Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Our Ways of Thinking Are Different (2)
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The Stock spell holds immense practicality.
These days, it's a concept so widespread that just about everyone knows it exists.
However, while people know the spell exists, the number of mages who truly understand its principles can be counted on one hand. Most battle mages use Stock spells without grasping their underlying mechanics.
But Yetoal was different.
Yetoal—and the Black Mage Tower he belonged to—had been researching the concept of Stock spells long before the Ashen Mage redefined them.
The original Stock spell.
An ultimate-tier spell.
Spell-Engrave.
Yetoal had devoted his entire life to studying that spell. That's why he could perfectly comprehend the Stock concept perfected by the Ashen Mage.
And so.
At the very least, Yetoal could identify the concealed spells cloaking the girl.
"What gives you the nerve to show your face here...?"
"......"
The girl gazed down impassively at the white-clad woman pressing her.
'Lania van Trias.'
Yetoal's eyes fixed on the girl's fingers.
Kreeeak, kreeeak.
A sound audible only to his ears.
The noise of stocked spells straining to break free.
And the spells contained within were anything but light.
'She wouldn't actually fire them, would she?'
The black-clad mage scrutinized the girl's face.
Her expression still feigned impassivity for now. But it wouldn't hold much longer—cracks were already forming.
"So this is how you're playing it, huh?"
"I supervised them, and those kids got what they wanted..."
The white-clad woman kept snapping back at her.
Seeing this, Yetoal grew a bit anxious.
'Should I say something?'
Was it right for him to step in here?
Yet his feet refused to move rashly. His instincts recoiled at approaching the girl. Even as the white-clad woman continued cornering her bit by bit.
"Something's fishy about you."
The white-clad woman deliberately ground her heel into the girl's shoe.
"If you won't answer properly, fine by me."
She smirked and raised a finger.
"You scream 'lab hermit mage with zero field experience.' Who doesn't carry artifacts as a mage? You must've been holed up in some research room your whole life."
A spark of lightning danced at her fingertip.
"I don't like that look in your eyes. Even if this is Aphria, I'm the White Mage Tower Lord."
That lightning.
"As a fellow mage, shouldn't you show at least a modicum of respect to a Tower Lord?"
Aimed straight for the girl's shoulder.
'This crazy bitch.'
Yetoal cried out in horror.
"White!"
"No need to yell—I was just going to dial it back...?"
BOOM!
The white-clad woman's words cut off midway.
"...Huh?"
"...Ah."
The white-clad woman stared at the ceiling.
The black-clad mage stared at the girl's face.
"...What the—?"
The white-clad woman uttered dumbly.
The lightning that had crackled at her fingertip was gone.
'...Above?'
The sound came from overhead.
Crackle, crackzzt.
A spell crawling across the ceiling.
Far more menacing than the lightning she'd tried to unleash.
'Spell... Capture?'
The white-clad woman whipped her head around.
"...Black, was that you?"
"...Le-let's say it was."
"What the hell? Why would you...?"
"White."
The black-clad mage spoke in a trembling voice.
"We should head out now."
"Pardon?"
"You and I are both busy, aren't we? No time to waste here. We've confirmed they're safe, right?"
"...What's with the sudden change?"
Grab.
The black-clad mage seized the white-clad woman's shoulder.
"No point causing a scene at Aphria. Let's go."
"What's wrong with you? Have you lost your—"
"Come on!"
The black-clad mage practically barked the order. The white-clad woman tilted her head in confusion. She couldn't fathom what had the black-clad mage so terrified.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ "Why the hell did she step on my shoe, that psycho bitch."
I brushed the dirt off the tip of my shoe.
Truth be told, I hadn't planned to deflect the spell.
Her student collapsed, so I figured she might be pissed. And honestly, since I'd dragged him into the mana spring, it was partly my fault.
'I was even thinking of just taking one hit...'
But the little shit had to push it.
Stepping on my shoe like that.
It was the first pair my master ever bought me—the ones I polished meticulously every day. That dirty smudge on it grated on my nerves.
"White Mage Tower Lord."
What was that bitch's name again?
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 2.
Rak had loved the snowfields since he was a boy.
Hunting with the northern warriors there, camping out—night would fall before he knew it. He especially cherished those snowy nights.
On nights without snowfall.
The warriors would hoist him onto their shoulders and roam the midnight snowfields. Rak still remembered the glittering sky he'd gazed up at back then.
Starlight.
Beautiful starlight.
"......"
Recalling that starlight, Rak opened his eyes.
His mind was foggy. His body felt heavy. He slowly turned his head—and sensed something off.
'Still half-asleep?'
Even with his eyes open, the starlight didn't fade. Rak blinked repeatedly. Only after several long blinks could he finally see clearly.
Rustle.
Where his gaze landed.
A woman leaned back in a chair, reading a book. Rak stared blankly at her.
Her slender lashes fluttered.
Her hand gently brushed aside hair swaying in the breeze as she turned the page with delicate fingers.
As if entranced, Rak watched her profile. She felt unfamiliar—someone exuding a mystical aura he'd never encountered in the north.
'She looks intellectual. Suits books perfectly.'
Indeed, a woman like her would pair well with that bitter black brew.
Hm. As Rak nodded to himself.
The woman turned her head. Her eyes met his. In that instant, Rak's eyes widened.
The lingering drowsiness vanished.
His instincts sharpened razor-keen.
"Guh!"
Rak swallowed dryly and averted his gaze. Too late—they'd locked eyes. A predator never lets prey escape after that.
"Oh? You're awake?"
"Y-yes, I am."
Rak bolted upright. He sprang up like a shot, then slowly turned his head.
"Faster than I expected."
Lania blinked curiously from her seat. Rak gulped. She still scared him, but not as much as before.
Admiration overtook fear.
The image of her standing unshaken in that impenetrable mana realm lingered vividly in his mind.
'A magnificent warrior.'
As he blinked at the memory.
Lania suddenly spoke.
"Rak, was it?"
"Y-yes."
"What was your master's name again?"
"Pardon?"
Tilting his head, Rak met her eyes.
"Cough."
He hacked as if choking.
"Wh-why do you...?"
"Just curious. Wanted to remember."
"White Mage Tower Lord, Celly Debella... that's her."
Hmm. Lania nodded.
"Celly Debella."
She savored the name. To Rak, she looked like a beast licking its chops at prey.
"Cough. Gasp."
Rak hacked repeatedly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ 3.
After the chaotic roommate assignments settled, Aphria Academy fully embraced the new semester.
Alchemy, Combat Magic, Elemental Magic...
Students gathered in classrooms, chattering about classes tailored to their talents. Nothing particularly nutritious.
The alchemy prof looks friendly.
The combat magic prof emphasizes physical training, they say. Just prof gossip.
The semester was still young, so no deep dives. Most professors skipped real lessons for introductions.
Of course, not all.
The one class every student took.
'Fundamentals of Mana and Trading.'
Fundamentals split by level, but Trading didn't.
In Aphria Academy.
No—in the entire capital—only one professor could teach Trading.
'Rosel van Trias.'
The renowned professor who raised the Ashen Mage dove straight into lessons from day one. When that class ended.
-Four hours straight from the first session.
-Homework on day one.
Rosel's name buzzed on every student's lips—inevitable.
-Professor Rosel is insane.
-Who does he think he is?
-This homework load in week one normal?
-No way this is right.
Talk of Professor Rosel spread academy-wide.
And.
At the center of those rumors, Rosel propped his chin, checking his next class date.
"The schedule overlaps oddly."
A small snag.
Two events clashed on his marked calendar.
-Week 3 class.
-Ashen Mage Tower regular meeting.
"Hmm."
Rosel stroked his chin.
He could postpone the class, but he hated altering his schedule.
Skipping the tower meeting was out too. He was an Ashen Mage Tower elder before an Aphria professor.
'What to do?'
As he pondered, his gaze drifted to his disciple lounging in the room's corner.
'At it again.'
Rosel swallowed a sigh and spoke.
"Raniel?"
"Yes? Master."
"Come here a moment."
Rosel pointed to the calendar on his desk.
"That day, I have to go to the tower."
"Yes, and?"
"Can't reschedule, so how about you handle the class?"
"Me?"
Raniel tilted her head.
"Didn't you tell me not to teach last time? Said I needed to relearn how from scratch."
"And you didn't teach."
"You said I had a long way to go..."
Her tone bristled subtly.
'...True, I was harsh after so long teaching.'
Rosel smiled wryly.
"Still, you managed the basics, right?"
"...Did I?"
"Besides, no real teaching needed. Just hand out simple problems."
He pointed to the worksheet on the desk.
"Distribute these, let them solve. Answer any questions simply—should be fine."
"Really?"
"Like a self-study session."
Rosel asked.
"You good with that?"
"Self-study? What's not to like? Just stand there."
"...True enough."
Simple.
Undeniably simple. Just stand and monitor. Yet Rosel felt an inexplicable unease. He shook it off quickly.
'What trouble could self-study cause?'
This wasn't the impulsive young Raniel he remembered.
Rosel decided to trust his disciple.