Vortex (10)

Jerry fired a bullet of flame, shooting down his opponent's magic. Latin's eyebrows twitched. Jerry's skill far exceeded his expectations. A bracelet of flame formed around Jerry's wrist, soon transforming into a ring that became a high-speed projectile. It was an incredibly systematic form of magic. He had clearly been trained by a capable teacher. Mages who picked up magic on the streets could never construct something like this.

Latin waved his hand, breathing life into the flames. Birds of fire beat their wings, and a curtain of flame swirled along their trajectories. The curtain and the bullets collided, triggering light explosions. Judging by the power alone, it was fourth-circle magic. Latin asked calmly, "Who taught you?"

"Whoever my master is, it has nothing to do with you or me."

"You seem reluctant to say your master's name."

"Even if I named them, my master wouldn't appear here, would they?"

At Jerry's uncooperative attitude, Latin adjusted his glasses with a finger. Well, it didn't matter. The teacher of some mediocre talent wasn't information worth knowing anyway.

Every time Latin waved his hand, creatures of flame were born. Snakes of fire slithered across the ground. Birds of fire soared through the sky, and dogs of fire raced through the library. Under the intense pressure, Jerry shot a bullet of flame at his own legs. Flames wrapped around his feet, becoming shoes, and Jerry kicked off the ground. He widened the distance in an instant, shooting down every flame creature before aiming at Latin. The bracelet of flame turned into a ring. Immediately after, countless spells tore through the air.

Kwaaaang—

The library shook from the elemental bombardment. Jerry, who had retreated, furrowed his brow. Mages from other enemy towers had joined the battle. Jerry slowly opened his mouth. "You lack confidence in a one-on-one?"

"Are you interested in chivalry? Then you chose the wrong profession."

As the number of enemies grew, Jerry lamented inwardly. How did things end up like this? Where did it all go wrong?

"There." Latin raised his hand and continued quietly. "From the very beginning, you and I are on different levels."

Flames flowing from Latin's hand took shape. It resembled a human. The color of the flames changed. The face turned flesh-colored, the hair brown, the clothes red. A flame clone identical to Latin raised its hand. Creatures of flame were born from the clone's hand. At that miraculous sight, Jerry bit down hard on his lips.

Unique magic. He had suspected it from the fact that Latin was the leader of the dungeon expedition, but as expected, Latin was a fifth-circle mage. Latin spoke. "You've somehow reached the fourth circle, but from the fifth circle onward, it's the domain of talent. You'll never reach it even if you spend your entire life trying."

The number of flame clones increased. Jerry quickly fired magic at them, but Latin reacted faster. The clones simultaneously released birds of flame. Faced with magic that completely filled his frontal view, Jerry kicked off the ground with force. And then he was caught in a storm of flames and rolled across the floor.

Cough.

Jerry coughed while sprawled on the ground. He had shot a bullet at his body at the last moment to create armor, but it wasn't enough to fully block unique magic. In his hazy mind, Jerry thought, Really. How did things end up like this? This lament wasn't about his current state of rolling on the ground. It was something more fundamental. A more essential question.

Jerry recalled when he was around ten years old.

"You're quite an arrogant brat for someone from the slums."

Those were the first words Adelian Croft had said upon meeting Jerry. At the time, Jerry had been a typical slum child who picked pockets, but the next words changed his life completely.

"Want to be my disciple?"

"Who are you?"

"Me? Well, I am..."

Adelian had paused briefly before continuing, and those words were etched into Jerry's lifelong memory.

"Adelian Croft. The master who will make you into an archmage."

Adelian Croft was an extremely strange person. More people would agree with that statement than disagree. After all, it wasn't common for an eighth-circle archmage to be so obsessed with raising disciples that she picked up anyone and made them her student. Even so, Jerry respected Adelian. Because she was that kind of person, a child from the slums with nothing could become a mage.

"She takes in anyone as a disciple. I don't understand that. I've never taken in just anyone as a disciple."

One day, while rolling Jerry around in the forest, Adelian had said that. Sweaty and exhausted, Jerry watched as Adelian waved a branch around like a conductor and spoke.

"I only take disciples who overflow with potential. They can't see their own potential because they're stuck in a knothole, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠yet they spout nonsense about me taking in anyone. Tsk tsk."

"Then do I overflow with potential?"

"Disciple. What do I tell you every day?"

"'Every mage possesses their own unique magic. All I'm teaching you is how to bring that magic to bloom.'"

"And why do I say that? Obviously because I want you to create your own unique magic."

"Unique magic."

Unique magic. The mark of a high-ranking mage, magic imbued with a mage's entire life. Magic that belonged to no one else, only to oneself. Jerry had wanted that too.

"No, Jerry. That's not it."

"What isn't?"

"You pretended to understand my words but didn't understand anything at all. The keyword that runs through you isn't obedience."

"Are you saying I'm a rebel?"

"Your worldview only has black and white. Broaden your perspective, Jerry."

Adelian often said things that were hard to understand. Whenever Jerry asked for the meaning, Adelian would reply, "I already explained it plainly. The moment you ask for the meaning, you've already failed, Jerry. Just wait quietly and realize it later with an 'Ah, so that's what it was!' "

Adelian's education continued for several years like that. Everything has an end. Adelian's education was no exception. When it was time to part, Adelian smiled and advised him.

"Jerry. Deny me and walk your own path. Just forget that you were ever my disciple."

"That doesn't make sense. How could I forget my master?"

"Jerry. I've said it many times, but an arrogant child like you serving someone doesn't make sense to begin with. The moment someone stands above you, your path is already blocked."

At those cryptic words, Jerry furrowed his brow. Adelian patted Jerry's head.

"Well, you do like getting beaten up by women, so my words might not be entirely correct."

"That's really nonsense."

When Jerry recoiled in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shock, Adelian tapped his head and finished speaking.

"Considering your tastes, yes. You're one of two types."

Either soar to the sky without anyone's interference. Or have someone press you to the extreme, endlessly refined and compressed.

Thud.

The sound of Latin's footsteps could be heard. Tracking Latin's presence only with his ears, Jerry thought. Since when? Since when had he stopped mentioning his master's name?

Jerry still respected Adelian. He would do anything for Adelian. However, even so, Jerry didn't want to follow Adelian's life. He had realized this only very recently. Why? Why had he come to that realization?

Jerry recalled the mad mage and let out a hollow laugh. To think this is the answer I arrived at. I've gone quite mad myself.

Ruina didn't care about others' gazes. That was different from having no interest. She did have interest. She knew everything. She knew everything about what others were thinking. Yet she didn't care. Because in her world, only magic existed.

At first, Jerry had followed Ruina around because of blackmail. But as they spent more time together, Jerry found himself drawn in. He was captivated by that firm standard, that unwavering conviction. Yes. The kind of mage Jerry wanted to become wasn't Adelian. He respected Adelian, but the mage he wanted to become was someone else.

Ruina. He wanted to become a mage like that.

Jerry. Since when?

That was... from the moment he was born. From the moment he was born with an arrogant personality, it had always been that way.

Ah, I see.

Jerry stood up and shook his head. Master really. You could have explained it a bit more kindly.

"What?"

Ignoring Latin's bewilderment, Jerry raised his hand. And he murmured, "Checkmate."

The characteristic of flame that Jerry had realized was 'suppression.' Flame suppressed everything. He had discovered that trait. From there, he developed it until he reached the conclusion that flame 'controlled' everything, but only now did he truly understand. What flame did wasn't 'control.' It was simply enforcing the conviction he desired.

The bracelet of flame turned into a ring, and Jerry's will dwelled within it. An image formed in his mind. A single flame, an image that pierced through everything.

Unique magic Enforce. Its effect was to grant the magic whatever effect he desired. It was simple, yet because of that, it was powerful magic.

Having destroyed all the clones with a single bullet of flame, Jerry spoke in a calm tone. "I can leave now, right?"

"Wait—." Barzet waved his hands in the air in panic, but that couldn't stop the man's—Toltpier's—prank. All the artifacts except the ones Ruina and Barzet had obtained were enveloped in light. Then they shot up into the sky through the hole in the ceiling.

Barzet let out a hollow laugh. Hans did the same. Rather than feeling hollow, I found it amusing. A person filled with romance to the very end. This Peter Pan syndrome of his. Well, I had obtained the Holy Grail, so I could tolerate this kind of prank. Even I had played plenty of pranks when I was young. Of course, mine weren't really pranks but all done in earnest, with people around me getting caught up in them, but from their perspective, it probably didn't feel that way. The teacher whose leg broke after stepping on my crystal ball, the head nun who worried when I ran away from the orphanage saying I would find the Jirisan Taoist. And—.

I stopped mid-thought. ...... ......?

When I recalled the past, I thought of my previous life. This wasn't a concept that my current life was fake and my previous life was real. I felt that both lives were real, and if anything, the current life where I learned magic was more precious. However, even so. Even so, I didn't particularly recall the past of my current life. Why? Because there was nothing to recall.

...Huh?

"Ruina. Still, it's fortunate you got what you wanted. If things had gone wrong—."

"Lycel. I have a question."

"Huh? Why?"

"There was something my father said when I was born. Do you know what it was?"

"What was it?"

"He called out a person's name."

"Ah, did he call your name, Ruina?"

"He called out Rachel."

The moment I was born, my biological father had called out Rachel, my biological mother's name. It was to curse my biological mother for giving birth to another girl. There had been an older brother who left home a few years before I did. He used to carry me around on his back. He had liked me quite a lot since I was young. Strangely enough. In my previous life, that is. Well, of course he left first. The orphanage required independence once you became an adult.

The tangled threads in my mind returned to normal. It felt as if someone had unraveled the knotted string, bringing even a sense of pleasure. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I asked slowly, "Excluding my father, there has never been a man in my family. Who exactly are you?"

At that question, my older brother, Lycel—no, someone whose identity was unknown—curled his lips upward.

"This is why I like distortion magic. It's easy to blend in with people. Thanks to that, all the conditions were met long ago."

Shwaaak!

Barzet and Hans's heads fell to the ground. In the chamber where a rain of blood fell, Lycel extended his hand.

"That magic is too much for you to use. Hand it over."

At the same time, something was pulled out from my body. The thing that was pulled out took shape, and Lycel, holding Balance in his hand, grinned so widely his lips seemed to tear. With a face filled with greed. Like a child who had obtained everything.