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Noble Lady Reformation Guide Chapter 32: Star 3 (2)

Chapter 32: Star 3 (2)

Surrounded⁠‍ by a group‌‌ of guards, the⁠​⁠ grand carriage of‌ Count Belmiard of‍​ the Borderlands set⁠ off.

Even⁠⁠‍ from a distance,⁠‌ the carriage radiated⁠ an aura of​⁠​ nobility, though for‌‌⁠ the Count, the‍‌ escort was modest⁠‌‌ in size.

The‌‍ guards at Ebelstain’s‌‌ gate lowered their‍‌‌ heads and swallowed‍‍‌ hard upon seeing‍ the Belmiard family‍‍ crest engraved on​‍ the carriage, letting‍⁠ it pass without‍ even checking the‍‌⁠ servants’ identification papers.‌ The Count’s personal‌‌ presence made any‍​‍ verification unnecessary.

As⁠⁠ the large carriage⁠ glided through the​‌ well-kept streets of‍ the commercial district,‍⁠‌ no one in⁠⁠‍ the city dared⁠​ get in its‍‌ way. Though many‌⁠‌ eyes turned toward​⁠ it, given the‌ Count’s status, the‍ journey was surprisingly⁠​ quiet.

‘Looks⁠‌‍ like Beltus or‌‌ Duplain haven’t arrived‍⁠ yet.’

Seated‌⁠ in the carriage‍‌ with his chin‍​ resting on his​​⁠ hand, Count Belmiard​‍ of Belmiard pondered‍ silently, watching the​‌ streets.

There‍ were many reasons‌ why someone as‌ important as the​‌ Count would travel⁠​​ to Ebelstain. Officially,⁠ it was for​​ the upcoming customs​ agreement, but in​​‍ truth, it was‍ to meet Archmage​ Drest WolfTail.

In‌ addition, after arriving⁠ in Ebelstain, he‍‍‌ wanted to check‌ on his beloved‍ daughter, Ellen.

Although​‍‍ custom dictated announcing‍ a visit via⁠ letter, Count Belmiard​ chose not to.‌‌ He wanted to⁠‌‌ surprise his dear⁠⁠‌ daughter and see‌‍ for himself how​​ she was faring‌ in Ebelstain’s perilous⁠​ social environment.

How‍‌⁠ was she surviving​ in this cold‍⁠‌ society? Filled with‌ concern, upon visiting​‌ Ellen’s noble residence,‌ he found her‍​‍ utterly disheartened and⁠ emotionally exhausted.

“Ah,​​ Father.”

Ellen,⁠‌‌ pale and sipping⁠‍​ tea in the​ garden, looked up‍ with wide, startled​​ eyes.

Her⁠⁠‍ surprise matched that⁠​​ of Count Belmiard.‌

***‌‌

“Ellen.⁠‍ If social life​‌ is too exhausting,​⁠ you can return‍‍ to the palace.‍​‍ Expanding connections through⁠‌​ status is fine,⁠ but don’t sacrifice‌​ your own heart,”‍⁠​ he said.

Count​‍​ Belmiard, always stern‍​⁠ and arrogant with​ others, was exceptionally⁠​ kind when it‍⁠⁠ came to Ellen.‍

He‍ could sense her⁠ condition just by​‍​ looking at her​‍ skin. Her paleness⁠ and lack of‌⁠ brightness in her⁠ eyes clearly indicated‌ recent pain.

How⁠‍ could he, as‍⁠ a father, stand‍ by idly? Ellen‌‍​ was the jewel‍‌‌ of House Belmiard,‍​ the Count’s most⁠‌‍ precious treasure.

Even‍‌ if a noblewoman’s‍‍​ social standing was⁠‌​ as important as​​‌ life itself, he⁠​‍ saw no reason​⁠​ for her to‍ rely on Ebelstain​ if it meant​‌‌ breaking her spirit.⁠​

“Ah,‍ no, Father. I’ve⁠⁠ just been reproaching​​‌ myself for my‍ recent shortcomings, fearing‌‌‌ I was becoming​‌ complacent.”

“Complacent!​ Ellen! You are‌⁠ the pride of⁠ our House Belmiard!​‌ You’ve accomplished so​ much at your​‌ age, and with⁠ such wisdom… Who​ would dare say⁠‍‌ such nonsense?”

“…You⁠‌ don’t have to⁠ say so much.‌‍ And, well… I lost a magic‍⁠ duel recently, and⁠‍‍ I’ve been thinking​ about how to‌ improve my magic⁠ skills.”

“You‍ lost a magic​ duel? Ellen, you​​ have magical talent‌ that surpasses any‍​ noblewoman I’ve ever‌‌‍ seen. How could‍ that happen?”

“It​‌‍ was… against the‌​ young lady of‌ House Duplain…”

Upon‍‌​ hearing that, Count‍⁠‍ Belmiard fell silent.​ He took a deep breath, massaged‌‌ his temples, and⁠ then thought about⁠‌ how to comfort‍​​ Ellen.

If‍​‌ it was Aiselin‌⁠​ of House Duplain,‌⁠⁠ even Count Belmiard‍ recognized that name.​‌‌

He⁠‍​ should’ve guessed when‌​ Ellen mentioned her‍​‍ defeat. In Ebelstain’s​‌ social circles, few⁠‍‌ noblewomen could match‌⁠⁠ Ellen’s magical skills,​ and Aiselin was⁠‍ one of them.⁠

“Ellen.‍‍⁠ You may feel​‌‍ a bit helpless​‌​ now, but if​ you persevere, the‌ sun will shine‍⁠ on you once​‍‍ more.”

“Thank​‍ you for your⁠‍ comfort, Father. Even‍⁠ so, ever since⁠‌‍ I hired a magic instructor, my‌​ magical progress has⁠‍ been considerable. You’d‌⁠ be surprised by‍​​ my abilities.”

“A‌‍ magic instructor…? Are​​‌ you referring to⁠‌‌ Felmier? I heard‍‌ you’ve been spending‍ time at the‌‌​ Belmiard estate lately…”⁠

“No.‍‍ I brought in​​​ a mercenary from‍ the taverns for⁠​​ a while to​⁠‌ prepare for the⁠ duel with Lady‌ Aiselin. At first,​​⁠ I called him​⁠ in just to‍ practice magic, but‌‍ he knew more‌ than expected and⁠⁠ was a great‍ help.”

As⁠‍ Ellen shared the‍ update, she cast​ a cautious glance⁠‍ at Count Belmiard,⁠‍ unsure of how⁠ he would react​ to a street⁠‍ mercenary being her​⁠‌ instructor.

No‌⁠ matter how open-minded‍ and impartial Count‌‍‍ Belmiard was, a noble was still⁠⁠‌ a noble.

The​⁠⁠ idea of a mercenary of questionable‌‍ reputation clinging to‍​ his only daughter​ as a tutor‌ was surely unsettling.⁠

As‌⁠ Ellen anticipated, Count⁠ Belmiard’s eyes flickered‌ with unease.

After​⁠ pondering for a moment, he asked⁠‌‌ again.

“Then,⁠⁠ what kind of‍‍ help did you‍ receive specifically?”

“Just…⁠ I learned magical‌ theories you can’t​ teach with noble​​ decorum alone… and‍ he showed me‌ a methodology for⁠‍​ how to push‍⁠ myself if I truly wanted to‌‌ win.”

“But​⁠​ you lost to⁠ Aiselin. Anyone can⁠ teach mindset.”

His​‍‍ tone was sharp.​⁠⁠ It was rare‌ for Count Belmiard,‍ who adored his‌ daughter, to speak⁠ so directly.

Ellen‍‌ felt it. Count​ Belmiard was using​⁠ this conversation to‌​⁠ gauge and evaluate⁠ something.

Without‌​‍ thinking too hard,‍ Ellen responded honestly.⁠⁠​

“Being‌⁠‌ able to convey‌⁠ that effectively is‍‌ a skill too.⁠⁠‍ At least for⁠​ me… I feel⁠‌ like my perspective⁠ has broadened.”

“…”‌⁠⁠

Count​​⁠ Belmiard paused, rested​⁠⁠ his chin on‍‍‌ his hand, and⁠‌‌ then squinted after‍ observing Ellen’s expression.⁠‌

After​​‍ reading every letter‍⁠‍ Ellen had ever​ sent, Count Belmiard​‌ could guess what⁠‌⁠ her social life‌⁠‌ had been like.‌

Whether⁠​​ it was the​ time to learn​​​ estate management at​ the Belmiard mansion​ or to study​⁠ society in Ebelstain…‌⁠ Ellen’s eyes often​‍​ sparkled with an​ indescribable, mysterious confidence.⁠​

However,‍​‌ seeing the wider‍ world and encountering⁠​ people more skilled​⁠ than herself, that‍ confidence often faded.⁠

Negatively,‌​ it was discouragement;​‍ positively, it was‌ perspective. What one​​‍ held in moments⁠ like that determined⁠​​ the temperament they⁠ carried for life.​‌​

No‌‍ one always moves⁠‍ forward—so how does⁠​ one respond when​ their confidence is‌​⁠ shaken? Reflecting on‍⁠‍ this, Duke Belmiard‍‍ found himself taking‍‍ back his earlier‌⁠ words.

“Perhaps,‌ Ellen, it would‍‌ be better if‍‌‍ you didn’t return​‌ to House Belmiard.”‍‍‌

“Really?‌‍ Actually… I was⁠ thinking of staying⁠⁠ in Ebelstain.”

“Keep‌​ learning more about​ society. Lady Aiselin⁠‌‌ of House Duplain​‍​ certainly isn’t an​​ easy opponent, but⁠​‌ I’m sure our⁠​‍ daughter will triumph⁠ one day.”

Pulling‍ everything up and‌ returning to House‍ Belmiard would mean‌⁠‍ ending all of⁠‌‌ Ellen’s journeys in‌‍⁠ Ebelstain as a failure.

He‌ couldn’t allow that.‍ Though he was⁠‍ a bit worried,⁠​ there comes a time when one‌ must let their⁠ child go into‍‌ the world. An‍​ arm that only‌ bends inward cannot⁠​⁠ raise a great‍‌​ person.

It⁠‍ was a father’s⁠‍⁠ psychology—these instincts that⁠​ made one want‌‍‍ to help as​‌ much as possible​​​ in areas where⁠⁠‌ they could.

“If⁠‍ that mercenary is⁠​⁠ as good at​⁠​ teaching magic as‌‍ you say, perhaps‍‍​ it would be‍ better to hire‍‍ him exclusively for⁠‌‌ House Belmiard.”

“I‌⁠ heard he’s affiliated⁠⁠ with the Beldern‍​‍ Mercenary Group… but​⁠ high-level members might‌ oppose it.”

“Is​ that what matters?‍ What matters is‌ whether he helps​‌ my daughter’s magical‌​​ development or not.”​‍‌

Count⁠ Belmiard patted Ellen’s​⁠ shoulder and laughed⁠ heartily.

“Trust​​⁠ this father. After​​ all, he’s a commoner, and if‌‍​ we grease his⁠⁠ palms with enough​ gold, he’ll come‌ around. First, I need to summon⁠ a messenger.”

***‍

Bang!‍⁠‍ Bang!

“Ahhh!‌ Dereck! I-I’m going‌‌ to take the‍ hit too…!”

A gust of wind⁠‌​ swept the area,‌ and a bloody‌​ wind howled through‍ the damp, moldy​⁠‌ underground labyrinth.

Outside‌⁠‌ Ebelstain. It was‍​ the lowest level​‍ of the labyrinth,​‍‍ but a labyrinth​ was still a labyrinth. Dereck’s eyes‍ suddenly widened as‌​ he methodically slaughtered⁠‍ the demons one​‌‌ by one.

This‌ was the spell⁠​⁠ he had perfected⁠‍ by repeatedly killing‌ demons. But today,‌⁠ the sensation of⁠ the magical power‍‌ itself felt off.‍

The‌‍‍ 2-star spell Fireball,⁠⁠‌ which he typically⁠ used to sweep‌​ away numerous enemies‍‌​ at once, seemed‌ to have increased​​‌ in power.

It‌‍​ was a spell‍‍ he had used‌⁠‍ hundreds of times,​⁠ so the unfamiliar​​ sensation was unwelcome.⁠⁠‌

However,‌‌⁠ an increase in‍ attack power meant​​‌ greater adaptability to‍⁠ magical force.

It‍ was a positive‌‍‌ change, not a negative one. Was⁠‌ there meaning in⁠‌ the efforts he​​‌ had mastered over⁠ years of repetition?‍

In​‍ the bloodstained labyrinth,⁠ Dereck extended his‍‍⁠ hands and silently⁠‍‍ observed them.

“Dereck?​⁠⁠ What are you​‍ doing? More are​​ coming from inside!⁠ Eek! They overwhelm‌ me when they⁠​⁠ get too close!”‍

Pheline‍ quickly drew the‌ longsword tied at‍‍‍ her waist. For‌​ her, who usually⁠‍ kept her distance‌ and supported the​⁠ fight with her⁠ bow, a horde‍⁠ of surrounding goblins​‍ were not ideal‌ opponents. They weren’t‌‌ suitable foes for‌​ someone who preferred⁠ ranged combat.

Dereck‍​‌ opened and closed‌ his hands, his‍ eyes wide. Just⁠‌‌ now, the sensation‍ of magical power‌⁠‌ being drawn from​‍⁠ his body felt‍​​ much stronger than⁠ usual.

Then,‌⁠​ closing his eyes,⁠ he savored the​⁠ sensation in his⁠ mind.

The‍ shadow of the⁠​ 3-star combat spell‌ Wall of Fire,⁠‌‍ which he had⁠‍ studied and practiced‍‍ repeatedly from the‍​‌ spellbook given by​ the Duplain family,‍​ took shape in‌ his mind.

It‌‍​ wasn’t just a simple ball that‌​ exploded to attack⁠ enemies but a precise wall that‌ pressured many enemies‍⁠​ at once and​‌‌ then formed a favorable battlefield.

It‍​ was a spell‌⁠‌ requiring much more⁠‌​ precise and refined⁠​​ use of magical‌ power—so much so⁠‌⁠ that one couldn’t‌ even attempt it⁠‌ without sufficient mastery,⁠​ and even with⁠ extreme training of⁠ magical senses, it⁠ was a rushed⁠ effort at his‍‌‍ current level.

However,​‌‌ from within, an‍‌‍ inexplicable confidence flowed.‍​ As if the⁠ history of his⁠⁠‍ relentless efforts whispered‌ to him. And​ now?

Now​ that his magical⁠​ senses were burning‌​ intensely, could it⁠ be possible?

Amid‍‍‍ that vague confidence,‍‍⁠ Dereck’s eyes, filled‌​‍ with magical energy,‍‍ flashed momentarily.

– Bang!

But‍​ what followed was‌ merely a series⁠ of simple explosions.‍

It‍ wouldn’t have been‍​⁠ an issue, but⁠ in an instant,⁠⁠​ more than half‍⁠‍ of Dereck’s stored​ magic evaporated into​‌ the air.

– Screeches! Screeches!

– Clang!

Panting,‌‍‍ Dereck clenched his‍‌‌ teeth and grabbed​‌ his sword.

On‌‌ the battlefield, exhaustion⁠ meant death. Faced‌​​ with the demons’​ assault, Dereck wiped‍‌⁠ the cold sweat‍⁠ from his forehead‌⁠‌ and gripped the‍ hilt of his​‍‌ sword tightly.

His‌​ vision blurred, but⁠ he used sheer‌‌ will to remain⁠ conscious.

***⁠‌⁠

“You​ almost died? You,⁠​ Dereck? In a low-level labyrinth like‌ that?”

While‌⁠ Pheline fussed beside‍ him, Captain Jayden‌⁠ looked skeptical.

Certainly,‌‍‌ Dereck had his​⁠ face down on‍ the bar table,‍ completely exhausted.

Jayden,⁠​‍ who brought him‍‌ a drink to‌​ help him recover,​⁠ tilted his head​​‍ and checked Dereck’s⁠ condition. It seemed​⁠‍ like Dereck was‌⁠ overplaying the near-death‌‍‌ experience.

Dereck,​ known for his‌ meticulous preparation even​⁠ for the smallest⁠‌‌ tasks, tended to​ make conservative judgments⁠​ if the slightest​⁠ obstacle or unexpected​ event occurred.

He‌​​ seemed annoyed for⁠ having struggled more‍​‌ than expected with⁠ a task he‌ considered as easy​ as eating cold‍ porridge.

“Ugh…​ My magic almost⁠⁠‍ ran out halfway‍​⁠ through. So I postponed collecting the‍‍⁠ requested items until⁠ tomorrow and focused⁠‍‍ on melee combat‍​ without magic.”

“Shouldn’t​‍‍ you be able​‍‍ to handle those‌‌‍ creatures in close⁠ combat?”

“Well,​‌ yes… but I was tired, and⁠ if I’d been⁠ careless, who knows‌ what could have⁠​ happened. Pheline also​​‌ had a rough⁠‍ time.”

Knowing‌ that Dereck rarely​‍ let his guard‌‌‍ down, Jayden could‌ only tilt his‌ head in confusion.‍​⁠

It‌‌ was odd that‌⁠​ Dereck, who had‍​‍ become mature in‍ his use of​‍​ magic, would fail​ to manage it.​‍‌

“What​ happened?”

“Halfway​​⁠ through… I felt​ a strange discord⁠‍ in my magical​‍ use and instinctively⁠‌ pushed myself.”

Saying​‍​ this, Dereck extended​ his palm and​ stared at it​⁠​ closely.

It⁠ felt like he‌⁠ had broken through​ a barrier, leaving‍​ a thrilling yet‍ confusing sensation.

“…”⁠

The​ fact that such⁠ a trivial task​ had become chaotic⁠⁠ deeply wounded his‍‌‍ pride as a mercenary.

However,‍‌‌ beyond that, the⁠​ thought that he⁠ might have stepped⁠‍ closer to a new magical realm⁠​ flooded him.

So⁠⁠ much magic had‍ evaporated in a single spell. It‍⁠ was like when‍ Lady Aiselin, who‌‌‌ had just learned‌ the 2-star spell,‍ quickly ran out​​ of energy after​ casting a Fireball.‍‌​

Using‌‍ high-level spells before​‍‍ being accustomed to‍​ them could cause‌‍‍ a drastic drop⁠‍ in magical efficiency.⁠ It was a phenomenon that mages‌⁠ often experienced before‌‌ leveling up.

Although‌​ the spell’s manifestation‌​ had failed, Dereck⁠ couldn’t help but‍‍ wonder if he‍⁠ was nearing the​​ point of using​‌​ 3-star magic.

With‍​ that in mind,‌‌‍ a strange thunder‍⁠ began to rumble‍⁠ in Dereck’s chest.⁠⁠

Now​ seventeen years old,​‍‌ with about a year left until​⁠⁠ adulthood—was there any⁠ mage who had​⁠ reached the threshold⁠ of 3-star magic‌‌⁠ at a time​ like this?

Even‌ if you searched⁠​‌ the entire continent,‌‌⁠ there might be‍‌‍ a few, but‌‌‍ among commoners, there‌ would be none.‌

His⁠​ talent was more​⁠ than sufficient, and⁠​ his effort was⁠‌ tireless. Not a single day passed⁠ without magical training.‍‍ It wasn’t strange‍​‍ for results to‍‌​ begin showing now.‌

However,‍ he felt that‌⁠⁠ something was still‌ missing.

Having‌​ climbed so far​‍ as a mage,⁠‍ he felt just‌⁠‍ one step away‌‍ from mastering 3-star‍​ magic.

Though‍‍ there was a frustrating uncertainty about‍‌ what exactly was‌⁠⁠ lacking, he also​‍ felt genuine excitement‌‌⁠ that his efforts​ were finally bearing‍ fruit. A mage’s⁠‍ ambition was unlike​ that of a commoner.

– Creak

That‌​‍ was when Dereck‌⁠‌ silently observed the​‍‌ palm of his⁠ hand.

Late​ at night, when⁠‌​ the tavern was⁠​ quiet.

Someone‌⁠‍ entered the tavern,‌ where only Dereck‌ and Pheline remained.​‍

“Welcome.‍​ Sadly, we’re closing‍ soon. But it’s‍‍‌ fine if you’d‍​‍ like one last‌​ drink.”

“No‌‌​ problem. Give me​ your most popular‍​‌ drink—preferably liquor.”

“Ha,‍ our last customer⁠‍‌ of the day⁠‍ seems to know​​​ their spirits.”

Closer⁠‍ to dawn than‌‌ dusk.

Late⁠​ at night, when‍‌ the streets were⁠‌ still, one or‍‌‌ two patrons would‌‍ occasionally drop in‌‌ to quench their​ thirst.

The​‌ cloaked customer who​ entered had an‍​ unclear face, but‌ his voice sounded​‍‌ unmistakably old.

Though‌‍‍ many seats were‌​⁠ empty, he deliberately‍⁠ chose to sit‌ beside the bar​⁠‌ table where Dereck‌ was seated.

As​‌‌ Pheline recounted the​⁠​ day’s heroics over⁠‌ mead, Dereck, quietly​⁠⁠ studying his hand,‌​ glanced sideways at​ the newcomer.

The‍ man was weak.​‍ The arms visible​⁠⁠ beneath his cloak​‌‍ were not only⁠​ thin but frail.‌‍ It was a wonder he could‌ even hold himself‌⁠​ upright.

The‍​ wrinkles on his‌‌‍ hands alone suggested‍‍ he had lived⁠​‌ at least half​‌ a century. People‍‌ lived their lives​‍‌ in various ways,​‌ so it wasn’t‍‌ unusual for an‍​⁠ elderly man like⁠⁠ him to show⁠ up at a tavern this late‌‌​ for a drink.⁠⁠

Dereck,‍​ turning his attention‍​‌ away, closed his‍‍​ eyes again to‌‌‌ sense the remaining​ magical energy in⁠ his body.

“There’s‌⁠​ no need for​‌ anxiety or force​ when blocked. The​‌‌ essence of magic⁠ in the Savage‌ Academy lies in⁠ following the natural‍​ flow.”

The‌‌‍ man spoke with‍‌​ sincerity, unprompted. Dereck⁠‌ looked at him‍⁠ again, and Pheline⁠ turned with a confused look. Yet‍​ the man merely​​ lowered his head​ and wrapped himself‌ tighter in his‌ cloak, falling silent.​‌

“Eh?”⁠

Dereck​​‌ asked. The intent‌ behind his question‍⁠ was, who are‌‍ you and why‌⁠ are you saying‌‍ this?

But​ the old man‌ didn’t answer, instead‍‌‌ silently pulling back‌ his hood.

At⁠‌⁠ that moment, a faint shiver tickled⁠⁠ Dereck’s spine. Leaving‍ Pheline baffled, he‌ had to forcibly‍‌ restart the train‍⁠ of thought that⁠​ had almost solidified.⁠

“Of​​​ course, I know⁠‌​ full well how‍‌ useless it is‍ to tell mages​⁠ to abandon ambition,”⁠ he said.

A deeply wrinkled forehead.​ Short-cropped hair. Dull,‍‌​ cloudy eyes. Tight​‌​ lips. Dry, cracked⁠‍‌ mouth. More like‌ a walking corpse‍‌ than a living‍​ person.

It‌ looked like he‍ had lived not​‌​ just half a century, but more‍‌⁠ than a full‍ century. Dereck could‍ tell his remaining‍‍ time was short.​​

– Clink

Jayden,‌‌ who brought a drink from the‌‍⁠ kitchen, placed it​‌ in front of​‍ the old man.‍​

With⁠‌ a disdainful nod,‌ the elder took​‍​ a sip and‍ said:

“Toblerone‌‍ Mountain, is it?‌​‌ Its acidity is‌‌⁠ weaker than I expected.”

“Ah,​⁠ you have a sharp palate, sir.‌​⁠ But it’s hard⁠​ to apply such​⁠‌ high standards to​‍ stock this late⁠ at night.”

“It’s⁠ very good. If‌⁠​ I were a bit younger, I’d‍‍⁠ drink myself under⁠ the table.”

The⁠⁠​ old man then‍‌‌ turned his gaze‌ directly to Dereck‍‌ and said:

“You‍​ have talent in‌‍ combat and disruption,‍​⁠ but you seem‍​‍ to lack in​‍ summoning and exploration.⁠ Your magic capacity⁠ is excellent, but‍​ its flow isn’t‌‌​ fully open. Efficiency‍‌​ drops when magic​‍‌ flows to your​‍ extremities.”

“For⁠‍ your age, that’s‌ quite impressive. But​ it seems you⁠ overthink your conjuring,​​ boy.”

Pheline’s⁠⁠‍ eyes widened in‌ surprise. Dereck, too,⁠‌​ listened quietly to​‍ the old man’s⁠‌​ words.

It‌ wasn’t that no‍ one had ever‍‌‍ gauged Dereck’s level‌​ at a glance.​ The Duke of‍ Duplain had roughly‌​ estimated Dereck’s magical⁠‌ proficiency at their‌​ first meeting.

A 4-star exploration mage⁠‌‌ could generally assess⁠‌‌ someone’s level with⁠⁠‌ just a glance.‍⁠⁠ Of course, such​ mages were rare—even‍⁠ among famous noble​‌⁠ families.

However,‍ the old man’s⁠​‌ insight surpassed even​‍‌ that.

“A‌ cautious temperament is​‌‌ useful for labyrinth⁠‍ exploration, but it’s‍ different for conjuring.‍ When applying the‍⁠ free-spirited magic of‍ the Savage Academy,‌​ it’s better to‌‌⁠ be bolder.”

“…May‌‌‌ I ask your⁠⁠ name?”

“Why‍ ask what you​‍ already know?”

The⁠​ old man knew‍ Dereck had already‍⁠‌ guessed his identity.⁠

Combat,‍ transformation, disruption, summoning,‍‍ exploration. Excluding forbidden​‍ arts, these were‍‌‍ the five main‍⁠‌ schools of magic.‍

Humans‌⁠‌ had the habit‌ of categorizing everything,​⁠ no matter what.​

When⁠ the top mages⁠‌ in each category‌ debated who was‍ the best in⁠⁠​ the world, high-ranking‍ nobles endlessly discussed‌ the topic.

There​⁠​ might be well-recognized​⁠ figures, but there​ was rarely unanimous‌‌​ agreement. There was⁠⁠‍ always someone offering​ a third opinion.⁠​

But​ when it came‌‌‍ to the greatest​⁠ exploration mage, no‍​‍ one dared dispute‍‌ it.

His⁠​ unconventional background made⁠‌ it hard for​ anyone but the‌‍‌ high nobility to​⁠ recognize his true​ worth, but those⁠‍ who knew never​ argued otherwise.

“WolfTail.”⁠‍

That‍​⁠ was the name⁠ of the frail⁠‌‌ old man sipping‍‌‍ beer in front⁠ of him. He​‍ could go wherever⁠​ he wanted, and⁠⁠⁠ if he chose​‍​ not to be‍⁠​ found, he never‌‍‌ would be. Thus,‍ in noble society,‌‌ he was called‍‌​ the Wandering Spirit.⁠⁠

Indeed,‍​‍ his wise gaze‍‍‌ felt almost ghostlike.‌

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