blueteamnovel Chapter 36
Chapter 36
It was nothing new, but Ihan hated magicians.
Why, you ask?
Isn’t it obvious? As a child, he was used as an “experiment subject” by a magician and endured it for no less than ten years.
Ten whole years. That’s 3,650 days, being experimented on every single day.
The pain he suffered then is something he’ll never forget, no matter how much time passes.
Every day, children were discarded after failed experiments. The experiments became more intense, resulting in scars, wounds, and unimaginable pain.
The endless extraction of blood, the tearing and burning of flesh—it was agony that no one could truly understand unless they’d experienced it.
That’s why it’s unforgettable.
...If he were to tell his story to a priest of the Light, they’d probably say:
“It was a trial sent by God. Thanks to that trial, you are who you are now. You should let go of those memories.”
To which Ihan would reply:
“─What a load of crap.”
If they went through exactly what he endured for ten years and still said that, he might have some respect for them. But who would willingly undergo ten years of torture?
So, no matter how meaningless it might seem to some, he would forever carry a grudge against magicians.
Of course, he knew he shouldn’t generalize all magicians. Not every one of them conducted human experiments. But still, he couldn’t help but wonder:
‘Why do all the magicians I’ve encountered happen to be lunatics?’
For three years as a knight, every mysterious case he investigated somehow involved a magician. He witnessed firsthand how others suffered, just as he had as a child, and sometimes even worse. It was then that he became certain:
‘Good magicians? Sure, they might exist.’
It’s just that most of the “good” ones are only good after they stop breathing.
That goes for Irene Windler, too. While he could admit she seemed like a decent person, the fact that she was a magician was enough for him to hold a grudge against her.
Perhaps, this was an obsessive hatred Ihan harbored. A compulsion that told him magicians were meant to be hated.
And right now, Ihan had just confirmed that his obsession wasn’t misplaced.
Look at this, for instance:
“You’ve mocked my words, you filthy swordsman. How dare you disregard my command! You lowly creature...!”
Only venomous words poured from Odwal’s mouth.
So Ihan replied:
“Did you come here to die, old magician?”
“!!!”
Ihan was more than willing to stoop to his level.
The atmosphere in the swordsmanship department’s training grounds was thick with silence.
It wasn’t just any silence; it was the calm before the storm. The kind of stillness that made it seem as if an explosion could go off at any moment.
Suddenly—
“Hm.”
Ihan casually pulled a hand axe from his coat.
“Shall we have a little more ‘conversation’?”
“...Why do you draw a weapon to have a conversation?”
“Why should I put up with a magician disrupting my precious class time? Sure, what a magician says is always nonsense, but I’ll listen. If it sounds like nonsense again, I’ll just throw this at you.”
“...You filthy swordsman.”
“What do you think will happen if this filthy swordsman hits you with an axe?”
“...!”
Ignoring Odwal’s fury, Ihan playfully waggled the hand axe.
It was as if he were saying he was ready to take on any challenge.
But this wasn’t a mere joke.
In reality, Ihan was in a terrible mood. He had warned Odwal very respectfully the day before, yet here he was, intruding into Ihan’s “territory.”
And the fact that he’d brought reinforcements...
‘What else could it mean, if not that he’s here to fight?’
A group of magicians had arrived, about 17 of them, clearly there to show their strength.
Ihan’s deep-seated hatred of magicians made him more than disgusted at the sight. He felt it was his duty to remind Odwal of life’s harsh realities, emanating an intense aura of seriousness.
“...You ignorant swordsman.”
Odwal, however, managed to suppress his anger. Although his gaze was still fierce, neither he nor his disciples drew their staffs. As far as knights go, it’s akin to not drawing their swords. He knew.
Fighting a knight at this range was suicide.
‘A magician keeping their cool? Well, he is a professor at the academy for a reason.’
Still, one could never be too careful. Magicians were like ticking time bombs, prone to sudden outbursts.
And just as expected—
“You don’t understand.”
“...This is just my personal opinion.”
“Of course.”
“Haha...”
That sounded exactly like something the old man would say.
Though there was some truth to it, Ihan couldn’t deny that Odwal had made a valid point.
‘Telekinesis is a magician’s strength, akin to physical stamina for knights.’
Just as consistent exercise builds strength, consistent training in telekinesis likely contributes to a magician’s power. Ihan had restricted this, which understandably irked the old magician. In a way, Irene was going against the magician’s teachings, and Ihan was the one who’d imposed that on her.
For someone who had once thrown a fit over a cadet coughing during the entrance ceremony, it was a wonder Odwal hadn’t caused trouble sooner.
“...Tch, he should have just said that from the start.”
It was a reasonable argument, and if he’d stated it clearly earlier, Ihan might not have been so hostile.
Still, Ihan felt no remorse.
‘Why should I feel bad for a magician?’
Ihan scoffed.
“I’m sorry, Instructor. This all happened because of me...”
“Chick number 2, this isn’t your fault.”
“But...”
“Let me ask you this. Have you ever neglected your magic training because you were attending my classes?”
“No! Absolutely not!”
She could swear that on her life.
[Right, I nag her every day. There’s never been a time Irene hasn’t trained.]
Thanks to the ghost girl’s constant nagging, Irene never neglected her magic training. Limiting telekinesis in daily life was also part of that.
“I only use it when I’m not training. Like when I don’t feel like getting out of bed to fetch a glass of water or when I’m doing my hair.”
“...That’s a bit enviable.”
“Hehe.”
She had a peculiar mix of diligence and laziness, diligently working to balance both.
Listening to her explanation, Ihan remarked:
“See? There’s no real issue here, old man. I don’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.”
Ihan gestured to the old magician, as if asking if he was satisfied. Odwal trembled with rage and retorted,
“You fool! That’s not the issue! Magic must be pure! Her talent must not be sullied!”
“...I don’t see why being healthier is a stain.”
“Health is irrelevant for magicians! With telekinesis—no, with ‘mana,’ we can live perfectly well. Instead of wasting time building physical stamina, it’s far more efficient to train mana...”
“You’re insane.”
What kind of logic was this?
It was like saying you don’t need to eat real food because nutritional supplements are enough.
Madman’s logic.
“Old man, once again, your logic...”
“You, stop calling me an old man! I’m only twenty-eight!!!”
“.........What?”
...Did he mishear?
Ihan blinked in confusion and looked at the cadets. He gave them a questioning look, wondering if they had heard the same bizarre claim.
They responded:
“...Twenty-eight? Kunta thinks he’s still not used to the common language. I think I heard something strange. That old guy looks older than our high priestess.”
“No, Kunta. You heard right.”
“What kind of sorcery...”
The cadets whispered, confirming he hadn’t misheard, and Ihan turned to stare at the old magician—no, the prematurely aged young magician—in disbelief.
‘...He’s two years younger than me?’
Maybe...
“You didn’t sell your soul to a demon, did you?”
“You little...!”
In the end, Odwal lunged at Ihan.
Creak!
And immediately crumpled.
Meanwhile, as Irene watched this... young-looking but unnervingly aged magician, she thought to herself:
[Irene, we need to follow the instructor’s diet plan and exercise a lot, alright?]
‘...Yeah, I was already planning on it.’
Sometimes, nothing motivates a person more than a cautionary example.