Chapter 2
Chapter 2
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Water Flow Manipulation (1)
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It was too vivid and too abrupt to dismiss as a mere hallucination.
Letters floating in front of his eyes like some ghost? What the hell was that? Did obsessing over books too much drive a person insane like this? Of course, Galen hadn't read that much anyway.
When he shifted his gaze, they followed right along, hovering persistently in his vision. Waving his hand through them did nothing—they passed right through harmlessly.
'No way... I can't even make them go away?'
The moment that thought crossed Galen's mind, the letters vanished with disappointing ease.
Blinking a few times in disbelief, he unwittingly wondered:
'...Can I make them come back?'
And sure enough, they reappeared.
It was maddening, but it had an unintended side effect.
Intellectually, he'd known ditching the secret manual was the smart move, but an impulsive surge of emotion had made him pocket it anyway.
Then these bizarre letters distracted him just long enough for that emotional impulse to fade, letting reason creep back in.
But now, it wasn't Jerbon's dying wish holding him back—it was genuine curiosity about the manual itself.
Galen focused on the text floating before him.
First line.
'Water Flow Manipulation.'
The ability to control the flow of water.
The Oceanis family wielded magic that commanded water.
If touching the secret manual had triggered the words "Water Flow Manipulation," there had to be a close connection between them.
And the second line.
Does this mean... when the progress hits 100%, I learn the spell?
If touching the manual bumped it to 1%... maybe reading it would increase it further?
Galen swallowed dryly.
In this world, every commoner envied mages. They existed on a whole different plane from ordinary folk.
But for a commoner to learn magic? It was like reaching for the stars.
Talent was secondary. The real barrier was access itself.
Magic was passed down almost exclusively through bloodlines. Why hand precious spells to strangers?
Rare prodigies awakened magic on their own, but those weren't "commoners."
Some shelled out fortunes to apprentice under minor mage families, but that was rare—and only the wealthy could afford it, not true commoners.
In short, this might be Galen's one and only shot at learning magic in his lifetime.
...A quick peek couldn't hurt, right?
It's not like glancing at it would ruin the manual. And even if it did, Jerbon had said to burn it anyway.
It was ridiculous—he'd nearly tossed it moments ago—but magic's allure was that intoxicating.
Swallowing again, Galen cautiously placed his hand on the cover.
Finally, the secret manual opened.
"...Huh?"
Galen let out an involuntary sound. A question mark practically floated over his head.
Inside the secret manual...
Nothing. Not a single word.
Flipping through the pages yielded the same result. It was pocket-sized and thin to begin with—not many pages—and even after skimming to the end, flipping it every which way, it was blank.
Just an empty book.
What the hell is this?
Galen had braced for esoteric, impenetrable text at worst. This was beyond unexpected.
Jerbon, on his deathbed, wouldn't have pranked him.
Maybe special ink that only showed under specific conditions? Or a spell limiting it to mages only?
Whatever the truth, Galen had no way to uncover it.
Well, that was a bust...
The letdown hit hard after such high hopes. Galen closed the manual with a defeated sigh.
That's when he noticed the floating text, still hovering there.
Something had changed.
'It went up?'
Galen furrowed his brow.
All he'd done was flip through the blank pages of the manual.
Tilting his head, he opened it again. Fixing his eyes on the floating text, he casually turned the pages.
A short while later.
It had increased again.
Galen let out a hollow chuckle.
He had no clue how it worked. Did turning the pages trigger some magical effect?
But he didn't need to understand the mechanism to exploit the result. Just keep flipping—easy as that.
'Shame I can't grind it to 100% right here.'
It didn't take minutes per percent, but time was of the essence.
Camping out to max it risked the pursuers catching up—and getting caught meant death.
Even if he did max it and somehow learned the spell, no guarantee it'd fend off attackers. Jerbon had died, after all.
And while pursuers weren't confirmed, uncertainty made fleeing to safety priority one.
Galen tucked the manual securely into his robes and stepped out of the carriage. He unhitched one horse, mounted up.
Destination: the city he'd been heading to originally.
Quinis.
Judging by the sun, nearly two hours had passed.
Galen was utterly spent.
He'd learned to ride, but always glued to Jerbon's side, how often had he needed to? Jerbon preferred carriages.
Riding was grueling even for experts—worse for novices. Two straight hours left his whole body aching.
'At least I'm here.'
Spurring his horse toward the distant city walls, Galen pressed on.
Quinis was a thriving port city of over ten thousand souls.
A long line snaked toward the gates, but Galen ignored it and rode straight up.
"Halt!"
The gate guards predictably blocked his path. Galen reined in politely as they approached.
"State your business."
Their eyes stayed wary, but tone and posture remained courteous.
A servant's bearing should be refined enough not to shame his master, if lesser.
Not as handsome as Jerbon, but Galen cut a fine figure in fine clothes atop a fine horse—no mere guard dared mistreat him.
"I am Galen, attendant to the Oceanis family's fifth son, the great Jerbon Oceanis. This ring serves as proof."
Galen flashed Jerbon's ring.
Quinis fell under Oceanis rule. Any guard ignorant of the family crest wasn't fit for duty.
"Verified! Enter!"
No need to dismount—he passed through effortlessly and headed straight for city hall.
There too, the ring bypassed all protocol for an immediate audience with the mayor.
"Good to see you again, Mayor."
"It's been about a month, hasn't it."
Quinis's mayor, Roxana, nodded at Galen's greeting.
Jerbon had passed through a month prior, sharing tea with her—Galen, ever at his side, was remembered.
"For the third young master to entrust you with the family crest means this is no small matter."
"About that... the young master has passed."
"...What?"
Roxana took a moment to process, then her eyes widened. Galen continued his account.
"Such a tragedy!"
Having heard it all, Roxana sighed deeply.
Not in the city walls—how could she have intervened? Still, broadly speaking, the site fell under Quinis jurisdiction. Trouble had splashed onto her too.
"I'll lead a hundred cavalry myself. Sorry to ask, but can you ride out once more?"
"I'll go, but I doubt I can match trained riders' pace."
"We'll go at your speed. Drink this holy water and buck up."
He wished they wouldn't treat holy water like fatigue tonic, but they did, so Galen held his tongue.
He had to go regardless. A servant surviving his fallen master couldn't just flop down and whine.
Still, he snatched some rest while the cavalry prepped. Holy water helped with plain exhaustion.
In the city hall lounge, between rests, Galen flipped the manual.
He'd checked while riding—progress ticked up automatically just from carrying it.
But slowly. Nearly two hours on horseback gained only 6%.
Galen figured open vs. closed made the difference—and testing proved it right.
In under thirty minutes' rest, he'd hit 22%. Then he set off with Roxana.
The thirty lightly armed cavalry rode ahead at full gallop, racing to the scene.
The sixty heavier ones escorted Galen and Roxana at a slower pace.
Roxana was a famed warrior in her youth; even nearing middle age, her prowess lingered. Smallest in the group, but strongest.
They lagged purely for Galen's sake, so he gritted his teeth and urged his horse on.
It took slightly less time than the trip to Quinis.
But starting late afternoon meant sunset had passed the ridge by arrival.
The advance thirty had erected privacy screens. Roxana asked:
"Status?"
"No suspicious encounters en route."
"Good—no battle."
"But this isn't a deserted stretch. The scene seems disturbed before we arrived."
"Travelers on the road can't be helped. Let's see it."
"Yes."
Roxana lifted the screen with Galen.
Galen checked the carriage first. One horse gone, chassis alone—and Jerbon's body lay neatly inside.
"I didn't want to believe it."
Roxana muttered bitterly. She'd never have come if she doubted Galen, but seeing Jerbon's corpse herself soured the air.
"...Something's off."
Galen murmured, voice low for different reasons.
"What?"
Not answering right away, Galen scanned the site. Definitely wrong.
Post-battle cleanup was inevitable—but both sides annihilated, no one left to do it.
So travelers scooping up the dead's loot? Natural. Who leaves road-side coin?
But only valuables.
"Too few bodies."
"...Few?"
"Yes. Fewer than I remember."
Jerbon's corpse remained in the carriage.
But the masked assailant whose skull Galen had split from behind? Gone.
Everywhere else too—only mercenaries and guards left.
"No traveler gathers all bodies for burial or pyre. Especially cherry-picking attackers."
"You mean...?"
Roxana's face hardened as realization dawned. Galen nodded gravely.
"More attackers remain."