The Unqualified Person -3-

Ruin had always thought of Hans as a good friend. He was the only one who had reached out to Ruin after he was adopted by the Tower Lord and struggled to adapt to the magic tower.

"What's your name?"

"What do you care?"

"I'm Hans. No family name!"

"Who asked you to introduce yourself?"

"...You're awfully prickly. But that's fine! We can get close from now on."

"What the hell?"

He was one of the few friends who put up with Ruin's foul temper. They had shared over ten years together in the magic tower, weathering hardships side by side. Both orphans from similar backgrounds, both loving magic—they naturally grew close.

Hans had been demoted from direct disciple due to his stagnant magic skills, but Ruin thought they maintained a friendship where they could chat and vent stress at the academy.

The day before Hans went missing, he showed up at Ruin's room with a bottle of liquor. Ruin found it odd since Hans never drank much, but he brushed it off.

"Ruin... I think I might quit magic."

"What the fuck, you idiot? What're you gonna eat if you quit?"

"Just... Every time I'm compared to you and the others, I wonder if this path is even for me. No matter how hard I try, it feels like I can never escape the lower class."

"Cut the bullshit and keep at it. Graduate the academy, and you can get a job in a decent house. Won't the old man pull strings for you?"

"...Yeah, maybe."

"Try giving it your all, like me. I haven't just been slacking."

"...Give it my all?"

"Yeah. Grind your teeth and push."

"Even staking my life?"

"Idiot. Of course."

After spilling his heart out, Hans left Ruin's room looking refreshed.

"Ruin, you told me to."

He left those meaningful words behind. Ruin had no idea things would escalate like this. Not in the slightest.

The magic circle began to glow red. The corpses piled atop it melted into black liquid, becoming fuel for the casting. The black mana spewing from the circle clung to the caster, Hans.

To block the horrific darkness born of malice, Yuria poured out her holy power to suppress it, but her novice sacred energy couldn't halt the intricately crafted spell.

Hans had discovered this magic a year ago during dungeon training.

Kugugugugu...

With a majestic rumble shaking the earth, the screams of the sacrificed echoed from the magic circle.

A malice like needles piercing their skin weighed heavily on their shoulders. Mikhail shouted at Ruin.

"Ruin!"

"..."

"What are you doing? Get back here, quick!"

Mikhail's words didn't reach Ruin. It all felt like a lie. His friend, who couldn't even kill an ant, didn't look like someone capable of murder.

He couldn't believe the sight of his comrade standing at the altar's center, grinning madly.

The introverted, timid Hans was long gone.

As Hans awakened to black magic, he cackled wildly, his face beaming with satisfaction at the surging power.

"There was an easy way to get strong, so why did I go the long way? No need to study annoying formulas and calculations, right?"

Ruin gritted his teeth and asked Hans.

"Hans, just one thing."

"Yeah?"

"All these people here... you killed them?"

Hans answered without hesitation.

"Yeah. We learn magic to kill people anyway, so what's the problem?"

Ruin's red orbs began to float, radiating scorching heat. One, two, three—countless fiery spheres.

Hans watched them curiously.

"Grown again? How far you gonna ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠go?"

"It's not growth. It's effort."

"Right, effort... I know all about that. Tried plenty myself."

Hans snapped his fingers with a click.

A black wave spread across the floor, and Ruin's orbs hissed and vanished.

Ruin's eyes trembled wide.

Hans spoke flatly to the stunned Ruin, like sharing a hard-earned philosophy.

"Ruin. The realm of talent and the realm of effort are totally different. No matter how long I holed up in the library, I couldn't catch up."

"Not like you, right? You said nothing's as easy as magic. You might think different."

Hans stared straight at Ruin, smirking ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bitterly as he approached until their noses nearly touched. Despite looking up due to his short stature, Hans didn't seem small after displaying overwhelming magic.

Standing before Ruin, Hans said,

"I've been rethinking my career path for a while."

"Since I lost my direct disciple spot...? Anyway, I had a lot on my mind. Wondered if this was my path, went through that stormy phase."

"But magic was fun? Casting spells with my own hands, getting praise from the Tower Lord—it felt amazing. But you ruined that."

Hans recounted his story calmly, in a voice near enlightenment, without resentment or complaint.

"So I was gonna quit."

Emotion crept into Hans's voice.

"No sign of progress—sticking with it seemed stupid. So I came to ask you, Ruin."

"..."

"Should I quit magic?"

Hans's black eyes wavered.

"But you said, 'Have you really given it your all?' So I did."

"Thanks to your advice, I succeeded, Ruin."

Madness filled Hans's eyes.

"Look, Ruin."

He gathered dark mana at his fingertips and showed it. Staring into Ruin's eyes, he declared he too could have talent now—not a mana-poor hack, but a true genius.

Ruin prepared his magic again. To stop his precious friend, to do what he could. Clenching his fists, he said,

"Still, you crossed the line."

"Line?"

As another red orb formed, Hans waved his hand, canceling it.

"Who draws that line? The goddess? You and Mikhail learned magic to kill too."

"No. We learned to protect people..."

"Stop living in a fantasy, moron."

Sighing deeply, Hans reached out toward Ruin.

"First time, so power control's tricky. Be careful."

"What?!"

With a shring, several black chains emerged from behind Hans. Floating ethereally, they shot like bullets at his gesture.

"Grab him."

The chains ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lashed out swiftly. Ruin turned to dodge, but they had long since coiled around his legs.

Charrlk.

His body slammed to the floor as they yanked tight.

"So easy. Why'd I agonize all this time?"

Hands in pockets, Hans strolled toward the fallen Ruin—just like Ruin used to swagger.

Ruin thrashed to escape, but the chains now bound hands and feet taut.

The black chains emanated eerie energy. As they tightened with a ch拉克, his mana drained away, and they squeezed harder.

"Hans, snap out of it...!"

"Why turn a sane guy crazy?"

Hans stomped Ruin's head.

"A mage trying close combat? That's crazy enough."

"Hans...!"

"Hold still. Told you, control's rough at first."

"Snap out of it!"

Mana fled through the chains. Absorbing it, they constricted fiercer.

Hans bent down, placing a hand on Ruin's head. Dark mana flowed from his touch as he muttered,

"Is this how it's done?"

Dark mana surged into Ruin. Hans pressed his hand to Ruin's head to steal his unique ability, Flame Letters.

A chill of dread made Ruin shudder.

"Aaaagh!!! Let go!"

"Hm... Kinda tricky."

"Let go!"

"Hold still. Steal something weird, and it's bad for you too. You gotta feel how I feel."

Hans's magic disrupted Ruin's circuits, seeking Flame Letters. As dark mana extended to claim it—

"Stop!"

A flashing blade—Mikhail's sword gleamed. He severed the chains binding Ruin in an instant, pulled the gasping Ruin behind him, and raised his sword at Hans.

Hans waved dismissively.

"Oh, Mikhail."

Countless black chains lunged at Mikhail, but he calmly swung his sword, slicing them.

Hans eyed Mikhail, smacking his lips.

"Tch... Want Mikhail's power too, but don't know his talent, so can't touch recklessly."

"Shut up."

"What, jealousy's a crime now?"

"I said shut up..."

Hans wrapped chains around his arm, forming a massive hand. Grinning brightly, he swung.

"One down first."

Craaang! Mikhail flew back. Hans muttered,

"Tch... Told you not to interfere."

Hans approached the fallen Ruin again, preparing Plunder once more.

"Hans!"

Yuria's tearful voice halted him. Hans looked up at her.

Their eyes met—hers steadfast even in despair. Familiar eyes, always full of hope. When despairing against Ruin's talent wall, she encouraged him: You can do it. One of Hans's few friends, remembered as a good person.

Yuria shouted at him, eyes wide open.

"This isn't you!"

"..."

Her eyes welled with tears, on the verge of crying. Hans felt a strange guilt.

"We read books in the library together, did assignments. Right? Is it tough? We'll help. Hang with us—you'll grow too."

"..."

Hans's expression darkened, a bitter smile forming.

"Too late, Yuria."

"No, Hans!"

Yuria clenched her fists, conveying her sincerity. We don't wanna fight. We're friends—let's find a way. Her warm words carried true heart.

"We're friends."

"...Yeah. Friends."

"You can stand again. If something's hard, I'll help."

Hans gave an awkward smile at her words.

"But Yuria."

"Y-Yeah...?"

Hans's face chilled.

"What can you even do?"

"Huh?"

"Can't do shit, so what help? Haven't done anything so far."

Yuria's face flushed with confusion.

Hans spoke coldly.

"Yuria, nothing come to mind on the way here?"

"H-Huh...?"

"Must be something."

With a trembling voice, Yuria said,

"What are you talking about?"

Hans shook his head, amused.

"When you were abandoned in the dungeon—remember?"

"What?"

"Yeah, Yuria. When you got ditched in the dungeon, you fled here."

Smirking, Hans told her,

"Thanks to you, I found this place. Anyway."

"Huh?"

"An ancient monster lives here. Over a century old."

Cracks spread across Yuria's face.

"What does that mean?"

Hans chuckled.

"Think you survived how?"

Suddenly, a blue window appeared before Yuria's eyes.

'...Huh?'

Yuria's time began to freeze.