I Became a Magical Genius After Regression - Chapter 43



Chapter 43

The clay tablet imbued with a spirit, taken from the lord’s storage.

With the administrator’s help, Randel now knew exactly how to use this clay tablet.

Although it was an artificially created being, it was still a spirit, and as soon as he saw the clay tablet, he recognized its identity.

There were two conditions.

[There should be no artificially processed mana in the body]

[There should be an affinity with nature]

If a person with these conditions broke this clay tablet, a contract with the lowest grade spirit would be established.

‘If I want to use this, I have to break the circle and give up all the mana I’ve accumulated so far…’

Of course, it wasn’t worth considering.

It wasn’t even a high-grade spirit, so what use would it be to contract with the lowest grade spirit now?

“Well, selling it is a bit…”

In the past, he might have considered selling it to create something like a merchant guild with the money.

But now, Randel was also rich.

One of the wealthiest in the kingdom.

Considering the mithril ingots in the subspace, it seemed unlikely that he would ever run out of money.

‘Let’s think about it a bit more.’

Randel concluded and put the spirit tablets back into the subspace.

Then he looked at the manager.

The manager had somehow escaped from the sphere and was now pressing his face against the window.

Following the trajectory of his large pupils, Randel saw the tail of a butterfly.

It was an ordinary scene for Randel, but the manager had lived in a dark underground since birth.

Even such a trivial scene seemed fascinating to him.

“Do you like it?”

―Yes, I like it.

“That’s a relief.”

Randel looked at the manager with satisfaction.

Then, something suddenly came to mind, and he opened his mouth.

“Come to think of it, I heard that spirits are given new names by their masters the moment they make a contract.”

―A name? Yes, that’s right.

“Considering our current situation, wouldn’t it be fair to say we’ve made a contract?”

―Is that so?

“Of course, of course. Spirits usually don’t hang around with humans unless they’re contracted.”

―That seems to be the case…

“Then should I give you a name?”

―No.

The manager refused without a second thought.

Randel, who had asked without much thought, felt quite aggrieved by the blunt answer.

“Why? Do you think I can’t come up with a good name?”

―Yes, because you’re ugly.

“No… How can you tell that from my face?”

―Because you’re ugly.

“……”

Randell couldn’t bring himself to argue.

Not just his appearance, but his speech and actions too, somehow made him seem like a child.

The pure-heartedness of such a child pierced through him, and even the brazen Randell couldn’t open his mouth.

The manager spoke to Randell.

―So. I’ll name it.

“What, you already had something in mind.”

―Yes.

“What is it?”

―Murior Glaciaris.

“Mu… what?”

―Too difficult? Then let’s shorten it. Mugle.

“Uh, hmm.”

It was a bizarre name, but if he liked it, who was Randell to object?

Randell couldn’t bring himself to deny it and just stared at the manager’s face.

Round and mysterious, he couldn’t tell what the manager was thinking.

But according to what he just said.

‘Doesn’t that mean he’s ugly for a spirit too?’

―Don’t.

“What, what?”

―Weird thoughts.

“No, I didn’t. It’s a misunderstanding.”

The manager stared at him intently, but Randell didn’t avoid his gaze.

However, he slightly averted his eyes at the end and said.

“Mugle sounds too weird. If we’re going to shorten it, how about Aris instead?”

―Aris? That’s good too.

The manager, no, Aris, nodded after a moment of contemplation.

Randell sighed secretly and said.

“Let’s just sleep. How do you sleep?”

―Spear, my home. Goodnight.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow. …Aris.”

―Yes. Randel?

“Why? Do you have something to say?”

―Turn off the light.

“…Alright.”

Randel fell asleep in the house he would soon leave.

With an intuition that the journey would be eventful.

* * *

The next morning.

Randel woke up a little later than usual.

He wanted to sleep more, but the fragmented sunlight piercing through the curtains tickled his face, making it impossible.

When he opened the window, a cool breeze of late autumn blew in.

“The sun… is already high.”

Randel used to wake up automatically at a certain time every morning.

It was a kind of mark left by a habit repeated for decades.

Contrary to what one might think, being a mercenary is a tough job if you’re not diligent.

Sleeping in and then going to the mercenary guild?

By then, all the good requests would have been taken.

The remaining requests would be one of two kinds.

Dirty or dangerous.

If you don’t want to pick only those kinds of requests, you have to start moving early in the morning. That’s the life of a mercenary.

‘Not to mention when carrying out requests.’

But today was an exception.

He woke up just before dusk, not realizing how much time had passed.

He had slept for a full 24 hours.

‘I did go through a lot.’

Thinking about it, it was only natural.

Exploring the wasteland, fighting a mid-level knight, being kidnapped to ruins, capturing a golem, evading soldiers…

Even a biological clock set over decades couldn’t keep up with such frantic activity.

So it was no wonder that he was completely exhausted.

“Yawn…”

Randell roughly washed his face and went down to the first floor.

It was already late afternoon. Given the time, his family would all be out.

Or so he thought.

On the first floor, there was a truly unexpected person.

“Miss, please try this.”

“Yes!”

Munch munch.

“Wow! It’s really delicious. I never imagined this simple wheat bread could taste so good.”

“We have yeast that has been passed down in our village for generations. It’s made from what we cultured for several days.”

“You’re amazing. I want to invite you to the castle.”

“Oh my, miss. Please have some milk too.”

The person chatting warmly with his mother was a girl in her late teens.

She had short hair like a boy, wore leather armor, and had a dagger at her waist.

There was only one woman like this in the territory.

Manwellin.

As Randell watched what was happening, his mother noticed him from the stairs and greeted him warmly.

“Oh, Randell. You’re up?”

“Yes, mom. I overslept a bit. But…”

“Randell!”

As soon as Manwellin saw Randell, she jumped up.

She lifted the two-handed sword that was standing next to the chair.

The sudden movement startled both Randell and his mother, but Manwellin hurriedly spoke, seemingly unaware.

“You were right!”

“About what?”

“The two-handed sword, the two-handed sword!”

“Oh, you tried it?”

From noble mtl dot com

“Yes! I just picked it up to see, and it fits perfectly in my hand. Wow! Can you believe it?”

“Well, why not? Did you come here just to tell me that?”

Manwellin, feeling frustrated with Randel’s indifferent attitude, pounded his chest and said,

“No! This is such a big deal, why are you reacting like this!”

“Because I’m a wizard.”

“Oh…”

Manwellin quickly understood and realized his own foolishness, then sat down.

Clearing his throat, he said,

“Anyway, thanks. I’ve been wielding a sword for over 10 years, and I didn’t know that…”

“Knights usually use one-handed swords. But 10 years ago… weren’t you 8 years old?”

“Yes. To become an excellent knight, it’s natural to train from a young age.”

Randel clicked his tongue inwardly.

‘What was I doing when I was 8? I think I was playing in the dirt with other kids in front of my house.’

But he also realized something.

‘This is why nobles rule the world.’

Whether it’s magic or swordsmanship, it’s best to start from a young age.

Because that’s when the mind is most malleable.

But teaching a child isn’t something that can be done just because you have a bit of money.

Mana initiation methods, mana circuit training, swordsmanship, the magic of each circle and how to use it…

These kinds of knowledge and systematic transmission methods can’t be bought with money.

Only through long years and proven knowledge.

That’s why they’re nobles, and that’s why they’re prestigious families.

That’s why once a noble, always a noble.

While Randel was mulling over the bitter aspects of the world,

Manwellin, a bit hesitant, said,

“If you have time, could you watch my two-handed sword training? Maybe you’ll see something in my form again.”

“Later. I have someone to meet.”

“Who? Sir Capus the wizard?”

“No, someone you don’t know, Sir Manwellin.”

“A close friend I don’t know? You’ve only been staying in this castle for a few days.”

“I used to come here to sell herbs before living here. And I’m quite sociable.”

“……”

At those words, Manwellin’s gaze sharpened. It was as if she was saying, “There’s no way you could be like that.”

Randell was flustered.

“No, why?”

He looked at his mother, hoping she would say something, but she awkwardly averted her gaze.

“…I admit it. I have a bit of a difficult personality, so it’s hard for me to make friends, but I do have some.”

Knock, knock.

Just then, there was a timely knock on the door.

It was the person who was supposed to guide Randell.

“This is Butler Sullivan. I’ve come to escort Mr. Randell.”

“Yes, Butler. Just a moment.”

Randell picked up a piece of bread from the table, threw on his robe, and got ready to leave.

Then, Manwellin quietly followed him.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Why, Sir Manwellin?”

“Why? Am I not allowed to follow you?”

“No, it’s just that you seem like you need some rest.”

Dark circles were visible under Manwellin’s eyes.

Knights who had awakened their mana, those above mana users, all possessed monstrous stamina.

They could go on all day.

But for her to be in such bad condition…

‘She must have been excited to train all night after getting her hands on a two-handed sword.’

However, Manwellin shook her head.

“I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“Well, if you say so…”

What could a commoner say to the lord’s eldest daughter?

Moreover, he felt a pang of sympathy.

Manwellin was such a training fanatic.

If only her mana circuits hadn’t been damaged when the territory was attacked, she would have become a great knight.

‘At least she wouldn’t be wandering around as a mercenary.’

Lost in thought for a moment, Randell was urged by Manwellin.

“What are you doing? Let’s go quickly.”

“Yes, let’s go.”

Randell and Manwellin followed the butler out of the house.

* * *

Words from his father that Walton once heard.

―Even if life betrays you.

―Do not be angry or sad.

―Everyone gets three chances of luck.

Walton, born in a small fishing village in the south, was poor but grew up happily under loving parents.

But one day, a plague swept through the village, and all his family passed away.

Still, Walton was not too sad.

Because that’s how life is.

It goes around and comes back to its place.

Walton, now an orphan, wandered aimlessly across the continent.

Then, when he drifted to the far north.

He met his destiny.

―Please have some of this.

Walton, a laborer repairing the castle wall, fell in love at first sight with the bread given by the innkeeper’s daughter.

After a short romance, they got married and, though they had nothing, lived a happy life.

His wife’s cooking skills were excellent, and the restaurant they opened prospered, and their laughter increased with the birth of their daughter.

But misfortune also came.

The wife he loved so much.

She closed her eyes after suffering from a high fever after giving birth to their daughter.

Still, it was okay.

Because he had the daughter his wife left behind.

Even if life betrays him, he would not be angry.

But when he heard that his daughter had an incurable disease.

Even the optimistic Walton could not endure it.

―It’s Ludrick. It’s a terrible disease that stiffens the whole body.

―Is there no cure?

―But… you came too late.

However, if he collapsed, his daughter would be finished.

First, the valuables.

Then, the furniture like the dining table.

Finally, he had to sell the house and go into debt to stop the progression of the disease.

But the treatment was too late.

His daughter, whose muscles had stiffened, could barely walk on her own.

She would just stare out the small window of their wooden house all day long.

Moreover, the debt was a problem.

He worked himself to the bone with manual labor, but he could barely pay the interest, so the principal showed no sign of decreasing.

Then, his second stroke of luck came.

―Mister, this is an artifact.

―An artifact!

He thought it was a chance to turn his life around.

But Walton had forgotten.

Opportunities are only seized by those with power.

The price for forgetting that was harsh.

―Hey, old man. I saw you meeting with a wizard earlier…?

―N-nothing happened.

―Do you think I’m a fool like your daughter?

In the end, even the artifact was taken away.

But then, a wizard he met again not only saved him but also gave him money to pay off his debt.

Walton thought this was his third stroke of luck.

Perhaps there would be no more luck in his life.

As his father said, having luck come three times in one’s life is a lot.

―If I have one wish…

That my daughter could get better.

That she could walk again like before.

That she could live on her own even if I die.

But it wasn’t so.

It seems there is a fourth stroke of luck in the world.

―What? The lord?

One day, a healer came with the soldiers.

The healer, who had come from a neighboring territory, made medicine and gave a potion to treat my daughter.

Then my daughter was able to walk, even if just a little.

I don’t know how much I cried then.

But the luck didn’t end there.

―What? The lord is giving us a house?

And even providing living expenses, I was grateful but also scared.

I asked the soldiers why they were doing this, but the answer was ambiguous.

―Do you know someone named Randell?

―Randell…? It’s the first time I’ve heard that name.

―He asked the lord to do this. That’s all I know.

Walton was puzzled.

Could he be a distant relative? Or someone my wife knows?

No matter how much I searched my memory, no one came to mind.

But today.

From afar, a small figure in a black robe approached.

Seeing the small-statured wizard, all my questions were answered.

“Ma, Magician!”

Walton ran out, crying without realizing it.