The Obsessive Regressor of The Academy

7. The City of Mages (2)

The massive ramparts of Weiheim were a creation of the mage Graimbel, who achieved the realm of Archmage through armed sorcery.

While common Arming Art could only conjure implements like swords, shields, or spears, Grimebell was a monstrosity who went even further, capable of creating fortresses and siege weaponry. He was a grandmaster who not only elevated the third-rate magic that was Arming Art to legitimate magic, but also devised an entirely new magical system for its use.

It wasn’t for naught that Grimebell was mentioned as one of the great mages who founded Wiheim. The League’s leader honored him by ensuring that those guarding Wiheim’s walls were solely composed of individuals proficient in Arming Art, just like Grimebell himself.

That tradition continues to this day.

“Is this a properly issued pass?”

One of the mages guarding the wall, Hans, asked, waving the pass the merchant had handed over. The merchant nodded with a confident air.

“What a question to ask. Of course, it’s a pass formally issued through the League.”

“Hmm…”

“Rather than that, please let me enter quickly. I’ve been waiting for over an hour already. It would be good to get in quickly for the sake of the people behind me as well.”

The merchant shouted, gesturing to the long line stretching behind him. But Hans remained unmoved.

He pulled out a perforated crystal orb, a standard issue for guards, and slipped the pass inside. It was a magical tool created to verify the authenticity of passes. If genuine, the crystal would emit a yellow light; if fake, a red one. The pass the merchant provided immediately glowed red upon entering the crystal.

There was nothing more to see. Hans clicked his tongue and tore the pass to shreds. The merchant, aghast at the merciless act, flushed crimson.

“W-What? What are you doing tearing it like that?!”

“Your pass was not genuine. Therefore, following due process, you are denied entry.”

“What kind of nonsense is that! How much do you think I paid for that pass!”

“Unless the pass was issued directly by the League, it’s likely a fake. Direct your fraud complaints to where you purchased the pass, and now, step aside. As you mentioned, there are many people waiting behind you.”

“Wh-What the—!”

The merchant approached Hans, veins bulging in his neck. But he couldn’t take another step. Before he knew it, a golden longsword hung from his waist where there had been nothing before. The longsword, constructed through Arming Art, radiated an ominous magical power simply by existing.

“…Shit.”

The merchant, swearing under his breath at Hans’s cool gaze, turned around. He boarded the wagon he’d arrived in and started heading in the opposite direction of Wiheim. Only when his retreating figure was out of sight did Hans turn towards the next visitor.

“…?”

It was then. Hans noticed a child, having broken free from the queue, walking towards the wall wearing a pointed hat.

Gazing at the towering walls with curious eyes, their shabby clothes juxtaposed against the expensive hat, their appearance was quite incongruous.

“…Haa.”

‘So many troublesome things today.’

Thinking so, Hans apologized to the mage who was next in line after the merchant, and called out to the approaching child.

“Hey—you.”

Even without raising his voice greatly, the magic-infused sound was more than enough to reach the child. The child turned towards Hans at the voice that gently resonated in their ears. As they did, their face, previously obscured by the hat, was revealed.

‘Quite handsome.’

That was the extent of his impression. Hans, as if bothered, gestured for the child looking at him to go away.

“Kid, if you want to enter Wiheim, get in line. Or just hold your mom’s hand.”

“No mom, though?”

The sudden, brutal strike landed. Hans felt the magician’s gaze, assessing him like refuse, and cleared his throat.

“Ahem… then join the line. Cutting in isn’t allowed, even if you say you were told to go ahead.”

“My teacher told me to come here?”

“Teacher…?”

*Teacher,* indeed. Hans narrowed his eyes, glaring at the child.

‘Has the boy developed delusions at that age?’

Becoming a magician’s disciple at such a young age? Not unheard of. But that was something for the children of the nobility, not some commoner dressed in rags like this one.

In the first place, people like him would be lucky to see a magician once or twice in their lives. Even nobles found them hard to come by, let alone commoners. And yet, *teacher*? A magician’s disciple, no less, with free passage through Wihyeim without formal entry procedures? It was absurd.

Even so, a sliver of doubt made Hans ask,

“What’s your teacher’s name?”

“Ena Renatus.”

“…Who?”

“Ena Renatus. She said everyone knows her if you mention ‘Cataclysm’?”

Of course, he knew the name. He knew the moniker “Cataclysm,” too. But Hans could only freeze in place at that moment.

The first reason was the name of such a powerful figure coming from the child’s mouth, and the second was the fact that, upon closer inspection, the hat the child wore was exactly like the one Ena usually wore.

Moreover, when he overlaid his eyes with mana, he could even see sparks of lightning emanating from the hat.

There was no room for doubt. There was only one person on the continent with such destructive and threatening electric-natured mana.

“I greet the disciple of Lady Ena.”

Hans immediately lowered his head towards Asel.

The disciples of grand magicians affiliated with the Alliance held high status in their own right. Thus, these first encounters were exceptionally important. Anything was permissible after the first, but the first meeting at least had to be in accordance to the tradition. That was simply how it was done.

Therefore, it was only natural for Hans to change his attitude so quickly. But Asel was at a loss for words at the sight of the hulking, unfamiliar man suddenly bowing before him.

“Uh, um…”

“…”

An awkward silence ensued. Asel scratched his cheek, staring at the slowly balding crown of Hans’ head, and Hans endlessly stared at the ground, blinking.

‘When is he going to tell me to raise my head?’

‘When am I supposed to raise my head?’

Thoughts running parallel passed through their minds. Asel had never spoken casually to someone so much older than him, and Hans never considered that Ena might have neglected to inform him of Wihyeim’s traditions.

The standoff continued until Ena and Evelyn returned, having shrunk down the carriage.

“…What are you doing?”

Ena blinked, eyes adjusting to the strange spectacle unfolding before her. Asel, seeing her reach for her hat, shook his head, a gesture implying even he was unsure what to make of it all. Ena lightly ruffled her student’s hair before turning her gaze towards Hans.

“Rise.”

At the softly spoken command, Hans immediately straightened up, though he avoided meeting Ena’s eyes directly. It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Hans believed in showing utmost respect to one of the most prominent archmages within Weiheim.

He knelt promptly on one knee, head bowed slightly.

“Greetings to the Grand Archmage of the Alliance.”

“Yes, well. May I proceed?”

Ena cut right to the chase. Hans responded as though accustomed to such curtness.

“Of course.”

“Good. Carry on then.”

“Yes, ma’am! Please, proceed with caution!”

Ena waved a dismissive hand at Hans and stepped inside the fortress walls. Asel and Evelyn followed close behind. Asel, passing the still-kneeling Hans, muttered a low, “Hang in there.”

Evelyn added her own two cents.

“What’s with the empty head?”

Hans couldn’t resist.

*Thwack.*

“Ow!”

*

“New external mana power sources, now available! Mages interested in testing, form a line this way!”

“Ancient magical grimoires recovered from the Mirror Realm will be auctioned today! All those interested are welcome to attend.”

“M-my master created a new elixir! It regrows lost hair—”

“Five gold coins!”

“Six gold coins! Bring it here, immediately!”

“Kyaa! Kyaaah!!”

The cacophony of voices echoed from all directions. Asel, strolling through Weiheim’s bustling district, observed his surroundings with keen interest. He’d anticipated a more serene atmosphere in a city of mages, but the streets proved surprisingly vibrant.

Shifting his gaze, he noticed towering golems lumbering along, their footsteps a heavy *thump-thump-thump*. Their backs were laden with shimmering, multi-colored gems, each an exquisite specimen, having nurtured mana for an extended period.

“Those are gems provided to the Gem-Wielders. The higher the gem’s quality, the more mana it contains, which increases the efficiency of their spells,” Ena explained, having noticed his interest. Asel nodded, murmuring an impressed, “Ah.”

Gem-Wielders, huh? So there were mages who channeled their magic through gemstones?

Asel wondered just how many different types of magic existed as he continued to follow Ena. Just then, something soared through the sky at high speed. A massive shadow fell across the earth, prompting Asel and Evelyn to tilt their heads back in unison.

*Whoosh!*

Soaring across the vast earth was a monstrous bird wreathed in flame. Its immense size and the torrents of heat it scattered around it filled one with a sense of wonder just to behold. Acel, mouth agape, stared at the bird circling in the sky.

‘A being made of mana.’

He instinctively understood the essence of the creature. Watching the battle between Jervil and Ena had awakened a faint magic within him, broadening his senses. He could now perceive not only the bird’s nature, but also the countless magical aftershocks reverberating throughout Wyheim, and even a faint sense of the barrier.

[Hmm?]

Then, the massive bird, sensing Acel’s gaze, tilted its head downwards. Their eyes met. Acel flinched at the sight of its blazing gaze, but the bird, unconcerned, scanned him up and down, muttering with amusement in its voice.

[Another strange monster has wandered in.]

The voice traveled to Acel on the currents of mana. To him alone, precisely. The messages sent by spirits were imperceptible to all but the intended recipient.

“……”

Ena, however, detected the subtle lingering mana and tilted her head slightly towards the bird. Meeting her blue gaze, the bird, called Parnin, twisted its mouth into a crooked grin and flapped its wings.

[On second thought, a monster brought a monster, didn’t it? A mage who tears the sky with lightning brought a creature along….]

“Parnin.”

Ena murmured the name softly. The bird, Parnin, burst into a cackling laugh.

[Alright, alright. I’ll be on my way. My contractor is already pestering me to hurry. Probably up to some strange experiment again.]

“……”

[See you around, then. Two monsters and a human.]

With those parting words, Parnin gave its wings a mighty flap. In that instant, it became a single flame and vanished beyond the horizon. Acel watched the crimson trail left in the sky, eyes shining. Ena watched him, then gave a small, knowing smile and turned away.

‘Let him be amazed for now.’

There was no need to rush over to Acel and tell him that Parnin was actually a high-ranking fire spirit who had fled the monotony of the spirit realm, and that its contractor was a mad arsonist.

Instead, she simply tapped Acel lightly on the shoulder. Acel, snapping out of his reverie, followed Ena as they began to walk again.

Roughly ten minutes passed. The bustling streets had given way to a dense forest that now surrounded the three of them. The gloomy atmosphere typical of forests was entirely absent. Only an abundance of mana and life force drifted through the air.

Acel, sensing the mana swirling gently around him, waved his hand lightly. Mana brushed softly between his fingers. Though not quite tangible, Acel felt as though a child was playfully begging to be played with.

The mana did not simply pass by, but gathered again around Acel, enfolding him.

Jervil’s words suddenly resurfaced in his mind. He had said Acel possessed an exceptional affinity for and sensitivity to mana. He didn’t know precisely what that meant, but Acel surmised that it might mean the mana was being friendly like this.

He hadn’t felt it in the slums, but now that he had awakened a faint magic and was in a place rich with mana, he could clearly perceive their presence. There was no sense of a distinct self, but the mana’s purity was certainly palpable.

‘Feels good.’

Acel brushed aside his bangs, feeling the lingering touch of the mana, and smiled faintly.

Ena, already aware of his talent, smiled softly at the sight.

Evelyn, on the other hand, wondered if something strange had suddenly happened to her younger brother, and covered her mouth with her hand. Acel, however, paid them no heed, relishing the mana that swirled around him.

After walking a little further, Ena suddenly stopped and spoke.

“Arrived.”

That composed voice pulled Asel from his mana-induced haze back to reality. He lifted his head, following Ena’s pointing finger with his gaze.

“It’s my home.”

A mansion stood there, imposing to the point of intimidation. A stark white bolt of lightning lashed roughly around the main gate, and electricity pulsed above the lightning rod fixed to the mansion’s peak, scattering thunderous sparks throughout the grounds.

*Pajik.* (sound of electricity)

Small sparks flew outward from where the lightning struck. Along with the sparks the magical tools strewn haphazardly about the garden began to writhe as if brought to life.

Something shaped like scissors trimmed overgrown branches, while a teapot poured white lightning, incinerating fallen leaves and twigs. Elsewhere, crashes of thunder echoed wildly.

No matter how one looked at it, it wasn’t a normal mansion. Asel gaped at the lightning bolts raining down around them, and Evelyn, her lips trembling, muttered softly.

“…Is this… an execution ground?”