Dark Fantasy Normalized – Chapter 35

“Can you help with Ricir’s sudden elixir consumption?”

Meltas was taken aback but also surprisingly moved.

“Ricir, do you know the value of this elixir?”

“I believe it’s roughly equivalent to a mansion in the capital.”

“Do you need to quantify everything to get over it?”

“Not really, but it makes it easier to understand, doesn’t it?”

“…Anyway, you know the value of this elixir and still asked me for help.”

“Did I perhaps overstep?”

“Overstep? Quite the opposite.”

Taking the elixir was a monumental matter for a mage. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say one’s entire life was at stake; the monetary value of the elixir was enough to ensure a lifetime of leisure.

The effects of such an elixir? It could completely change the course of one’s life.

It could bring someone to a level they’d have taken years to reach or even open entirely new paths.

Asking for help with the consumption of such an elixir was akin to entrusting one’s life to someone else. It was no small feat unless one felt immense trust.

“Isn’t this our first meeting? How could you ask me such a thing? What if I developed ill intent after seeing the elixir?”

The title of ‘Master’ among the elite of the Mage Tower wasn’t something simply earned by skill. They needed to possess reputation and character as well. It likely wouldn’t be easy to find someone with more credibility than Meltas in Bondales. Ricir’s judgment wasn’t entirely misguided.

However, it wasn’t absolutely correct either—Ricir’s elixir was treasure enough to stir envy even among those trustworthy individuals. If Meltas were asked to recommend someone worthy of assisting with the elixir, he could confidently name only five.

In that sense, Meltas was quite pleased with the current situation. Ricir was placing maximum trust in him.

Filled with anticipation, Meltas waited for Ricir’s answer.

Perhaps a response like, “I’ve heard about Master Meltas’s reputation. If I absolutely needed to choose someone trustworthy in Bondales, it would be Master Meltas,” would return to him?

The old man was already envisioning Ricir serving him as a disciple.

“I was certain Master Meltas wouldn’t harbor ill intentions.”

“Um, what makes you think so?”

“You witnessed me gaining the interest of the Assassin Guild Master. I assumed you wouldn’t make a wrong judgment when feeling mentally perturbed.”

“…”

Meltas was stunned. Contrary to his expectations, Ricir’s judgment stemmed from a cold, rational analysis, completely unrelated to respect or trust!

Meltas was at a loss—should he raise his evaluation of Ricir or feel slighted at having been chosen for such a trivial reason?

“On a separate note, I thought Master Meltas wouldn’t be someone to tarnish his credibility over such matters.”

“A bit… you are not very adept at flattery. If you had just polished that last comment a little, you would have made a much better impression.”

“Is that so? But isn’t it a bit odd to fully trust someone you just met?”

“That’s true. In fact, regardless of the good impression, my evaluation of you has dropped. You, surprisingly, have a clearer sense of reasoning than I expected. Your impression was indecisive, yet it’s quite the opposite.”

“Master Meltas, if you had just polished your last comment a bit, you would have given me a far better impression. I’m quite sensitive to compliments, you see.”

“Seems you don’t want to hear nice things. Weren’t you excitedly speaking just now?”

“What a beneficial conversation. I feel the duplicity has vanished from our relationship and instead is filled with pure truth.”

“Where on earth did this come from?”

Meltas shook his head lightly and began preparing for the assistance with the elixir’s consumption.

“Ricir, we have a problem.”

“Please, don’t tell me my elixir is faulty. I’m already prepared to cry.”

“Quite the opposite. Where on earth did this elixir come from?”

“What?”

Normally, one should know what they’re taking. Meltas started analyzing the elixir for more effective consumption. That’s where the problem arose.

“Honestly, I can’t figure out the components and magic contained within this elixir.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Is it even possible for something so elaborately crafted and delicately processed to exist? I can’t even begin to gauge it.”

Ricir felt a sense of déjà vu. Now that he thought about it, he remembered having a similar conversation with his master, Pamon.

“This kind of elixir can’t simply be bought with a lot of money; I’m genuinely curious about its source. It almost feels like it was stolen from the treasury of some noble family.”

“Haha. Stolen from a noble family treasury? You’re exaggerating.”

Ricir averted his gaze and shifted the topic.

“So, what should I do? Should I just taste it? I’ve been taught that when it comes to drinking, a man should just go for it without questioning.”

“What manhood? It’s the foolish bravado of the ignorant. For the record, I’ve never even taken a sip of alcohol in my life. Alcohol is poison that clouds the mind.”

“But isn’t there a point where one will inevitably have to drink to maintain smooth social interactions and relationships?”

“Shut your mouth. In any case, I think consuming this elixir will require additional help.”

“Ah, are you talking about that Marina person?”

“What kind of nonsense are you spouting? I’m well ahead of Marina in every field of knowledge! I’m just saying this isn’t primarily my area of expertise.”

“Come along, then.”

Ricir picked up the elixir and followed Meltas.

Inside the dark and cramped tower, a bunch of eerie magicians were huddled together.

That had been Ricir’s prior impression of the Mage Tower. After taking a look around, he had to admit it was a prejudice.

The buildings were more reminiscent of ‘tombs’ than ‘towers,’ and they were interconnected in an organized manner.

The passageways connecting the buildings were wide between the pillars, giving it an open impression. The warm sunlight filtering through and the well-cared-for gardens around added vibrancy to the openness.

“I expected the Mage Tower to be a bit gloomier.”

“That’s a common misunderstanding. The Mage Tower symbolizes the lofty aspirations of students chasing the values of high intellect.”

Meltas looked at Ricir with shining eyes.

“Are you starting to take interest in this place?”

“Shall I share what I’ve felt while touring here?”

“Go on.”

“This place has a quite expensive registration fee, doesn’t it? Beneath the lavish pillars, I can almost hear the cries of the students.”

“Don’t go portraying the Mage Tower like it’s the den of necromancers. Also, you don’t need to worry about the tuition fee. There are scholarship and subsidy programs.”

“So, it’s a structure that exploits the vast majority in favor of a select few. Do you think I would be among that select few?”

“Ahem. Let’s stop talking about money. There’s nothing more pointless than measuring academic value by material standards.”

“Ricir. I will make you my disciple!”

Meltas’s heartfelt efforts continued. While moving, he earnestly tried to highlight the advantages of the Gray Mage Tower to Ricir.

During that process, Meltas had a surprising revelation.

‘Ah! He really has no interest in academic value whatsoever!’

The long history and tradition of the Gray Mage Tower. The meaning and value of belonging to such a tower were things any mage should necessarily be interested in.

Ricir showed no interest at all. Meltas’s talk about pride, rights, and duties as a mage mattered little to him. Ricir’s goal was to gain maximum benefits with minimal responsibilities. He wanted to enjoy powers without being bound by the tower—such was the shallow, pragmatic mindset.

In the end, Meltas had no choice but to surrender.

“…For your information, belong to the Mage Tower, and you will surely be respected wherever you go. I guarantee it on my name.”

“Oh…”

“And with that, Ricir, would you consider learning magic under me?”

“You mean, would you like me to become Master Meltas’s disciple?”

“Yes! That’s exactly it!”

“But I already have someone I regard as a master.”

“What!!!”

Bam.

Meltas stood frozen, his face resembling someone struck by lightning.

But soon, he applied the technique he learned from his meeting with Ricir (a shockingly) open mindset.

“Then, I’d be fine being a second master.”

“What?”

Bam.

Ricir stood frozen, his face resembling someone struck by lightning.

“Is it really possible to have such a relationship?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Learning is an endless journey. Placing limitations is akin to imprisoning yourself in a cage.”

“That’s a good point, but… pardon me, but do you have any plans to take an interest in black magic or necromancy in the near future? Your eyes seem a bit overly bright right now.”

“Nonetheless, I hope you seriously consider it.”

“Yes. I’ll keep that in mind. By the way, what’s the deal with these supporters?”

“Is it right to say that after saying I’ll keep it in mind? Did you mean to imply that you were going to endure my suggestion?”

“Oh come on. Why are you being so clingy?”

“Tsk, tsk. You impudent one. Just you wait. I will absolutely make you my disciple.”

“Oh dear.”

Ricir’s mind was in chaos.

‘This is the first time I’m facing a clingy old man with dreadlocks…!’

* * *

The barrier’s effect. The Mage Tower grounds were much larger than they appeared from the outside.

After a while, the two arrived at their destination, which was the alchemy hall directly opposite the magic hall.

“Ah, Master Meltas.”

As they walked down the corridor, several female students recognized Meltas and approached. Until just recently, they had been laughing and engaging in conversation but quickly offered polite greetings to Meltas before swiftly leaving.

‘Ah, the professor and the students… it’s just like a school.’

With such thoughts in mind, Ricir proceeded down the corridor.

“Hm?”

His steps suddenly halted.

It was the place where the female students had gathered. A woman was lying on the ground. Papers were scattered everywhere around her, all stamped with footprints.

“Ahem. I’ve shown a shameful sight.”

Should this be called a school too? The scene of bullying revealed Meltas’s shortcomings, and he coughed while quickening his pace to leave.

“Ricir?”

But Ricir, who had vanished beside him, was now crouched near the woman, collecting the papers.

‘Doesn’t this feel familiar?’

That was because he could see his old self reflected in her.

“…”

Meltas looked at Ricir as if he were an alien.

The victim of the bullying was a half-demon. Even though Meltas felt pity for her, he couldn’t bring himself to help.

From societal standards, the typical group was the female students bullying the half-demon, while the unconventional one was Ricir, who willingly helped her.

While Ricir gathered the papers, the woman remained sitting still.

And she stared at Ricir with her characteristic eyes, quietly watching him as if witnessing a magical phenomenon unfolding right in front of her.

“Was it meddling on my part?”

Ricir asked as he handed the gathered papers to the woman. She shook her head.

“No. Thank you for helping.”

With an emotionless face and voice, she expressed her gratitude.

Ricir nodded and offered her his hand.

“…”

After some time of assessing his hand, she cautiously said:

“It must be dirty.”

“Dirty?”

A being endowed with both blessings and curses of mana—a demon. The half-demon, possessing partially demonic traits, inherited specific characteristics of her kind.

The mark on her hand was a prime example.

The woman lifted her hands to show Ricir. Geometric red patterns, like veins, bulged from her hands. Her arms were wrapped in dark-colored sleeves.

“I usually wear gloves, but I’ve lost them now.”

She repeatedly opened and closed her hands. Even while sharing an unpleasant story, her expression and voice remained unchanged.

If anything, this made it easier for Ricir to treat her more casually.

“It’s okay. I’m a bastard too.”

“?”

In the end, the woman grasped Ricir’s hand and stood up.

“This is interesting.”

She forced a smile, lifting one corner of her mouth unnaturally. It looked like she was trying to overlay emotions onto her otherwise emotionless face.

Then she turned around and left.

Ricir and Meltas resumed walking.

“…”


“…”


“…”

As they went their separate ways, the three found themselves walking side by side through the corridor.

“Ahem.”

Breaking the silence was Meltas.

“Did Didoa say Master Tulan was in the laboratory?”

“No, Master Meltas. Master Tulan is currently away.”

“This is troubling.”

“?”

Ricir directed a puzzled glance at Meltas.

Do you know her?

“She is Master Tulan’s assistant.”

Ahem. Then he added in an explanatory tone.

“By the way, if I show any kindness to Didoa, it will likely put her in an awkward position.”

“No one said anything.”

“I’m just feeling guilty when I say this, so just take it as is.”

Didoa nodded by his side.

“Master Meltas is right. It’s best to avoid associating with me from now on. The people of the tower won’t look kindly upon it.”

Moments later, Ricir and Meltas finally arrived at their destination.

The office and laboratory of Tulan, the elite alchemist of the Gray Mage Tower.

Didoa opened the door and guided the two. Just as she mentioned, Tulan was indeed absent.

Didoa led Ricir and Meltas to a sofa placed in the center of the room. Then she took a cup from a shelf and presented it to them.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Good call. Anything my hands touch is dirty.”

“…Now that I think about it, I’m somewhat thirsty. I’ll have tea, please.”

Didoa quickly poured the tea and placed it in front of Ricir and Meltas. Standing beside them, she fidgeted with her bare hands as if unsure of what to do.

“Ahem, Didoa, I didn’t specifically ask for tea.”

Meltas glanced at Didoa’s hands awkwardly while speaking.

“Well, that worked out well. I’m quite thirsty right now.”

“…No. It’s fine. Just drink it.”

With great difficulty, Meltas took a sip of tea and started to speak.

“Didoa, when do you expect Master Tulan to return?”

“Probably around sunset.”

“…That’s quite inconvenient.”

“Was the person Master Meltas mentioned as the helper, Master Tulan?”

“Ah. Master Tulan is one of the most knowledgeable alchemists in this Gray Mage Tower.”

“Is it impossible to consume the elixir without her assistance?”

“Not really. It’s just that she was the first skilled alchemist to come to mind. In truth, anyone skilled would do.”

Listening to the conversation, Ricir turned his gaze towards Didoa.

“I hear you’re Master Tulan’s assistant, Didoa?”

“…Ricir, you don’t mean?”

“If you’re an assistant to the most knowledgeable alchemist, doesn’t that guarantee your skills?”

“…Oh dear.”

Meltas fiddled with his braids, trying to quell his anxiety.

To think he’d trust such a precious elixir with a half-demon!

“So, I need to ask, Didoa. Would that be alright?”

“…”

Didoa’s gaze turned toward the window.

* * *

Didoa.

Today was an important day for her.

It was the day her long-prepared plan would finally bear fruit.

“…No. It’s fine. If you need help, I’ll assist you.”

Didoa decided to postpone her plan.

It was a moment where Tulan and several alchemists’ lives were extended.