Episode 1: I've Come to Introduce a Good Product! (1)
Mage.
It may be a rambling tale, but my dream since my earliest memory has been to become a mage.
I think I was about six years old.
I recall the faintly remaining scenes.
Crimson flames covered the plains.
The fire blazed, devouring the green wild grass.
And the sound of wind created by massive wings, and the ferocious roar that felt like it would tear my eardrums, still sends shivers down my spine.
Wyvern.
The fear I felt encountering that creature was so great that I mistook it for a Dragon.
In fact, for a long time, I believed the monster I saw was a Dragon, and only after time passed could I acknowledge that it was a Wyvern, not a Dragon.
Perhaps I remembered it that way to exaggerate the tale.
In truth, no memories remain of what came before or after.
I don't remember why I was in the plains, or how I met the Wyvern.
I simply faced death for the first time as the Wyvern's flames whipped around me.
Moment by moment, I swallowed tears as I felt the despair rising in my throat and the fear that stung my skin.
But this terrible memory soon led to a distant dream.
Even now, my heart trembles when I think back to that time.
The flames that had shot up from the Wyvern's throat rose up and enveloped the creature together with a man's voice.
Like a living serpent of fire.
I remember the moment when the creature's eyes, having turned from hunter to prey, distorted with the fear of death.
The creature was swallowed by the flames it had spewed and disappeared into ash.
Ash scattering in the air and beautifully colorful flames.
In that instant, all fear and despair transformed into a pounding dream.
The thundering sound of my heart echoed in my ears, and I had the illusion that time might have stopped.
A mage.
The first mage I had ever seen was such a being.
A symbol of overwhelming power that had burned the Wyvern, which had been my terrible despair.
When I came to my senses, the mage who had saved me was gone, but the afterimage in my heart remained and slowly bloomed.
A being who ignited a spark in my heart even before being my savior.
It became a dream of wanting to become a cool mage like him.
== == == == ==
“Sid! You damned brat, where the hell are you!”
“Chief! He's not over here!”
“Not over here either!”
A group of men fumed.
Among them, the largest man wrinkled his nose, unable to quell his anger.
Since he had just been called “Chief,” he appeared to be the eldest.
“Hoo, I warned him so many times not to bring up magic talk in front of the Abbot. And he spouted that crap again? I'm going to beat the hell out of him.”
“Please calm down, Chief. The Abbot said it was fine, so if you act like this...”
“Shut up! This is a matter of basic manners, even before the Abbot's opinion!”
This man, nearly two meters tall, was Diallo, infamous in the monastery for his ferocity.
Diallo flared his nostrils, thick veins bulging in his neck.
At his resolute attitude, the men around him also put on troubled expressions.
With their shaved heads and ashen monastic robes, they appeared to be monks.
Diallo's thick biceps, exposed past his sleeveless robe, twitched.
If anyone got caught by him, those robust muscles would likely do their job thoroughly.
Diallo scrunched up his face and surveyed the surroundings.
The monastery was situated on a high mountaintop, far from the village.
So the places a runaway could go were limited, yet he couldn't figure out where the person he was looking for had disappeared to.
Unable to contain his temper, he kicked a basket that happened to be at his feet.
Thud!
“Damn it!”
“Chief!”
Potatoes cascaded out from his kick.
The other monks hurriedly picked them up and put them back.
For monks who were supposed to restrain emotions and desires, it was undeniably a filthy temper.
Huffing, unable to suppress his anger, Diallo let out a sigh.
Even if he exhaled as deeply as if the ground would sink, his anger showed no sign of abating.
‘Hoo... If he shows his face at dinner, just wait!’
“Diallo. Are you here?”
At the deep, dignified voice, four shaved heads turned.
They simultaneously bowed their heads and showed courtesy to the owner of the voice.
Clad in black monastic robes with a long, flowing white beard.
Like the other monks, his head was shaved, but the atmosphere emanating from his deep eyes proved he was no ordinary man.
Even Diallo, who had seemed ready to explode at any moment, broke into a cold sweat.
“I apologize, Abbot. I should have done better... Today of all days, I will teach him a lesson. Please overlook this just once.”
“Hehe, no. Did I not say it was fine just now?”
“But Abbot! This is a matter of manners. Don't you know how many times this has happened? The brat is fifteen now; we can't keep letting him throw tantrums...!”
“I said it's fine. Father Antonio is looking for you. Everyone, go down.”
Unlike the tense monks, the Abbot chuckled and waved his hand.
At his gesture, the other monks including Diallo had no choice but to descend the stairs.
Abbot Cepheus of this high mountain monastery smiled brightly as he watched the four descending.
Only after the potato-like heads disappeared did he tap the basket beside him.
“They're all gone, you rascal.”
Despite his words, the basket remained silent.
Only after he kicked the basket once more did a timid voice leak out.
“They bad-mouthed mages first...”
With a small voice, a boy revealed himself from the basket.
Like the other monks, he had a shaved head and darkly tanned skin, but he was still a boy with a youthful air about him.
Cepheus took the boy's hand, raised him up, and smiled subtly.
“You rascal. That's because we are monks. Don't you know monks are king in a monastery?”
“But I've never heard of a monk who caught a Dragon? It's always mages, knights, and heroes who catch dragons!”
The boy who had met a Wyvern on the burning plains in the past.
Perhaps because the impression of the mage who saved him was so strong, the boy had nurtured only the dream of becoming a mage since that day.
It had already been nine years since he had nurtured this dream, even clashing with the other monks.
At the story that had been repeated many times, the old Father chuckled.
“Keke! That's right! I wonder why there are no monks who've caught dragons!”
Despite his laughter, the boy's sulky expression showed no sign of easing.
Cepheus unfolded a cloth from his bosom.
Two yellow, cooked potatoes, slightly cooled, were handed to the boy.
“If it were me, I would've eaten lunch before running away. Your brothers ate lunch before chasing you; what kind of runaway goes around starving, Sid?”
“Abbot...”
Sid.
This boy's name was Sid, the one the four monks had been searching for.
Sid put one of the potatoes Cepheus handed him into his mouth and chewed diligently.
Having skipped lunch and run around, his stomach was practically glued to his spine.
After devouring one potato, the boy stuffed the other into his mouth as well.
The subtle sweetness spread in his mouth just like the plump yellow flesh.
Having polished off two potatoes in that short time, Sid smiled bashfully at the Abbot.
“Come down with me. If you stay by my side, you won't get scolded until dinner, will you?”
“Yes! This time I'll run away after eating dinner!”
“Good. That's exactly what I wanted to say. Hehe!”
Cepheus took the boy's hand.
As the two descended the high stairs, a familiar voice rang out.
Seeing Diallo, who was helping Father Antonio, Sid stuck close to Cepheus's side.
Soon, Diallo's curt grumbling reached his ears.
“Anyway, the Abbot too. That's what happens when you indulge that kid's tantrums.”
At Diallo the eldest brother's words, the other monks nodded their heads.
The youngest constantly saying he wanted to be a mage was anything but cute.
“Still, don't torment him too much.”
Father Antonio opened his mouth.
A man with a lanky body and round glasses smiled awkwardly while shaking out laundry.
“No matter how much he wants to be a mage, Sid can't become one, can he? His innate mana capacity is low, around the level of an ordinary person. As he gets older, he'll realize his place. Until then, let him dream.”
There was no malice in his words.
He had simply expressed his honest feelings about the well-behaved monk and the troublemaking youngest.
Rather, one could even see it as a light goodwill, having told them not to obstruct his dream.
Of course, that was only if the person in question hadn't heard.
‘Oh no.’
Cepheus felt the heartbeat rising through the hand he held tightly.
He had thought such a day would come eventually, but he hadn't wanted it to be today.
Holding back a sigh, he lowered his gaze and saw the boy with his lips tightly shut.
In fact, Sid might have already known.
Even when the monks completed the Iron Fist and unlocked their basic abilities, there had been no results for the boy.
He had made excuses, saying he would become a mage so it was fine, that he didn't need the same monk abilities as his seniors.
Perhaps he had lacked talent as a monk, including magic, from the start.
Wanting to become a mage might have been nothing more than an excuse to overturn a suffocating and absurd daily life.
Cepheus did not let go of the small hand trying to escape his own.
Even as it grew sweaty and strained, he couldn't let go.
It felt as though he would lose the boy forever if he let go now.
“Hurk!”
Finally, a sorrowful gasp burst forth.
Cepheus, who hadn't thought the boy would burst into tears, momentarily let go of his hand.
The sorrow welling up in his chest burst forth, and the fifteen-year-old boy's dreams crumbled.
“Sid! What I just said was...”
Before Antonio could open his mouth, Sid ran back up the stairs he had descended.
Even Diallo, who had been determined to punish him, frowned, and Cepheus looked at the boy running up the stairs with a pained expression.
Sid, a boy who wanted to become a mage but had low mana capacity.
As an old monk, there was nothing he could do to help.
* * *
“Hoo, hoo!”
Sid ran up the stairs.
The peak, where only one large tree remained, was also a hideaway he visited whenever he wanted to be alone.
Regulating his breath, the boy reached the top, dropped to the ground to do push-ups, then got up and threw punches.
A healthy mind resides in a healthy body, was the saying?
Mana was the same.
Unless one was completely lacking in talent, a healthy body naturally harbored smooth-flowing mana.
Of course, it was a different technique from mages raising their circles, but the monks' mental training and physical conditioning also affected their basic mana.
“Haah, haah!”
After catching his breath for a moment, Sid awkwardly took a stance.
He soon recalled the magic tome he had secretly read from Cepheus and felt the mana gathering along his arm.
“I can do it, I can do it!”
Sid wasn't entirely without talent.
Being able to read a few lines from a book and mimic them was definitely a talent.
Of course, it also showed the effort, passion, and comprehension the boy had invested in reading and rereading the book.
Rustle...
Blue mana took shape along his hand.
Ice crystals like sleet soon gathered and emitted a brilliant light.
Then it burst futilely and vanished into the air.
It was the incomplete basic magic, 'Ice Bolt.'
“Hoo, again!”
The boy didn't give up and gathered mana once more.
As a faint blue light gathered and the surrounding temperature dropped, the light faded as if someone had flipped off a switch.
Like that light, the boy's expression darkened.
This was Sid's limit.
The lack of innate mana capacity.
Even using a clumsy 'Ice Bolt' once left him with no remaining mana for the next spell.
Sid recalled the sensation in his palm and attempted 'Ice Bolt' several times.
But his depleted mana did not respond, and only a quiet silence pained his heart.
He would probably have to wait at least an hour before attempting the next spell.
“Why...”
The boy felt his cheeks burning red.
When bead-like tears flowed, he felt only despair at the unfairness.
The moment talent betrays dreams and effort.
An emptiness hard to understand without experiencing it washed over him.
“Why!”
It wasn't that he couldn't use magic at all.
Nor was it that he hadn't put in effort.
Even so, the only magic allowed to him was the 'Ice Bolt' that vanished into the air.
Deep sorrow at having his own dreams and efforts denied lapped at the edges of his heart.
Because he had believed he would succeed, the pain in his heart was indescribable.
“Uraaah!”
Crack!
The boy threw his trembling fist.
Leaves fell from the greatly shaking tree below.
Of course, because he had struck without regard for his condition, red blood oozed from his fist.
Though thanks to the basics he had learned as a monk, the tree wasn't exactly unharmed either.
“Hng...”
The boy leaned against the tree and let out the despair he had been holding back.
His resentment burst forth at the fate that determined his limits.
If only someone would give him a chance, he would do his best.
If only he could increase his mana capacity, he could help others like the mage from ten years ago.
Sid clenched his trembling fist and muttered.
The boy's hot tears flowed down under the tree where he pressed his head.
“If there is a God, please give me a chance. Please... I'm trying so hard.”
Despite his desperate wish, the leaves fell futilely.
“Huh?”
But this is not a story about despair.
Like an exaggerated tale from a fairy tale, the opportunity the boy wished for came.
Soon, something shining brightly descended before the boy's eyes as he came to his senses.
A thin, rectangular object.
It was a strange monstrosity whose form he didn't know what to call.
Shaah...
It wasn't rolled up like a scroll, and it was too thin to be called a grimoire.
The only word that came to mind upon seeing it was 'mysterious magical artifact.'
The object emitted tremendous light and settled into the boy's hand.
Then, as if revealing that its identity was hope, the magical artifact let out a cheerful fanfare.
Sid was so startled by the suddenly bursting music and light that he nearly fell over.
[Boom-ba-da boom!]
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-To be continued in Episode 2-