The Inferior Knight Who Yearned for Magic
Two men. Mana began to ripple in the underling’s hands.
Neither carried a basic sword or any proper armament. That meant they were mages. He could have crushed them with low-tier magic without breaking a sweat, but he deliberately chose not to. The words the man had just spat out still made his stomach turn.
— This… this inferior swordsman who can’t even use magic like this.
From the look of things, this was a world that treated swordsmanship as inferior. A place where only magic was judged superior. No wonder TryingMan had been desperate enough to swallow that absurd drug just to learn magic.
Unfortunately for them, McDeras rather liked the sword. His master, a Sword Saint, had always said the same thing.
A sword carries a person’s heart, and by wielding it one erases worldly suffering. The blade must be sharp, yet mercy must rest at its tip.
In truth, before he had pushed magic to its absolute limits, swordsmanship had helped him far more often. He could not stand these fools looking down on the blade with their pitiful scraps of magical knowledge. Their magic was trash.
“You little shit!”
The moment he charged forward, the underling cast. An explosive-type spell. Pointless. McDeras could use Aura capable of cutting magic itself.
All he held was a ballpoint pen, but that didn’t matter. Aura could be imbued into any object. He poured mana into it, amplifying both the size and force of the Aura. And then—
BOOM!
The man’s explosion vanished in midair as if it had never existed.
“How…?”
The man staggered backward in shock, but it was already too late. The distance was closed. McDeras drove the pen straight into the man’s throat, then kicked him hard enough to smash him into the dirt. Without pausing he sprinted toward the one who looked like the leader.
“R-restrain him!”
The words had barely left the man’s mouth when a strange elemental spirit began hurling massive chains at him with a metallic rattle. In the end, that too was nothing more than magic. He brought the pen down and the chains vanished in a burst of white light.
“Fuck… why the hell is my spirit magic breaking against a goddamn ballpoint pen?!”
The man cursed at the absurd sight, but of course it was absurd. McDeras was an Archmage; his understanding of magic formulas ran deep, and his ability to find their weaknesses was unmatched.
Even setting all of that aside, it didn’t matter.
His Aura carried the property of anti-magic.
“Die!”
Apparently deciding magic was useless, the man lumbered forward and swung a heavy fist. McDeras discarded the pen at once and slipped into his guard. He slapped the incoming punch aside with his forearm and drove a fist straight into the man’s jaw.
The man staggered but absorbed the blow. McDeras immediately swept his legs out from under him, destroying his balance. As the body toppled, McDeras seized the man’s head and, using gravity itself, slammed it into the ground.
CRACK!
A tremendous impact rang out. Blood poured freely from the man’s nose and mouth.
“You… won’t get away with this… I don’t know what dirty trick you used… but our guild members… won’t let you live…”
Even now the man glared up with stubborn defiance. McDeras felt not the slightest fear. Not long ago he had been fighting a war. Mass-destruction spells were currently sealed, but low-tier magic was available at will, and he had already used the penalty-release ability to free his mana constraints, so Aura reinforcement was unrestricted.
In twenty-four hours he would have high-tier magic again. Even if the entire guild swarmed him, he wouldn’t bat an eye. He made no effort to hide his thoughts and spoke to the man without the slightest filter.
“Should I really be afraid of a pathetic organization that lets trash like you keep underlings?”
He planted his foot on the man’s head. This time the man began to beg.
“If you… spare me… I’ll give you money.”
Money… He already had more than he could ever spend. Just mass-producing Elixirs at the Magic Tower brought in wealth he would never finish using in a lifetime. Why would he care about coin? What he wanted was information.
“What’s your guild’s name?”
“Akir… We’re the Akir Guild.”
While McDeras paused in thought, the man laughed and shouted.
“So you’ve heard of us. Finally scared, are you? The Akir Guild will hunt you down. So if you know what’s good for you, kneel right now and—”
McDeras drove the pen into the man’s throat. He leaned close to the choking figure and whispered.
“Your usefulness is over. Die.”
Thud.
In an instant both men lay still.
Akir, huh…
The reason he had hesitated upon hearing the name was simple: he had heard it somewhere before. Back in the days when he had read more than three thousand novels like a madman, the name “Akir” had crossed his path.
Beyond the fact that it was a plunderer guild, nothing else came to mind.
Memory’s fuzzy.
He had been binge-reading without rhyme or reason before the possession. Fully recalling something from over twelve years ago was impossible.
But the title he knew with perfect clarity. He had confirmed it through TryingMan’s authentication data right before arriving here.
Growth Diary of an Inferior Knight
Even knowing only the title was enough. Digging around later would jog his memory. With that thought he carved the name Akir into his mind and walked once more toward TryingMan’s diary.
What a waste of a guy.
TryingMan had been a swordsman. A swordsman who never skipped a single day of training, polishing his blade relentlessly. Proof of that lay in the body McDeras now inhabited—not massive, yet every muscle developed without gap, and the palms covered in blisters and calluses that spoke of years spent gripping a sword.
Today I swung my sword for twelve hours again. They say effort never betrays you. Tomorrow I will be stronger than I am today.
One of the passages from TryingMan’s diary.
Why… With this much dedication, he didn’t need to covet magic at all.
Magic was superior, that much was true, yet swordsmanship was never inferior. Reach the realm where one could freely use Aura and sword energy, and the outcome of a fight between swordsman and mage came down entirely to skill and sense. In the end nothing was inherently superior or inferior; what mattered was the person who wielded it.
I think I understand why, though…
I was lucky enough to get into the academy, but everyone ignores me. I’m the only one who can’t use magic… Why did I have to pass? If I’d failed I never would’ve had to endure this humiliation… Everyone laughs and calls me inferior. It’s hard. But if I just try a little harder, maybe one day I can become like them.
Today I got beaten countless times in front of Levia. The pain hurt less than the shame. I couldn’t even properly fight back in front of the girl I liked… If only I could use magic. Then I wouldn’t have to suffer this injustice… I want to die. No matter how much I train my swordsmanship, I can’t see a future.
Today they pulled my pants down in front of Levia. Still, it was okay. Because Levia took my side. She shouted at the bullies to stop. But I was worried. What if they start targeting her too because of me?
I asked Levia out to thank her for helping me. Why won’t she answer… She must be a little busy.
I confessed and got rejected. Levia said she’s interested in magic, so she likes people she can talk about magic with. What a miserable day. If only… I could have learned magic too.
TryingMan. After closing the diary, McDeras recalled the events of a few days prior.
The nickname TryingMan he had learned through his Guide ability.
McDeras had searched the name on Dying Novel Gallery.
There’s someone I like. How should I confess?
I posted before that I found someone I like. We’re meeting today.
I confessed and got dumped… She said she doesn’t see me that way.
What do you do when the person you like stops answering your messages?
The girl I like seems interested in magic… but I can’t use any…
Is there a way to learn magic?
I heard there’s a drug that lets you learn magic, so I looked into it. They’re shipping a huge batch soon.
Something’s weird… After taking the drug my body won’t move properly… Is it supposed to be like this?
That drug I mentioned before… didn’t seem to work, so I took a few bottles at once… If I take this, will I finally be able to talk to her?
Did I take too much? Everything feels hazy. But it feels good. Once I learn magic I’ll enroll as top student and make her look at me again. No more bullying at the academy either.
TryingMan had been an ordinary person nursing a crush. The reason the man’s name had felt familiar from the start was that McDeras had once watched him closely.
He had observed TryingMan in the past because another authenticated user, WeepingWillow, who posted in a different time zone, had transmigrated into the exact same novel.
WeepingWillow. Checking the authentication data revealed the name she used inside the novel was Levia, so she was presumed female. TryingMan’s name, for the record, had been Cael.
Multiple people transmigrating into the same novel was common enough. The problem was the posts WeepingWillow (Levia) kept uploading.
Today I helped a kid who was getting bullied at the academy. It was scary, but I did the right thing, right?
I decided to be friends with the kid I helped before. Talking to him, he seems nicer than I expected.
The kid I helped messaged me to say thanks… He wants to meet. Should I go?
The kid I helped suddenly confessed when we met today and I’m so flustered… How am I supposed to act around him now? T_T I don’t feel any romantic interest at all…
My guy friend keeps asking to hang out and it’s getting uncomfortable. How do I create some distance?
Anyone know how to gently distance yourself from a guy friend without hurting his feelings…
Anyone with eyes could see it. TryingMan’s crush was WeepingWillow.
Both had posted their worries on the same board, yet their directions were completely opposite.
TryingMan’s posts were mostly about how to confess to his female friend. WeepingWillow’s were mostly about how to reject her male friend’s confession without causing pain.
They shared the same gallery, yet it seemed they never read each other’s posts. Thousands of threads went up on Dying Novel Gallery every day. Unless you camped there all day like McDeras, missing related posts was normal. Even if they had seen them, they couldn’t check each other’s authentication data, so they would have simply assumed someone else was in a similar situation and moved on.
But as the admin, he could see everything.
Looking at TryingMan’s post times, titles, and the novel he had entered, then comparing them to WeepingWillow’s, it was obvious they were talking about each other.
One side desperately seeking the success of his love, the other side uncomfortable and trying to push him away. Watching those posts, McDeras had felt pity and left a comment.
Title: The girl I like stopped messaging me… what should I do…
Body: I don’t want to give up…
He had even left comments back then, but TryingMan must have thought he was joking and ignored him.
Haah…
Reading TryingMan’s diary left his heart complicated. Finding out which academy he attended and roughly where it was located was easy enough—everything was written in meticulous detail in the diary.
But he hesitated.
The System’s instruction to help TryingMan. How exactly was he supposed to help a man who was already dead?
Was he supposed to fulfill the unrequited love that never came true?
No way.
While he was still thinking, a bright light began to shimmer from TryingMan’s diary.
As if entranced, he followed the light.
The final page of the diary. At the very bottom, written in tiny letters pressed so hard the paper nearly tore through, was a single sentence.
— I actually wanted to become a knight recognized by everyone with my sword.
So that was it.
The boy had yearned for magic to escape the bullying, to look good in front of his crush, and because he refused to admit his own weakness. But his true heart had been different.
He wanted to be recognized for the swordsmanship he had poured his life into. Whether by the people around him, by the girl he liked, or by himself.
That was all.
Suddenly Tekeloman came to mind. Even if he had never reached the realm of Sword Saint, the man never stopped swinging his blade and would continue to regard his knighthood as a point of honor until the end. If Cael hadn’t died like this, perhaps one day he too could have become a knight like Tekeloman.
You have successfully discerned TryingMan’s true wish.
You have acquired 100 Admin Points.
A usable weapon has been provided.
Once again light shimmered in the corner of the room. A single sword that had been invisible until now came into view. The hilt was worn and tattered, but the blade itself was sharp—most likely the one TryingMan had used.
McDeras lifted the sword and headed outside.
— I actually wanted to become a knight recognized by everyone with my sword.
In this novel where swordsmanship was treated as inferior, a man who had swung his blade without rest, only for his will to finally break so that he coveted magic instead.
Just as the mythical Icarus flew too high toward the sun and melted, falling to his death, Cael had yearned for magic and died for it.
Only upon reaching death itself did TryingMan—Cael—realize that what he had truly wanted was swordsmanship.
Perhaps this story was meant to end as the final fate of a foolish human who reached for the unknown. A story that should have concluded in tragedy.
If he had never come here.
If this can bring him even a little comfort…
The boy’s dream that could no longer be fulfilled—he would fulfill it in his place.
And while I’m at it, I’ll take a little revenge on the bastards who bullied him.
With that thought, McDeras set out for Tristan Academy, where TryingMan—no, where Cael—had been enrolled.