Chapter 180
Chapter 180
Speaking irrelevant words while manipulating mana is considered taboo—it disrupts concentration and hinders the success of the spell.
Clayton had always taught his disciples this way, but right now, he felt like praying to the gods.
"Please, please..."
The mana he was channeling was barely at the 1st-Circle level, and the metal he was focusing on was nothing more than ordinary steel.
But the bluish liquid flowing around that steel was a concentrated solution of mithril and black metal—two rare magical metals. If this failed, nearly a million gold would evaporate into thin air.
Worse yet, this experiment had consumed the remaining balance of the ten million gold budget he had requested from the Grand Prince.
This was his final attempt—one that, if failed, would leave no hope for future experiments. His very flesh trembled at the thought.
"Please, please, please, please! Oh Nine Deities who watch over heaven and earth, I beg for your aid!"
Despite being a mage who should uphold dignity, Clayton knelt shamelessly, pleading to the gods. But his desperation was genuine.
'I made such bold promises to the Grand Prince—I can't fail again!'
Not only would it disgrace his family, but his pride as a mage would shatter.
But the gods turned their backs on him.
Pshhh—
The moment the bubbling special solution cooled with a faint sound—
"No! No!"
Clayton screamed and collapsed onto the floor.
And for good reason.
The mithril and black metal, now devoid of their infused mana and unique properties, had turned into nothing more than hardened scrap metal.
"A m-million gold... A MILLION GOLD!!!"
Clutching his head, Clayton's wails were truly pitiful.
A stark reminder that even mages were mere humans, helpless before the weight of budgets.
The despairing mage lay sprawled on the floor, unable to rise until his disciples, alarmed by his screams, came knocking. It took him two full days to recover from the mental damage and begin reviewing the experiment.
"The theory is flawless. I refined it perfectly. So why...?"
Clayton had confidently requested the budget from Logan because of this conviction.
But after repeated failures, he had proven that his supposedly perfect theory had flaws.
He had to find a way to improve it.
After racking his brain for hours, reviewing the experiment, Clayton finally stumbled upon a crucial hint.
"That's it! That's where I went wrong! Damn it! If I just fix that—"
But there was one enormous problem.
'I need money to prove the theory, but to get the money, I need to prove the theory first.'
That fatal irony.
And he had just blown his last remaining budget two days prior.
"Damn it! You idiot! You should've saved some! How could you be so sure the last attempt would work?! Ugh!!"
He repeatedly banged his head, cursing his past self.
'Huh? Have I been through this before? Do I have foresight or something?'
The déjà vu was so strong it felt like a recurring nightmare—but his towering pride prevented him from acknowledging it.
"I need money."
He wasn't sure how much time had passed—though, honestly, he knew it hadn't been long since he received the funds.
But he had to steel himself.
For his research... no, for the territory's development.
'Right. This is all for the territory.'
Clenching his fists, Clayton stood up with renewed determination and rushed to the administrative office.
Before Logan, he clasped his hands meekly and bowed his head respectfully.
"...You spent ten million gold in less than two months?"
Logan's voice dripped with disbelief.
Anyone would react the same way—it was an absurd claim.
The only problem was that Clayton was the one making it.
Forcing his drooping head back up, Clayton squeezed out his words with as much conviction as he could muster.
"There was a minor—a very minor error in the experiment! Next time, I will succeed!"
He puffed out his chest and strained his eyes, but the Grand Prince's icy gaze was no different from that of someone watching a hopeless gambling addict.
"I—I've found a definitive improvement! I can reduce the experimental costs, and once it succeeds, the investment will seem like pocket change compared to the results! You know this, Your Highness!"
Perhaps his desperate plea worked.
"Yes, I know. I know very well, but the current budget... Heh."
Logan's wavering gaze.
Seizing the opportunity, Clayton launched into another passionate speech.
"I've recruited six more disciples for the tower! With the budget you provided, I've also crafted numerous talent-testing magic circles. Even if the experiment fails, once the new disciples develop their magical aptitude, their contributions to the territory's construction projects alone will recover the investment! You know the prowess of our school's construction skills, don't you?"
"...I recall you came to our territory promising not to overwork your disciples."
Thud.
The merciless dagger of conscience stabbed deep, leaving Clayton dizzy.
"W-Well, by pushing their limits in construction while simultaneously practicing magic and golem control, the disciples also grow stronger..."
He knew it sounded like a pathetic excuse, but he couldn't just stay silent.
After Juan Douglas's death, Clayton had become the kingdom's sole archmage—and had long since become a slave to budgets.
"Enough."
Bang!
Logan's hand slammed onto the desk, making Clayton's expression dim.
"Y-Your Highness..."
But the decisive reply that followed was unexpected.
"I'll allocate more funds to your tower as soon as reserves become available. It won't take long, so please wait a little longer."
"R-Really?"
"Yes. Really."
"Aaaaah! Your Highness! Thank you! Thank you!"
Clayton repeatedly bowed, and Logan couldn't help but chuckle.
'Well, despite appearances, he's quite pure-hearted.'
The detailed records of the experiment's expenses showed no signs of embezzlement—every coin had been spent as intended.
Besides, wasn't this research something Logan himself had requested after handing over Croune's journal?
Yet Clayton had become so engrossed that he was now the one pleading for support.
Seeing such sincerity from an archmage eased the sting of the financial loss.
Moreover, Logan had been planning to meet Clayton anyway.
"Master Clayton, if you're taking a break from experiments, you have some free time, right?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. The disciples handle recruitment themselves, so I..."
"Perfect. Until the budget is replenished, accompany me on a trip."
"A trip? Where?"
"Have you heard of the Taren region?"
"Yes. I heard it's the new territory granted to your family."
Seeing Clayton's bewildered expression, Logan grinned.
"We're going there. Just to confirm—you can use detection magic deep underground, right?"
"Huh? Of course! I may look like this, but I am an earth-attribute archmage!"
"Then it's settled. Hamar will come too, so prepare immediately."
"...Right now?"
"Yes."
Or do you not want the budget?
The moment Logan shot him a subtly threatening look—
"Of course I'll go. I'll prepare at once."
Clayton had no choice but to nod obediently.
Logan then immediately headed to the workshop, dragged out Hamar—who had been carving the 142nd Noir's Eye—and tossed him onto a horse.
"Some people get permission, others just get kidnapped. This is just... unfair. Shouldn't people be treated equally...?"
Grumbling was only natural, but repeating the same complaint for three straight days was almost a talent in itself.
The drooping ears of the pony Hamar rode might have been due to the flood of grievances.
'Consistency. Absolute consistency...'
Yet, for some reason, Logan couldn't bring himself to dislike the dwarf.
He had planned to withhold rewards until they reached their destination and assigned Hamar a new task, but he ended up presenting the gift earlier than intended.
"Hamar. Come here."
"Yes. Reporting for duty immediately. What power do I have to refuse? If you say jump, I ask how high."
The pony clip-clopped over.
Suppressing a laugh at Hamar's sour expression, Logan pulled out a prepared magical contract and waved it.
"Remember this?"
Hamar's face twisted further.
"Yes, yes. That's why I'm trudging along obediently like this."
The worse Hamar's mood now, the more dramatic his reaction to the gift would be. So Logan deliberately delayed.
"You contributed greatly in the last war—arguably the most. Yet I've given you nothing in return. Not that you seem to crave wealth or glory..."
"...?"
Hamar tilted his head, sensing something, and his expression slowly shifted.
Enjoying the reaction, Logan held the contract in front of him.
"So I thought I'd give you this slave contract as a gift. Right here, I'll nullify—"
He began to tear it—
Snap!
"NO!! STOP RIGHT THERE!! Master, put those hands down! Hey! Don't use force! Tch! What are you doing?!"
The dwarf leaped from the pony's saddle, grabbed Logan's wrists, and dangled from them.
"...What are you doing?"
He was trying to grant freedom—wasn't that a good thing?
Logan stared in disbelief.
"Th-This guarantees my freedom in 20... no, 16 years! Who said you could tear it?! Who said it could be torn?!"
"Huh? No, I'm saying I'll free you now—"
"If you tear this, you'll just keep me enslaved indefinitely! You won't let me go! I know your tricks!!"
Tears welled in Hamar's eyes as he shrieked. Logan could only lower his hands dumbfoundedly.
"Look, I promise. Once my goal is achieved—"
"What is your goal?"
"..."
"See? You can't answer! This is just another scheme to keep me, isn't it?!"
How could someone interpret goodwill with such malice?
Logan felt a deep wound in his heart as he glared at the dwarf.
"N-No matter how much you glare, I won't allow it! I—I can't let you break this promise!"
"Haven't I kept my promises so far?"
"Huh?"
Hamar's face twisted as several memories surfaced, pricking his conscience slightly. But Logan brazenly feigned ignorance.
"What? Hmm?"
"...You spawn of a devil. Regardless, I won't compromise on this!"
"F-Fine. Keep it. If that counts as a gift, then good. Heh."
Logan nodded weakly, his spirit wounded from the failed gesture.
But his conscience wouldn't let him leave it at that.
"If the recipient refuses compensation, then what...? For humans, I could offer money or status, but dwarves don't care for wealth. Should I buy a heap of mithril?"
Hamar convulsed at the words.
"Which bastard claimed dwarves find romance in forging weapons?! If I catch him, I'll rip his mouth apart! Don't spout such horrifying nonsense!"
"Lux will cry."
Groan.
Whether coincidence or not, the mithril sword Lux at Logan's waist trembled slightly.
Perhaps feeling guilty, Hamar coughed awkwardly while glancing at it.
"Well... sometimes, crafting something like Lux is satisfying... But generally, absolutely not!"
His refusal was resolute.
Logan smirked wryly and shook his head.
"And who said dwarves dislike wealth and glory? I've always wondered where you got such strange ideas about our race. Seriously, who filled your head with this nonsense? Ugh!"
"What?"
"I want to drink ale, gorge on meat, and laze around too!! I want to order people around and yell at them! I hate working! I want wealth and glory!!"
Hamar rolled on the ground in protest, forcing Logan to make many promises to placate him.