Sword Genius of the North
The Northern Duchess was a sword genius. The North was cold. Snow fell endlessly, and the chill could freeze even the air itself. And this was no natural cold. In the past, during the Demon King's invasion, one of his Four Heavenly Kings—a fallen Dragon Emperor called the Ice Dragon—made his lair in the North, ruining everything. The hero of that era beheaded the Demon King, and even the Immortal Dragon Emperor met his end. But his heart took root somewhere in the Northern soil, birthing this relentless blizzard.
The problem was, no humans could press on through that cold to pinpoint where the heart lay hidden. Monsters spawned endlessly from the Demon King's lingering corruption, forming massive hordes driven by pure instinct to breach the Northern walls and invade the Empire. Battles raged every day, comrades alive yesterday lying dead today. That was the North.
The North was cold. And barren. That was—
'What I think—'
The North's guardian. The Hailron family's only daughter. Iris Hailron, the Northern Duchess—this was her view of the North's beginning and end.
"Ice Trolls, huh."
August Hailron. Her father and lord of this stern manor. Descendant of the Sword King who once halted the Demon King alongside the previous hero. He received his daughter's report with a grave expression.
"A troll showing up on a simple recon and extermination mission... An unexpected variable. Casualties?"
"Six dead. Eight injured."
"...Too many sacrifices."
His face darkened with sorrow. They were lives that didn't have to be lost. It was supposed to be a relatively safe zone—no troll-class monsters expected.
"Did something happen? I let unnecessary deaths occur."
"...I'm sorry. If I'd been a little faster..."
"No. It wasn't your fault."
August shook his head. It wasn't on his daughter.
"You were on the front lines to begin with."
"..."
"You went out on search and support there too. What more could you have done?"
He'd already heard the full report. The front lines—the heaviest monster concentrations. She'd gone with the knights, already handling a couple of hordes. Yet the moment a support request came in, she'd rushed alone to the Ice Troll sighting.
"...Still."
"If not for you, it wouldn't have been just six dead. Probably over twenty."
That was the bare minimum. Without Iris stepping in, it'd have been worse.
"Iris."
"Yes, family head."
"Don't take on what's not yours. That's arrogance."
"...I'm sorry."
Iris bowed her head. She apologized, but August knew it was insincere. She'd probably blame herself anyway. That was the kind of girl she was.
"...Enough. I'll write letters with compensation for the families of the dead and send them out."
"Understood. I'll prepare them right away."
"And."
Iris paused as she turned to leave at her father's words.
"How's Elise's son?"
"..."
Elise. The strongest mage in history—and the worst witch. Word was her son had shown up.
Dozens of years. In all that time since she rose as a mage, Elise had never taken a single disciple. One reason:
—Why bother raising mediocre talent?
Her standards were sky-high. Even the Empire's top genius, who hit 4 Circles at twenty, was just "meh" to her. Not to mention the other so-called geniuses.
'Even that princess.'
The Empire's greatest prodigy. Awakened to magic early, forming her first Circle in just five days—yet even she didn't impress Elise.
But.
'That woman adopted a son?'
And brought him as a mage. A boy in his early teens who'd formed a Circle and become a mage. He looked young and frail at first glance.
"Word is he formed his Circle in three days."
"...Three days..."
Two days faster than the princess. That was historic genius territory.
But.
"What'd he seem like?"
"Trash."
Iris's assessment was blunt.
"A useless worm. Nothing more, nothing less."
"..."
August gave a wry smile at her words. He'd heard the reports. The mage went on subjugation but did jack shit. Couldn't even hunt a single monster properly. Protecting him even cost lives.
"I don't get why a guy like that is in this ducal house. Anyone who can't pull their weight is just dead weight."
"That's how you see it."
"Yes."
"Got it. You're dismissed."
Iris bowed properly and left at August's words.
Once she was gone, August eyed the letter on his desk. Elise's recommendation.
He frowned at the words scrawled there.
-Picked up a decent one.
-Can't keep him with me cuz of work, so watch him for a bit.
-He's a mage.
-Picking him up in 3 years.
-No need to do anything special.
-Toss him in the subjugation teams and work him hard.
A.
-Doesn't matter if he dies, go nuts.
"..."
A note saying his adopted son could die for all she cared. Toss him in subjugation teams and grind him? Hearing that, August figured Ruin must have insane magic skills. At least enough to hold his own.
But.
'He didn't.'
His daughter's report didn't matter much—she hated mages. But the others? They matched her words. No reason to keep someone like that.
'Even at just over ten years old.'
Age meant nothing here. Only if you were useful. Front lines needed warriors who could kill enemies, not kids.
'Anyway—'
Reports said he collapsed at the first monster wave. Probably bawling his eyes out by now.
"Hoo."
August sighed. He'd expected more from Elise's pick.
'In that case.'
Best to ease him out. He'd beg to leave soon enough. Or hell,
'Maybe right now.'
He might already be screaming to go.
As that thought crossed his mind.
Knock knock.
A sound from outside.
[It's Alphonse. A request from Mage Ruin.]
The head butler, Alphonse. August wasn't surprised.
"Come in."
Save me, I wanna go home.
That's what he'd say. Just kick him out then.
As he let Alphonse in with that in mind...
"...What?"
He had to frown at Ruin's request.
"What did you say he wants?"
"Well—"
He asked again, thinking he'd misheard. Alphonse answered.
"...He wants someone to teach him to read."
"Read?"
"Yes. Says he needs to read to learn magic."
"...?"
Question marks popped up in August's head.
＊＊＊＊
-A mage who can't use magic?
-...Fuck.
One of Hans's guys died protecting that shit...!
What kinda mage can't use magic!
What the hell's he good for...!!
The soldiers' murmurs brushed past. And with them, memories of the monster fight flooded in.
Kyaaak—!!!
Krunch—!!!
Monsters charging to kill humans. Soldiers dying to protect me. People getting crushed and shattered in battle. Eaten alive. Those moments flashed by.
"...Hoo..."
I wiped my mouth. Vomit pooled in front of me. All mine.
"Ah... Gonna die."
I'd hurled my guts out, over and over, but it still sucked.
"This is a ropan world, right? What the fuck..."
Why's it so grotesque? My head was spinning. I'd geared up for a happy life, but nope—dragged into dark fantasy instead.
Reincarnator knowledge? Mage talent? Fuck that mage shit.
Got hyped for a sec, then it rage-quits and genre-swaps. How could I be this useless?
The soldiers' looks came back too. Disappointment. Hyped me up as a mage, then bummed when I flopped. All of 'em.
Fuck. They built me up on their own, now crash on their own?
Me too.
Think I don't wanna be useful, fuckers?
What was I supposed to do? Just awakened my Circle—how the hell do I cast? I don't even know how.
Shoving a scrawny kid who can't lift a sword into battle. The world's wrapped in ropan packaging, but deep down, it's a shitty medieval fantasy. Realization hit.
'Especially.'
That last girl. Didn't look twenty, but from the reactions, the duke's daughter.
'Why'd she look at me like that?'
Contempt. Like she couldn't stand the sight of me.
"Fucking mood killer."
Shove me in on a whim, then disappointed cuz I don't match expectations?
I ground my teeth.
'If I could.'
I'd bail right now. Escape this dump ASAP.
But.
-Tsk.
The girl's tongue-click.
-Mage! The soldier dying to protect me.
Those flashed by.
"Fuck."
I spat a curse and stood.
"Shitty-ass ropan world."
Just wanna live nice, and you screw me over?
"Fuck it."
Grinding my teeth, I steeled my eyes.
"No sweet potatoes in my dictionary."
I won't end as the useless orphan (ex-). For that.
'Learn magic.'
Somehow master magic, escape this shitty treatment.
So, what to do?
'Books.'
Our amazing psycho mom—no, stepmom—left books. Something's in there. Instinct said so.
So, read the books?
To read books.
'Gotta know letters.'
Escape illiterate worm status.
Figured that out, bolted to the butler.
"Teach me to read."
"...Pardon?"
"I'm a total illiterate dumbass right now. To fix it, gotta read. Sorry, but ask the duke for a tutor."
I pleaded desperately. Butler looked shocked but went to the count.
Answer came quick.
"The count approves. A tutor by end of day."
"Oh!"
Good—count wasn't ditching me yet. Lucky. I'd have no comeback if they booted the fuckup.
Mages rare or something? Nodded gratefully.
'Learn letters.'
Then magic.
'Survive this shitty world somehow.'
Ropan-dressed dark fantasy or not.
I'll live.
Thinking that, waiting for the tutor.
"..."
That evening. Saw who came to teach me letters—had to grimace.
"Open the book."
Silver-white hair, blue eyes. The beautiful girl who'd sneered at me in daylight.
"Class starts now. Iris Hailron. Northern Duchess." She gripped the pen and said it. Looking like she wanted to kill me right then.
'Why her?'
Utterly baffling.