The First Lesson
"Eron? You know, you don't look a thing like those two."
"My face, you mean?"
"Your face especially, but your temperament as well."
"I took after my mother's side when it comes to looks."
To be fair, he had never actually seen her in person. A portrait was all he had ever looked upon, yet his golden hair and features had clearly been inherited from her.
"Well, it is quite a blessing that you took after her."
"I couldn't agree more. It's a massive relief."
Thanks to his mother, his appearance was at least presentable. If he had inherited that bastard's face on top of everything else, his life would have been pure despair. Or... would life back in that house have actually been easier if he had?
Jay was the spitting image of Jaylon. Put charitably, it was a rugged, masculine look; put bluntly, he looked brutish and dense. On top of that, both sported the exact same jet-black hair. Anyone with eyes could tell they were father and son at a single glance. Eron and Jaylon, by contrast, shared not a shred of resemblance. It was enough to make anyone wonder whether Eron was truly his son at all.
'If I had looked like him, maybe he wouldn't have treated me like such utter dirt.'
Eron tried imagining what it would have been like to bear Jaylon's face.
Mmm... No. This face is infinitely better than looking like that. Dozens of times better.
He reached his conclusion without a shred of hesitation.
"First things first," Merna said. "We must strike your name from that family's registry."
"Is something like that actually possible?"
Once a name was inscribed upon a noble house's registry, tampering with it was no simple task—not even for a king. High standing or not, Eron doubted an Archmage would be an exception to continental law.
"Erasing a name from a noble register is child's play to me."
"Is it really?"
As Merna spoke, her expression was brazenly confident, carrying an edge of smug pride.
"This region falls under the Byron Empire's northern territory, does it not?"
"Yes, we're in the North."
"And the administrator of the North is..."
"House Linda."
The regional administrators of the Byron Empire were drawn exclusively from the Four Great Noble Families, the pinnacle of the empire's aristocracy, who commanded immense privilege and deference. They served as military commanders-in-chief over their vast domains while overseeing all administrative affairs, wielding authority comparable to kings within their own borders. If one wanted to settle matters concerning a local noble house, going through House Linda was indeed the proper procedure.
"Right, of course. Then that is where we head first."
"Is it really alright for us to just stroll in like that without notice?"
"They already know I am roaming the North, so it will be fine. Besides, even if they harbor complaints, it isn't as though they can do anything about it."
'Surely it can't be that simple, can it?'
It was true that an Archmage commanded respect equal to, or even exceeding, the highest nobility. Even so, that did not mean an Archmage could treat the Four Great Noble Families like commoners. That left only two possibilities: Merna was either an overwhelmingly transcendent figure even among Archmages, or she was far more reckless and unhinged than he had realized.
"Hmph! That human certainly doesn't mince words," Ifrit chirped. "I can't stand her acting like your master, though!"
'Seeing Ifrit take a liking to her attitude makes me lean toward the latter...'
Eron felt his impression of his new mentor shifting ever so slightly.
"Starting from there, we shall travel while conducting your training. Steel your resolve, for there is no telling what may cross our path."
"Ah, yes! Master."
Merna glanced around the empty air before fixing her gaze on the empty space where she presumed Ifrit was hovering. "You over there, spirit. You had best prepare yourself as well."
"I'm not 'spirit', I'm Ifrit! Call me by my proper name already!"
"Stop screaming, she can't hear you anyway," Eron muttered under his breath. "You're only hurting my ears."
"Then you tell her for me!"
She calls everyone 'human' all day long, yet demands so much courtesy for herself. Shouldn't she fix her own habits first? Even as he thought it, Eron decided to humor the fire spirit's request.
"Master?"
"Hm? What is it?"
"The spirit is earnestly begging that you call her Ifrit."
"When did I ever 'earnestly beg'?! I did no such thing!"
Eron was the only one who could hear Ifrit's voice. While that had its drawbacks, it certainly came with clear advantages.
'If Master could actually hear her squawking, my headache would be ten times worse right now.' That, at least, was a blessing.
"Hmm. Let us be on our way, Eron. And you as well, spirit. We have a long road ahead."
"Hey! She didn't even use my name in the end!"
Listening to Ifrit's indignant shrieks, Eron set out on the road behind Merna.
"Now then, shall we finally begin your training? I assume you are prepared?"
"Yes, Master!"
Three days had passed since they departed. At last, their first training session was about to begin.
"This place should serve as the perfect training ground."
"Is... that so?"
As far as the eye could see, not a single blade of grass survived on the barren expanse of parched earth. Gale-force winds whipped across the wasteland at irregular intervals, threatening to sweep an unwary body off its feet.
'Unless we're here for some ascetic martial arts pilgrimage, can this really be called a good place to learn magic?'
"For an ordinary mage, training begins with theoretical fundamentals and the circulation of mana," Merna remarked, noticing his hesitation. "However, you are no ordinary mage."
Seeing Eron nod in quiet agreement, Merna continued.
"In that case, where do you think you should begin?"
"Uh... learning how to control spirits?"
"Well, that is part of it, but wrong! Bzzt. There is something you must do before any of that."
Something to do first? Could there really be something else? He still possessed zero internal mana, and without Ifrit, he couldn't cast a single spell. What else could possibly take precedence? Eron furrowed his brow, sinking into deep contemplation.
"It is to understand yourself."
"Understand... myself?"
Watching her disciple wrestle with the question, Merna provided the answer without teasing him further. Understanding oneself... 'Know thyself' or something like that?
"Do you recall what I told you previously?"
"What you told me, Master?"
"I told you that you possess immense talent."
She certainly had said those words. But did he genuinely possess such a gift? Eron couldn't bring himself to believe it with any real conviction.
"What went through your mind when you heard that?"
"...'Do I really have talent?'"
"Precisely. That is why you must understand who and what you are."
Self-understanding. He had never imagined his magical apprenticeship would take such an intensely philosophical turn right out of the gate.
'I've always been terrible at this sort of abstract thinking.'
"Hah! Do not rack your brains so hard," Merna chuckled. "I will explain it to you."
"Ah... thank you."
'Did she read my expression?'
Catching his sheepish look, Merna broke into a teasing smile. "You carry yourself so maturely, yet you have a surprisingly endearing side."
"Well, I suppose I do have my charms. Haha..."
Hearing such praise felt a bit awkward for someone who had reincarnated from another life, but Merna possessed the easygoing aura of an elder sister, making it surprisingly comfortable.
"Eron, why do you think you became my disciple?"
"Because... I can see and converse with spirits, right?"
"Indeed. So let us begin with spirits."
"Yes, Master!"
At her disciple's enthusiastic reply, Merna smiled with satisfaction and began her explanation.
"Spirits are incarnations of nature itself. I believe they are born directly from the elements—from fire, from wind, and the natural world all around us."
"Right."
"And they are the very beings who supply the world with mana, the source of all magical power."
Beings that supplied the world with mana. Eron recalled Ifrit boasting about something along those lines when they first met. Had that actually been the truth?
"Do you grasp what that implies?"
"It means... they possess an immense reservoir of mana, doesn't it?"
"Heh. Exactly." Seeing how quickly her sharp pupil caught on, Merna pressed forward. "Now then, how do you imagine a spirit's magical power compares to that of an average mage?"
"Five times? Maybe more?"
"Fwahaha! Tens of times over, at the very least."
"Tens of times..."
Upon hearing Merna's declaration, Eron glanced down at the inner pocket of his coat, where Ifrit lay fast asleep.
This little brat is that incredible? Now that he thought about it, she had bragged about something similar back when they met. But no matter how many times he looked at her, she hardly seemed like some grand, awe-inspiring entity. He found it difficult to swallow.
'Seriously? Her?'
"Do you begin to appreciate what kind of beings spirits truly are?"
"In theory, yes."
His head understood the logic, but watching the sleeping fairy in his pocket made it difficult for his heart to accept.
"And do you now realize what an astounding talent you possess?"
If he could borrow a spirit's power, he could cast magic fueled by their colossal ocean of mana. He still had much to learn about spellcraft, but even a novice could recognize the overwhelming advantage that granted him as a mage.
"Wielding that vast amount of mana would definitely be an incredible asset."
"That is only the half of it."
"Pardon?"
"Did I not mention that spirits are incarnations of nature itself?"
He had heard her say it, but did that hold some deeper significance? It didn't seem directly connected to magic at first glance.
"I have yet to explain the deeper mechanics of magic to you, so it is natural that you wouldn't know," Merna said, clarifying for him. "To put it simply for now: magic cast in tandem with a spirit will be inherently more potent and peerless than standard spellcraft."
Magic that was more distinct and far more devastating. If that held true, his ability to commune with spirits was undoubtedly an extraordinary gift.
"Especially considering that the one resting on you appears quite unique," Merna added, fixing her eyes directly on the pocket where the fire spirit slumbered.
"There's no way a freeloader sleeping in my pocket could be that special."
"Nngh...? What's all the racket?"
Woken by the chatter, Ifrit poked her tiny face out from the pocket, rubbing her eyes sleepily.
"You awake?"
"What's going on?"
"Ah, so you've awakened? Perfect timing. Hey there, spirit."
"Gah! Ifrit! I told you, it's Ifrit!"
This exchange had repeated itself dozens of times over their three days on the road. Eron was past the point of bothering to mediate. His master couldn't hear Ifrit's voice anyway, nor did she care to indulge the spirit's tantrums. In moments like this, staying silent was the best course of action. Eron merely stood by, waiting patiently for Ifrit to burn off her steam.
"I had always operated under the assumption that spirits were mindless forces devoid of ego," Merna mused aloud.
"Hmph! Yours truly is special, obviously!"
Having buzzed circles around Merna's head while venting her grievances, Ifrit puffed out her tiny chest with immense pride at the comment.
"She says she's special," Eron translated flatly.
"Indeed, she is exceptional. She even cast magic entirely on her own."
"Yours truly is in a whole different league from those mindless lower spirits—"
"Yet she is terribly clumsy and unrefined," Merna cut in dryly.
"Urgh!"
Struck where it hurt, Ifrit flinched visibly and zipped back to perch onto Eron's shoulder. Eron wasn't entirely in the dark either; from the way she had behaved back at the forest, it had been obvious she'd bungled something terribly. If spirits existed simply to release mana into the atmosphere, there was no reason releasing mana would have left her trapped and bound to that northern grove. There had to be another explanation.
"What did you actually do in that forest?" he whispered.
"U-Um... Nothing in particular... probably?"
She averted her eyes, feigning ignorance, but her guilty expression laid it all bare. Eron narrowed his eyes and pressed further.
"Did you start that fire?"
"Huh?! N-No... I don't think so...?"
"She nearly reduced the entire forest to ash," Merna noted, "all with that clumsy, out-of-control power of hers."
"C-Clumsy?! I am not clumsy!"
It really was her. He had suspected as much, but now the truth was laid bare.
"She likely cannot properly control her vast, untamed mana, which remains so close to raw nature," Merna continued.
'Is that why she was bound there?'
Losing control of her own power would certainly explain why she had tried so desperately to hide it. Given her towering pride, admitting such a failure would have mortified her.
"Which makes the two of you a match made in heaven," Merna declared.
"The two of us?"
"A mage who possesses no mana of his own, and a spirit who possesses boundless mana she cannot properly wield. You two must align your breath as one to weave and cast magic together."
At Merna's words, Eron glanced at his shoulder, meeting Ifrit's wide eyes.
"That is what the two of you must understand. And that is what you will learn to master from this day forward."
Aligning their breath with this brat... He had a terrible feeling about this.
"What? What are you staring at me like that for?"
"Nothing. Never mind."
His misgivings must have been written all over his face, as even Ifrit caught on.
"You have already pulled it off once, so there should be no issue," Merna added casually.
"Yeah! Just leave it to this great me!"
...No matter how he looked at it, he couldn't shake this overwhelming sense of dread.