Translator: Pai_

"I'm sorry, I heard you were confined in the temple because of me?"

This was the first thing Turan heard when he visited Meisa's room.

Faced with this noble lady's apology, he hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond, before offering the most neutral reply he could think of.

"It was necessary. More importantly, I'm glad you're safe."

If he were to say something like, 'I'm sorry for making you do something unreasonable,' it would sound like he was mocking her, essentially implying 'I could do it, but you couldn't.'

Meisa, perhaps realizing the intent behind his carefully calculated response, suddenly exclaimed as if recalling something she had forgotten.

"Oh! Come to think of it, that magic that makes animals decay, could it be some kind of undiscovered bloodline magic? The magic power consumption was outrageous."

"No, it's not. Once you understand the principle, miss, you'll be able to use it just fine as well."

As they continued their conversation, Turan's keen sense of smell picked up on an unfamiliar scent.

Something slightly spoiled yet savory, mixed with a sour stench...

'Did she vomit?'

It was the kind of smell one might encounter when butchering an animal and accidentally slicing open its stomach. Faint traces of that smell wafted from Meisa's mouth.

He had heard that she wasn't eating, so why...?

Turan started to say something but quickly realized that his comment would be inappropriate in many ways, so he kept his mouth shut.

Given that the smell was only faintly perceptible even to his sharp sense of smell, it must have been thoroughly cleaned up. If he were to mention it, it might lead to suspicions that his bloodline was specifically specialized in such detection.

As he was lost in thought, Meisa, misinterpreting Turan's sudden silence as reluctance to reveal the principle behind the magic, chuckled and probed him further.

"So, you're saying you won't tell me for free. But if you don't explain how it works, how can you prove that it's not bloodline magic?"

"I don't particularly care whether I win or not."

For a moment, the two locked eyes in silence.

The one to yield first was Meisa.

"This feels unsatisfying to end like this. If you reveal the secret of that magic, I'll share one of Arabion's secrets with you. Fair, right?"

"Alright. Then-"

Turan explained the existence of microscopic organisms that couldn't be seen with the naked eye and how their activity, consuming larger organisms, was the process of decay.

He went on to explain that the principle of the magic was to empower these tiny organisms and accelerate the decay process.

Even with just that explanation, Meisa seemed to grasp the magic's principle, exclaiming, "Ah!" in understanding.

"So... fundamentally, it's a type of biological enhancement magic?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. Using it without knowing that is why the efficiency was so terrible. Hey, could you bring me a rat?"

At Meisa's request, the maid, who had been standing respectfully in the background, responded with a startled expression.

"A r-rat...?"

"Yes. In a house this big, there must be at least one living somewhere."

Not long after, Meisa placed a rat, now decayed and crumbling, on the table and nodded in satisfaction.

The maid who had brought the rat looked as though she might vomit at any moment, but neither Turan nor Meisa paid her the slightest attention.

"In that case, I guess I lost the contest. Even though I succeeded in the end, it was only by brute-forcing my way through with power."

"I considered that part of the contest as well."

"That's not right. When discussing proficiency in magic, we don't usually count the amount of magic power available, do we?"

Having said this, Meisa suddenly looked slightly embarrassed and spoke.

"Um, could you call it a tie with Ashiz? I don't want to see that guy acting all cocky."

"Understood."

"In that case, I need to fulfill my end of the bargain. Now, let's see... this should do."

Meisa picked up a comb from beside her, brushed her long hair a few times, then held it up to show how the strands clung to the comb.

"As you can see, when objects rub against each other like this, they create a force that pulls them together. This is-"

"Static electricity."

Meisa's eyes widened in surprise at Turan's response.

"…You already knew?"

"Yes."

While studying the principle of lightning striking from clouds in the library, he had also come across such knowledge.

Lightning occurs due to the interaction between positive and negative charges, or so the explanation went. However, it was too complex for Turan to fully grasp. At the very least, he understood that lightning originated from the force of electricity and that similar phenomena could be created, albeit on a smaller scale, through friction.

To demonstrate, Turan rubbed his fingers together a few times and produced a small spark of electricity with a faint crackle.

By applying this principle, one could create an electrical magic spell that directly shot lightning, though it wasn’t as powerful as a lightning strike spell.

For now, it wasn’t fully refined for practical use in combat, so it was still at the practice stage.

"Even just this is a rather profound secret..."

Meisa muttered, looking troubled, before letting out a long sigh and speaking.

"Can I take some more time to think about how I’ll repay you?"

"Of course."

Turan didn’t say that he didn’t need compensation. One of the lessons he had learned after leaving the hill was that if you give knowledge, you should also receive something in return.

After a brief silence, Meisa shook her head and brought up something unexpected.

"In that case, how about we continue working together until I come up with proper compensation?"

"You mean practicing magic?"

"Yes. I think we can learn quite a lot from each other."

"Sounds good."

Turan was already determined not to neglect daily magic training. Competing with a high-level wizard would not only serve as motivation but also likely yield considerable growth.

"Then let’s meet every day at dusk in the garden starting tomorrow."

* * *

The next day, after his meeting with Meisa, someone came looking for Turan early in the morning.

It was Haram, the noble from the Guardian Bloodline who had briefly sparred with him in swordsmanship at the temple the day before.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Ah... yes. But what brings you here?"

"Have you thought about what I said yesterday?"

Turan tried to recall what Haram had said the previous day.

Was it something about setting aside some time to train and strengthen his body?

When he mentioned this, Haram nodded and declared.

"Go where? Are you talking about training?"

"Do you dislike the idea?"

After a moment’s hesitation, Turan eventually nodded and stepped out of his room.

Ashiz had suggested they go watch a play again today, but… training seemed like a more worthwhile use of his time than playing around.

Turan called for a servant to deliver a message to cancel the plans, but just then, Ashiz appeared at the end of the hallway.

"Hey, Turan! I heard there’s an incredible play showing today-"

Ashiz's cheerful voice trailed off the moment he spotted Haram standing next to Turan. His demeanor instantly deflated.

"Ah, Ashiz."

"Ah… hello, Uncle."

"Will you come as well?"

"What? No, no… I just got back from traveling, so I’m still too exhausted."

Haram hadn’t even said where they were going, yet Ashiz, flustered and rambling, made excuses before hastily retreating the way he came.

It wasn’t long before Turan figured out why Ashiz had reacted the way he did.

"One more time."

"Huuup…"

"One last time."

In the training ground located in the eastern section of the Berg Estate, surrounded by four buildings, there were various devices, likely magic artifacts, scattered about.

There were things like a metal bar that became heavier the more magic power you infused into it, and a chamber where the moment you stepped inside, your body felt overwhelmingly heavy.

Haram had Turan repeat various movements in these places, pushing his muscles to their limit.

For nobles, their physical strength rarely failed them under the weight of their own bodies, but here, things were different.

"That’s enough."

At Haram’s command, Turan withdrew the magic power he had been infusing into the metal bar, let it fall to the ground, and collapsed onto his back.

He could feel his sweat-soaked hair sticking to his face.

"Exhausted?"

"Yes…"

It felt as though he was more worn out than he had been even when fighting the Dark Elf necromancers.

At the time, Turan had merely been in poor physical condition from being thrown around by the Water Buffalo Undead Spirit. But this time, every muscle in his body, from his neck to his toes, had been thoroughly pushed to its limit.

At Turan's reply, Haram gave a strange smirk, lifting only the corners of his mouth.

"Still, you should be thankful that you're a wizard and only need to train once."

"Is it different if you're not a wizard?"

"Normally, even if you build muscles through training, they'll weaken over time unless you keep working on them. But wizards, thanks to their magic power maintaining their body in optimal condition, don’t lose what they've built after just one session."

After saying this, Haram pointed to the sky and added,

"Besides, doesn’t exercising and feeling the breeze afterward feel refreshing?"

"That's... true."

After hesitating briefly, Turan agreed with Haram's words.

Indeed, lying there, drenched in sweat, he felt a strange sense of exhilaration. It was similar to the feeling he got when reading a book, a sense of accomplishment that he was becoming something better than before.

As Turan lay sprawled on the ground, Haram grumbled for a while about how wizards, especially nobles, who neglected physical training despite their well-suited bodies were all fools. Then he stood up and gave another order.

"You should be rested enough now."

"No, I haven’t-"

"I know. You’ve rested plenty. From now on, I’ll teach you weapon skills and hand-to-hand combat."

After spending a hellish morning in intense training, Turan dragged his trembling legs to a small dining hall and asked the servants to prepare some food for him.

Not long after, Ashiz appeared out of nowhere, sitting across from him.

"How in the world did you end up getting caught by Uncle Haram?"

"Well…"

When Turan explained the story of how Haram had decided to train him last night, Ashiz let out a laugh that was equal parts disbelief and pity.

"You got baited."

"Baited?"

"Uncle Haram believes that all nobles should have hand-to-hand combat skills. He uses the same trick every time. I fell for it when I was younger, too."

According to Ashiz, Haram’s usual tactic involved showing off a flashy swordsmanship demonstration and saying something like, "Wouldn’t you like to try this?" Then, he would drag his victim to the training grounds and subject them to grueling exercises.

Ashiz himself had been caught by Haram when he was younger, at the tender age of twenty-five, and had endured harsh training. Ever since, even the suggestion of training made him avoid Haram entirely.

"But I’ve heard that just one session of his training has a lasting effect."

"Even so, it’s way too exhausting! Magic training is way better. Besides, you’re a guest here. You could just tell him you want to stop."

At Ashiz’s suggestion, Turan hesitated for a moment before shaking his head.

"No, I’m planning to continue for a while."

Although Turan had spent his entire life walking, running, and throwing stones, he had never undergone structured physical training before. But something about Haram’s methods felt remarkably systematic, and Turan’s instincts told him this would be worthwhile.

And then there were the training devices, artifacts created by the enchanters of the House Berg, filling the training grounds. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to make use of such extraordinary tools.

"Why don’t you join me?"

"Me? I’m too old for that now…"

Ashiz, who outwardly looked like he was in his early twenties, chuckled awkwardly as he replied.

* * *

For the next three weeks, Turan’s daily routine became highly productive.

He rose early in the morning to engage in physical training with Haram. After putting his muscles through a grueling regimen, he replenished his energy with a nutritious lunch. In the afternoon, he took breaks by going to the city with Ashiz to watch plays or read books in a library, though not one like Orem City’s library, of course.

In the evening, he returned to the estate to train in magic with Meisa. During their sessions, the two grew significantly closer.

By the end of three weeks, they were calling each other by name in a friendly manner. Considering that Meisa couldn’t even properly remember Turan’s name when they first met, it was quite a surprising development.

"Still having trouble, Turan?"

"Well, it’s because I’m not an Arabion."

At Meisa’s teasing tone, Turan scratched his chin and looked at the scorch marks etched all over the wall in front of him.

They were the remnants of 'Thunder Strike', a spell that allowed him to shoot electricity at a target, generated by friction from his fingers.

Currently, Turan's task was to accurately hit his target, but even now, two or three of his shots out of ten would land not in the center of the target but around its edges.

It wasn’t because Turan lacked skill in magic; rather, lightning magic itself had an inherent tendency to be imprecise.

To overcome this, there were only two solutions: either perfectly understand and account for the principles behind how lightning traveled or improve his mastery of the spell through sheer practice.

"It’s difficult for me to help you with this. I’ve never even thought about aiming lightning magic before."

As someone born with the Storm Bloodline, Meisa could naturally control lightning without effort. This made it impossible for her to offer meaningful advice to Turan, who was still struggling through trial and error.

It’s like asking someone who has been running since birth to teach someone else how to walk.

"I guess I’ll just have to keep trying."

Letting out a deep sigh, Turan suddenly remembered that the magic artifact would be completed in about a week.

And by that time, he would have to leave this place.

‘...I don’t really want to leave.’

Life at the House Berg had been, without exaggeration, the happiest time of Turan’s life.

The standard of living here, as one would expect from the home of a great noble family, was incomparable. He had teachers and partners to train both his body and magic, and even a friend to share hobbies with.

But he couldn’t stay here forever.

After all, he was only a guest.

For now, there was no fear of being discovered, but there was no guarantee that he could keep his true identity hidden forever…

"Here you are, Lady Meisa!"

Lost in thought, Turan was startled by an unfamiliar voice that suddenly echoed through the garden.

For some reason, a man who appeared to be in his early twenties and whom Turan had never seen before was glaring at him with a strangely hostile expression.

"My lady, this man is…?"

"None of your business. More importantly, why are you here? I told everyone from the main house not to approach me while I’m recovering."

Meisa’s attitude toward the man, who seemed to be a member of the House Arabion, was as cold as ice.

In fact, her demeanor was so harsh that it bordered on hostility.

The man, trembling slightly, eventually lowered his head and spoke.

"The family head has summoned you, my lady."

"For what reason?"

"That is…"

The man glanced briefly at Turan, his expression clearly suggesting that he wanted him to leave so they could speak in private.

However, before Turan could react, Meisa pressed him sharply.

"Answer me quickly. If it’s for some pointless reason, you’d better prepare yourself."

Her threatening tone made it clear that if he hesitated for even a moment, she wouldn’t hesitate to cast a spell. The man, clearly intimidated, hurriedly answered.

What he said was shocking even to Turan, who was silently listening nearby.

"The Dark Elves in the South have risen up in full force! Three cities have already fallen, and they’re preparing an expedition force to respond..."