Three years have passed since I was reincarnated into this world.
I stood facing Claude at the House Kronstadt Training Ground. Faint afternoon sunlight slanted through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor.
“Now then, Lord Albert. Let us begin today’s training.”
Claude’s voice had a particular vigor to it today.
For the last three years, Claude has thoroughly drilled the basic theories of magic and mana control into me. I can say with some pride that I have spent nearly every waking moment devoted to my training.
It was grueling at first.
The standards Claude demanded were far beyond what was expected of a typical noble child. It wasn't just the sheer volume of knowledge he forced me to absorb; it was the practical application—the surgical precision of mana control. He refused to compromise on even the smallest detail.
Man, it was a struggle... I never imagined old man Claude would turn out to be such a hot-blooded teacher.
But the results are undeniable.
“Spell: Magic Shield.”
As Claude spoke, a shimmering defensive wall of mana manifested before him. It was a formidable barrier, strong enough to repel a direct strike from a knight’s broadsword.
Today was my practical exam.
I was to hurl my own mana against that very shield.
I circulated mana through my body, feeling my Magic Circuits heat up as if my blood were reaching a boil. The sensation surged through my limbs as I thrust out my right hand.
“Spell: Magic Bullet.”
A sphere of pale blue mana flickered into existence in my palm. I compressed it into a dense orb and fired.
The bolt of light tore through the air, colliding with the shield at a terrifying velocity.
Boom!
The impact reverberated through my entire frame. The stone tiles beneath my feet trembled, and cracks spiderwebbed across Claude’s shield. In an instant, the barrier shattered into useless fragments.
My Magic Bullet dissipated along with the shield, but the kinetic force remained. Claude let out a strangled yelp as he was sent tumbling backward.
“Uguooooooooooooh!”
“Teacher!”
I rushed to his side.
He’s over seventy years old, yet even as he lay sprawled on the ground, he waved his arms vigorously to show he was still in one piece.
“Hohoho... I am quite alright.”
He pushed himself up, his robes caked in dust. Fortunately, he didn't seem to have any major injuries.
“...Magnificent... Such a marvelous rate of growth! My old bones can no longer hope to serve as your sparring partner!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.
His expression was one of pure ecstasy, his breath coming in ragged, heavy gasps.
I don’t know what to make of it. Over the last three years, whenever he gets overwhelmed by emotion, he starts acting... weird.
The look in his eyes is dangerous—like a predator that has found a choice cut of meat, or perhaps a scholar who has stumbled upon a forbidden grimoire.
“A mere three years! To think you would surpass sixty years of my own cultivation in just three!”
He was visibly trembling with excitement, his breathing heavy and erratic.
To be honest, it’s a little scary.
“It’s all thanks to you, Claude.”
“What gracious words! I am truly honored.”
“But I can’t have you acting as my target anymore. It's too much.”
He’s an old man. One bad fall could result in broken bones. I need him to actually take care of himself.
“Please, do not say such tragic things! I shall endure it as many times as you wish!”
“No, I mean it. It’s dangerous.”
“I beg of you, do not be so cruel! For the sake of my soul! Please, grant me your blessing!”
“What do you even mean by ‘blessing’?! You’re going to die!”
“To die by Lord Albert’s magic would be my heart’s true desire!”
“Why would you even go there?!”
The way his eyes gleamed made him look like some kind of addict. I really wonder what happened to him. I thought he was a strict, traditional tutor. Maybe his age is finally catching up with him and he's going senile?
Because he wouldn't stop begging, I eventually gave in and fired a single, low-power Magic Bullet at him.
“Nhooooooooooooooo!”
Claude’s elderly body went flying again, accompanied by a high-pitched shriek.
Is he really going to be okay?
When I ran over to check on him, he had completely passed out, a look of pure bliss plastered across his face. For a moment, I panicked and checked if he was still breathing, but his pulse was steady.
Looking down at his satisfied, unconscious face—as if he were mid-way through a wonderful dream—I muttered to myself.
“Well, if you’re that happy to see your student grow, I guess I’m happy too.”
◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇
Even after training with Claude concluded, my day remained packed.
Being the son of a high-ranking noble meant I had an endless cycle of lessons and social obligations. I can sympathize—just a little—with why the original Albert was such a slacker who took his stress out on others.
Of course, I’m tackling everything with my full effort.
My life is on the line, after all. I can’t afford to do anything halfway if I want to dodge my death flags.
Night fell. After finishing dinner and my bath, I finally returned to my room.
At last, I had a moment to myself—or so it seemed.
I pulled the Imperial Book of Weather Control from its hiding place and set it on my desk. This was the book I had liberated from the House Kronstadt Secret Library.
Three years ago, it was complete gibberish to me. But thanks to Claude’s relentless tutoring, I began to parse its contents about two years back. Since then, I’ve spent every night studying it.
Now that I’ve built a solid foundation, I can understand the majority of the theories written within. I really do owe Claude everything.
Ancient Magic is said to have been developed by a civilization that predates our own.
Naturally, it was written in a tongue lost to time—and yet, this book is written in a language we can actually read.
According to the game’s lore, Ancient Magic was never passed down directly; it was lost to history. However, a legendary, enigmatic archmage who called himself the ‘Jester’ personally sought out these fragments of Ancient Magic and translated them into a modern tongue for posterity.
That said, anyone crazy enough to call himself the ‘Jester’ was bound to be eccentric.
The grimoires he left behind are incredibly deceptive. At a glance, this book looks like a standard theoretical text on Modern Magic. A casual reader would never realize that complex Ancient Magic techniques are woven into the text.
Everything has a hidden side.
The book is structured so that only by meticulously deconstructing the logic of the Modern Magic sections do the underlying, fundamental principles of Ancient Magic emerge.
In short, I’m trying to learn a skill that is not only inherently difficult but also intentionally encrypted.
I wish he’d just written the damn thing normally!
Even after three years of study, I haven't fully cracked the code. I still haven't actually cast a single Ancient Magic spell.
I wonder if I can master this by the time I turn fifteen and enter the academy...
It was then.
The moment I turned the page to begin the next paragraph—
My vision warped.
What?
The scenery around me began to twist and distort.
I thought for a second that I was simply collapsing from exhaustion, but my mind felt perfectly sharp. The space itself was melting.
My desk, my bed, the warm glow of the lamp—it all dissolved like mist.
In a heartbeat, the world was dyed a blinding white.
When the light faded, I found myself standing before a piece of Japanese architecture.
It was a traditional Japanese house, elegant and ancient. I stood in a garden of beautiful white gravel, staring up at the building. Aside from the crackle of the bonfires scattered around the grounds, the silence was absolute.
What is this?
Is it a dream?
No, the reality of it was too visceral. I could feel the cool air pressing against my skin.
Beyond the veranda, light glowed softly through the shoji screens, casting the silhouette of a person against the paper.
Is someone in there?
Where on earth am I?
I took a single step forward.