Chapter 220
Chapter 220
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 220
Chapter Title: Lin, That's Not How You Use Magic
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I couldn't understand the idea of infusing magic with emotion at first.
No, even now, I wonder if I truly do.
When the dean auntie taught me magic, there were times I thought I'd perfectly calculated the spell, only to fail at casting it.
"Magic is about pouring your heart into it."
Even now, if I close my eyes, I can vividly recall it—like cherry blossoms in full bloom on a spring day, so close I could touch them.
"It's not hard. Slowly, calmly."
Her gentle smile, her scent, her breath, the warmth of her hand overlapping mine.
"Want to try it one more time?"
That day, half in doubt, I infused my magic with emotion for the first time.
A shy feeling I could never express in words, the desire to make the dean happy—I poured it all into the spell.
And that day, magic responded to me for the first time in my life. That miracle I encountered changed my path forever.
"See? You can do it."
I confess that my title as the youngest grand archmage wasn't born from exceptional talent alone, but built upon that profound teaching.
And I hope Obin is feeling that same light and wonder I did back then.
I hope this lesson marks a turning point in his life as a mage.
With that prayer in my heart, I smiled quietly.
"See? You can do it."
Light flowed from the flute, creating new ripples that spread through the forest.
Like the chime of wind bells on a spring day, or the soft sunlight filtering onto your face during a pleasant nap—its faint, lingering fragrance.
The round melody took shape as pure beams of light, a miraculous breeze seeping into the abyss-bound nature, souls, and bodies.
"……?!"
The power of the Heavenly Wave Flute, said to carry the voices of the gods, overwhelmed the abyss, as wielded by Grand Archmage Rigwind.
Twisted, broken bones melted away, along with the primal flesh draped over them like shed skin. Gently caressed by tender hands.
Those trapped in the primal plague collapsed one by one atop the pooling remnants of their husks.
"No, how can this be……."
And naturally, that power reached Arif Pester, on the verge of turning primal.
The grotesque force twisting his body vanished, replaced by fresh, warm vitality restoring his flesh and soul completely.
As Arif blinked in disbelief, Obin stopped playing and leaped into his arms.
"Ha, Ha, Haraberji……!"
Arif hesitated, reaching to embrace his grandson, then checked his own hands— not a trace of the plague remained.
Watching Arif hold the grandson he'd thought dead, sobbing quietly, Setsnen tilted his head.
Valencidis approached, his demeanor oddly subdued.
"I'm truly not fit to be a teacher, Rain Ludwig."
To hear such a voice from this guy— the world really is full of surprises. I wanted to tease him, but the mood wasn't right.
"Valencidis, do you think there's such a thing as a perfect teacher from the start?"
"……!"
"Teaching is part of learning too. Today, you learned what you're lacking. So next time, you can guide him better, right?"
I don't yet have the right to speak like her, and I doubt I'll ever measure up in my lifetime.
But I said it anyway.
In this situation, if I'd spoken those words, the dean surely would have responded just like that.
"So no need to whine already."
I punched his shoulder lightly and grinned.
Three hundred years ago, that day planted a new heart in me— the heart of Atlante's dean.
I believe that heart still guides my path with truth even today.
* * *
"The revival of the Primal Kingdom?"
When the long explanation ended, the arrogant Jenyas asked in disbelief.
"Is that even possible?"
"Of course it is."
Elamas replied while pressing his hand to the hero's forehead, injecting new thoughts.
"The capital of Solond Kingdom, where Sun Castle Baraga stands—this was originally the site of the Primal Kingdom's capital. More precisely, they built a new kingdom atop the buried one underground."
"……!"
"Rigwind founded a kingdom in the heart of the Republic at the gods' request... to suppress that kingdom's abyss."
Rigwind had cast a massive sealing ritual around the Primal Kingdom.
For ages, his descendants guarded the seal as this kingdom's protectors.
Only those inheriting the "Great Will," passed down through the royal bloodline, could control the barrier.
"Blood alone isn't enough, nor are relics. A true royal must genuinely wish for it."
That's why, after all their efforts, they placed a mere child princess— too young to even come of age— on the throne as a puppet.
They'd won the trust of half... no, perhaps two-thirds of the court officials.
Impossible for the tiny faction left to properly advise the princess.
"Everything was going smoothly until this threw a wrench in my plans."
Elamas clicked his tongue, grabbing the hero's forehead roughly in annoyance.
"I was planning to clean up personally once it was all over."
No, no need to get worked up.
I never expected anything from a so-called hero anyway— just trash like all other humans.
Soon, the kingdom would awaken. Its military might would become my own power.
'And... when Hyrkan, king of the Primal Kingdom and one of Neigalas's five kin, awakens, the necromantic power will multiply several times over.'
Then, even dragonkin could be perfectly revived. For now, my power is weak, limited to flesh alone.
"......Punishing human arrogance by reviving the Primal Kingdom— isn't that a bit excessive?"
Arha (Number One), Snir, raised an objection to Elamas's new world plan.
Elamas bristled that Snir, of all people, wasn't fully on board.
Snir was originally a paladin— called holy knights by humanity— wielding the holy lance.
Paladins guarding apostles were always selected from the era's greatest warriors, and Snir had protected Elamas to the very end.
Paladin.
The pinnacle of force created by elves in rebellion against the dragonkin selecting fake warriors only from worthless humans.
"You don't reason with mad dogs; you beat them with sticks. Nothing else works on them."
"……."
"How many more must die before they wise up? How much longer must I wait? Do those things that killed my father seem matured after 500 years?"
Elamas's voice rose.
Before tensions peaked, Snir bowed his head, as if to say he meant no offense.
Perhaps sensing the odd tension amid his irritation, Elamas bit his lip.
"Somehow, I have a bad feeling. I can't let years of work crumble now. No, I won't."
If that mute prince met the puppet princess, it would all be for naught.
The princess followed the prince well; if he told her never to heed my words...
Shuddering in frustration, he heard a commotion outside. Palace guards rushed about, reporting to superiors.
"......Hundreds of thousands— perhaps a million— citizens have surrounded the capital!"
"They say if we don't give them food, they'll raze everything...!"
"......Convene the privy council immediately. Send for the ministers."
Heh, finally, the chaos begins...
Elamas smirked in satisfaction, clenching his necromantic hand.
"Don't let those scum into the capital. Understood? Kill them all. I won't tolerate more variables."
At that, the hero— slumped like a sack— slowly rose. His eyes were doll-like, pale and emotionless.
"Yes, I shall obey."
* * *
Prince Obin had no time for a long tearful reunion with his grandfather.
"All the survivors who can move are flocking to the capital right now."
A young man, freed from the primal curse, had said so.
"Even when I was there, there were endless crowds... I don't know how it is now. The princess wouldn't open the gates, so countless starved to death."
That's why the youth sought out Vanirdo.
The king lived burdened by curses and resentment, but the queen, who truly loved her people, was adored by them.
But Vanirdo had already fallen to the plague, and...
"See? You're alive after all, Your Highness. I believed. How could the son of that queen abandon us? The officials claim you fled, but..."
The youth clutched Obin's hand, mumbling blankly.
"My family is in the capital. They're all too ill to come, so I came alone..."
Obin didn't brush off the hand as rude or unpleasant.
"They've probably already died of the plague there. It's all over now. Over..."
Instead, he gripped it tightly and shook his head firmly.
"No, it's not over. I... I'll fix everything. So don't worry."
Something in the prince's voice and bearing— a warmth evoking the late queen— brought tears bursting from the youth's eyes.
"Distilling the essence from all these testimonies..."
Watching, Valencidis sighed and rubbed his chin.
"It means time is far more pressing than we thought."
If the citizens' riot was engineered... to draw the kingdom's last survivors into the ritual's range...
Once activated, it's all over. No chance to stop or weaken it midway.
Valencidis's palm grew slick with cold sweat.
"We can't even wait for Rem and Bart to join us. Even heading straight to the kingdom now, I'm not sure we'll make it in time."
Miria pressed her temples regretfully.
"We came for supplies anyway, but especially horses..."
"What's the use complaining? They ate even the rats during the long siege. Enough grousing— let's move."
Arif called back Rain, who was leading the way.
"Hold on."
In his hand was an elegantly noble helm wheel.
"Heading north like this leads to the Meia River. You're outsiders, but you know of the Meia, right?"
"Of course. It's famed for Crescent Moon Meian of the Star of Creation, one of the [Ones Who Came], purifying its foul waters with prayer."
"Follow it upstream, and you'll reach the capital faster than by land. This is the helm of our house's heirloom speedboat, 'Golden Storm'— docked at the pier."
"Rain, after all this time, will the ship still be safe?"
"Don't worry. It's protected by a powerful barrier; without this helm, no one can pilot the 'Golden Storm.'"
The issue was the 32 oars.
Fewer than fifty in Vanirdo had regained their senses, and none had the strength to row.
Despite Arif's worried sigh, Rain and Valencidis exchanged knowing smirks.
"Thirty-two, huh? Think you can handle it? Might be too much for you? If it is, say so. I can't use telekinesis, but I can assist with Bell Quirius."
"You're underestimating me."
No sooner had Valencidis's magic circle shatter than countless debris rose into the air, drawn by an invisible force.
Telekinesis.
With this ability and Valencidis's skill, powering the ship explosively with 32 oars was no problem.
"The ship should be fine, but is it really okay for us to leave like this?"
"Vanirdo won't fall to plague twice. We can't let it. This place holds the queen's and prince's memories."
"Memories... I see."
A spring breeze of scenery brushed past Rain's eyes: a twilight-dusk field of blooming dusk flowers.
Rista smiling brightly at me.
I'm going to meet you now. If that's really you... A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"Still, I'll set a barrier before we go. It should hold for two days."
"You've indebted us greatly. And we can't even repay you properly..."
"We'll talk after everything's done. Anyway, I'm just heading to the capital for my own business, so no need to worry."
His unusually cheerful voice hid an indescribable sorrow.
Miria, cradling the abyss-sensitive Setsnen, gazed worriedly at Rain.
If he's truly Lin... that heart must be on the verge of shattering, too painful.
'I know better than anyone, since my sister was in that state.'
And the one who saved Milea unnie from that eternal mire...
"Save the kingdom with your own hands, Prince."
Finally, Arif gripped Obin's shoulders, locking eyes.
"Forgive this useless old man for not going. I want to, but I'd only be a burden."
"I-it's fi-fine!"
"Your noble resolve to charge into the jaws of death for your people— the queen must be proud in the heavens."
Arif seemed calmly distant, but he pulled Obin into a tight embrace, tears flowing.
"Ah, gods, why burden this child with such cruelty..."
Obin seemed to sob in his arms, but the prince gently pushed back and shook his head.
"It's not a burden. It's my duty."
He smiled softly.
Even in a situation where smiling shouldn't be possible.
"Mother and I were that close. So it's fine. Not hard at all. I'll be right back, Grandfather."
Just as his mother had done for him, just as Rain had for Aki during their brief time together.
A king becomes the people's spouse— not to vent pain and complaints, but to soothe wounds and comfort labors.
Arif swallowed sobs of emotion, recalling his dead daughter's voice.
"Obin will surely be a great king, Father."
Not as prince, but through that great heart, he moved the people.
No one ordered it, yet the city's folk bowed deeply to the departing prince for Solond.
The brief breather ended; a breathless, urgent day began.
"Alright, let's go in one go. To Sun Castle."