3-star (2)
Around the magnificent carriage that Margrave Belmiard was riding in, a large number of guards were tightly attached as an escort.
Even from far away, it gave off the feeling that a very noble person was riding inside, but from the margrave's point of view, this was actually a rather modestly sized escort force.
The guards stationed at the entrance of Ebelstein, upon seeing the seal of the Belmiard Family engraved on the carriage, all swallowed their dry saliva and stepped aside to open the road.
The servants had brought documents for identity verification, but they did not even glance at them. It was a presence so overwhelming that there was no need to even inspect whether he was really who he claimed to be.
Until the moment that massive carriage passed along the road on the outskirts of the well-managed commercial district, there was not a single person in the city who tried to block it.
Although it was drawing countless gazes, considering its status, this level of commotion was actually quite quiet.
'It seems Beltus or Duplein hasn't arrived yet.'
Sitting in the carriage, resting his chin on his hand and observing the street scenery, Margrave Belmiard was organizing his thoughts alone.
There were many reasons why the margrave had personally come all the way to Ebelstein with his precious body.
On the surface, it was because of the tariff agreement planned for the near future, but in truth, it was to seek out and meet Sir Drest Wolftail, the Great Mage.
Not only that, since he had come to Ebelstein anyway, he also wanted to meet his most beloved daughter, Ellente, and ask how she had been doing.
Normally, it was customary to send a letter in advance to announce one's visit, but Margrave Belmiard did not bother to do so.
Part of it was because he wanted to surprise his beloved daughter, and part of it was because he wanted to see for himself how she had been living.
How was she surviving in the ice-cold High Society of Ebelstein?
When he visited Ellente's mansion in the Noble Society district, filled with such worries, she was already sitting there, looking utterly dejected and drained of energy.
"Ah, Father."
Ellente, who had been sitting in the garden drinking tea with a haggard face, widened her eyes in surprise.
The one who was surprised was Margrave Belmiard as well.
*
"Ellente. If life in High Society is too hard, it's fine for you to come back to the mansion. It's good to broaden your connections here and there for the sake of your status, but I don't think you need to hurt your own heart just to do that."
Margrave Belmiard always put on a dignified expression and spoke in a bold manner in front of anyone, but when he stood before Ellente alone, he could not be more gentle.
He was the kind of person who could roughly tell what state she was in just by looking at her complexion.
Her face did not look good, and there was no vitality in her eyes—it was obvious that she had recently suffered a great emotional blow.
How could he, as a father, just stand by and do nothing?
Ellente was the jewel of the Belmiard Family, and the most precious asset that the margrave held dear.
No matter how life-and-death important one's standing in High Society might be for a noble lady, he did not think there was any reason for her to cling to Ebelstein while hurting her heart like this.
"Ah, no. Father. It's just that recently my achievements have been a bit lacking, so I was blaming myself, wondering if I had become lazy."
"Lazy? Ellente! You are the greatest pride of our Belmiard Family! To achieve so much at this age and to have grown this mature already…! Which bastard dared to spout such nonsense?"
"... Y-you don't have to praise me that much. And it's just… recently, I lost in a magic spar, so I was thinking about how I could raise my realm of magic a bit more."
"You lost in a magic spar? Ellente. You are a child with more outstanding magic skill than any noble young lady I've ever seen. How could such a thing happen?"
"That's… to the Young Lady of the Duplein Family…"
At those words, Margrave Belmiard was left speechless.
He soon pressed his temple and let out a deep sigh, then turned his thoughts toward how he should comfort Ellente.
If it was Aiselin Eleanor Duplein of the Duplein Ducal House, even Margrave Belmiard had heard that name often enough.
When Ellente said she had lost in a magic spar, he should have thought of that name first.
In fact, in this High Society of Ebelstein, the only noble young lady who could defeat her in terms of magic skill was probably Aiselin.
"Ellente. It may be a little hard right now, but if you keep training steadily, the day will come when the sun shines on you."
"Thank you for the encouragement, Father. Still, recently I brought in a magic master, and my magical achievements have increased quite a lot. You'll be surprised when you see my skills."
"A magic master… you mean Pelmier? I heard he's been spending time at the Belmiard mansion lately…"
"No. For a while, to prepare for a spar with Young Lady Aiselin, I brought in a mercenary from the Tavern District. At first I just called him to try using magic a few times, but he knew more than I expected, so I got quite a bit of help from him."
As Ellente listed her recent news, she carefully watched Margrave Belmiard's expression.
She had no idea how he would take it that she had taken a mercenary from the streets as her teacher.
No matter how bold and unprejudiced Margrave Belmiard might be, a noble was still a noble.
It was only natural for him to feel uneasy about a mercenary of unclear background becoming the teacher of his only daughter.
Just as Ellente had expected, Margrave Belmiard's eyes twitched slightly.
However, after seeming to fall into thought for a moment, he asked again.
"So, what kind of help did he give you, specifically?"
"Well… I learned magic theories that you can't learn just through noble etiquette, and… he showed me what kind of effort I should make if I really want to win, and the methodology for it."
"But you still lost to Aiselin. As for mentality, anyone can teach that."
It was a sharp tone.
It was rare for Margrave Belmiard, who loved his daughter dearly, to speak so bluntly.
Ellente sensed it immediately.
Through this exchange, he was trying to find something out and pass judgment on it.
Since there was no point in overthinking it, Ellente answered honestly.
"Being able to convey that properly is also an ability. At least, I… feel like my perspective has broadened a lot."
"......"
Margrave Belmiard rested his chin in his hand and stayed silent for a moment, then looked at Ellente's expression and gently closed his eyes.
Since he had read every single letter Ellente had sent him without missing one, he could roughly guess what her life in High Society had been like.
Whether it was when she was at the Belmiard mansion learning how to manage the territory, or when she came to Ebelstein to study High Society… in Ellente's eyes there had always been an ineffable, mysterious confidence overflowing.
But when you see the wider world and meet all kinds of people who are more skilled than yourself, that overflowing confidence often gets knocked down a notch.
To put it badly, you become discouraged; to put it well, your perspective broadens.
At such times, what kind of heart you hold determines the temperament you will carry for the rest of your life.
There is no such thing as a life that only goes straight forward, so what kind of mindset will you have when you are knocked down a notch?
Thinking that way, Margrave Belmiard could not help but retract what he had just said.
"All right. Ellente, maybe it's better for you not to return to the Belmiard mansion."
"Do you think so? Actually… I was thinking of staying in Ebelstein."
"Devote yourself a bit more to studying High Society. Aiselin of the Duplein Ducal House is certainly not an easy opponent, but I believe my daughter will succeed someday."
To drop everything here and take her back to the Belmiard mansion would mean wrapping up all of her journey in Ebelstein as a failure.
He could not do that.
Even if you worry a little, there are times when you have to let your child go out into the wide world.
Arms that only bend inward can never raise a great person.
Still, the psychology of parents is that they want to help as much as they can in the areas where they are able to.
"All right. If that mercenary really teaches magic that well, then maybe it would be better to have him exclusively employed by the Belmiard Family."
"I heard he belongs to the Veldern Mercenary Corps, but… the high-ranking retainers might oppose it."
"Does that matter? The most important thing is whether it helps my daughter's magic achievement or not."
Margrave Belmiard patted Ellente on the shoulder and laughed heartily.
"Just trust this father. He's just a commoner anyway, so if you stuff him with enough gold coins, he'll be persuaded. I should call the head butler separately first."
*
–Kwaang! Kwang!
"Hyah! Derrick! I-I'm going to get hit too…!"
A huge gust of wind swept across the area, and in the damp underground labyrinth, a storm of blood raged.
On the outskirts of Ebelstein. It was the lowest-level labyrinth, but a labyrinth was still a labyrinth.
Derrick, who had been killing the monster tribe one by one with a serious expression without letting his guard down, suddenly widened his eyes.
These were magics he had trained by killing monster tribes over and over again.
But today, for some reason, the very sensation he felt from mana itself felt strange.
The 2-star magic 'Fireball' that he usually fired to sweep away wide areas of enemies at once.
It felt as if that magic's power had increased a bit.
It was a magic he had used hundreds of times, so for that familiar sensation to become distorted now was not a very welcome thing.
However, the increase in firepower was no different from saying that his adaptability to mana had improved.
Rather than a negative change, it was a positive one.
Had the efforts he had repeated and accumulated over countless years finally borne meaning?
In the middle of the labyrinth, which had become a sea of blood, Derrick spread his hand wide and quietly looked at it.
"Derrick? What are you doing? More are coming from inside! Kyaa! If the distance closes, I can't handle it!"
Felnine quickly grabbed the Longsword that was tied at her waist.
Basically, as someone who supported combat from a distance with a bow, those goblin mobs that rushed in all at once were not a very welcome opponent for her.
She was not well-suited to enemies that pushed in with sheer numbers.
Derrick opened and closed his hand a few times with widened eyes.
Just a moment ago, the sensation of the mana he had drawn out from his body itself felt much more powerful than usual.
He soon gently closed his eyes and recalled that sensation in his mind.
As he devoured the Magic Books he had received from the Duplein Ducal House and practiced countless times, the image of the 3-star Combat-type magic, 'Fire Wall', was drawn in his mind.
It was a magic that did not simply take a spherical form and explode to attack enemies, but instead took the proper form of a wall, suppressing a wide area of enemies at once and then constructing a favorable battlefield.
Because it required much more delicate and precise use of mana, it was a magic that one could not even dream of using with mere moderate mastery, and no matter how extremely one trained their sense of mana, at his current level it was a reckless attempt.
However, an inexplicable confidence began to flow out from within.
It was as if the history of efforts he had accumulated repeatedly and habitually were softly speaking to him.
What if it were now? Now that his sense of mana was heated up to the extreme, might it be possible?
Within that vague confidence, Derrick's mana-filled eyes shone for an instant.
–Kwaang!
But what followed was nothing more than a simple series of explosions.
That alone would have been fine, but in an instant, more than half of the mana Derrick had been holding evaporated and disappeared.
–Kaaak! Kaak!
–Tadadak!
Derrick gasped for breath, grit his teeth, and grabbed his sword.
If you collapse from exhaustion in the middle of the battlefield, there is only death.
Facing the oncoming monster tribe, Derrick wiped off his cold sweat and clenched the hand holding his sword tightly.
His vision was becoming hazy, but he endured it with willpower and at least prevented himself from losing consciousness.
*
"You almost died? You, Derrick? And not somewhere else, but in such a low-level labyrinth?"
As Felnine made a fuss beside him and complained, Captain Jayden made an expression of disbelief.
In fact, Derrick was completely exhausted and had his face buried in the bar table.
Jayden, who brought a drink that helped with fatigue recovery, tilted his head and examined Derrick's condition.
It seemed that the talk about almost dying was just Derrick giving it too much meaning.
Since Derrick had a strong tendency to prepare perfectly even for trivial requests, he often made conservative judgments if there was even a slight disruption to the plan or an unexpected incident.
He seemed to be in a bad mood because he had struggled more than expected on a request he thought he could solve as easily as eating porridge.
"Ugh… halfway through, Derrick's mana was almost completely drained. So we postponed retrieving the request item until tomorrow, and broke through while fighting mainly in close combat without using mana as much as possible."
"With monsters of that level, you should have been able to deal with them somehow even in close combat, right?"
"That's true, but… we were tired too, so if we had let our guard down, who knows what would have happened. Felnine had a hard time too."
Jayden could only tilt his head, because he knew well that Derrick was not the type to let his guard down easily.
It was far too strange for Derrick, who had already matured as much as one could, to make a mistake in mana distribution.
"What happened?"
"In the middle… I felt a strange sense of discomfort in how I was using mana, and I ended up pushing myself too hard instinctively."
Saying that, Derrick once again spread his palm and stared at it quietly.
A strange sensation, like the pleasure of breaking through some kind of wall, or like discomfort, seemed to still remain.
"......."
Having a setback on such a trivial request deeply scratched at his pride as a mercenary.
However, separate from that, the thought that he might have just approached a new realm of magic was also rising up inside him.
More than half of his mana evaporated from just one use of magic.
It was similar to when Young Lady Aiselin, who had just learned 2-star magic, would fire off Fireballs and quickly become exhausted.
When you recklessly use a magic of a rank you are not yet accustomed to, the efficiency of mana usage itself drops drastically.
It was a phenomenon that mages in the middle of growth often experienced before moving on to the next rank.
The magic manifestation itself had failed, but had he perhaps come right up to the point of using 3-star magic just now?
Thinking that way, Derrick's heart began to pound strangely.
Now seventeen, with about a year left until he would become an adult—was there really a mage who had already reached the threshold of 3-star at such an age?
If you searched the entire continent, there might be a few, but at least among commoners, there would not be even one.
He had more than enough talent, and he had worked hard with clenched teeth.
There had not been a single day when he had not trained in magic.
It would not be strange if it was about time for some results to start appearing.
Still, it felt like something was just slightly lacking.
He was already running toward a lofty realm as a mage, but it felt like he was missing just one thin thread, unable to quite reach the realm of 3-star.
While feeling that inexplicable frustration, he also felt honest joy at the fact that the results of his efforts were beginning to show.
The desire for achievement that mages hold is on a different track from that of ordinary commoners.
–Kiiik.
It was just then, as Derrick was quietly staring at his palm.
Late at night, when the tavern was already closing.
Someone opened the door and entered the tavern where only Derrick and Felnine were sitting.
"Welcome. Sorry, but we're planning to close soon. Still, if you're just having a quick drink, that's fine."
"No problem. Give me one of your best, preferably something strong."
"Haha, today's last customer knows how to drink."
Rather than dawn, it was now closer to morning.
Even at such a late hour when there was no one walking the streets, there were always one or two customers who came to wet their throats.
The customer who came in, shaking off his robe, had a face that was hard to see, but judging from his voice, he seemed quite old.
Despite there being many empty seats, he deliberately came and sat two seats away from where Derrick was sitting at the bar table.
With Felnine on the opposite side, gulping down mead and bragging about today's exploits, Derrick, who had been quietly staring at his hand, glanced sideways at the customer.
His build was small.
The arm exposed beneath the hem of his robe was not just thin, but scrawny.
He was so dried up that it was a wonder how he even held his body upright.
Just by looking at the wrinkles on his hands here and there, it was clear that he had lived at least half a century.
People live in all kinds of ways, so it was not strange for such an old man to come into a tavern at this late hour and have a drink.
Derrick roughly stopped paying attention and closed his eyes gently to try to feel the mana flowing through his body again.
That was when it happened.
"There's no need to be impatient because it's blocked, and no need to force your way through. The essence of Wild School-type magic lies in following the natural flow."
The old man said such words in a frank voice, without any context.
Derrick looked at the old man again, and Felnine also turned her head with a puzzled expression.
However, the old man simply lowered his head, burying himself in his robe, and remained still.
"Excuse me?"
Derrick asked back.
What he meant was: who are you, and why are you saying such things?
But the old man did not answer and quietly pushed back the hood of his robe.
At that moment, Derrick's eyes trembled slightly.
Leaving the bewildered Felnine behind him, he had to forcibly restart the flow of thoughts that had almost frozen for an instant.
"Of course, I know very well how futile it is to tell mages to give up their desire for achievement."
"......"
A forehead full of wrinkles. Short-cropped hair. Cloudy, lifeless eyes. Drooping corners of the mouth. Parched lips.
Rather than a living person, he looked like a corpse that had come to life and started moving.
It would not be strange to say that he had lived not just half a century, but nearly a full century.
In fact, as far as Derrick knew, he was not a man with a very long lifespan left.
–Thud.
Jayden, who brought a drink from the kitchen, set it down in front of the old man.
The old man tossed out a brief word of thanks, took a quiet sip of the drink, and said:
"Is this Tobellon Mountain? The acidity is weaker than I thought."
"Oh my. You're a customer with a very refined palate. But unfortunately, it's not good manners to apply such strict standards to the remaining stock right before closing time."
"This is excellent. If I were a little younger, I would have kept drinking until I passed out."
The old man then turned his gaze toward Derrick and spoke.
"You have talent in Combat-type and Illusion-type, but you are a bit lacking in Summoning-type and Search-type. The amount of mana itself is excellent, but its flow is not completely opened yet. The efficiency weakens as the mana flowing inside your body goes toward the extremities."
"...."
"Considering your age, it's truly an astonishing level, but from what I see, you think too much when you use magic, boy."
Felnine widened her eyes in surprise.
Derrick also quietly listened to the old man's words.
It wasn't that no one had ever grasped Derrick's level at a glance before.
Duke Duplein had roughly gauged how much magical achievement Derrick had at their first meeting.
With about 4-star Search-type magic, you can roughly gauge the other person's level just by looking.
Of course, Search-type mages who had reached that level were hard to find even among famous noble families.
However, the old man's discernment had already surpassed even that level.
"A cautious disposition helps when exploring labyrinths, but it's different when using magic. When implementing the free-spirited mana usage of the Wild School-type, it's better to be a bit bolder."
"… May I ask your name?"
"Why ask when you already know?"
The old man even knew that Derrick had already seen through his identity.
Combat, Transformation, Illusion, Summoning, Search.
Excluding forbidden fields, the fields of magic were ultimately divided into these five major categories.
Humans have a habit of lining things up and ranking them no matter what they do.
When discussing who is the best mage in the world in each field, high-ranking nobles would argue back and forth and continue debating.
There were people who were widely acknowledged because of their high rank, but unanimous agreement was rare.
Someone would always offer a third opinion.
However, when it came to the greatest Search-type mage, no one raised any objections.
Because his background was unusual, it was hard to know his true worth unless you were a high-ranking noble, but once you did, no one ever refuted it.
"Drest Wolftail."
That was the name of this gaunt old man, who was taking a sip of beer right in front of him.
Because he could go anywhere he wanted and could never be caught if he did not wish to be, noble society often called him a drifting spirit.
Indeed, his intellectual gaze really did feel like looking at a ghost.