Chapter 18
The Marquess Rostery family.
A prestigious house with a long history, and one of the most powerful noble families in the Empire.
Naturally, the main residence of the Rostery family was magnificent—grand enough to be called a small castle.
“Father.”
A white-haired woman approached the Marquess of Rostery.
“My daughter, you’ve come.”
The marquess set aside the documents he had been reviewing and turned his gaze toward her.
Cornelia Rostery.
The eldest daughter of the Rostery family—and a genius mage worthy of being called the family’s pride.
She was a mage affiliated with the White Tower, the most orthodox and authoritative of all magic towers, and stood at the very pinnacle of her generation.
“I trust you remember my request,” she said.
“You mean the upcoming dispatch.”
“Yes.”
Cornelia continued firmly.
“We cannot continue to tolerate that child’s incompetence. It makes no sense to let him live idly in the Blue Tower forever.”
“I agree,” the marquess replied calmly, nodding.
“Do you remember the main family’s creed, passed down for generations?”
‘The blood of Rostery must be noble,’” she answered.
“Indeed. Being born is not enough. If one is born noble, one must prove that nobility—just like you have.”
“…….”
“One of the Four Great Towers—the White Tower—and even there, a promising genius mage.”
Cornelia possessed talent perfectly befitting the ‘dignity’ of the Rostery family.
And she did not rest on that talent—she worked relentlessly.
It was only natural that the marquess favored her.
Thus, he readily entrusted her with authority.
“Your request is justified. Do as you wish.”
“Thank you.”
“However…”
The marquess hesitated briefly as he watched her bow respectfully, then asked,
“I am curious. Why are you so fixated on the third child? As you say, he’s a worthless failure.”
“Because he is incompetent,” she answered without hesitation.
“The mere existence of the third child stains our family’s reputation. Not only does he lack talent—he doesn’t even try.”
“You’re not wrong. So you intend to handle it personally?”
“Yes. Either way, I want to finish it with my own hands.”
There wasn’t the slightest trace of affection in her voice.
“I see.”
The marquess tapped the desk lightly with his index finger, lost in thought, before speaking again.
“Then depart for the Blue Tower in one month. That was the agreed date.”
“Yes.”
“And recently, I heard there was… a change at the Blue Tower.”
“A change…?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, recalling the information he had received.
To be honest, it was so absurd that he’d wondered whether the informant was mad—or playing a joke on him.
“They say the third child became an instructor at the Blue Tower.”
“…What?”
Cornelia’s eyes widened.
This was information reported only to the marquess—she was hearing it for the first time.
“That child who couldn’t even form a proper circle… a ‘teacher’?”
“So it seems. At least, he’s officially been granted the position. But we’ll need to investigate the truth behind it.”
It could be the Blue Tower pulling some petty scheme against the Rostery family.
Or perhaps the cornered third child made an unreasonable demand.
Either way, the marquess was certain that Sion had become an instructor without proper qualifications.
After all, he had already confirmed countless times that the third child lacked talent.
“I trust you understand what I’m implying.”
“Yes, Father.”
As Cornelia bowed deeply, a chilling light passed through her eyes.
* * *
Sion’s second lecture.
Standing calmly at the podium, Sion surveyed the students.
“There are more of you.”
There had already been a decent turnout for the first lecture—but now, the number had grown even larger.
[It’s likely related to the restoration of the tower’s functions.]
“Yeah, probably.”
As the long-dormant facilities of the Blue Tower began operating again, student interest in magical engineering had risen sharply.
After all, structures like magic towers weren’t built by magic alone—but by the magical engineering that inscribed that magic.
Take the cleaning golems, for example—recently awakened and diligently tidying the tower.
They were golems created through magical engineering, introduced under the previous tower master, Belusian.
They were on a completely different level from golems made purely through magic.
They had excellent durability, high intelligence, and versatile applications.
Naturally, as students experienced that convenience firsthand, their curiosity about magical engineering grew.
And so, the number of students increased.
That was exactly what Sion intended.
He could force magical engineering onto them—but that would be meaningless.
Students had to understand its value themselves and be driven to explore it.
Rote instruction had its limits.
‘Of course, their image of Sion Rostery probably still isn’t great…’
There was no need to rush.
Time would take care of it.
“Today’s topic is simple,” Sion said, scanning the room.
“Using magical tools.”
“Magical tools… usage? Isn’t that something we can already do without a lecture?”
One student tilted their head.
Generally, magical tools were easy to use.
Some required complex操作, but those were rare.
Sion nodded.
“True. Anyone who can use mana can use magical tools.”
“Yes, so it doesn’t really seem necessary—”
“Then let me rephrase. What I’ll teach you is application—the fusion of magic and magical tools.”
He emphasized his words.
“Using magical tools is easy. Applying them in real combat is another matter entirely.”
“Ah…”
“Let’s use a basic spell as an example—the 1st-circle Magic Missile.”
Once again, Sion casually manifested Magic Missile before everyone.
A bright blue mass of mana floated above his palm.
“A spell you’re all familiar with. Primitive magic—simply condensed mana fired outward.”
“Yes.”
“Then is there anyone here who can alter this Magic Missile purely through their own magical ability?”
The students began murmuring, glancing at one another.
Spell modification was no easy feat.
Maintaining a completed spell while altering its structure required exceptional mana comprehension and calculation ability.
“No one.”
Sion nodded calmly and began transforming the spell right before their eyes.
Bzzz.
Effortlessly, the mana mass changed shape—splitting into smaller forms.
One mass became eight.
“Th-that easily…?!”
“That’s insane…”
The students stared in shock.
Sion spoke calmly.
“Of course it’s not easy. I know only a chosen few can do this.”
‘Is he mocking us?’
The students thought simultaneously.
They now acknowledged Sion Rostery’s absurd talent.
Talent, yes.
Personality—separate issue.
Silence fell over the classroom.
Power reserved for geniuses alone.
Cruelly unfair.
And those present were not among the chosen.
“Doesn’t it feel unfair? A realm you can never reach no matter how hard you try.”
“……”
“You might accept it if effort could bridge the gap—but having no chance at all is truly unfortunate.”
As he spoke, Sion’s gaze paused on a familiar face.
Aira Covella.
When their eyes met, she quickly looked away.
‘She said she wouldn’t come.’
Like father, like daughter.
Smiling faintly, Sion continued.
“Unfortunately, we can’t create talent where none exists. It’s innate.”
“Then… what should we do?”
Tult, seated in the front row, asked cautiously.
Sion answered by pulling out a magical tool.
“Use magical tools.”
“…!”
Everyone’s eyes widened.
It was an unfamiliar tool—bracelet-like, thin, and simple.
“Tult, come here.”
Tult stood nervously, approached Sion, and took the tool.
“Put it on your wrist and cast Magic Missile.”
“Yes.”
Tult carefully equipped it and began chanting.
And then—
“…Huh?”
Eight mana spheres appeared above his palm—just like Sion’s.
Magic Missile had manifested already modified.
“…!”
The students were stunned.
Tult was talented—but not enough to instantly modify spells.
Tult stared wide-eyed at the spell.
“How…?”
“See? There is a way to compensate for lack of talent.”
The students’ expressions changed.
If Tult could do it, maybe they could too.
“Th-then next, me—!”
“No, me first!”
Hands shot up everywhere.
Sion replied lazily.
“Experience doesn’t come for free.”
“…What?”
“But Tult—?”
“He proved his worth. He’s been helping me for a while.”
“Oh…”
“Then shouldn’t you help me with something trivial as well?”
Isn’t this a lecture?
That thought spread.
Brieilla voiced it first.
“That’s… that’s cheap! Th-this is a lecture!”
A fair point.
Sion was unmoved.
“I’m unpaid for three months—deal with it.”
“…Oh.”
“Well… what do you want?”
“Labor.”
“…Labor?”
“Yes.”
Without hesitation, Sion continued.
“I’m planning a major renovation of the main tower. Carrying, breaking, assembling—”
“So… just manual labor?”
“Exactly.”
Sion grinned.
“Don’t like it? Leave. I won’t stop you.”
Silence.
All eyes drifted to the magical tool on Tult’s wrist.
And soon after—
“Let’s go, slaves.”
Sion secured dozens of perfectly suitable workers for manual labor.
“…Yes.”
Dozens of students, utterly captivated by the magical tool, shuffled out of the classroom behind him.
