The Levitating Scribble
In the end, I put off the invitation to the capital.
The North hadn't been fully stabilized yet—that was the main reason.
Instead, I decided to send a reply about the levitation magic that was the whole point of the Golden Light Magic Tower's invitation in the first place.
"Hmm…."
"Are you really sure it's okay to reveal the formula…?"
As I mulled over my wording with the quill pressed horizontally against my lips, Kian—who'd been hovering anxiously at my side—finally spoke up.
He hadn't sat still for a second while I was writing, pacing back and forth the whole time.
"Ah, you're so restless."
"But Professor, isn't that your personal magic…?"
Kian kept trying to dissuade me in his urgent tone.
His point was that a mage's personal spell—something they'd developed themselves—was a symbol of their greatness, and it was customary not to share it with outsiders.
What kinda nonsense is that?
"Yeah? And?"
"If it's good magic, you use it, I use it—what's the problem?"
The transportation rights using this spell were already monopolized by the North anyway.
Even if there were leftovers, they'd just be for personal convenience, so it didn't matter to me one bit.
"It's fine, so just chill out already."
"Still…."
I ignored Kian and kept scribbling away.
The contents were the magic's principles and formula.
And for a demonstration, I cast levitation magic right on the letter itself.
"There! Give this to the butler!"
"Y-Yes… Understood…."
Why did he look more upset about me sharing my own magic than I did?
After Kian left my room, I glanced outside and saw the sun already dipping low on the horizon.
The victory celebration party was about to start soon.
No wonder my shoulders were killing me after three hours of agonizing over that first sentence.
"Ughhh—!"
I stretched out long and hard, loosening up the tension.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Meetings at the Golden Light Magic Tower were usually held once every two months, barring exceptional circumstances.
And those exceptions? Well, this was one of them.
"Is this the letter in question?"
The Elmaster—late to the meeting as usual—asked with her innocently beaming face.
A single sheet of paper had come hurtling through the Magic Tower's window at breakneck speed.
Now it floated in midair at the center of the conference room's massive round table.
North is super busy so I gotta decline the invite.
Instead, here's the formula for that magic you asked about......
It was filled with crooked, childish scrawl—like a kid's doodles.
The Magic Tower mages, faced with the letter's ruthless delivery method and its absurdly short, juvenile contents, all shared the exact same thought as if by prior agreement.
Her realm… is profoundly beyond us.
Writing always reflects the author's personality, after all.
Did her eccentric nature come from her lofty realm, or did her realm twist her personality?
No way to know which came first—but one fact was crystal clear.
All powerful mages were, to some degree, a little off.
Thus, this mysterious mage—Kian's master—had to be a mage of the utmost noble realm.
There wasn't a shred of doubt about it.
"Whoa… The formula's detailed to a fault! What a paragon of virtue."
The Elmaster's eyes sparkled as she raised her voice in excitement.
Her tone was bright and chirpy, like a kid's.
"So, did you give it a try?"
"Yes, I did attempt it, but…."
The Magic Tower elder—with his long white beard—tried replicating the spell from the letter once more.
"Hng…!"
A sharp grunt escaped the white-haired old man's lips.
For a brief instant, the crystal orb floated in the air.
Success in lifting it—but the orb wobbled unstably, shaking wildly.
"Ooh!!"
As the Elmaster let out a short gasp of admiration, the madly spinning orb plummeted to the floor.
"…As you see, maintaining the spell is impossible."
The elder panted, eyeing the shattered fragments.
He was an imperial mage, with the longest tenure after the Elmaster herself—a mage acknowledged by all as exceptional.
Even he couldn't sustain it with the formula right in front of him, so naturally, a thread of doubt arose in the room.
Did they really reveal every part of the formula?
Even if they'd hidden some crucial core, no one could blame this nameless mage.
Releasing even a fragment of a personal spell's formula was a monumental act of generosity.
They understood that rationally, but couldn't quite suppress the petty suspicion nagging at their hearts.
Just as that doubt hardened into conviction—
"Let me take a quick look."
The Elmaster reached out and snatched the letter from the table's center.
"Hm…."
Her thoughtful hum dragged on for an eternity.
During that time, the Magic Tower mages burned with impatience.
A mage's essence is that of an explorer.
They weren't sure the formula was complete, couldn't fully comprehend it—but it was still dazzlingly beautiful.
Formulas that followed nature's laws yet seemed to defy them. That broke down elements. That wrung the brain to its limits.
They wanted to see more.
As that thirst peaked, the Elmaster finally spoke.
"Aha. You made a little mistake just now."
"A mis…calculation?"
"Yes! Line 71, sixth formula—you didn't transcribe it exactly."
Unlike the elder biting his lip in shame, the Elmaster's lips curved into a spotless, innocent smile.
"And you skipped line 112 entirely, line 120 too, and next…."
"I get it, I acknowledge my error."
In the end, a drop of fresh blood trickled from the elder's lips onto the table.
"Yes! Keep at it!"
Her words—scolding the Tower's power player like a child—were dizzyingly bold, but silence was their only option.
At the same time, a strange anticipation bloomed among the other mages beyond the elder's hush.
"So, if we just copy the formula from the letter perfectly… we can replicate it?"
Hope for conquering the skies, untamed by man.
A young mage, unable to contain his surging curiosity, asked the Elmaster cautiously yet desperately.
"Of course."
Her tone was firm.
"Th-Then, Tower Master, could you demonstrate…?!"
"Me?"
Now her tone was baffled.
"You just said… the formula is complete…."
"That's separate from this. How am I supposed to handle natural mana?"
Firm once more.
Elmaster, master of the Golden Light Magic Tower.
Natural mana—the words from the empire's greatest mage.
"Natural… mana?"
"Yes. Nothing else makes sense. Human mana reserves alone couldn't sustain permanent levitation—the math doesn't even work."
Permanence. She'd pierced the core of Ruen's magic.
"Then… how do we handle natural mana…?"
"No idea! Touching unstable mana usually kills you outright."
The Elmaster spoke plain truth.
The method to refine that ultra-unstable natural mana threatening the critical threshold via breath—that was why mana cores had been invented since ancient times.
"Hmm…."
The Elmaster, stroking her chin in solitary thought, suddenly sprang from her seat.
"Well, I'll be off then. No idea when I'll return, so don't wait up."
"W-Where are you—"
They'd already waited four hours for the perpetually tardy Elmaster.
All they'd gained from that wait was the dismal answer that replicating the magic was impossible.
"It's a secret!"
With a childlike giggle, the Elmaster fled the conference room.
All that remained in her wake was the letter she hadn't returned—and her vanishing trail.
"Sniff sniff."
The Elmaster sniffed the letter's scent, detecting the lingering afterecho of its embedded mana.
"This direction, huh."
Her platinum hair whipped in the wind.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Amid the chaotic jumble of tables, burly men slammed their fists down, roaring themselves hoarse.
"Drink! Drink!"
Gulp, gulp.
They hoisted oak barrels whole, pouring icy beer straight down their gullets.
"Kuh… One shot!!"
"Ruen…?"
I turned at the familiar voice calling my name.
My vision was a total blur—couldn't make out a thing.
Forcing my brows together to focus on one spot, I finally made out a hazy golden blonde glimmering through the torchlight.
"Ah, Boss!"
"Hey… Aren't you drinking a bit much?"
Man, what a buzzkill nag.
"Ehehe… Whatever, Boss—you drink up too!"
I flicked my finger. Telekinesis.
A stream of bright yellow beer arced through the air, assaulting Arwen's mouth mercilessly.
"Guh, glrk…."
"Ahahahahaha!"
Laughing till my gut hurt, I slapped the table in front of me, then Kian's shoulder alternately.
"Hey, I am drinking…."
"Shut it!"
Arwen's pale face flushed beet red in no time.
The grand duke of the North, and booze hits her that hard? Useless.
"Whoa, our mage is a real wild one!"
"Damn straight… We're North folk, ain't we?!"
I rolled up my sleeve and struck a muscle pose.
Not a scrap of muscle—just smooth, squishy biceps.
Like freshly pulled rice cakes, these white arms of mine.
"Huh. Where'd they go…."
They were definitely there before…?
Probably just the booze messing with me. Yeah.