Chapter 47 - Damn Reincarnation

Hall of Senya

Upon opening his eyes, Eugene checked his underwear first. He was worried he might have soiled himself, just as Melkith had warned.

Fortunately, his underwear was perfectly dry. Yet that alone wasn't enough to reassure him. There was something unsettling about the way Mer was watching him from nearby.

“Did I do anything embarrassing?” Eugene asked, trying to sound casual.

“Passing out so abruptly was embarrassing in itself.”

“Besides that.”

“You're worried you might have wet yourself, aren't you?”

Mer smiled mischievously. Eugene felt his heart sink and desperately shook his head.

“There's no way I did that.”

“The truth is usually cruel.”

“Please, cut the bullshit. I told you, there's no way I did that.”

“Don't worry. You didn't wet yourself, Eugene. You did foam at the mouth, though.”

“... Just foam?”

“Your nose bled quite a bit, too. Anyway, you didn't wet yourself, all right? If you had, I wouldn't be standing this close to you...”

“... The way you say that, I take it some people have.”

“Quite a few. The current White Tower Master, Melkith El-Hayah, did... So did the Blue Tower Master, Hiridus Uzlen.”

Eugene recalled the Blue Tower Master's stern face. That sharp-tempered-looking old mage had wet himself after encountering Witch Craft? It wasn't a scene he particularly wanted to imagine...

“I didn't wet myself. That's all that matters.”

Eugene sat up as he spoke. How much time had passed? He looked around for a clock, but Mer spoke before he could find one.

“You were unconscious for about two hours.”

“I was out for a long time.”

“So, what did you think?”

Mer's eyes sparkled in anticipation of his impressions. But Eugene couldn't possibly put what he had seen and felt into coherent sentences.

“... It's difficult,” he said to begin with.

“It's baffling. Even after seeing it, I don't really understand what—no, I feel like I can grasp it vaguely. But I can't absorb it as knowledge or theory.”

“Of course.”

Mer liked his assessment. Archmages brimming with pride in their own abilities and knowledge rarely gave an honest account of their impressions.

“That's what makes Witch Craft so great, and Lady Senya, who created it, such a great mage.”

“Yeah.”

Eugene didn't deny it.

He couldn't.

Deep down, he had wondered just how amazing Senya could possibly be to deserve all the praise the mages heaped on her. He couldn't help thinking that way.

Eugene—Hamel—knew Senya all too well. Not the archmage, Senya the Wise, but the person his companion Senya Merdein had been. He knew all too well how careless, obnoxious, and foulmouthed she was, and how she grated on people's nerves, utterly intoxicated with her own brilliance.

'She really is brilliant, though.'

Eugene turned to look at Witch Craft.

Frankly, he didn't think he could understand it even if he spent his entire life struggling to teach himself.

“... The way the circles worked was fascinating.”

“Oh?”

Mer's eyes lit up at his murmur. Watching Eugene lost in thought, she grinned.

“I see. Your eye for magic is far better than the level of the spells you've learned. Your comprehension seems excellent, too.”

“What exactly was that circle?”

Eugene scrubbed away the bloodstains left beneath his nose. The most astonishing and difficult-to-understand part of Witch Craft was the essence of the magic formula it used: the circle.

Eugene knew what circles were. Three hundred years had passed since Senya established the circle magic formula. Over those centuries, Aroth's mages had analyzed, refined, and developed circles. These days, not only in Aroth but throughout most of the world, mages began their study of magic with circles.

In other words, the system had been popularized to make it easy to understand and learn. The introductory grimoires Eugene had read explained circles in clear, accessible detail. He had read well over several dozen grimoires at the Red Tower, but their explanations of circles were mostly similar.

“What did you see?” Mer asked with a mischievous smile. Apparently, she wanted to hear more of Eugene's assessment—or, more precisely, his lavish praise of Senya.

'I suppose she was like that even as a child.'

Mer had said she was based on Senya's childhood personality. The Senya Eugene knew had also reveled in other people's praise, thoroughly enamored with her own brilliance.

“... The circle... kept dividing,” Eugene said, tapping his throbbing head.

“The circles I know... stop at nine.”

The Ninth Circle.

Not a single mage in the present age had reached it. Even Aroth's tower masters, at the cutting edge of magic, were limited to the Eighth Circle. Nor had Helmuth's black mages, contracted directly to Demon Kings, overcome the barrier to the Ninth Circle.

The circle magic formula ended at the Ninth Circle. The many grimoires Eugene had read firmly drew that line, and since the formula's establishment, only Senya the Wise had reached the Ninth Circle.

“Witch Craft is the last grimoire Lady Senya created.”

Mer planted both hands on her hips and looked at Eugene.

“When Lady Senya first created the circle magic formula, she had nine circles. But she continued to devote herself to magical research and practice afterward. And so... she surpassed the limits she herself had set.”

“If it's beyond the Ninth Circle, is it the Tenth Circle?”

“Are you an idiot, Eugene?”

He had only made a suggestion based on simple arithmetic, and she called him an idiot? Eugene made a point of looking offended, but Mer's disdainful gaze remained unchanged.

“You saw Witch Craft for yourself. Surely you didn't pass out as soon as the circles reached ten?”

“I saw what came after that, too. The moment they split into ten... the circles' mana mingled, and they became a single enormous circle. Inside it, countless circles divided and mixed together...”

“That's the very core of Witch Craft.”

Mer raised a finger as though she had been waiting for him to say it.

“Eternal Hole. The ultimate pinnacle of the circle magic formula, reached by Lady Senya alone. Since Witch Craft's creation, countless mages have set their sights on recreating Eternal Hole, but not one has overcome the barrier to the Ninth Circle.”

“...”

“It uses all your mana without wasting a single speck, controlling it within an enormous circle while dividing and circulating circles inside. You could call it the ideal way for circles to operate. And it isn't complicated like conventional circles.”

“Not complicated? That?”

“Creating Eternal Hole is difficult. Using it to cast magic is very easy and simple. Didn't I tell you earlier?”

Mana operation optimized for circles.

The amplification of spell power it produced.

Efficient simplification of formulas.

Omission of incantations.

Simultaneous manifestation of spells through divided consciousness.

Inputting spells into the unconscious and storing them.

“Once you create Eternal Hole, you can do all of that as naturally as breathing. A Fireball cast through Eternal Hole is more powerful than Ninth Circle Hellfire. And unlike Hellfire, it doesn't gobble up a ridiculous amount of mana or require a complicated formula.”

“If you create Eternal Hole, can you cast Ninth Circle magic without an incantation, too?”

“Of course, but there's no need. Why use Hellfire when a Fireball alone can reproduce its power? You're better off firing a string of Fireballs. Oh, of course, if you needed even more power, Hellfire might be better. But after Lady Senya created Eternal Hole... she never once faced a situation where she needed to use Hellfire.”

She was no longer ascending a Demon King's castle, nor was she still fighting Demon Kings or high-ranking demons. The world had been peaceful since the ‘promise,’ and Senya no longer lived the violent life she had led while wandering Helmuth.

“Now you understand, don't you?” Mer said, wagging her raised finger from side to side.

“Lady Senya, assassinated by a black mage? That could never happen. Once she created Eternal Hole, she was truly invincible. She never tested it herself, but she probably could have killed a Demon King single-handedly.”

“Maybe.”

Eugene didn't deny it. Senya had been an immensely powerful mage when they wandered Helmuth together, but she had become even stronger after the war with the Demon Kings ended.

His existing understanding couldn't fully encompass Witch Craft's greatness. But he could tell that the Senya who created it was far stronger than she had been during the active years he remembered.

'Senya didn't just sit around enjoying herself.'

The others probably hadn't, either.

Vermouth. In all of Lionheart's history, he alone had reached ten stars in the White Flame Formula. Even in Helmuth, his strength had been unmatched. Eugene had no idea what had possessed him to father so many children... but the Vermouth he remembered had never been lazy about putting in effort.

[“If you tried a little harder... you could do so much better.”]

Words he had heard a very long time ago. Of everything said to him in his previous life, those words had lodged deepest in his heart. Vermouth, that son of a bitch, had been a genius, yet he had worked quite hard, too.

He simply always achieved far more than the effort he put in warranted.

'Anise and Moron must have gotten at least a little stronger, too.'

He couldn't see their achievements as he could Senya's, but Eugene was certain of it. All his companions from his previous life had been that sort of person. They had the talent to be called geniuses no matter what era they were born in, along with a clear purpose and firm convictions.

They had sworn to kill every Demon King in existence.

“That's why I understand it even less,” Eugene murmured as he rose to his feet.

'Senya Merdein. If you became that strong... the you I know would have challenged the Demon Kings again, one way or another.'

The Demon King of Incarceration and the Demon King of Destruction were incomparably stronger than the lower-ranked Demon Kings.

But even if they had been defeated and driven back, the companions Eugene knew weren't the sort to despair. They would build up their strength again until they were confident. Even without that confidence, they were the sort to throw themselves into their convictions once more before they died.

Yet they had never challenged the Demon Kings again, right up to the end.

Senya and Anise had gone into seclusion at roughly the same time.

... And they hadn't kept in touch with Lionheart before Vermouth's funeral.

'Vermouth.'

Eugene let out a long sigh and shook his head.

'What the hell did you do?'

* * *

Akron. Although the royal library had a nominal director, familiars handled most of its operations, so it had no closing time.

That meant visitors could stay as long as they wished, provided they cut down on eating and sleeping.

'If that's how it works, it'd be nice to have a separate lounge or something.'

The Red Tower's library was convenient. Both the dining hall and his bedroom were close by. Akron, however, had no such facilities. Whether it was because they disliked food smells lingering in the air or because of the dignity befitting a royal library, eating and sleeping inside Akron were strictly prohibited.

At least each floor's hall had separate research chambers for studying and testing magic. Couldn't he simply eat and sleep there? Eugene asked Mer about it, but...

“I can't eat food or drink anything, and you want to do that right in front of me? Absolutely not. If you're really hungry, go eat outside and come back.”

All he received was that scolding.

“Don't tell me it's forbidden for such a petty reason.”

“Of course not. There's a proper reason. You wouldn't know, since you aren't purely a mage, but ordinary mages... no, mages accomplished enough to be called archmages are addicted to magic.”

Mer shook her head vigorously as she answered.

“Unless we draw a firm line like this, the mages who come here will immerse themselves in magic even at the cost of their own lifespans. You know those famous stories, don't you? Mages who became liches to study magic beyond their natural lifespans. Mages who died of overwork while absorbed in research in their dungeons...”

“I think there's some exaggeration in those stories.”

“They wouldn't have made this rule if there weren't precedents, would they?”

Mer lowered her voice. She whispered, deliberately trying to create an eerie atmosphere.

“Akron's history stretches back roughly eight hundred years. Long, long ago... a certain mage obtained the entry permit to Akron he had dreamed of all his life. He loved magic dearly and was enthralled by the truths of his great and respected predecessors. And so... he indulged in magic, forgetting to eat, drink, or sleep, until at last...”

“So, does a ghost come out at night or something?”

“It might. I've never seen one, though.”

“Oh, how frightening.”

Mer pouted at Eugene's dry response.

“I'll come back tomorrow or so.”

“What are you going to do here? The grimoires in this hall are far too difficult for you.”

“If they're difficult, I'll have to learn.”

“I'm not going to teach you.”

“That's fine. There'll be someone besides you who can.”

“That's good, then, but I'll throw you out if you make too much noise.”

Mer delivered her threat. Eugene chuckled and nodded.

“I'll try to be quiet.”

Honestly, Eugene was struggling with an internal conflict. He wanted to talk more with Mer, who resembled Senya so closely, and grow closer to her. But becoming attached to her like that didn't seem right.

It wasn't right.

Nor was it good for him.

Mer was a familiar, not Senya herself. Her existence made Eugene far too conscious of his previous life. He didn't want to become more attached to her than necessary.

But his feelings refused to cooperate. Today alone, he had caught glimpses of Senya in Mer several times.

'Still, I can't just pretend she doesn't exist.'

The simplest and surest way to maintain his distance would be to stop coming to the Hall of Senya. But Eugene didn't want to go that far. Quite apart from Mer's presence, he wanted to immerse himself in Witch Craft and the other grimoires.

Before heading down to the first floor, Eugene looked around the lower floors as Mer had advised. There were familiars there as well, but they had nothing that could be called a personality or artificial intelligence. They could only answer simple questions and maintain their halls.

None were as humanlike as Mer.

'They're just as difficult.'

He browsed the grimoires under the familiars' mechanical guidance. They might not be as difficult as Witch Craft, but the other floors' grimoires were equally impossible for Eugene to understand at his current level.

“You certainly took your time coming down.”

On Akron's first floor, Melkith was still waiting instead of having gone home.

“How was it?”

Lovellian was there, too. He had been frowning until a moment ago, but the instant he saw Eugene, he greeted him with a bright smile.

“Honestly, I don't really understand any of it,” Eugene answered, shaking his head. “With the magical theory I currently know, I think it'd take me years just to properly understand a single grimoire.”

“Of course. The grimoires here contain the essence of hundreds of years of Aroth's magic.”

Melkith answered proudly, then continued while casting glances at Wynnyd hanging at Eugene's waist.

“Kid, no matter how brilliant you are, there's a limit to how much magic you can learn without a proper teacher.”

“White Tower Master.”

“Oh, I told you not to worry. I have no intention of taking the kid as my apprentice. I just... want to make a simple deal.”

“Wynnyd?”

Eugene asked despite knowing perfectly well. Melkith nodded as though she had been waiting for the question.

“If you lend me Wynnyd for just a little while, I'll explain whichever grimoires you want in terms you can understand. Isn't that a good deal?”

“It is, but...”

Eugene looked away from Melkith and turned to Lovellian.

“Master Lovellian, would you be willing to take me as your apprentice?”

Their expressions split at those words. Lovellian smiled radiantly, while Melkith's face crumpled.

“If that's what you wish, Eugene, how could I possibly refuse?”

“Weren't you busy?”

“For Eugene's sake, I can make as much time as needed.”

“And you, kid. No matter how desperate you are, you shouldn't bow your head so readily. Besides, you're a Lionheart, aren't you? Are you allowed to enter a master-apprentice relationship on your own?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“Because I can't allow it,” Melkith interjected quickly.

“You shouldn't enter a master-apprentice relationship lightly. It could cause you trouble later. What if the Red Tower Master starts throwing his weight around just because he's your teacher?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“The Master Lovellian I know isn't that sort of person.”

“You exasperating kid. You're only seventeen! Do you think you know the Red Tower Master better than I do?”

“Why do you keep spouting nonsense?” Lovellian asked, furrowing his brows.

Unable to answer, Melkith worked her lips for a moment before finally letting out a deep sigh.

“Fine, I'll be blunt. If you become the Red Tower Master's apprentice, you won't need me to explain grimoires in exchange for Wynnyd. This really hurts my pride to admit, but the Red Tower Master is better at magic than I am, you know?”

“You don't have to offer grimoire explanations in exchange.”

Eugene shrugged and smiled.

“Don't you have anything else to trade? An item would be fine, too.”

Melkith's lips parted at his audacity. She stared at Eugene for a moment, then gave a disbelieving laugh and shook her head.

“This kid knows how to bargain.”

“If you don't like it, never mind.”

“Who said I didn't like it?”

Melkith answered immediately, stroking her chin.

“Give me a moment to think.”