Make Dark Fantasy Great Again-Chapter 40: Henya Ye Mastien (2)

“My disciple is too good for me.”

This was a pet phrase of Marina, Henya’s master.

“My disciple is too good for me.”

Each time she said these words, her face would radiate affection and pride for her student.

“My disciple is too good for me.”

But at some point, her expression began to change when she spoke them.

-Master. I’ve told you many times, but you don’t need to provide me with material support. If there’s something I need, just let me know. I can acquire it myself.

-This ring...the one you gave me, remember? I don’t think I need it anymore. I’ve found something more suitable, you see. I’ll return it to you.

“My disciple is too good for me.”

Henya was a disciple of impeccable conduct. Marina would joke that even if she weren’t around, her disciple wouldn’t go hungry anywhere.

-No, Master. It’s enough. From now on, I’ll think and learn on my own.

“My disciple is too good for me.”

Henya was an extraordinarily fast learner. Marina would joke that even without her guidance, her disciple would thrive—and perhaps grow even faster without her.

-...I have a slightly different opinion, Marina. Your thoughts are certainly interesting and useful...But on this matter, at least, I believe I should apply my own method.

“My disciple is too good for me.”

-This book was kept in our family library. To tell you about it...it’s actually a grimoire related to an ancient branch of magic. I kept it secret all this while, but I’ve been researching this since the day I first came to the tower.

-I’m revealing this now because...Marina, I want you to help me with this research.

-...Is that so? It’s fine. Pretend you didn’t hear it. I did hope you’d understand—but I didn’t expect much anyway.

***“Henya...”

Marina murmured wistfully, gazing at her disciple’s grave.

There was no tombstone, and thus no name to mark it. It was a humble grave that would be forgotten the moment she turned away.

She recalled her disciple’s final moments before her downfall. She had imagined Henya’s image—a great mage, woven with glory and honor—would be immortalized in history, remembered forever.

“I never imagined you’d be buried in such a humble grave...”

The master recalled her disciple’s final sight before the body was recovered. Amid the devastation of the ancient spell, a single, clean scar stood in stark contrast to the ruined body, resembling her disciple’s handwriting.

That scar was the trace of a 3rd-rank spell: Mana Spike.

Mana Spike had been the first spell Marina taught Henya, the spell that awakened Henya’s talent as a mage, and the spell that bound them as master and disciple.

Of all the magic at her disposal, Henya had chosen to end her life with that very spell, as if placing a neat full stop to the end of a life stained with mistakes and shame.

Her death, then, was an act of reflection and repentance for past wrongs. She chastised her own mistakes by showing respect for her master’s teachings—respect she had never fully expressed. Even though chastising the disciple’s mistakes should have been the master’s duty...

But her disciple had always fulfilled what the master should have done. And each time, the master told herself it couldn’t be helped because...

“You were too good for me, my disciple...”

Perhaps there could have been another way...but now, with everything ended, that was a pointless fantasy.

The master placed her staff on her disciple’s grave and renounced her magic power.

It was a grave without tombstones—far too humble to honor two mages.

***

▶Event 43: The Master’s Failing

***Before the duel began, Marina had sensed something very off about her disciple.

-Henya, shall I announce the duel and accept spectator applications?

-...No! Absolutely not!

-What?

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Henya loved proving herself and would eagerly boast about it afterward. She enjoyed this process more than anything.

Normally, Marina wouldn’t have needed to suggest it. Her disciple would have already announced the duel and accepted spectators, assuring her there was no need to worry.

But when Henya reacted in the complete opposite way this time, Marina, as her master, couldn’t help but be baffled.

However, witnessing the duel in action, Marina finally understood why.

Master Ladros, the duel’s judge and only other spectator, exclaimed in shock.

“Good heavens. He’s only at the 4th rank, yet he can aspect shape?”

“...Master Ladros, that’s not the issue right now.”

“Not the issue? What are you even saying, Master Marina?”

Still in shock, Marina shot a glare at Meltas.

“Meltas, what on earth have you done?”

The old man was solemnly stroking his braided beard. Interpreting this gesture in her own light, Marina grew increasingly agitated.

“I know I remember right. That Risir boy. When I saw him yesterday morning, he had just entered the initial stage of the 4th rank.”

“...?!”

Master Ladros’ astonished eyes grew even rounder, staring at Risir in disbelief.

“I did hear that Risir fellow took an elixir...”

“Are you saying one elixir took him from the beginning of the 4th rank to the end? What, did he drink a brew of dragon blood? I’ve heard about it. It was a high-grade elixir made by Gosralta shamans, wasn’t it?”

“A high-grade elixir from Gosralta shamans? That would be quite challenging for someone at the 4th rank to handle...”

“Oh yes, challenging for sure. But let’s be generous and say that boy managed to process about 50% of the elixir’s potency.”

“...I’d say he would’ve reached mid-4th rank, at best.”

“Right. You agree, Master Ladros? Isn’t that the best-case scenario? But what’s this. Hasn’t he already reached the late stages of the 4th rank? Meltas, you’d better not try to gloss this over by saying I’m mistaken.”

The two masters turned to Meltas, demanding an explanation.

“...”

What they didn’t know was that the most surprised person there was none other than Meltas himself.

“At least you two know Risir was originally at the 4th rank...”

“?”

“?”

To make matters more complicated, when Meltas had first met him, Risir had been at the 3rd rank.

Meltas suddenly recalled what the lad had told him and simply repeated it.

“In any case, there’s nothing to be surprised about. This happens sometimes, apparently.”

“...What are you on about?”

“Don’t ask me further. I’m just as perplexed as you are right now.”

Meanwhile, as the three master mages processed their shock, Risir spoke to his opponent.

“Henya.”

The masters quickly turned their attention to them.

The duel had come to a standstill the moment it began. Henya had frozen in place, overwhelmed by the aspect magic Risir displayed. A wind arrow hovered above his hand, ready to strike.

His intuition whispered that if he attacked Henya now, she would yield victory without much resistance.

A moment of effortless glory would be nice in its own right...but it wasn’t the best outcome. This duel on its own was an important opportunity.

Risir needed to confirm his true level through this fight. Furthermore, he needed time to get a grasp on the power he had gained from his rapid growth.

For both of these to happen, Henya needed to be a worthy opponent. So Risir started to provoke her with a mischievous grin.

“Not bad. Ice magic, huh?”

“...What?”

“Oh? It wasn’t? You froze up like ice so I figured, you know...”

Risir had more talent at provocation than he thought, as Henya’s face instantly turned bright red.

“Oh, now it’s fire magic. Is that what they call hybrid coloring or whatnot?”

“You-you! You!!!”

“Go on, can’t you see I’m all ears? I’ve even stopped my attack.”

“How the heck did you do it?! Aspect shaping? It’s impossible!!! It-it’s gotta be the elixir, right? Isn’t it?! I can’t accept this!”

“Can’t accept it? Now that’s a huge pickle. It sounds like the only thing left is for little Henya to completely deny my wind magic. You know, with that prided assimilation of yours.”

Risir was excessively more talented at provocation than he thought.

Despite having lost all her fighting spirit, Henya glared at Risir with gritted teeth. Yet, for all her anger, she hesitated to act—his unnatural presence had completely shattered her sense of reality.

In the end, Henya pushed herself to the limit, gripping a book in her left hand. It was the ancient grimoire she had been studying since arriving at the mage tower.

If I use this...

But just as she focused her entire mind on the book—

“Henya, come to your senses!”

Her master’s stern reprimand broke her concentration.

“Are you trying to make everything I’ve taught you meaningless?”

“...!”

“Remember my teachings! The answer lies within them!”

Meltas and Ladros turned to Marina in surprise. She looked unbelievably stern for someone who always said, “My disciple is too good for me.” And she was usually so careful when dealing with her disciple.

Henya’s reaction was equally surprising. The girl respected her master, but more than that, she always stubbornly insisted on doing things her own way.

Normally, Henya would have insisted on proving her method was the right one, refusing to follow Marina’s advice.

“...”

But now, she listened.

Henya discarded the ancient grimoire she had been clutching, and as her master had advised, she recalled her teachings.

The wind arrow that had seemed overwhelmingly powerful began to look different.

It’s unstable.

Apparently, Risir’s claim of not knowing mana assimilation wasn’t a lie after all. In the shaping of his magic, she detected several flaws that shouldn’t be there.

Though Risir’s magic appeared flawless at first glance—perfect, even—a closer inspection revealed it was riddled with imperfections. So many, in fact, that it was surprising it held together at all.

To use an analogy, it was basically a building constructed without any professional knowledge.

Is that even possible?

Henya struggled to process it. This meant that Risir had reached the stage of aspect shaping on his own, without the aid of expert knowledge.

That’s impossible.

A chill ran down her spine as Henya forced herself to push the thought aside.

That’s not what I should be focusing on anyway.

Henya redirected her attention—from the irrationality of Risir’s magic to its imperfections.

“Finally.”

Risir flashed a wry smile as a mana barrier formed around Henya. His wind arrow surged toward the barrier, as if it had been waiting for this moment.

The arrow, shaped through aspect magic, had a natural advantage over Henya’s barrier, which had been created through assimilation. The arrow’s additional properties and the precision of the magic should have been on an entirely different level.

Normally, Risir’s attack would have succeeded, and Henya’s defense would have failed.

-Sshhhrrr.

The tip of the wind arrow accelerated, piercing into the barrier.

Henya focused her whole mind, feeling the barrier as if it were her own skin. She sensed the structure of Risir’s aspect magic—its imperfections.

The barrier responded to her will.

-Shwoosh!

In an instant, a gust of wind spread out in all directions. The wind arrow dissipated before it could fully penetrate the barrier.

Without hesitation, Henya aimed her hand at Risir. Multiple Mana Spikes formed and rained down on him in quick succession.

“What the—”

Henya couldn’t hide her surprise at Risir’s response. Instead of forming a barrier, he tried to dodge the spikes by accelerating through wind magic.

It was an extremely inefficient method, showing not just a lack of knowledge but a lack of experience.

Sure enough, Risir realized the problem while dodging the spikes and belatedly formed a mana barrier.

“Ugh!”

But his barrier was as fragile as his wind arrow. In the end, one last spike pierced Risir’s arm.

Thanks to the defensive magic in place for duels, there was no injury, but the impact was still fully felt.

He grimaced in pain, clutching his arm.

“Got him!”

“Well done.”

The master and disciple cheered simultaneously.

Henya inwardly reassured herself.

I know I can pull it off! It’s possible!

Henya had somewhat regained her usual composure.

But just as the crumbled fragments of her reality began to regain their original shape—

“So this is how it feels.”

Her ears caught Risir’s vague mutter, and another chill ran down her spine. That small, simple remark stirred up a wave of ominous possibilities in her mind.

-Whoosh!

Once again, wind gathered around Risir, taking form above his hand.

“You...”

Henya couldn’t hide her agitation. It wasn’t just one wind arrow, but multiple, and they weren’t arrows at all. They were spikes.

Risir had recreated her Mana Spikes using wind magic.

Henya became enraged, sensing an ulterior motive in his actions.

“Are you trying to compete with me now?!”

“I don’t mean to provoke you.”

“Then what do you mean?!”

Risir didn’t answer with words but with actions.

What happened earlier repeated itself. His aspect magic attempted to penetrate her barrier, while her assimilation magic tried to repel it. The only difference was that Risir’s unstable arrow was now in the form of spikes.

Nothing should have changed.

“...!”

And yet, Henya’s face twisted in shock.

Risir’s wind spikes weren’t mere imitations. They contained an understanding of the principles and intricacies within Mana Spikes. This was a clear reinterpretation of the magic.

“I learned something from you. Isn’t this the positive function of a duel?”

In fact, it was his wind arrow that merely mimicked the form of magic. What Henya didn’t know was that Risir’s wind arrow was an original spell he had created from pure imagination.

But she did know, with certainty, that Risir was acquiring magical knowledge with every passing moment.

The ominous possibility she had been trying to deny took shape in this moment.

“Don’t tell me you—”

Her mind flashed back to a conversation with Risir.

-One year. It only took me one year to get here. How about you?

-...A month?

Henya’s eyes trembled uncontrollably.

That tremor passed through the mana barrier...causing it to shatter along with the wind spikes.

“Ha...”

All that escaped her lips was a bitter laugh and a frustrated murmur.

“What the heck...”

The encouraging voice within her fell silent, as the arrogant genius mage had learned how to doubt herself.

After some time, Ladros raised his left hand to announce the conclusion.

“Duel over. The winner is—”

***Risir waited for Henya to collect herself before approaching her. She stared at him silently, then let out a hollow chuckle.

“Fine, you won. Congrats. So, are you satisfied now?”

Henya was unnecessarily gruff, recalling how she had treated Risir. She naturally expected him to mock her.

“...”

But he didn’t. Instead, Risir shook his head and extended his hand.

“Do you remember what I said?”

“...!”

Henya was startled.

“...Right. We agreed to give it our all, using any means necessary, so there would be no regrets later.”

She let out an awkward giggle.

“I’ll say it again, Risir. I admit my defeat.”

Then, just as she was about to take his outstretched hand—

“...Eh?”

She belatedly realized his hand was angled strangely, his palm clearly facing upward.

“Not that.”

“...Huh?”

“Didn’t I tell you? If I won, I’d ask for your entire fortune.”

Risir explained in a playful murmur, still holding out his hand.

“The goods, please.”

His gaze was fixed on the book Henya had discarded earlier.

“...”

The bewildered disciple subconsciously turned toward her master, her face tearful.

The master met her gaze with a benevolent smile.

***

▷Event 43: ‘The Master’s Failing’ has been deactivated

***