Chapter 19
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 19
"I'm sorry. I heard you were confined to the temple because of me."
Those were the first words Turan heard when he visited Meisa’s room. Faced with the noble lady's apology, he chose his words carefully, offering the most diplomatic response possible.
"It was necessary. More importantly, I am glad to see you are safe."
Apologizing for pushing her too hard would have felt like a taunt—a subtle jab suggesting that while he could handle the strain, she could not.
As if sensing the calculation behind his answer, Meisa let out a soft exclamation, as if suddenly remembering something she had overlooked.
"Ah! Speaking of which, that magic that makes animals rot... is it perhaps an unknown bloodline magic? The mana consumption was absurdly low."
"No. If you understand the principle, you'll be more than capable of using it yourself, My Lady."
As they spoke, Turan’s keen sense of smell caught an unfamiliar scent. It was a savory aroma that had turned slightly rancid, mixed with a sour, acrid stench...
Did she vomit?
The faint smell lingering around Meisa’s mouth was reminiscent of the scent released when a stomach is accidentally punctured during butchery. He had heard she wasn't eating, but why would she smell like that?
Turan started to speak but quickly realized it would be inappropriate and held his tongue. Given how faint the scent was even to his heightened senses, she must have cleaned up thoroughly. If he mentioned it, she might suspect him of possessing a bloodline specialized in tracking or scent.
While he was lost in thought, Meisa assumed his silence was a refusal to reveal his secrets. She gave him a playful, probing smile.
"So, you won't teach me for free? But if you don't explain the method, I have no proof that it isn't bloodline magic."
"It doesn't particularly matter to me whether I 'won' or not."
The two locked eyes in silence for a moment. Meisa was the first to surrender.
"It’ll leave a bad taste in my mouth if we leave it like this. If you tell me the secret of that magic, I’ll teach you one of Arabion’s secret techniques. Fair?"
"Very well. Then—"
Turan explained the existence of organisms too small to be seen by the naked eye, and that the phenomenon of decay was actually these organisms consuming larger life forms. He went on to explain that the principle of the magic was simply granting power to these tiny creatures to accelerate the process.
Even with just that brief explanation, Meisa seemed to grasp the core of the magic, letting out a soft "Ah."
"So... at its root, it was creature enhancement magic?"
"Yes."
"No wonder. My efficiency was abysmal because I tried to force the effect without knowing the cause. You there, could you catch a rat for me?"
At Meisa’s request, the maid standing politely behind her blinked in surprise.
"A... a rat, My Lady?"
"Yes. In a house this large, there must be one living somewhere."
A short while later, Meisa watched with a satisfied nod as a mouse rotted away while still alive. The maid who had brought the creature looked as if she might vomit at any moment, but neither Turan nor Meisa paid her any mind.
"Then I suppose I lost the duel. I succeeded in the end, but only by forcing it through with raw power."
"I considered that part of the bet as well."
"No, it isn't. Usually, when discussing magical skill, one doesn't include the sheer quantity of mana." Having said that, Meisa suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. "Um, could you tell Asiz that we tied? I really don't want to see that fellow acting all smug."
"I understand."
"Then I must pay the price. Let's see... this should do."
Meisa took a comb from a nearby table and ran it through her long hair several times. Then, she lifted the comb, showing how her hair clung to it, rising up as if by magic.
"As you can see, when objects rub together like this, a phenomenon occurs where they attract each other. This is—"
"Static electricity."
Meisa’s eyes widened. "...You knew?"
"Yes."
He had come across that knowledge in the library while researching the principles of lightning. He hadn't fully understood the more difficult parts—the talk of positive and negative charges—but he knew that lightning originated from a force called electricity and that a similar, smaller phenomenon could be triggered through friction.
To demonstrate, Turan rubbed his fingers together, producing a small, snapping spark. By applying this principle, he could use electric magic to fire bolts of lightning, though it wasn't as powerful as a true lightning strike spell. It was still unrefined—a work in progress, not yet ready for actual combat.
"This is supposed to be one of our fairly profound secrets..." Meisa muttered with a deep sigh. "This is awkward. Could I have a bit more time to think about how to repay you?"
"As you wish."
Turan didn't decline the reward. One of the lessons he had learned since coming down from the hill was that if you provide knowledge, you should receive something of equal value in return.
After a brief silence, Meisa shook her head and made an unexpected suggestion.
"Then, until I think of a sufficient reward, how about we continue working together?"
"You mean magic practice?"
"Yes. I think we have quite a lot to learn from each other."
"That sounds good."
He had intended to keep up his daily magic training anyway. Competing and sharing achievements with a high-level mage would be excellent motivation.
"Then let's meet in the garden every day at sunset, starting tomorrow."
*
The morning after his meeting with Meisa, someone visited Turan early. It was Haram, the noble of the Guardian bloodline who had briefly sparred with him at the temple.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Ah... yes. But what brings you here?"
"Did you think about what I said yesterday?"
Turan recalled the man's words. He had suggested that Turan take the time to train his body. When he mentioned this, Haram nodded and declared, "Let's go."
"You don't mean... to train right now?"
"Do you dislike the idea?"
Turan hesitated but eventually agreed and stepped out the door. Asiz had suggested going to see a play again today, but... he felt it would be more rewarding to gain something useful rather than just playing around.
He was about to call a servant to send word that he was canceling his plans when Asiz appeared at the end of the hallway.
"Hey, Turan! I heard there's a truly incredible play today—"
Asiz’s bright voice shriveled instantly upon seeing Haram standing there.
"It's Asiz."
"Ah, hello... Uncle."
"Are you coming too?"
"Huh? No... I just got back from a trip, and I haven't quite recovered from the travel fatigue yet."
Haram hadn't even said where they were going, but Asiz stammered an excuse and quickly retreated the way he had come. A short while later, Turan understood why.
"One more time."
"Hrrgh..."
"Last one. One more."
In the training ground of the Berk mansion, surrounded by four imposing buildings, were several devices that appeared to be magic tools. There were metal rods that grew heavier the more mana was infused into them, and zones where one's body became leaden the moment they stepped inside.
In this place, Haram pushed Turan’s muscles to their absolute limits. Generally, a noble's strength wouldn't be overwhelmed by the weight of their own body, but under the influence of these tools, it was a different story.
"That's enough."
At Haram’s word, Turan withdrew the strength he was pouring into the rod, tossed it aside, and collapsed. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his face.
"Is it difficult?"
"Yes..."
He felt more exhausted than he had when fighting the Dark Elf necromancers. Back then, he had been battered by a water buffalo spirit; this time, every muscle from his neck to his toes had been thoroughly thrashed.
At Turan’s answer, Haram let out a bizarre laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching upward.
"Still, you're a mage, so be glad you only have to do this once."
"Is it different if one isn't a mage?"
"Normally, even if you build muscle through training, it disappears over time. You have to train constantly to maintain it. But for a mage, mana keeps the body in optimal condition. Once you build your body, it doesn't weaken." After saying that, Haram pointed toward the sky. "Besides, doesn't it feel refreshing to catch the breeze after exercising?"
"I suppose... it does."
Turan hesitated before agreeing. Lying there after sweating out every drop of energy brought a strange sense of exhilaration. It was a sense of achievement similar to what he felt after finishing a difficult book—the feeling that he was becoming something better than he was before.
Haram spent a good while grumbling about how mages—especially nobles—who neglected physical training were all fools. Then, he stood up and gave a new command.
"You've rested enough."
"No, not yet—"
"I know. You've rested plenty. From now on, I'll teach you weaponry and unarmed combat."
After spending the morning in a hellish training session, Turan walked with trembling legs to a small dining room. Not long after he sat down to eat, Asiz appeared out of nowhere and sat across from him.
"How on earth did you get caught by Uncle Haram?"
"Well..."
When Turan explained the situation, Asiz let out a hollow, incredulous laugh.
"You got hooked."
"Hooked?"
"Uncle is a man who believes every noble should be a warrior. I fell for the same trick when I was younger."
He explained that Haram’s pattern was to demonstrate flashy swordsmanship, lure someone in by asking if they wanted to try it, and then drag them to the training ground to work them to the bone. Asiz said that after suffering under Haram as a youth, he wouldn't go near the man if training was even mentioned.
"But he said the effects are permanent for mages?"
"It's still too hard! I'd rather do magic training. You're a guest anyway; you could just say you want to stop."
Turan considered the suggestion but eventually shook his head.
"No, I think I'll try a bit more."
Though Turan had never done any physical training other than walking and slinging stones, he could instinctively feel that Haram’s method was systematic. Besides, the place was filled with training equipment made by the Berk family's enchanters. He didn't want to miss the chance to use them.
"Why don't you join me?"
"Me? I'm too old now..." Asiz, who looked no older than his early twenties, said with an awkward laugh.
*
For the next three weeks, Turan’s daily routine was incredibly fulfilling.
He woke up early for physical training with Haram. After crushing every muscle in his body, he replenished himself with a high-quality lunch. In the afternoon, he went into the city with Asiz to watch plays or read in the library.
And at sunset, he returned to the mansion to practice magic with Meisa. In the process, he became quite close to her. By the end of the three weeks, they were on a first-name basis—a remarkable change, considering Meisa hadn't even remembered his name during their first meeting.
"It doesn't seem to be going well, Turan."
"I suppose it's because I'm not an Arabion."
At Meisa’s teasing tone, Turan scratched his chin and looked at the burn marks covering the wall. They were the traces of Thunderbolt, a magic that fired electricity generated by friction. His current task was accuracy, but even now, several shots out of every ten would stray from the center.
It wasn't that Turan was unskilled, but rather that lightning magic was naturally imprecise. To overcome this, one either had to perfectly master the principles of how lightning travels or simply increase their level of mastery through sheer repetition.
"It's hard for me to help. I've never had to think about aiming lightning magic."
Born with the Storm bloodline, she could naturally control lightning. She couldn't offer advice to Turan, who was struggling through trial and error. One who has run since birth cannot teach a crawler how to walk.
"I'll just have to keep at it."
While letting out a deep sigh, Turan remembered that his guardian magic tool would be finished in about a week. By then, he would have to leave.
...Somehow, I don't want to go.
It was no exaggeration to say that his time with the Berk family was the happiest period of his life. Being the headquarters of a Great House, the standard of living was unparalleled. He had a teacher, a training partner, and a friend.
But he couldn't stay forever. He was a guest. And while there was no risk of being caught now, there was no guarantee he could hide his true identity forever...
"Are you here, Lady Meisa!"
An unfamiliar voice rang out in the garden. A man in his early twenties whom Turan had never seen before was looking at him with a strangely hostile expression.
"My Lady, who is this man...?"
"None of your business. More importantly, what are you doing here? I believe I said no one from the main house was to approach while I was recuperating."
Meisa’s attitude toward the man, who clearly belonged to the Arabion family, was cold as ice. There was even a hint of animosity. The man shivered before bowing his head deeply.
"The Family Head has summoned you, My Lady."
"For what reason?"
"That is..." The man glanced at Turan, clearly wanting him to leave. But before Turan could react, Meisa questioned him sharply.
"Answer me quickly. If it's a trivial reason, you'd better be prepared."
The man answered hurriedly, his tone suggesting he feared she might blast him if he hesitated. The content of his message was enough to startle even Turan.
"The Dark Elves have risen in force in the south! Three cities have already fallen, and an expeditionary force is being formed...!"