The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower
Chapter 19: The Ugly Duckling (2)
The training room on the 40th floor.
Fran, practically dragged there, let out a sigh of resignation.
"I don't know if I can achieve in one day what I haven't been able to in years."
"It's possible. But you have to trust me completely."
"...What exactly are you planning to teach me?"
"First, stand in a natural posture and close your eyes."
A natural posture involves standing still and relaxing the entire body, letting the limbs hang loosely.
It has a slower flow of mana compared to a meditative pose, but it has its own advantages.
'Humans are naturally upright-walking creatures. To assess one's usual habits and tendencies, this posture is better than a cross-legged position.'
"Like this?"
"Good. Now try circulating your mana throughout your body."
With his eyes closed, Fran focused intensely and began to move his mana slowly.
Oscar, observing him quietly, made a move.
"Here, here, and over here...."
He pointed out several spots along his mana circuits with his fingers.
"These are areas where you experience mana loss during circulation."
Fran's eyelashes fluttered as he kept his eyes closed.
He had instantly identified habits he wasn't even aware of.
"If you have a lot of these points, your spell execution is bound to suffer."
"...If I fix these, will I reach level 4?"
"Not necessarily. This isn't directly related to your level."
With enough talent, even someone with terrible habits could become a level 4 mage.
"In fact, 99.9% of mages don't even concern themselves with these details."
"Then why...?"
"However, 0.1% of the mages in history who were called Archmages? Every single one of them paid attention to this."
There's always a reason why the best obsess over certain details.
Before diving into the main lesson, Oscar intended to address Fran's fundamental issues.
"Remember what I'm about to teach you and practice it every morning."
He began explaining the problems with each mana circuit as if revealing the answers to a math problem.
"This circuit here has a sharp turn. The mana enters too quickly and crashes against the wall, causing significant loss. Be mindful of your entry speed."
"On the other hand, this area is too slow. You need to push the mana through more forcefully and swiftly."
"This circuit has six entry points, so you need to split your mana into six streams. That way, you minimize loss and maximize speed."
Fran couldn't even imagine the value of the information he was receiving.
This was something that even most high-ranking mages would find difficult to teach.
"...Do I have to pay attention to all these details every time I cast a spell?"
"Eventually, it will become as natural as breathing."
Fran looked at Oscar like he was a monster and stuck out his tongue.
"This is why geniuses are on a different level... Anyway, I memorized everything you taught me."
Fortunately, after hearing them just once, Fran was smart enough to remember the explanations.
Oscar nodded in satisfaction.
"Alright, then let's start the actual lesson now."
Fran flinched and opened his eyes at his words.
"We haven't even started yet?"
"I told you, this has nothing to do with your level."
So far, everything had just laid the foundation for becoming an excellent mage.
Oscar, having addressed the basics, suddenly looked serious.
"Fran Sirius, I made it clear before we start. You said you would trust me completely."
"I did."
"Then show me the spell you used during your fight with the swordsman in the herb field."
"...You saw that?"
Letting out a deep sigh, Fran shook his head.
"Sorry."
"Was it a lie when you said you trusted me?"
"No, it's not that I don't trust you..."
Avoiding his gaze, Fran muttered in a barely audible voice.
"I'm scared."
"...Scared?"
Oscar's expression became curious.
There are usually two main reasons why someone would be scared of their own magic.
"Does using that spell cause serious side effects, or do you have some traumatic memory associated with it?"
"The latter."
Fran slumped his shoulders as he continued.
"I nearly died once while using that spell."
"Tell me more. That way, I can suggest a solution."
"Ugh."
Frowning deeply, Fran touched upon a memory he didn't even want to recall.
From a young age, Fran Sirius considered himself a genius.
In any physical activity or academic endeavor, he had never failed to be at the top of his peer group.
Had he not been part of the Sirius family, he might have lived content with his talents.
Smack!
"Ouch!"
After being hit on the head with a wooden sword and falling, Fran was surrounded by two boys and a girl.
Ignoring the youngest, who started crying, they began conversing among themselves.
"This is bad. The youngest has no talent for swordsmanship. I heard his rank in the recent mock exam was only 14th nationwide."
"Unbelievable. Who would have thought that someone from the Sirius family wouldn't be ranked first in the nation..."
"It's worrisome. He isn't even that smart, and now it seems like he lacks physical talent too."
Looking back, it was simply that the people he was compared to were exceptional.
His two older brothers and sister were already renowned as geniuses within the Empire.
"Isn't the third son of the Sirius family known as 'the ugly duckling'? Everyone else in that family is outstanding, but the youngest is a bit lacking. He couldn't possibly be a child they picked up from somewhere, could he?"
Even when he overheard someone insulting him, he couldn't muster the courage to confront them.
He was terrified that he might actually be a child who was picked up from somewhere.
Even in the personality test that was trending throughout the Empire, he was the only one with a different result.
"How strange. In our family, everyone except the youngest got the same result."
"They described us as highly capable but unnecessarily serious, lacking flexibility, and rigid."
"Nonsense. This test is just pseudoscience with no solid evidence, so don't be swayed by it."
"Oh, according to the test results, the youngest has a wide range of shallow interests, lacks persistence, and is easily frightened."
"Just as I thought."
"Sounds accurate."
Feeling smaller and smaller among his emotionally detached family, Fran had only one thing he could lean on: magic.
"...Alright. In that case, I'll go to the White Tower."
He planned to prove himself there.
To show that while he might be looked down upon in his family, outside, he would be recognized as a genius.
However, even in the White Tower, which was rumored to have declined, there were three people more talented than him.
'I can't continue like this.'
The anxiety and fear of becoming a nobody consumed him, leading him to make a dangerous decision.
'What if I could turn my entire body into wind, not just a part of it...'
He was fully aware of the risks.
But the fragile hope drawn by his anxious mind was filled with baseless optimism.
‘If I just succeed, it'll be a jackpot, right?’
He imagined famous newspapers coming for interviews and receiving invitations to all sorts of high society events.
After that, he'd become the leading mage of the White Tower and, naturally, gain recognition from his family.
More than anything, that sweet future felt like a cookie placed within arm's reach.
All he needed was a single crumb of courage to reach out and grab it.
“...Huh?”
But accidents always strike unexpectedly.
The moment Fran succeeded in transforming his lower body into wind, his magic spiraled out of control.
“What... what the hell? Damn it!”
Screaming, he struggled to flee the training room but to no avail.
His legs no longer existed, after all.
Even his upper body was rapidly turning into wind, scattering into the air.
“Haah... haah...”
The sensation of his soul being torn apart, shredded into countless fragments.
A fear that he, as an existence, would become wind and forever wander the world.
By the time his body was reduced to only the part above his neck, rendering even breathing difficult—
“...Fran? Fran!”
If Sasha, the Tower Master, hadn't passed by the hallway at that moment, Fran would have died that day.
No, more accurately, "death" wouldn’t be the right term—annihilation of existence would be.
After that incident, Fran could no longer use his one and only pride: his unique magic.
“Whenever I try to use it, my breath quickens, and cold sweat starts pouring.”
Fran displayed his trembling hands with a self-deprecating smile.
“I'm pretty pathetic, aren't I?”
To some, it would sound like a privileged complaint.
Born into a well-off family, with remarkable talent—just a spoiled kid's grumble.
“I know my family is full of good people, even if they're a bit stoic... But... I always feel like I'm drifting alone within the family. What am I supposed to do?”
“...I don’t think it’s pathetic. Everyone has their struggles.”
Though, to be honest, Oscar couldn’t fully empathize.
He had grown up parentless, scavenging through back alleys for food, until he was discovered by his mentor.
He seized that stroke of fortune and became a mage.
Despite the many mages who envied his genius, he overpowered them with skill and won their admiration, eventually rising to the position of Tower Master.
A prime example of triumph over adversity.
Given their vastly different upbringings, empathy was naturally difficult.
“Anyway, to sum it up, you want your family’s recognition.”
“Yeah.”
“And you want to become an outstanding mage, but the trauma from the accident is holding you back.”
“Exactly.”
The fear of being consumed by his own magic.
That was the very reason Fran couldn’t properly wield the power of the Wind Sovereign.
Oscar nodded, understanding the root cause.
‘So this was it.’
The reason he occasionally seemed to lack confidence or had an excessive need for approval.
With his curiosity satisfied, Oscar spoke up.
“But you managed to use it well when fighting that swordsman in the hills, didn’t you?”
“That wasn’t me using it. It activated on its own when my life was in danger.”
In other words, he couldn’t consciously control it.
Oscar pondered briefly before asking,
“Describe the situation during the accident in more detail. Why did you almost dissipate into wind?”
“...At some point, the magic slipped out of my control and went berserk.”
A quick glance at Fran’s hands revealed they were still trembling slightly.
Even though he was trying to act nonchalant, recalling the incident alone was terrifying for him.
‘Well, who wouldn’t fear annihilation of existence?’
Even the most fearsome generals among the demonkind had sobbed like babies in the face of it.
Fully understanding this, Oscar gently patted Fran's shoulder.
“Thanks for sharing your secret with me.”
“Well, you did say you’d believe me.”
Fran muttered as he slightly turned his head.
“...Hearing someone say they need me for the first time... feels kinda nice.”
“Hmm? What did you say?”
“Ah, nothing. Forget it.”
Looking a bit sheepish, Fran quickly changed the subject.
“So, what do we do now? I’m not confident, but I’ll do whatever you say.”
“First, you need to understand that this is actually a problem more common among mages than you think.”
“...Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Greed is always the issue.
The desire to knock on the doors of higher truths.
It’s a bomb that every mage carries in their heart.
“But the solution is surprisingly simple.”
Oscar pointed his index finger at Fran.
“In essence, your issue stems from a lack of magical control, right? Then you just need to address that.”
“...Easier said than done. Isn’t that something determined by innate talent?”
Magical control or perception is often referred to as the sixth sense.
It’s not something you understand intellectually, but something you instinctively sense.
Like hearing a sound or seeing something without having to learn it first.
“Usually, yes. But there’s a way to enhance that ability forcibly.”
Of course, it wasn’t a method just anyone could use.
Few knew of this method even in the past, and fewer still succeeded.
“...What are you doing?”
Tap, tap, tap!
Fran asked as he watched Oscar suddenly start drawing something on the training room floor.
“Me? I’m drawing a summoning circle.”
“What are you summoning? Don’t tell me... you’re not asking me to make a pact with a demon or something, right?”
Fran’s face turned pale with fear as Oscar chuckled.
“Are you nuts? Even if I called them, those demon bastards wouldn’t show up.”
They’d wet themselves and flee just from the scent of his soul.
“Then... what are you summoning?”
“A spirit.”
Tap, tap!
Completing the summoning circle, Oscar replied,
“I’m about to summon a Wind Spirit to embed within your body.”

Comments

Loading...