Chapter 25
Tult spoke with an ecstatic expression.
“The medicine… it’s good stuff.”
“Hey, don’t say it like that, idiot. If someone overhears, they’ll get the wrong idea,”
Briella snapped back in disbelief, but it seemed Tult didn’t hear her at all.
“The medicine is so good, really…”
“I said stop it.”
Briella growled, but this time a blissful voice came from the other side.
“I want to take the medicine again tomorrow…”
It was Aira.
“Ugh, seriously.”
Briella covered her face and sighed, looking completely lost as to what she should even say.
Ever since they took the medicine Sion distributed to the students, they’d been making faces like this nonstop.
The problem wasn’t just these two—everyone else was wearing similar expressions and saying similar things.
Of course, Briella herself was a little different.
Coming from a mercenary family, she’d experienced all sorts of situations.
Unlike children of noble families, mercenaries’ offspring were bound to go through every imaginable hardship.
‘Well, it’s not like I don’t understand…’
Even Briella couldn’t help but marvel as she felt the overflowing energy coursing through her body.
She had to admit it.
Sion’s claim that they’d reach the 3rd Circle within a week wasn’t an exaggeration.
A stable mana training method.
On top of that, a miraculous elixir that accelerated the growth of that method—made from the bones of a dragon, no less.
At this point, it would be strange if it didn’t work.
In any case, the students were completely absorbed in practicing Sion’s mana training method while absorbing the elixir’s energy.
“Hm.”
Arms crossed, Sion quietly observed the scene.
He was watching in case there were students who failed to properly absorb the training method and went berserk.
[There don’t appear to be any students going out of control.]
‘That’s what it looks like.’
It was good news.
It meant he didn’t have to deal with unnecessary trouble.
Still, just in case, he decided to examine the students’ conditions more closely.
‘Akasha.’
[Yes, understood.]
The moment he finished speaking, Akasha—having naturally received Sion’s permission—began moving mana.
Instantly, the scenery in Sion’s vision changed.
[Insight Eye activated.]
Akasha truly had a wide range of functions.
From information gathering—which Sion had been using extensively—to magical computation assistance… and this Insight Eye was one of them.
He could clearly see the mana each student possessed and how it flowed.
Some students had slow flows.
Others had fast flows, but their mana was leaking uselessly.
[For various reasons, mana loss is severe. Some cannot control the flow, while others fail to regulate it properly, causing unnecessary leakage.]
‘Normally, people just lump all that together and call it talent.’
There were those who instinctively minimized mana loss.
And those people were called geniuses.
Magic, in particular, was a discipline heavily influenced by such talent.
If you had talent, you accumulated Circles even without effort.
If you lacked talent, no matter how hard you tried, there was a limit.
That was the common belief in the current magical world.
Whether it was true or not, it was a belief shared among mages.
And Sion didn’t entirely deny it.
But—
‘I hate that.’
He despised a reality where talent was decided at birth, and one’s status followed from it.
Altair, in the past, dreamed of becoming a mage—but he wasn’t born with magical talent.
That was why he became a craftsman.
He didn’t regret becoming one, but still, it pissed him off.
I mean, really.
Who decided that lacking talent meant you couldn’t be a mage?
That’s reality?
Yeah, screw that.
[Yes, Human, you were that kind of person. I acknowledge it. You rejected common sense whenever it didn’t sit right with you.]
‘Yeah, you know me well.’
Sion snorted softly and turned his gaze back to the students.
Perhaps the reason he felt drawn to these youngsters was that same innate rebellious streak.
The growth of the Azure Tower mattered—but he hated even more the sight of people falling into despair because they were blocked by “talent.”
With that thought, Sion carefully observed the mana flow of each student in the classroom.
Memorizing it wasn’t difficult.
He did this sort of thing all the time.
He quickly categorized the information in his head—
Like shelves in a library organized by category.
‘Classification isn’t hard.’
The reasons each student failed to fully express their magical talent varied.
But once grouped into broad categories, the patterns were surprisingly fixed.
Classify them.
Teach them accordingly.
That was how Sion set his future educational policy.
‘Go on. Try working hard.’
At the very least, I’ll make sure you get rewards worthy of that effort.
With that thought, Sion looked at each student in turn.
Over the next week—
Many things would change.
“I’ll make it happen.”
After finishing his lecture as usual, Sion flung open Lumia’s office door like he always did.
“Tower Master.”
“Eek?!”
“I have something to discuss.”
“What about my privacy?! Why does it feel like you don’t care at all?!”
Lumia protested fiercely—she’d been in the middle of repairing a golem.
But Sion ignored her confidently.
“What nonsense. I told you beforehand I’d be checking your homework at this time.”
“Oh.”
“And for the record, you’re the one who didn’t reply.”
“D-did I? More importantly, is it already that late…?”
“It’s 4 p.m.”
“A-already?!”
Lumia gasped.
Judging by her reaction, she’d been so absorbed in repairing the golem that she’d lost track of time.
‘Not bad.’
Sion considered this level of focus a form of talent.
Being able to immerse oneself passionately in something wasn’t easy.
Without passion, it was useless—but with passion, it could be put to use.
Sion glanced over the golem Lumia was working on and immediately pointed something out.
“You connected wire number three incorrectly.”
“W-what?! I thought I connected it properly…!”
“It’s a wire people often mix up. Just connect it to the opposite side.”
“…Ah.”
Lumia followed Sion’s instruction and reconnected the wire.
Kiiiing.
The golem, which hadn’t moved at all before, lifted its head.
Lumia’s face instantly lit up.
“Ah! It worked!”
“Hm.”
Sion stroked his chin as he looked at her.
‘Her talent for magitech really isn’t great, to put it kindly.’
It was the complete opposite of her magical talent.
Altair had solved the very problem Lumia struggled with now at the age of twelve—
On his own. Without anyone teaching him.
Purely through self-study.
Clearly a difference in talent.
Still, Sion had no intention of stopping Lumia from studying magitech.
It was necessary.
As the future owner of the “Magitech Tower” he was designing, she needed to understand it.
However—
“Tower Master Lumia.”
“Y-yes…?”
With a strict, solemn, serious expression, Sion addressed her.
“Your effort is commendable. It has meaning. I believe that focusing deeply and immersing yourself in something is itself a form of effort.”
“I-I see!”
“That’s why I assigned you homework. I wanted to gauge your level.”
Which was why Sion had deliberately given Lumia increasingly difficult tasks.
To assess her talent.
“As a result, I’ve determined that your talent in magitech is not particularly high.”
“Ah…”
“But that’s fine. I know how to compensate for a lack of talent. If you continue to put in effort, I can raise your magitech skill to a high level.”
“Th-thank you!”
To think he’d been considering her so carefully!
Lumia barely managed to hold back tears.
‘Yes, Sion has lived like a bit of a brute until now, but he must’ve had his reasons!’
Once again, she reminded herself of the life lesson that you shouldn’t judge people until the end.
That’s life.
…Or so she thought.
“But still, aren’t you neglecting the Tower’s affairs a bit too much?”
“…Huh?”
Lumia froze mid-sparkle.
Then she rolled her eyes nervously and asked,
“T-the Tower’s affairs?”
“What do you think a Tower Master is?”
“T-the owner of the Tower…?”
“In other words?”
“A… bourgeois?”
“That’s not exactly the word that should come out at this moment, but let’s let that slide.”
Sion sighed lightly.
“The correct answer is: a manager.”
“…Ah.”
“Miss Lumia, you are currently in charge of managing the Azure Tower. So what exactly have you been doing all this time?”
“I-I’ve been doing magitech research…”
“Fine. And the Tower itself?”
“S-Sion has been… handling everything…”
“Tsk.”
“No, I mean—y-you do handle everything! And honestly…!”
Lumia shut her eyes tight and shouted.
“Everything I’ve touched so far has gone completely to hell! Totally screwed up!”
“……”
“Since I ruin everything efficiently, I judged it more efficient for you to handle the work!”
“That’s true.”
“R-right?”
“Painfully true.”
With that, Sion grabbed Lumia’s cheeks and stretched them outward.
“Mmphhh…!”
“I get that failing repeatedly crushed your confidence. But does giving up entirely make you a Tower Master?”
“Mmmphhh…!”
“You should look for other methods and make an effort. No matter how important studying magic is, can you really abandon your duties as Tower Master?”
Lumia shook her head miserably.
“Mmmh…”
“Right. You can’t.”
Sion nodded and let go.
“Therefore, today, you’ll be working with me as Tower Master.”
Lumia rubbed her reddened cheeks and asked,
“W-work… as in?”
“I understand that the Azure Tower once had many excellent mages. When the Tower’s power declined, many of them left like migratory birds.”
“Y-yes…”
“But I doubt everyone left so heartlessly.”
“…That’s…”
Lumia’s expression darkened.
“…You’re right. Some wanted to stay.”
“What happened to them?”
“They…”
In a gloomy voice, Lumia explained.
“They lost ‘legitimate duels’ against mages backed by noble families. Some were bound by contracts to those families for decades. Others had their mana hearts destroyed.”
“Hah.”
Sion let out a hollow laugh.
A mage’s duel was merciless.
Just like a noble’s duel—stake something, and the winner takes everything.
“Don’t tell me all of them lost? If they belonged to one of the Four Great Mage Towers, they should’ve been strong enough.”
“They were all excellent mages. But as you know, numbers matter. And with the Magic Council backing their opponents…”
“I understand.”
Sion nodded, organizing the situation in his mind.
‘They lost duels one after another… and even the remaining mages of the Azure Tower were taken.’
Typically, the winner of a duel imposed a contract on the loser—
Usually forcing them to serve the victor’s family for a set period.
Sion knew this well.
It was a tool nobles and mages used frequently.
“In cases where the mana heart was destroyed—was that because they refused the contract?”
“…Yes.”
If a mana heart was destroyed, a mage’s life was essentially over.
According to common magical belief, a destroyed mana heart could never be restored.
“I see. Then let’s go.”
Sion suddenly stood up.
Lumia looked at him in confusion.
“G-go? Where to?”
“To retrieve them.”
Sion smiled faintly.
“The seniors who were taken.”
