Make Dark Fantasy Great Again-Chapter 35: Why Not Two Masters?

Risir’s request for help in consuming an elixir was abrupt.

Despite his incredulity, Meltas felt considerably excited.

“Risir. Do you know the value of this elixir?”

“I believe it’s comparable to a large manor in a major city, roughly speaking.”

“Must you always convert everything to material value?”

“Not necessarily, but isn’t this easier to understand?”

“...In any case, you knew the value of this elixir and still asked me for help.”

“Ah, have I perhaps committed a discourtesy?”

“Discourtesy? Quite the opposite.”

Consuming an elixir was a matter of utmost importance for a mage. It was no exaggeration to say that one’s entire life hung in the balance. The monetary value of the item alone was enough to live comfortably for a lifetime.

And the effects gained from consuming such an elixir were equally life-changing. It could elevate a mage to a level that would normally take years to reach, or even open entirely new paths.

In other words, asking for assistance in consuming an elixir was tantamount to entrusting one’s life to another. It was impossible without the utmost trust.

“Aren’t we meeting for the first time? Yet you’ve made such a request of me. What if I harbored ill intentions towards your elixir?”

The title of ‘Master’ among the elite of the mage tower wasn’t earned by skill alone. It also required reputation and character. In Bondalles, it would be difficult to find someone more trustworthy than Meltas, so Risir’s judgment wasn’t entirely misplaced.

However, he wasn’t absolutely correct either—Risir’s elixir was a treasure that could tempt even the most trustworthy individuals. If Meltas were asked to recommend someone suitable to assist with elixir consumption, he couldn’t confidently name more than five people.

In that sense, Meltas was quite pleased that the lad placed such ultimate trust in him.

The old mage waited expectantly for Risir’s answer. Perhaps he would say something like, “I’ve long known of your reputation, Lord Meltas. If I had to choose one person in Bondalles to trust absolutely, it would be you.”

He could already picture Risir revering him as his disciple.

“I was confident that you wouldn’t harbor ill intentions, Sir Meltas.”

“Ahem-hem. And why is that?”

“You witnessed how a master of an assassin guild showed interest in me. I figured you’d be too intimidated to make any misguided judgments.”

“...”

Meltas was shocked. Contrary to his expectations, Risir’s judgment stemmed from cold, rational reasoning. It had nothing to do with respect, trust, or any such recognition!

He was unsure whether to elevate his evaluation of Risir or feel offended he was chosen for such a trivial reason.

“Additionally, I had a slight feeling that you wouldn’t betray your credibility over something like this.”

“I say...You’re very inept at flattery. If you had just polished that last bit, you could have made a much better impression.”

“Is that so? But wouldn’t it be odd to completely trust someone you’ve just met today?”

“Quite. Frankly, good impression aside, I would’ve thought the less of you for that. Turns out you’re a young man with surprisingly clear judgment. Very unexpected, considering that indecisive air about you.”

“Now if you’d just polished that last bit, you could have made a much better impression on me. I’m actually quite weak to compliments, you see.”

“Well I didn’t feel like uplifting your mood. You seemed quite excited to speak your mind.”

“Such a fruitful conversation. I can feel the deceit disappearing from our relationship, Sir Meltas, leaving only pure truth.”

“Where did this oddball come from?”

Meltas shook his head as he began preparing to assist with the elixir consumption.

***“Risir, we have a problem.”

“Oh please lord, you can tell me anything except that there’s something wrong with my elixir. I’m already prepared to start bawling.”

“It’s quite the opposite. This elixir...where on earth did you get it?”

“Sorry?”

When it comes to medicine and the like, it’s always better to know what you’re consuming.

Meltas had set out to analyze the elixir for more effective consumption, which was where the problem arose.

“I simply cannot fathom the components of this elixir and the magic contained within.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Well of course! Just imagine the level of precision and skillful craftsmanship it must have taken to make this possible. I can’t even begin to guess.”

Risir felt a sense of déjà vu. Come to think of it, he remembered having a similar conversation with his master, Pamon.

“An elixir like this isn’t something you can obtain simply by having a lot of money. I’m truly curious about its origin. It’s as if you’ve raided the vault of some high noble family.”

“Haha. Raiding a high noble family’s vault? That’s quite an exaggeration.”

Risir averted his gaze and changed the subject.

“So, what should I do? Should I just drink it? I’ve learned that it’s a man’s virtue to down a drink without question.”

“A man’s virtue? More like the recklessness of imbeciles. For your information, I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life. Alcohol is a poison that clouds the intellect.”

“But don’t unavoidable situations arise where you must drink to maintain smooth social relationships?”

“Be quiet. Anyway, I suppose we will require additional help for you to drink this elixir.”

“Ah, maybe from that Marina person you mentioned earlier?”

“What nonsense are you spouting? I’m a step ahead of Marina in knowledge of all fields. I’m only saying this because it’s not my area of expertise. Take this and follow me.”

Risir took the elixir and followed behind Meltas.

***Gloomy mages crowded together in a dark, cramped place...that was Risir’s previous impression of mage towers. But after taking a tour arund, Risir had to admit it was a prejudice.

The shape of the buildings was closer to ‘halls’ than ‘towers’, organically connected to each other.

The connecting passages had wide spaces between pillars, giving an open feel. The warm sunlight filtering through the pillars and the well-maintained gardens spread around added a layer of vitality to this openness.

“I thought a mage tower would be a bit gloomier.”

“That’s a common misconception. The mage tower symbolizes the lofty value of intellect and the high spirits of the students pursuing that value. So...”

Meltas fixed gleaming eyes on Risir.

“Are you starting to feel interested in mage towers?”

“Shall I tell you what I’ve felt after looking around this place?”

“Do tell.”

“Isn’t the tuition here expensive? I can almost hear the wailing of students coming from under these luxurious pillars.”

“Don’t talk about the mage tower as if it’s some necromancer’s lair. And don’t worry about tuition. There are scholarship and support systems in place.”

“So it’s a structure that exploits the majority except for a select few. Could I actually manage to fit in that minority?”

“Ahem. I think that’s enough talk of money. There’s nothing more meaningless than applying material standards to academic value.”

Risir, I will make you my disciple no matter what!

Meltas’ tearful efforts continued. As they moved, he diligently appealed to Risir about the strengths of the Gray Tower.

In the process, Meltas came to a startling realization.

Ah! He really doesn’t give a rat’s ass about academic value!

The long history and tradition of the Gray Tower. The meaning and value of belonging to such an institution. These were things that any mage would naturally be interested in.

Yet Risir showed no interest at all. The pride, rights, and duties of being a tower mage that Meltas spoke of were far removed from his interests.

The lad’s goal was to gain maximum benefit with minimum responsibility. It was a shallow and practical mindset of wanting to enjoy privileges without being bound to the tower.

In the end, Meltas had to give in.

“...By the way, joining the mage tower will open various paths for material gain.”

“That’s sudden...but my heart’s starting to race. Could I hear more details?”

“How did I end up like this...!”

Meltas lamented his situation, having to set aside his pride as a scholar to cater to Risir’s interests. But he was definitely worth the effort. At first, he was only interested in the lad’s ability, but the more they talked, the more interested he became in the latter as a person.

Risir’s (excessively) open mindset...Meltas thought it matched his unconventional power well. And once one part of him seemed admirable, it was only natural that everything else about him started to seem impressive as well.

At this point, he even regretted his initial dismissal of Risir as a bastard. If only he hadn’t started off on the wrong foot, couldn’t they have built a much better relationship? Meltas thought he should learn from Risir’s open-mindedness to some extent.

So his current actions could be seen as stemming from this reflection.

“Haah...In the mage tower, we have what’s called the Supporter System.”

“Supporter?”

“It’s a system that recognizes the rights of those who provide direct or indirect help to the tower’s mages. To use an expression you might like, it’s a system that allows you to enjoy the rights of being affiliated with the tower without the expensive tuition, grueling studies, or strict obligations.”

“What?!!! There’s such a progressive system?!”

“Is that really the meaning of progressive? Anyhow, it’s not as all-encompassing as you might think. The rights of Supporters are quite limited compared to affiliated mages.”

“Still, as a tower Supporter, I wouldn’t be dismissed as an illegitimate child elsewhere, right?”

“To some extent, yes. The name of a mage tower carries significant weight, after all.”

Meltas was starting to reach the main point. He took a pause before continuing.

“By the way, becoming an affiliated mage of the tower means you’ll be respected wherever you go. I guarantee it on my name.”

“Oh...”

“Which brings me to the point, Risir. Would you consider learning magic under me?”

“Learn as in, become your disciple and—”

“Yes! That’s exactly it!”

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

“FWOT?!!!”

Meltas froze dramatically in place, looking as if he’d been struck by lightning.

But soon, he applied the skill he had learned through his encounter with Risir—(excessively) open-minded thinking.

“Then I’m fine with being your second master.”

“Fwot?”

This time, it was Risir who froze like a man struck by lightning.

“Is that how master-disciple relationships work?”

“Why not? Learning is an endless journey. Placing limits is like locking yourself away in a cage.”

“That’s very wise and all but...If I may ask, do you have any plans to take an interest in black magic or necromancy in the near future? I feel the gleam in your eyes feels a bit too strong right now.”

“Well anyway, I’d like you to consider it seriously.”

“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind. By the way, how does this Supporter System work?”

“How can you immediately change the subject? Is ‘keep it in mind’ your way of saying ‘I’ll bury it in the back of my brain’?”

“Oh dear. Why are you being so clingy?”

“Tch. You stubborn rascal. Just you wait. I swear to make you my disciple.”

“Good grief.”

Risir felt dizzy.

I never thought the first person to go yandere over me would be an old man in dreadlocks...!

***The tower grounds were much larger than they appeared from the outside. This was the effect of a barrier.

After walking for quite a while, the two arrived at the Alchemy Wing, on the opposite side of the Magic Wing.

“Oh, Master Meltas.”

As they moved down a corridor, a group of chatting, giggling female students recognized Meltas and approached. They greeted Meltas respectfully before hastily excusing themselves.

Professors and students...It’s just like a school.

Risir mused to himself as he walked onward.

“Huh?”

Suddenly, his steps halted.

A woman had fallen where the female students had been gathered. Documents were scattered around her, each bearing footprints.

“Ahem. How embarrassing.”

Risir supposed even this scene of bullying seemed school-like.

Having shown an unsightly side of the tower, Meltas cleared his throat and quickened his pace, keen to leave the scene as swiftly as possible.

“Risir?”

But then he realized Risir was no longer by his side. The lad was crouched near the woman, picking up the documents.

It really doesn’t feel like a stranger’s problem.

He saw his past self overlapping with her.

“...”

Meltas looked at Risir as if he were some strange creature.

The bullied woman had distinctive inverted eyes, black sclera and white irises—she was a half-demon. It was why Meltas, though feeling pity for her, hadn’t thought to help.

By societal standards, the female students who had bullied the half-demon were considered the normal ones, while Risir was abnormal for willingly choosing to help.

As Risir gathered the scattered papers, the woman remained seated, motionless. She quietly watched him with her unique inverted eyes, as if observing a mysterious phenomenon unfold before her.

“Was that unnecessary of me?”

Risir handed over the stack of collected documents as he asked.

The woman shook her head.

“No. Thanks for helping.”

She expressed her gratitude with an emotionless expression and voice.

Risir nodded and offered her his hand.

“...”

After staring at Risir’s hand for a long while, she cautiously warned him.

“It’s dirty though.”

“Dirty?”

Demons were beings both blessed and cursed by mana. Half-demons, with their mixed heritage, inherited some of the demonic traits, and their stigma was a prime example.

The woman raised both hands to show him. Dark-red geometric patterns, like veins, stood out on her palms. Her arms, slightly visible through her rolled-up robe sleeves, were wrapped in dark arm warmers.

“I usually wear gloves, but they were taken away.”

She repeatedly clenched her hands. Even as she spoke of this unpleasant detail, her expression and voice remained emotionless.

Perhaps because of it, Risir found it relatively easy to interact with her.

“It’s fine. I’m a bastard myself.”

“?”

Eventually, the woman grasped Risir’s hand and stood up.

“Interesting.”

She awkwardly tugged at the corner of her mouth, as if trying to force emotion onto her expressionless face. Then she simply turned and started leaving.

Risir and Meltas also resumed walking.

“...”

“...”

“...”

And so, the three ended up walking side by side down the corridor.

“Ahem.”

Meltas broke the silence.

“Didoa. Is Master Tulan in her laboratory?”

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

“Oh darn.”

“?”

Belatedly, Risir shot a questioning look at Meltas.

Were they acquainted?

“She’s Master Tulan’s assistant.”

Meltas coughed dryly before trying to explain himself.

“You must know, if I were to show kindness to Didoa, it would only make things difficult for her.”

“Nobody said anything about that.”

“I just felt guilty, so take it as is.”

Didoa nodded from the side.

“Master Meltas is right. It’s a bit late to say this, but it’s better if you don’t get involved with me. The people in the tower definitely won’t think highly of it.”

Some time later, Risir and Meltas finally arrived at their destination. It was the office and laboratory of Tulan, one of the Gray Tower’s elite alchemists.

Didoa opened the door and led the two in. As she had said, Tulan was away.

She guided Risir and Meltas to the sofa in the center of the room, then retrieved cups from the cupboard and offered them to the two.

“No, I’m fine.”

“That’s wise of you. Any cup I touch would be dirty.”

“...On second thought, I am a bit thirsty. Please give me some tea.”

Didoa quickly prepared tea and set it in front of Risir and Meltas. Standing beside them, she fidgeted with her bare hands, as if unsure what to do with them.

“Ahem. Didoa, I don’t recall asking for tea.”

Meltas shot an uneasy sideway glance at Didoa’s hands.

“That works out well. I’m quite thirsty right now.”

“...No, it’s fine. I’ll just drink.”

After taking a reluctant sip of tea, Meltas threw a question.

“Didoa. When is Master Tulan expected to return?”

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“I’m guessing...she’ll be back closer to sunset.”

“...That’s quite a dilemma.”

“Was Master Tulan the one you mentioned could help, Sir Meltas?”

“Ah. Master Tulan is one of the most proficient alchemists within the Gray Tower.”

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

“Not necessarily. She was just the first alchemist that came to mind. Truthfully, any skilled alchemist should do.”

As he listened, Risir’s gaze turned to Didoa.

“From what I hear, Miss Didoa is Master Tulan’s assistant?”

“...Risir, surely you’re not...?”

“If she’s an assistant to the Tower’s most proficient alchemist, surely that alone guarantees her skills.”

“...Good heavens.”

Meltas nervously fiddled with his braided beard, trying to calm his anxiety. He was appalled that Risir would entrust such a precious elixir to a half-demon.

“So, Miss Didoa. Would you mind helping?”

“...”

Didoa turned her gaze outside the window.

***Today was meant to be Didoa’s pivotal moment—the day when years of preparation would finally bear fruit.

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

Yet, she put her plan aside.

Her decision spared the lives of Master Tulan and several other alchemists...at least for now.