Translator: Pai_

Turan blinked several times, but the text written before him didn’t change.

Keorn, that familiar name…

He wondered if it might just be someone with the same name, but upon reading the details below, it mentioned a play set against the backdrop of the Arabion-Zahar War from 20 years ago.

It was specifically a story about the heroic exploits of the most valiant knight of Arabion, Keorn.

Ashiz, noticing Turan’s gaze fixed on the flyer, spoke up.

“It’s a pretty decent play. Though it was made by main family to propagate the idea that we won the war. Wanna watch it?”

“I want to, but… maybe you’ve already seen it, so you’re not interested?”

“Hm? Nah, I don’t mind watching it one more time. Hey, when does it start?”

“It starts in fifteen minutes!”

Shortly afterward, Turan and Ashiz found themselves seated in the best two seats in the theater.

Of course, those seats originally belonged to someone else, but when you pay ten times the ticket price, suddenly, even unavailable seats become available.

Not long after they took their seats, the play began.

[The time is the year 2195, beginning with the Arabion warriors venturing into the demons’ desert-]

A booming, resonant voice filled the theater as a few actors, neatly dressed, stepped onto the stage.

Having visited the desert for regular trade, the warriors got into an argument with Zahar’s knights, who guarded the desert, and soon, a fight broke out.

Before long, the knights’ quarrel escalated into a conflict between nobles, and finally, it grew into a war led by the two houses.

Later, the heads of the two houses came out to duel. As the actors playing the heads mimicked attacking each other with magic, screams erupted among the audience.

Of course, the magic they used was only flashy enough to create the illusion of danger, incapable of actually harming each other.

[With storms by day, death by night, the war dragged on and casualties increased, amidst which there was a knight by the name of Keorn.]

With this background set, the actor playing Keorn made his appearance.

The muscular man with piercing eyes was vastly different from the gentle old knight Turan remembered.

However, this appearance suited the Keorn depicted in the play far better.

He was a warrior who charged first into battle and was the last to retreat, earning the respect of even nobles with his wealth of experience and magic skills.

Although, in the grand chaos where dozens of nobles and thousands of knights clashed, Keorn’s individual role wasn’t particularly large, he was revered as a knight among knights.

Then, on the fateful day, Keorn faced a Zahar noble without any noble to back him up.

His opponent mocked him for being a measly knight compared to them.

But Keorn, drawing upon every ounce of fortune described as divine intervention, the keepsakes of his fallen comrades, his courage, and his wisdom, managed to defeat his foe after a hard-fought battle.

The shocking fact that a noble born of a great bloodline had been killed in a duel with a mere knight spread rapidly. The two houses were thrown into elation and despair, respectively, and at last, the grueling two-year war came to an end-

As the narrator’s voice concluded and the curtain fell, the thunderous applause of the audience resounded throughout the theater.

“How was it? Worth watching?”

"Hm? Ah, it was... really good."

Turan answered Ashiz's question in a somewhat dazed state.

The first thought that came to his mind was what Keorn had said.

Hadn’t he mentioned that he wasn’t an exceptionally talented knight who had achieved great deeds?

Honestly, there couldn’t have been a more modest remark than that.

Turan recalled his encounter with Keorn on Hisaril Hill, where they had tested their strength against each other.

At that time, Keorn’s magic power was about one-tenth of Turan’s.

And considering that Turan had only absorbed magic power once as a young noble at the time, it was clear that most nobles were tens of times stronger than Keorn.

This was indeed an achievement worthy of being immortalized in a play.

If it were all true, that is.

“That play from earlier, was it based on a true story?”

“Probably? It’s a famous tale, but it happened when I was a kid, so I don’t know all the details.”

Even though it was twenty years ago, Ashiz, who was at least twenty-three years old back then and older than Turan was now, spoke as if recalling events from his infancy, which made Turan chuckle.

“It’s shocking that a knight killed a noble, but does that really justify the war coming to an end?”

“Well, I heard that the war was already nearing its end by then. Hundreds of knights and over twenty nobles from both sides had already died, and even the heads of the two houses had been injured in duels.”

Ashiz explained that in such a situation, when Keorn killed a noble and Arabion heavily publicized it, Zahar proposed peace, believing they had no chance if more knights like Keorn existed, thus bringing the war to an end.

‘That’s a bit different from what I know.’

According to what Turan had heard from Keorn, the war between the two houses had ended in Zahar’s favor.

There must be more to the story than what was being told here.

Perhaps, since this region was under Arabion’s control, the narrative had been adjusted to favor their side.

In any case, Turan made a mental note that if he ever met Keorn again, he’d ask whether this story was true.

* * *

After watching Hero Keorn, Turan and Ashiz stayed to watch three more plays, and before they knew it, the sun was setting.

Turan no longer thought of actors as clown-like performers who simply entertained audiences.

They were artists.

Just as a painter paints with a brush, or a writer writes with a quill, actors used words and actions to bring historical figures from the unseen past back to life.

Seeing Turan completely captivated by the plays, Ashiz joyfully shared stories of the countless plays he’d seen over the decades, trying to pull Turan deeper into that world.

As they chatted and returned to the estate, they saw a bolt of lightning flash in the distance with a thunderous Kwarung.

The crimson sky of the setting sun was clear, with not even a single cloud in sight, let alone rain.

Despite the strange sight, Ashiz’s expression remained utterly calm.

“Looks like Meisa is practicing magic again. She’s always so diligent.”

“That’s Arabion’s bloodline magic, right?”

“Yeah. The Storm Bloodline. I’ve never resented my lineage, but… I do feel a bit jealous about that. It’s like being a real god, isn’t it?”

Just as the Enchanters worshiped The Lame Goddess as their ancestor, the Arabion family claimed descent from the Thunder Lord among the Preah God Tribe.

Indeed, their bloodline ability to manipulate wind and lightning was renowned for its powerful offensive capabilities and versatility.

Not only was it incredibly destructive, but it was also said to be the reason for the prosperity of this region.

At the end of each harvest season, Arabion nobles would fly over the barren Takein Plains and rain down countless lightning bolts. Strangely enough, this process somehow prevented the soil’s fertility from depleting and ensured the land’s abundance for the following year.

'I'm curious.'

What would be the level of skill of this genius magician Asiz spoke of, who had talent equal to his, and the next ruler of Arabion, truly was.

He was curious enough to want to see it for himself, but he knew that sneaking a peek could easily earn him accusations of being an assassin.

And after all, wasn’t she already who had fled to this place due to threats of assassination?

“Wanna go take a look?”

“I’m curious, but… a suspicious outsider like me approaching wouldn’t be a good idea.”

At Turan’s words, Ashiz shook his head with a laugh.

“Oh, come on! You’re not an assassin or anything. I can vouch for you! Honestly, I’m curious too, about who’s more skilled, you or Meisa.”

“Isn’t that the real reason you want to bring me along?”

“To be honest, I’ve had a bit of a grudge ever since we trained together a few years ago. I kinda want to see her get discouraged for once.”

Ashiz’s childish motive nearly made Turan burst out in laughter.

“But with my level of magic power, I wouldn’t stand a chance against her.”

Even with a generous assessment, Turan’s current magic power was average at best among wizards from great noble houses. It was comparable to, or perhaps slightly weaker than, the head of a remote fringe house like Baltas.

In contrast, Meisa was said to possess power on par with the core members of the Arabion family.

“Wow, so what you’re saying is, if it weren’t for the magic power difference, you could win? That’s some serious confidence.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

By the time the two of them arrived at the garden inside the Berg estate, the once neatly maintained garden had already been devastated by a storm of lightning strikes.

The eerie landscape, illuminated brightly by magic lamps scattered around, made the destruction appear even more striking. In the midst of it all, the skeletal-looking young lady he had seen the day before turned her gaze toward them.

“Hey, Meisa!”

“Ashiz? And the person next to you is…?”

“Turan. miss.”

“Ah, that’s right. Turan. That was the name. So, what brings the two of you here all of a sudden?”

Surprisingly, despite nearly being assassinated before, Meisa didn’t seem particularly suspicious of Turan’s presence.

Her question made Ashiz look slightly guilty as he averted his gaze and scratched his head.

“Well, you looked like you were practicing magic, so we thought we’d join you. You know, like in the old days.”

“Oh… I remember. That time when I managed to do something in two tries that you spent an entire week struggling with, and you ran off crying.”

“Hey.”

The way the two of them bickered looked less like a noble heir and a retainer from a vassal family and more like an ordinary pair of bickering cousins.

It reminded Turan of Izela and Marvin from the Baltas family, though with a much brighter and less oppressive atmosphere.

Unable to hold back a small laugh, Turan chuckled, which made Ashiz glare at him.

“Excuse me.”

“You’re laughing at me too? Anyway, this guy Turan here is one of the most talented people I’ve ever seen in magic. How about having a little match with him?”

“A match?”

At Ashiz’s suggestion, Meisa tilted her head, then let out a surge of magic aura.

“Ugh.”

Turan involuntarily gasped at the overwhelming pressure that washed over him.

Three times, five times, perhaps even more…

The sheer torrent of violent power lying dormant in that frail-looking young woman’s body was something he couldn’t possibly contend with using his current strength.

So, this was the might of an heir to a great noble house.

After a moment, Meisa withdrew her aura, her face now devoid of interest.

“Sorry, but I don’t think a match with me would be fair.”

“Well, of course, your magic power is leagues beyond his. What I’m saying is, this guy’s true strength lies in his ability to learn magic.”

Ashiz boasted that Turan was a magic prodigy, the likes of which he had never seen before, and claimed that even Meisa couldn’t match that level of talent.

At this, a faint glimmer of interest returned to Meisa’s face.

“Is that so?”

Turan considered humbling himself by claiming that Ashiz was exaggerating, but he held his tongue. If he acted modestly now, she would just dismiss it as expected and end the conversation.

He, too, was curious to experience the skill of this noble heir firsthand.

“How about we each show a magic spell that the other doesn’t know, and whoever succeeds first wins?”

“That’s a reasonable method. What do you think, Meisa?”

“Sounds good. I heard that you don’t even know what your bloodline magic is, Turan. And, of course, it wouldn’t be fair for me to use wind or lightning magic. Let’s exclude those.”

As she spoke, Meisa tilted her head slightly before casually stomping her foot on the ground.

Turan thought she might cast a spell that made spikes emerge from the earth, something he had tried before, but instead-

“Wow.”

Shrrrrk! Ashiz let out a bizarre exclamation as vines sprouted from the ground.

The vines didn’t just grow from the ground, they began to move on their own, wrapping around Ashiz’s arms, torso, and legs. They lifted him into the air and swung him around wildly.

“Waaaaah-!”

“Plant creation and manipulation magic. Think you can do it?”

"Let-me-go-already-!"

“Just hang in there for a bit. This is entertaining.”

While Ashiz flailed about, being flung around in midair by the vines, Turan quietly reflected on what he had just witnessed.

Creating vines from the ground, it couldn’t actually be creation.

According to the natural laws he’d studied, even with magic, creating matter from nothing was impossible.

Fire magic, for instance, didn’t actually create fire, it manifested the phenomenon of combustion. Similarly, water magic drew invisible moisture from the air.

In the same way, those vines must have already existed as seeds buried in the soil, which Meisa had rapidly grown using her magic.

Understanding that it was 'growth' rather than 'creation'.

Whether one knew this principle or not was an extremely important factor in using magic.

Recognizing the principle behind it was an essential element of effective magic usage.

"Grow."

Since it wasn't a familiar magic, Turan placed his hand on the ground while softly chanting the spell.

A moment later, a few thin, feeble vines sprouted from the ground, much weaker and less impressive than Meisa’s.

Turan then manipulated the vines so they wrapped around his right hand.

“Oh…”

Though the result was pitiful compared to Meisa’s display of power, both she and Ashiz let out exclamations of amazement.

They understood just how difficult it was to imitate a completely unfamiliar spell after seeing it just once, even in such an imperfect form.

Of course, Turan had assumed there were still vine seeds buried in the ground, which minimized the loss of magic power in his attempt.

“You said ‘grow,’ which means you immediately figured out the nature of this spell. Have you seen it somewhere before?”

“It’s my first time.”

“There’s actually a day when Ashiz is right, huh.”

Meisa’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him. Though her sunken eye sockets and protruding eyeballs gave her a grotesque appearance, her sense of curiosity and anticipation was evident.

“Well then, it’s your turn to give me a problem. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Faced with Meisa’s challenging expression, Turan pondered what kind of spell he should demonstrate.

If he was going to do this, he wanted to use something so difficult that it would be almost impossible for her to replicate. But nothing came to mind right away.

Using Zahar bloodline magic was not only against the rules but would essentially be a suicidal act...

At that moment, Turan spotted a rat scurrying quickly through the ruins of the garden.

With a slight gesture, he beckoned the rat toward him. Meisa, observing this, asked in a slightly disappointed tone,

“Animal manipulation?”

“Of course not. This little guy is merely a component.”

Turan casually grasped the rat by the neck and began to cast a spell.

It was a magic that granted power to the countless microorganisms inside the creature, lifeforms that existed but were imperceptible to most.

A moment later, the rat began to decay while still alive, right there in his hand.

“It’s done.”

The challenge Turan presented was a spell called Decay, which he had learned through the natural laws taught by the librarian at the Sky Library.