Celestial Magic -2-: Unlike Holy Magic
White Magic differed from Holy Magic. Healing wounds and buffs. The basic abilities—strong against undead, granting beneficial effects to allies—were the same, but unlike Holy Magic, Celestial Magic boasted superior efficiency in battles against people.
Holy power stemmed from a god's love for humanity, rendering it nearly useless in human combat. Celestial Magic, however, was something else entirely.
The very name Celestial Magic made you feel chosen. In the novel's latter half, it was the fateful encounter Ruin stumbled upon by chance in an ancient library. After his crushing defeat to Hans. After his master, the Tower Lord, perished. When he was mentally at his breaking point, this magic appeared like a miracle.
It was Ruin's ultimate technique. The foundation that birthed his moniker, the White Flame Mage, in the story's climax.
A power he gained after maturing mentally. After learning patience over rage. After blooming through countless failures. That was one of the serendipitous boons destined for Ruin.
The current Ruin was worlds apart from his novel counterpart. Maybe because this was the early-to-mid arc, but he seemed so much younger and more lacking. The late-game Ruin had been different.
The novel's Ruin, as a supporting male lead, had his charms. Not my type—I couldn't stand him—but I remembered him doing some pretty cool shit regardless.
The novel's Ruin was cooler, more suave around Yuria. Sleek with a touch of decadence, brimming with confidence from knowing his own genius, yet never one to bully others. And his temper wasn't this foul back then.
Of course, that's the Ruin from the mid-to-late novel. In the early parts, his role wasn't that big. More precisely, it ramped up after Yuria's upcoming kidnapping incident.
From then on, whether he'd finally grown up or not, he carried a vibe totally unlike now. A bit more solemn, temper still nasty, but like a lamb reining it in when Yuria told him to hold back.
Maybe things started shaking up once a brilliant guy like me showed up. The novel never delved deep into his rivalry with the lady, after all. Sure, it was mentioned, but I don't recall him snapping or bristling at her like this.
Maybe the fragmented glimpses in the novel played tricks, but the Ruin I knew from the story looked a bit different from this one. More deficient. More hot-headed. More childish.
Of course, it could be because I'm living the unwritten parts firsthand, or maybe from Yuria's perspective, it hits different than how I see it. Same with Mikhail.
To me, they look like immature kids gripped by their lacks, but in the novel, they're portrayed as resolute and badass. Probably just a matter of viewpoint, I mused.
"This is why being too nosy causes problems. Should've let him roll in the mud."
I'd tried hard not to derail the plot, pruning carefully, but it hadn't gone as planned. A twinge of regret lingered.
And the ranking matches... Even I thought I'd gone too far on Ruin. No excuses there.
Coming to the academy had me buzzing. Like, what, I could legally beat up a novel protagonist? The reins snapped.
-Thrilling...!
-Stop...!
-The best...!
-Quit hitting me, you psycho fuck!
-This is possession...?!
-It hurts! You bastard!
Yeah, even I knew that was overkill. With a hollow chuckle, I pulled a dust-caked tome from the shelf in the mansion's basement.
This space was known only to the lady and me—a forbidden basement where no one else was allowed. The flickering lantern light pierced the gloom as I held it up to the book in my hand.
"Is this it...? Yeah, looks right."
Caked in dust, bound in monster hide, it was an unremarkable book that screamed boring contents, hiding its presence amid the grime.
"Never thought I'd end up using this."
The ancient grimoire [Dance of Infinite Light]. In the novel, it propelled Ruin to grand mage status, setting him apart from other wizards.
I'd swiped it young, just in case, never imagining I'd wield it myself.
Grimoires typically held magical knowledge and unique rituals tied to their powers. Learning from a teacher was fine, but the vast insights from long-dead mages in these tomes were irreplaceable.
Even one with basic spells like Firestorm fetched a high price. An ancient grimoire like this? Astronomical value—beyond mere money.
Standing before it, I pondered. Was it right for me to use this?
I'd grabbed it figuring I'd rather have it than let Ruin, but could I even draw out its full potential?
Snatching Mikhail's destined manuals or weapons might be one thing, but me—a magicless hack—using it? Probably not ideal.
This grimoire vanished upon inheritance, tricky bastard that it was.
"Sigh... Tough call."
Objectively, I had no magic talent. Poor at computations, visualizations. That's why I joined the swordsmanship department, not magic.
Why I clashed with Mikhail.
I'd hunted opportunities, studied spells, but... no knack for it. Gave up. Better that way.
Master one sword, and I could rampage. Useful against unpredictable heretic fights too. Swords outshone black magic in duels.
Now, a pure swordsman like me agonizing over learning magic.
Too wasteful to give away. But handing it to Ruin chafed.
Getting stronger was good, but better to someone who could maximize it.
The plot snag from its subtitle? I'd pruned heretic buds since childhood—should cover it.
If Ruin couldn't handle it here, it wasn't the boon's fault; he'd just slacked.
Hans aside, most future villains got nixed or rerouted by kid-me.
If issues arose, I'd step in. No need to overthink.
No conclusion yet, I mulled till the lantern's wick burned low. Wondering if there was anyone smart, trustworthy...
Quite a while passed. Then, overhead, the dawn herald blared.
-Air raid alert!!!!!
I smirked faintly.
'Found her.'
Barvo. Hated studying, but with peerless magical talent. Someone I'd welcome even if betrayed.
Olivia.
Thinking of the lady abed, I climbed the stairs.
*
"Lady."
The lady in bed rolled over to face me.
"Yeah?"
"A gift."
"Hm?"
Her brows twitched at the deep brown rectangular object. Rubbing sleepy eyes, she spread her arms wide with a grin.
"Chocolate!"
"No."
"Eh..."
At my firm denial, she eyed the worn grimoire with disinterest, dismissing the brown thing unworthy if not chocolate. She huffed.
This single book could build a chocolate palace, yet here we were. Sighing deeply, she vented her petty wish.
"I got excited thinking it was a huge chocolate."
"Better than that."
"Ricardo, you're exaggerating. Nothing beats chocolate in this world."
"..."
She stated it definitively.
"Don't need it. Give me something else."
I gave her a knowing smile.
"It's an amazing gift."
Bored now that it wasn't edible, she waved me off lazily.
"Books are boring."
"This one's super fun."
"More than the ones you gave me last time?"
She meant my private nighttime collection. How'd she know it was a series? Her savvy question hit home; conscience pricked, I clamped my mouth shut.
"Not that. It's a grimoire."
"A grimoire?"
Her eyes sparked with interest, then dulled as she rolled toward the window, sulking. Didn't wanna talk.
"I can't use magic."
"Wouldn't reading it be fun?"
"What's fun about reading stuff I can't use?"
She huffed again, yanking the blanket over her head, sulking hard.
A mage stripped of mana. Her brilliant talent wasted—I couldn't fathom her feelings. Talent surpassing all, even Ruin's.
Unable to wield it must've left a gaping void, a shock.
Still, selfishly, I hoped she'd read this grimoire. Just maybe.
Maybe it'd spark recovery of her lost mana. A miracle.
I barely knew its powers. Novel just said, "Gained wisdom amid white light." One line.
What it did exactly? Unread, unknowable.
Clinging to that slim hope, I offered it.
"Not reading it."
Her pout dropped the curtain.