Chapter 7

Several months later.

Alongside his water magic, Dale’s necromancy practice was advancing by leaps and bounds day by day.

News that the Black Tower Master had officially accepted his son as a disciple spread like wildfire.

There are things that cannot be hidden, no matter how hard one tries. Especially a talent as brilliantly radiant as Dale’s.

Magic and swordsmanship. Add to that the etiquette of nobility, horsemanship, and every conceivable knowledge required of the eldest son destined to lead the duke’s house. When Dale turned nine the following year, people did not hesitate to call him the prodigy of the duke’s house.

He was none other than the son of the Duke of Saxony himself.

The continent’s foremost commander of magic, a dark mage, the successor carrying on the legacy of the Black Duke.

The father’s solemn vow never to teach his own child dark magic. The breaking of that very vow sent ripples through the entire empire.

In other words, the entire empire had begun to watch Dale’s every move.

Sunlight shattered into golden fragments, scattering across the snow-white plain. Footprints were etched along the pristine, snow-covered plain, and at their end, two shadows stood facing each other.

Sepia, the Snow Elf with sapphire-blue eyes. And Dale of Saxony, the prodigy of the Duke’s house.

“Don’t hesitate. Attack with everything you’ve got.”

The Elf Mage of the Sixth Circle, Sepia, spoke. Her expression was more solemn than usual.

The easiest and quickest way for a master to gauge a disciple’s progress.

A magical duel.

It was the act of directly experiencing and withstanding the full force of a disciple’s surging magic.

Yet, facing a mere nine-year-old novice at the level of a 1st Circle Master, Sepia’s gaze held a caution akin to that of a mage in the thick of battle.

Silence descended. And the moment the feathers of that silence settled upon the snow-white plain.

“Rise, ‘Bound’ Wall of Ice.”

Dale finally uttered the incantation.

A wizard’s spell is a process of self-suggestion that solidifies one’s mental imagery through the “verbalization of images.” Dale consciously introduced bias by adding the modifier “combination” to the commonly used Ice Wall spell.

The suggestive power of a ‘verbalized modifier’ is far stronger than that of a modifier engraved unconsciously.

Kwoong!

A massive wall of ice rose up, towering between Dale and Sepia.

Ice Wall.

Elemental magic is profoundly influenced by surrounding climate and conditions. Even a novice’s cold magic, when cast in such a bitterly frozen wasteland, amplifies its power severalfold. Sepia certainly understood this principle.

A wall of ice, five meters high and wide, one meter thick. Considering the circumstances, it was a standard-sized Ice Wall, nothing particularly remarkable compared to an ordinary mage’s work.

‘Even so…’

Sepia was a high-ranking mage who had reached the sixth circle in the Water element. It wasn’t difficult for her to discern the principle hidden within Dale’s Ice Wall.

The density of the ice has become extremely high.

Molecular bonding.

By adding a formula that strengthens the attractive forces between ice molecules, we achieved a density several times greater than that of a standard ice wall. Without that formula, an unimaginably massive ice wall would likely have formed.

‘But why build an ice wall at all?’

As Sepia pondered this, tightening the reins of vigilance.

Crack, snap.

‘……!’

“Grenade.”

Cracks like a turtle’s shell appeared along the ice wall, and Dale chanted the 「Spell」 once more.

An incantation is ultimately the verbalization of an image—in other words, a process of self-suggestion to solidify a mental image.

Beyond the realm of personal consciousness, it is an archetype—a universal image shared by a people, a nation, a culture, and an era.

To become a magical incantation, it requires symbols and self-suggestive imagery that powerful. And at least in Dale’s original world, that phrase possessed ‘a very definite form of imagery’.

KAAANG!

The front of the ice wall shattered into pieces, exploding like a grenade. Countless ice fragments scattered and spread in all directions.

Shards bearing a deep blue edge. Ice Grenade.

‘……!’

Only then did Sepia realize why Dale had increased the ice wall’s density, gasping in horror.

‘Combination and fragmentation.’

When an ice explosion is triggered on an extremely compressed ice mass, its outer shell torn into fine shards to maximize fragmentation effects. Each scattered ice fragment would rival the blade of an assassin at the pinnacle of their craft.

This technique was only possible because Dale possessed the imagery of modern weaponry, specifically that of a grenade.

Probably no one else in this world could conjure such an image from the spell Dale invoked. Because no such tangible entity exists in this world that could be drawn out through such verbalization.

But for Dale, they existed. Weapons from another world, unimaginable to the people of this world, and their very image.

In the battle between hunters and beasts, the role of highly advanced modern weaponry was by no means insignificant. Furthermore, his military knowledge as the commander-in-chief of the Humanity’s Last Stand was utterly incomparable to that of a civilian.

There was no need to be a scientist. Magic was ultimately the embodiment of mental imagery, the power to turn imagination into reality.

And the mental images Dale manifested were landscapes beyond the imagination of the people of this world.

A hellish battlefield where guns, missiles, explosive powders, and every form of thermal weapon unleashed endless barrages. A scene of slaughter unknown to anyone in this world. The image conjured by Dale’s spell was precisely a fragment of that hellish battlefield.

Like blades sharpened by high-ranking assassins, they surged toward Sepia.

These blades were so small and fine that they were impossible to parry individually. They were literally grenades.

‘This is definitely not the work of a child.’

The destructive force was on a different level from when he had cast the Ice Explosion spell with the Mueongchang. Sepia’s expression twisted in horror at the scattering grenade shrapnel.

Ice blades began to tear Sepia’s flesh to shreds. Torn apart beyond recognition, her body was rendered indistinguishable.

“Teacher!”

Dale gasped, his heart sinking. Yet Sepia’s body, struck directly by Dale’s ice grenade, did not spatter blood or entrails.

Only traces of destruction remained, like a shattered, intricate ice sculpture. Only then did Dale realize.

‘An illusion!’

After realizing, he quietly turns his head.

“Dale.”

Sepia was now standing behind Dale, watching him with a cautious expression. Dale swallowed hard.

A single bloodline traced along Sepia’s snow-white cheek. A droplet of blood trickling down that very wound.

“That wound…”

“Were you afraid I might be dead?”

Sepia asked. And the weight of that question was anything but light.

“…I never meant to kill you, Teacher.”

Dale hesitated, then nodded. It was neither a lie born of goodwill nor pretense.

Yet what lay within his magic was the art of slaughter, dedicated entirely to slaughtering Sepia. Dale, too, was aware of that fact.

“You wielded water magic with remarkable skill. Having displayed such mastery, why are you so intimidated?”

Sepia once again mocked his own inexperience, offering a bitter smile.

“On the contrary, as your teacher, I’m truly delighted that you’ve cast your magic with such sincerity.”

Sepia continued. Taken aback by the unexpected words, Dale blinked in surprise.

“You revealed yourself honestly, without hiding your true self.”

With every ounce of strength, without the slightest reservation.

“Teacher…”

“What better proof could there be that you trust me more than that?”

I believe in you. Saying that, Sepia quietly embraced the young Dale.

“You are my most proud disciple.”

Sepia said, as if reassuring herself.

“…Really?”

“To have such an outstanding disciple, I am truly a fortunate teacher.”

“It’s all thanks to what you taught me, Teacher Sepia.”

Sepia nodded again. Only then did Dale finally smile. A smile fitting for someone his age.

A very bright one.

Sepia returned the same smile.

A mage wielding the dual attributes of Water and Darkness, standing on the brink of completing the second circle. Mastering not one, but two attributes demands not merely double the effort, but a square of it.

Yet Sepia realized: Dale’s true terror lay not in the speed of his achievements.

For magic is ultimately the embodiment of the mindscape, the power to overlay imagination onto reality.

Then what form would the complete image this child would unfold in this world take someday? And what landscape would ‘Dale’s world,’ which would be superimposed upon this world, possess? It was impossible to know. Sepia simply blessed her disciple’s growth.

Pushing aside the creeping sense of foreboding climbing up his spine.

That night, in the Saxon Duke’s office.

As usual, during the meeting to report Dale’s achievements, the Black Count gasped at the unexpected sight.

“Your Excellency, what happened to the wound on your cheek?”

A single gash ran across the elf mage’s cheek. The water magic of the Blue Mage Tower specialized in protecting one’s own body and disrupting opponents. And the fact that this very blue mage had been wounded held significance that was by no means small.

Even if it was but a trivial cut.

“Could it be the ‘Mountain Assassin’ (Hashishin)…”

The Mountain Assassin. As the Black Mage cautiously opened his mouth to speak, Sepia quietly shook her head.

“It was my own inexperience during the magical duel with Prince Dale.”

“……!”

Sepia gave a wry smile. “Dale.” At the name, an unmistakable flicker of unease rippled across the Black Duke’s expression.

“I sent a letter to the Blue Tower informing them that the Duke’s stay will likely be longer than planned.”

“I am indebted to you beyond words, Lady Sepia.”

“Obligation? Teaching a talented disciple is a pleasure for me as well.”

Sepia quietly smiled, recalling how Dale improved by leaps and bounds day by day.

“I am truly grateful for your kind words.”

The Black Duke continued in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Therefore, I must ask a favor of you, though I know it is quite presumptuous.”

“What is this request you speak of?”

“──Recently, we received intelligence that a group of orcs from the Demon King’s domain has begun crossing the White Mountains.”

Sepia quietly swallowed.

“The threat from the orcs themselves is not significant. It can likely be handled by mobilizing a small cavalry unit.”

“Then what is it?”

“That is precisely why I wish to have Dale participate in this battle.”

“But Lord Dale is still—”

“I am not asking Dale to perform ‘great feats’ on the battlefield.”

But the Duke of Saxony quietly interrupts her.

“It is the duty of House Saxony to subdue the monsters overrunning the domain and ensure its safety. As the eldest son who will bear the weight of the ducal house, Dale must surely understand that obligation.”

‘How utterly cruel.’

Yet Sepia could not bring herself to voice those words. A father’s love for his son would surely be no different for this man.

Nevertheless, this was the fate bestowed upon those who carried the bloodline of the duke’s house.

“So, what specifically do you require of me?”

“While I prepare for battle, I wish to pass on one of my artifacts to Dale, just in case.”

The artifact of the Black King. Grasping its significance, Sepia quietly swallowed.

“An artifact of darkness…”

“Please guide Dale so he can control that power, Lady Sepia.”

Without hesitation, Sepia nodded in response to the Black Duke’s request directed at her.