WETRIED TRANSLATIONS
Wizard of the Abyss
[Translator – Aren]
Chapter 77 - Selection (8)
I carefully examined the two stars floating in my eyes.
It certainly was impressive. Now that I was a 2-star wizard, people would probably doubt me less.
Some might even call me a magical genius. But still…
[And what am I supposed to do with this now?]
Nothing had actually changed. Sure, my burdens eased up a little, which was good, but—
-Creak...
No matter how much pressure I tried to apply on them, no matter how I pushed with the currents, the roots remained completely unscathed.
These things weren’t just normal roots. They definitely were reinforced with some sort of magic. They were far tougher than any plant should be.
Azrael looked at me with bright, eager eyes.
"That’s up to you.”
[?]
"You were naked, and I've given you a sword. What more do you want? The rest is up to you.”
Contrary to his careless words, he looked way too happy to be saying them.
"I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”
[Me?]
"Yes. I’d love to take my time explaining and examining you in detail, but I can’t do that while stuck in this body, and we don’t exactly have the time for that right now.”
Azreal glanced around, seemingly troubled.
He probably was looking at something above ground, not here.
[What is going on up there?]
"Don’t worry about that. Once you escape, head up. I’ll head there soon."
-Thud
With that, Azrael slammed headfirst into the ground.
A quick check using Tide Sense confirmed that he was still breathing. He had simply ditched his body.
...Well, it wasn’t really his. If the ground hadn’t been so soft, that could have ended really, really badly.
"Hmm…”
I laid the bloated elf flat on his back, observing my own condition.
-So far, learning to handle the Abyssal magic was simple.
If my burdens grew stronger, I would “become able” to do something new.
This process felt more like realizing some already built-in instincts than really learning. It was like a baby duck knowing immediately who its mother was right after hatching.
But magic was different.
Even if one attained enlightenment and gained more stars, that alone would accomplish nothing.
A 2-star wizard was merely someone who had been handed a new tool.
Actually wielding that tool was dependent on one’s talent and knowledge.
'...I have no idea.'
And of course I didn’t know a single 2-star spell.
All I had learned was basic elemental magic, and—
The high-level ones from the book Ciel had given me, along with the guarantee that Dercia would teach them to me one day.
However, even now that I had attained my second star, I couldn’t even imagine eventually learning them.
'Still, I should at least give it a try.'
I didn’t have any other choice after all. Those were the only spells, outside of basic elemental magic, that I knew.
I felt my way around using the currents, pulled out a book, and searched for a spell.
And eventually I found one that I might be able to use. Thunder Gale.
It was a purely offensive spell that let one compress wind to its limits, creating wind spears as sharp and fast as lightning.
I might be able to tear apart these roots with that level of strength. I flipped the page to check the casting requirements.
-2-star or higher Elemental magic: Wind
-4-star or higher Compression-type magic (any subtype)
-3-star or higher Telekinesis-type magic (telekinesis formed with wind is difficult to use)
?
What was that supposed to mean? After flipping through the book a bit more, I finally understood what high-level magic really was.
The output came only from basic elemental magic.
However, everything else was a combination of multiple elemental spells, and then a combination of those combinations.
"Aha."
...So that was it. Elemental magic wasn’t real magic.
I had finally understood what I had heard in one of those classes before.
Speaking in metaphors, elemental magic was nothing but fuel. If 1-star magic was comparable to sesame oil, then 2-star was like crude petroleum.
The second requirement, 4-star or higher Compression-type magic, was usually a combination of one 3-star spell and one 1-star spell. And a common 3-star spell was made from a 2-star and 2-star spell. And a 2-star from two 1-stars.
It was absurd.
Thunder Gale was a simple attack spell, which meant it made use of much simpler combinations than most high-level magic, and yet even it required this many spells to be used at the same time.
I suddenly realized what lunatics high-level wizards actually were. They fired spells every time they blinked, but what they actually did in that fraction of a second was combine hundreds, if not thousands, of spells.
I absolutely could never do something like that. I couldn’t even use Thunder Gale, the easiest spell in the entire book.
Sighing, I set the book on the ground, trying to think of another way—when a spark suddenly flared in my mind.
...No, wait a second.
Compression and Telekinesis?
"..."
I carefully reviewed the requirements again.
Pull out as much wind as one possibly can and spin it.
Done. A sharp, slicing gale blew through the previously quiet cave.
Since I was a 2-star mage now, I could certainly draw out much more wind than before.
My world had grown stronger, resisting the burdens, that must have been why. Feeling slightly satisfied, I moved to the next step.
Compress the wind using compression magic.
I couldn’t use Compression magic, so I used water pressure instead.
The wind filling the chamber shrank down to the size of my palm.
"Ugh..."
I felt like my whole body was being crushed in the process.
But perhaps because my world had grown, I was able to endure it.
The final step. Use Telekinesis magic to create a path for the compressed wind to shoot through.
If I just released it blindly, it would explode like a bomb and take me, its caster, with it. However, if I used the currents to pierce a channel through the compressed wind and fire it all at a single point—
-Boom!!
"Kgh, ghk...!"
I messed up. The trajectory of the Thunder Gale grazed my skin.
Even that tiny graze alone was enough to slice open the back of my hand. I quickly clamped the wound shut with the currents—
Which was when I looked at what I had just done.
"Hmm…”
The root was, of course, torn apart.
More than that. The torn piece of root that had been binding my hand had flown all the way up and got stuck to the ceiling, and the deep gouges created by the Thunder Gale carved across the floor all the way to the far end of the chamber.
Could it be…?
I flipped through the book and checked the requirements for every spell written inside of it.
It was clear. Almost every single one included Telekinesis and Compression. It hadn’t been just one.
I could finally understand why Dercia seemed to have said that I would someday be able to use all these spells.
This book was a collection of high-level spells I could activate by making use of my Abyssal magic.
To activate high-level magic, one normally required one to use combinations of many advanced spells.
However, my Abyssal magic could stand in for those spells.
So, even with just this little bit of fuel, I was able to activate them, albeit crudely.
It wasn’t perfect. In the end, it was like taping over a crack that should be welded shut, a makeshift solution to forcibly activate a spell that I normally shouldn’t be able to activate.
But—
-Boom!
-Bang, booom!
"It’s quite useful…”
Having more tools was always a good thing.
Especially in dire situations like this.
Now freed, I stretched my body with satisfaction and looked up at the ceiling.
I was told to go up.
It seemed like it was time for me to lodge a complaint about a certain someone’s teaching methods.
* * *
On the surface, around the World Tree.
Linmel was gritting her teeth as she slashed at the roots, but all she managed to do was cut through their black outer shell.
Shrrk!
Before she could regain her stance, other roots shot up from the ground and rushed towards her like sharp spikes, trying to take advantage of her gap.
"...Tsk!"
Linmel tried to pull her sword back—but that was a mistake.
The roots were far too fast for something that should be part of a plant.
As she found herself surrounded on all sides by walls of roots, she gritted her teeth even more.
"Never fear abandoning your weapon."
The walls of roots casting a shadow over her vanished in an instant.
All that remained was expertly chopped firewood and roots oozing sap reminiscent of blood. Brimdal, who had slid his sword back into its sheath, scowled at the sea of disgusting roots still littering the plains.
"You can always reclaim a weapon, but not a life.”
"It seems like she doesn’t intend to kill us.”
Ciel, kicking away an incoming root, muttered calmly as she looked up at the World Tree.
"However, she absolutely refuses to let anyone get close.”
"Shaman, what were her plans again?”
Brimdal asked, wearing a slightly irritated expression.
Azrael shrugged and replied.
"Apparently she’s planning to turn every elf into a Fallen just to save a single disciple.”
That wasn’t accurate, but it was close enough.
Brimdal let out a sigh and glared at the World Tree.
Thousands of roots had burst from the ground all around them like giant worms, writhing in clear warning.
If they took even one more step forward, those roots would attack them instantly.
"Why do you stay beside a lunatic like that?”
"No one’s perfect, right? I’m sure everyone’s felt the sudden urge to wipe out an entire species for no reason at least once in their life.”
"Only you and your lady feel these kinds of urges. Tsk.”
Brimdal clicked his tongue and stared toward the base of the World Tree.
Not the brainless elves of the current age, but the intelligent elves of old.
Brimdal knew.
He knew the things elves used to do in an age no human could ever remember.
He couldn’t condone the shaman turning his own people into mindless livestock—but neither could he completely condemn the reasoning behind it.
'He wouldn’t have changed, right?'
A seed of unease was slowly sprouting within Brimdal’s chest.
It was unlikely, but if it were to happen—he would have no choice but to give up on Jern.
He was a rare material that made him find his spark again. He decisively shook his head and stepped forward with resolve.
"Shaman."
"What?"
"How much longer will it take?”
"Hmm…”
Azrael pondered, then shrugged.
"About 2 hours."
"How pathetic. Why’re you so slow?”
"You thick-headed dwarf… Do you have any idea how deep that boy, Jern, is? How many battles I will run into on the way? The fact that I can guarantee two hours is proof of my incredible brilliance.”
"The incompetent always have the most to say.”
"You’re impossible. Fine, then I’ll do it in 30 minutes.”
Azrael shook his head and held up three fingers.
"But you’ll have to drag out Dercia’s real body. If you can do that, it’ll be doable.”
Even as he said it, Azrael knew that it was impossible.
A mage who had done prior preparations was far stronger than one who didn't.
A mage who could control the battlefield was twice as strong as one who merely prepared.
And their opponent was Dercia.
No matter how much advantage a Knight usually had against a mage, facing a 9-star mage under these conditions was something no sane person would ever even dream about attempting.
"Right."
But Brimdall just scoffed, casually resting his sword on his shoulder.
"You better save him before I end up killing her. Fighting while holding back is a pain.”
"...You crazy bastard.”
Azrael was appalled, but he also knew that Brimdal wasn’t bluffing.
That level of confidence meant there would be no major issues.
"Ciel, can you assist?”
"Yes."
Ciel answered, clasping her hands together.
But Brimdal asked again, in a much heavier tone.
"When I asked if you can assist, what I meant was, can you plant your fist in your lady's face even if she orders you not to?"
"Hmm…”
Ciel hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a slightly awkward expression.
"I just thought about it, and I might end up beating my Lady unconscious. It seems I need to control my anger a bit.”
"...That’s enough.”
There was clearly no need to worry about betrayal.
"We don’t have time, so let’s start right away. If we give her even a moment to prepare, things will become even more difficult.”
Fortunately, Dercia had only secured the area but hadn’t fully prepared for battle, so there was no intense resistance from her side yet.
Ciel and Azrael agreed and began to move forward.
"M-me too…!”
"Hmm?”
Linmel, who had been left out, hurriedly stepped forward, pleading.
"I want to go too! I can help!”
"..."
The hand she was holding her sword with trembled.
Not with fear, but with fury.
Her eyes were filled with the anguish of having failed to protect someone. The kind of look belonging on the face of a Knight who had broken their oath, not on a young apprentice’s.
Brimdal asked, puzzled.
"Why? It’s not your place to step in.”
"Sir Brimdal… She’s still a child.”
"I don’t say this to reprimand her. I ask because I know she isn’t foolish enough to be ignorant of the difference in strength.”
She knew she couldn’t handle even a single one of those many roots.
So why did she insist on stepping in?
That was the meaning behind that unvarnished question. Linmel, however, answered straightforwardly.
"This is why I want to become a Knight!”
"...What?"
"Well, more precisely, a Knight of Heavenly Retribution.”
To protect a mage.
To protect Jern, she wanted to become a Knight of Heavenly Retribution.
She knew she was weak. She also understood that she probably wasn’t of any help here.
But—
"I can’t just sit out on saving Jern.”
"...Hah."
Brimdal let out a breathless laugh, completely dumbfounded.
A personal oath. It almost sounded like something straight out of the romantic centuries-old stories, the kind Knights swore to a princess they secretly loved.
Their genders and statuses were different.
But the determination burning in her eyes was exactly the same.
'Knights really never change, huh?'
Brimdal narrowed his eyes and gently ruffled Linmel’s hair.
"Just forget about it today. Starting tomorrow, it will be your duty again.”
"..."
Linmel looked deeply dissatisfied but couldn’t defy him.
Once Brimdal and Ciel left, Azrael cleared his throat to draw Linmel’s attention.
"Ahem. So what are you going to do now? I’m off to save your boyfriend.”
As one might expect of a shaman, he was quite quick on the uptake. Linmel didn’t deny his words; she only stared at the World Tree with a stern expression.
"I’m going to save him, even if I have to go alone.”
"Hmm, you should learn your limits. Don’t go getting caught and turning into dead weight.”
"...Uuugh!"
Being rejected over and over again, even Linmel couldn’t hold back her anger anymore.
She forced down her tears, stomped the ground, drew her sword, and prepared to charge toward the squirming roots.
"I can handle myself, Grandpa! So please hurry up and save Jern!”
"Ahem, ahem…”
Just as she was about to do something truly reckless…
Azrael called out to her in a low, gentle voice.
"What if that arrogant brat needed your help to be saved?”
"...What?"
Those were the magical words she had desperately wanted to hear.
She stopped in her tracks as Azrael looked at her with a stern expression.
"If you help me save Jern, I might be able to cut the time down considerably. Maybe down to 20 minutes?”
"B-but I’m…weak.”
Weak.
She realized it only after she said it out loud.
She was weak.
She had always been the strongest at the Academy. Ever since she became an apprentice, she had never lost a single spar.
But—all her opponents had been her age or maybe a few years older.
She had been the strongest frog in a tiny well.
However, compared to those outside in the real world, she was painfully weak. Too weak to protect Jern…
Before the strength drained completely from her grip on her sword, Azrael’s gentle voice reeled her back in.
"You might be able to do it, hmmm…”
"Do what?”
"Your talent is something even that crazy dwarf Knight acknowledged as once-in-a-generation.”
"Talent alone means nothing…”
She had heard it over and over. How talented, how exceptional, and how gifted she was.
But what use was that? What did it matter how brilliant she might be in the future…?
She was completely useless now that it really mattered.
"No, no.”
Azrael grinned and pulled out a vial of ominous-looking black poison from his pocket.
"Would you like to experience it?”
"Wh-what?”
Instinctively taking a step back, Linmel watched Azrael grinning eerily at her as he offered her something so tempting that she couldn’t possibly refuse.
"Your future self who can perfectly wield that talent of yours.”
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