This was the summer of Eugene’s nineteenth year.
Although the weather outside was hot and humid, the interior of Akron felt comfortable.
Eugene’s shaggy hair had been left tied up casually. Although the interior of Akron was rife with spells used to guarantee various conveniences such as air purification and temperature control, Eugene was the only one who could be seen wearing a fur-lined cloak in this sweltering heat.
He didn’t have any particular reason for it. It was just comfortable. Contrary to its heavy appearance, the Cloak of Darkness barely weighed anything. .
Although this fact was already obvious, magic truly was convenient.
Even the small weight that Eugene did feel wasn’t enough to burden him. Since he had been going about his daily training while strapping heavy sandbags onto his body ever since he was ten years old, there was no way that the weight of this cloak would make him feel uncomfortable.
It wasn’t hot either. The cloak resonated with its wearer’s sensory systems and constantly monitored both internal and external temperatures, ensuring its wearer’s comfort in any situation. That alone was already convenient enough, but what Eugene most appreciated was definitely the spatial enchantments imbued within the cloak.
And among these, he got the most use out of the subspace.
While spinning a pen around on his finger, Eugene stared down at his desk. He was looking at a thesis he had started writing a few hours ago. By the time he came to his senses, he had several pages filled with writing. Eugene roughly scooped them all up and threw them inside his cloak, then took out some more blank sheets of paper.
“Isn’t it almost time for you to get something to eat?”
This question came from Mer, who was sitting across from him. Her legs were swinging idly as she sat on a chair too tall for her, and both her hands were cupped under her chin.
Eugene gave an excuse, “I ate a lot before I came here.”
But Mer saw through it, “What are you saying all of a sudden? You always eat a lot. So aren’t you still hungry now?” .𝒎
“I am a bit hungry,” Eugene admitted. “But if I go now, I’ll lose my focus, so I can’t eat just yet.”
‘Liar,’ Mer thought as she gave a small hmph and puffed up her cheeks. For him to say that he would lose his focus was ridiculous. She had been watching over Eugene for two years now, and Mer had never once seen Eugene lose his focus.
“Aren’t you being too hasty?” Mer asked him.
“I really don’t think so,” Eugene responded.
“Now that the time has come to write your thesis, that’s even more reason not to be hasty. You should write it calmly and slowly so that you don’t make any small mistakes…,” Mer tried to think of any other arguments. “Um…. So in any case, that’s why it’s better to write carefully, got it?”
“I’m not rushing it, and I am writing calmly. Though I’m not sure about writing slowly. I’ve been revising my thesis constantly, and at least in my eyes, I’ve yet to see any mistakes. This must mean that I am writing carefully,” Eugene replied as he continued to spin his pen in circles.
Mer wasn’t really satisfied with this answer, and after a short pause, she continued speaking. “…I’m just talking about normal wizards, but doesn’t it usually take them several decades just to complete a thesis that summarizes their magic?”
“The amount of time I’ve spent learning magic is a lot less than a few decades.”
“That’s even more reason to think that you are being overly arrogant by writing your thesis so early! Instead of doing something so rash, you should just immerse yourself in magic for the next ten years….” Mer trailed off, still protesting.
“It looks like our little Mer is feeling really shy,” Eugene grinned as he stared at Mer.
At this, Mer’s eyebrows furrowed as if disgusted, and she raised both of her clenched fists towards Eugene.
“Haven’t I told you enough times to stop crossing the line?” Mer demanded.
Eugene denied the accusation, “But I don’t think that I crossed any line.”
“I’m talking about what you said: ‘our little Mer!’ I’ve told you not to call me that. I am two hundred years older than you, Sir Eugene.”
“Then it looks like our little granny Mer is pretty shy.”
“Wanna die?”
Mer’s shoulders seemed to be heaving with anger. But even so, Eugene didn’t feel any killing intent flowing his way. Since she had been teased like this for two years now, it looked like Mer had gotten used to it. Besides, they both knew Mer wasn’t serious while saying that and didn’t really hate it when Eugene treated her like that.
It was strange, novel, and nostalgic. Among all the wizards who had been granted entry into Akron over these hundreds of years, not a single one of them had treated Mer like a young child. Although some fools occasionally wanted to dissect Mer and Witch Craft under the foolish pretext of doing research, most wizards kept a certain distance from Mer, making it difficult for her to talk to them.
They had no choice but to treat Mer that way. Mer was a familiar who had been personally crafted by the Wise Sienna, and based on a childhood version of herself at that. She also served as the artificial intelligence of Witch Craft, the greatest grimoire in all of magic history. Even though they had already dissected it once, all the wizards who had experienced the contents of Witch Craft were in awe of Mer.
However, Eugene wasn’t like that.
There was no reason for him to follow that trend. Respect for the Wise Sienna? Although he could admit that she was a great wizard, to Eugene, Sienna was just Sienna.
Eugene got straight to the point, “Do you hate that I’m leaving?”
“Um…,” Mer hesitated to reply.
“See now, you do hate it. To think that it’s already been two years since I first came here. Though it seems I’m the only one who regularly comes and goes from this floor,” Eugene noted sympathetically.
“That’s… it’s unavoidable,” Mer mumbled as she loosened her tightly clenched fists. “Because the other wizards have already finished examining Witch Craft long ago.”
It had been two years since Eugene first entered Akron. He had been visiting Akron almost every day since then and had spent around half of his waking hours in Sienna’s Hall.
This wasn’t particularly impressive or surprising. All the wizards who were allowed to enter Akron, like Eugene, diligently immersed themselves in the study of magic.
Most of the wizards who received permission to enter Akron had overwhelming pride and confidence in their magical abilities. But by refining their abilities even further, these wizards sought to reach the ultimate truths.
So wasn’t it just natural?
Mer had been in existence for over two hundred years. The wizards who had been permitted to enter Akron were now either Tower Masters, Heads of the Wizards Guild, a member of Aroth’s Court Wizards, or part of the royal family of Aroth. They had all been born with a rarely-seen gift for magic, and by now, they had already proven themselves as wizards.
For them, Witch Craft was an amazing piece of magic that their predecessor had left behind. The ultimate point of Circle magic — the Eternal Hole. If one was a wizard who had encountered Witch Craft for the first time, they couldn’t help but be stunned and in awe of its greatness.
Over their next few visits, these wizards would take their time to try to understand and explore the contents of Witch Craft. But they would eventually realize it.
That this truth wasn’t something that they could grasp just yet.
From then on, their visits would decrease. Although Witch Craft was a great piece of magic, the Archwizards who were allowed to enter Akron had already established their own magic formulas, and none were in a position where they could fully devote themselves to replicating Witch Craft. Their admiration and astonishment wouldn’t fade, and they would reference Witch Craft for their own magic, but… in the end, they would seek to complete their own unique magic formula through independent research.
In this respect, Eugene was unique.
Or at least that’s what he looked like in Mer’s view. It might be because he was young, or it might just be because he had yet to establish his own magic formula. Or maybe it was just that he was a flexible thinker? Or could it be due to having little pride in his identity as a wizard? It was probably all these things combined.
In these two years, Eugene had spent half his accrued time within Akron immersed in Witch Craft without ever fainting or getting a nosebleed. Every session, after spending quite some time perusing Witch Craft… he would then emerge to study the magic texts stored in Sienna’s Hall.
What meaning was there in watching that scene over and over again? When he wouldn’t be able to understand it anyway. It was said that a crow-tit will only tear its crotch if it tried to walk like a crane, but the level of Eugene’s magical skill compared to that required for Witch Craft wasn’t even up to the same level as the crow-tit’s crotch. Instead, it was more like the difference between the earthworm and a dragon or a bug and a god.
He had set his sights far too high.
It was probably because he was a young master of the Lionheart clan, which was a step above even the most prestigious families. And he wasn’t just any young master. No, he was a young master who had once been a collateral descendant and was the first in history to be adopted into the main family after being recognized for his talents, wasn’t he? It seemed obvious to others that Eugene was lost in his own genius and had set his sights on a height impossible for him to reach.
However….
Eugene was able to comprehend Witch Craft. No… could that really be called comprehension? It was more along the lines of pounding it straight into his head. Mer had been watching over Eugene for two years now, but she still couldn’t accept that Eugene’s behavior was in any way reasonable.
Mer finally asked, “…If you really do manage to complete the thesis, will you be leaving Aroth?”
Eugene returned her question with his own, “Do you know just how many times you’ve asked me that?”
“If you include today, then it’s the 137th time.”
“That sounds about right. Since I started writing my thesis about half a year ago… it means you’ve asked me that question about once a day.”
“There were two days when I didn’t ask that question,” Mer insisted poutily. “Fine. If I have to be honest, I don’t want you to leave Aroth.”
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