Mizuki’s condition could not tolerate any delay. She was immediately transferred to the private clinic of the Truth Court for urgent treatment. Upon arrival, she was already on the brink of death.
As soon as they were taken to the Truth Court, the children’s families were contacted—among them Verdi, who had been desperately searching for any trace of his children.
Earlier, when he heard about the abduction, he nearly lost his mind and almost killed Haist. Nevertheless, he forced himself to calm down and began the search.
He contacted the Tower’s sorcerers and informed them of the situation. The sorcerers did not hesitate for a moment and promptly dispatched a team of law enforcers to search for the children.
Haist, too, did not remain idle. Overwhelmed by guilt—Verdi had been his friend for over ten years and had also served as Mizuki’s mentor for four—Haist vowed to take full responsibility for his life if anything happened to the children. This was his way of atoning for his guilt.
Due to his exhaustion and near-critical injuries, Arai remained unconscious for eight days before finally opening his eyes.
Arai’s Perspective
When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying on a soft, warm bed.
The first thing I noticed was a strange ceiling. I tried to move, but a searing pain shot through every part of my body—as if I had fallen from the top of a mountain—especially in my nose and left arm.
Then, the memories hit me: I had been kidnapped by a mad warlock…Mizuki! What happened to Mizuki? She must have managed to escape, hadn’t she?
“Calm down,”
I whispered, taking a deep, steadying breath.
I then surveyed the room: it was illuminated by a blue crystal, with metallic walls and sky-blue, semi-transparent curtains.
'Is this a hospital?'
I wondered. The most likely explanation was that I was inside the Wizard’s Tower—no such room existed in our family’s mansion, and I doubted such extravagance was found elsewhere in the kingdom.
They were even using a magical crystal as a lamp! Clearly, Mizuki must have alerted someone, and I was rescued just in time.
I began to recall what had happened with the warlock.
After several minutes of reflection, I came to a startling realization: he was weak. No—he was far weak for someone of the four rank!
Typically, a person of that rank could kill a hundred—or even three hundred—of me with a single gust of air, yet he struggled repeatedly against me; I nearly killed him twice!
I do not know the true strength of four rank sorcerers, but I do know they are rare and immensely powerful. Look at Haist, for instance—he could have killed both Mizuki and me with a wooden sword, with no need for skills or spells, just one swing. And yet, despite that, Mizuki, the purple-haired boy, and I almost managed to kill that warlock several times…he was practically a paper tiger.
Unfortunately, I am weak.
Lacking combat experience and proper skills, I was unable to finish him off. I now see that I had been fumbling from the start, wasting precious time when my life—and Mizuki’s—was on the line. Mizuki, who has no mana, nearly managed to kill him. Whether it was due to his weakness or a hidden talent she possesses, the truth remains: I am weak.
Looking back, I realize I had several opportunities to kill the warlock. It only dawned on me later that integrating
At this rate—if I cannot even protect myself—how can I hope to safeguard Mizuki or fulfill my promise? I never imagined that weakness could hurt this much. I have spent most of my life in research and laboratories; suddenly demanding that I fight is an unsettling notion, albeit a necessary excuse to console myself.
Furthermore, isn’t even a combat ability. I am 100% confident I could use it to its fullest in a controlled environment like a lab. And then there’s that prince—why would he want to kill me? Tsk, tsk—his thinking is so narrow-minded! Did he decide to kill me merely because I threatened to join Lilith’s faction? I swear, I will make him pay.
Sigh… I cleared my thoughts and started thinking about something else.
I pulled out the golden book of searing power—the Sun—and resolved to stop complaining and put in more effort from now on.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
I felt as if I had uttered this clichéd line before.
'I just hope it doesn’t let me down…'
I had previously reached the one rank in a manner I neither understood nor cared to. I opened the grimoire and glanced at the first page. In the introduction, a yellow circle was deeply engraved in the center—large enough to cover the entire page from its midpoint. Inside the circle, intersecting lines formed a basic grid.
'Is this the Core Circle?'
I recalled what Verdi had told me: if the mana core is the foundation for essence wizards and for those bearing magical marks, then the Core Circle is the very foundation of a grimoire!
I did not understand this magical circle, but aside from it, where were my spells? I tried turning to the other pages, but they were nothing but blank sheets. For a moment, fear gripped me—could it be that I hadn’t acquired any spells? How disappointing!
Determined, I flipped back to the Core Circle page and randomly pressed the lines. Fortunately, the circle glowed, and a three-dimensional image of two things materialized before me.
'What a strange method…'
I mused. Thinking outside the box sometimes pays off.
The first image was of a beam resembling an orange laser.
This was the first spell—Sunbeam.
I instinctively knew how to activate Sunbeam, as if it were innate. This one level spell condenses the sun’s power into a straight line and unleashes it, producing a burning force akin to a laser. Simple yet potent, it had plenty of room to grow. If I master it, I can tweak it however I wish—and that is exactly my plan.
Perhaps one day, I will even evolve it into a solar “Kamehameha."!
Only a true man of culture would do that.
The second spell was called—Magma Palm.
With this spell, I could concentrate the sun’s power in my hand and burn everything I touched to ash.
Bah! What is wrong with this spell? I am a sorcerer, not an enhancer!
Just two spells? I suppose I will train with them later. I think I’ll work on the fire element after the sun, and if possible, perhaps even use space as my primary element—though that seems unlikely, as I do not know anyone with such an affinity.
I heard a noise from the doorknob and quickly closed the grimoire, dismissing it. A gut feeling told me I couldn’t show the Core Circle to anyone—it was a secret meant for sorcerers alone.
“Oh? You’re awake already,” a woman said as she entered. She wore a white robe, had short brown hair, and was dressed in a doctor’s coat with small glasses.
“Excuse me, but what happened to my sister? Is she alright?” I asked anxiously, trying to get out of bed.
“Don’t move—your injuries are severe!” the doctor suddenly yelled in a loud voice that startled me.
My body tensed in fear.
What was with her sudden yell? I looked at her in panic.
Her face flushed, and in a softer tone she said, “I’m sorry; I mean, your injuries are quite severe, and we haven’t yet begun using magic to heal you, so…”
How strange—yelling over something like that? You won’t win anyone’s affection that way, I thought.
“Anyway, your sister is…” She flipped through the documents in her hands, adjusted her glasses slightly, and continued, “Mizuki Rolan, right? Her injuries are far worse than yours! There are fractures in both her arms, her legs are broken, and she’s riddled with splinters from branches.”
“She has three broken ribs, and… hmm?” The doctor paused, pursing her lips, and said with furrowed brows, “She’s been unconscious for a week, and her body won’t accept mana healing! It rejects all spells and potions. We can only treat her manually through surgery, but don’t worry—our medical techniques are highly advanced, and she’s in capable hands.”
A week? Her body rejecting mana? I leaped from the bed in disbelief. Ignoring the pain in my body, I snatched the report from her hands and read:
[Mizuki Rolan – 8 years old]
[Condition: Red – Extremely Critical]
[Damage: Torn brachial plexus in both arms, fractures in both arms, three punctures in the left lung, three broken left ribs, shattered left leg bones, and severe lacerations in the right leg – severe complications.]**
[Note: The patient has been unconscious for seven days. Surgery is prohibited until she awakens. The patient’s body rejects mana for healing—further scans are prohibited, as they violate patient privacy.]
"Boom!"
I was thrown back onto the bed.
“Didn’t I tell you not to move?!” she shouted.
“This is impossible…” My heart sank as I read the report. These injuries were not present when I made her escape! What happened? Did the sorcerer have accomplices? Or did someone else interfere? What happened?! These injuries could have killed her several times over!
And what about the note stating she cannot be healed with mana? Why? Doesn’t that mean her treatment is impossible? Even if the medical techniques in this world are advanced, they rely on mana for healing. And what happens to someone who can’t be healed with mana? Nothing—they die from their injuries.
My face went pale at the thought. Does this mean Mizuki will remain like this forever because I sent her out? Was it my foolish sacrifice—staying behind and sending her away, thinking I was saving her—that caused this? Proud Mizuki will never wield a sword again…With one reckless decision, I ruined my older sister’s future. I deprived her of her arms with a single, stupid choice.
“I… I…” A flood of emotions rose in my chest.
“It drips…”
Are these tears? Yes, these are my tears. I suppose I need to vent and cry, even though I feel I don’t deserve it. Still, I refuse to cry in front of a female doctor.
Thinking of it, I don't know if it is this world's normal sense or what, but isn't she supposed to hide this information from me until I heal? What a cruel doctor!
“Boy, you don’t need to worry too much! We are specialists in healing—your sister is in safe hands.”
I suppressed my tears and the urge to laugh at the absurdity of my expression, then asked, “Excuse me, Miss…?”
“Miss Mishin Lamka,” she replied.
“Miss Mishin, are you treating me like a crazy?” I inquired.
“Her bone condition is terrible—it’s not just a simple break. Her right arm is completely shattered, and her left is in a pitiful state.” My anger and frustration surged as I recalled the report’s details.
“Look—aren’t these the brachial plexus nerves? Even if you managed to reconstruct her arm, what then? The nerves are severed! Can you repair nerves? Without them, her arm would be practically useless!” I felt an overwhelming urge to dissect someone—perhaps that would ease my tension. I consider that one way to vent my frustration.
I continued yelling for several minutes until I gradually calmed down.
The color drained from Miss Mishin’s face, and she looked at me as if I were a monster—her expression one of shock and pallor.
I thought, “I guess I got a bit carried away…” Still, Mizuki’s injuries were that severe
If we were on Earth, she would have died within days.
I swear I’ll make Prince Greed pay his due—by ensuring he lives a life worse than death.