Became a Medieval Fantasy Wizard

TL/Editor: raei

Schedule: 5/week

Illustrations: None

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Dranheim Imperial University.

In the past, when parting with Eredith, Ian made a promise with his master.

A promise to meet again someday in Dranheim.

'It's a bit early, but... should I go ahead and wait?'

Ian had three main reasons for visiting Dranheim.

Second was because of the wizards Ian had recovered.

The novice fire wizard Kira. The possible necromancer Maria. And... Professor Inglan.

Inglan was already a professor at Dranheim, while Kira and Maria were novice wizards who needed to gain knowledge at the university.

They would have plenty to do at the university, so their time could be spent productively.

And lastly.

The situation in the southern Empire was more turbulent than he'd expected.

'Why are there so many black wizards running around?'

Ian was far from being a crusader for justice.

He didn't like black wizards, but he had no intention of becoming a medieval policeman hunting down criminals.

Ian wanted to focus on exploring mysteries and collecting treasures.

But he'd already clashed with the black wizard group [Golden Rule Society] several times.

Before any more trouble arose, he planned to lay low at the Imperial University.

There he could meet his master, study magic, and pass the time until the black wizards quieted down.

"I see. The Imperial University, is it?"

Sir Leshach gave Ian a look of obvious disappointment.

He'd finally met a capable young man.

As a wizard, Ian was highly skilled and even adept at fighting black wizards. If he helped Sir Leshach, he would surely accomplish great things.

But Ian had openly declared his intention to flee to the Imperial University.

Sir Leshach had to swallow his disappointment.

Wizards being willful was nothing new. It wasn't an particularly unusual situation.

"I'll be sure to report your deeds to His Holiness."

"I'd appreciate that."

For Ian, maintaining good relations with Heaven's Faith was beneficial.

Religion was one of the two great pillars supporting the Empire. Sir Leshach had said he would inform the highest religious leader of Ian's name.

"Ah. If you'd like to sell the amber stones, I can write you a letter of recommendation."

"A letter of recommendation?"

Befitting a knight of His Holiness, Sir Leshach's recommendation would be extremely valuable.

Any merchant guild influenced by the church would treat the bearer as a VVIP!

Sir Leshach immediately wrote a letter of recommendation for Ian.

As an educated knight, Sir Leshach wrote directly on parchment.

Considering most medieval knights were illiterate, it was certainly impressive.

"I'll continue pursuing Bertholdt."

Ian nodded.

It was as expected. Sir Leshach had been hunting black wizards from the start.

Having discovered a big fish like Bertholdt, he wouldn't just let it go.

"It would be best if you could cut off his head."

Sir Leshach laughed at Ian's words.

Ian was glad to be rid of the troublesome burden, and Sir Leshach was pleased to have a chance to earn merit.

Only that bastard Bertholdt would be wailing in hell with his head cut off.

"May the heavens' blessing be with you, wise wizard Ian."

"May the sun and moon light your path, Sir Leshach."

After exchanging farewells, Sir Leshach set off.

It was a cool morning with a gentle breeze.

---

---

Ian headed for Baron Vincent's domain, while Sir Leshach moved to pursue Bertholdt.

So what was Bertholdt up to?

The Heavenly Wizard Bertholdt...

Was running for his life without looking back.

'What the hell? Who was that guy?!'

Scattering the undead he'd created, Bertholdt fled with just the clothes on his back.

The reason for Bertholdt's unseemly escape was none other than Ian.

Ian had dispelled Bertholdt's undead with a single magical attack.

So Ian thought, 'Maybe Bertholdt is actually a weakling?'

That thought was precisely the opposite for Bertholdt.

'... Isn't that bastard ridiculously strong?!'

Bertholdt had no idea what kind of wizard Ian was.

He didn't even know Ian existed until that moment.

But Ian suddenly summoned lightning with his bare hands and turned Bertholdt's undead to ashes.

It was natural for him to be shocked out of his wits.

Bertholdt couldn't even guess what magic Ian had used for such a feat.

In short, a magical prodigy had suddenly appeared out of nowhere!

'Let's get out of here for now!'

So Bertholdt threw away his pride and everything else to run.

He judged he stood no chance if Ian and Sir Leshach attacked together.

Thanks to this, Bertholdt couldn't even carry out the mission he'd been given at the meeting.

He had to hide in a remote mountain.

"Look at my situation."

Bertholdt grumbled as he chewed on some dried rations.

If we had to pinpoint where things went wrong, it was when he tried to hit on Maria halfway through.

If he'd just quietly carried out his mission, he wouldn't have met Ian.

He wouldn't have caused trouble for the meeting either.

... But complaining now was useless. The milk had already been spilled.

Bertholdt had royally screwed up.

Sighing deeply, Bertholdt pulled out a brass mirror from his backpack.

This brass mirror was a gift from a demon, a wondrous item that allowed face-to-face conversations no matter how far apart.

The black wizards of the Golden Rule Society used these brass mirrors to exchange opinions.

"[I desire a call.]"

As Bertholdt spoke in Maronius, the brass mirror rippled.

Beyond the mirror, the face of an old man with a long beard appeared.

[Oh. Bertholdt. Did your journey end well?]

The old man mistook Bertholdt's call for a regular report.

Bertholdt shook his head with a haggard expression.

"There's been a bit of a problem."

[A problem?]

"On the way to the destination... I ran into Sir Leshach and a strange wizard."

Bertholdt bowed his head.

"I'm ashamed, Regent."

The long-bearded old man.

Regent Antios frowned.

[Tell me more.]

Bertholdt reported to Antios what he had experienced.

Of course, with a hefty dose of MSG.

The basics of reporting are to minimize your own faults and exaggerate others', right?

[Hmm.]

After listening to the entire report, Antios tilted his head slightly.

He more or less understood the situation, but...

[I can understand Leshach, but... a wizard named Ian?]

"Yes, Regent."

[He created lightning with his bare hands and struck with it?]

"That's correct."

[...]

Antios' expression turned strange.

Bertholdt, you bastard. Didn't you sprinkle too much MSG on this story?

It was customary to praise your opponent's valor when defeated in battle.

Not because you wanted to... but to cover up your own mistakes.

Rather than admitting you lost because you're an idiot, it's better for your mental health to think you lost because your opponent was overpowered!

It's not for nothing that during the Imjin War, Japanese generals described Yi Sun-sin as a monster.

You need to say things like 'That bastard breathed lightning!' for others to nod and say 'Ah! He really was a monstrous opponent!'

So Antios was prepared to take Bertholdt's description of 'Wizard Ian' as exaggerated.

But...

Isn't this a bit much?

[He used magic without invoking Mystery?]

"... That's how it appeared."

[Nonsense. Even the most talented air wizard can't handle lightning barehanded. They can only call down lightning by calling upon the mysteries.]

"But Ian clearly..."

[Could you have seen it wrong?]

"No, I definitely...!"

Bertholdt insisted like a Joseon-era peasant that 'I saw it with my own two eyes!', but Antios wouldn't believe him...

Ian's magic was that far removed from common sense.

It truly was magic that defied common sense.

Ian's magic was completely different from the Maronius system.

But as Bertholdt continued his consistent victim testimony, Antios began to think 'Maybe?'

Right. Bertholdt's not a five-year-old child. He wouldn't make up a completely false story, would he?

[I see. Since your location has been exposed, there's nothing to be done. Hide well and avoid your pursuers.]

Bertholdt let out a sigh of relief.

There's a cliché in fiction where evil organizations don't forgive failure. They do things like sinking the failure into a river full of man-eating crabs.

But the Golden Rule Society was surprisingly lenient about failure.

The reason was simple.

The organization was just too small...

It was already difficult to get support from nobles, so if they punished every little failure, the organization's roots would be shaken.

Like the space-time wizard conference, the Golden Rule Society, an underground organization, was not free from economic concerns.

The greatest enemy of evil organizations was none other than the miserable medieval economy...

As evidence, Antios' residence was not a mansion, but a cave in some mountain.

He bore the imposing title of [Regent], but his home was a cave.

Antios claimed he lived in the mountains 'for smooth communication with members', but the truth was he had no domain to settle in.

"I'll lay low for a while. Contact me when things settle down on your end."

[I'll be waiting!]

Antios put the brass mirror back in its sack.

Then he sat down on a mat woven from straw.

A growling cry echoed from the darkness.

[What is it?]

"Nothing much. Don't mind it, Dragon."

Antios wasn't alone in the cave.

A massive body writhed in the thick darkness beyond.

Yellow, vertically slit pupils stared at Antios.

[Oh-ho. Don't mind it, you say? How very suspicious. I wonder if you creatures are plotting behind my back...]

A flicking tongue. Eyes bigger than a human head.

'Black Dragon Predius.'

Antios glared at the repulsive creature with contempt.

The black dragon Predius had some kind of contract with the Golden Rule Society.

The contract stated that if the Golden Rule Society provided treasures, Predius would lend his strength.

But this contract wouldn't last long.

Because of Predius' personality.

'A dragon mad with greed...!'

Predius was a being gripped by revolting greed.

All dragons are evil and greedy, but Predius was on another level.

[This wasn't in the contract!]

The black dragon thrust its massive head forward.

Saliva-coated fangs gleamed, threatening to tear Antios apart.

But that wasn't all.

A giant spear was lodged in Predius' jaw.

This wasn't a wound inflicted by humans.

Predius had jabbed the spear into his own jaw.

This spear was Predius' most prized treasure.

He cherished and obsessed over it so much that he pierced it through his jaw like a piercing to keep it connected to his body.

As a result, saliva constantly dripped from the hole in his jaw, but Predius didn't care.

He'd rather become a drooling beast than let someone steal his treasure.

"... I apologize for startling you. As an apology, I'll give you a cartload of amber stones."

[That's not enough! Make it two cartloads!]

"Two cartloads. I'll give you two cartloads."

Predius grinned with satisfaction.

Saliva dripped from the spear-pierced hole, making Antios turn away in disgust.

He had made the contract with the dragon himself, but even Antios found this mad dragon hard to handle.

'We'll have to dispose of him someday.'

When the time came, the Golden Rule Society would eliminate the black dragon.

But for now, he could be useful in many ways.

[Don't forget our contract, old human.]

"I know. I'll tell you soon which domain to attack."

[Not just any domain! A land overflowing with precious treasures! If you tell me about some insignificant land, I'll chew you up bones and all.]

"... I know, Dragon."

Antios slowly considered which land would be suitable for unleashing a dragon.

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