Level 3 (2)
"Hm?"
Harok Dryen, the Level 5 mage who was busy clearing up the scene at the Mana Power Plant, narrowed his eyes. An outsider—someone who was not a mage of the White Tower—had just shown up.
"Who might you be? No one is permitted to enter this area without authorization."
Naturally, he stepped forward to block the man's path, and the stranger in a formal suit drew a single card from his breast pocket.
"Haha, I'm hardly just anyone. My name is Nebula Grime, of the Special Investigation Division under the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs."
"...The Special Investigation Division?"
Harok couldn't hide his displeasure at the appearance of an organization he'd never expected to see, and asked again as he examined the credentials. "What business does such an important institution have all the way out here?"
"A White Sky Silkworm hatching near the city center is hardly a common occurrence, so I was ordered to look into it. Would you be willing to cooperate?"
"Well... yes, of course."
When the Empire told you to jump, what else could you do but ask how high?
Harok stepped aside, and Nebula gave a slight bow and a faint smile.
"According to the newspaper reports, two White Tower mages hunted it down. Is that correct?"
"Yes. I hear the city's mana supply had been cutting out frequently lately, and they discovered it when a sanitation crew came through."
"My, impressive. Then I'd like to examine the scene as it was during the fight."
"Of course. I can walk you through it, so—"
"No need. A battlefield tells you everything at a glance. This is all I do for a living, after all."
Nebula replied with easy confidence, then concentrated mana into both eyes and began studying the traces of the battle. At once, the scene from that day painted itself before his mind's eye.
One of them initiated the fight. Their speed was respectable, but...
His gaze swung to a single spot.
All eagerness and no finesse. Judging by the mana residue, they were so tense they were pouring in far too much power. Then they were finally restrained by the other mage. Rather than internal conflict or betrayal, the most reasonable interpretation is that the other saved their life in the face of death.
He soon located the wall that had melted through and nodded to himself.
So that was the cause. And the one who was restrained stayed seated in that spot, unable to move for quite a while afterward. There are no bloodstains, so the most likely explanation is simply that their legs gave out.
The moment Nebula finished that line of analysis, his brow suddenly creased. The difficulty of reading the traces left by the mage who had joined the fight afterward had shot up exponentially.
...And what am I looking at with this one? Even I can only barely make out the broad strokes?
That meant the person had left behind fewer traces—and the fewer the traces, the greater their skill.
He checked the direction of the silkworm's fluids spattered across the ground and pieced together what must have happened.
Given the pattern of the spray in every direction, that wasn't magic... a modified weapon, and a firearm at that.
Mages didn't particularly look down on the use of such things. After all, skill with a good tool was skill all the same.
This time, Nebula's eyes turned upward.
The mortally wounded silkworm burst through the ceiling and flew up into the sky to escape... and the footprints end right about there. Surely they didn't chase after it into the air?
It was so bold, so audacious, it almost drew a laugh out of him. According to the article, the ones who had hunted the silkworm were a single Level 2 mage and a single Level 4 mage.
The one who chased it up would be the Level 4, presumably. And the one whose legs gave out, the Level 2.
He was honestly astonished. Who would have thought that among mere Level 4 mages there existed someone with both such skill and such nerve?
Nebula turned his head and asked, "What is the name of the Level 4 mage?"
"Oh, that would be Veronica Frix."
"Veronica Frix... A fine name."
Having committed the name firmly to memory, Nebula continued. "Judging by the traces, she hunted the silkworm almost single-handedly. To still be Level 4—her future looks promising."
"I'm sorry... er, I believe you've misunderstood something."
Harok scratched his head, looking awkward. "The one who brought down the silkworm was the Level 2 mage. That's straight from Veronica herself, and she's famous for her pride, so it's not likely a lie."
"...I beg your pardon?"
Rarely caught off guard, Nebula's eyes went wide. "You mean the person who followed the silkworm into the sky and finished it off was—"
"Yes. A fellow by the name of Oscar Crucian."
"...What?"
The owner of those traces he'd been so impressed by... was a mere Level 2 mage?
Nebula's mind descended into confusion.
What? That doesn't add up.
The only reason he'd assumed the one who pursued the silkworm was the Level 4 mage was that the work had been so immaculately clean. Frankly, he'd even entertained the thought that it was a Level 5 mage at minimum, hiding their true strength.
And yet he's only Level 2?
If the White Tower wasn't lying, then this man was a genius. Not one of those manufactured prodigies trumpeted as geniuses by every academy and institution, but a natural-born one. Above all, the form of the mana he'd left behind ranked among the cleanest Nebula had ever witnessed.
Restrained elegance, you might call it. Mana so refined it was hard to believe a mere Level 2 had produced it.
"Wait a moment. Oscar Crucian... isn't he the one who restored the remedy for the Cadena Flu a while back?"
"That's him. His personality leaves something to be desired, but his skill is the real deal."
No wonder those scorch marks looked familiar—it was 'Trinity' all right, Gunslinger Jack's modified weapon.
Nebula had already read in the papers that Oscar was the one who'd brought down Gunslinger Jack.
But a Level 2 mage could handle that absurd gun?
Which would mean that his physical capabilities were as formidable as his mana...
The more he learned, the more intriguing it became. It had been a very long time since anyone had genuinely piqued his interest, and the question slipped out before he could stop himself.
"Just what sort of person is Oscar Crucian?"
...He's out of his mind.
So thought Maxim as he visited the sickroom. He stood watching Oscar, who was vigorously bouncing up and down on his bed.
"Hoo, one hundred fifty-seven. Hoo, one hundred fifty-eight."
Doing sit-ups with both shoulders shattered. And to top it off, he looked as bursting with energy as a fish freshly pulled from the water.
"Hoo, two hundred!"
Having hit his target, Oscar turned his head with a rough exhale. "Oh, you're here."
"..."
Right. What problem could that boy possibly have? The one with the problem was himself, for trying to understand this oddity with an ordinary mind.
Letting out a sigh of self-reproach, Maxim settled into the chair beside the bed. "I came today because I have something to give you."
He produced a small wooden box from his coat.
"Hm? That is..."
Even tightly shut as it was, the box couldn't completely contain what was inside—mana of such high purity that it seeped straight through the lid. Maxim smiled knowingly. "The core of the White Sky Silkworm. And incidentally, it's been decided that the silkworm silk belongs to you as well."
"Both of them?"
The inner core of a spirit beast on the level of a White Sky Silkworm was extraordinarily valuable. Consuming one granted a tremendous surge of mana the moment it was ingested, and its purity was exceptional besides. The silkworm silk, too—thread that no ordinary blade could cut—was prized as a treasure among materials.
Unfortunately, though, the one we caught this time had only just finished its transformation.
Naturally, the amount of mana the core contained wouldn't be all that great. In exchange, the silkworm's core carried a potent regenerative healing effect as a bonus.
"Are you sure I should have it? I know it's on the small side, but it's still worth hundreds of thousands of gold..."
"Lady Fidelina ruled that it's only right for you to keep it. Elder Fidelina and I agreed."
So because he'd caught it himself, the tower had no claim to ownership. Even so, one person nagged at his conscience.
"What about Veronica, then? She fought the silkworm with me, so shouldn't we at least ask her?"
"I already asked on the way here. She said she didn't do anything of note in that fight, so it's only natural you keep it."
"That girl..."
Recalling Veronica's rough-edged generosity, Oscar smiled faintly. "Then I'll gratefully accept."
"If you plan on taking it right now, I'll stand guard around you."
When absorbing most elixirs or spirit herbs, any disruption from the surroundings could send one's mana berserk, damaging the circuits at best and costing one's life at worst. For that reason, it was customary to take them alone in a quiet space, or to entrust one's protection to someone trustworthy.
Though this core hardly warrants such fuss...
Still, when someone offered to stand guard, there was no reason to refuse.
"Then I'll leave it to you."
With Maxim keeping watch, Oscar opened the box without hesitation and tipped the core into his mouth in a single gulp.
Mmh...!
The instant it touched his tongue, the core melted away, and a wave of mana surged through his body. But he hadn't eaten such things just once or twice in his previous life. Oscar recovered his composure in an instant and guided the modest but gentle mana exactly where it needed to go.
My word.
Maxim, watching him, wore an expression of genuine surprise. The boy had taken an illicit elixir once before, it was true, but for only his second time, this seemed far too practiced.
Is that what it means to be a genius? It shows in everything they do.
Two hours or so passed with Maxim gazing warmly upon this young mage—the very future of the White Tower—until at last, having gathered in every last thread of mana, Oscar's eyelids slowly lifted.
"Level 3 at last. Congratulations."
"...Whew. Thank you."
Feeling the three lines of mana circuits now firmly installed in his body, Oscar rolled his shoulders in slow circles. "My shoulders have healed completely, too."
"The silkworm's core carries remarkable restorative properties. A fortunate thing, all around."
At this rate, his shoulders might well be sturdier than before the injury.
Maxim, who had been wearing a contented smile, suddenly turned serious. "And now that you're at the age where you'll be eyeing Level 4, let an old man give you a warning: don't so much as spare a glance for some fellow calling himself the Designer."
"The Designer? Who's that?"
"A mage of the Violet Brigade. I hear he designs mana circuits for people—for a fee, of course."
What followed was a fairly fascinating explanation. "You know how the space inside a human body where mana circuits can be installed is limited? And on top of that, since everyone's build and proportions differ, even identical circuit layouts won't work with the same efficiency. So the story goes that if you want a more efficient circuit and a higher level, you pay the Designer to install a layout optimized for your own body."
"In other words, you'd be showing that Designer fellow the inside of your own body?"
"That part has always sat poorly with me, but the young up-and-coming mages these days hardly seem to care. Plenty of them are apparently contacting him in secret. It's troubling."
"Tch."
Oscar clicked his tongue at once. "Young people these days, honestly... What do they think personal information is?"
Maxim's face immediately twisted in exasperation. "...Says the boy who is one of those young people."
"I'm nothing like those children, thank you very much. Anyway, I take it this Designer fellow is at least genuinely skilled?"
"In name, he's a Level 7 mage. The problem is that he used that talent to become a criminal of the Brigade."
"Level 7?!"
Oscar's expression flickered with surprise.
The Violet Brigade—I'd assumed they were just a glorified crime syndicate... and they have a Level 7 mage on the roster?
Now he understood why the Empire was watching them so closely. That level of strength meant a mere organization had armed itself with the firepower of an entire magic tower.
"I'd rather not get tangled up with that crowd myself. And don't worry about my circuits."
No matter how skilled that Designer was, he couldn't outdo someone who had actually reached Level 9. Even now, Oscar's circuit design was far more efficient and elegant than it had been at Level 3 in his past life.
"If I keep growing like this, I'd say there's a decent chance this body will one day hold ten mana circuits."
"What? Bwahahaha!"
Maxim burst out laughing at the young mage's audacity. A mage who had only just reached Level 3 had gone and brought up Level 10—a realm never once achieved in all of history.
But as he watched Maxim howl with laughter, Oscar's expression went flat.
Laugh it up while you can, Maxim.
Because one day, he would turn that mockery into astonishment and delight.