Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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>Translator: Ryuma
>Chapter: 53
>Chapter Title: Yeah, It's Connections
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Right after Purion left.
I stepped out with Dalia through the door from the waiting room into the training hall.
The training room in the [Sanctuary of the Sage] was incredibly spacious.
‘……Money really is nice.’
Around twenty meters wide and long. The ceiling had to be at least five meters high.
The academy had training rooms like this too, but they were shared spaces for multiple students.
No one got to monopolize this kind of area.
And what about those dummies placed at intervals?
They were expensive high-end models, something you couldn’t easily find at the academy.
That was why Dalia and Purion had gone out of their way to get a pass for this place.
Anyway.
After taking a moment to look around the training room, I turned to Dalia.
Munch, munch.
She was shoving the remaining half of her macaron into her mouth.
Her expression was stoic, but her eyes held a strange glint of anticipation.
Like she was actually looking forward to interpersonal combat training. Seeing that made it finally sink in.
‘This is……’
Me teaching Dalia?
Honestly, I’d suspected as much.
The materials Purion handed over. He’d made it look casual, but it wasn’t ordinary stuff.
He’d clearly put real effort into gathering it.
And yet, while handing that over, he asks me to train someone else?
‘Of course it’d be Dalia.’
So I’d half-expected it……
Facing her like this made it feel different somehow.
‘In my past life, if I’d known, I might’ve beaten the crap out of him for suggesting something so stupid.’
No, I wouldn’t have just beaten him.
I’d have told him to shut his damn mouth, pummeled him right up to the brink of death, let him recover, then come back and do it again.
That’s how deep my grudge against Dalia ran.
No, grudge wasn’t even the word for it.
- Today, I’ll bury you right here.
- Huh, strange. I thought this spot was mine. Sunny and nice, right?
We’d clashed who knows how many times.
Every encounter ended with one of us on the verge of death.
Of course, I won more often.
‘I’m a righteous Troubleshooter. Justice always triumphs.’
The reason I never finished her off……
Yeah, connections.
What else would you expect from a direct bloodline member of the Dinai? Reinforcements swarmed in like dogs every time.
I’d grit my teeth in frustration each time.
Eventually, once she became the Dinai’s representative mage, we stopped crossing paths.
A mage of that stature chasing Troubleshooters around would’ve been beneath her dignity.
‘After that, even the Decullans couldn’t touch the Dinai easily.’
That was our relationship, more or less.
No wonder the nostalgia hit so hard.
For these reasons……
“Hmm.”
I stroked my chin and looked at Dalia.
Setting aside past-life grudges and judging purely by objective influence.
‘Whatever epiphany she had, Dalia’s existence kept the Decullans in check.’
Even the Dinai name alone was a thorn in their side.
But with one outstanding mage born from it, the Decullans couldn’t dismiss them lightly.
So……
‘Why not speed that up a bit?’
Truth be told, yeah.
I want to beat the shit out of her.
Interpersonal combat training? Where’s the training in a straight-up brawl?
Just hit a lot, get hit a lot, and your body adapts on its own.
And even better than that……
‘Is beating her until she’s half-dead.’
Keep pounding away, and the one getting hit starts thinking, ‘Oh, I might actually die like this.’
Then they beg for mercy, and that’s when you ramp it up, give it your all.
They’ll grow on their own.
Because they feel like they’re about to die.
And……
‘It’s more fun that way.’
Feels damn good too.
Would an opportunity to thoroughly thrash Dalia come around often?
Sure, I could make one.
But a chance like this—with perfect justification and no backlash afterward? Never again.
But more importantly.
Decullan.
Sticking it to those bastards.
If I can do that, I’m full even if I starve. Refreshed without even jerking off.
That’s how it was.
‘Let’s see……’
I recalled my past-life fights with Dalia for a moment.
I didn’t know her training methods, but you could guess the direction from the spells she used and her combat style.
With that thought settled.
I looked at Dalia.
“Dalia. Here, watch.”
“……Okay.”
“What do you think is the most important thing in interpersonal combat?”
Thus began the anti-Decullan suppression training disguised as interpersonal combat drills.
* * *
Dong—dong—dong—
The clock tower in Hazen city’s central square chimed.
Exactly six times.
At the sound signaling six in the evening, the citizens of Hazen knew the day was nearly done.
Academy students out on passes were all back by now.
A few stragglers hurried toward the academy, while Purion sat in the cafeteria, his face haggard after just a few hours.
‘This place……’
Is hell.
Purion glanced up, taking in the two boys across from him.
“No, Zenby. You can skip this formula. See? So my answer’s right.”
“……?”
Damian, manifesting a spell right there on the spot.
As the orb glowed like a basic light spell, Zenby’s face darkened.
More precisely, it darkened in proportion to how brightly the orb lit up.
Purion let out a deep sigh.
‘How the hell does it hold form without the stabilization formula?!’
Common knowledge: without stabilization, natural mana flickers and pops out with movement.
Purion tried manifesting without it just in case, but no dice.
Fizzle……
The spell vanished in faint mana sparks.
That’s how it always went.
- No! You can skip this!
- Why’s your manifestation at stage three? Mine just works when I use it?
Common sense didn’t apply.
At first, there’d been some hope.
‘……He needs to rank sixteenth.’
Purion didn’t have to stoop to that level himself, but once he’d taken the job, he had to do his best, no matter what.
That was the responsibility of anyone bearing the Dinai name.
And Damian was shockingly sharp.
- Oh, I know this one.
- I’ve learned that too.
He knew the basics……
‘……Of course he does.’
Any academy student knew fundamental magic theory.
And what family was Damian from?
The Blandoga family.
Even if he’d skipped studying, he’d finished the basics.
Anyway.
Even setting that aside, there’d been real promise.
Unknown formulas? Explain the meaning, and he soaked them up like a sponge.
Some stumbles, some parts he didn’t get at first……
‘Genius for a reason.’
Seemed like he had innate talent for theory too.
But that’s where the problems started.
The more he learned, the more ‘why?’ and ‘how come?’ questions piled up.
Why doesn’t this work? Why not that?
Arguing you could skip essential formulas was routine……
‘And then he actually manifests it without them.’
Felt like his entire worldview was being denied.
Worse, as Damian’s knowledge grew, progress slowed to a crawl.
‘……Sigh.’
Can I pull this off?
Doubts crept in.
His own studies were long finished anyway.
Teaching Damian was like review—and no loss there.
Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but unavoidable.
The real worry?
Failing the task he’d taken on.
The pressure of responsibility.
Meanwhile.
“…….”
Zenby ignored Damian’s muttering beside him and gazed warmly at Purion.
‘Aster.’
Thanks.
It hurt less when you got hit too.
Purion had tapped out first, but handling Damian alone would’ve broken Zenby ages ago.
In that chaos.
“Alright, mealtime!”
Damian shot up suddenly.
Purion brightened.
Study’s great, but in growth spurts, meals matter more.
Purion waved kindly.
“Yeah, go eat. Stuff yourself, but take it slow—no choking.”
Hurry up and go, basically.
But a clingy water ghost held him back.
“Purion, you too. Hungry? Gotta eat properly.”
Zenby.
Purion gaped at him in disbelief, mouth twitching as he stared.
Their eyes met in midair.
‘Scram.’
Maybe sensing the intense vibe.
Zenby nodded with feigned regret.
But didn’t back off fully.
Worried Purion might bolt, he added,
“Then wait just a bit. I’ll scarf it down quick.”
“……Fine.”
Purion’s agreement came with a sour face.
Anyway.
After Damian and Zenby headed to the student dining hall.
“Phew.”
Purion slumped against the backrest, exhaling deeply.
Alone at last. Normally nothing special, but now? Pure bliss.
If only it lasted forever.
‘Wonder how Dalia’s doing.’
Should’ve stuck around to watch.
Who knows what that Black-White Slums thug might pull.
Still, Blandoga guaranteed him, so somewhat reassuring……
‘Guy’s like ink.’
Gonna stain everything black.
Case in point.
Purion’s gaze fell on Zenby’s seat.
Look at Zenby.
Purion might ignore classmates usually, but living together, you pick up on them naturally.
How to put it.
‘He’s stained.’
Hard to pinpoint.
But the eerie sensations from meeting Aster? He caught glimpses of them in Zenby now.
Like watching ink drop into a glass, water slowly turning black.
Compared to semester start, the change was obvious even visually.
And Damian……
‘He’s always been like that.’
Rumors swirled among noble houses.
Supposed to enroll last year but canceled last minute.
Unconfirmed, but whispers of him running away this year too.
Academy basic class ages vary, so it didn’t show, but technically, he should’ve been a year ahead.
That temperament? No different from Aster’s.
Hang on.
“Hmm!”
Purion sat up straighter.
No way…… he’s staining Dalia too?
An ominous thought, just as a shadow approached.
“……Dalia?”
It was Dalia.
“You okay? Did that Black-White Slums thug act rude or……”
Purion trailed off.
On second thought, the guy’s existence was rude. Not being rude would be weirder.
“Anyway. Everything alright?”
“…….”
Dalia stared blankly at the question.
Like she had no idea what he meant. Purion sighed in relief.
‘Well, even he’s got some conscience—wouldn’t screw up a vouchered deal.’
Less faith in Aster, more in the Blandoga vouch.
A house rivaling Dinai wouldn’t back a total nobody.
With that load off.
He watched Dalia settle at the next table.
‘The thug……’
Must’ve split off midway.
Purion scanned around once more, then asked,
“How was training? Did he teach well? If anything’s lacking, tell me now. I’ll go chew him out.”
Honestly, he didn’t trust it much.
‘He fights well, sure……’
That battle back then.
No mage could replicate it.
He’d explained this to Dalia plenty, but she wouldn’t budge.
Meanwhile.
Purion’s question made Dalia recall the recent session.
- You want my methods? Why? Find what suits you.
Everyone needed their own way.
Honestly, that deflated her expectations a bit.
A mage with physical moves rivaling ether users.
Learning that alone would complement her magic talent perfectly.
But.
Aster’s lecture after that really resonated.
- Okay, picture this: certified rank-8 mage vs. rank-9. Who wins?
- ……Rank-8.
- Nah, wrong.
His answer?
- The one who smashes the head first.
- …….
- Fancy spells? Forget ’em. Just one thing. To win, you need just one.
That one thing?
- A spell with enough power to smash the opponent’s head.
Type doesn’t matter.
The fastest to cast, usable without chants like breathing.
Master that to the limit.
‘…….’
Dalia had her epiphany.
‘……Even geniuses die with their heads smashed.’
So maybe what she needed wasn’t various ways to supplement talent……
But pouring all her talent into forging one spell?
She couldn’t master everything at 100% like geniuses, but 110% in one? Felt possible. A strange hope.
It tickled her chest.
“Dalia? What’d you learn?”
Snapping out of it, Dalia looked at Purion.
And recited what she’d grasped of Aster’s method.
“One-Strike Kill.”
“……What?”
Enough to stun Purion.
“Th-this bastard…… One-Strike Kill? I asked for interpersonal training, and he teaches One-Strike Kill?!”
Purion fumed.
But he had no idea.
This was the realization Dalia had reached in her past life.
Aster just pointed it out.
She’d internalized it deeply because it was meant to be.
In other words, all things return to their proper path.