Talent (3)
"Do you understand? It's like giving commands to the mana you feel within your body through an incantation."
Geren's explanation never reached Roy's ears.
Of course not—he already knew all of it.
"The first two syllables are the activation phrase. Once you've used it to activate the mana so it can manifest as magic, the following incantation determines the spell's attribute and form. Have you followed so far?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"I understand."
"……"
Geren remained thoroughly unconvinced, yet he recalled everything the boy had shown him thus far and simply moved on.
"All right. I'll demonstrate first—just copy me exactly."
Geren recited a long magical formula that stretched into a full sentence. A tiny droplet that had not existed a moment before formed in the air above his palm, then swelled in size.
A spell of this level could be cast without any chant at all, but today he was setting an example for a young pupil's first magic, so he used the full formula rather than an abbreviated one.
"Wow! Water!"
The cry of wonder burst from Anna, who had been watching.
"Can I just follow right away?"
The boy, by contrast, answered with a thoroughly unimpressed look.
I'll watch and see whether that confidence is arrogance or genuine talent.
"Yes. Water is always around us, so it's familiar—and therefore not difficult to form."
If your talent is real, that is. Geren thought as much while watching the boy's magic.
One of the boy's hands slowly turned palm-upward.
A small, unpracticed palm facing the sky.
And then the chant began…
"Waterball."
No—it was not a chant.
What the boy uttered was a single syllable, just one word.
The name of the spell itself.
Yet the transparent liquid that formed in the air was identical—perfectly identical—to the one Geren had made.
What… h-how in the world…
Geren stared in shock and opened his mouth.
"H-have you studied magic somewhere before?"
"No."
"Then how…"
"I just felt like I could do it, so I tried—and it worked."
"……"
Even for a simple spell, this was beyond the pale.
Waterball.
To complete the magic with that single word… without years of study at the very least…
Even with talent, a child would have to drill this one spell to death for months. Yet a five-year-old brat managed it on the first try…
The word "talent" was no longer enough.
Yes.
If one had to put a name to it—genius… or a mutant.
From the makeshift audience, someone could be heard asking, "Is that really impressive?"
They truly understood nothing.
But wouldn't he have felt the same thing Geren had?
Geren's gaze snapped straight to one man.
Roy's father, the baron.
The baron was smiling.
Whether that smile meant he was astonished by his son's talent or proud because he had already known—Geren could not yet tell.
"Haa…"
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No. In my judgment, Lord Roy appears to be quite an exceptional talent."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."
"However, the lesson is not over yet. Creating a little lump of water like this is something anyone with mana can do after only a few hours of study."
For an adult, of course.
Geren drew a deep breath and began teaching Roy the formula for the spell he had intended to test from the start.
"As you know, I come from a fallen kingdom far to the north. The mages there primarily use cold-attribute magic. Like this."
Geren formed another Waterball.
"Ordinarily I would chant a cold formula directly, but for Lord Roy, who was born and raised in a village at the warm southern tip of the continent where it is mild year-round, that might be a little difficult. So we will begin with converting the attribute of the magic."
Attribute conversion was normally taught only to children who had studied basic magic for at least two years.
But that distinction no longer mattered in the slightest.
"The activation phrase is the same. What changes is everything after it. Cool the water gradually, then turn it to ice. As the attribute shifts, the form must naturally reshape itself to match. Soft ice is meaningless—harden it further. And finally, to keep the shape spherical like the Waterball, you must carefully maintain the overall mana balance. Now then—can you manage that much?"
The day was not particularly hot, yet the perfectly formed lump of ice—the size of a human head—gave off pure white vapor as it held its shape.
Having heard every word, Roy answered.
"I'll try it right now."
"……"
The explanation had not been especially difficult, yet Geren still believed a five-year-old would struggle to grasp it all at once.
He swallowed dryly and watched the boy's every move.
And then—
"Iceball."
Once again, a single word completed the magic in an instant.
Geren forced down the complicated swirl of emotions and called out to Roy.
"Th-then, from this state, could you reshape it once more? You could form it into an arrow and shoot it, or into a spear and throw it. Or what about making it larger still?"
Excitement colored his voice.
"I'll give it a try."
Roy carried out every request exactly as Geren asked.
For the shape-shifting, he did not even speak a single word aloud.
"A… a genius…"
Watching it all, that one quiet word slipped from Geren's lips.
"Making it bigger than this is my limit. If I force it any further, I don't think I'll even have the strength to stay on my feet."
"Ah—ah, stop at once. This is more than enough for today's lesson."
He even knew how to gauge his own limits.
Everything Roy had shown today left Geren feeling not merely astonishment but something close to awe.
This kid is the real deal.
It was a tremendous opportunity for Geren himself as well.
His pupil was a magical prodigy?
No matter how the boy grew later, Geren had just secured a story he could dine out on for years.
And that was not all.
Even if he were thrown out of this house tomorrow, the moment he stepped past the front gate a line of noble families would come running with money in hand, begging him to become their private tutor.
Begging him to make their children just like Roy.
"Geren. What do you make of Roy's aptitude?"
Having drawn out a massive amount of mana from his body for the first time in his life, Roy was completely spent and was carried back into the mansion in the arms of his nurse.
In the meantime the baron and baroness approached and asked.
"Extremely exceptional. More so than any child I have ever seen."
Geren answered with formal courtesy while thinking to himself:
As if you didn't see it yourselves…
It was written all over their faces.
Our son is amazing, isn't he?
We can't praise him with our own mouths, so hurry up and say it for us.
While there are still plenty of people listening!
What choice did he have?
As someone employed by this household, he had no option but to play along with his employers' vanity.
Besides, the boy's talent was genuine.
"Even during my time in the Frost Kingdom, children with talent of this caliber were not common. Of course, limits will exist depending on the innate size of his mana vessel, but that child…"
Yes.
That child was the same boy who had collapsed not long ago from a dissociative mana seizure.
Born with mana so vast his body could barely contain it, the imbalance between mana and flesh produced the condition.
A peculiar illness that appeared only in mutants of outstanding magical aptitude.
"I cannot even begin to guess how far he will grow."
"Hahaha. Our tutor is far too generous with his praise."
"Oh-ho-ho, indeed. Even if Roy has shown a little talent, he is only five years old."
Geren thought:
They're absolutely over the moon…
When the noise outside the window grew louder, second son Jerry's gaze drifted toward it of its own accord.
Currently under confinement, the only times he was allowed to leave his room were to eat, wash, and relieve himself.
Bored and stifled half to death, he was not about to miss a free spectacle.
"Lord Jerry. A lesson is in progress. Even while you are confined, behaving like this…"
"Boodle. Be quiet for a bit."
"Lord Jerry!"
"Ah, just shut up already!"
Jerry barked at full volume at Boodle, who had served as his private tutor for five years already and who also held the post of deputy butler of House Greenhilt.
Even though the deputy butler was well past sixty, Jerry's shout held not a shred of hesitation.
Boodle could only stand there looking bitter as he regarded his ill-mannered pupil.
Who on earth does he take after…
The baron and baroness might be a little rough around the edges, but they never violated noble etiquette.
The same was true of the eldest son he had personally taught, Eric Greenhilt.
He had educated them the exact same way—so how could Jerry be so different from his brother only two years older?
Lately Boodle's worries ran nearly as deep as the baron's.
"What? That brat Roy is already using magic?"
Boodle jumped at Jerry's muttered remark as the boy stared out the window, oblivious to anyone's concern.
"Pardon?"
Boodle slowly stepped up beside Jerry.
The youngest young master was only five.
Still early even to hire a private tutor—yet he was already casting magic? It was impossible to believe.
It can't be…
Yet before he knew it, Boodle found himself watching young Roy with fond eyes.
For the Greenhilt family—knights for generations—to produce a child with magical talent of this level…
It was a great blessing for the house.
But Jerry's mouth poured out something far less pleasant to hear.
"Cocky little bastard. I didn't even have a tutor at that age."
"Lord Jerry…?"
"Shut it! I'm already pissed enough as it is! Ugh, this is driving me crazy. I can't even go outside whenever I want…"
Jerry stared down at his little brother and clicked his tongue.
"I finally found a new toy, and who knows when I'll get to play with it however I like!"
Boodle simply closed his eyes tightly as he watched Jerry.
Meanwhile, carried into the mansion in the nurse's arms, Roy sipped a cool juice while leaning back against a soft sofa and thought.
I should be able to start soon.
Combat magic like today's was not actually his specialty.
I have a different specialty entirely.
He asked the nurse,
"Where's Marek? Is Marek still confined?"
A task for his personal servant had just come to mind.