Chapter 124 - Damn Reincarnation

Green Tower Master

Inside the spacious flying carriage, Mer sat beside Eugene, fidgeting aimlessly with her fingers. No matter how she thought about it, she simply could not accept this situation.

Akasha belonged to Senya. So did Witch Craft and everything in the Hall of Senya. Although they were housed in the royal library, Akron, Aroth’s royal family could not claim ownership of them. They had no right to. Aroth had received far too much from Senya.

The magic kingdom of Aroth had a long history. Its founder, the Magic King, had reached the pinnacle of Ancient magic and was called humanity’s first archmage. Since then, Aroth had produced many great mages.

Yet none had influenced the entire discipline of magic as Senya had. None had defeated a Demon King in a human body as she had. Aroth had been able to firmly establish its reputation as a magic kingdom because Senya had settled there after returning from Helmuth.

For three hundred years afterward, countless mages and aspiring mages had settled in Aroth out of admiration for Senya. That had continued even after she went into seclusion, right up to the present.

'... The royal family accepted it.'

Mer’s lips pushed out in a pout. Of course, that acceptance had come because of the threat to sink all of Abram underwater. Still, what mattered was that they had accepted it.

'Crown Prince Honein apparently intended to hand Akasha over from the start. If that old chancellor hadn’t made such a fuss, the transfer would have gone more smoothly.'

That should have been the end of it.

“... Sir Eugene.”

Mer hesitated before speaking.

“You didn’t need to indulge the Green Tower Master’s stubbornness.”

Generic Osman, the Green Tower Master, was a mage steeped in a sense of superiority.

His father, the previous Green Tower Master, had been the same. Mer remembered what a nasty, dreadful mage he had been. Claiming it was for magic and Lady Senya, he had secured the royal family’s consent and treated Mer strictly as a familiar—no, as an object.

Aroth had acknowledged Akasha’s transfer, but Generic had not. The pride in his bloodline instilled in him from birth prevented him from accepting what he ought to accept. He had always believed and insisted that he was the rightful successor to Senya the Wise. He had never doubted that Akasha, which he could not even use, was a staff he would one day wield.

“No matter how irritated or angry the Green Tower Master got, he had no right to claim ownership of Akasha. And he had no way to take it by force, either.”

“I suppose not.”

“The duel itself is unreasonable and absurd in the first place. No one would call you a coward if you refused. They’d think the Green Tower Master was pathetic for forcing a duel on someone so much younger and less senior.”

“Yeah.”

“... Even if he absolutely refused to back down, you still didn’t need to duel him. The Red Tower Master—no, every tower master except the Green Tower Master would support you. Ironically, the other tower masters respect Lady Senya more than the Green Tower Master, who calls himself her rightful successor.”

Eugene merely chuckled without answering. Sitting across from him, Mer watched him with anxious eyes and needlessly hunched her shoulders.

Mer remembered the moment Eugene’s demeanor had suddenly changed. When Generic appeared without warning, Eugene had not led the conversation. It had been Mer and Melkith El-Hayah, the White Tower Master, who argued with him.

[“A mere familiar dares...!”]

When Generic lost his temper and spat those words, Eugene’s expression had changed. When the subject of Generic’s father dismantling Mer to uncover the source of Witch Craft arose, Eugene had stood up.

“... Is this because of me?”

Mer could not help asking, hesitant though she was. There had been no need for him to step in like that. She had not said those things to spur him into action. A mere familiar? Hearing that sort of thing did not bother her. Eugene had told her she was not merely a familiar, but she had already endured more than enough of those words and that treatment.

So they were only trivial words. Hearing them once more did not matter. If Senya truly considered her a daughter, and Eugene told her she was a human rather than a mere familiar, that was enough.

“It’s simple.”

Eugene chuckled as he spoke.

“That bastard of a Green Tower Master pisses me off.”

Eugene—

Hamel was that sort of person. He might try to hold back at first, but once someone crossed the line he had drawn in his mind, he could no longer contain himself. His flaring temper would drive him to do something.

It had been the same seven years ago, when he first visited the Lionheart main family for the Bloodline Succession Ceremony. Back then, Eugene had not wanted to get into an unnecessary quarrel with the main family’s twins.

But when Cyan brought up Gerhard—his father—he had lost patience and accepted the duel.

“... Pfft!”

Melkith, who had been listening quietly, burst out laughing. Clutching her stomach, she cackled and nodded.

“Right. Just as you said, that bastard of a Green Tower Master pissed you off. Nasty old man. Why do you think he chose today of all days to come find you?”

“Because Master Lovellian is away.”

“Exactly. If the Red Tower Master had stayed at his tower, do you think the Green Tower Master would have come to you spouting nonsense about a duel? That bastard probably agonized over it even when he saw me with you.”

“But he still came over and spouted nonsense in the end. Oh, was that because he thinks you’re beneath him, White Tower Master?”

“... Heh! If so, Generic really is a fucking idiot. I guarantee there isn’t a single current tower master who’s a worse mage than him. And it’s not just the tower masters. Trempel Wizardor could probably beat the shit out of Generic in under ten minutes.”

That surprised Eugene a little. His impression of Trempel had not been of such an impressive mage. He was an old mage who had long pestered Eugene, following him around calling him ‘Lord Eugene’ and making jokes that weren’t the least bit funny. That was the sort of man he was.

“... Hmm. Kid, I think I can tell what you’re thinking from your face. Despite appearances, that old Trempel is quite something. The commander at the head of the court mage corps is Aroth’s foremost battle mage.”

“He certainly doesn’t look it.”

“He’s gotten old, there’s no higher position left for him in his field, and we’re not at war. He’s mellowed. Anyway, Generic probably barged in while I was there because he wasn’t sure about the relationship between you and me.”

“If I’d refused and the Green Tower Master kept insisting, would you have taken my side?”

“That question isn’t even worth asking. But you didn’t refuse, did you? That’s why I’m here with you.”

Melkith smiled brightly as she spoke.

“There are more spells than anyone can count. Mages who learn them and claim a place among archmages each have a unique spell you could call their ‘signature.’ You know the Red Tower Master’s Pantheon, right?”

“I do. Though I haven’t learned it.”

“You’ll have to truly reach the Eighth Circle to inherit that spell. And it’s not just the Red Tower Master’s Pantheon. All archmages’ signature spells are so incredibly difficult that you can’t imitate them unless you’re at the Eighth Circle—no, not even if you reach it.”

The Red Tower specialized in summoning magic. Its master, Lovellian, was the greatest living summoner. His signature spell, Pantheon, was a temple of gods housing summoned beings, each of which was a calamity in its own right.

“Generic’s signature is Yggdrasil. It’s easiest to think of it as a spell that turns his body into a giant tree. No, perhaps a flower would be more accurate. Doesn’t suit him, does it?”

“No.”

“But it’s not a spell to laugh at. Generic is extremely difficult to deal with while Yggdrasil is active. High-speed and simultaneous casting go without saying... What makes it especially troublesome is that all the land he takes root in falls under his control.”

Melkith grinned and pointed out the window.

“At a rough estimate, half of Pentagon would fall under his control. Ridiculous, isn’t it? That’s what an Eighth Circle archmage is. And that archmage, Generic Osman, is the man you’re about to duel.”

“But he can’t use that precious signature of his in our duel, can he?”

“Right. Yggdrasil is Generic’s original Eighth Circle spell. But that doesn’t restrict its lower-level versions, does it?”

Melkith deliberately wiped the smile from her face and stared at Eugene.

“Generic created Yggdrasil from several original spells. The completed Yggdrasil is Eighth Circle. The spell immediately preceding it is Divine Tree, at the Sixth Circle. He’ll probably use it from the start.”

“How underhanded. Is that why he set the limit at the Sixth Circle?”

“Probably. He wants to make a modest concession while using his superior standing as a mage to crush you.”

“What kind of spell is Divine Tree?”

“A scaled-down Yggdrasil. He won’t be able to unleash a barrage of high-level spells, but the ground of the dueling arena will come under his control.”

“Well, I can just fly.”

“... You’re joking, right? You’re going to fly against a higher-level mage? The instant you take off, he’ll Dispel you and send you crashing into the ground.”

“We won’t know until I try. Why do you keep trying to scare me instead of encouraging me?”

“I’m telling you to give up, even now.”

Melkith leaned forward to look at Eugene up close.

“Kid. I like your spirit. That bastard of a Green Tower Master was obnoxious, so it’s fine to lose your temper with him. But what do you gain by actually dueling him? The honor of accepting a challenge from a better mage without being afraid? Is that honor worth as much as Akasha?”

Mer bowed her head deeply without saying a word. No matter how she thought about it, she felt it was her fault that this duel had come about.

“Even if you back out now, not many people will criticize you. You’re still young. If Generic raises hell about it? I’ll stop him. What, do you think you’d be imposing on me? That bastard won’t seriously try to fight me anyway. And neither will I.”

Melkith chuckled and pointed behind her. Generic was riding in the flying carriage up ahead.

“If I stand there arguing with that bastard, the Red Tower Master will come charging over from Abram with murder in his eyes. The other tower masters will come, too. Once that happens, Generic won’t be able to keep insisting...”

“I didn’t accept the duel out of youthful hotheadedness.”

Eugene spoke.

“He says he can’t accept it, so I want to make him accept it. And I want to make him apologize to Mer.”

“... Sir Eugene, I’m fi—”

“I’m not fine. So be quiet. Mer, you know me. I’ve got a shitty temper. I’m stubborn, too. Yes, I’m trash who won’t listen to a fucking word anyone says. I was like that before, and I’m still like that now.”

Eugene grinned and ruffled Mer’s hair.

“Honor or Akasha? If I had to choose one, Akasha is worth more. That doesn’t mean honor is worthless, but I don’t particularly like going on about it. Especially my own.”

“... Then why did you accept the duel?”

“Because I won’t let him take it.”

Eugene’s lips twisted into a smile.

“Spells through the Sixth Circle. ‘Spells only.’ Right? I can do all sorts of things that aren’t magic. If I summon the Wind Spirit King right now, can you assign a circle to his standing as a being? No. Spirits are spirits, and circles are circles. How could you assign one?”

“... Hmm.”

“And I have plenty of other things besides that. If I thought I’d lose, I wouldn’t have accepted a duel under those conditions.”

He understood why Melkith was saying those things. Eugene was impressive, but Generic Osman, the Green Tower Master, was plenty impressive himself. In a contest of magic, Eugene could never defeat Generic, not even if he died and came back to life. Honestly, he wasn’t confident he could win a magical contest even if Generic used only Fifth Circle spells rather than Sixth Circle ones.

But this was not a magical contest. It was a duel. Generic had even told Eugene he could use every ability he possessed.

Martial talent acknowledged by the Lionheart main family. Even so, he was only twenty. Experience was constrained by age, especially when it came to fighting.

What had Generic seen of Eugene?

During his three years in Aroth, Eugene had shut himself away in Akron. His massacre of the assassins and sandcasters in Nahama was unknown. So was his fight with Barang in Samar, and he had received the Zoran tribe’s help in escaping with the elves.

Generic did not know Eugene.

He did not know that Eugene was Hamel the Stupid, companion to Vermouth the Great three hundred years ago. Magic was not the core of Eugene’s current abilities. He had been a warrior in his past life, and he still was. Magic was only one of his tools. Even if Generic was the superior mage,

the Sixth Circle restriction was ignorant and arrogant.

“A duel.”

Generic’s voice was buoyant with excitement as he stepped out of the flying carriage. He quickly issued orders to the Green Tower’s mages who had come to greet him.

“A duel is more entertaining with a large audience. Inform the tourists in Merdein Square. Tell them we’re opening the Green Tower’s plaza.”

Generic had designated the plaza behind the Green Tower as the dueling arena. That land was the Green Tower’s private property. It was also close to Merdein Square, one of Aroth’s famous tourist attractions.

'Once the spectators gather, even the other tower masters will have difficulty calling off the duel.'

A duel—and between Eugene Lionheart, whose fame was soaring, and Generic Osman, the Green Tower Master, at that. Spectators would flock to watch, feeling as though they had won the lottery. If the duel was canceled under those circumstances, the audience would be outraged and take Generic’s side without him having to do a thing.

By the time Eugene’s carriage arrived and descended, the edges of the spacious plaza were packed with spectators.

“Nasty bastard.”

Melkith grumbled, glaring out the window. She had anticipated this from the moment he chose the Green Tower’s plaza as the venue. That was why Eugene should have given up quickly...

'... It’s not too late yet. They’re unhappy? So fucking what?'

Public anger could easily be subdued by displaying even greater fear and power. Of course, such heavy-handed methods would bring criticism later, but Melkith was not the sort to care about that.

“Well, well. Quite a crowd has gathered in just a few minutes.”

“Feeling pressured?”

Generic asked with a smile. It looked courteous, but his intentions were so transparent that it was revolting. Eugene snickered and shook his head.

“Not at all. I’m the sort who gets more excited the more people are watching.”

What an insolent brat. Generic kept the smile on his lips, but his eyes filled with icy coldness.

“... That ‘familiar.’”

He glared at Mer, standing beside Eugene. He remembered the filthy napkin thrown at his chest. He had been so dumbfounded and taken aback that he failed to stop it—a mistake. What followed had been equally outrageous. Kneel, bow his head, and be exceedingly polite?

Apologize to a mere familiar?

“Do you intend to use it as a meat shield? I’ll grant you that it’s a rather fine strategy. You may or may not know this, but that familiar is very sturdy. No matter how often you break it, it repairs itself as long as you pour mana into it.”

“... Haha.”

Eugene let out a dry laugh and lifted his cloak.

“You told me to use all my abilities. Frankly, I don’t like the sound of that. I won’t be using Mer. I’ll be receiving her help.”

“... Help?”

“Anyway, Mer’s presence is one of the abilities I possess, so I’ll accept her help, just as you suggested, Master Generic.”

Generic considered it petty stubbornness. Pride born of youthful hotheadedness? He snorted and drew a long staff from inside his robes.

“Do as you please.”

Generic did not know what help Mer gave Eugene. Even if he had known, he would not have restricted Eugene’s ‘use’ of her. He took proper pride in being the rightful successor to Senya the Wise and an archmage who had reached the Eighth Circle.

“Let’s begin.”

Would it be better to take his time and toy with the boy? Or end it in an instant, without giving him a chance to resist? Either way, the duel would end in Generic’s victory. It was a rather enjoyable dilemma. A youngster who coveted an object beyond his station and overestimated his own talent needed suitable discipline.

'First, I’ll show him the difference in our standing.'

Generic smiled leisurely and raised his staff. He had decided which spell to open with the moment he set the limit at the Sixth Circle.

Divine Tree.

An immense quantity of mana was guided into the staff, and the ground heaved. Earth pulled from it wound up around Generic’s legs.

A white mane streamed through the air.