The Roots of Magic
“No, I told you to think of tree roots?”
“I am thinking about them.”
“From the way your mana circuits are spinning, it doesn’t look like it at all?”
“…”
The ghost thumped his chest as if frustrated. I’d always thought I had some talent for handling mana, but the manipulation techniques demanded by this Archmage ghost were completely beyond my understanding. What on earth was I supposed to do with the image of tree roots?
“I said stop trying to solve it by stupidly increasing the output!”
“…”
Since I’d believed I had a gift for magic, the ghost’s constant criticism stung my pride. Fine. Think of roots, right?
I closed my eyes and pictured a thick tree root. The sturdy, unyielding roots of a pine that had gripped the earth for thousands of years. Uuuuung.
Instead of the usual form people imagined for mana, moving it while picturing tree roots gave it a completely different feel from my normal mana manipulation.
“Oh, that’s exactly it.”
The mana wriggled like a living thing awakening. I frowned, calming it down and fixing it into the shape of tree roots.
“Ugh…”
Suppressing the mana’s resistance—its desperate desire to move freely rather than stay fixed—caused blood to trickle from the corner of my mouth. There was no way simply changing the form of mana should create this much backlash. It seemed the aftereffects of my mana circuits being destroyed once before were playing a part too.
Twitch. Twitch. The mana pulsed like a heartbeat. It was still struggling to escape my control, but I could feel its resistance gradually weakening.
“Yes, just hold on a little longer!”
The Archmage ghost clapped beside me, cheering me on to confirm I was heading in the right direction.
Brrrrr.
The moment the ghost’s applause ended, the mana began to boil over. This is the final struggle. Believing it was my mana’s last resistance to being locked into the tree-root form, I gritted my teeth and focused entirely on controlling it. The bitter taste of blood filled my mouth.
“Just a little more! Don’t worry about the mana circuits you built before—just concentrate on changing the form of the mana!”
“Ughhh.”
Blood vessels burst all over my body. And finally—
“I… succeeded.”
I had managed to gather the mana flowing through my body and fix it into the form of a massive tree root.
“Wow, changing the form of your mana in a single day? You’re pretty amazing.”
“Ugh…”
Maybe because I’d lost so much blood, a ringing filled my ears and the Archmage ghost’s chatter didn’t register at all.
“Hendel!”
Was I even seeing hallucinations now? I thought I saw Marinne—who should have been at the Academy—running toward me.
“Ugh…”
With an utterly undignified groan, my consciousness cut out.
“Why does Hendel keep collapsing like this!”
Marinne had silenced the knights and thrown the door open, intending to surprise Hendel. What greeted her was Hendel, every blood vessel in his body ruptured, bleeding profusely. The surprise had turned into a nightmare. Tears and snot streaming down her face, Marinne hoisted Hendel onto her back.
Hendel wasn’t a physical fighter, but after growing steadily for several years, he was now bigger than Marinne. Still, to Marinne—who had been selected as a candidate for the next Sword Master—he was light as a feather.
“Uuu… Young Master?”
Cani, who had just woken up and was still dizzy, froze in shock at the sight of Hendel covered in blood. Recognizing Cani’s face, Marinne shouted at the stunned maid.
“Quickly! Call a priest and a doctor!”
“Hic—y-yes!”
Cani dashed downstairs without even noticing her shoes had come off. Knowing Cani was reliable when it came to getting things done, Marinne trusted her and gently laid Hendel on the floor.
“Cough.”
Even unconscious, Hendel coughed up blood. Marinne first lifted his legs to direct blood flow away from his head. Riiip. Then she tore the hem of her beautifully prepared dress and tied it tightly around the external bleeding sites.
Because injuries were common in the Knight Division, students received professional training in emergency first aid. Marinne thought it was a good thing she’d studied hard in class. She boldly removed her outer clothing—leaving only her undergarments—and draped it over Hendel.
After doing everything she could, Marinne closed her eyes and prayed, hoping Cani would bring help quickly.
“Ughhh…”
Yet another unfamiliar ceiling. The fact that I could think this clearly meant I’d survived once again with my cockroach-like vitality. Am I really a glass cannon?
I’d been born with a weak body, but I thought I’d trained enough to reach an ordinary person’s level. So why did I keep collapsing at every opportunity? A wave of self-loathing hit me hard.
“Oh? You’re awake!”
A clear voice interrupted my gloomy thoughts. Fortunately my neck turned easily this time, so I could look toward the speaker.
The owner of the voice was a beautiful girl with platinum hair tucked behind her ears, sitting in a chair and reading a book.
“Marinne?”
The situation right before I passed out came back to me. I’d thought it was a hallucination, but it really had been Marinne. After a year apart, she had grown even more and now looked like a proper young lady.
“Sorry for showing you such an embarrassing sight after so long.”
She must have come in a good mood to see an old friend, yet I’d shown her something awful. I felt genuinely sorry.
“You were just sick. There’s nothing to apologize for.”
Marinne shook her head, then pulled out an apple and a knife from somewhere.
“By the way, why were you bleeding so much?”
I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should tell her the truth, but decided to keep it secret. If she heard I’d been half-forced into it by a ghost, she’d only worry, and I didn’t want that.
“I was doing mana training alone and it seems I overloaded myself.”
“What? Was it because of your mana circuits?”
Marinne always worried about the state of my mana circuits, feeling responsible for their destruction.
“The circuits are fine. It was simply mana going out of control.”
“Take care of yourself. Training is good, but your health is more important.”
Cases of one’s own mana running wild were extremely rare, so anyone with proper magical knowledge wouldn’t have believed me. But Marinne was a physical fighter to the bone. Thanks to her lack of magical knowledge, she seemed to accept my explanation.
Scratch, scratch. Marinne wrapped her small knife in aura and carved the apple into an intricate rabbit shape.
“Ah.”
“I can eat by myself…”
“Ah.”
It was embarrassing to have a grown adult feed me fruit she’d peeled, but I couldn’t refuse Marinne’s insistence and opened my mouth. Like a mother bird feeding her chick, she placed the apple slice inside.
Even as I felt my cheeks burning, I ate every piece Marinne carved for me.
Crunch, crunch. It must have been a high-quality apple; sweet juice burst with every bite.
“You’re eating well.”
Marinne smiled, apparently pleased that I was accepting her offerings so readily. When we were younger, I had always been the one peeling fruit for her. Now that the roles had reversed after so many years, it felt strange.
Once I finished the apple, Marinne skillfully began preparing a large melon.
“Hehe~”
She even hummed a little tune, as if feeding me fruit made her that happy.
“Why do you like feeding me fruit so much?”
With a clean slice that sent the melon stem flying, Marinne answered.
“When we were little, you always peeled fruit and fed it to me. Like a parent.”
“That’s true.”
“Now I think it’s time for me to repay the favor. It’s like filial piety.”
Oh my goodness. How could such a sweet child exist! No matter who looked at her, the reformed Marinne was nothing like a villainess. I’d been worried that in the year we’d been apart she might have fallen into the villainess fate after all, but there was no way this kind girl could be one!
A sense of accomplishment swelled inside me at the realization that I had completely saved Marinne from the villainess ending. She was so adorable that, without thinking, I reached out and stroked her hair out of old habit.
Ah, I heard girls hate having their heads patted.
Seeing Marinne’s platinum hair all mussed from my vigorous stroking reminded me of something I’d read back on Earth. Women supposedly hated having their hairstyles ruined, which was why they disliked people touching their heads. When we were children Marinne hadn’t cared much about her appearance, but now she was a proper adolescent girl. At an age when she’d be very interested in looking pretty, she was probably sensitive about her hair.
I pulled my hand away and apologized.
“Ah, sorry. The old habit just slipped out.”
“…”
Maybe because I’d noticed too late, Marinne made a pouty face. Then she suddenly grabbed my hand and placed it back on top of her head.
“Hm?”
“I like it when you pat my head, so keep doing it.”
“Ah… okay.”
That day, I became a head-patting machine, held captive by Marinne for the entire afternoon.