I deeply realized that being lectured normally is much better for one’s mental state than being provoked.
“Do you even know your own limits?” As I was teased by that heretic for over thirty minutes while he wandered around me, I ended up half-crying. But if he offered to cover the repair costs, it would’ve been a bargain. I couldn’t just resign myself to the fact that my head wasn’t screwed on right for breaking under such minor pressure—it wasn’t like I had much of a choice anyway, having reserved his time on the pretext of conducting a simple experiment.
Besides, Eliza defended me by saying, “I’ll get really mad if you keep tormenting my brother,” which made the situation better overall. My little sister is truly an angel. Though I was a bit worried when her magic power leaked, making her hair stand on end, she’s genuinely an angel.
“Hey, big brother.”
“Hm? What is it, Eliza?”
After being teased endlessly by the master, who then casually gave me a surprisingly impactful evaluation—”Well, you did manage to create something decent after all”—I was cleaning the apprentice quarters that had been designated as Eliza’s living space.
Although the mention of an apprentice’s room might evoke a nostalgic image of a modest boarding house, this sixteen-tatami mat space exuded grandeur befitting someone aspiring to a profession that required wealth. The grandeur was undeniable, enough to impress even someone who could afford such elegance.
As I worked with dexterous hands, gathering scattered memos and half-read books—though I had to remind myself to properly tidy things up—I used the “<Purge>” spell to clean various areas. Eliza approached me during this time. Turning around, I saw her lounging on her bed, which, though more plush than anything we had at home, was draped in silk nightwear gifted by Lord Raizenitz.
Though it doesn’t reveal much, the layers of delicate silk, likely worth more than the detached home of her brother’s family, are undoubtedly from the noble Raizenitz. The sight made me question just how twisted this life-celebrating aristocrat’s taste could be. As if cute clothes weren’t enough, dressing a young girl in such an extravagant nightgown is simply unhealthy—it borders on obsessive behavior. Additionally, why the fixation on gloves and socks? What psychological issue does it stem from?
“Why does big brother make such scary magic?”
My dear little sister asked with genuine curiosity. Tipping her head and looking at me with adorable and innocent eyes, she was undeniably charming. My little sister is truly an angel, there’s no doubt about it.
But the contents of her question struck me deeply.
“Why? Well, because it has various uses…”
There’s not much I can retort when called out about creating “scary” magic—it’s true, and I admit the power is a bit much even for myself.
“Various? Master says a lot of dangerous things, but I don’t quite understand. Why must you willingly involve yourself in such terrifying activities?”
The pure sentiment expressed in polished court language infiltrated my ears, traveled through the mind, and settled into the soul. It slowly dissolved the justification I had built for my reasons for training combat magic, which were simply to become an adventurer.
I merely follow a nostalgic impulse from my past life to become an adventurer. Of course, this isn’t a kindly pre-scripted story with moral lessons; it’s cutthroat, devoid of any soft-hearted narratives.
From the outset, the idea of killing is the norm in many jobs here. Some quests leave no options but worst-case scenarios, as if scripted like routine tasks. Even something seemingly righteous like hunting bandits doesn’t change the bloodshed it entails.
Saving villages from barbarian attacks and pillaging treasures in dungeons fundamentally remain the same. In the end, it all comes down to exchanging lives.
If one were to ask if it’s really right to work a job that’s accompanied by such bloodshed… Well, it’s hard to immediately say yes.
My motivation is, frankly, “light” and stems from the simple admiration of a hero’s tale that prompted me to leave my village, much like any level 1 fighter. However, the jobs awaiting here are different.
Fortunately, I haven’t killed a “human” yet. If I include magical species, monsters that were once somebody from somewhere, then my hands have indeed been dirtied.
However, I’ve never dealt the final blow to a living human.
The bandits I fought alongside Mika weren’t killed—somewhere out there, they’re likely growing taller. Even amid the minor incidents along the road to the Imperial Capital, we somehow managed to survive.
Still, that doesn’t guarantee smooth sailing in the future. After all, I couldn’t hold back against the former owner of the Sword of Desire, whose power was superior to mine. Though he was undead, had he been human, I would have undoubtedly killed him.
Thinking about it, it’s truly a terrifying scenario. Even though I’ve grown used to this violent world with its cheap and ever-nearby concept of death, my sense of the value of life hasn’t wavered.
Being told that battle magic is frightening made me reconsider. Yet, the exhilaration I felt after conquering that demon palace hasn’t faded, nor has my admiration diminished.
It’s just that what used to be a brightly colored picture has now gained a darker hue.
“Eliza… uh… I don’t know. Why must we involve ourselves in such scary things? You should study with me.”
However, the intensity of this line of thought is overwhelming. Is there any reason in my life that would make me willingly leave behind a peaceful existence?
“And yet, Eliza, there are many bad people in this world. So, for protection against bad people, a little bit of scary magic is necessary. If anything happened to Eliza, I’d be devastated.”
All I could do was give her a vague response, skirting around the issue.
It’s quite a complex question, delving into the high-level philosophical debate about whether humans have the right to harm one another. Honestly, there’s no gain from it mentally; it’s undeniably unhealthy. My past experiences dealing with such lofty yet futile philosophical inquiries until I was literally on my deathbed can confirm this. I indulged in such thoughts constantly, and they certainly weren’t good for my psychological well-being. Hence, I resorted to meditations to escape the pain, simply trying not to think about it.
“Hmm… Scary person… For protection…”
As Eliza silently muttered, her brow furrowed in deep thought like a young wizard in training, I shook my head. What kind of overly dramatic hero-from-a-story plot was she concocting? Engaging in such thought experiments is neither fun nor beneficial for anyone.
Reality remains that even leading a proper, peaceful life in this world often involves bloodshed. Whether through business dealings gone awry—like a robbery that ends with the death of family for their possessions—or the real dangers of abduction, which Eliza herself faced once, violence is an ever-present threat.
Fighters and defenders are indispensable. Whether for lofty ideals or more insubstantial reasons, their necessity remains.
Shaking off the nagging doubt, I finished the cleaning and prepared a snack for my deep-thinking younger sister who was lost in thought…
—
Anecdotal evidence suggests that a while back, the Adventurers’ Guild conducted a survey to understand why individuals chose to become adventurers. The third most common reason, at around 20%, cited admiration for the tales of heroes. The second reason, at around 25%, was “there wasn’t much else to do.” The top reason, at 38%, involved money and status.
That’s the nature of this world. Jobs and careers are often decided as casually as rolling a die. People’s lives are often devalued, less significant than a single silver coin.
Observing the growth of the apprentice, the master inwardly smirked at the necessity of a spur.
“Hey, Master.”
“Yes?”
Juggling multiple thoughts characteristic of the long-lived species, her hands moved unfalteringly as intricate court language materialized in glowing patterns in the air. A skill largely forgotten among the mages, this written etiquette is necessary to teach the noble class since they have a peculiar aversion to making direct agreements and rely heavily on letter-writing.
Amid this lesson, the apprentice, who until recently ate her sweets with delight, now nibbled thoughtfully, her gaze trailing toward the space once occupied by her own kin, asking,
“When can I start my magical training?”
It was a good question, not so much for its content but for the pattern of thought behind it.
Becoming wise means staying together with her brother. Mastering magic well could keep pesky fairies away from him. Being strong would allow her to protect him. The malevolent yet refined Agrippina du Staal frequently instilled this drive in her disciple.
Thanks to these motivators, her young spirit had grown steadily—graduating to the next gear today it seemed.
Gradually but surely, signs of indulgence faded from her words and actions—not external but from the mindset itself. She remained her ever-clingy little sister, yet there was a subtle shift coloring her character.
The obstinate, single-minded nature of a “fairy.”
“Soon, we shall go out for a meal as a test of formalities. If you behave like a proper young lady, I’ll consider it.”
At the age of eight, she’s still a half-fairy. Despite the years, the innate essence of her spirit is fairy-like, not human. Her learning has been unexpectedly fast; within a summer, her reading and conversational skills have improved enough to be praised as precocious among commoners.
Heartwarming in its entirety, it’s her motivation—her brother’s welfare—that makes her efforts endearing. Knowing the depths of her intentions, her progress inspires a mix of admiration and unease.
What kind of fairy made her human transformation?
Though knowledgeable in magic, Agrippina had a theory—an answer that wouldn’t take long to verify, whether considered in the long-lived species’ time frame or a human’s.
“But suddenly? Is it because big brother’s great magic intrigues you?”
“No… well, it’s not that. Brother mentioned it.”
Denying the inquiry, her words began describing dangerous people, a not unfamiliar topic. In an age of insufficient investigation and cross-city coordination, crimes that might be considered moderate could easily be evaded by fleeing to neighboring jurisdictions. Violence was, then, a profitable business.
So, nations imposed harsh public punishments to maintain order—chains and shackles for thieves, decapitations for murderers, and public hangings for highwaymen.
But heads lined up in droves and yet the supply of villains never depleted, much as Berncastle’s verse of poetic prose lamented.
“The grains of barley may, if counted, eventually come to an end, but the heads lining the fields of history will never run out.”
Tragically, this commentary on the perpetual folly of humankind holds true. And thus, people seek power for survival, or choose the protection of those with power in exchange for subservience.
“Yes. Don’t overly criticize. Your big brother does it for you.”
This folly persists, too, among the long-lived species who think faster and live longer than humans. For instance, the irrational pleasure in waking a sleeping child to observe their crying—an absurd indulgence.
Given her abilities and wealth, she could indeed guide the siblings in a more sensible, peaceful direction. Ensuring the younger sis aligns with proper human ethics and elevating the elder brother’s youthful dreams to a noble ideal are tasks well within her reach.
Instead, this heretic throws everything towards the side that’s “more interesting.”
Were there divine justice for the foolish, surely a thunderous verdict or an apostle of judgment should have struck immediately.
As shown—smiling as always, the heretic, and the half-fairy glowing with a sense of heavenly favor—two creatures seemingly untouched by the concept of righteousness, pressed on with their pursuits, suppressing heavier sentiments to focus on their studies.
The elder brother, after a quick bath to refresh his spirits, must have been hit by an inexplicable chill.
For the little sister, now deeply engrossed in devising methods to “completely protect” her elder brother from harm…
—
[Tips] Despite all, half-fairies remain fairies at the core, merely cloaked in a human shell.
As for this chapter, it serves as a prelude, setting the stage for deeper events—no particular deep meaning intended. Simply a narrative buildup.
Next time: Master Screen and introducing a new campaign.
