Episode 534
Episode 534
"I'm sorry, but this was unavoidable."
How could Lee Han have known the Skeleton Principal would call him like this?
-The headmaster took Wardanaz away!
-Damn it. Were we discovered!?
"Why are they chasing us like that?"
"It seems they're disappointed that I left."
"Well of course they'd be disappointed when the guy who cooks for them disappears."
Lee Han felt slightly hurt by the Skeleton Principal's sarcastic remark.
"That's not the kind of friendship I have with my friends."
"So who's cooking for them then?"
"I do cook for them... but I get paid for it..."
"Figures. For your information, my servants also get paid. Probably more than what you get from your friends."
Lee Han resolved to help Ifadur with his music magic research as actively as possible.
If he could turn the Skeleton Principal's outfit inside out, what couldn't he do?
The Philone Village temple choir was utterly shocked by Ifadur's visit.
It was only natural—they'd barely made a name for themselves in the nearby villages, and now they were meeting one of the empire's most famous minstrels in person.
"W-w-w-what an honor, Lord Ifadur! And w-w-who might this gentleman be?"
"This is Lord Gonadaltes."
"......"
"......"
The choir members immediately panicked and prostrated themselves on the floor.
They'd occasionally seen floating skulls drifting by, but this was their first time seeing one in human form.
Who would've thought the headmaster of Einrogard would visit like this?
Lee Han, puzzled by their reaction, asked:
"Did you do something here?"
"Of course not. They're just scared of baseless rumors."
"But there must be a reason."
"Indeed. You're the descendant of the Wardanaz family, who devours humans for breakfast, spirits for lunch, and demons for dinner."
The choir members, who had been about to rise, immediately flattened themselves against the floor again upon hearing the Wardanaz name.
Even a moment's thought would reveal how absurd the rumor was, but the Wardanaz family's reputation had the power to make even such nonsense believable.
Lee Han gave the Skeleton Principal a look of disbelief.
'This guy is unbelievable.'
He understood the headmaster was in a foul mood after being dragged out with Ifadur for music magic research, but that frustration should've been taken out on the nameless seniors who petitioned for it—not on Lee Han.
"Enough. Get up. We need your help today."
The Skeleton Principal helped the choir members to their feet.
"W-w-what can we possibly do for you?"
"Of course you can't do anyth— No. As you well know, the hymns you sing occasionally contain divine power, don't they?"
"Ah! Y-yes! When we all sing together in unison, the divine power sometimes spreads far and wide."
"...Don't lie from the start. It's never been that strong. And you said 'occasionally.' It's not all the time."
The Skeleton Principal spoke to the choir members while suppressing his irritation.
This was why he disliked discussing mystical phenomena with non-mages.
Unlike records, they relied on their memories and came up with arbitrary interpretations, making already troublesome matters worse.
Ifadur spoke up to defend the choir:
"Isn't it true that a song sung yesterday, today, and tomorrow carries different emotions each time? I believe in your singing."
"Lord Ifadur...!"
Moved by the encouragement from the empire's greatest minstrel who understood their hearts, the choir members' eyes welled up with tears.
Of course, the Skeleton Principal clicked his tongue in clear displeasure.
"He's right. Magic isn't just cast with the mind—it's also cast with a passionately beating heart. Isn't song the same way?"
"????"
The Skeleton Principal stared at Lee Han in shock at his sudden remark, as if a death knight had said,
"Come to think of it, I've committed too many killings..."
"It's only natural that a song sung yesterday, today, and tomorrow carries different emotions each time. I believe in your singing."
"Lord Ifadur...!"
The choir members' eyes welled up with tears at the encouragement from the empire's greatest bard who understood their hearts.
Of course, the Skeleton Principal clicked his tongue in clear displeasure.
"Exactly. Magic isn't just cast with the mind—it's also unleashed with a passionately beating heart. Isn't singing the same way?"
"???"
The Skeleton Principal stared at Lee Han in shock, as if a death knight had suddenly declared, 'Upon reflection, I've committed too many sins, master. I shall lay down my sword and seek redemption.'
'Has this brat learned nothing? What nonsense is he spouting now?'
"Just as I thought! Sir Mage! You understand us after all!"
"That mage who visited our village before insulted us by calling our singing lies!"
The village choir members grew increasingly indignant, as if they'd been bottling up their grievances.
From a mage's perspective, it was utterly baffling—they'd come expecting magic-like effects from the singing, only to be met with responses like "It's not working well today" or "How strange, why isn't it working?" But for the singers, there was nothing they could do.
They were singing their hearts out—what more could they do if the effects didn't manifest?
"Now... if you don't mind, may I listen and record your performance directly?"
"It would be an honor, Lord Bard!"
The choir members immediately took their positions and cleared their throats.
"Ah, ah, ah. We shall sever our enemies' heads to use as fertilizer! Drain their blood to water the furrows..."
'Isn't this lyrics a bit too violent?' Lee Han thought, but neither Ifadur nor the Skeleton Principal seemed bothered by the content.
"Nothing. No effect."
"Ah... what a shame. Perhaps they're too nervous?"
"Pathetic. Utterly pathetic."
The Skeleton Principal clicked his tongue again, sighing in disappointment.
To the Headmaster, Music Magic had a fundamental, fatal flaw:
Its magical power was simply too weak.
The instability of Primitive Magic—being swayed by emotions or moods—was indeed a drawback, but one that could potentially be overcome.
However, the sheer weakness of its magical power was nearly insurmountable.
Take Divine Magic, for example.
Even if its methods were irrational, the caster could draw from their own vitality and mana, guaranteeing a certain level of power proportionate to their sacrifice.
But Music Magic didn't work that way.
In Music Magic, lyrics replaced incantations, and melodies took the place of gestures or magical structures...
Yet there was no substitute for the required mana. Since it didn't sacrifice vitality or mana like other magics, this was inevitable.
So where did its power come from?
It merely drew upon the faint traces of mana flowing through nature.
While this placed no burden on the caster, it also meant the magic's power was drastically weakened. The moment ambient mana grew even slightly thin, Music Magic would fail entirely.
In the Headmaster's view, the only reason choirs could occasionally produce Music Magic-like effects was because they sang in groups.
When many voices joined together, even feeble power could accumulate and amplify. And occasionally, a truly impassioned musician might instinctively squeeze out their own mana.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to listen a few more times..."
"Do as you please. Until you're satisfied—or until their voices give out."
Already losing interest, the Skeleton Principal waved dismissively at Ifadur.
Just imagining this year's Music Magic-obsessed students whining about their lack of results was unbearably irritating.
Why must young students always delude themselves into thinking they're different from their seniors?
Of course, pushing boundaries was a mage's duty—but those lacking in wit should at least pursue challenges within their capabilities...
The Skeleton Principal let out a deep sigh.
How tragic and pitiable he was—knowing full well it was foolish, yet still having to allocate Einrogard's budget to let his students try. Was there anyone in the empire more wretched than him?
"May I join in singing too?"
"Oh...! What a splendid idea."
"No—hey!"
Snapped out of his self-pity, the Skeleton Principal pulled Lee Han aside and whispered sharply:
"Are you doing this because I compared you to a servant's wages earlier?"
"What do you mean, Headmaster?"
Lee Han feigned innocence, though he was slightly startled.
Of course, part of him wanted to provoke the Skeleton Principal, but more than that, he genuinely wanted to bond with the villagers while he had the chance.
If the choir members thought, 'Ah, this Wardanaz boy is so earnest and passionate,' wouldn't they be more likely to cover for him the next time he sneaked into the village?
"...Fine, do as you please. More importantly, why is a Wardanaz brat suddenly interested in singing?"
The Skeleton Principal's words made Ifadur look puzzled.
"Nobles usually enjoy—"
"Indeed. Ordinary nobles do. But the Wardanaz family... Never mind. Just sing. I'd love to see you fail and stand out like a sore thumb."
Despite the Headmaster's venomous remark, Ifadur and the choir members warmly welcomed Lee Han.
"There's no need to worry. It's not a difficult song, and we'll help you follow along."
"We never expected an Einrogard student to take an interest in our choir!"
"I've always loved singing. I've heard so much about the Philone Village Choir's reputation, but I rarely get the chance to leave campus, so I've been longing to hear you."
"Oh...!"
"Oooh...!!!"
Lee Han's words struck the choir members' hearts like a dagger.
To them, he now looked like a promising future choir member—someone they might even recruit.
"Which of our songs do you like the—"
"Ah, actually, I had a question about the song you just performed."
Lee Han swiftly steered the conversation back on track before they could derail it.
In situations like this, enthusiasm mattered more than skill.
As long as he showed earnest effort, the choir members would be impressed enough.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
Lee Han summoned his hatred, recalling the undead minions the Skeleton Principal commanded.
Then, he began singing along with the choir.
"We shall sever our foes' heads and use them as fertilizer, drain their blood to water the furrows..."
Huuuuung—
Ifadur shuddered, goosebumps rising on his skin.
Not just him—even passersby who happened to hear it stopped in their tracks and turned their heads.
A power that unconsciously enchanted every listener.
This was the unique effect of Music Magic, defying the usual rule that magic weakens with distance and requires exponentially more mana.
"Did you see that? Truly astonishing!"
"No... This is insane."
The Skeleton Principal was speechless.
While Ifadur excitedly scribbled down the musical score, the Headmaster saw beyond the surface.
That Wardanaz brat wasn't just dispersing mana to raise the ambient concentration—he was unconsciously infusing his own voice with mana, harmonizing it with the others' singing to amplify the effect.
Even placing several powerful mana-amplifying artifacts nearby wouldn't achieve this level of resonance.
It was absurd.
Imbuing words with mana was the foundation of Word Magic—an advanced technique only upperclassmen specializing in verbal magic could manage.
And yet, this brat was demonstrating it through something as trivial as Music Magic.
'What the hell is he even doing?'
"Is there a problem?"
"That Wardanaz brat is amplifying the magic. Since you're quite knowledgeable about intermediate magic, let me explain briefly..."
The Skeleton Principal sketched a simple diagram on the ground as he spoke.
He was dispersing mana to raise the ambient concentration, and on top of that, unconsciously infusing his own voice with mana to amplify the others' singing.
The elderly tortoise bard, Ifadur, didn't understand and asked,
"But why disperse mana like that? Isn't it harmful to one's health?"
"...Good question."