Chapter 8
Who Will Bell the Cat?
In the world of mages, hierarchy was determined by one’s Circle.
Magecraft was one of the few professions in noble society where superiority and inferiority were decided by pure ability rather than status or rank.
In that sense, Thessalos Wolcher had suffered the greatest insult of his entire life today.
—Adequate.
‘What do you mean, adequate? I’m a Mage!’
Mages received different titles depending on their Circle.
Those of the First Circle were called Mana Walkers.
Those of the Second Circle were Spell Blowers.
Those of the Third Circle were Magic Walkers.
Only after reaching the Fourth Circle could one finally be called a Mage.
Even the title itself showed that this was the stage at which one was acknowledged as a true practitioner of magic.
‘And some brat who has only just become a Mana Walker called me adequate?’
What position did a First-Circle mage occupy?
They were mere small fry who had to grovel before a Third-Circle mage and show the utmost respect even to those of the Second Circle.
Yet such a person had called a Fourth-Circle mage merely adequate.
Adequate.
Adequate, adequate, adequate, adequate, adequate.
That single word had struck Thessalos directly on his most sensitive nerve.
The Circle within his dantian spun tautly.
It would not have been surprising if he unleashed a spell at any moment.
He might have lost his reason and attacked immediately, but Ferda happened to make a proposal for which Thessalos was grateful.
A mere First-Circle mage had actually challenged him to a duel.
Thessalos intended to teach him a lesson.
They had already moved to an open field for the magical duel.
The two stood apart from one another, each making his own preparations.
“There is something I am curious about. May I ask?”
Thessalos answered curtly.
“What?”
“What kind of magic do you use?”
Thessalos shot back in disbelief.
“To ask about another mage’s spells before a duel—is that not excessively rude?”
“Was that considered rude? …My apologies. It has been a long time since I last fought a duel like this.”
Those were not words a First-Circle mage had any right to utter, leaving Thessalos dumbfounded.
‘What kind of arrogant little bastard is this?!’
At that moment, Thessalos made up his mind.
He would pour everything he had into killing that brat.
Ferda, meanwhile, was hardly paying any attention to Thessalos himself.
‘Yes. This is finally beginning to bring back memories.’
It had been more than twenty years since Ferda had last fought a formal duel.
There was a reason for that.
The final duel he remembered had ended badly.
A mage whose pride had been crushed after losing to Ferda gathered a group of men and ambushed him in the middle of the night.
Ever since then, Ferda had never trusted the phrase fair duel.
Whenever he sensed that a fight was about to begin, he simply killed his opponent immediately.
As a result, he had forgotten most of the rules governing formal duels.
‘A duel between mages is like playing a card game from behind a curtain.’
Neither side could accurately judge what cards the other possessed or how many they held.
They revealed them one by one.
It was a game requiring theory, skill, and wisdom.
‘Since he has reached the Fourth Circle, he should be able to use at least eight spells in a single battle. He can also employ fourth-tier magic.’
Tiered magic consisted of spells that could only be used after reaching a specific Circle.
Since Thessalos was a Fourth-Circle mage, he could cast spells up to the fourth tier.
The amount of mana he possessed would also easily exceed Ferda’s several times over.
‘This is like striking a boulder with an egg.’
Ferda already understood that every advantage belonged to Thessalos.
Nevertheless, he never once considered the possibility that he might lose.
‘I am not foolish enough to lose to an adequate mage.’
That was what Ferda thought.
“Since the handicap between us is obvious, I will tell you one thing.”
Thessalos spoke with a sneering smile.
There was no reason to refuse information freely offered.
“What is it?”
“I, Thessalos Wolcher, will use Magic Blast here. If you are truly a mage, you should understand what that spell means.”
Rather than Ferda, it was the spectating lords who reacted with shock and began whispering among themselves.
“Magic Blast…”
It was a fourth-tier spell devoted entirely to destructive power.
Precisely because its destructive strength was so great, it was relatively easy for another Fourth-Circle mage to counter.
But that did not apply to mages of lower Circles.
A First-Circle mage like Ferda had no hope whatsoever.
That was why Thessalos had told him.
His meaning was clear.
Surrender now while you still can, you bastard.
“…Is that so?”
Ferda tilted his head before nodding in understanding.
“I see. Very well, then. I shall tell you something as well. The only spell I can currently use is Mana Shot.”
“Mana Shot?”
Ferda casually waved his hand.
“Ah, there is no need to worry about me. Unlike you people, I know quite a lot.”
“You insolent little brat…!”
The aura surrounding Thessalos surged violently.
“I will erase you from this land without leaving a trace!”
Yet his killing intent failed to reach Ferda.
‘So this man also possesses a Red Circle.’
His composure had collapsed, and he had drawn out his emotions, yet his power had grown stronger.
That could only mean one thing.
He was a mage of a similar nature to Ferda.
Thessalos, too, had trained his magic using feelings of inferiority as his foundation.
‘Something about this feels familiar.’
Ferda was certain he knew it.
It was like trying to reach a chopstick lodged deep inside a bottle.
It seemed close enough for his fingertips to touch, yet remained just beyond reach.
Something continued to itch at the edge of Ferda’s memory.
‘I will leave that for later. For now, I should focus on the spell.’
Whatever else might be true, this was still a battle between the First and Fourth Circles.
Ferda reviewed his situation.
‘An ordinary First-Circle mage can create a total of three Mana Shot spheres.’
Even that limitation existed only because inexperienced mages lacked concentration and refined senses.
‘I can produce six in total.’
Five was his practical limit if he wished to avoid the aftereffects of total mana exhaustion.
That meant he had five opportunities.
“Huuuuup!”
The increasingly violent flow of mana gathered above Thessalos’s palm.
The condensed mana swirled and formed a massive ring.
It became the Circle of a magic array.
Within it, symbolic characters were drawn according to the spell structure Thessalos had memorized.
Ferda felt the wind brush past his cheek.
It was thick with murderous intent.
‘That output… He truly intends to kill me.’
But it did not matter.
Killing intent was meaningless if it never reached its target.
Just as Thessalos had declared that he would finish everything with a single blow, Ferda also intended to end the duel in one attack.
Ferda formed his mana spheres even faster than his opponent.
One above each finger.
A total of five spheres rested over his hand.
The outcome had already been decided.
“It is over.”
Ferda spoke.
“I have won.”
His fingers swept forward.
Five arcs flew toward Thessalos.
“What…?!”
Thessalos stared in shock.
Before he could even finish speaking, Ferda’s attack had already reached him.
Bang!
Bang, bang, bang!
Thud!
Four explosions and one dull impact rang out from Thessalos’s position.
Soil erupted from the field, and a thick cloud of dust spread through the air.
A moment later, everyone present could see the result.
“Urgh…”
Thessalos, who had been in the middle of constructing his magic array, sat on the ground and groaned.
The right hand he clutched had swollen bright red.
Trembling, Thessalos looked toward Ferda and spoke in a low voice.
“I have lost.”
The insolent First-Circle novice, Ferda, had won.
Thessalos found himself confronted with a truly astonishing situation.
He replayed the moments he had failed to understand during the battle.
‘The Mana Shot aimed at my face.’
The sphere formed above Ferda’s middle finger had flown directly toward Thessalos’s eye.
Anyone would die if their head were pierced.
Normally, however, that alone would not be enough to panic a mage.
Even a Red Circle mage’s spell would collapse if their concentration was broken.
But an attack aimed at the eye was different.
No human could help but flinch in such a situation.
That was why Thessalos had deployed a defensive spell while continuing his incantation.
He was a Fourth-Circle mage capable of defending and attacking simultaneously.
The three projectiles he had assumed were aimed at his torso should have been stopped by his defensive magic.
‘But his target wasn’t my body. It was the magic array.’
The projectiles had exploded directly in front of the magic array, destroying the structure that had maintained its form.
‘He destroyed the magic array…’
That was where Thessalos felt genuine awe.
Unless a magic array was constructed perfectly, it inevitably contained blind spots in its mana structure.
An explosion precisely striking one of those weaknesses could reduce the spell’s effectiveness.
But merely weakening a magic array and completely destroying it were two entirely different things.
The man before him had employed a technique that normally required at least a Fifth-Circle mage even to perceive, much less perform.
He had destroyed the magic array.
‘Then, to finish it, he fired a low-output Mana Shot into the back of my right hand.’
The reduced output meant that Ferda had not intended to kill him.
At the same time, it carried another message.
Had I wished it, someone like you would already be dead.
Everything pointed to Ferda’s complete victory.
Even Thessalos, whose head had been clouded by rage, had no choice but to admit his defeat.
The result was clear enough that even those who knew nothing about magic could understand it.
‘How could a First-Circle mage defeat someone of the Fourth Circle?’
‘Did he use some kind of trick? Perhaps the dragon interfered because she could not allow her future consort to die…’
The lords discreetly turned their heads, wondering whether a dragon had intervened.
Noticing their gazes, Luri glared at them with her silver draconic eyes.
“Would you kindly look away before I tear those eyes from their sockets?”
“Eek!”
“A-Ahem!”
Luri made no attempt to conceal her disgust.
Unlike with Ferda, she had no reason to observe courtesy toward them.
“Do you accept the result?”
“…I do.”
Thessalos gave a hollow laugh.
“To think… I would encounter an expert of this caliber here. The world truly is vast.”
He bowed respectfully, openly acknowledging Ferda’s skill.
“Your abilities are also exceptional compared to those of most Fourth-Circle mages. I consider it fortunate that the front possesses someone of your caliber.”
“Ha… ha…”
At those words, Ferda’s body twitched.
“…Did you say you had been demoted and transferred here?”
“That is correct.”
“Because of political circumstances?”
“Yes.”
Words swirled through Ferda’s mind.
A Red Circle mage.
A demotion caused by political conflict.
An inferiority complex.
Mana with a familiar quality.
Vengeance.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Thessalos Wolcher.”
Only then did Ferda understand.
“Thessalos Wolcher… Yes. I finally remember.”
A question mark practically appeared above Thessalos’s head.
He searched his memory, wondering whether they had ever met, but he could recall no connection between himself and House Rosnova.
Ferda nodded.
“I know you. You are my benefactor.”
“Your benefactor…? When have we ever met?”
“Not in the past. This concerns the distant future.”
“The distant future? What in the world are you—”
Bang—!
He never finished speaking.
A large hole suddenly appeared in Thessalos’s head.
Ferda’s index finger was pointed directly at it.
A Mana Shot had pierced straight through Thessalos’s forehead.
“That is precisely why I cannot allow you to live.”
Everyone who had witnessed Ferda’s actions stared in horror.
Ferda had killed a noble.
No one was permitted to deliberately murder a noble, and even the fiancé of Dread Queen Valdrova could not be forgiven for such an act.
How could he have committed something so atrocious?
It was an act that deserved condemnation and outrage.
Yet Ferda had more than enough justification.
‘Should this… be considered self-defense?’
The lords knew what Thessalos had attempted.
Driven by personal emotion, he had cast a fourth-tier spell powerful enough to kill the Dread Queen’s future consort.
The only flaw in Ferda’s justification was that he had executed Thessalos after the duel rather than during it.
Still, none of them spoke.
Their thoughts were identical.
Which one of us mice would dare tie a bell around that cat’s neck?
After killing Thessalos, Ferda turned around.
Blood from the hole in Thessalos’s forehead had splattered clearly across Ferda’s face.
The blood, combined with his utterly emotionless expression, sent chills through every lord present.
Ferda himself was completely unaware of it.
He was in no condition to pay attention to such things.
‘I feel dizzy.’
He had exhausted every last trace of mana within his body.
The difference between retaining one percent and reaching absolute zero was immense.
He had poured everything into the attack to leave Thessalos no possible chance of survival, and the backlash brought a splitting headache and severe vertigo.
It was difficult enough merely to remain conscious.
Controlling his expression was even harder.
As a result, his face looked unmistakably irritated.
“Why are all of you staring at me?”
“Uh… W-Well…”
Their eyes drifted toward Thessalos’s corpse.
Only then did Ferda understand.
“Ah, is this because of Thessalos? Pay it no mind. He was a man who had committed deeds worthy of death.”
Ferda could barely keep his balance, swaying as though intoxicated.
The muscles of his face spasmed and twitched.
“Had this man remained alive, he would have done something that would make the Dread Queen grieve.”
“D-Dread Queen Valdrova, you mean?”
“Yes. The Dread Queen is a merciful person.”
At that moment, another wave of pain surged through his head.
It was so intense that his previously expressionless face twisted savagely.
It looked as though he were expressing profound disgust.
“You see, I despise those who make her sorrowful.”
“A member of House Wolcher… would have done such a thing?”
“No. He had not done it yet. I killed him because there was no doubt that he eventually would.”
The lords grew even more confused after hearing his answer.
‘What kind of nonsense is that?’
‘He killed him because he was certain he would do it someday?’
‘The man becoming the Dread Queen’s consort is this completely insane?!’
Cold sweat ran down their backs as they faced a man whose next action was impossible to predict.
Ferda sensed their fear.
Worried that they might misunderstand him, he emphasized his intentions once more.
“Do not concern yourselves. I truly do not care in the slightest what any of you choose to do.”
Seriously.
Which one of them was going to put a bell around that mad cat’s neck?