The Magic Community
I had a nagging feeling that I’d been slacking too much on teaching Airi lately. My job wasn’t to play host. I was supposed to be her teacher. It was about time we moved on to the advanced stages of spirit-based magic and started building some proper real-world combat experience. Besides, magic was one of the core systems in Dragnity Fantasy 2, so I had to teach it properly.
To do that, I first needed to buy some textbooks. I poured mana into my personal crystal orb and connected to the Akashic Magician Record—the community hub favored by mages across the empire.
The Akashic Magician Record was essentially a forum where wizards gathered. It handled everything from trading magic tools and grimoires to career advice for young mages and deep, scholarly debates on magical theory.
A prompt appeared asking for my ID and password. Of course Werner had an account, but the setting book hadn’t bothered to include the login details. I’d been forced to make my own.
ID: whitesnake204
Password: rip200
White Snake Wizard
After logging in, I began browsing the community. Hadn’t I once described this place as a respectable forum for trading artifacts, career counseling, and serious magical discourse?
Well, those kinds of posts did exist. But let me ask you one question.
First of all, mages are the type who love locking themselves in labs to research and hate going outside. Their social skills tend to be abysmal from spending so much time alone. Because they stay cooped up, they rarely talk to others. And while some master every attribute, most pour everything into one specialty and only dabble in the rest. That naturally leads to endless arguments about whose attribute is superior.
Now imagine giving a bunch of socially awkward, indoor-dwelling, conversationally challenged people complete anonymity and a platform full of potential conflict.
What happens?
The correct answer is: artistic levels of bullshit erupt.
The funny thing is, when these guys meet in person they all use polite speech with each other. They say things in this anonymous space that they’d never dare say in real life. It really wasn’t all that different from the internet communities I knew from my previous life.
Anyway, no matter how much these worms wriggled, I had business to take care of.
As was typical in anonymous spaces, no actually useful answers came up. Should I just hold an offline meetup, gather all these worms in one place, and wipe them out? I could slaughter them so thoroughly they’d never open their mouths again.
Just then, a clear ding rang out and a private message arrived. It was from that wonderful friend who wanted to stab me in the gut.
Just from his tone I could tell this guy had no friends in real life. Still, it seemed like there might be some value here, so I replied.
I fell into thought. My residence was a secret. After all, anyone’s home address should be strictly private information, right?
But the “free” part was undeniably tempting. Safety or money—that was the question.
It didn’t take me long to reach a conclusion.
The great adventurer Christopher Columbus once said: “Ah, gold is fucking awesome!!!”
After all, Werner wasn’t just a Grand Archmage. He was also an adventurer. Therefore, it was only natural to follow the wisdom of a great adventurer.
Without hesitation, I sent him my home address.
Let’s be real. What could some low-tier mage who spent all day badmouthing me possibly do if he tried to attack me? Besides, Camellia—who had reached the pinnacle of swordsmanship—lived in my house. With both physical and magical firepower perfectly covered, what was there to worry about in this world?
Soon, a message arrived from the sucker who wanted to stab my gut.
How could someone advertise the fact that they had no friends with every single character they typed? At this point it felt like a talent.
I sent a half-hearted thank-you and withdrew the mana I had poured into the crystal orb.
These damn mages were all insane.
Still, saving money felt great. My finances weren’t exactly tight, but humans are creatures who should live frugally. Greed only brings ruin. Even Columbus eventually fell, didn’t he?
Once the textbook arrived, I could roughly teach Airi magic, then take on requests like subjugating demonic beasts under the pretext of practical training. That way I could earn money easily while letting Airi gain real experience. What a brilliant plan.
This meticulous scheme, this outstanding intellect—who could possibly rival me? I was going to become the most respected, omnipotent, greatest teacher of all!
Right then, Airi knocked on my door.
“I don’t know anyone like that, so please leave.”
Despite my sincere response, Airi apparently took it as a joke. She opened the door and came in anyway.
I didn’t know who that gut-stabbing guy really was, but if he switched careers to food delivery, he’d probably succeed brilliantly.