New Power (2)
After that, Dane kept trying to squeeze even one more gold coin out of Balun, but all his efforts went up in smoke. Balun didn't give him the slightest opening.
How the hell is this guy so thorough about money? Dane wondered. And his instincts are sharp as a knife. I've dealt with plenty of barbarians, but this one's a first.
"Fine, I'll introduce you for free. Consider yourself lucky. Opportunities like this don't come around often. Do you know how many people are dying to connect with me?"
"Speak straight. Not free. Ten gold."
"You need to speak straight. The money you gave me was a gift for a friend. Can't count it as payment for services."
"Person, have shame. Receive gift, return gift. But you, no shame. Money demon."
"Mo-money demon? What's that?"
"Crazy bastard for money."
Look at this guy. Not backing down an inch.
"Ahem, Balun. Isn't that a bit harsh? I'm at least twice your age. Show some respect."
"Wrong. Dane, my friend. Friends no walls. Age no matter."
"……."
Dane was utterly defeated in the verbal sparring. By a brute barbarian, no less. He felt like he'd lose in a physical fight too, and the self-loathing was overwhelming.
"On second thought, your gift was a bit much. Fine, consider it my fee, and I'll make the introduction."
"Not considered. Actually received."
"Ahem, I'll set it up by today, so come back here tomorrow at this time."
Balun returned to the inn. That day, he spent the hours practicing axe techniques in the open yard behind the inn, then went back to find Dane the next day at the same time.
Dane, who was getting ready to head out, welcomed him warmly.
"Right on time."
"Balun keeps promises. You keep yours."
"Of course. Without trust, I'm a corpse. Follow me."
Balun trailed behind the leading Dane. They walked a long way without stopping, so Balun finally asked,
"How far?"
"Pretty far. Still inside Milford, though."
It wasn't "pretty far"—Milford was a proper city. You couldn't stroll from one end to the other like a casual walk in the park. Plus, Milford sat on winding hills. And Dane kept heading upward.
Balun ended up on an unplanned hike. His stamina held up fine, but it was odd.
People live up here?
Balun glanced around. The vibe was eerie. No houses in sight, just a narrow path snaking up the hill.
Why live in a dump like this?
Balun's curiosity spiked. What kind of mages would hole up here? Some nature freaks?
"Great mage, right?"
"Ah, you mean Kalente? Of course. He's one of the Seven Sages. The Gray Sage Kalente himself."
"Seven Sages?"
"You might not know. Just remember he's incredible. Getting his teachings is a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of luck."
Balun stroked his chin. Didn't feel real. A big shot living up here?
"We're here. That house."
A fence topped the hill, enclosing a two-story house, with cramped one-story shacks clustered behind and mist drifting around. Putting it all together…
Haunted house vibes. Just like those ghost hunt videos.
"Kalente! It's Dane."
"Come in."
Dane knocked and called out, and a voice answered immediately from inside. They entered to find an old man in a loose gray robe, with a flowing white beard, rocking in a chair.
Oh, nice atmosphere. Looked legit. Magazine cover material.
"So you're the barbarian Dane mentioned."
"Yes. That's him."
"Hmm."
The Gray Sage Kalente scanned Balun up and down.
"More intriguing than I heard."
"Talk to him, and it'll be even more so."
"Got it. I'll ask the details myself. You can go now."
"Yes. Balun, have a good talk with Kalente. Don't upset him—he's a great man."
After Dane's warning and departure,
"Don't just stand there. Come sit."
At Kalente's gesture, Balun sat without protest in the chair opposite. Kalente poured steaming tea that smelled faintly like green tea—and tasted like it too.
As Balun sipped, Kalente asked,
"To your taste?"
"Yes. Good."
"Surprising. Thought you'd hate it."
"Why?"
"Barbarians hate tea. Say it's for weaklings."
Balun tilted his head. What nonsense was that? Barbarians and tea—what connection?
"Barbarians usually despise tea as a weakling's drink. Never met one who likes it like you."
"I see."
Balun nodded. Made sense now. In the Red Fang Tribe, only shaman Ulan drank tea.
Balun himself had started booze at twelve.
"You want to learn magic."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Balun get strong. Learn powerful magic."
"Magic to get stronger? Serious?"
"Yes. Magic good. Learn, escape pitiful melee hell!"
Kalente asked a few more questions, and Balun answered sincerely. Satisfied, Kalente nodded.
"Impressive. A barbarian with such open thinking."
Kalente marveled, face flushed as he looked around, then jumped up.
"Wait a moment. Need to note this. Our meeting might spark my great research."
He went upstairs and returned in two minutes with paper and a fountain pen, scribbling furiously.
Too sudden not to ask.
"What writing?"
"Recording everything you said."
"My words? Why?"
"Precious research notes. Can't waste them. Bear with me."
What is this situation?
Balun was baffled. Mad scientist much?
Not using me as guinea pig or selling me off, right?
If so, he'd split the head vertically.
"Teach magic?"
"Of course. I'll teach you."
"Good!"
Balun nodded happily. Magic teacher secured.
"Pay tuition. How much?"
"No need."
"Hm? No need?"
"Yes. No money."
"Then what?"
"Nothing. No master-servant stuff. Just stay here awhile, follow my teachings diligently."
Balun's eyes narrowed. Suspicious. No money? Scam? Body parts harvested and sold?
"Answer honest. See your heart. Black."
"See my heart? What…"
"Balun man. First time. Treat well. Doesn't add up."
"Mm."
"You weird. Scammer?"
Kalente groaned low. Sharp aura poured from Balun—like facing a starving tiger. Chilling vigilance hit instantly.
Body shrank instinctively, but Kalente stayed calm.
"Calm down. No intent to deceive."
"Say intent. Or split head."
"Fine. Straight talk. Ease off the killing intent. Might piss myself—ugly sight."
Balun eased the pressure.
"Whew. Close call."
"No lie. Know you not scared."
"Really. Old man like me, what power?"
"Eyes steady. Not scared."
Kalente met Balun's eyes. No doubt. He chuckled.
Tough one.
Sharp eyes. Fooled most knights with his act.
Sixteen? If Dane hadn't said yesterday, he'd peg him as a battle-hardened veteran. Twenty years on the field.
"Want to research you."
Kalente cut straight.
"Research?"
"Yes. You, the barbarian."
He leaned forward.
"Barbarians hate magic. We know little of barbarians and magic. How their tough bodies take mana, how warrior minds parse spells. Mostly unknown."
"So?"
"But you want to learn magic. Barbarian learning magic? Body and magic combined—how? Mana effects? Exciting just thinking!"
Kalente's eyes sparkled.
"You just learn magic. I'll record and study every aspect. Write papers from it. Fun. So fun."
Hearing the excited voice, Balun thought,
Just a regular mad scientist.
Not bad. Just weird.
* * *
Thus, Balun began learning magic from Kalente. Condition: stay at his house awhile. Practically free—magic lessons plus room and board.
What a steal. Thought he'd shell out a fortune; zero cost.
"First, measure talent."
"Talent measure?"
"Yes. Need talent for magic. Hope you have it."
"Can check?"
"Usually no, but I can."
Kalente led to the basement. Spacious, with a large circle in the center, intricate geometric patterns inside.
"Stand in middle. Relax. Move if want, but stay inside. Mana flow destabilizes otherwise."
Balun complied. Kalente took a long wooden staff from the wall, tapped the floor. Wind swirled from the spot, circling outward.
Magical. No breeze before.
"Magic?"
"More mana manipulation. Simple."
"Cool."
"Starting. Stay still till I say done."
Kalente closed eyes, murmured unknown words. Geometric circle glowed.
Beautiful. Balun stared, then felt odd—like invisible something wrapping, pressing him.
Unfamiliar; Balun fidgeted.
"Problem? Feel something?"
"Weird feeling."
"Weird? Really?"
"Real."
"Insane! Already sensed mana!"
Kalente's voice rose.
"Good?"
"Obviously! Great start!"
Excited tone hyped Balun too.
Talent confirmed!
Definitely. Balun fantasized: mage Balun raining spells from backline. No axe, no shirtless—robe, cool staff, chanting safely.
No sword or arrow worries in rear guard. Spell complete, obliterating foes. Balun shivered in delight.
"Yes!"
Balun grinned foolishly. Escaping brute warrior life felt amazing. No more frontline risks. Ranged from safety.
Keep hand axe though. For self-defense.
Sentimental after years. Red Fang boys played with weapons from infancy. Balun since one—fifteen years.
Awkward to ditch.
Axe for close threats.
Balun schemed happily.
"What exactly? Describe?"
"Something wrapped Balun. Pressing."
"Earth. As expected. Hypothesis holds."
Kalente noted in book.
"Anything else? Warm, wet, tingly?"
"Yes. Cool too."
"Wind! Earth and wind—dual affinity! Amazing!"
"Good?"
"Yes! Most mages lack even one! You have two!"
"Ooh!"
Balun snorted proudly.
Genius!
Thrilled, Kalente stepped in, grabbed shoulder.
"What?"
"Final check. Not harming. Just peeking inside. Trust."
"Got it."
Balun relaxed. Kalente placed palm, murmured. Wriggling inside—like worms crawling…
Later, hand off, sensation gone.
"Done. Out."
Light faded. Balun stepped out, eager.
"Results? Good?"
"Two good news, one bad. Which first?"
Balun's face twisted. Bad news? Kalente looked ambiguous—serious now.
"Bad first."
"Knew it. Better rip bandage off."
Deep breath, Kalente spoke.
"Bad news: You can't use magic."
"…What?"
Balun rubbed ears.
"Literal. No magic for you."
"No fireballs?"
"Nope."
"Ever?"
"Not never. Thirty years training, maybe 2nd circle Fire Bolt. Thirty for 2nd circle. Tough."
Balun's vision blurred. Dizzy?
"Your mana circuits' outlets too narrow. Muscles and bones too dense, crushing outlets. Almost sealed—no external manifestation."
Balun got it.
Muscle pig can't magic?
"Fascinating case. Touched many knights, never like this. First in my life!"
"……."
"Muscles overpowering circuits? Paper material. Publish, all mages notice you!"
My spell barrage… ranged dreams…
Balun rubbed eyes. Couldn't quit yet.
Three good news.
Balun glared.
"Good news!"
"Eek! Why yell?"
"Good news three! Now!"
Kalente flinched. Balun's fierce glare terrified—like a demon.
"Heart attack much."
Tsking, continued.
"First good: Supreme physique."
Balun blinked. Usual praise, different words.
"Measured countless knights. Rarely supreme like yours. Strength, elasticity, durability, recovery—perfect. Born warrior."
"I see."
"Honestly, why magic? Axe work alone, no one surpasses you later."
"No magic?"
"Swing kills anyway. Need more?"
"What if magic from afar?"
"Chase and kill. Throw axe."
"Possible?"
Reading intent, Kalente pressed.
"Counter: Archer shoots from range—what do?"
"Dodge, chase, kill."
"Mage different?"
"Well… mm."
"Archers trickier sometimes. Battlefield: many archers, few mages. Arrow rain or fireballs—which deadlier?"
"Arrow rain."
"See? You know."
Balun stroked chin. Logical.
"Know worries, but needless. Waste heaven's talent for earth's? Nonsense."
Pinpoint words lifted Balun's sunken mood.
Felt good. Barbarian brutes vs. sage—worlds apart.
Yeah, I'm built for it. Never lost arm-wrestle. Fastest runner in tribe.
Sank in now.
Bears at ten. Frontline in wars.
Despair lifted. Two more goods—hype rising.