The Olive Wand
On the 17th, wand maker Olivia (age unknown) unveiled a new masterpiece. Crafted from olive wood and a sapphire core, this wand symbolizes peace—the polar opposite of the Fallen Apple Wand that ignited the Great War...
The news first broke from an obscure magazine. No one took it seriously when it appeared in [Today's Tale], a rag known for peddling useless gossip.
"Pfft, her? She hasn't released a single masterpiece in three hundred years, and now suddenly?"
"Probably just some newbie wand she saw and got delusions about."
"But... what if it's real?"
Wizards are explorers of the unknown, after all. Once they saw it, they couldn't help but wonder if it was true.
And so, a few wizards with time on their hands headed to Olivia's Wand Shop—
[Olive Wand]
[Inquiries to Magic Doll Elisa]
"Ahh..."
"This is... really..."
The seventh masterpiece. The Olive Wand.
Overwhelmed by the wand's overwhelming holy aura, every wizard there dropped to their knees.
Naturally, that drew the eyes of passersby. It was a sight you couldn't pay to see—arrogant wizards on their knees.
As crowds gathered, Olivia's Wand Shop turned into a bustling marketplace, soon capturing the attention of the entire city.
The news reached one elf woman in particular. Sharp jawline giving her a cold impression, tall at 170cm for a woman. Pointed elven ears, looking late twenties. Principal of Arcana Academy: Sylvia.
Having pitied her sister holed up in the workshop since the Great War's end, this was welcome news. It meant her sister, who hadn't touched a wand in ages, was getting her spark back.
"But..."
The times weren't good. The continent's situation had changed vastly from the three hundred years ago Olivia remembered.
"I should go see Sis."
Time to drag out her three-hundred-year hikikomori sister. Sylvia grabbed her World Tree Wand, donned her robe, and headed to Olivia's workshop.
"Hnnngh..."
A chill tickled my cheek. Cool wind brushing my bare legs made me grope around for the blanket without thinking.
But my fingertips met not the fluffy bed mattress, but the rough leather of a sofa.
Huh? This isn't the bed?
Wait, did I fall asleep on the sofa?
It didn't take long to reach that conclusion.
"...?"
Then a belated question. Why the hell is it so cold?
This room maintains constant warming magic—it should be toasty. If it's not, someone opened a window—
"Intruder...?"
My mind snapped awake. Before reason could catch up, my body moved on instinct. My right hand fumbled for my wand at my waist.
"Looking for this, Sis?"
A familiar voice cut in right then. Casual yet laced with delicate affection.
I turned toward the source and saw a golden-haired elf holding my wand. In her left hand, a long silver-plated revolver wand, gripped backward, handle extended to me with a faint smile.
"Long time no see?"
"Sylvi... a?"
Honestly, I was shocked. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd seen her.
Ah, not that I didn't care about Sylvia. It was just... the inevitable fate of a long-lived elf-human hybrid.
Live too long, and your sense of time blurs. Even a decade flies by in a blink now.
So I took the revolver wand, popped out the cylinder, and couldn't tear my eyes from Sylvia's face.
Emerald eyes. Straight nose. Delicate features, cherry lips. Not a single change from memory.
"...You haven't changed a bit."
"You neither, Sis."
Her emerald gaze scanned me head to toe in return.
"Just like five hundred years ago, when you handed that wand to little me. Not a single difference."
Her eyes stopped on the pistol in my hand. Long barrel at 15cm, flashy silver plating gleaming.
"Even that weird wand shape is the same."
"Hah? It's the most efficient form there is!"
Click—the cylinder detached, revealing six holes with colorful gems: garnet, amethyst, diamond, pearl, aquamarine, turquoise.
"Everyone says a wand can only hold one attribute because cores are single! But with this setup, you can swap six cores on the fly—"
"Ugh, that info-dump habit didn't need to stick around."
"Hey...!"
I shot up indignantly, but a faint smile crept onto my face anyway. Couldn't help it.
When was the last time I bantered like this? Even pointless chit-chat felt good.
"Should we close the window soon, Sis? It's been twenty minutes since I opened it to air out."
"Yeah. Kinda chilly."
The World Tree Wand traced a line, and the wide-open window slammed shut. The soundproof magic circle reactivated.
Sylvia tapped the wall with her wand to confirm, then asked cautiously.
"So... you feeling better now?"
"...No."
How could I say yes? The Maou's devastation was still vivid. Ruined villages, orphans wandering streets, soldiers torn apart by monsters, battlefields thick with terror, despair, madness...
"Still haunts my dreams."
"It's not your fault, Sis."
Sylvia plopped beside me on the sofa, gently wrapping my left hand in hers.
"You did nothing wrong. It was all that Maou bastard's twisted ideals. You did everything to fix his mess."
"I know. I know, but... hearts don't flip like switches."
Logic aside, the guilt crushing my chest wouldn't budge. The endless what ifs starting with if I hadn't sold it.
"That's why I made this wand."
I chose peace as the theme to counter the Fallen Apple Wand. As long as it exists, the same tragedy could repeat anywhere.
I carved it in atonement. To suppress that fallen apple wand. Even if it fell short of strongest wand, I wouldn't scrap it—I'd find it an owner.
"To atone for past mistakes. To prevent repeats. So no one cries because of my errors."
That's why this wand needs an owner. Someone like me, hands stained with blood, can't wield it.
"Find its owner for me, Sylvia."
Sylvia met my eyes straight, then grinned.
"Me, taking requests from you now? Kinda touching."
"Hey, I'm serious."
"Ahem. Don't worry—Arcana's got plenty of talent."
But—
Sylvia trailed off, raising her wand.
"But the world now is way different from what you remember, Sis."
Bathed in blood, the glorious Empire's crest fades.
"The Empire that led the alliance against the Maou's army three hundred years ago? Gone. Thirty years of colonial wars against the southern continent and distant East have tarnished the empire of blood and steel."
◈ Now locked in hegemony with the Empire. No more united kingdoms against the Maou.
"...The kingdom got too big."
Three hundred years ago, the Maou was a common foe. Now, prolonged peace turned humans against each other.
"The Red Tower mediates between the two nations with all its might, and Nordenburk in the north struggles just to hold the monster waves."
"No help from them, then."
"Yeah. A healing-specialized wand? The Holy Kingdom will kill for it too."
And that wasn't all. Then came words I couldn't ignore.
"The Maou's back."
"What?"
"Rumor among black mages lately. The Maou's resurrecting, wielding the Fallen Apple Wand to plunge the world into chaos again."
...I couldn't let that slide.
We barely beat him three hundred years ago when the continent was united. In this mess? No chance.
"So you gotta step up, Sis."
"Me?"
"Yeah. If the wand's creator, Olivia, doesn't, this Olive Wand's owner will get swept up in the chaos."
She wasn't wrong.
A peace-loving wand won't pick continent elites. Probably someone with no background—a pure soul untouched by dirty politics.
But a background-less owner can't survive the turmoil alone.
So, even if I hated it, I had to step forward. Pave the way.
To atone for past sins.
"...Got it."
I nodded, and Sylvia grinned wide.
"Good."
She flicked the World Tree Wand, erasing the floating images.
"I'll spread the word back home, Sis."
Sylvia stood with confident flair.
"The world's greatest mage. The first hero to slay the Maou, owner of six masterpieces—Olivia returns."
...Saying who-knows-what.
"It's getting cold, Your Highness."
"Haha, I'm fine, butler."
Empire's Second Prince, Askleon, brushed off his butler's worry with a soft laugh. A humble gesture unfit for his station.
The public praised his modest demeanor as gentle and peace-loving. His looks helped: golden short hair, princely purple eyes, delicate features unsuited to conquest.
"...All idiots."
The second prince entering Arcana Academy this year was a massive ambition incarnate. Only he knew it.
Reason for hiding it? Simple. The Wall Jujube Wand chose his brother, the first prince, as heir.
An eight-hundred-year imperial heirloom, now a symbol of legitimacy. With it gone to his brother, Askleon's options were slim.
Eliminate him or bolster his own claim.
The former? Success or failure, trouble. He chose the latter.
Second Prince Askleon headed to Olivia's Wand Shop with confident stride.
"Send exchange students to Arcana Academy."
"Pardon?"
The Eastern Union's prime minister reflexively questioned his aged king—a punishable offense normally. But the king continued unperturbed.
"Do you know how many 'masterpieces' the Empire holds, Prime Minister?"
"Th-three, I believe. One in the north, one at the academy, and one with the emperor himself."
"Right. We have but one."
The king drew the Peony Wand from his waist. Centuries old, still beautifully preserved.
"To contend for hegemony, when they have three, we need at least two. Be it military, economy, population, or asymmetric power like this."
At the old king's command, twice as many students as last year headed to the academy.
To secure the new masterpiece.
"Select the Saintess."
The kindly pope turned to his cardinals as he spoke.
A century since the Holy Kingdom's independence. From minor region's local government to full nation—it took ages.
He wouldn't miss this chance.
A recovery-focused wand symbolizing peace. Perfect for Holy Kingdom priests.
Claim it, and they gain symbolism. Power to physically intervene in continental affairs beyond mere religion.
Thus, he hastened the Saintess selection.
To send the perfect candidate for the wand.