Kira Laventa, Age 19, Unemployed
In Ian Raven's eyes, the specs of the mage standing before him read like this: Kira Laventa, 19 years old, unemployed.
Name: Kira Laventa
Age: 19
Occupation: Unemployed
But unemployed? Wasn't she a mage? No. Strictly speaking, Kira Laventa was... a con artist.
Name: Kira Laventa
Age: 19
Occupation:Con Artist
That was her real spec. She was a war orphan. In an era where war was everyday life, war orphans were a dime a dozen. Most didn't make it to adulthood. The lucky ones might find a kind neighbor or someone connected to a monastery and scrape by. But nine out of ten unlucky souls starved to death or ended up as beast chow.
Kira, with no parents, was destined for the same ordinary end as any other war orphan. But a passing vagabond traveler changed her fate.
"Hey, you little thief!"
"S-sorry! Please spare me!"
Starving on the brink of death, Kira spotted the traveler on the road and lost her mind, attempting a theft. No skill, no nothing—just desperation with no other choice. And the seven-year-old Kira's first life-or-death pickpocketing attempt... ended in abject failure.
"Who told you to get cocky and try stealing?"
"I'm sorry... I won't do it again...!"
"A kid like you should just beg, obviously!"
"...Beg?"
The man Kira tried to rob was a clown from the southlands. A foreigner, a heretic, a wanderer who couldn't do a lick of productive work.
"Fine. Follow me! I'll show you the essence of begging!"
"Y-yes... Okay!"
Who knows what wind blew through him, but the clown took Kira in and taught her his tricks bit by bit. Maybe he pitied the orphan kid, or followed some heretic custom, or just got bored wandering alone and kept her for kicks. But none of that mattered.
Kira had a knack that kept the clown from ditching her.
"Oh! You've got some nimble fingers!"
"Hehe."
Kira's hands were incredibly fast and precise—faster than the eye could follow. Had she fallen into the dark path of gambling scams, she'd have been a pro sharper rivaling the best. But her teacher was a good-hearted heretic clown.
The heretic clown focused on teaching Kira "how to beg for food." How to shout boldly in front of crowds, how to strut with swagger and bravado, how to exaggerate the tiniest things... He taught her ways to entertain the masses and earn their willing charity.
Kira and the clown wandered the empire, showing off their odd skills to beg for meals. The earnings were meager, and hungry days outnumbered full bellies... but on the road, Kira was happy. Unlike her orphan days waiting to die in the cold rain, someone now warmed the spot beside her.
Of course, being human, Kira sometimes envied others' lives.
"Mister. That guy's dressed like us, so why are people bowing their heads?"
"Shh! That's a mage!"
"A mage?"
"Yeah. Unlike us fakers, their miracles are the real deal!"
Kira gazed at the mage with sparkling eyes. Similar shabby garb, same wandering lot in life. Yet the clown and the mage received worlds apart in treatment. The clown got scorn—at best, a handout of food. But the mage commanded fear and respect just by revealing his status.
"Mister. What if we pretend to be mages?"
"Kira!"
"We look the part already. If we fool 'em right, we could eat like kings..."
"Quiet! Someone might hear!"
That day, the clown hit Kira for the first time. It shocked both the frantic adult and the struck child. But the message landed clear: Pretending to be a mage was taboo.
"We never... pretend to be mages."
"S-sorry. I just..."
"If you're caught, you'll be tortured to death. Hell, you might even thank them for it..."
The clown calmly explained the gruesome fates of those caught faking mages. Kira understood the danger. She got why the clown freaked out. But... deep down, a tiny doubt sprouted and grew.
What if we just close our eyes and do it? If we fool everyone, no problem, right? Don't you want that mage authority, power, the fear their name inspires?
To Kira the wanderer, "mage" was an aspiration, a star twinkling in the night sky.
If I could become a mage too...!
After that day, Kira secretly practiced mage impersonations behind the clown's back. Childish rebellion, sure. But when she did it, she felt happy—like wielding immense power the clown could never touch.
Then one day, an event shook Kira's life to its core.
On a night of cold rain, bandits ambushed Kira and the clown.
"Mister!"
"R-run, Kira!"
His well-worn performance props sank into the mud. The bandits kicked and smashed them, spewing curses.
"What is this garbage?"
"Tch. Nothing useful. Just wandering beggar trash!"
"Grab that girl and sell her."
The clown tried to buy time bare-handed. But buy time? The bandits skewered him without a second thought. A foreign heretic clown meant zero qualms.
The clown was dying. As Kira watched, a strange thought gripped her.
If we had power, would this happen? If I'd faked being a mage and saved up money sooner... would the future be different?
For the first time, Kira thought her mentor—father figure—was wrong. They should have faked it from the start.
And in that boiling realization, an intense emotion seized her. Rage.
She etched the clown's final moments into her memory. The grief of losing her precious person turned to rage, then madness.
She recalled a mercenary band that passed by recently and bolted blindly that way.
"The girl's running!"
"After her!"
Teeth gritted against the cold rain, Kira's secret mage practices flashed through her mind. Her act was perfect—the clown would have smiled and approved. She was one hell of an actress.
"Huh?"
"Hey, what's coming our way?"
When she met the mercenaries, her madness erupted.
"Hey, you bastards!"
"Wh-what?"
"Crazy bitch?"
The mercenaries froze at Kira's sudden screams. In a world crawling with monsters and superhumans, the irrational triggered instant wariness.
Rain dripping from her, Kira bellowed.
"I'm a mage! Mage Kira Laventa!"
"A... mage?"
She deployed the clown's cheap trick: sprinkling gunpowder into the air for a manual firecracker burst.
"Holy shit!"
"M-mage for real!"
The mercenaries bought it instantly. Childlike face that could pass for twelve, explosions from her fingertips, eyes blazing with rage and madness! Kira looked every bit the terrifying mage.
"Bandits are coming soon! Help me fight them!"
"Huh? Outta nowhere like that..."
"Draw your weapons already!"
"Fuck it, whatever! Boys, gear up!"
The ensuing fight ended in a trivial mercenary victory. The "bandits" were just four guys. Why the mage made such a fuss was beyond them.
"...Thanks for the help."
Kira stared at the cold bandit corpses. Just that many? That weak?
"No biggie."
The battle over, she survived. Thanks to the clown's shallow acting and lies.
"Well then..."
Show over—she should quit the mage act per the clown's wishes. It was a death-defying gamble. But Kira couldn't stop.
"Ah! Mage lady! Travel with us?"
"...Huh?"
The first polite deference of her life flustered her. With the clown, she was just the entertainer's brat. But a lone teen girl wandering this harsh world, wielding bizarre magic? Untouchable terrifying mage.
The name "mage" tasted too sweet for young Kira.
"...If it's just a bit."
"Sweet! Thanks, mage lady!"
Just a little longer. Until I adapt to this brutal world. Until I nail the perfect performance as an actress...
Just until then, she'd keep the sweet lie going.
And so Kira became a mage.
...A con artist one, that is.
Kira's mage cosplay surprisingly lasted without getting busted. A combo of the clown's rich acting chops and her sleight-of-hand tricks.
She deliberately avoided bustling cities, sticking to sparse rural baronies. Obviously to avoid exposure as a fraud.
In the ancient Golden Empire days, fake mages like her ran rampant. Why else would weird customs like "summoning a mage" exist? Say "I'm a mage~" nowadays, and suspicion flies first: Real deal? Or scammer?
Kira faced endless skeptical stares but sailed through with top-tier acting and hands. Still, she never lingered—couldn't handle real magic needs.
Year seven as a pro(ish) con artist. Sensing trouble brewing, she shrewdly fled to the mountains. Mages were war's other name. Where war raged, mages thrived most fearsomely on battlefields.
Lately, things got noisy. The death of the previous Talian Baron sealed it.
This is bad!
Bad how? Pants-dropping bad. Kira, who only popped firecrackers for cosplay, would be exposed the second war dragged her in.
Describe the nobles' feelings upon learning Kira's a fraud (4 points).
So Kira bolted faster than light. To where? Mountain hollows.
But the hollow she fled to... was self-proclaimed Baron Damon's bandit lair.
"...Fuck."
A grown woman walking into a bandit den couldn't just "Oops, wrong turn~" her way out.
"Enough... gotta quit now..."
But Kira naturally launched mage cosplay. Survival demanded it.
"A mage? Hahaha! Talk about luck!"
"..."
"Fate brought us together—work for my domain!"
Kira couldn't yell, "Mages aren't pushovers—threaten one and you're screwed!" The goons were illiterate thugs. One slip, and swords flew.
Plus, she had no real magic for clutch moments. So she hunkered down, waiting for escape chances.
But shit tangled hard. Damon dragged her along for "tax collection," and among the travelers... a mage!
"A mage! If you're real, you know my friend, right?"
I don't know you, psycho!
Ian Eredis? What? Real mages don't get shaken down by bandits!
Kira was freaking out, but couldn't drop the act now. The show must go on.
It's Kira time.
She strode out haughtily.
"Ian? Ian who? Never heard that dog-bone name in my life!"
"Ooh! Lady Kira!"
"True great mage!"
The bandits cheered wildly at her snark. Behold our badass mage turning no-name Ian into chum!
Kira's direct diss threw Ian's crew into unease.
"Ian."
Belenca eyed the redheaded mage's lithe form, frowning.
"She's no ordinary foe."
Belenca's reaction was spot-on. Ian hated it, but eccentric mages got high marks. One dissing on sight? Damn, must be powerhouse!
"Yeah. That mage seems pretty strong."
Ian rated Kira highly too. Especially unfazed by "Eredis"—no small feat. Eredis was famous, a blazing pyromancer scorching battlefields. Soldiers got PTSD from the name alone.
Yet she shrugged off being Eredis's disciple? Tough customer confirmed.
But Ian wouldn't yield easily. Even cornered, show magic skill for basic respect. Prove competence, negotiate. Time for mages' noble custom of mutual regard.
Sun's too bright for Umbrakinesis.
Ian eyed the blazing sun. Forcing shadows might work, but they'd sulk and ignore him for days. Too pricey for bluffing.
Warm air, steep terrain... perfect.
"Wind, obey."
"To me!"
⟨ Aerokinesis ⟩
Choosing the right spell was mage craft too. Ian picked Aerokinesis—spot-on.
"Whoa...!"
"Whirlwind!"
A fierce vortex whipped around Ian's group at his call. Bandits gawked at the grand magic.
"No way..."
"That mage is awesome!"
Most bandits saw large-scale magic for the first time. Kira never showed any.
"How's that, you bandit scum!"
"This is the famous Mage Raven!"
Talian's mercenaries crowed. Ian's badassery was routine to them. They trusted him hard.
Their taunt made bandits flinch—half-scared, half-sore losers.
"Hmph! Pathetic! You call that magic?"
One bandit snapped. Momentum and pride on the line. Answering the mercs' "We got a badass mage—you don't? Wanna throw down?"
"Woooo!"
"Yeah! We got Kira!"
"Kira! Kira! Kira!"
"Show 'em who's boss!"
Earth-shaking cheers echoed. Amid the roar, con artist Kira Laventa stepped forward boldly...
Shut up, you assholes! Please!
No one knew her desperate true heart.