Chapter 108
Chapter 108
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 108
Chapter Title: 38: The Magic Realm (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Magic Realm - Summit of the Supreme Mage Tower
Grand Conference Hall
A massive round table dominated the center of the conference room.
At its heart floated a holographic map conjured by magic—a three-dimensional miniature of the Seldam Kingdom.
Seven mages occupied seats around it.
From the 1st Elder to the 8th.
Only the 7th Elder, Siegfried, was absent.
The first to speak was an elderly man with long white hair evoking silver—1st Elder Opfen Ginger.
He was also the king's mentor, and he opened the discussion with his characteristic kindly expression.
"Everyone has received the 7th Elder's report, I presume?"
"Of course."
The response came from a woman draped in a robe of dull hues, a stark contrast to Opfen's pristine white.
Her striking beauty was accentuated by pale skin and deep dark circles under her eyes.
It was the 6th Elder, Abelhart Beben.
"The thought of witnessing that world-renowned talent in person has my heart racing. Haha!"
The plump, affable-looking middle-aged man was the 5th Elder, Luke Presl. He led Equality, one of the three major factions in the Magic Realm.
His face brimming with confidence, he continued.
"Isn't everyone just dying to see if he lives up to our expectations?"
"It's probably exaggerated."
This was the 3rd Elder, Serpent Gerol. A royalist like Opfen, he spoke with a somewhat skeptical look.
"He's still just a kid, isn't he? No matter how impressive, how far can a child go? Maybe 4th Class at best?"
"That sounds like you're calling me and the Simon Count liars, Gerol."
The Linmel Marquis fixed Serpent with a cold glare.
Serpent swallowed dryly under the stare, glancing at the 8th Elder, Richter Simon, seated opposite.
He seemed indifferent, but his true feelings were inscrutable.
"Th-that's not what I meant."
"Then keep quiet. Don't go making people out to be liars for no reason."
"Tch."
The 2nd Elder, Linmel Marquis, wielded immense influence here.
Only Opfen could match him.
"Now, now, the 3rd Elder didn't mean any harm, so calm down, 2nd Elder."
"Why should I? Because I'm right."
"Haha. I'm sure."
The reassurance sounded more like doubt.
Linmel shot Opfen a sidelong glance with just his eyes, and Opfen met it with smiling ones.
The Seldam Kingdom officially boasted two 8th Class archmages: 1st Elder Opfen and 2nd Elder Linmel.
They led the Magic Realm's top faction, the royalists, and second, the nobility faction.
Their relationship had long been strained.
And it remained so.
No harsh words were exchanged, but sparks seemed to fly between them.
"Hahaha. It's a day for good news—let's not sour the mood already."
Luke lightened the atmosphere.
He turned to the 4th Elder, Raymond Floris Shan, beside him.
"You're looking forward to it too, aren't you, 4th Elder?"
"I always enjoy seeing talented youngsters."
"Same here."
"To me, you're still a youngster."
"Is that so? Hahaha!"
Luke's knack for getting along with anyone was his strength.
Thanks to it, Equality had risen swiftly to rival the royalists and nobility factions.
"So, when's he arriving?"
Abelhart asked, half-reclining in her chair.
Serpent frowned at her posture.
"Have some decorum, woman..."
"Old fogey's bitching again."
"What did you say?!"
"Fight me if you're mad."
Abelhart crooked a finger at Serpent provocatively.
A come-hither gesture.
Serpent felt humiliated being treated this way by such a woman.
"No better than a black sorceress..."
"But not an actual black sorcerer, right?"
Abelhart shrugged in response.
Serpent had no retort; it was true.
Opfen sighed.
"Enough, Serpent."
"..."
"You too. This is an important meeting."
Abelhart, disappointed at the anticlimax, slouched back in her chair with a bored look.
"Cut it out."
Luke whispered just loud enough for her to hear.
"Shut up, you stink."
"That's harsh."
Even at Abelhart's insult, Luke just grinned and bantered.
"Anyway."
The Linmel Marquis lightly slapped the table to draw attention.
"Since the 7th Elder is handling it, he'll likely arrive later than expected. We should organize our thoughts."
"Organize our thoughts? Have you something in mind, 2nd Elder?"
Opfen asked with smiling eyes.
Linmel thought him truly serpentine. Greed flickered in those sly eyes—what else could he be?
"A 9th Class prospect. The Magic Realm must offer every aid we can."
"On behalf of the Magic Realm, you say?"
"What else would I mean? Unless the 1st Elder has other ideas?"
"Haha. What could this old man have? We'll just welcome him warmly, like a grandson."
Every non-royalist mage present thought it nonsense.
A bachelor with no kids talking about grandsons?
"It matters little. The choice is the boy's."
The enigmatic remark came from 4th Elder Raymond.
Sipping his tea, he recalled words Linmel had once shared.
'Jamie needs no mentor. He'll grow on his own—and at an astonishing pace. What do you think happens then?'
'No one will think of taking him as a disciple now.'
Back when he was known as 4th Class, everyone would have vied for him.
But rumors now pegged him at 6th Class.
Some still doubted, but Raymond differed.
Talent guaranteed by Linmel Marquis.
Could they even control such a child?
'Lucky if he doesn't devour us instead.'
The others saw Jamie Welton as mere child. Laughable.
His eyes met Simon Count's. Expressionless, perpetually cold.
The count gave Floris a curt nod and rose.
"If we're just trading empty words, I'll take my leave."
He moved to exit with unhurried steps.
Opfen called after him.
"And what will you do?"
Simon Count paused, turning only his head.
"Leave it to the boy's choice."
Then he departed.
Linmel smirked at his retreating back.
Same as Floris.
The marquis shared their view. Though the other elders were the concern...
'These old fools won't sit idle.'
One thing was certain.
Jamie's time in the Magic Realm would be tumultuous.
"Th-the Magic Realm?!"
[What's the Magic Realm?]
Vena startled, while Phillion tilted his head at the unfamiliar term.
"You're going there?"
"Yes. And you're coming too."
"Wh-why me...?"
Vena backed away at the news.
Jamie eyed her pitifully.
"Scared?"
"Of course! The Magic Realm is the holy land of white magic. And I'm a black sorcerer..."
"Some black sorcerer you are."
"I've mastered up to 2nd Class!"
She could barely cast 2nd Class black magic properly.
That wasn't 2nd Class.
It was 1.5th. And calling herself a mage with that skill was embarrassing.
"Anyway, you're coming. Or stay here and bask in Sara's endless affection?"
"...I'll go."
Sara terrified her more than the Magic Realm.
What had that 3-year-old done to make mere mention shake him so?
Jamie felt a twinge of guilt but showed none. No need to deal with whining.
"How long will we be gone?"
"No idea. No set time."
"...So I won't see Sara for a long time?"
"That bad?"
"N-no, not really."
Vena had endured Sara's "affection," bordering on torment. He had reason to hate her, yet never dodged her touch.
Vena had once said of Sara:
'She's rough, but when will I ever get that kind of love again?'
Having suffered under black sorcerers her whole life,
Sara's actions must seem adorable by comparison. And with time spent together, affection had grown.
"I'll come back sometimes. You can see Sara then."
"Really?!"
"Yes. Don't worry. You'll have plenty to do there."
"What could I possibly..."
"The Magic Realm houses Seldam Kingdom's premier magic research institute. Not quite Gremia, but tons of goodies, right?"
"M-Master?"
A sinister smile crept across Jamie's face.
Vena gulped and retreated a step or two.
"C-can I not go...?"
Jamie replied brightly.
"Nope."
As the saying went: Rip the iron horns off while you're at it.
The departure date was set.
Sears, learning the truth, clung to Jamie and sobbed.
"Separated from my son for so long?! I can't bear it, dear!"
Minimum stay in the Magic Realm: three years.
Could stretch indefinitely—easily over ten.
Jamie awkwardly patted her back with a smile.
"I'll visit sometimes. And write letters."
"Waaah, my baby, I can't send my baby awaaay..."
Come to think, he'd never been apart from his mother Sears for long—father Welton Count aside.
Three or four days at most.
Now, two years minimum, ten-plus maximum. Not forever, but no more daily life together.
"How can you send off an 8-year-old?!"
"Calm down, dear."
"You're the worst! How could you not consult me?!"
"I'm sorry about that. But Jamie's will comes first, no?"
"But..."
Sears looked at her son.
When had her tiny infant grown into such a sturdy boy?
She hugged him again, weeping silently this time.
"Waaah, o-oppaaa, don't gooo!"
Now it was Sara.
Listening quietly, she hadn't grasped details but caught that Jamie was leaving.
"I'll visit. Letters too."
"Uwaaaaaah!"
After soothing his sister more, Jamie wiped sweat with relief.
He'd expected this, but it was overwhelming.
The count faced this daily. Sympathy welled up—a sigh escaped.
Yet oddly...
'Tomorrow, I'm gone from here.'
No more seeing his family daily.
'Strange feeling.'
He'd thought it'd bring relief.
Not quite.
Jamie gently held his crying sister, stroking her hair.
Next time, she'd be bigger.
Kids grow fast.
'...Gotta write often.'
An uncharacteristic thought.
And the day of departure arrived.