The Principle of a Philosopher by Eternal Fool “Asley”
Chapter 380: Compatibility of the SoulWith each swing of his fists, explosions resounded and rocks crumbled.
These strange echoes through the mountains were manifestations of Asley’s anger and impatience.
His wounded fists cracked and shattered rocks, and sometimes shed blood.
“Hahaha… SHIT!”
In these mountains, far from the eyes of people, Asley went on an unstoppable rampage.
His clenched fists were not infused with even an ounce of arcane energy.
The arcane energy that he had trusted so much — all of the enormous amount he once had — had completely disappeared from Asley’s body.
“I can’t stay down…? Yeah, right. What the hell was I even going to do? What CAN I even do with this useless body!?”
During the incident, Asley had used the Teleportation Spell Circles in the Adventurers’ Guilds to travel to all corners of the world he knew — to set up Magic Shields around every city, town, village, and other settlements.
Then, when he was back to T’oued, he used Levitation to head to the battlefield as quickly as possible, and managed to save Irene in the nick of time.He had to take on the combined Zenith Breaths of Billy, Cleath, Alphas, and Betas — and he did manage to stop it all… but as it turned out, it came at a cost.
For a brief moment, his heart had stopped — and on the brink of death, a mysterious phenomenon occurred in Asley’s body.
Arcane energy — which his body was supposed to have an abundance of — was no longer being generated.
His body was no longer able to invoke any magic spell, magecraft, and even the most basic of special fighting techniques.
As a man who loved the arcane arts above all else and had devoted his whole life to pursuing them, his mind was filled with all kinds of negative emotions.
Rage, impatience, anxiety, fear, and grief all overflowed from Asley, turning his fists red.
His breathing was heavy, and blood spurted from his mouth along with his roars of anger.
Trees fell, the earth split apart, and rivers had their whole courses changed.
On a distant clifftop, five of Asley’s acquaintances were observing him. Pochi, Lina, Tifa, Fuyu, and Haruhana — the people who had tried but failed to keep him home.
Pochi, the Familiar who had been with him for over eight hundred years…
Lina, whose life he saved…
Tifa, who had become one of his first students alongside Lina…
Haruhana and Fuyu, two of the people he had freed from involuntary employment…
Despite the love and respect they all held for Asley, none of them could get any closer to him.
That was how weak and easily broken Asley was now.
There were still those who would stand before him, however — one of whom had lived through the era of legends just like him and Pochi. And the other… was one who had been absent from the battlefield.
They were Lylia and Minerva. And as with Lina and the others, Asley turned away from them.
“…Sorry, I don’t have time to talk right now.”
Asley said, controlling himself while visibly trembling.
Lylia looked away from Asley and replied,
“I’m just escorting Minerva here. She’s the one who wants to talk…”
Even Lylia did not want to — and could not stand to — see Asley like this.
And so, after saying what she needed to, she leaped up to the clifftop where Pochi and the others were.
“…So? What is there to even talk about?”
Asley turned to Minerva and gave her the same cold treatment.
Minerva was unfazed, however, exactly because she had not known him for anywhere as long as the others had.
Resolutely driven by a sense of duty, Minerva looked kindly at Asley.
“Rise, High Cure.”
And with her gentle voice, she invoked a healing spell at Asley.
Looking at the light, Asley let out a dry laugh.
“Hah… haha…”
Asley moved his hands toward the light, as if attracted by it.
It was not something he could touch, however.
All it did, aside from its intended purpose, was make Asley face the harsh reality.
“Why… are you doing this?”
He said, no longer able to keep himself from trembling.
“Because you were injured.”
Minerva said, her voice as sweet as ever.
That was what made Asley no longer able to hold back his emotions.
“…! I didn’t need it! YOU didn’t need to do it! I can heal myself just fine!”
He lashed out in rage, but Minerva was unaffected.
“All right. Then I’ll say I did it because I could.”
“…! Shut up!!”
Asley stomped the ground, making clear how enraged he was.
He directed his upset gaze at Minerva, still unaffected.
“You… you’re totally clueless! I don’t know where you were or what you were doing, but you sure as hell weren’t at the battlefield — and now you come here and say you want to talk!? Seriously!? Just go wherever you want and leave me alone!”
Despite how hostile Asley’s words sounded, Minerva took them head-on, looking at Asley all the while — as if she already knew how everything would turn out in the end.
And that was what further ate away at his conscience.
“Why… why won’t you leave me be!?”
“You need help, Mister Asley.”
“And what are you going to do about it!? Is there even anything you CAN do about it!?”
Asley swung his fists around in an attempt to drive Minerva away.
“I do not have the power to help you — that much is true. But I do have some powerful words to impart.”
“That’s not going to help…!”
“Can you really deny that? I know that YOU know very well how powerful words can be.”
Asley did not answer — because he could not.
He had held religious belief in the arcane arts, the invocation of which required words to be spoken.
It was impossible for him, as the one most devoted to it, not to understand that.
Minerva held up her index finger for Asley to see, and infused it with arcane energy, forming a stream of beautifully glowing light.
Asley locked his eyes onto it, following its trail with envy.
Minerva continued speaking — quietly, slowly, and precisely, as if teaching a child.
“Rise, A-rise, A-rise… Soul Disclosure.”
A slightly luminous Craft Circle was drawn onto Asley’s chest.
“What is this…?”
“Surely you are familiar with the concept of one’s soul’s aptitude for the arcane arts.”
“…I have consulted that method of measure before, yes.”
Minerva nodded.
“If one’s soul were to not be compatible with magic, they normally would enter the Warrior University or become an adventurer, pursuing the path of a warrior. And if their soul were to be compatible, they would pursue the path of a mage.”
Asley was within his power to rage on, but Minerva’s gentle aura kept him from doing so.
“Mister Asley, you have considered yourself a mage, and pursued the arcane arts. You, as an individual, possess one of the largest pools of arcane energy. That much is clear to everyone… But this magecraft shows what is not normally known: your actual aptitude.”
Upon being told so, Asley groaned in annoyance, showing his lack of confidence.
“When used on someone with magic aptitude, the Circle will emit light.”
Asley looked at the Craft Circle on his chest again.
Seeing that it was indeed glowing, Asley let out a sigh of relief.
Then he turned his attention back to Minerva, who proceeded to infuse her index finger once again.
“Rise, A-rise, A-rise, Soul Disclosure.”
This time, the Craft Circle did not form on any target, simply hovering in place.
Asley tilted his head.
“Hmm… Is this it?”
“…?”
“Is this truly the light of the man with the most arcane energy in the world?”
Asley did not understand what Minerva meant.
But the next time Minerva moved her finger, the meaning of the message was clear to him.
“…& Remote Control.”
The Soul Disclosure Craft Circle, moved by the spell, stopped in front of Minerva’s chest.
She was showing her magic aptitude — and that was what made Asley understand.
…Minerva’s Craft Circle was shining far brighter than the one on Asley.
Asley looked at his own chest once more, and saw for certain how different the two Circles were.
“This is the light of those who have a decently high magic aptitude.””
No matter how many times Asley compared the Craft Circles, the difference was clear.
Minerva continued,
“And that… is the light of those who have an extremely low magic aptitude.”
She then pointed at the Craft Circle on Asley.
“Mister Asley, from the very beginning… you have made a foolish choice.”
It was a merciless statement toward the man who loved the arcane arts.
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