Ogre, Just You Wait!
"What kind of power is that? Does that even make sense?"
"Just how much mana is sleeping inside that tiny body..."
"At that level, won't he surpass the captain someday? The kid's only seven!"
Flames spinning on the wind incinerated ice, twigs, and leaves in an instant. The pale smoke billowing upward blackened in a heartbeat, and the tree trunks looked less like they were burning than melting. It was the sight of a blazing dragon ascending into the sky.
What in the world is that...
Even Megan, still spewing fire beside him, whipped around in shock. The tide of battle reversed in a blink. Megan's magic cut off mid-cast, derailed by pure astonishment. To cast again she would have had to begin a fresh incantation, but she no longer had the presence of mind for that.
"Whew... Looks like this is my win, then?"
A moment later the boy who had gathered his mana spoke. Everyone watching was left speechless. They could only stare blankly at the tree that had already been reduced to blackened ash. Even if Megan's magic had never faltered, even if Roy's spell had never shattered her concentration, the outcome would not have changed. No one said it aloud, yet not a soul present would have denied the fact.
The first trial ended in Roy's complete victory. There was no real need for a second. Someone merely curious about the planned follow-up asked the Baron, and learned the intent: ask Roy what magic he excelled at most, have Shepherd reproduce it exactly, and then demonstrate something even stronger. In short, to show that no matter how fast you run, there is always someone who flies. For the one on the receiving end, no greater humiliation could be imagined.
Hearing that, Shepherd counted himself lucky he had not gone first. He was currently enjoying the sight of Megan's face flushed crimson, her whole body trembling with rage.
From childhood Shepherd had been a prodigy who could perfectly reproduce any magic spell—or any long and difficult sentence—after hearing or seeing it only once. On top of that he was a mutant born with immense mana reserves despite commoner blood, and the Baron, hearing the rumors, had recruited him into the party; their bond had lasted ever since.
At that young age his mana already surpasses mine.
That was the conclusion Shepherd reached after first witnessing Roy's magic.
Even so, the wolves' eyes had not yet bulged quite far enough. What truly stunned them came after Roy enchanted every one of their weapons. Of course the Baron claimed the magic belonged to a man named Geren who had come down from the North, and most of the Soaring Wolves accepted the story without protest. Only those deeply versed in magic—Shepherd and Megan—quickly sensed something off.
It might be that boy's magic instead.
There was no hard proof, of course. They had even watched Geren's excellent ice magic for themselves. Yet a mage's instinct insisted it was not Geren's work. They knew the rumors about him well enough: formidable mage or not, he was first and foremost a peerless swordsman. Enchanting weapons—the sort of magic that belonged in legends—was something only a vanishingly rare handful of geniuses who locked themselves away in research could ever achieve. They thought so because they themselves had come close to that level. That was precisely why the older Geren seemed less suspicious than Roy, whose swordsmanship was supposedly abysmal. The fact that Roy, while studying under Geren, was already involved in a business that crafted and sold enchanted weapons only lent faint weight to their theory.
Well, we'll figure it out as we go.
He was the son of their benefactor, their eternal brother, and their lord. Even if they knew the truth, the proper thing was to pretend they did not.
Roy moved with relentless purpose. The Baron had asked him to enchant the Soaring Wolves' weapons—not with half-hearted work, but with something better—so his mana reserves were drained dry. At the same time, this would be his first long absence from the mansion, so every preparation had to be thorough. Naturally his own safety came first.
Should I stick one here too? Wait, does that look too ugly? This one is non-negotiable. I have to protect this spot. I reincarnated—there's no way I'm living as a eunuch!
Using the mana solution he had been secretly siphoning away, he affixed charms not only to his limbs, torso, and neck, but to his most precious parts as well. Roy was taking far greater care of his own safety than even the Baron and Baroness fretting over their child.
Charms are roughly done. Next is... Ah! The wagon!
Having secured himself inwardly, he still had plenty of outward preparations. The most urgent was arranging a cargo wagon of his own. Strictly speaking it was for business, but because that business publicly used Geren as its front man, every step demanded extreme caution. It was not as simple as buying a single wagon. He needed a driver, haulers large enough to move a mountain of spoils, butchers who could cleanly dismantle an ogre, and a great many oak barrels to hold the enormous quantity of ogre blood. Roy had already decided that the entire ogre carcass belonged to him alone.
"Teacher, you're coming too, right?"
"Pardon? Me?"
"Of course. When the disciple goes, naturally... Besides, you're my proxy. Forgot the terms of the contract?"
Given the situation, Geren had no choice but to join the expedition. Only now did he grasp the true danger of the contract he had signed. He could not deny that he had fallen for Roy's silver tongue promising easy money for sitting still.
"Yes. I'm going. Going..."
In the end his name was added to the roster under the pretext of guarding his disciple. Yet the real greatest obstacle of the journey lay elsewhere...
"Nooo! I want to go too! Roy gets to go, so why can't I?!"
That particular problem was Anna. The moment Roy was cleared to join the expedition, her tantrums gained solid ground: if Roy, younger than her and worse with a sword, was allowed, why was she forbidden? A test like Roy's was impossible. Roy had simply been off the charts. No matter how gifted Anna was with the blade, an eight-year-old girl could do nothing against adults. Letting her win on purpose would be the same as taking her along, and if they forced her to know her place, the image of her left behind at the mansion, wounded and grieving while Roy was gone, was too painful to bear. So in the end both Anna and her escort Aena joined the journey. Aena had originally been a member of the Soaring Wolves, so that raised no issues.
When Roy heard the news he thought:
What is this, an ogre hunt or a family picnic?
The boy who had set the entire chain of events in motion was shameless to the core.
In the end, the only members of the Greenhilt direct line remaining at the mansion were the second wife, Sissel, and the infant she had borne. The Baron looked thoroughly awkward having to deliver the news to her, yet somehow he obtained her consent; on the day of departure Sissel came out to see him off. Chief butler Ibaldo, left in charge of the Baron's duties, bore a heavy responsibility, but this was hardly the first time and he felt no great worry.
"Please do not concern yourself, and return safely."
"Right. Look after the baby and Sissel for me."
And so Roy's expedition toward the ogre, arranged with astonishing speed, finally raised its curtain.
Once the mansion had long vanished and they had even left the city streets behind, the Baron turned to Roy.
"Just what are all those wagons trailing us? They look bigger than our whole Soaring Wolves."
"Why are you asking me?"
"Then who else am I supposed to ask?!"
"Obviously the business owner—Teacher Geren."
"Ah!"
Only then did the Baron snap back to his senses. Too many eyes were watching now; he had to be especially careful. Geren carefully explained to the Baron why Roy had gathered so many wagons and laborers. The Baron looked at Roy as if the entire situation were beyond absurd and muttered a single line.
"Since when exactly did that ogre become yours?"
"A portion of the profits made from the ogre's byproducts will be shared by Teacher Geren with you and your friends, Father. You're the lord of the territory—don't be so petty."
"What?! Pet—petty?"
"Yes. Petty."
The Baron stared at Roy, flabbergasted and speechless. The deep furrow between his brows twitched.
You should have treated me better, then.
Roy still remembered the day of the first trial. His father's own comrades had mocked the son, and instead of defending him the Baron had even egged them on. What kind of cold-hearted father did that?
Just as the Baron opened his mouth to scold his son, Roy spoke first.
"Don't worry. This journey will end very safely and very easily."
"What is that supposed to mean all of a sudden?"
"It means I have a plan."
"A plan?"
"Yep!"
Everything was already prepared: how to roast and boil the ogre of the Wolf Forest, which parts to butcher and how to bring them back, and exactly what would be crafted from those materials. Every last detail was already organized inside Roy's head.
Come to think of it, this is the first time I've come this far in this life.