Chapter 18

“…Ah! The artifact.”

The moment Samael vanished, I bolted straight for the deepest chamber of the dragon’s lair.

Securing the Achillipus Woodlands without a proper fight against him was a welcome surprise, but I couldn’t let it distract me from my true purpose here.

I hurriedly conjured a bolt of lightning, reducing the dragon’s corpse to ash, then began rummaging through the hoard of treasures and magical ingredients beneath.

There was a reason for my frantic haste.

The [Bloom]’s duration had less than a minute left…

I had to avoid the catastrophe of some random person stumbling upon the artifact while I was busy stuffing treasures into my inventory, triggering its soulbind.

The countless treasures glittering under the starlight were, to me now, merely stones.

“Found it!”

Amidst the gaudy, gleaming piles of gold, I spotted a reddish-orange crystal emitting an alien energy, and mentally cheered.

As if meticulously crafted by a master artisan moments ago, the pristine reddish-orange crystal was a perfect octahedron, utterly devoid of dust. And, in truth, it was an artifact with rather unassuming power compared to others in this game.

[Deals magical damage proportionate to the character’s Mana stat.]

The impact paled in comparison to artifacts that summoned massive pillars of fire, granted resurrection, or allowed one to steal another’s memories.

An average mage might think, “Just feels like some extra damage tacked onto Bolt… a bit underwhelming for an artifact, don’t you think?”

An average mage, that is…

“Now I can finally handle the trash mobs…!”

A one-shot mage has absolutely no basic attacks to deal with the countless trash mobs scattered throughout this world. All other spells besides Bloom are unusable.

Furthermore, physical stats like Strength, Agility, and Vitality are set to 1, rendering it impossible to disable an opponent by simply whacking them with a staff.

Therefore, in my bizarre and twisted mage build, the importance of this artifact, dropped as loot from a young dragon, stood far apart from the understanding of other mages.

They could simply cast Bolt when encountering trash mobs, but I was left with nothing to do but sit and cheer for my team to win.

“But those days are over…!”

I plunged my thin arm into the hoard, gripping the octahedron-shaped, russet crystal tightly.

In an instant, the crystal shattered into infinitesimally small fragments, which then ascended my arm, hovering near my heart.

The crystal shards shimmered before my chest, as if preparing for something, then suddenly pierced through my clothes, sinking into my skin.

“Huh? Uh, what the hell.”

In the game, it just entered my inventory with the word (Bound) – I hadn’t predicted such an event would exist.

Thousands of crystal particles burrowed beneath my skin, yet I felt no pain.

Only one thing, an alien sensation I had never experienced before.

A feeling like something, not part of my body, had embedded itself somewhere in my heart.

I focused on this sensation.

It didn’t feel harmful to my body. No, rather, as I concentrated on it, my mind seemed to clear, my heart to quieten.

“Uh… Manifestation?”

Instinct told me.

That if I concentrated on this alien sensation and said that word, it would be right.

Simultaneously with my murmur, the crimson fragments hidden beneath my skin began to float into the air.

They clumped together, repeating the process of combining and recombining, until they returned to a perfect octahedral crystal form.

The crystal floated above my left shoulder.

‘Oh, it works. So, from now on, I can leave the mobs I encounter to this thing…’

The moment I reached for the crystal floating above my shoulder blade, a satisfied smile forming on my face, my consciousness was dragged back to that familiar place once more.

My body lost its balance, collapsing weakly onto the golden heap. I felt the crystal shatter again, sinking back beneath my skin.

…Apparently, five minutes had passed.

“By the heavens…”

Alter Heindel breathed, a stunned expression painting his face as he gazed upon the boy sleeping soundly amidst the gold and jewels.

Five minutes.

A mere five minutes was all it took for this boy to prove his worth, to demonstrate that he was a genius destined to be humanity’s future.

When the boy had first strode confidently into the dragon’s nest, Alter could only watch his back with eyes brimming with anticipation.

Having taught the boy for the past seven days, indirectly sensing his talent, he had already known that a mere young dragon would be no match for him.

Indeed, with a single, precise strike aimed at the dragon’s vital point, the boy had silenced the beast in an instant.

It was a beautiful strike.

Lightning, of course, possesses the inherent quality of spreading out in all directions, carried by the surrounding air.

Restraining this characteristic of lightning is a crucial measure of a lightning mage’s skill.

What good is it if you create 100 units of lightning with magic, yet only deliver 60 to your opponent, scattering the remaining 40 into the air?

From that perspective, the boy’s strike was nothing short of perfection itself.

A single bolt of lightning, piercing the dragon’s hide as easily as tearing paper.

A straight line, devoid of any stray branches, arcing forward as if drawn with ink on parchment, vanishing into the night sky, leaving behind a stark white trace.

Not even the faintest spark of lightning ignited the tranquil wheat field. Such precise control was something that even Alter himself, a high-ranking 8th-circle mage, could not confidently claim to be able to achieve.

‘And that demon that appeared afterward… what *was* that?’

But the astonishment regarding the boy didn’t end there.

A high-ranking demon materializing out of thin air.

Rather than showing any signs of panic, the boy, as if having found a pouch of gold coins on the street, wore a relaxed smile as he toyed with the high-ranking demon.

As if he could snuff out that demon at any moment, if he so chose.

Against a high demon, no less, one even *he* wasn’t certain he could overcome.

‘…He’s concealing power, then.’

Even more, the boy possessed a dispassionate judgment, refusing to unleash that power carelessly, mindful of the battlefield.

The Enkel Plateau was the breadbasket, the vital granary, feeding the entire continent.

If an electric mage carelessly engaged a high demon in battle here, lightning strikes could incinerate all those precious stores.

Many possessed power, but few knew *when* and *how* to wield it.

And this boy knew. It wasn’t merely exceptional magical aptitude.

An insightful grasp of the surrounding terrain and the flow of battle; the audacity to display composure against a high demon. Added to that, the skill to pressure his opponent, finally seizing the Achilliptus Forest – a crucial military stronghold – without bloodshed…

The boy’s potential was, simply put, beyond even this 8th Circle mage to fully fathom.

“General… General Bean! General Bean?! What’s happening?!”

“…This is what happens once the duration of ‘Bloom’ expires. The reaction comes, from expelling all of one’s magic in such a short time.”

Alter spoke, calming the squad leader, who was grabbing the boy’s slight shoulders and shouting.

‘But why ‘Bloom’ of all spells?’

‘Bloom’ was currently evaluated as the least practical of all spells included in the electric magic system.

For five minutes, it unleashed all remaining magic, making its destructive power undeniable, but its severe recoil discouraged most mages from delving too deeply into it.

At best, it was learned as a last resort.

And yet, the boy’s ‘Bloom’ displayed a level of perfection far removed from the ordinary.

Within the boy’s magic resided a degree of completion that rivaled his own ‘Bolt,’ honed over eighty years of his life.

It was understandable that the Overlord had heard rumors this young boy was a high mage and came to kill him personally.

‘Just Bloom he researched so deeply? No, he said the boy has never learned magic properly…’

It was innate.

“Of all things, born with Bloom…”

Mages each possess magic that suits them from birth. In Alter’s case, it was ‘Bolt’, and in the case of his apprentice, Lir, it was ‘Thunder’.

That the magic most befitting a boy born with such inherent talent was Bloom, that was undeniably a snag…

‘But such a snag is nothing compared to the size of his talent.’

If this boy possessed such talent, raising magic like ‘Bolt’ or ‘Thunder’ to the level of his current ‘Bloom’ wouldn’t take too long.

Alter, beaming with the glory of becoming the teacher to a genius mage who would be remembered in human history, embraced the boy’s frail body and lifted him.

“Let’s return. Seems all tasks are complete.”

The boy’s body was alarmingly light, easily lifted even by the aging and weakened Alter.