The Hero’s Party Members Treat Me Well for Some Reason

The Street of the Castaways (4)

They say a genius mage has appeared at the Black Magic Tower.

“T-This, what inhumanity!!”

“Tremendous talent indeed!!!”

And that prodigy of black magic was none other than the Hero.

When I succeeded at the first curse spell I learned in a mere five minutes, the Archmage took me straight to where the Elders were. And then, immediately, he requested I demonstrate the magic again.

It wasn’t a difficult task, so I once more dyed the straw doll black.

And *this* was their reaction.

“Is it truly the case that you demonstrated the magic after only *hearing* the explanation?”

“Even having learned black magic before… to master curse spells so easily…”

“The mana density is remarkably stable, as well.”

“Well, come to think of it, I had a bad feeling from the moment I first laid eyes on him.”

It seemed they were quite surprised that the curse worked so quickly.

Though, of course, that was thanks to the Gift of Heavenly Demolition. Still, such praise was undeniably pleasing.

It was like being the protagonist of a web novel. ‘The talentless loser everyone ignored turns out to be a black magic prodigy.’

Hmm, a rather appealing title.

“Nay, even so, we cannot simply believe it outright. Perhaps he had learned some curses before?”

“Let us have him try something else.”

Indeed, I wasn’t entirely ignorant of curses.

As I mentioned before, [Pain Imprint] was a type of curse spell. I had a certain sense for it, so reaching this point wasn’t too difficult.

They seemed to know this as well, for this time they were going to teach me a completely different magic.

“This time, we will perform the Rite of Sacrifice.”

Perhaps due to their suspicions, this lesson was conducted in a public format.

Only one student: myself. And dozens of elders from the Magic Tower as spectators. As if these old fellows had nothing better to do, they had all gathered here to watch me learn magic.

“This is also the greatest reason our black magic was once ostracized. The Rite of Sacrifice, as the name suggests, involves drawing power not only from your own mana, but from other sources as well. Blood, a part of the body, or even the lives of others, you see.”

To be more precise, it was about squeezing out the mana contained within them.

Or transforming the body itself into mana. If used skillfully, one could wield magic beyond one’s own capacity, but the process of converting other things into magical power was never easy.

“Now then, here we have a dead frog and a straw doll. You mentioned you had learned fire magic before, Hero? Use it to burn this straw doll. However, you must not use a single drop of your own mana. You must only use the frog’s residual mana to burn it.”

But me?

I already grasped all the principles of the Rite of Sacrifice.

The skill [Authority of Sacrifice], which I had possessed since arriving here, was among the highest achievements in following those principles.

I’ve already experienced it dozens of times with my own body, so what could be so difficult?

Because of that, this one was easier than even a curse ritual.

“Heh heh…Since it isn’t mine, no matter what, this time it will take longer than last time…”

*Whoosh!*

The straw doll erupted in brilliant flames, cutting through the Archmage’s voice.

Even spoken nicely, sacrificial arts weren’t particularly efficient. Even Oleg, an expert in this field, burned through dozens of monster carcasses for a single skill, and even when *I* sacrificed ten years of my lifespan, the power that returned was only rat shit.

The mana remaining in a single frog carcass? Less than a gnat’s fart.

But even so.

‘Just a single doll.’

That alone was enough.

“A-ah, no!”

“That, that’s truly a god-given talent, isn’t it!”

From all corners, the elders’ voices rang with admiration. A genius who might appear only once every tens of thousands of years, as expected of a hero, and so on. Flattering words tickling my backside drifted in from here and there.

“How about formally joining our Magic Tower at this opportunity?”

Honey dripped from the Archmage’s deeply sunken eyes.

Just because he knew of curses didn’t mean they were invalidated.

Therefore, that wasn’t something akin to goodwill.

That was, to put it plainly, desire. A desire for black magic.

The desire of one who wanted to borrow another’s talent, even, to reach a higher place.

It was a sticky feeling, different from goodwill, but if it would benefit me, I didn’t care much.

“Forgive me. But I do have duties to attend to.”

“Still, it is quite alright. Surely, you will remain here for the foreseeable future, no? In the meantime, I shall diligently instruct you.”

And so, I came to dwell within the Mage Tower for a time.

The Tower Master’s focused tutelage was but a bonus.

*

It was my mistake to have asked the Saintess to secure me lodging.

For having found board and keep within the Mage Tower, such a place became utterly superfluous.

The chamber allotted to me was situated precisely at the midpoint of the tower. Newcomers to the Mage Tower usually occupied the lower floors, but it seemed that, as a Hero, I was granted a place at the center from the outset.

“Truly, you intend to reside there?”

“Indeed. There is much I wish to learn.”

“Hero, even so, the Obsidian Mage Tower… it might be somewhat perilous.”

As I prepared to enter the Mage Tower, my companions expressed their disapproval in their own ways.

Lily voiced her doubt, the Saintess displayed her concern, and in the cases of Adel and Camilla, they offered expressions bordering on disdain.

Indeed, it was none other than the Obsidian Mage Tower, after all. I could not say I failed to understand their reactions. From an outside perspective, the Obsidian Mage Tower likely appeared a breeding ground for criminals.

But of course, that was hardly reason enough to sway my resolve.

“… I’ll visit from time to time.”

“Yes. Perhaps Lily too possesses an interest in Black Magic?”

“Sorry, I respect it, but. I’m good.”

And so, I became a temporary acolyte of the Mage Tower.

Mostly, I kept close company with the Tower Master, attending to the lessons he imparted.

“Though you’ve grasped the principles of curse arts, you’ve yet to actually learn any magic associated with them. To elevate your mastery, a vast pool of knowledge is required, you see. I shall teach you a few basic curse magics.”

[Congratulations!]

[You have acquired ‘Curse of Weakening’!]

[You have acquired ‘Curse of Decay’!]

“Your proficiency with Pain Imprint magic is certainly remarkable. It’s understandable that you learn curse arts so swiftly…”

“I’ve been curious, though, why does the Pain Imprint magic manifest in the shape of a sword?”

“Because, the image most befitting the act of inflicting pain upon another is, indeed, a sword. Other tools might exist, but a blade is the most symbolic instrument for causing suffering, wouldn’t you agree? It seems that image has been etched into the magic itself.”

“…Hoo.”

“But this has also brought about an unexpected advantage. It has become easier to recreate weapons using Blood Construct Arts. The image is already ingrained, so all we need do is overlay the shape. And conveniently, there’s a perfect magic for it.”

“…Forgive me, but I already possess a Holy Sword.”

“Haha, one never knows what fate holds, does one? No harm in learning it. Let us try it.”

[Congratulations!]

[You have acquired ‘Bloodforged Armament’!]

[The level of ‘Pain Imprint’ has increased!]

Day by day.

The number of skills I possess increases with each passing day. The feeling of growing stronger as each day passes is quite pleasant.

I’ve also made acquaintances with a few researchers here.

Like the Lizardman mage who lives next door, or the Dark Elf warlock.

Or the beautiful witch whose face is half covered in burns.

Of course, I only knew her face; we weren’t exactly friends. Even if being unlikable was a virtue of a black magician, that didn’t mean I *wanted* to be friends.

Still, perhaps because I was revealed to be the hero. There were quite a few people staring at me as if I were an exhibit at the zoo.

Once, this even happened.

“Um, Hero-nim… would it be alright if I asked you a favor?”

“Hm?”

Around the time Lily and Yulis were visiting, someone addressed me.

That someone was none other than the scarred witch from the same floor.

Leaving my visiting party members behind for a moment, I asked her,

“What is it?”

“It’s a bit presumptuous, but… I’d like to obtain some of the Hero-nim’s blood. To use as an ingredient for a curse magic.”

“Wha?”

It was Lily who reacted to that.

“You’d use it for a curse? You think that’d even work? Luke, absolutely don’t give it to her. Research purposes are one thing, but she’s definitely going to use it for something bad!”

“……Hmm.”

But, despite her vehement opposition, I first asked her the reason.

“Who are you trying to curse?”

“Belfer… a baron of the Empire. Because of him, my younger sister died. I managed to escape by pretending to be someone else even after having acid thrown on my face, but my sister wasn’t so lucky. I want to avenge her grudge.”

“……Hmm.”

Belfer Baron, you say… I knew of him as well. I’d even met him at a banquet before.

He was part of the Empire’s First Prince faction, and a man with quite a wide network even amongst them.

It seemed, without a doubt, that she was born a slave.

Sold to Belfer, abused, but somehow, a survivor who had escaped to prolong her life.

“Okay, I acknowledge it.”

Upon hearing her story, I immediately offered her my blood. Quite a bit of it, in fact.

Making a cut in my palm, I filled a container, as large as my own face, to the brim. She greeted me with joyous thanks.

“Ah, thank you…!”

“Luke!”

Of course, Lilli beside me had a fit.

In any case, such things happened from time to time, and so life at the Magic Tower wasn’t so dull.

[Congratulations!]

[Level Up!]

And so, fulfilling days continued.

*

“Lady Adel, no matter how I think about it, I can’t understand.”

“…What is it?”

“Is he truly the Hero?”

Night had settled deeply upon the streets.

At a humble tavern, Adel was currently conversing with her kin.

Returning to her homeland after so long, she was letting down her guard.

And then, abruptly, the topic of the Hero sprang forth.

Adel turned to her companion.

“What is it?”

“Isn’t it too suspicious? A hero using black magic. And he doesn’t even try to hide it.”

“…Don’t worry so much. Still, they’re quite helpful spells.”

He had, in fact, taken down two of the Four Heavenly Kings. And he hadn’t betrayed her as she feared.

Of course, suspicions still remained, a great many of them… but she wanted to believe he was the true hero.

And to say she wanted to believe, meant she still did not.

“Do you truly think so? You can see it, can’t you, Adel? The essence of a person.”

As a saint could perceive a fragment of sin, she too, possessed a way to understand others.

She could see souls. Or rather, the color of souls. A power gained through decades of persecution, filtering out the people around her.

Generally, the darker the color, the more wicked the individual, and Luke, as she saw him, was darker than anyone.

Decades of accumulated data screamed that he was a villain. That’s why she couldn’t believe it.

“In the first place, he’s human, isn’t he? I can’t trust humans at all. They used to treat us so terribly… Adel-nim becomes part of the hero’s party, and suddenly they change their attitudes…”

“Hmm…”

Adel couldn’t agree with everything, but she agreed with certain parts.

Adel still couldn’t trust Luke. Especially not recently.

After defeating the Heavenly Kings, he now freely wielded their powers.

She still found it incredible that it was possible. No matter how talented one might be, to steal away a power like that… Did that even make sense?

And to add another point, Yulis and Lily had recently become particularly close to the hero.

As far as she could tell, there was no particular reason for it, but they had become friendly in an instant.

It was as if… a wall had sprung up between them and himself.

A cruel twist of fate, perhaps, that it was around this time he realized the Hero had mastered puppetry.

And so, a sinister possibility bloomed in his mind.

If… if the Hero had used that puppetry on his own party…

“………”

The night deepened.

Adel’s thoughts grew only darker.