Battle Without Help -1-
After the duel ended, Mikhail brooded in the darkness over his own mistakes.
—Stop it, senior. If I'd just swung my sword a little faster back then, wouldn't the outcome have been different? He clenched his fists, lost in that thought.
It had been a battle where he'd gained so much. Explosive growth in such a short time. Meeting the empire's greatest swordmaster as his teacher. For Mikhail, it was a fight with nothing to lose.
There was no penalty he had to bear. In fact, he might have been the biggest beneficiary of this duel—maybe even more than Hanna. There was nothing to regret.
But Mikhail had locked himself away in the darkness, relentlessly hounding himself.
"Why did I do that? Why...!"
"If I'd focused from the start, I could've won easily. If I'd dodged those minor attacks and stayed calm, I wouldn't have lost."
"Why... why..."
Mikhail felt wronged. Not because of some petty grudge over losing to a junior. It was because he couldn't glimpse that unseen past or confirm if that child had survived. He'd lost due to his own shortcomings.
Mikhail was desperate. He'd begged Ricardo on his knees for news of his friend Lee Min-hyuk's survival. He'd even said his own body didn't matter—just let him win, please.
But Ricardo, oblivious to his turmoil, had replied coldly.
—You know it yourself. You can't win with that body.
He knew the gap in skill better than anyone, having experienced it firsthand. Hanna was stronger than him. That's why it stung even more.
Because he'd grown and trained just as hard as she had. If he'd avoided even a moment's carelessness, if he'd minded those trivial wounds, victory might have been his.
He hated his own incompetence.
"Please..."
Mikhail prayed.
"Please, just give me one more chance."
Let him redo the quest he couldn't fulfill. He'd do anything if granted that. But no quest appeared before him.
Just endless, pitch-black darkness shrouded his vision. Clutching his aching heart, he tried to soothe it with dull thumps.
"Please..."
Mikhail's darkness stretched on.
Late at night in the magic department's training ground.
"Damn it...!"
Alone in the training ground, Ruin spat curses at the dummy that refused to fall.
"Why the hell...!"
The straw dummy, struck by Ruin's magic, stood firm as ever. Barely singed, it mocked him. Ruin conjured another spell from his hand and fired it off, but nothing changed.
"Damn it...! Damn it...! Damn it...!"
Ever since Hans stole his talent, darkness had descended on Ruin.
"Why won't it work?!"
"Why the fuck not?!"
"Fuck. It worked fine before. Why now?!"
The ability that let him shine, the power he'd thought eternal—it was gone. Now he was treated like a useless fraud.
At this rate, he'd sink to the lower ranks in the upcoming tournament. He'd always mocked the weaklings, telling them not to even try without talent. Now he'd eat those words, along with all the scorn and ridicule.
"Fuck!"
Ruin hurled his water bottle to the ground in frustration at problems that wouldn't budge.
Crash! It shattered, water spilling out. Grinding his teeth at the sight, Ruin seethed.
Everything was falling apart. His relationship with Yuria. His magic. His friendships. Nothing was going right.
This sudden downfall was a weight too heavy for him to bear. The Tower Lord said he'd find a way, but Ruin knew it wouldn't happen overnight. He couldn't pin his hopes on that.
Until now, he'd deluded himself into thinking he was extraordinary. Even without a unique ability, his brains and skill would outshine others.
"What genius of the century? I can't even cast a proper fireball now."
Except for one person.
Ruin clenched his fist, bowed his head, and recalled the old memory.
—I'll crush you today.
—Shut up. Be quiet.
—Today I'll beat you and take top spot...
—Shut the fuck up.
The black-haired mage with a savage temper who looked down on everyone. Ruin had thought her the first mage he could never beat.
The Tower Lord had given him dreams of catching up someday, but she was a prodigy his age.
He still remembered it vividly. Collapsing before the summon she conjured. Just one arm manifesting, and he was powerless against it. That day, he couldn't even look her in the face.
Overwhelming talent. Her birthright. Her mana reserves. Her magical aptitude—all in realms he couldn't fathom.
He never wanted to feel that again, that utter helplessness. Yet soon, he'd feel it from the very people he'd scorned. The injustice burned him.
"Why does all this shit only happen to me?"
Ruin muttered into the quiet night breeze.
"I've lived hard too. Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Spitting his grievances into the wind, he kept firing spells. Whipping himself relentlessly, begging for his old glory to return.
An hour passed, then two. As his mana bottomed out, Ruin let out a hollow laugh at the toppled dummy.
"Fuck."
No answer.
Darkness was closing in on Ruin. A darkness he couldn't dispel alone, slowly devouring him.
The same time. Back at the lady's mansion, I wore a pleasant smile as I poured tea for the man seated beside me.
"Here, have some."
"This is holy water."
"Shut up and drink."
Hans gazed reverently at the tea I'd poured, offering a prayer.
"Thank you for today's daily bread."
His clasped hands and pious pose made my face heat up, but to Hans, whom I hadn't seen in a while, I smiled and offered a brief thanks for his hard work.
He'd handled the mansion's security while we were away.
"You did well, Hans."
"Protecting the holy site is the duty of the faithful."
"Decided on the fanatic act now?"
"I'm no fanatic. The god sits idle, but the one I believe in brings me gains."
"Sigh..."
I shook my head and shut my mouth. Arguing further might warp my sanity too.
More importantly, I needed to ask what had happened in our absence. Setting down my teacup, I opened cautiously.
"Did you feed Gomtangi properly?"
"Yes."
"Any visitors while I was gone?"
"None."
"Good."
Nothing had gone wrong. I'd worried about thieves, but the villainess's mansion still lacked appeal. Thanks to her name, it stayed safe. She truly was beyond the world's easy grasp.
After chatting idly with Hans for a while, I tossed him a small question.
"How's the academy brainwashing going?"
"Pardon?"
"Not just you—there are other heretics infiltrating the academy."
At the mention of his unclean past, Hans clamped his mouth shut. It was tough to dredge up.
But that was part of why I'd made him mine. Smiling faintly, I pressed.
"Isn't there?"
"Haha... You know everything. What are you...?"
"Shh. Just tell me."
"Understood."
I nodded, pleased at his compliance, and lifted my teacup. Hans fiddled with his, speaking carefully.
"While I was there, recruitment at the academy stalled. Security tightened, and the students' zeal for reporting was fierce."
"Fair enough. But it's still progressing?"
"Yes. Though we haven't snagged a single one yet."
"Hmm..."
Having read the novel, I knew how this played out. I hadn't asked out of mere curiosity; I didn't care for the results.
The heretics' recruitment had failed. Which meant one incident would occur: one of the infiltrated archbishops getting exposed to students.
Simple, really. Exploiting a student's weakness with sly whispers, only to get thoroughly busted.
With the tournament approaching, the archbishop struck then and got caught immediately—no fatalities.
Plenty of injuries, sure.
I planned to leave this entirely to the protagonists. They needed experience handling heretics without my meddling. Harsh, but a bit of painful trial would do.
Mikhail had grown. Yuria too. They could tangle with it now.
Winning was impossible, but like in the novel, the Tower Lord's aid would see them through. And Ruin would grow in the process.
As I sipped my tea with a small smile, Hans ventured a question.
"May I ask something?"
"Sure. Two, even."
"Aren't you worried Ruin might learn black magic? He'd be dangerous if he did."
I chuckled softly, replying with certainty.
"He can't."
"Pardon?"
"Ruin can't learn black magic."
"What do you... Last time you said his pride wouldn't let him."
I set down my empty cup, brushing off his concern.
"That was just talk. This is the real reason."
I dropped a sugar cube into Hans's cup with a smile.
"Ruin's body can't handle black magic from the start."
Grinning slyly, I added,
"I made sure of that."
When taking something, best eliminate loose ends. Though if he tried anyway, the mental shock might be huge. Aiming to fall, only to be rejected by corruption itself...
Better not dwell.