Chapter 88
Chapter 88
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Librarian Ernst (8) - Invitation to a Walk
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When the boy and Laper first began their duel, the disciples all shared similar thoughts.
'Getting worked up and swinging your power around over something like this is hardly dignified. But you can't just sit there after hearing such a grave insult.'
'Laper's youthful hot-bloodedness is helpful in times like these. Even if we couldn't step in, he can get away with it as just brotherly roughhousing.'
'It'd be great to crush that arrogant kid's spirit, but if he goes too far, he might end up on the master's bad side. Laper needs to know when to hold back.'
Though their perspectives varied slightly, they all took Laper's victory for granted and looked forward to seeing the boy get hurt.
A youngest disciple showing a bit of curtness toward his seniors could be overlooked as youthful immaturity, but coming out with an attitude like 'You're terrible and all you do is nag'? No senior could stomach that without getting angry.
The training grounds had protective spells that Delphinarius had set up for his disciples' practice, so there was no real danger to life anyway.
Still, some pain was inevitable, so before the match began, Laper spoke up.
"If you apologize for your insolence right now and swear to show basic respect to your senior fellow disciples, I can end this here."
"Forget it. Let's just start? You talk too much."
A vein bulged in Laper's neck as he swung his staff in one swift motion.
-Roooar!
Watching the massive flames erupt around Laper and compress into the shape of a sword, the other seniors' eyes widened slightly.
"Laper's improved a lot."
"End of the third circle, right? He should reach the fourth soon."
Spells were as vast in variety as the history of magic itself, and countless classification systems had been born to organize them neatly.
Among them, the two most commonly used on the continent today were based on power and casting difficulty.
Those who hadn't learned magic systematically—mostly self-taught mages using spellbooks—preferred the power-based system.
It was straightforward: low-tier if it threatened single digits, mid-tier for double digits, high-tier for triple digits.
But those trained systematically rejected such power-centric rankings.
The same spell's power could vary wildly based on the caster's skill, mana attributes, and environment, so judging solely by output wasn't accurate.
They created grade benchmarks analyzing mana consumption, focus required, acquisition difficulty, and more. It was more precise than raw power rankings, but sadly never became mainstream.
The power system had longer tradition and custom, plus the benchmarks circulated only in mage circles, not among the public.
Laper's spell, Magic of Wielding the Sword of Flame, was third circle—and on the higher difficulty end.
Narrow attack range, but pure power that could threaten even fourth-circle knights if hit directly.
"This is on you...!"
With no intention of dragging it out, Laper swung his staff, sending the flaming sword slicing through the air toward the boy.
"Oh, that's pretty cool."
But before it could pierce the boy, another flaming sword materialized in front of him, halting Laper's attack.
"What?"
"How...!"
The audience's eyes bulged as the two flaming swords clashed.
Not just that the boy cast a top-difficulty third-circle spell so effortlessly, but that its power matched Laper's.
No, it surpassed it.
-Roooar!
The boy's sword grew, devouring Laper's as if consuming it, then shattered it and flew at its caster.
"Ugh!?"
Laper reflexively dodged, then conjured ice arrows and fired them at the boy.
His quick counterattack amid the surprise proved he wasn't just some hothead.
But his opponent was bad news this time.
Kwachik!
The boy's ice arrows shot down Laper's completely, then surged toward him.
"This... this can't be!"
Laper desperately unleashed every spell to overwhelm the boy, but the boy mirrored them with greater power, overwhelming him in turn.
Cornered, Laper dropped his staff, and the boy slammed mana bolts into his gut and throat.
Confirming Laper down, the boy said calmly,
"Is the lesson over? Thanks for the instruction."
Silence fell.
The disciples rubbed their eyes or exchanged glances, wondering if they'd seen wrong, but the result stood.
'It's not unheard of for newcomers to have outside training. But this...'
Laper ranked mid-tier among disciples.
A normal win might surprise them, but they'd accept it.
But casually copying his specialty and overpowering him? Totally different.
Basically toying with him.
"So, no other senior willing to give me a new lesson?"
Some disciples bristled, but none stepped up easily.
Weaker or equal to Laper? No confidence.
Stronger ones? Mostly elderly, and intervening felt awkward.
Lose: humiliated.
Win: expected.
Tie or struggle: 'Same level as the kid? Immature.'
Who'd volunteer?
Except one.
A disciple around the boy's age, top-tier skill.
Eris felt the stares.
As she steeled herself to speak—
"Enough of that, all of you."
Silent until now, Delphinarius stepped forward.
She approached fallen Laper in the corner, stroking his gut and head with glowing hands.
"Guh, cough! Cough!"
After soothing recovered Laper, Delphinarius sternly scolded the boy, Marik Grimrun.
"You can duel with magic. You can quarrel. But ignoring a downed opponent to challenge the next? Where did you learn such manners?"
"Well, uh."
Marik winced briefly, then bowed obediently.
"Sorry. I got too excited. The chance to learn from seniors I admire got to me... "
Delphinarius's eyes bored into Marik's crown.
Complex emotions flickered in the aged archmage's gaze, then faded.
Finally, she sighed.
"Apologize to your seniors for the rudeness. And you all, don't be too harsh on the youngest."
"Yes, Master."
"Understood."
Replies came from both sides, but neither sincere.
Eris glared fiercely.
'As if this solves anything.'
Marik's apology was hollow; resentment lingered.
Letting it slide changed nothing.
"Master. Then—"
"—Eris."
Eris hadn't even gotten to the point.
But Delphinarius shook her head, cutting her off.
Say no more.
Eris almost argued, but met her master's eyes and stopped.
'...Why look at me like that?'
Anger at immaturity? Understandable.
A plea for help? Fine.
But no—only worry and concern.
Eris's sharp mind grasped it instantly.
No grasping needed.
Her master believed she'd lose to Marik.
Eris's clenched fists trembled.
She couldn't fully name her feelings.
"...Sorry, I'm not feeling well. Heading back early today."
Declaring it one-sidedly, Eris turned and left.
Confused voices called or protested, but none stopped or followed her.
After fleeing for a while,
Once the mansion was out of sight, she collapsed onto a nearby rock.
'What a mess.'
Intense self-loathing surged.
She'd vowed to earn her master's recognition.
To overwhelm the new disciple and prove she was the real deal.
But if that was all just her fantasy?
If her master had no expectations, had given up on her long ago for a replacement?
Now the 'true genius' her master wanted appeared, and mediocre prodigy Eris was obsolete?
Her thoughts spiraled negatively.
Faint reason protested it wasn't all bad, but emotions overflowed uncontrollably.
She hyped herself, strove alone, burned with rivalry, fled alone, despaired alone.
How ridiculous.
How pathetic.
How they'd laugh if they saw.
"This makes me a total clown."
The lament slipped out unbidden.
Weak words from the eternal top student faded into the air unheard—
"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"
—they didn't.
Eris, head bowed, blankly looked toward the voice.
Golden hair that always gleamed under library lights now fluttered in the outdoor breeze.
Suit rumpled as ever, body smelling of dust and ink—unsuited for hospitality.
Sharp eyes and humorless face gazed down at Eris with inscrutable emotion.
Eris muttered dazedly.
"Why are you here?"
"Taking a walk. Sitting and reading all day ruins your health. Gotta exercise sometimes."
The librarian tossed out the lame joke, then bluntly noted her bloodshot eyes.
"Shall we walk together first?"