The Dragon That Drinks Uranium (1)
The Dragon That Drinks Uranium (1)
Inside a carriage heading west.
Three girls sat within. Two of them, worn by the long journey, had already departed for dreamland.
Rote, who had been staring out the window with the others left alone, shook her head. It wasn't to stave off post-meal drowsiness. The problem was that she couldn't sleep at all.
Rote turned her gaze inward. The two girls, fast asleep with their shoulders leaning together, came into view.
The student drooling in her sleep was a girl named Frey Shelkerni. Shelkerni—a rare surname. At least, it was a family name she had never heard of within the Empire.
Frey was a girl of small stature. When they first met, she had introduced herself as a dwarf. She was a capable drinker, and her knowledge of transmutation ran deep.
Rote, who enjoyed learning from others, would ask Frey for help whenever she encountered something she didn't understand while studying earth magic. A can of beer was tuition enough.
Small in build, deeply versed in transmutation, and able to drink even the harshest liquor with ease. The girl was a carbon copy of every dwarven characteristic.
'Still, she's no dwarf.'
The dwarves had been driven to extinction by magic beasts long ago. At least several hundred years had passed since then. Even when Frey went around declaring herself a dwarf, no one took her seriously.
'An odd friend.'
Having finished her assessment of Frey, Rote shifted her gaze slightly.
Just then, a cool mountain breeze swept in through the window. Hair as black as ebony rippled gently in the wind. It was exactly where Rote was looking.
The girl before her eyes breathed softly, her hands clasped together. Rote had been listening to that distinctive breathing for over three months. It was a sound the girl often made when she wasn't getting proper sleep.
'Aether.'
The golden-eyed girl who had been her first-semester roommate.
Aether had passed the Tillet Magic Academy entrance exam as salutatorian. She had barely scraped by the practical without failing, but in turn, she had achieved an unprecedented perfect score on the written exam.
As if that weren't remarkable enough, one person had placed above her. Vermel, an elf exchange student from Kaurelia. Because Vermel and Aether had taken first and second place respectively, Rote had received a report card ranking third.
— Sister placed third? That's absurd. — You worked so hard!
The students from other houses who followed her, the family servants. Their reactions were all the same. Chewing over the words she had heard half a semester ago left a bitter aftertaste like this.
Wearing a wry smile, Rote looked at Aether, who was sleeping on the opposite seat.
'I envy you.'
A golden-eyed girl with a natural-born brain. Could a racial gap ever be bridged?
She herself had talent, of course. Her mana capacity was exceptional, and she always kept her grades near the top. The greatest talent among them, though, was probably that she had been born into a wealthy family.
That didn't mean she hadn't put in the effort. She trained on rainy days and snowy days alike. She swung a staff a hundred times more often than her peers and read every magic text in her father's library. The joints of her index and middle fingers had worn down from drawing scrolls.
She had especially honed fire magic until it became her specialty. So that one day, she might wield an ultimate fire magic that would surpass even House Haspelt.
Yet after enrolling in the academy, she had realized the world was filled with people more talented than herself.
'Honestly, I can't even muster jealousy.'
An overwhelming gap in theoretical knowledge. Unique Magic Art that had neutralized her own technique in an instant in actual combat.
That was why she felt admiration rather than jealousy.
Of course, Rote had first learned from her father that envy was a poor emotion. Count Saliere, who had withdrawn from factional strife and declared absolute neutrality, had always advised her and her elder brother to master their emotions.
— No matter what happens, you must never envy another.
Thanks to keeping that counsel etched in her heart, she had achieved much. Through the fire-magic theory she had asked Aether to teach her, she could now cast nearly eight hundred flame spells.
Not just any eight hundred—she had acquired that many in the span of three months. Considering how long it had once taken her to learn a single spell, it was a tremendous leap forward.
'Father's words were right.'
Rote had not made the wrong choice. She gazed at Aether and reminisced about times gone by.
The time they had developed Flare together. The time she had been on the brink of death from the Black Death, and Aether had nursed her with everything she had.
'I hope we can stay like this.'
She hoped they could remain together like this until graduation.
"Ah."
A mountain, sharply hewn as if cut by a blade, came into view beyond.
It was a spur of the mountain range named Pitchblende. It stretched out from the Elankaya Great Mountain Range in the north, cutting across the western border.
The sight of that mountain meant they had entered Saliere territory.
It was about time to wake her friends.
Rote shook the soundly sleeping Aether by the shoulder.
"Nnngh."
Aside from a briefly drawn-out groan, there was no particular reaction. A strange playfulness rising in her, Rote tried tapping Aether on the cheek this time.
'She won't wake up even like this.'
"Sen' me home..."
"...!!"
'That startled me...!'
She nearly felt her heart drop. She hadn't expected Aether to start talking in her sleep so suddenly.
In any case.
'Send her home?'
What did that mean?
Aether seemed to be searching for her hometown in her dream. If so, it didn't add up.
Summer vacation was a period when everyone could leave the capital and act freely. If she wished, Aether could return to her own hometown as well.
'Could there be some reason she can't go back?'
She didn't know where Aether's hometown was. She had guessed it might be the Elankaya Mountains, but that was only a supposition.
Still, if it were the case that unavoidable circumstances prevented her from returning home. If that was why she had fled the capital's murderous cost of living and come to the western region where Rote was staying.
'I'll treat her well.'
She was the lifesaver who had pulled her from the Black Death. After introducing her to her father, Rote intended to show her around the fortress if possible.
Rote shook the two of them again to wake them.
"Ughk."
Frey was the first to rise, letting out a strange noise. She wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve and blinked a couple of times.
Aether seemed to still be deep in slumber and didn't wake easily. Frey, gradually regaining her senses as she looked around, asked a question.
"Did we arrive?"
"Almost."
Frey peered outside. Her eyes went round.
**
Poke, poke, poke.
Who was it? The wretch who was disturbing my sweet sleep.
Poke, poke, poke.
It had been my cheek a moment ago; now it was my flank. Someone kept prodding at me. Considering the seating arrangement, there was only one person who would pull this stunt.
"Hey! Look at that!"
Sure enough. At the shorty's shout, my eyes reflexively opened. Beyond the window, a tall, pitch-black mountain loomed.
"That's Pitchblende Mountain! It's your first time seeing it, right?"
At Frey's words, a note of admiration escaped me. It was because the scale was larger than it had seemed.
Good. It didn't look like I'd be short on materials.
"Did you sleep well?"
I answered Rote's question by simply nodding.
"We'll arrive at the territory before long."
I stretched to ease my stiff body. A sound like gas bubbles escaping between cartilage—crack—rang out.
I had endured on two hours of sleep or less a week while holding secret meetings with Vermel. That had clearly worn out my body considerably. I had almost no memory of talking with Rote or Frey on the way here.
[Did you sleep well all that time? Your little wheezing noises were truly something special.]
A voice I hadn't heard in a while. It was a tone that resonated directly inside my skull, so a migraine swept over me. It was the voice of the hardcover book I strongly suspected the Goddess had bestowed upon me.
[So, what have you been up to for days, leaving me behind?]
The hardcover book addressed me in a sulky tone. It seemed quite put out by the fact that I had stuffed it away in a drawer since the end-of-term party.
Wow. A book was getting miffed just because I hadn't read it for a bit.
[You haven't learned a damn bit of the magic arts for returning to Earth, have you. I let it slide during the whole Black Death affair. But what have you been doing since then?]
What had I been doing? Well, that was.... No, better not to mention that.
[It's obvious anyway, isn't it. You went off to guzzle booze every chance you got, right? Do all academy students in your world spend their first year like that?]
Well, that was the charm of being a freshman. From the third year, commonly called the Death Year, it became a total lost cause.
Those looking for jobs had to start preparing then, and if you wanted to go to grad school, you had to fret over managing your class rank. Everyone found their place that way.
In my case, well. What did it mean to find my place here? Returning to my original world?
[Correct. Returning to your original world.]
Only then did the hardcover book answer in a slightly mollified tone.
Ah, right. This thing got angry when I didn't research magic arts. On the other hand, its speech mellowed if I pulled myself together to study.
What was it, a home-tutor?
Anyway, a progress check was in order. For the first time in a while, I opened the hardcover book and reviewed the tally of magic arts learned so far.
[◆ Progress]
[Fire Magic: 1011/1049]
I had progressed through most of the Fire Magic to start with.
[Water Magic: 421/992]
[Earth Magic: 578/1007]
[Air Magic: 160/824]
[Unclassified: 21/149]
The rest were all around there.
I hadn't been able to advance them all that much. If there was one thing I could be said to have held my ground on, it was that I had nearly finished Fire Magic.
Beyond that, it caught my eye that the number of Earth Magic types I still had to learn had increased by a couple, from 1005 to 1007. I had decidedly planned to take Water Magic slowly so I was still lacking there, but the number going up held a particular meaning.
Someone had created a new magic art. Whether it was an easy one to learn or a difficult one, it didn't matter.
This was a problem in its own way.
The faster I mastered the magic arts, the sooner the time it would take to return to Earth would shorten. On the flip side, the more I dawdled, the more new magic arts someone on the continent would create.
A magic art, once created and recorded, could not be deleted. It wasn't recognized as acquired until I discovered it by whatever means necessary and constructed its scroll.
[Do you understand now? The reason I told you to hurry wasn't for any other reason.]
Yeah.
This much was within my anticipated range. I had already prepared a second and third volume in case the number of magic arts to be acquired surged.
I opened the hardcover book for the first time in a while. Since I had switched off Invisible Mode, Rote the bookworm instantly focused on it.
"You're going to study here too?"
"I was just going to glance at it until we get off."
Rote asked Frey to switch seats. The shorty, who had no interest in the hardcover book, traded places with Rote without any complaint.
"Hmm."
It was fine for her to see.
I summoned the pen, an auxiliary function of the hardcover book. The mana required for the summoning was drawn from the book itself. I moved as if naturally pulling a pen from my hip pouch, so that Rote wouldn't notice.
The pen constructed in that way resembled one used for a tablet PC. This design didn't seem like it was from this world. Had it always been like that?
Either way, only with this pen could I use the write (-w) function on the hardcover book.
Just like then.
[Switching to Administrator Mode.]
[Establishing theoretical foundations to describe new magic arts here.]
I gazed at Pitchblende Mountain and began writing. Rote, who had been watching me do this for a while, opened her mouth to ask.
"Hey, what is a 'Teller-Ulam Design'...?"