’s level.
“I offer this as tribute.” As Kelton murmured, his released mana transformed into salt flames and engulfed the goblins. They turned to ash without even screaming. I clapped. “As expected of you, Kelton. To a 4th-rank mage, goblins are just lunch-sandwich level, huh?” “Yeah, yeah. Since you went to the trouble of making them, let’s eat outside today.” “As expected of you, Kelton.”
We left the forest and headed for a nearby field. I spread out the cloth I’d brought and set the basket on it. Taking out a sandwich, I handed it to Kelton, then took a bite of my own. Sweet jam, fresh lettuce and tomato, and savory ham mingled in my mouth. “It’s delicious.” “Your cooking really is exceptional.” “Does that mean everything else about me isn’t?” “You lose to me at Arcana Chess every time.” “I manage a draw sometimes now.”
A breeze blew. The grass in the field swayed under the wind, like waves rolling across the land. I stared blankly at the field. “I’m glad we came out for a picnic.” “So you are calling it a picnic.” “The weather’s nice.” The sunlight was just right. I stretched lazily. Kelton put his pipe in his mouth and said, “You’re similar to my master in some ways.” “In what way?” “You like basking in the sun.”
Kelton gazed into the distance as he drew on his pipe. He always wore that expression when speaking of his master. Hoo. Exhaling a long stream of smoke, he continued slowly. “And you both like sweet things.” “Was the jam too sweet?” “You used too much sugar.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” I mentally revised several recipes I’d memorized.
Come to think of it… “You must have spent quite a long time with your master, Kelton.” “About three years. Why the sudden interest?” “You never really talk about her. Is there a reason?” “There just aren’t any stories impressive enough to bother mentioning.”
I’d been with Kelton for quite a while now, but I’d heard very little about his master. All I knew was that she was an 8th-rank archmage. After three years, that was basically all there was. “Even if it’s not impressive, I still want to hear.” After all, she was an 8th-rank archmage at the pinnacle of humanity. There was no harm in listening to anecdotes.
At my words, Kelton pondered for a moment, then tapped out his pipe and opened his mouth. “There was an incident where the second son of some baron tried to court her without realizing who she was.” “You’ve been hiding such an entertaining story this whole time? Tell me right now.”
*
Time flowed like running water. Five years had passed since I met Kelton. I was finally fifteen—considered an adult in this world. And I was still at the 2nd rank. Nothing much had changed from two years ago.