The Problematic Child of the Magic Tower-Chapter 305

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Chapter 305: Forest of Spirits (2)

“A spirit mage?”

Fran tilted his head and looked at Oscar without a shred of hesitation.

The look clearly said I have no idea what that is, so explain it already.

“…You really treat people like encyclopedias.”

“So you do know?”

“Tsk.”

Oscar clicked his tongue lightly.

“I do. It’s exactly what it sounds like. Someone who uses spirits and magic at the same time.”

“That’s even possible?”

“No reason it wouldn’t be. There were actually quite a lot of spirit mages in the past.”

“Seriously?”

Raised in a merchant family and having picked up all kinds of knowledge, Fran blinked in surprise.

“Then why does it feel like I’m hearing about this for the first time?”

“That’s only natural. When I say ‘the past,’ I mean several hundred years ago.”

Oscar shrugged and continued.

“Spirit mages were one of the professions that disappeared as the Magic Tower rose to power.”

“Huh? What does a profession disappearing have to do with the Magic Tower?”

“When the Magic Tower emerged, magic finally became established as an academic discipline.”

Knowledge that had previously been passed down only within families or to a single disciple was made public.

As a result, magic rapidly became systematized and advanced at an explosive pace.

“Spirit mages originally had two major strengths. Want to guess what they were?”

“Uh… one is outsourcing mana calculations, right? Like what I’m doing now.”

“Correct.”

Even now, when Fran used Wind Sovereign, he dumped all the complicated mana calculations onto the spirits.

That was one of the greatest advantages of a spirit mage.

“And the other one?”

“No idea.”

“The ability to use magic that couldn’t be ‘constructed.’”

“Unconstructable magic? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kids these days.

Oscar chuckled.

“The history of magic is long if you stretch it, short if you don’t. How long do you think it’s been since mages could reproduce the phenomena they wanted with near-perfect accuracy?”

“Uh… maybe a thousand years?”

“Less than two hundred.”

Oscar gathered mana.

A blade of wind formed instantly in his palm.

“Records say humanity shaped wind into a blade over a thousand years ago. Primitive, intuitive magic like this came first. The more closely a spell imitates something that already exists, the earlier it was developed.”

The wind blade scattered, and Oscar’s body lightly lifted into the air.

“Then when do you think flight magic was developed?”

“…Five hundred years ago?”

“Close. The first formula was developed 428 years ago, and after 1,428 refinements over 151 years, the flight magic we use today was completed.”

The Magic Tower conducted endless research, experimentation, and refinement.

Even so, magic that defied physical laws was only perfected relatively recently.

“In short, until then, magic simply couldn’t match the efficiency of spirits. Spirit users were flying through the sky over a thousand years ago.”

“I guess that makes sense. If you just ask spirits to do it, you can do things magic couldn’t even dream of.”

“Exactly. That’s why professions that combined magic and spirits became popular—to compensate for magic’s shortcomings.”

Fran nodded, finally understanding.

“So that’s why they disappeared after magic advanced. The number of things only spirits could do kept shrinking.”

“Precisely.”

The Magic Tower researched all magic, constantly refining it to achieve maximum efficiency with minimal mana.

Which led to an obvious question.

“In this era, what advantage does a pure spirit mage even have?”

If anything, the drawbacks stood out more.

Spirits fundamentally consumed mental strength, not mana.

In the past, that cost was worth it—but now?

Oscar folded his arms, skeptical.

‘Using spirits purely as components for mana calculations is probably optimal.’

Silestin might object if he heard that, but that was Oscar’s honest opinion.

At that moment, the silent Silestin spoke cautiously.

—…In the past, human mages were rather unimpressive. But the humans of this era truly wield magic well.

“Exactly. Unless you contract a high-ranking spirit, becoming a mid-tier mage is usually better.”

—Agreed. That’s why I wouldn’t recommend a high spirit contract to an ordinary mage. But—

Silestin pointed at Fran.

—If the subject is that human, the story changes.

“Why Fran?”

—I heard the children say he possesses a peculiar power—one that turns him into wind. Is that true?

“Yes. Absurdly rare.”

—Then let me ask you this, human. Have you ever thought about what it means to become wind?

…Meaning?

Oscar looked at Fran.

Their gazes met in midair.

“Oscar, what is he talking about?”

“…You’re the one with the ability. Shouldn’t you explain?”

“I don’t know either, that’s why I’m asking.”

When both of them turned to Silestin, he answered calmly.

—Seeing once is better than a hundred explanations. Human, show me that power.

“That’s not hard, but…”

Fran activated Wind Sovereign, and his body instantly became wind.

Silestin observed him carefully, then nodded.

—That will do.

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“So what were you trying to confirm?”

—What kind of being he becomes the moment he uses that power.

“What kind of being—wait.”

Oscar suddenly felt it.

“Don’t tell me… when he becomes wind, he temporarily becomes something like a spirit?”

—Not a perfect match. But proportionally speaking, he becomes closer to a spirit than to a human.

“……”

So that was what becoming wind meant.

‘How did I never realize this before?’

Thinking about it, it was obvious.

If he literally turns into wind, of course he’s closer to a spirit than a human.

That ability itself could practically be called spiritization.

‘If that’s true…’

Oscar sank into deep thought.

“This means that while Fran is spiritized, he could draw power from the Spirit Realm.”

—Your understanding is quick. That’s exactly my point.

Silestin nodded firmly.

—If he becomes similar to a spirit, drawing power from the Spirit Realm isn’t unreasonable. However, becoming wind alone doesn’t open the gate to the Spirit Realm.

“……So what’s needed to open that gate is a high-ranking spirit.”

—Correct.

By contracting a high-ranking spirit and summoning it, a pathway to the Spirit Realm naturally opens.

If Fran then enters spiritization, he could draw power directly from that realm.

—Until his mental strength runs out, he would be able to use virtually limitless mana.

That was it.

“Fran. Do it.”

“Huh?”

“Contract a high-ranking spirit. This is non-negotiable.”

“…Is it really that big of a deal?”

Oscar stared at him, exasperated.

“Are you kidding me? Throughout all of human history, no one has ever possessed near-infinite mana. That alone is an absurd privilege.”

“But if my mental strength runs out, the connection breaks anyway. Isn’t that basically the same as my current mana limit?”

“Ugh.”

—Ugh.

Human and spirit sighed in unison.

“Okay, I get that I’m misunderstanding something. So what am I missing?”

“Listen carefully. The mental strength consumed here isn’t for output—it’s for maintaining the connection.”

“…Still lost.”

“Fine. Simple version.”

Oscar spread five fingers.

“Let’s say there’s a spell that costs five units of mana. How much mana does a normal mage spend?”

“Five.”

“Right. Then what about you?”

“Well… mana’s infinite, so—ah!”

Fran’s eyes lit up.

“Oh! Since the mental cost is roughly the same regardless of spell rank, it’s always a net gain!”

“Exactly.”

One unit of mental strength could pull a hundred or two hundred units of mana at will.

Oscar gripped Fran’s shoulders.

“If you succeed in contracting a high-ranking spirit, you could become a strategic weapon of the White Tower.”

The duration wouldn’t be long—maybe three minutes at best.

‘Even now, he can’t maintain Wind Sovereign for very long.’

And a contracted spirit would also consume mental strength on its own.

But for those few minutes, Fran’s output would rival—or surpass—a level 7 mage.

‘And there’s more.’

The reason Fran was stuck at level 5 was the low-ranking spirits occupying space that mana circuits should have held.

“If you contract a higher-grade wind spirit, that problem solves itself, right?”

—It should. A superior entity could handle all calculations alone.

Oscar grinned.

“I’m looking forward to what a level 7 Fran could unleash.”

“Everything sounds great, but…”

Tap, tap.

Oscar patted Fran’s shoulder.

“This all depends on whether you can actually contract a high-ranking spirit.”

“Y-you’re smiling like a villain.”

“You will contract one. Absolutely.”

Fran swallowed.

Then Silestin spoke gently.

—For now, it would be difficult.

“What? Why!?”

—Your affinity has increased significantly, but at present, a mid-ranking spirit is your limit.

“Mid-ranking is… a bit disappointing.”

—And higher spirits possess strong egos. Once you contract one, it’s hard to undo. You should raise your affinity further first.

Oscar asked casually.

“Can’t you just contract with him yourself?”

—Judging by that suggestion, it’s time for me to leave.

With a snort, Silestin dissolved into wind.

Oscar turned to Fran.

“Go pack and wait in your room.”

“…Pack for what?”

“Didn’t you hear? To raise spirit affinity, the best place is where spirits gather.”

“…The Forest of Spirits?”

Fran’s face went pale.

“T-that place is a forbidden zone designated by the Imperial Family!”

“I know. It’s fine.”

A vast southwestern forest ruled by elves who had severed ties with humanity.

That was the Forest of Spirits.

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