A Reckless Gamble
I had obtained a clue about the fourth tier from Valen. With that milestone in sight, all that was left was to forge ahead without hesitation.
As soon as Valen's grueling, groan-inducing training session ended, I headed straight for the workshop in the main estate.
"You're finally here? Get ready. I'm absolutely beating you today."
Arno raised his hands triumphantly. Every time I visited the workshop, we sparred as a warm-up, but Valen's training had already pushed me past my limit. I had absolutely no desire to humor him today.
"Not today. Let's skip it."
"What! Are you trying to run away?"
"No, I'm not running. I'm actually about to begin closed-door training."
"Closed-door training?" Arno scowled, grumbling. "What do you mean, closed-door training? What's gotten into you all of a sudden? Did you eat something bad?"
"I made a bet. I have to reach the fourth tier within a week."
"...What?"
Arno's reaction was no different from Valen's. He stared at me blankly for a moment before letting out a loud snort.
"Hey, are you out of your mind? Do you think the fourth tier is some neighborhood dog's name?"
"..."
"The fourth tier isn't a realm you can reach just like that. There are mages who train their entire lives and never get there. And you're saying a week? Are you kidding me?"
"Yeah. Valen said the exact same thing."
At my nonchalant reply, Arno clicked his tongue and pointed to the mountain of grimoires piled high on his desk. Lunia had mentioned that he was receiving private tutoring from researchers of the Magic Tower, and this was apparently the proof.
"You've clearly let your success get to your head just because you reached the third tier by accumulating mana. But from the fourth tier onward, it's all about experience. A late bloomer like you will take an eternity."
A quiet pride laced Arno's voice. It made sense; as the heir of a prestigious magic family, he had been pampered with expensive elixirs and systematic training since childhood.
"Our starting lines are completely different. The difference between someone who has lived with mana since childhood and someone who hasn't is night and day. Keep dreaming."
"Hmm..."
Well, he wasn't entirely wrong. From the perspective of a traditional mage, I was practically a toddler who had just learned to read. It had been less than six months since I first tapped into mana, so the gap between me and someone like Arno was indeed vast. But there was one crucial detail he was overlooking.
"Want to make a bet of our own while we're at it?"
"A bet? What kind of bet?"
"If I reach the fourth tier within a week, you have to call me 'big brother' for the rest of your life."
I was a regressor. I had a past life of experience handling mana until I was sick of it. Though swordsmanship and magic differed in application, the fundamental act of manipulating mana remained the same.
"...What?"
Arno's brow twitched. Ruffling the feathers of a proud young master was child's play.
"What's wrong? Getting cold feet?"
"Who's getting cold feet?! Fine! Let's do it! The fourth tier in a week? There's a limit to how much bullshit I'll tolerate!"
Arno smirked triumphantly, looking as if he had just caught me in a trap. "Ha! Fine! Let's see how long that confidence of yours lasts. But if I win, you have to serve me as your big brother for the rest of your life!"
Well, hearing my brother-in-law call me "big brother" wouldn't be half bad.
"Sure. Get ready, little brother."
"Who are you calling your little brother?!"
Leaving the fuming Arno behind, I walked out of the workshop. I didn't know much about magic, but seeing Valen's demonstration had given me a rough idea of what to do. To pull it off, however, I needed one thing.
"Sheryl, do you have a moment?"
I called out to Sheryl, who happened to be cleaning my room.
"What is it, Lord Raygan? If it is about lunch, I have already informed the chef."
"It's not that. I was hoping to get some help from you."
"Help? What kind of help do you require?"
"Sheryl, you're a shadow mage, aren't you?"
At my casual question, Sheryl froze. She immediately lowered her posture, darting her eyes down the hallway to check for eavesdroppers. It seemed her identity as a shadow mage disguised as a maid was a secret guarded closely by only the highest-ranking members of the family.
Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, "How on earth... did you know? Did the patriarch tell you?"
I decided to keep the fact that I had seen through her disguise the moment we first met to myself.
"Just intuition. Ever since I reached the third tier, the energy I feel from you has changed a bit."
"Energy?"
"Yeah. It's similar to a black mage's, but it smells less... foul, I suppose."
"Are you saying I smell, milord?"
Her gaze turned slightly cold at that, but I merely shrugged.
"It's just a metaphor. Regardless, I need your help. You're my personal maid, so you're obligated to fulfill my requests, aren't you?"
At my shameless demand, Sheryl frowned in disbelief. "What kind of help do you mean?"
"Help me train my magic."
"Magic... training?"
There was another workshop in the basement of the main estate. Though its facilities were lacking compared to the one I shared with Arno, it had the distinct advantage of being completely private.
"Lord Raygan, I do not know what you are planning... but there are far better instructors than me in this estate," Sheryl said cautiously, having reluctantly followed me down.
"Furthermore, I am a shadow mage. My magic does not follow the conventional system."
"I know. And I'm not asking you to teach me."
"...Then what is it you want from me?"
"I'm going to reach the fourth tier right now."
"...The fourth tier?" Sheryl's eyebrows arched.
"Lord Raygan, confidence is a virtue, but challenging the fourth tier when it has been barely three months since you reached the third is reckless. You are being far too greedy."
"You're right. I am greedy. That's why I need your help."
Sheryl let out a soft sigh, her shoulders relaxing. She clearly dismissed my words as the typical bravado of a teenage boy. Deciding to humor me, she unclasped her hands.
"Very well. What would you like me to do?"
"Attack me."
"...Pardon?"
"Try to hit me."
Sheryl stared at me, wondering if she had misheard. Then, she let out a dry, disbelieving laugh.
"Lord Raygan... if you require a sparring partner, wouldn't Young Master Arno be a more suitable choice?"
"I'm not asking to spar. You will attack me, and I will block it using Rune Magic."
I stood in the center of the room, looking her dead in the eye. "There is no better teacher than real combat. Well, this isn't exactly real combat, but it's close enough."
"..."
"Don't hold back. As long as you don't sever my limbs, a few cracked bones can be healed easily enough."
Realizing I wasn't joking, Sheryl's expression hardened. "Are you truly serious?" she asked, her tone turning cold.
"Yes."
"Why ask me of all people?"
"Because I knew you'd actually go along with such an unreasonable request."
I had considered asking Arno, but his third-tier magic wouldn't give me the sense of danger I needed. More importantly, having fought shadow mages several times in my past life, there was no one better suited than Sheryl to help me reawaken those old combat instincts.
"...Come on. Hit me like you mean to kill me. Just don't permanently cripple me."
At my urging, Sheryl let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through her hair. "Sigh... Fine. But don't blame me if you get hurt."
Reluctantly, she raised both hands and began to channel her mana. She was a fifth-tier shadow mage, and as if to prove it, the workshop instantly began to vibrate with raw power.
Dark shadows began to ripple beneath her feet. It wasn't a simple lack of light, but a viscous, suffocating darkness saturated with mana.
Not bad. Her mana flow and spell structure were perfectly stabilized. Even among the shadow mages I had encountered in my past life, her skill was top-tier. I suppose the Benheim family didn't employ just anyone.
"If you want to stop, tell me immediately. I mean it." The moment the words left her mouth, a shadow surged forward and wrapped around my left arm.
She had clearly held back, as the impact didn't sever my arm, but the shadow dug deep into my flesh, sending a searing pain through me as if a blade were scraping against my bone.
"...Good." Time to dismantle it. The fourth tier... is about forming sentences with runes.
Each rune possessed multiple meanings. To form a sentence, a mage had to isolate specific aspects of each rune's meaning and weave them together. It required meticulous, complex calculations.
It was fundamentally different from simple multi-casting, as it required recognizing and constructing multiple runes simultaneously. It meant weaving entirely incompatible spells into a single, cohesive formula.
It's just like my atypical core. It was no different from how I combined aura and magic.
If I fully utilized the atypical core Lunia had crafted for me, I could replicate the process—even if it wasn't as seamless as Valen's natural fusion.
If they won't mix, I just have to run them separately. Two cores housed within a single engine. Two separate furnaces divided by a single partition. I would plant a different rune in each. It wasn't difficult. I had spent the last few months constantly channeling aura and magic simultaneously; my body was already accustomed to the sensation.
Flash.Kenaz in my right hand, Isaz in my left. Isaz was typically used to cast ice magic, but its underlying concept was 'condensation'—the freezing and halting of all things. I isolated that specific concept and engraved it onto Kenaz. Isaz would serve as the modifier, and Kenaz as the element. A condensed flame. In other words, pure, concentrated explosive power.
"Let there be light." And there was light.
When Raygan first asked for her help with his magic training, Sheryl had dismissed it as the whim of a childish boy. He's barely a mid-tier third-circle mage, yet he wants to challenge the fourth tier? Honestly, it was absurd.
She knew from experience that Raygan possessed monstrous talent, but the path of magic was built on time and dedication. And he wants me to attack him? No matter how mature he seemed, a boy was still a boy. She figured he simply wanted to play-act at real combat. She had intended to give him a light scare and call it a day.
When her shadow magic bound his arm, she expected him to scream and fall, at which point she would reluctantly help him up. But...
Boom! With a deafening blast, Sheryl's shadow magic was instantly blown to pieces. Raygan's spell had completely overpowered hers.
"...What?" Sheryl stared in disbelief. She couldn't comprehend what she had just witnessed.
For a brief moment, Raygan had overlaid the runes, sublimating them into a single sentence. It was undeniably the realm of the fourth tier. Yet, with his current third-tier mana capacity, it should have been physically impossible. How on earth... did he do that?
A normal mage constructed a single spell upon a single magic circuit. To form a sentence, mages had to delicately weave two runes together on that lone circuit. But Raygan hadn't done that. He had taken two separate runes cast via multi-casting and forcibly smashed them together.
It defied all common sense. It was a crude, brute-force method that lacked any semblance of elegance—like tearing two canvases in half and taping them together to make a single painting. And yet...
"...Lord Raygan, are you out of your mind? Forcing runes to fuse like that will cause a catastrophic backlash! You could blow up this entire basement, not just this workshop! Do you have a death wish?"
Forcing two spells generated from a single core to fuse—it was an act of sheer madness that no third-tier mage should ever attempt. It wasn't just reckless; it was suicidal. If his mana backflowed and shattered his core, he would have no one to blame but himself.
Yet, completely unfazed by her horror, Raygan simply shrugged. "Well, it worked, didn't it? The mana consumption is relatively low, and the destructive power is impressive."
"That is not the point! You could have died just now, Lord Raygan!"
"But I didn't, did I? I'm standing here perfectly fine. That's all that matters." He spread his arms wide to emphasize his point, causing Sheryl's eyes to twitch.
"Besides, if something did go wrong, I knew you'd step in. And even if you couldn't, someone else in the Benheim estate would have saved me. Surely the greatest magic family in the empire can handle a minor mishap."
Staring at Raygan's smug grin, the truth finally dawned on Sheryl. She realized exactly why he had chosen her, and why he had picked this specific basement workshop. He had done it because he was absolutely certain that even if he failed, she or the other Benheim mages would bail him out. He was incredibly bold, and infuriatingly clever.
Sheryl let out a heavy sigh. "Even if you trust the family, this is far too dangerous a gamble."
"You have to take a few risks if you want to raise the stakes." Raygan's eyes gleamed with a relentless intensity. He was not a man who could be talked out of this.
"Oh, and Sheryl. Meet me here in the workshop at this exact time every day from now on."
"Pardon?"
"I'll be in your care for the next week."
"Are you seriously planning to keep doing this madness?"
"Do I have any other choice?" Raygan replied with a grin. Sheryl pinched the bridge of her nose, utterly defeated.