Chapter 123 - Damn Reincarnation

The Hearing

The Witch's Sweet Slumber.

Hera of the Red Tower had recommended it as the best dessert shop in Pentagon. It did not take reservations, so the line stretched out the door... but status, fame, and money could make even a place like that accept a reservation.

“They're so... so pretty!”

Seated beside a third-floor window with a lovely view, Mer gazed at the colorful desserts arranged on separate plates, her eyes sparkling like a starry sky.

“They're delicious!”

The macaron was stuffed with an excessive amount of cream. The filling looked sweet enough already, yet it was also packed with chocolate chips, and its smooth shell was so vividly colored that it hardly looked like a dessert.

Mer nibbled at the thick macaron, making a tremendous fuss over it.

“Nobody's going to steal it. Slow down.”

“Why should I? I won't choke or get indigestion even if I eat fast.”

The size of her mouth, however, was another matter. No matter how wide little Mer opened it, there was a limit to how much macaron she could cram inside.

So she chewed quickly, swallowed, and took another bite. Mer never felt full. Everything she ate was broken down by mana and disappeared the moment it passed through her esophagus.

She was deeply grateful for a body made that way. Didn't it mean she could eat delicious sweets endlessly without gaining any weight?

As she happily pondered which of the various cakes before her to eat next, Mer's expression turned icy.

“No.”

SMACK!

Her hand lashed out as fiercely as if she were swatting a gnat, striking the back of Melkith's hand.

“I ordered this.”

“How stingy!”

Melkith glared at Mer, her eyes wide.

“I'm not stingy. White Tower Master, you're an uninvited guest. Neither Eugene nor I gave you permission to join us. Yet you shamelessly insisted on following us and finally planted yourself in that seat.”

“... I am Melkith El-Hayah, the White Tower Master. In this nation of mages, there is nowhere I cannot—”

“You truly are shameless. Do you believe your position as White Tower Master excuses your rudeness? Even if it does, even if that's what you believe, it isn't something you should say yourself.”

Mer cut into a cake layered with chocolate cream using her fork.

“Of course, I've known you were shameless for twenty-eight years.”

“... Twenty-eight years?”

“Have you forgotten? The summer twenty-eight years ago. When you first entered Akron, just before you became the White Tower Master.”

Melkith went pale. She manipulated the mana around them to keep their conversation from escaping the table.

“You strode up to Witch Craft so confidently, and exactly six minutes and twenty-one seconds later, you collapsed on the spot with a nosebleed and wet yourself.”

“... I lasted ten minutes.”

“No. Six minutes and twenty-one seconds. I'm certain. Of the current tower masters, only you and the Blue Tower Master, Hiridus Uzlen, wet yourselves after encountering Witch Craft. At least the Blue Tower Master lasted eleven minutes.”

“...”

“As Lady Senya's familiar, I'm proud that the archmages of this age fail to understand Witch Craft and wet themselves. But you ought to clean up your own bodily fluids, shouldn't you? The Blue Tower Master did. You, however, ran away without cleaning up. Shamelessly!”

Mer continued assailing Melkith as she nibbled her cake, her shoulders trembling as she struggled to cope with its overwhelming sweetness.

“I... I, the White Tower Master...!”

Melkith's hair stood on end.

“Must endure this humiliation! Just because! I tried to eat one piece of cake?!”

“Good grief, you're loud. I'll give you one, so please be quiet.”

With a deep scowl, Mer pushed her partly eaten cake toward Melkith.

“Kyaaaagh!”

Unable to contain her fury, Melkith screamed. It was a scream Eugene had heard several times before.

“... Honestly. Talking about piss and bodily fluids at the table...”

“You can be proud, Eugene. You entered Akron at least twenty years younger than the White Tower Master, and you didn't wet yourself in front of Witch Craft.”

“How can you eat cake while talking about that disgusting stuff?”

“This cake is incredible. It's sweet, but not sugary. It doesn't cling to your tongue—it just melts away cleanly. Here, look at these gorgeous layers of cream! How is this possible?”

“Magic. This shop's pastry chef holds dozens of patents for baking magic. The layers of cream look identical at first glance, but each has magic added to give it a different flavor.”

Melkith explained with a pout.

“... No wonder.”

Mer nodded and glanced at Eugene.

“So that's why Eugene is glaring at the cake as though he wants to murder it.”

“... Isn't he just staring because he wants some?”

No. Eugene had no interest in the sweetness of the desserts Mer was admiring. Ever since his previous life, he had preferred rich, salty, and spicy food to sweet desserts.

The reason he was staring nonetheless was...

“... Hmm...”

Squinting, Eugene slipped a hand into his cloak and grasped Akasha.

“Hmmm...”

Mana stirred. Realizing what Eugene intended to do, Melkith became intrigued. This magic was patented. Spells of this kind were not shared with others. The Witch's Sweet Slumber was called the best in Pentagon because its competitors could not reproduce its flavors.

'The formula isn't public knowledge. Flavor-altering magic is a niche field that people outside the industry never even encounter.'

It was also difficult. If she had to classify it, it would fall under enchantment, but unlike the tools and weapons commonly enchanted, food was far too fragile a medium. Even a slight error in mana control or the formula could make it fall apart, spoil, or taste dreadful.

'It's practical, in a sense, but its limitations are clear compared to the effort it takes. Ultimately, all it does is make food taste good... Has that boy learned this sort of magic too?'

Perhaps his youth really did leave him brimming with vigor. Melkith chuckled and sipped her black tea. Investigation and experimentation were virtues every mage should possess. There was no way he knew the shop's magical formula; apparently, he wanted to try adding another one...

'I'll laugh at him.'

Of course he would fail. If the magic were that easy, this shop could never have reigned supreme for ten whole years. Melkith stocked up on mockery for Eugene.

“... Hmm.”

Eugene's finger brushed the cake. A tiny glimmer appeared, and Melkith's eyes widened. He had not added a different magical formula. If he had, the two formulas would have clashed and the cake would have collapsed.

'He added the same formula?'

Melkith hastily reached out and plunged a finger into the cake. Watching her, Mer's face twisted in utter disgust.

“How filthy!”

Melkith paid no attention to the rebuke.

'It isn't falling apart. What about the flavor?'

She put the cream she had scooped up with her finger into her mouth. The flavor had not changed dramatically. There was a slight disharmony... but even so, it was astonishing. How on earth had he done it? Melkith stared at Eugene, analyzing how the lingering “flavor” differed from before.

“Are you a regular here?”

“It's my first visit.”

“What was that spell just now?”

“I just looked at it and copied it.”

“... You know how absurd that sounds to a mage, don't you?”

“It's not as easy as I expected,” Eugene answered with a chuckle. “I dismissed it because it was just a spell on a piece of cake.”

“... From your perspective or mine, it certainly isn't impressive magic. But it isn't trivial, either. This sort of magic requires profound mastery to use properly, even if its circle is low.”

Melkith tucked her chin in, her expression complicated.

“... You looked at it and copied it. There's no way you could have seen the formula beforehand... Is this Akasha's power?”

“I've become able to understand most spells just by looking at them,” Eugene said, pointing to his eyes. “I've tested it a few times. I can understand anything up to the Fifth Circle by looking. From the Sixth Circle onward, it doesn't work so well.”

“... Doesn't work so well?”

Melkith laughed in disbelief.

“That means you can at least sense the magic, even if it's above your own circle.”

“That's right.”

“... That isn't something to answer so casually, kid. Don't you realize what an enormous advantage it is to detect higher-circle magic in a magical battle?”

Eugene said nothing, merely grinning. That grin filled Melkith with an unsettling fear.

Eugene Lionheart. For now, the boy was no match for her. However undignified her behavior, Melkith was a great spirit mage contracted with two Spirit Kings and an archmage who had reached the Eighth Circle.

'... Only twenty years old. Martial talent worthy of being called the second coming of Vermouth the Great, the Red Tower Master's disciple, and the successor of Senya the Wise who reached the Fifth Circle in just three years.'

Now that he had become Akasha's master as well, Eugene's mastery of magic would advance even faster. Melkith could not imagine what circle he would have reached even a year from now.

'... He can even cast spells above his own circle. My level would be beyond him, but... perhaps... if he used everything at his disposal, not just magic, he might be able to fight someone at the Seventh Circle.'

It might be an insulting way to describe a Lionheart, but Melkith thought Eugene's talent was diabolical. His youth and talent... honestly, she coveted them. Anyone would be captivated by such a promising prospect. Melkith smacked her lips, her expression conflicted.

'If only he weren't the Red Tower Master's disciple, I'd snatch him right up.'

She could hardly steal someone else's disciple. But there was no harm in forging a close relationship. Melkith had no nasty fondness for crushing talented juniors. On the contrary, she wanted to lend that talent a little assistance and someday benefit from Eugene's success.

“I'll teach you spirit magic.”

Having finished deliberating, Melkith spoke.

“I've been refusing all this time. Tempest doesn't like you, Lady Melkith.”

“... That... is terribly...! Heartbreaking! But!”

Grinding her teeth, Melkith glared at Eugene.

“I'm offering to teach you spirit magic! For nothing! I don't want to force a contract on a Spirit King who doesn't want one, either. I promise. I won't touch Wynnyd or hit on Tempest when you summon him.”

“...‘ Hit on’ is quite a choice of words.”

“Oh, whatever! I, Melkith El-Hayah, am offering to teach you spirit magic without asking anything in return!”

“I'm not inclined to trust favors with no strings attached.”

Eugene tilted his head with a smile. What an infuriating brat. Melkith smiled back and folded her arms.

“... Truthfully, it isn't as though I want absolutely nothing in return. I hope my generosity will bring us closer.”

“I think we're already very close, Lady Melkith.”

“So you're not going to learn spirit magic?”

“If you'll teach me, I'd be grateful to learn.”

He had no intention of refusing. At Eugene's answer, Melkith laughed heartily and nodded.

“Good. I can't do it right now, but I'll come visit you soon.”

“Why can't you do it now?”

“My spirit magic uses lightning and earth spirits, and you aren't contracted with either. I think you'd be better off contracting with a lightning spirit than an earth spirit, but you have no affinity for lightning spirits.”

“And?”

“I told you earlier, didn't I? Once you're contracted with the Wind Spirit King, affinity for spirits isn't particularly important. You can't contract with the Lightning Spirit King like I have, but you can contract with up to an intermediate lightning spirit. Provided I prepare a catalyst and arrange the contract.”

Eugene did not answer immediately, taking a moment to consider.

[“Lightning spirits are powerful. Even an intermediate one would be superb when combined with your abilities.”]

Tempest chimed in inside his head.

[“Especially with that weapon of yours, Pernoa, the Lightning Bow. Adding a lightning spirit would amplify its power while reducing its mana consumption.”]

'It would.'

[“Hamel. Don't you already have a technique called Lightning Counter? If you added lightning to it, it wouldn't just be lightning in name. You'd have a truly flashing Lightning Counter—”]

'Will you shut your fucking mouth?'

Eugene's face contorted as he shoved Wynnyd into his cloak.

“... I won't be staying in Aroth indefinitely. The hearing is over, and I was planning to return today or tomorrow.”

“Then go back. What does it matter? You'll be at the Lionheart main estate anyway, won't you? That works out nicely. I'm interested in those elves at your estate, too.”

More precisely, she was interested not in the elves but in the trees he had reportedly brought back with them. Given that they came from deep within the Great Forest, they must be fairy trees, which grew only near the elves' domain.

'If I cling to him and pester him enough, he might break off a branch for me.'

Fairy-tree branches were materials one could not obtain simply by wanting them. Extremely few were currently in circulation, and even those had mostly undergone initial processing.

“Eugene.”

While Eugene and Melkith were talking, Mer had polished off the entire mountain of desserts. She dabbed the whipped cream from her mouth with a napkin, her eyes sparkling.

“May I have some more?”

“... Aren't you sick of it?”

“Eugene, I didn't eat anything for two hundred years. Do you really think I'd get tired of the taste after just a few pieces of cake?”

“It wasn't just a few pieces...”

Eugene surveyed the empty plates incredulously. Even so, he could not tell her to stop eating. He nodded reluctantly, and Mer beamed as she clung to his arm.

“Thank you!”

Melkith stared sulkily at Mer. Senya the Wise's familiar. The Mer she remembered had not been so lively and adorable. Admittedly, that was partly because Melkith had wet herself in the Hall of Senya, but nevertheless, the stark contrast with Mer's treatment of her left her disgruntled.

'... Even a familiar has a female form... Does she like handsome young men?'

No, that behavior was more like a daughter fawning over her father...

'... Wait... That familiar has existed for well over two hundred years.'

Her mental age was fixed because she was based on a childhood personality, but still... Melkith scratched her cheek, perplexed.

“There you are.”

Just as they were about to call a server to order more, someone approached the table.

“How nice to see you at leisure, Eugene Lionheart.”

The Green Tower Master, Generic Osman. As he approached, Melkith narrowed her eyes and rose from her seat.

“Green Tower Master. I'm having some rather insulting thoughts about you right now.”

“I won't rebuke you for rudeness. Your suspicions are probably correct.”

“... Hah! Are you serious? The hearing is over, and Aroth's royal family has acknowledged it...”

“I do not acknowledge it,” Generic snapped, glaring at Eugene. “Even if Lady Senya acknowledged you and transferred ownership of Akasha to you, as head of the Osman family and master of the Green Tower, I must assess you myself.”

“Pathetic.”

Melkith gave a derisive laugh.

“I've never cared much for that pride of yours, Generic Osman.”

Senya the Wise had taken three disciples.

One of them had been Lovellian's teacher's teacher and the Red Tower Master two generations before the current one.

The other two had remained in the Green Tower, married each other, and had a child. That was the origin of the Osman family. Their child had served as the previous Green Tower Master, and his son was the current master, Generic Osman.

In other words, Generic possessed the bloodline most closely connected to Senya the Wise in Aroth. That was why he was hostile to Lovellian. Without Lovellian, only the Osman family would be able to claim legitimate succession from Senya the Wise in Aroth.

... But now that Eugene had become Akasha's master and Senya's successor, the Osman family could no longer claim that legitimacy.

“Do you intend to defy Lady Senya?”

Eugene looked at Generic without rising from his seat. But Generic did not back down, continuing to glare at him.

“I,” Generic began, “believe that the successor of Senya the Wise ought to be the greatest mage of the age.”

“Pathetic,” Melkith spat. “And arrogant. The greatest mage of the age? Don't tell me you believe you're that mage?”

CRACKLE!

Electricity coursed around Melkith.

“With me standing right here?”

She glared at Generic without concealing her hostility. Despite her fierce gaze, Generic remained unperturbed and snorted.

“Not right now, but whenever you wish, I'll be happy to establish our ranking, Melkith El-Hayah. I consider you a mage worthy of respect, but I do not consider you superior to me.”

“... Ahaha! Have you grown so old you've gone senile? If that's really what you think—get outside right now!”

“I believe I told you. Not right now.”

Generic's eyes turned icy.

“What I want to determine today is not which of us is superior. It is which of us, Eugene Lionheart or I, is more suited to be Lady Senya's successor.”

“You have no right to make that claim, Green Tower Master.”

Mer, who had been beaming just moments ago, was no longer smiling. Her face cold and rigid, she confronted Generic.

“Indeed, questioning his qualifications at all is arrogant and ridiculous. Because you have no qualifications whatsoever.”

“... What?”

“Neither you nor your father has any right to call yourselves Lady Senya's successor. Your grandfather, Vice Osman, and your grandmother, Prilla Helen, were her disciples, but that doesn't mean their child could claim to be her successor.”

“...”

“If anything, I would consider it fitting for the Red Tower Master, Lovellian Sophis, to call himself Lady Senya's successor. At least Lovellian and his teacher respected me as her familiar.”

“A mere familiar dares...!”

“Yes. I am a mere familiar. Even if that's true, you mustn't look down on me that way if you claim to be Lady Senya's successor. I remember a hundred and twenty years ago. How your father dismantled me. How presumptuously he behaved, claiming he would uncover Witch Craft's source.”

Generic's face twisted.

“My father did it for Lady Senya. Fully understanding the Witch Craft she left behind was his way of mourning her!”

“Mourning? Lady Senya isn't dead. She is alive, and she acknowledged Eugene as her successor.”

“Enough,” Eugene said. “So what you're saying, Green Tower Master, is... that I'm unfit both to own Akasha and to be Lady Senya's successor... Is that it?”

Eugene pushed his chair back and stood.

“Well... I'll accept that criticism graciously. Legitimacy aside, it's true that I'm an inferior mage to you, ‘for now.’”

“... For now?”

“You ought to consider our ages. Even now, isn't it pathetic and shameful for someone who's lived at least fifty years longer than I have to question this youngster's qualifications?”

The corners of Eugene's mouth twisted upward.

“Honestly, I don't know what you want to accomplish. Are you saying I should hand over Akasha because I'm currently an inferior mage? Do you sincerely believe that's right? Or are you so blinded by greed and jealousy that you want to steal Akasha, even if it means rebelling against the Lady Senya you claim to respect?”

As he asked, Eugene slipped a hand into his cloak.

“Do you truly think this stubbornness of yours is justified? You may think so, but nobody else will. How will you persuade Aroth's royal family, for starters? They must be worried that Lady Senya will sink Abram.”

“... Lady Senya is a mage, too.”

Generic glared at Eugene with wide eyes.

“She met you, but she has not met me. If my abilities surpass yours, would she still have chosen you as her successor?”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

“Let's have a contest.”

Generic looked beneath the lifted cloak. Akasha. Eugene's hand was resting on the staff.

“Of course, given the vast difference in our abilities, a contest would not be fair. Therefore, I will impose a restriction on myself and use only spells up to the Sixth Circle.”

“And me?”

“Use every ability you possess. Lionheart martial arts, magic—either is fine.”

Naturally, an Eighth Circle mage did not become a Sixth Circle mage simply by limiting themselves to Sixth Circle spells. Depending on how they were used, even lower-circle spells could rival higher-circle magic. Reaching the Eighth Circle was not a matter of wielding many powerful spells in the first place.

It depended on how deeply one understood magic. That was why the barrier to the Eighth Circle was so high, and why those who crossed it were called archmages.

“What if I refuse?”

“Will you refuse?”

“Of course not.”

With a snort, Eugene picked up a crumpled napkin from the table.

“If I lose, I'll leave Akasha in Akron.”

“... Transfer it to me.”

“No. I can't do that. It belongs to Lady Senya. I'm merely holding it for her.”

Generic's face contorted at those words. He opened his mouth to say more, but no sound emerged.

The napkin Mer had used to wipe her mouth, stained with whipped cream, struck Generic in the chest.

“I'll indulge your unreasonable demand, Green Tower Master.”

The napkin fell from his chest.

“If I win, apologize to Mer.”