Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Mage Who Left the Courtyard
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Scar-Faced Senior gave a brief rundown of the itinerary.
"It'll take about five days, travel time included. There's a newly discovered dungeon nearby, so we'll cross the forest, camp at the entrance, explore the dungeon, and head back."
"No changes to the objectives?"
"None. The goal is experience with Illusion Magic, so just wipe out any monsters we run into along the way. As per the contract, there'll be incentives based on the number of battles..."
Tear-Mole Guy meticulously checked the contract terms. Seeing the archer and thief slouching idly behind him, it looked like all the tedious paperwork fell to Tear-Mole Guy.
Just when I thought the negotiations were wrapping up, they started bickering about "how much mental distress compensation for personal insults during the expedition?" It didn't seem like it'd end in ten minutes, so I decided to tune it out.
The archer had long ears adorned with all sorts of trinkets—she was an elf. The thief had a long tail poking out from a hole in her hot pants, coiled around her thigh—she was a beastkin.
Demi-humans, huh...
Born and raised in some rural backwater growing potatoes, then holing up in the Violet Magic Tower making self-canned goods—that was my life. I'd heard demi-humans existed and read about their ecology and habits in encyclopedias, but this was the first time seeing them with my own eyes.
Were elf ears really erogenous zones? I was dying to ask, but I held back—no sense risking an arrow sprouting from my forehead.
As I scanned her head to toe for modeling data, my eyes met the beastkin thief's. She narrowed hers and flashed me a quick series of hand signals.
Point to herself.
⇒ Me.
Point to Tear-Mole Guy.
⇒ That guy's.
Make a gesture that'd need mosaics in a video game.
⇒ Girlfriend. (Heavily sanitized version.)
"She's taken, so don't hit on me"—that was the message. I nodded to show I got it, then gestured to the elf archer beside her, asking if the same went for her.
Affirmative signal came back. Who would've thought this party was a harem setup.
I gave Tear-Mole Guy—no, Tear-Mole Guy—a fresh look, like I was seeing him anew. He was decent-looking, so landing one girl made sense, but two? Total stud material. No messy love triangles, though?
I hand-signaled to ask if their relationships were harmonious.
Response: There's order in our dynamic, mutual respect, and strict time-sharing—no conflicts.
Even more intriguing.
I started to signal "So no threesomes?" when Scar-Faced Senior smacked the back of my head. The beastkin thief got pinned by Tear-Mole Guy and scolded too.
The beastkin thief looked eager to brag about her stud's prowess, and I was dying to hear it for data collection purposes. Scar-Faced Senior shut it down, but our time would come again...
Adventuring was more boring and grueling than I'd imagined.
Walk through the forest, rest. Walk, rest. Walk, rest...
The elf archer led as pathfinder, and the rest of us trailed behind. That was the journey. It would've been great if monsters popped up for data collection, but they weren't idiots.
They knew five people traveling together weren't easy prey.
Sightseeing mountain valleys was fun for a few hours, but staring at the same trees, same rocks, and butterflies flitting oddly around me got old fast.
So most of adventuring was just walking... and chit-chat as the main content. Scar-Faced Senior had told me to "keep your mouth shut, junior," so I couldn't join in.
But watching Tear-Mole Guy and Scar-Faced Senior trade veteran banter while secretly hand-signaling info with the beastkin thief was pretty fun.
By the time I'd learned Tear-Mole Guy's panty color (didn't wanna know) and the elf archer's (totally did), we'd reached the dungeon entrance.
An ogre was lumbering around the entrance.
Three meters tall, bulging muscles, wielding a crude club from a nearby log. Classic newbie gatekeeper in fantasy novels. Same here.
In small villages without knights, ogres were like natural disasters. One could wreck a whole settlement. As a kid, village elders scared us straight: "Slacken off and the ogre'll drag you away!"
But to a Grade 2 adventurer hired from the imperial capital, it was a pushover, apparently.
"Time to warm up. Watch and it'll be over in ten minutes."
"Uuuuurrr—aaargh!!"
Tear-Mole Guy equipped his shield and longsword, stepping forward. The ogre roared and charged. I cast a motion tracker spell on Tear-Mole Guy and started data collection.
"Speaking of which, Scar-Face Senior."
"Yes, junior?"
"How strong is a Grade 2 adventurer?"
"Right on the cusp of Metamorphosis. Succeed, and you get Grade 1 title."
Sudden proper noun dropped—I put on my best "no idea what that means" face. Betting Senior would explain nicely.
"The Tower Master hasn't told you yet...? Makes sense; ignorance might be bliss."
"There are two ways to piss people off. First is..."
"Living beings with souls can reach certain realms. Through Metamorphosis, then Sublimation. I hear the First Princess Elaine achieved Metamorphosis, and the Tower Master has completed Sublimation."
I parsed it in wuxia terms. Roughly, Metamorphosis was peak master level, Sublimation transcendent realm. Didn't quite click, though.
I knew the Tower Master's modeling skills were insane, but no clue what "archmage" firepower entailed.
That clash back at the Violet Magic Tower with the... boy knight.
To me, the boy knight was just swinging wildly at nothing. Circumstantially, the Tower Master did something, but I couldn't grasp what. Was this how a third-rate scrub views the transcendent realm...?
While I listened, Tear-Mole Guy was nearly done cooking the ogre. Methodical like a pro butcher: sever leg tendons to cripple mobility, stack bleeds to drain strength, then finish.
Bit of support, and he could've beheaded it in one go.
Hit the ogre with Illusion Magic to make it flail blindly? Sounded good. I raised my hand, gathered mana, twisted it twice, and flicked it at the ogre.
Sparks flew in the ogre's head. I'd cast Blinding Phantom—overlay junk illusions to obscure vision entirely.
"U, uwaaa—aaagh!"
"Why the sudden movement...?!"
The ogre thrashed wildly, and Tear-Mole Guy, who'd been reading its patterns, ate a random swing.
Clang!
Club connected; he flew five meters.
"Ro, Rowill—en!!"
"......!!"
The elf archer dashed to the airborne Tear-Mole Guy. The beastkin thief lunged at the ogre. Scar-Faced Senior unslung his crossbow from his belt for cover fire.
The smooth fight fell apart.
I watched, gauged the mood, then quietly knelt and raised my hands.
Crackle, crackle.
The campfire popped soothingly, easing mind and body. Licking flames pushed back the night, painting part of the world crimson.
How beautiful. The rabbit roasting golden-brown over it added to the vibe. Camping had romance. And...
I'd been kneeling with hands up for three hours straight.
My arms... were heavy.
Was this Atlas holding up the sky? The world's weight was crushing. Sweat poured like rain; I felt chilly.
Tear-Mole Guy's arm broke from the ogre hit; it was splinted now. Potion poured on, so he'd wake healed after sleep.
Trolled by some jerk illusion mage, but his face was bright. Leftover gems from First Princess Elaine's letter covered workman's comp.
Scar-Faced Senior gave a wry smile.
"Now you get why Illusion Magic's niche, eh, junior?"
"Yes."
Unless you shatter minds outright, party play had too many side effects. Blinding the ogre backfired on Tear-Mole Guy.
Use it wisely if at all.
Like if everyone had ranged attacks. Bind the ogre with illusions, pepper it.
"Wouldn't work well. Big scary ones charge the attack's origin."
Then small cute weaklings—blast 'em one-sidedly?
"Small weak? One arrow. Small strong? Illusions won't stick."
......Area-cast Madman's Fury on a goblin camp?
"Handy if no hostages."
What could Illusion Magic do?
Every application I brainstormed crumbled to "But better than Fire Arrow?" Felt like picking a trash class in an RPG—utter impotence...
To sweep foes stylishly with illusions, did I really need archmage tier?
"Penetrating the ogre's mental barrier was impressive, but... junior, this is how you use Illusion Magic."
To restore Violet Magic Tower pride after my flop, Scar-Faced Senior stepped up.
He put on a solemn face, pointing at our tough jerky, crumbly hardtack, and water flask.
"Order whatever you want."
"......!!"
The adventurers didn't get it at first, mulled it over, then shuddered at the implications.
For cost-efficiency and space, you pack bland rations. Tasty meals meant kitchen gear—dead weight.
But with an illusion mage...!!
"The jerky... tastes like steak..."
"Rowillen! This hardtack's cake! Like from Crown Hall's dessert shop...!"
"...Tastes like home."
Illusion mages massively boosted party comfort!
That night, Scar-Faced Senior demoed Mosquito Bite Itch Block and Gravel Bed Comfort, earning cheers and applause.